#if i read all day i could be just as fast | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uniquecutie-puffs · 2 days ago

Text

Heartstrings & Hellfire: Chapter 03

The Next Day…

The streets of Myeong-dong, famous for shopping, fashion, and street food, were unusually crowded. Under the bright sun, a group of four friends strolled through the crowd in casual streetwear, though for them, these outfits were more of a disguise. After all, they were well-known K-pop artists.

Rumi wore a hoodie layered with a blazer and sweatpants, opting for comfort and concealment. Miro went with a classic hat-and-glasses combo, a white sleeveless shirt, and denim pants. Zane sported a laid-back streetwear style that blended perfectly with others their age.

(Y/n), however, stuck to her signature white aesthetic: a cute lolita-style white dress adorned with a black bow at the collar, her hair in low twin pigtails tied with white scrunchies, and a classic white face mask covering half her face.

“He’s got this special tonic. Apparently, it can heal anything from sore throats to relationship problems,” Zane said excitedly, loudly enough that Rumi immediately hushed him.

“Shh! Quiet, Zane.”

“Why are there so many people today?” Miro asked, scanning the overly packed streets.

“Oh, it’s down that alleyway,” Zane pointed to his phone and began walking ahead. Rumi, (Y/n), and Miro quietly followed him down a side street.

What they didn’t notice was the buzz among the crowd, all holding flyers advertising a free noon concert.

“Who are the Saja Boys?”

The group finally stopped in front of a modest building with a neon sign that read ‘Han’s Clinic.’ Miro looked unimpressed.

“Yep. About as legit as I expected,” he remarked sarcastically.

“Earthy and herby. Smells legit to me,” Rumi said with gentle optimism, not wanting to hurt Zane’s feelings. He appreciated the effort.

“Yay! That’s the spirit!” Zane cheered, hugging Rumi before pulling him into the clinic. What none of them noticed was that Rumi had unconsciously grabbed (Y/n)’s wrist and pulled her in with him.

“Hurry before someone sees us,” Miro urged, quickly slipping inside behind them.

Inside Dr. Han’s office, books, awards, and certificates filled the space. Rumi sat in the middle chair while Miro, Zane, and (Y/n), now maskless, sat on either side. Zane, clearly the most excited, flashed two thumbs up at Rumi, who returned the gesture with a small smile.

While the boys distracted themselves, (Y/n) observed the photos on the wall. Most were obviously photoshopped, but one stood out: four boys hugging each other. She tilted her head in curiosity, which all three boys noticed at the same time and unanimously thought: Cute. Before she could think more, the office door opened.

“Rumi-nim,” Dr. Han greeted, recognizing all members of Huntrix and Korea’s beloved Angel. Everyone stood and bowed respectfully.

“No need. Sit, sit,” the doctor chuckled, motioning them back into their seats.

“You need no introduction. So… a problem with your voice?” he asked, pausing in front of Rumi for a quick assessment.

“Yes. We need one of your awesome tonics, something that works fast,” Zane said eagerly.

“Okay, let me see.” The doctor adjusted his glasses and examined Rumi.

“Ahhh,” Rumi complied, opening his mouth.

“Uh-uh-uh. To heal the part, we must understand the whole,” the doctor corrected, gesturing to Rumi entirely. He then inhaled deeply, opened his eyes dramatically, and stared at Rumi wide-eyed, startling (Y/n).

“Uh…” Rumi leaned back slightly, unnerved but willing to try anything for a cure.

“I see… no, actually, I don’t. Very strange. You have many walls up.”

“Whoa! He’s good, right?” Zane whispered to Miro and (Y/n) in awe.

“So many walls.”

“Walls? I don’t have walls,” Rumi scoffed, dismissing the idea.

“Uh, yeah you do. He’s kinda right,” Miro admitted, lowering the magazine he was reading. (Y/n) nodded beside him.

“I’m just trying to stay focused,” Rumi defended.

“Focus is good, but focusing on one part causes you to neglect the others. It makes you… separated. Isolated,” the doctor explained.

“Ooh! Emotionally closed off?” Zane blurted out.

“Yes! Yes!” the doctor confirmed.

“He’s also a workaholic. Doesn’t know how to relax,” Miro added.

“I do know how to relax!”

“He bottles up his feelings,” (Y/n) added softly.

“(Y/n)! You’re supposed to be on my side,” Rumi whined.

“I bet he refuses to go to the bathhouse with you,” the doctor guessed.

“Oh my gosh, yes! How did you—”

“We’ve been trying forever,” Zane and Miro said in unison, cracking up.

“How is this helpful?” Rumi grumbled.

“It’s helping me a lot,” Miro smirked.

“Whoa, how’d you know all that just by looking at him?” Zane asked the doctor. But then the doctor turned his eyes to Zane.

“Hm. I see…”

“Wait, why are you looking at me?”

“Eager to please. Maybe a bit too eager.”

“What? Ahahaha! I'm not like that. You'd tell me if I was like that, right?” Zane turned to the others for reassurance.

“Um…” Miro and Rumi exchanged glances.

“It’s okay, Zane. It’s not eagerness, it’s concern. That’s what makes you, you. And I love that about you,” (Y/n) said sweetly, patting his hand. Zane turned red.

Next, the doctor tried to analyze Miro, but the moment their eyes locked, a silent battle began. Miro grunted. The doctor whimpered. Miro smirked in triumph.

“Yeah. That’s right.”

Finally, the doctor turned to (Y/n), who smiled gently at him.

“I see… nothing, yet everything. Kindness, innocence, faith in goodness. You really are an angel,” he said in awe. (Y/n) smiled, tilting her head.

“But how does this help my voice?” Rumi asked again, frustrated.

“To heal the part, we must understand the whole,” the doctor reiterated, this time gesturing to the whole group.

“Okay, but we came for the tonics.”

“Just give us the voice juice,” Zane begged.

“Hm… I know just the tonic you need,” the doctor relented, knowing they weren’t ready to understand his full message. But (Y/n) was still thinking about it, feeling like she was missing something important.

As the two boys waited outside the clinic, Rumi and (Y/n) sat together in the waiting area. Her head rested gently on his shoulder. Rumi glanced down at her, and a giddy warmth filled his chest. He loved the way she smelled, the gentle weight of her against him. But not wanting to overstep boundaries, he quickly looked forward, redirecting his thoughts—only to spot something that made him pause.

“Is that us? And (Y/n)?” he muttered.

Two framed photos were hanging on the wall. One was a promotional picture of Huntrix, each member holding a canned drink, except the doctor’s own photo was poorly glued beside them. The second frame featured (Y/n)’s perfume ad, but again, the doctor had inserted himself into the photo, posed in such a way that the perfume was being sprayed on him. Rumi felt creeped out and hoped (Y/n) wouldn’t notice.

“Ugh. Zane…” Rumi muttered under his breath, exasperated.

“Your tonics are ready!” the doctor suddenly announced, holding up a box with the clinic's logo and intricate design.

Both Rumi and (Y/n) stood, and Rumi took the box to carry it himself. They thanked the doctor and the staff before exiting the building, where Miro and Zane were waiting outside.

“We got the tonics! We got the tonics!” The two boys chanted as Rumi opened the door, letting (Y/n) exit first before following.

As they began walking toward the main street, (Y/n) suddenly stopped and started rummaging through her purse.

“Something wrong, (Y/n)? Looking for something?” Miro asked, cool and composed.

“Yeah… I think I left my face mask inside the clinic,” she replied, still searching.

“Want me to go get it?” Rumi offered, already stepping back.

“No need, I’ll go get it myself. Just wait here for me, okie?” she said cutely before heading back inside. All three boys sighed dreamily at her adorableness.

Back in the alley...

“Yay! Once your voice is fixed, we can get back to the important stuff, like the fans!” Zane said excitedly. But just then, the boys heard approaching footsteps and saw shadows moving toward the alleyway. “Totally... nice,”

“Fans!” Miro exclaimed, panicking with Zane.

“We can’t let them see us!” Zane and Miro quickly hid behind Rumi and yanked his hoodie up. Rumi, caught off guard, used the box to hide half his face. The three of them silently thanked the heavens that (Y/n) was still inside.

“Hurry!”

“Be cool. Look normal.”

~ “Oh yeah!” ~

The sunlight poured into the alley as four unfamiliar yet stunning boys walked confidently, almost in slow motion.

~ “Come on.” ~

“Hmm?” The three Huntrix boys stared, captivated by the approaching group. It felt… hypnotic.

~ “Take your time.” ~

Miro and Zane were clearly in awe, their jaws slack. Rumi looked at them with disbelief.

~ “Na-na-na-na, na-na-na-na.” ~

All four boys flipped their hair in perfect sync, enhancing their flawless appearances.

~ “So tonight…” ~

One of them, wearing a tight Hawaiian shirt stretched dramatically. The shirt grew tighter… and then—

Pop!

The buttons burst open one by one until the shirt flowed open, exposing perfect abs.

~ “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…” ~

Zane and Miro stared, stunned. Popcorn inexplicably began streaming from their eyes. Zane tried to catch it with his bucket hat, while Miro happily munched.

“So hot…” Zane whispered.

“Ugh, you guys are disgusting,” Rumi grumbled, watching them drool over the stranger’s abs. But then his attention shifted to a figure behind the four. A black-haired male.

Ethereal.

Otherworldly.

Rumi’s breath caught.

The mysterious boy flipped his hair, causing a sudden gust of wind that blew Rumi’s hoodie back and revealed his purple hair. Just as Rumi was hypnotized, the male brushed against him, knocking the box from his arms. The tonics scattered across the floor as Rumi fell in a very ungraceful heap.

The tall boy extended a hand to help him up but then brushed his own shoulder, implying Rumi had dirtied him by touching him.

“Watch yourself,” the boy said coldly.

“Huh?” Rumi blinked. Then he gasped. “Did he just insult me?!”

Before Huntrix could say anything else, the five mysterious boys bumped into someone.

“Oof! Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” (Y/n) said kindly, having just exited the clinic.

But for the five boys, time slowed. To them, she sparkled. Her lashes fluttered. Her voice echoed like a melody.

“Rumi!” she called sweetly.

Minutes earlier...

After stepping out with Rumi, (Y/n) had realized her face mask was missing. She stopped to search her purse.

“Is there something wrong, (Y/n)? Looking for something?” Miro asked again.

“Yeah, I think I left my face mask inside the clinic.”

“Want me to get it?” Rumi offered.

“No need, I’ll go get it myself. Just wait here, okie?”

Inside, (Y/n) spotted the doctor still at the front desk.

“Yes, (Y/n)-nim? Is there something else you need?” he asked.

“Uh, yes. I think I left my face mask here. Also... do you have any medicine for abdominal pain?”

“Hmm… as I said before, to heal the part—”

“We must understand the whole,” she cut in gently. “Yes, I’m still figuring that out. But right now, I just need the medicine, please.”

He nodded. “I have just the thing.” Moments later, a staff member returned with both her mask and medicine.

(Y/n) paid, bowed respectfully, and stepped out, only to walk into the chest of one of the mystery boys, who caught her gracefully.

“Oof! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” she said, looking up at the handsome stranger and the four others behind him. She noticed the ab-boy’s shirt was completely open and ruined.

(Y/n) reached into her purse and pulled out a small sewing kit. “Here, you might need this,” she said sweetly, offering it to him.

For the first time, the shirtless boy blushed. But (Y/n)’s attention quickly moved past them.

“Rumi?” she called in concern, seeing him on the ground while Miro and Zane helped him up. She brushed past the boys and rushed to Rumi’s side. The five strangers looked after her in stunned silence.

(Y/n) knelt beside Rumi, checking him for injuries before helping gather the scattered tonics.

“Watch my… Watch yourself!” Rumi snapped toward the retreating boys. “Ugh! Look at this mess!”

“They’re not even that cute. What were we thinking?” Miro muttered.

“They’re so blah!” Rumi added grumpily.

Zane gagged. “I feel sick for even admiring those abs…”

“No, they’re—” Miro began, but couldn’t even finish the sentence.

“Come on, guys. Be nice,” (Y/n) giggled as she helped repack the box.

“But (Y/n), they’re…” All three boys dramatically retched.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Zane said dramatically.

Suddenly, music began blaring from the main street.

“Wait… What’s that?” Rumi asked.

They peeked toward the street, where pink smoke was rising and a crowd was gathering. Zane and Miro quickly fixed their outfits. Zane tugged too hard on Rumi’s hoodie, accidentally choking him.

“Oof, sorry!” Zane gasped.

Rumi stood straight, inhaled deeply, then exhaled before walking with the boys and (Y/n), heading toward the pink smoke as the beat of the music grew louder.

~”Hey, hey!”~

A crowd was beginning to gather around a sudden street performance.

~”Hey, hey! Don’t want you, need you. Yeah, I need you to fill me up. 마시고 마셔 봐도 (masigo masyeo bwado), 성에 차지 않아 (seong-e chaji ana).”~

“It’s those stupid jerks again,” Rumi muttered to Miro and Zane, irritation laced in his voice. Meanwhile, (Y/n) watched the performance, noticing that the five mysterious boys were almost looking directly at her. The dark-haired male even winked in her direction, though the boys beside her were too distracted by their anger to notice.

An ajumma squeezed between Miro and Rumi to get closer to the handsome performers, only to be blown back by a dramatic body roll from the dark-haired boy that created an absurd gust of wind, sending her flying back into her group.

~”Got a feeling that, oh, yeah (yeah). You could be everything that. That I need (need), taste so sweet (sweet).”~

“They’re a boy band?” Rumi asked in disbelief and slight horror—another potential rival group.

~”Every sip makes me want more, yeah. Lookin like snacks 'cause you got it like that (woo). Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah. 너의 모든 걸 난 원해, 원해, 원해 (neoui modeun geol nan wonhae, wonhae, wonhae).”~

On the giant screen behind the performance, a close-up of the dark-haired male’s Adam’s apple appeared as he drank one of Rumi’s tonic pouches. A wave of delighted screams erupted from the ajummas.

~”너 말곤 모두 뻔해, 뻔해, 뻔해 (neo malgon modu ppeonhae, ppeonhae, ppeonhae).”~

“Did he? One, two, three, four, five, six, HE STOLE ONE OF MY POUCHES!” Rumi gasped.

Zane and Miro scowled while (Y/n), despite everything, found herself bobbing along to the music. “You have to admit... it’s kind of catchy.

~”When you're in my arms, I hold you so tight (so tight). Can't let go, no, no, not tonight. 지금 당장 날 봐 시간 없잖아 (jigeum dangjang nal bwa sigan eopjana). 넌 내꺼야 이미 알고 있잖아 (neon naekkeoya imi algo itjana).”~

~”'Cause I need you to need me. I'm empty, you feed me, so refreshing. My little soda pop! You're all I can think of, Every drop I drink up. You're my soda pop. My little soda pop.”~

Zane’s shoulders started to sway to the beat. Rumi shot him a look. Zane froze... then subtly resumed. Rumi found himself doing the same. “It is... annoyingly catchy,” he admitted through gritted teeth.

~”Cool me down, you're so hot. Pour me up, I won't stop. You're my soda pop. My little soda pop.”~

“It’s infectious,” Miro added, now also moving slightly to the rhythm.

~”Ho-hoo-hoo. Ho-hoo-hoo. Ho-hoo-hoo.”~

(Y/n) blinked as two of the boys, specifically the pink haired male and the male in the pink sweater, blew kisses into the crowd, literal hearts flying into the audience. The special effects were so real they almost seemed dangerously real.

Miro, with excellent reflexes, caught one heart before it could hit (Y/n) in the face.

“They can make hearts out of thin air?” he muttered, bewildered. Crushing the heart in his fists.

Another heart slammed into Zane’s face. (Y/n) immediately helped him up, checking if he was bruised.

Suddenly, her breath hitched. She caught flashes, demonic eyes and glowing patterns briefly flickering over the boys’ bodies. She looked at the others. The same stunned realization was written across their faces.

“They’re demons!”

“Magicians!” Zane blurted.

“Demons. Obviously demons,” he quickly corrected himself.

~”My little soda pop. Uh, make me wanna flip the top. 한 모금에 (han mogeume), you hit the spot. Every little drip and drop, fizz and pop, ah. 소름 돋아 soreum doda it's gettin' hot.”~

“Dang, they’re good,” Zane grudgingly admitted as one of them rapped with smooth precision.

“Incredible... but a demon boy band? Why?” Rumi questioned.

“I don’t care. A demon’s a demon. We kill them,” Miro said, stepping forward with intention.

Rumi and (Y/n) both blocked his path. “No, it’s too public.”

“What if they hurt someone?” Miro asked, clearly torn.

“They’re not hurting anyone,” Zane pointed out. “They helped that girl at the corn dog stand, gave those stressed kids gifts. Not a single soul sucked.”

~”난 절대 놓칠 수 없어 (nan jeoldae nochil su eopseo). 널 원해 꼭 (neol wonhae kkok)”~

“In fact, they almost seem nice?” Zane pondered aloud.

“Demons are never nice!” Rumi and Miro snapped in unison.

But then all three boys simultaneously stomped on the corn dog the girl had been holding. “Don’t eat that!” Rumi warned.

“Ah, nooo!”

(Y/n) quickly offered the girl a replacement corn dog with mustard. “Here, this is much tastier. I’m so sorry about my friends.”

“Angel?” the girl whispered, awe-struck.

Meanwhile, the boys ripped the kids’ gifted items apart.

(Y/n) sighed, mortified. “Here. I know it’s not the same, but I hope these help.” She pulled out handmade cookies from her purse, giving them to each child.

“Thank you, Ms. Angel!” The kids chorused with bows before walking away.

~”Come and fill me up. Just can't get enough, Oh. You're all I can think of, Every drop I drink up. You're my soda pop. My little soda pop (yeah, yeah).”~

“They’re going after the fans. We’ve gotta stop this now,” Rumi growled, determined.

“Rumi, wait!” (Y/n) shouted, hurrying after him.

~”Cool me down, you're so hot. Pour me up, I won't stop (oh, oh). You're my soda pop. My little soda pop.”~

Each Saja Boy posed for the crowd, feeding their charm. But one by one, their eyes flicked to the girl in white.

Captivated.

Entranced.

She stood out like a dream in the chaos.

~”Ho-hoo-hoo. Ho-hoo-hoo. You're my soda pop. Gotta drink every drop”~

The performance ended. The boys blew kisses and waved. Rumi stood fuming beneath them. The dark-haired male dusted his shoulder again, mocking him.

“That’s it for now! See you tonight on everyone’s favorite variety show. The Saja Boys love you!” the lead announced.

~“My little soda pop.”~

Beside Rumi, (Y/n) scanned the five of them. Each one sends both flying kisses and winks towards her.

All three Huntrix boys witnessed it and snapped. The boys vanished into pink smoke as the crowd screamed. Behind them, a large screen flashed the title of the show: “Play Games With Us.”

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. She was scheduled to be on that show tonight.

“That was incredible.” “I like that group!” The crowd buzzed with excitement over the new boy band, causing Rumi to growl in irritation.

“To be fair... that’s also something a magician would do,” Zane muttered.

“Oh, those aren’t magicians,” Rumi snapped. “Those are demons. And we’re gonna kill them. Let’s get battle-ready.”

The group turned back toward the tower, but (Y/n) paused, glancing at her phone, a moment that didn’t go unnoticed.

“(Y/n)? Aren’t you coming back home with us?” Miro asked.

“Uhm, actually, I have a scheduled appearance I need to attend,” she replied, keeping her tone calm.

“How will you get there? Do you want us to drop you off or something?” Zane offered, always concerned for her safety.

“No need,” she smiled. “Bobby’s sending a car to my location. You guys go ahead. Be safe, alright?”

“Okay,” Rumi said with a sigh, still concerned. “Just, text us when you arrive, alright?”

“I will. Happy hunting.” She waved as the car pulled up, and the boys watched her drive away before heading back home to prepare for battle.

#saja boys x reader #kpdh x reader #kpop demon hunters #kpop demon hunters x reader #mira x reader #abby x reader #baby x reader #jinu x reader #male huntrix x reader #mystery x reader #male rumi x reader #rumi kpdh #Male Mira x reader #male zoey x reader #zoey kpdh #Spotify

231 notes · View notes

citrustan · 2 days ago

Text

killah (jjk) [5]

pairing: managing partner lawyer!jungkook x spoiled brat!reader x senior partner! redacted

genre: strangers/lowkey one sided enemies to ?? idk bec you irk him, angst, smut, like slight fluff, infidelity (jungkook has a girlfriend)

warnings: please read the other parts before this one! soooo in this chapter, you'll see a little emotional and the slightest bit more of physical cheating, descriptions of nudity, accidental flashing, umm foot 😵 and no i'm not explaining myself, hand holding 😋 good luck 👍 extra note: this is LOng btw. i will edit it soon, i think it needs a little refining but not too much! but yes it'll be done a bit later because im scared to read through this again it's edited! !!ATTENTION!! even though this story features another member as a main character, this is still a jungkook x reader fic.

Nobody should be waking up this early on a Saturday. But you had a very important and hopefully fruitful day ahead.

Kim Namjoon had promised to take you to the gym. Unfortunately, he didn’t plan for a separate event, instead, he just wrote you into his regular schedule. You preferred that though. That was the only way you’d get to see Jeon Jungkook in action.

You had been pretty passive about courting him lately. Joining Logan’s team was a lot more demanding than you had imagined. Nobody would let you slack off.

Initially, they were quite understanding about your incompetence but once it began actively affecting their work, they weren’t shy to let you know it.

Logan wouldn’t defend you either. So you had to suck it up and win them over through hard work.

All the hard work was starting to pay off too.

Logan had put you on a personal payroll. The amount wasn’t as much as the other employees earned (which was alright with you since you had no idea how big of a difference there was between yours and their pay cheques.)

You were being taught how to use Excel and some calendar app to set meetings up for people.

You also learnt that these were public and everyone could see everyone's calendars.

Apologies to the sixty people who saw the bikini laser and dick appointments on yours.

Speaking of dick appointments; none of yours had been successful with Namjoon.

It’s like the universe was keeping you apart.

There were three separate occasions where you were this close to finally getting laid. But the world was working against you, trying to enforce abstinence.

The first time was the day you met Namjoon, your first day at work. Had Jungkook not walked in, you’d probably have fucked right there.

The second time was a lot more humiliating. You were at his apartment and it was the first time you had seen each other completely nude. You were certain you were about to have the best sex of your life.

The two of you were fully naked, making out on his expensive couch. His cock was rubbing and prodding against your wet and puffy lips. Everything was just right.

And then his parents came in.

It happened too fast for you to react in time.

So, yeah. His parents had seen… everything.

Instead of staying on top of you (because it kept the two of you covered,) the idiot hopped off of you, almost hitting his head on his coffee table, putting both himself and you on display for his parents.

This pattern could not keep going.

First Jeon Jungkook, now Mr. and Mrs. Kim.

And then it happened once again with Jungkook.

Except, this time, he wasn’t physically present to break you up but he kept blowing Namjoon’s phone up.

You don’t know what it was about but since Namjoon made you leave in a haste, you assumed it was work.

After that, you had given up.

Namjoon probably got his relief elsewhere because he didn’t seem half as frustrated as you, but it was whatever.

Anywayyyy....

Today though, you HAD to make a move on Jeon Jungkook. This is what the universe had been trying to do!

Probably.

But you NEEDED that man. He could fix you.

You couldn’t find his Instagram and had to stalk through Namjoon’s instead for more intel on him. You don’t remember the last time you were this invested in something, or someone.

A loud bell finally forces you completely awake.

You groan, burying your face in your silk pillowcase, as it kept ringing incessantly.

“I swear to God…” You threw your blanket off and padded barefoot across your carpeted room, then down the stairs to the main door.

Where the hell was Logan?

When you opened the door, something bright , loud and flashy jumped at you making you wince--- “Mornin’, Pumpkin!”

Fucking Kim Seokjin.

It was followed by a ‘Hello, my kitty.’ from your mother who breezes past you into your apartment.

But her lackey, sorry, husband waits for an invitation that you don’t verbalise.

Instead, you complain, “Stop calling me that, Seokjin.”

Seokjin was only a decade older than you and was always trying to parent you and Logan. It was... New. Logan entertained it but you're fine without a father figure.

All you needed was Jeon Jungkook. He could be your daddy. :D

“Come into the kitchen, dear.” You don’t know if your mother’s talking to you or Jin. You let him in anyway.

As expected, breakfast was already prepared and displayed on the island: buffet style.

Ryujin, your private chef, had already left.

Logan emerged from the den, instantly latching on to your mother.

You wondered if her day usually began this early or if it was just today. It’s like 6 A.M. (It was 8.)

Seokjin grabbed you a plate and served you half a grapefruit and a large bowl of tofu pudding while you waited at the table.

You were still a tad delirious.

Your hair was a tangled mess that you’d need help combing out.

The three adults joined you at the breakfast table a few minutes later.

Logan presented you with your iPad to check your schedule, this time it was hidden from his employees. But of course, you played Candy Crush instead.

Your brother made small talk about work and about how well you’re adjusting. Something about Seokjin’s new venture capitalist phase was discussed.

Then your mother turned her attention towards her favourite daughter.

You ignore her gaze and continue shoving chocolate pudding into your mouth.

“Are you seeing anyone new lately?” She asked hopefully.

You took extra long to respond, still chewing on the grapefruit-pudding combo. So, Logan answers for you--- “Kim Namjoon.”

At that, your mother’s eyes lit up, “Ahh, him. I have known his father for a while. Such a polite kid.” She then adds, “Very eligible.”

Eligible = marriage material.

But you knew damn well he wasn't thr type to even think about marriage.

Unbothered, you lean back. “He’s OK. Not seeing him.”

You stretched your arms and legs. “I’m interested in someone else though.”

That made your mother pause mid-bite, “Oh?”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Your mother blinked, now intrigued. She definitely knew that name.

“Namjoon’s… boss?” She tries to find the right word.

“Mhm.”

Wasn’t he with someone already? Your mother makes a strange face but keeps her thoughts to herself. She has had enough of your bullshit. Ignorance is bliss.

At least you’re aiming high.

The topic's forgotten just as fast as it was brought up.

Seokjin takes over, enthusiastically talking about some game show he was going to go on.

You still didn't know what exactly it was that he did. Not that you cared either.

A few minutes later, you excuse yourself from the table.

You hadn’t realised it was already half past 8.

Namjoon would be here in an hour. There wasn’t enough time to get a hairwash in but you’re going to risk it anyway.

You ask for Seokjin’s help with your hair and he ditches his breakfast to follow you upstairs.

He really does try very hard to connect with you and Logan. You pity him.

Only fifty minutes later, Namjoon texts you just as you finish tying the last strap on your wrap top.

At the lobby! Is visitor parking free?

It wasn't, but you don't reply because you'd have been downstairs soon anyway.

You had washed your hair, showered, dried your hair and lotioned up in record time.

You swipe some more gloss on, adjust your cami and mini ruffle skirt, and kiss your mirror.

You weren’t sure if you’d need a proper gym bag. You could just take Logan’s but it’s ugly.

A towel and your Stanley was all you were carrying anyway. Apart from your phone and cards, of course. Namjoon could store those for you.

By the time you make it to the lobby, your insides began to vibrate in excitement.

You briefly wonder if Jungkook would be there as well.

You move through the lobby and finally see your date.

Namjoon was waiting near the entrance, scrolling through his phone.

No Jungkook.

When he looks up, his eyes do a quick sweep of your outfit before settling back on your face.

“Wow?” He says, pushing his sunnies up to his head, “That’s your gym look?”

“This is activewear,” you reply dryly, stepping closer and adding, “Technically.”

It’s what you wore for pilates. The skirt had shorts attached to it underneath. But your breasts were a bit… under secured? A tinge risqué for the gym, but you weren’t planning on doing any heavy lifting.

Namjoon lets out a soft laugh and opens the door for you. "Noted. I’ll go easy on you anyway."

The sunlight hits you, blinding you instantly. You wanna fight it but tilt your face up, pretending to enjoy it.

Maybe you could gaslight yourself into believing it was about to be a lovely day ahead.

You wonder if Jungkook was at the gym yet.

Namjoon opens the door to the passenger seat for you and buckles you in, just so he has an excuse to get closer to your face and steal a kiss.

Bless his heart.

This gym isn’t what you expected.

Namjoon guides you inside and the two of you stop at the front desk.

Natural light streams in through tall windows. The gym is well lit and ventilated, tucked away from the street. It smells… good? Not like sweat, wet cardboard and disinfectant. It’s got, like, hints of oud, amber, something cologne-y and maybe eucalyptus.

Quite inviting.

The front desk lady smiles at you prettily. You return it.

Namjoon’s signing you in as his guest. You silently warn him against giving any of your personal information away.

There’s a hydration station to your left, stocked with little shot glasses filled with vibrant green liquid and large glass jars of veggie-infused water.

Your eyes flit around the room.

The walls were pale and the machines looked shiny and clean. Even the music was just instrumental and low enough for it to not feel like a club.

There were maybe fifteen to twenty people there.

But you’re looking for a very specific people.

Jeon Jungkook, of course.

You were about to wonder if he was there at all when you finally spotted him.

He was straight across from where you stood, knelt and leaning on this terrifying looking contraption. It truly looked crazy.

But more than his stance, what caught your eye was his arms. Your jaw is slightly ajar.

Then bringing your lips together, you furrow your brows.

His entire sleeve of ink, which you had only caught glimpses of otherwise, was on display. In person, it’s almost cinematic.

You hadn’t expected to see him like this. Your stomach tightens out of nervousness.

You bounce once on the balls of your feet without realizing it.

When Namjoon’s finally done, he leads you inside with your pale pink tumbler in hand.

You wordlessly, eagerly follow a few inches behind him.

It had been a while since you last saw Jungkook up close. Like, too long of a while.

You couldn't wait to---

Your eyes fall on another figure.

No.

Nooooo.

Of course, like a slap in the face, there she was.

On the machine right next to him was Hyewon. With her hair tied up neatly, face flushed from the physical exertion, she wore a fitted, black zip-up jacket and matching leggings.

Your face falls. You’re not sure you recover by the time she sees you and Namjoon.

Her face lit up with surprise, “_____! Hi!”

That’s when Jungkook stumbles.

You return a strained smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

You see Jungkook's legs drop a second too early from the machine as he glances over, following his girlfriend’s gaze.

His eyes land on Namjoon first, then on you. His eyes travel over your figure--- slowly. You’re certain it stalls somewhere around your chest for half a second too long before snapping back up to your face.

But you’re frozen, already feeling the burn in your cheeks.

Because Jeon Jungkook’s got fucking piercings.

Could he get any hotter? Oh, my God.

A small barbell at his brow, a silver ring at the corner of his lower lip, silver rings up his ears. What the fuck…

Where had this man been all your life?

You needed a second.

Jeon Jungkook had no right being this hot.

You’re still recovering from the visual assault when Namjoon casually announces, “This is _____’s first time in a gym.”

Hyewon lets out a little sound of surprise. Jungkook doesn’t react at all.

You want him to not react with his dick down your throat.

You blink a few times and rearrange your head, finally managing to roll your eyes and shake the Jungkook-induced haze out of your mind.

"So we're just gonna be over there." Namjoon points to another area, not too far away from the couple. "Let’s start you off with something easy…" Namjoon's already steering you gently by your waist, toward the cardio section. "Treadmill, maybe ten minutes?"

Cardio???

Uh, he was taking you to the wittle baby machines. No thank you.

“Nuh uh!” You interrupt, suddenly digging your heels in. “I wanna do what he’s doing.” You point straight at Jungkook like a toddler choosing their favorite toy.

Hyewon and Jungkook look at each other. Then back at you.

Jungkook immediately shakes his head, straightening up next to the Roman chair. “No way.” He says flatly. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

If only he knew you’d been doing reformer pilates for the past few months. You think you can handle it. Sort of.

But also, it’s kinda hot of him to be so… protective? Like the idea of you straining yourself worries him.

So you lean in a little, voice dropping just enough. “Oh…” You pout. “But won’t you help me?” There’s a glint of mischief in your eyes.

He doesn’t even blink. “No.” He says, firm.

Then he turns away and gets back on the machine, leaving you and Namjoon a bit dumbfounded.

Pfft. Whatever.

You bite back a smile.

He was annoyed.

How shameless were you? Were you actually flirting with him in front of his own girlfriend; your friend?

Hyewon deserved better than you.

(And him.)

Hyewon breaths a smile through her nose, “Well, if you need anything, let me know, okay?”

You look at her with a genuine smile. “Thanks, Wony. I think I’ll probably just go with what Joon’s doing first.” Insinuating that you’d seek her later.

Namjoon smiles at her as well.

He then tugs you away, still feeling entertained by you and Jungkook. “Let’s start with the treadmill, come on.”

You sigh dramatically, casting one last look over your shoulder.

Jungkook’s full focus was on whatever activity he was carrying out. Hyewon’s beside him, adjusting her gloves.

You drag your feet after Namjoon reluctantly.

The treadmill was whatever. Namjoon inclined it for you but it was still just whatever. Namjoon swore he thought you’d enjoy it. Most newbies did.

After fifteen minutes of that, Namjoon coaxes you into doing a few warm-up stretches.

You generally didn’t enjoy doing these in public but you obliged anyway. He took the lead and you followed.

The fucker would purposely try to make you bend over so he could ogle your tits.

Of course, you weren't going to give him that satisfaction. You're still annoyed at Namjoon for not finding time to fuck you.

Then he puts you on a machine where you stand and cycle; an elliptical.

Only fifteen minutes of it turned your legs into jelly.

It was so embarrassing to fall straight into Namjoon after getting off.

More so when you noticed Jungkook watching.

You wanted to cry. You were better than this.

Namjoon then patted your face a little, offering you a sip of his fruit juice.

Then he gestures toward another one of the beginner-friendly machines--- something with a padded bench and two handlebars. A seated chest press machine? You can't remember what it's called.

But you take one look at the bench and recoil.

No way you were sitting on that, nuh uh.

You protest. “Ugh, Namjoon, I’m not sitting on that.”

He looks at you incredulously, “Why not?”

You mirror his expression, “Think about how many butts have been on it and then ask me that again.”

As if he knew what you were going to say, he sighs, already pulling a pack of sanitizing wipes from his gym bag.

He had done this twice for the handles on the other two machines you’d been on.

He gives the whole thing a thorough wipe-down--- handles, bench, even the adjustment knobs.

You watch him with the faintest smirk.

At least he’s learning.

“There,” he says, stepping back.

You inch closer.

Then wrinkle your nose. “Still looks gross.”

Namjoon stares at you for a second, then gives in with a groan.

He shrugs off his jacket, folds it neatly, and lays it over the bench like it’s a cushion.

That was more like it!

You finally plop down on the jacket dramatically, crossing one leg over the other. "Ok, tell me what to do now."

You shrug a loose pigtail over your shoulder. An impractical hairstyle for the gym but you didn't want to compromise on your personal style.

Also, your hair had been super soft and silky that day.

♡

From across the room, Jungkook’s watching you struggle with the chest press.

He’s taking a break, a protein shake in hand, towel slung around his neck.

He’s still in disbelief a little. He had watched you wait around as his friend cleaned all the machines for you.

He even briefly heard you whine about something. Your voice was so irritating to him.

There’s no way you were that high maintenance.

Such a goddamn princess.

Thank goodness Hyewon wasn’t like that. He got lucky.

Almost on cue, Hyewon jogs up beside him, breathless and glowing, “Ok, ready!”

Jungkook sets down his bottle and adjusts the 25kg barbell for her with a small smile, checking the weight settings and spotting her like he usually did when they worked out together.

It wasn’t often but enough times for them to have their own little routine.

Jungkook watches out for signs of discomfort on his girlfriend's face. “Good job. You’re doing perfect, babe.”

Hyewon giggles breathily.

You see all of it.

And you’re instantly peeved.

Their whole… dynamic. Relationship, whatever. You didn't get it. They’re so basic it pisses you off.

Jungkook was so nice to her but he wouldn’t even smile at you.

Like so what if that’s his girlfriend?

Does he just never look at other people? You can't seem to fathom that.

Was Hyewon controlling?

Yeah, no. Even the thought of that seemed ridiculous.

You watched him hold her waist and glide his hand up and down her back.

Ugh. This wasn’t what you signed up for.

You weren’t gonna sit here and watch Jungkook feel his girlfriend up in public.

That should've been you!!

You let out a huff and look up at Namjoon. “I’m done.”

You sigh, standing abruptly. “I wanna go.”

Namjoon blinks. Now? “Wait, already?”

It had only been a bit over forty minutes. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to start his own, proper work out.

“I’m bored. This isn’t fun anymore.” You pout, blowing your hair out of your face.

Anymore. So you were enjoying it?

Maybe he could make you wait a while for him to finish up.

“Why don’t you go get a steam with Hyewon? I’ll finish up here by the time you’re done.” Namjoon bribes you with something he knew you'd like, hopeful.

But you don’t even entertain the idea. “No… it’s okay. I don’t want foot fungus.”

You sneak another glance at the couple, feigning a stretch.

They’re still engaged with each other.

Ughghdgh.

You were done for the day.

“I think I’m just gonna head home. Then maybe call for a massage.” You think a relaxing Thai massage would be perfect right now. “You can finish up here. I’ll see myself out!”

He sighs, wipes his hands on his shorts, and grabs his gym bag. He wasn't about to let you leave like this.

“Wait. I promised you a meal anyway. Let’s get brunch instead?” Namjoon offers.

Oh, right. You hadn’t even cared for that bit.

You blink owlishly. “I forgot about that. You really don’t have to-” - “No, I want to.” He smiles, hopeful.

You look unconvinced.

Namjoon’s staring you down.

He’s so persistent.

You’re mid performing your eye-roll-flirting combo when a shadow appears beside you.

Hyewon.

She looks curious, a little concerned even. “Everything okay?”

She noticed you and Namjoon having a bit of a disagreement so she had to check in on you.

Namjoon turns to her with a friendly smile, “Oh, yeah. _____’s over the gym. So we’re gonna head out actually.” He nods at the exit.

Hyewon’s lips form an ‘o’ and she nods slowly. She had hoped to spend some time with you.

Then, as if it suddenly occurs to him, Namjoon exclaims, "Oh!" You don't like the sound of that. "We’re just going to this little cafe nearby. You and Kook should join us. It’s not even ten minutes from here, he knows which one."

W-

Wait a damn minute.

When did this become a group activity? You hadn’t agreed to this!!

Why did Namjoon always have the wOrst ideas?

You turn your head sharply to glare at him. Neither of them catch on.

But Hyewon lights up instantly. “That sounds great!” She doesn't bother confirming with her boyfriend, knowing he’d agree to it if she asked nicely.

Hyewon had been meaning to find a way to sit down with you one of these days. Maybe get to know you better.

What better opportunity was she going to get than this?

Since her work lunches had never happened with you, she thinks this brunch may be an opening to more like these.

And just like that, your simple date with Namjoon… becomes something else entirely.

You tap your foot impatiently.

The three of you were forced to wait for fifteen more minutes for His Highness to finish his post-workout steam session.

Hyewon had tried to start conversations with you the entire time. Ones that you just couldn't care to follow up on. You can't do small talk.

You prayed Jungkook got a foot fungus.

Who did he think he was making you wait around for him like some lap dog?

Jungkook finally reemerged from the changing room dressed in a white button down, dark grey trousers and dress shoes.

You squint for a second. Was this just his regular getup?

No, you’ve seen photos of him in regular people clothes.

You shake it off. Maybe he was gonna return to the office. Did he ever rest?

As if you weren't already agitated. On top of waiting on Jungkook for so long, Namjoon makes you walk ten minutes to the eatery.

Namjoon walks beside you, holding both his gym bag and your Stanley Cup like a true gentleman. You hear Hyewon yapping behind you, attached to Jungkook’s arm like an accessory.

You can’t help it. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder. As does Namjoon, but for a totally different reason. He’s making sure they were all close together and you’re only sneaking peeks at Jeon Jungkook.

It pisses you off when Jungkook doesn’t even return your gaze.

What you don’t realise is that his eyes stayed glued to you when you weren’t looking.

But in his defence, you're in his line of vision whether he wants it or not.

So... Yeah.

When you got to the cafe, you were able to cut the line and get a table instantly because Jungkook and Namjoon knew the owners.

It's a pretty little place with a warm and welcoming atmosphere. It's a bit too brown for you but you get the appeal.

You think you read about this place in Vogue or something.

Inside, the host greets Namjoon by name and guides your party to a circular table. It had two pairs of stools placed on opposite sides, facing each other.

You take your seat beside Namjoon before anyone else could.

Jungkook and Hyewon sit across from you.

There’s not a lot of space--- your thigh is just barely touching Namjoon’s.

You weren't down with this arrangement.

“Joon, would you mind switching seats with me?” You ask sweetly, tugging lightly on his sleeve. “There’s a draft blowing right on my neck and it’s already beginning to give me a headache.”

“Yeah, of course,” Namjoon says without hesitation, already rising from his seat. He even offers you his jacket which you decline.

Uh, yeah, so there was no draft.

You just didn’t want to spend the next hour, or whatever, staring at Hyewon’s face when you could stare at Jungkook's instead.

Jungkook raises a brow. He, too, knew there was no draft. And if there was, were you really just about to put Namjoon through that discomfort?

It seemed so typical of you.

But you're a little happier now.

You were finally directly across Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook’s arms are folded; elbows on the table, muscles flexed. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Yet you could see his muscles through the white fabric.

His brow piercing glints under the sunlight streaming in from the massive window behind you.

He still refused to look you in the eye.

Was he shy or something?

He was crazy gorgeous.

You loved piercings on men.

Jungkook's muscles were so hot.

Namjoon was plenty muscular too but Jungkook’s were more toned and defined. And you like that a lot.

Ideally you didn't prefer muscular people but Jungkook's were perfect.

For the first time, you find yourself being jealous of another woman.

You couldn’t believe Hyewon’s luck. She really gets to have Jeon Jungkook to herself and call him hers.

You almost scoff.

Well... You would just have to change that.

Hyewon is already leading the conversation.

“I’ve been dying to try this place!” She exclaims, flipping the menu even though she clearly knows what she wants. “I’ve always heard them talk about it.” She directs at you.

You smile at her, but your eyes bat to Jungkook.

His face is unreadable.

His eyes flicker from the menu to his girlfriend. And then to you.

He stares at the side of your head when you’re looking at the menu in Namjoon’s hand.

Your hair fell beautifully on your eyes.

You don’t notice because you’re focused on Namjoon. He’s describing each drink to you and Hyewon.

The two of you then end up picking the same citrus raspberry hibiscus iced tea.

Namjoon leans toward you and points to one of the drinks in the smoothie section. “You’d like this one actually.” He explains, "It has like five kinds of berries."

You liked berries but you weren’t in the mood for anything heavy so you shook your head at his suggestion.

When the waiter arrives, Jungkook orders for everyone.

Taking charge. Nice.

Before he concludes, he looks at you, “Are you sure you don’t want the berry smoothie? It’s sweet.”

You almost startle because this was the first time he had initiated a conversation with you in weeks.

If Jungkook wanted you to try a berry smoothie, you were going to do just that.

It's psychology. You knew it'd inflate his ego and then maybe he'd give you a little more attention.

Smiling sweetly, you oblige. “Ok, I’ll try some.”

Namjoon raises a brow in fake-offence but lets it slide.

Jungkook nods and adds it to the order. He then smiles at the waiter.

You couldn’t look away. His smile was so attractive. Especially with the lip ring.

What was going on here in this place right now?

Namjoon briefly excused himself to take a work call outside.

You wave him off, asking him to hurry back.

Internally, you swore you were going to walk out if Jungkook and Hyewon started talking amongst themselves.

Jungkook sighs deeply and leans back in his stool.

As he relaxes, his shoe accidentally knocks against yours.

At that, he suddenly straightens up and throws you a quick apology. “Sorry.”

You simply smile at him as an 'It's okay.'

An awkward minute passes.

"By the way..." Thinking quick, you use this chance to open a conversation with him now that you had his attention. "I really like your piercings. I have them too."

Jungkook has always loved receiving compliments on his piercings and body art.

So he couldn't help but tell you about them.

He purposely ignores the comment about your own piercings though. He did not need to think about that right now.

He leans forward, flattered. "Thanks... I got my ears done in my late teens. Along with my first few tats on my fingers actually."

You gasp. Finger tats???

Without asking, you reach across the table and grab his hand with both of yours, bringing it closer. "Lemme see!"

Jungkook doesn't even flinch. Instead exhales a muted laugh.

He had to admit that was kinda cute of you.

You run your fingertips gently over the small designs on his knuckles and sides of his fingers.

They were a bit faded. Except for an emoji that you absolutely did not expect. It's the crazy looking one. 🥴.

So silly.

"Do you have to keep refilling them?" You asked out of genuine curiousity.

Jungkook nods. "Yeah. These tend to fade a lot faster because your hands are always in use and exposed to the elements. And the kind of tattoos I chose are called fine line tattoos, they'd fade anywhere on your body since they're made using just one thin needle."

He later adds, "But I prefer it."

You hum, tracing the patterns with a kind of reverence that makes Hyewon stiffen.

You tilt your head. "Hmm... Like if you get bored of it, you'd just need to wait for it to go away on its own rather than get it lasered off!"

"Exactly." Jungkook slightly smirked at you.

You’re quiet for a second, focused on his fingers, then look up at him with a grin. "These are so hot. Like criminally hot."

You also shoot his girlfriend a smile so you wouldn't seem too forward or predatory.

Jungkook huffs a little laugh but doesn’t pull away.

His hand stays in yours.

It gives you butterflies. It's like you don't know what to do with his hand. It's... There.

Hyewon’s voice cuts through, sounding casual but pointed. "That’s actually the first thing I noticed too!"

With her eyes only briefly on you before settling on Jungkook, she continued, "When we reconnected last year. He had the eyebrow and lip, and I was like, wow."

Hyewon then places a hand on his bicep. Staking her claim.

You wait for more but it never comes. What the hell kinda anecdote was that?

But it made sense for her to approach him instead of the other way around.

Then you echo, still holding her boyfriend's hand, "Reconnected?"

"Yes. We were in the same uni. He's older." Hyewon smiles tightly. "And we met again at Choi Soobin's party." She adds at the end, "Last October."

Wait, Soobin? Now your attention was on her.

That man was your first friend in uni. He's two years older though, so you only spent a year with him closely. He taught you how to drink. And you stayed in touch ever since.

But he'd only had one public party last year. That had to be it. You were there!

How had you not seen Jungkook then? (You were super drunk the entire time so... It makes sense.)

"Soobin's rooftop thing, right? I was there!!" You squeak.

Hyewon smiles wider now, nodding. "You were! You wore that white Chanel t-shirt. I loved that top. It's still my favourite look of yours."

It was like the most basic look you could've pulled together, but you don't say that. Maybe it was the lilies in your hair that gratified her.

You beam, resting your elbows on the table. "Thank you, Wony."

God, you'd always remember how you acquired that top.

"That outfit almost cost me my life." You exaggerate with a phew.

Sensing a story there, Hyewon stared at you questioningly.

Finally, you exaggeratingly roll yours eyes (not at her) and release her boyfriend's hand, preparing to narrate this thing that happened to you.

Undoing your wrap top for absolutely no reason, you begin with some background--- "OK, so, there's a little boutique in Troye. Like two hours from Paris, maybe? It's an 'unofficial official' discount store for Chanel. You can only access it if you regularly spend a certain amount of money at Chanel though."

You explain. "They don't like to advertise sales because that'll break the illusion of a luxury brand."

You didn't shop Chanel often, but your mother met the mark. That's how you gained access to it.

You were more of a Miu Miu and Sandy Liang girl.

Hyewon was now very intrigued. You had just given her some crazy insider info. Something only someone like you could offer. Something she could use to her benefit.

"Anyway, this lady really wanted to play tug of war with that top. She was such a tiny woman but she actually flung me across the room!"

You had only gotten to buy that top because she got kicked out.

Hyewon was thoroughly immersed, even getting over the fact that you had been playing with her boyfriends hand nonchalantly just a minute ago. And that he had LET you.

Either way, she felt herself slowly growing a friendship with you. Like, a genuine one.

It was either super easy to impress Hyewon or she was just deluded.

Namjoon returns just as finish the tale about your wrestling match in France.

You spot him first and sit up straighten in your seat.

Jungkook looks up too, eyes flicking to his friend in silent question.

Namjoon shrugs, muttering under his breath as he drags himself back into his seat, “Handled.”

Jungkook nods once, accepting the vague answer.

You grin at Namjoon and gloat, “You just missed a really fun story.”

He plays along, amused. "Yeah?" - "Mhm." You nod, with your nose up.

Hyewon was just about to complain about the service when three plates appear in front of you seemingly out of nowhere.

It even startles the two of you. Goodness. Whatever that was all about.

Jungkook's stack of protein pancakes looked weird to you. But the whipped cream was a good choice. He also got himself a cup of coffee, without sugar or cream or anything.

So bitter.

Namjoon got a bagel sandwich. It's stuff in a bagel, it's whatever. But it was huge. The portion size seems to match the price range.

So far, Hyewon had the best looking order.

A pretty bowl of shrimp with other healthy looking stuff.

You ask if you could take a picture of it.

She just nods excitedly, asking you to tag her if you post. You do.

(Somin is side-eyeing you, BTW.)

Your smoothie looked a bit menacing though. It was scarily red. But only a sip told you otherwise. "Mmm!! Yum!" This was aimed at Jungkook who just nodded satisfyingly, and then you turn to Namjoon who shot you a smug smile.

You hum in content and reach out for the iced tea drink next.

The tea tasted like soap.

Disappointed, you frown at your straw.

The flavours of the smoothie had overpowered the tea.

You pout a little, and feel a little annoyed when nobody notices or says anything.

Jungkook did though.

Jungkook almost shook his head. Like, what did you expect?

Namjoon and Hyewon start talking about some high profile client who recently left Hyewon's firm to join J, K & K.

You hear the name in passing, some tech company whose CEO allegedly had a meth addiction.

When Namjoon mentions something about a prenup, hinting that this CEO was getting married, you see Jungkook freeze for just a breath, his fork pausing mid air.

His jaw flexes for a second before he resumes chewing.

He was clearly upset. You don't know why.

Jungkook was irritated by Namjoon's tendency to ignore confidentiality clauses. This could've been troublesome had you been someone else and listened to their conversations.

You snuck peeks at him, pretending to pay attention to Namjoon.

Jungkook's such a cutie.

You doubt he even realises it.

Sometimes, he looks so round. You bit your lip to hold back a smile.

Generally, a lunch date like this, where people had co-conversations away from you, would've bored you. But simply watching Jeon Jungkook was really fun. You don't know if he noticed you were.

(He did.)

Your legs are crossed under the table, and on impulse, you decide to do something. Just to see what happens. You uncross them slowly.

Slipping a shoe off, you inch your sock clad foot toward Jungkook’s.

A second later, you slowly slide it next to Jungkook’s foot.

He feels it.

But doesn’t react.

You take it a little further and rest your foot on his shoe for a minute, just to test the waters.

And nothing.

Jungkook doesn't seem to care.

Hm… interesting.

You blink at him slowly like a cat. He was trying hard not to look at you directly. But, his eyes did involuntarily wander to you.

When he still doesn’t shake you off, you move up his ankle. You hold eye contact and watch his reaction closely.

Jungkook goes stiff.

Letting a shaky breath out, he takes a sip of his coffee.

And at the exact same time, you drag your foot up his calf.

His eyes widen and he chokes on his coffee, nearly breaking into a coughing fit.

Namjoon and Hyewon abruptly turn to Jungkook, startled.

Hyewon, alarmed, starts patting his back. “Are you okay, baby?”

You snatch your foot back, innocently watching him with wide, doll-like eyes.

Jungkook furrows his brows, trying to hold his coughs in and shakes his head, reassuring his girlfriend, “Mm. Yeah, it’s- I’m ok now.” He nodded.

When he recovers, like barely, Hyewon continues with her story, not wanting to lose her train of thought. But she still glances at her boyfriend from time to time.

This was funnn. You smile cheekily.

Jungkook gives you a warning look, thinking, 'You better not act up again.'

You study him through your lashes as you suck on your straw.

And only a few beats later, you strike again.

This time, you’re bolder. Slower. Higher. Sliding your foot from his calf to his knee. Making circular, rubbing motions on it gently.

Your core tingles a little, making you clench around nothing.

You stare into Jungkook’s eyes, giving him a blank expression.

But he could clearly see the mischief dancing behind your irises.

And then, you make the most tender move.

You aim and press your foot directly on his thigh.

In one swift move, he suddenly grabs your foot under the table, startling you.

You almost squeak but somehow manage to hold your shock in. Your eyes widened and fall to the plate in front of him.

Fuck.

This was exhilarating.

He’s staring you down now, unbeknownst to Hyewon and Namjoon who were looking at something on her phone.

Jungkook holds your foot firmly on his thigh. He doesn’t let go.

Your lips part a little, unsure of what to say or do.

You glance up at Jungkook through your lashes--- and he’s still looking right at you. Eyes narrow and sharp.

You gulp visibly and your chest heaves faintly. You bite your cheek.

He squeezes the top of your foot ever so slightly and your stomach flips. You press on to him harder.

This. Was. So. Hot.

His hand covered almost your entire foot.

Jungkook could probably manhandle you way better than Namjoon. Joon was strong but pretty clumsy. Jungkook though… He seems to know how to use his strength.

Involuntarily, you moan a little at the thought, accidentally drawing everyone's attention to you.

Oops.

“You okay?” Namjoon asks you. You were more than okay.

You snap your head at him and blink. “Mhm!”

Eventually, Jungkook lets go of your foot.

You behave for the rest of the meal. Still peering at Jungkook every so often.

You don’t know how Hyewon hadn’t noticed. And if she had, she didn't say anything.

You're relatively silent, only responding when spoken to. Something Jungkook secretly seemed to find delight in.

He had managed to shut you up. That's a win in his book.

When the bill comes, Jungkook grabs it before Namjoon could.

Also hot.

But before he pays, he turns to you with a raised brow, “Are you sure you don’t want anything? You barely ate.”

You’re caught off guard by this.

Was he displaying... concern?

You tilt your head. “I’m okay... I had breakfast with my family earlier.”

“They have really good chicken salad.” Unconvinced, he suggests. “You could get a takeaway.”

You pause. The softness in his voice disarms you. You clench your toes in your shoes.

“I’m okay.” You affirm softly, hoping nobody notices your reddening cheeks. You squirm in your seat a little.

He nods and proceeds to hand his card over to the server, sneaking one final glance at you.

Although you initially dreaded it, this joint lunch had been... so, so fruitful.

More than that, you now know your advances toward Jungkook were indeed approved.

It was weird though.

You sort of felt like a school girl with a crush on her teacher.

Very strange.

note: sorry it's so goddamn long once again, i thought i could break it into two parts but i didn't want to make you wait any longer

i skipped sleep for this so please tell me if that was worth it or not, ok? lovely

also do you guys think jks gonna tell hyewon about this or nah

231 notes · View notes

eufezco · 21 hours ago

Text

BUCKY'S SECOND FIRST TIME PT. 2

synopsis – the day after having sex with bucky and the next night.

a/n – this is a second part of this fic but i think you can also read it as a single fic.

smut. fluff

he did not sleep at all that night, fearing that he would not be able to control his nightmares and that he would end up waking you up, or even worse, hurting you. instead, he spend the time you were sleeping thinking about how things had gone between you to get to that point, with you asleep in his arms and him admiring how the sun's rays shone on your face.

bucky carefully got up from the couch and covered you with the blanket. you hummed, missing the feeling of his warm body against yours. he got dressed, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake you up and before leaving, he softly called your name. you hummed again, letting him know that you were listening.

—i gotta go, sam's waiting for me, but huh, i've made you some breakfast. you can stay as long as you want. my keys are in the kitchen, just lock the door when you leave and i'll stop by the bar tonight to pick them up.

you nodded, with your eyes closed, half asleep, and he nodded back. he had to leave now or else he'd be late. should he just say goodbye? leave without saying anything else to let you sleep? should he kiss you goodbye? would it be weird if he didn't after last night, right? and where should he kiss you? your cheek? your lips maybe?

bucky finally decided to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead and you curled up in the blanket. god, if only he could stay with you.

bucky would be lying if he said he didn't spend the whole day thinking about you and you'd be lying if you said that you had not waited all day for closing time to see him again. that day sam saw bucky distracted as ever which almost got them killed by those terrorists. and it is true that the super soldier often got lost in his thoughts and stared at a fixed point for a suspicious amount of time, but this time sam noticed something different, like a sparkle in bucky's eyes.

sam got to the bar first. there was no one left, just you and him. you two had a nice chat, he brought up bucky several times during your conversation and you giggled every time he did. maybe sam thought he wasn't being obvious but he was, he wanted to see your reaction every time he mentioned his friend. weren't you already too obvious about your feelings for him? didn't bucky told him about last night?

bucky arrived right at closing time but as usual, you kept the bar open just so you could spend time with him. sam was using the bathroom when bucky walked in and thank god, because you'd have been so embarrassed if anyone had seen your face when you saw bucky with a bunch of red roses in his hand.

—hi, —he said.

—hey, —you felt your cheeks burning hot.

—too old-fashioned?

you huffed a laugh and nodded. —very.

bucky walked to the bar counter and handed you the flowers.

—i hope you like roses. i didn't know your favorite flower so i picked roses because i think red roses suit you and everybody loves—

bucky was getting nervous and talking very fast.

—they are perfect, james, thank you, —you cut in gently. —roses are my favorite.

bucky slowly nodded and you showed him a small smile. the eye contact was so intense that if it hadn't been for sam coming out of the bathroom at that moment, you would have jumped over the counter and kissed him.

of course, the second sam laid eyes on the roses in your hands, he couldn’t help himself, he just wanted to mess with old bucky for a bit. probably said something like and nothing for me? damn, i thought we had something special, making you laugh and bucky roll his eyes.

—oh, this is yours, —you handed bucky his keys. —i'll get you something to drink, —and you went to the back to get a beer for him, leaving the two friends alone. it was at that moment that bucky noticed sam's face.

—what was that?

—what was what?

—she had your keys.

—apparently, yes.

—why did she have your keys, bucky?

—she was home last night.

—what do you mean she was home last night?

—she came home and when we knew, it was too late for her to leave. you know, it was dark and dangerous and stuff.

—too dangerous for a super soldier to walk her home?

they locked eyes in silence and bucky finally rolled his and mumbled a fine, giving up. sam exclaimed an oh my god and bucky had to shush him, panic flashing across his face. he knew sam well enough to recognize when a teasing storm was coming and he wasn't let it happen in front of you.

after you came back with bucky's drink, sam leaned back in the chair as he watched you and his friend. the glances you exchanged, the teasing smirks, the awkward pauses and the way bucky’s voice softened every time he spoke to you. sam sighed, trying to suppress a grin. this was entertaining at first but now? now it was just... painfully obvious.

after some fun conversation with the two of them, you locked the door of the bar behind you and when you stepped out, there they were. bucky offered to walk you home, well, offered wasn’t exactly the right word. it wasn’t up for debate. he wasn’t going to let you walk home alone, and it was clear by the way he stood there, hands in his pockets, already prepared to go with you. sam nodded slowly.

—alright, i’m heading out. you two kids behave, —sam teased, smirking as he looked between you and bucky.

you started walking together, your steps naturally falling in sync. the quiet between you wasn’t awkward, it was comfortable, maybe even a little shy after what happened last night. it was nice being with him like this, without the usual rush of the day. without thinking much of it, you slipped your hand through the crook of his arm, linking it with his as you walked. you didn’t even register that it was his metal arm.

bucky tensed for a second. you blinked, your fingers closing slightly to confirm it was, in fact, vibranium beneath your touch. —oh, —a small laugh escaped your lips. —i didn’t notice. does it bother you?

he shook his head quickly, his lips tugging into a faint smile. —no, it doesn’t bother me, —his voice softened. —i’m just not used to… people being okay with it. most people...

you tilted your head slightly, your hand still resting comfortably against his arm. —well, i’m not most people, —you said, your tone light but your meaning clear. the corner of bucky's mouth quirked up in the faintest of smiles, and for a moment, you thought you saw the shadow of a weight lift from him.

—no, —he murmured, his voice soft and warm. —you’re not.

when you arrived to your place, you stopped at the door. neither of you said anything for a moment, like there were too many thing hanging in the air and you didn't want to be the first to start. you let go of his arm slowly as you turned to unlock the door.

—so, —you said, —thanks for walking me home.

bucky nodded, hands in his pockets again. —anytime.

you smiled, heart beating a little too fast. you didn't want the night to end, not yet. and by the way bucky lingered on your doorstep, eyes moving from you to the ground and back again, he didn't seem ready to leave either.

—do you wanna come in?

bucky looked up and slowly nodded, —yeah. yeah, i do.

and trying not to smile to big, you stepped aside to let him in.

he noticed every detail, moving from the pictures on your walls to the small dining table by the window. it felt like someone actually lived there, nothing like his house. he looked at the little touches that made it undeniably yours: the thrown pillows on the couch that didn’t quite match, the stack of books on the coffee table... his hands shoved into his pockets as if he was afraid to touch anything.

you told him to wait for you on the couch as you moved to the kitchen to put the flowers in water and grab two glasses and the bottle of wine you kept on the fridge for those nights when you came home late from work, too wired to sleep but too tired to do much else.

you sat next to him on the couch, the two glasses on the small table in front of you as you filled them. you handed one to him.

—is this your i survived another shift wine? —bucky asked, taking a small sip.

you giggled, —something like that. but tonight i guess it's the i'm glad james barnes is here with me wine.

bucky shook his head, a little smile at his lips, clearly not quite used to how to handle flirting yet. —you can call me bucky.

you'd never called him that before. you thought it was a name reserved for people who'd earned their place in that small inner circle of his. so you always stuck with james but after last night and after having him in your place, thighs brushing against each other, it felt different.

—okay... bucky.

and one glass of wine turned into another. and the conversation flowed so easily with him. you started talking about each other's day, casually avoiding the fact that most of your thoughts had been occupied by him. and his, by you. and of course about what happened last night. then the conversation turned into funny stories that had nothing to do with saving the world or running a bar.

bucky talked like he didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing in front of you.

your elbow rested on the couch, your cheek against your hand and the wine glass forgotten on the coffee table. you watched him as he spoke. his blue eyes caught the soft light of your living room, moving from you to the glass of wine in his hands then back to you, and when they landed on you, they stayed a little longer than before.

you bit your lip, caught off guard by how handsome he was. you hated to admit it but his voice fell into a second place and your eyes and thoughts began to dissipate the curve of his pink lips, the thought of them trailing down your neck, the way his beard tickled your sensitive skin there, made you shift on the couch.

and in one of those moments, where his eyes landed on you, you leaned in and planted a kiss in the middle of his mouth, soft and quick, a hint of what'd been in your mind all day.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to see his reaction.

he looked almost shy, not used to this kind of sudden affection. you caught the way his eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there like he didn't mean to but couldn't help it. there was something so boyish in the way he shifted, like a man who hadn't yet figured out how to handle being wanted so openly.

—sorry, —bucky said under his breath though he didn't move away.

—what for? i kissed you.

his eyes moved back to yours, checking to make sure you weren't teasing him.

—for staring. sam says is creepy and...

you said nothing, just watched him.

—... my therapist says i've got some sort of staring problem, i don't know, i guess i just...

while he rambled, you reached out and took the glass of wine from his hand, careful not to interrupt him too abruptly. you leaned forward to place it on the coffee table. he continued talking and you nodded, as if you were paying attention to what he was saying.

then you moved closer to him on the couch, closing the last bit of space between your bodies. your hand slid up the side of his neck and you guided him to you, tilting his face until your lips met his again. and bucky finally responded like you wanted, like he'd been waiting for it all day, because he had, maybe longer.

one of his hands rested on your hip, squeezing you and trying to guide you onto his lap, but instead, with your hand on the back of his neck, you leaned back into the couch and gently pulled him with you. he followed your lead as you allowed him on top of you, your legs at both sides of body, making room for him.

his lips devoured yours, one of his knees came to press your pussy through your clothes, making pull a way from his lips to moan.

—is this okay? shit, sorry, should've asked...

you nodded, reaching for his lips again, your fingers deep into his hair, —more than okay.

bucky kept kissing you like a starving man. his lips moved with more confidence than last night, his hands slid down your sides to your waist, his knee still pressed in between your legs. you gasped softly against his lips as his fingers found the button of your jeans.

—wait, —you said against his lips, breathless but clear.

bucky froze immediately, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes, —you okay? did i do something wrong?

you shook your head quickly, —no, no. you're perfect, i just... —you lifted your head from the couch to give a quick kiss to his lips to let him know that you wanted to keep going. —... don't want the couch again.

bucky let out a breathy laugh, relieved, and nodded. before you could even move, his hands slid beneath your thighs and lifted you off the couch. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your arms hugged his neck. and bucky held you with ease, like you weighed nothing at all. that damn super serum.

—i could've just walked, you know?

—yeah, but where's the fun in that?

you kissed him again as he walked to your room, his lips wet and plump. your hands stayed tangled in his hair as he pushed the door open with his leg and stepped inside like he belonged there. he stopped by the bed and lowered you onto the mattress.

as bucky lay on top of you and his lips met yours again, your hands found the hem of his tshirt, curling under it slowly, giving him a chance to stop you if he wanted to. you remembered the hesitation in his eyes last night, when your hands had first roamed over bare skin, how he'd instinctively turned slightly like shielding you from seeing too much. now, his body tensed, not with resistance, but in the way of someone not used to that kind of touch.

—you okay? it's okay if you need to stop.

he shook his head, his hands coming to hold both of your cheeks. bucky didn't even want the thought of stopping crossing your mind because it never crossed his, —i'm okay. i want you.

the words came out of his lips before he could stop them and a faint flush crept up his neck. before embarrassment swallowed him, your fingers threaded into the back of his head as you pulled him into a kiss, —i want you too, —you whispered.

you pushed the tshirt and he lifted his arms and let you take it off. "there's nothing she hadn't seen before, it's not going to scare her", bucky reminded himself. and you had to press your lips together to stop the small sound that nearly slipped out the second you threw his tshirt. your hands rested on his chest, hard and warm under your palms as you lifted your head from the mattress and caught his lips.

—you're beautiful, fuck, —you mumbled against his lips. your nails scratched his abdomen until they reached the button of his jeans. that did something to him. he let out a sound low in his throat and he kissed you harder, teeth almost clashing, his body pressing more firmly into yours.

oh, you thought, he likes that. a bit of sweet with the praise, a bit rough with your nails.

—wait, —bucky said. your fingers paused on the zipper of his jeans and your eyes searched his face for any sign of discomfort, but he didn't look scared, just nervous, like he was about to say something he wasn't sure he was allowed to want, —i wanna try something.

and you nodded, glad that he felt confident enough around you to try new things. bucky adjusted his position on the bed and you only took a couple of seconds to realize that he was moving down between your legs. he was focused, eyes dark, as he looked at you. your chest rose with anticipation, you sat up on your elbows so you could get a good look of him.

—is this okay? —bucky asked, face just above the zipper of your jeans. the look in his eyes told you he wanted this badly, but he also wanted to get it right.

you nodded, —more than okay, yeah, but are you sure about it?

—yeah, i just... need you to guide me.

bucky took care of your jeans and underwear fast. you lifted of your hips and he slid them down quickly. then his hands brushed over your thighs as he spread them gently. he settled between them, shoulders broad, fitting perfectly there like that's exactly where he was meant to be.

his lips attached to the inside of your thighs, placing open mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin there. god, not only was he a fast learner but now he'd also turned into a fucking tease. you closed your eyes and swallowed, trying to act as if you were not already clenching around nothing. bucky's beard pricked the inside of your legs as he kissed his way up.

—can i?

you nodded again, your eyes locked on his.

bucky dragged your panties down your hips. he kept his eyes on you the entire time and as they slipped past your knees and down your ankles, he leaned in again, placing one last kiss to the inside of your thigh. bucky looked at you with pure adoration. every part of you and your body the more he realized that he loved it.

he planted a first kiss on your clit. your body jerked at the sudden contact and your lips parted, a soft moan coming out of them. if this wasn't the most beautiful sound bucky had ever heard. he smiled and kissed your clit again, yet he didn't pull back this time and his lips attached to your bundles of nerves.

the more time he spent between your legs, the more you felt his confidence growing. bucky was learning you. and he did it fast. at first he didn't quite know what to do with his hands, he didn't want to grab you too hard or assume too much. you could also feel it in his lips, the way they kissed and licked you. careful and slow. it was nice the first few minutes, but then it started to get painful.

you rolled your hips against his mouth, trying to get more of him, as you cried out a "more, bucky... please". your hands clutched the sheets below you, you didn't want to overwhelm him. but listening to you beg for more awakened something inside him.

his hands came and pushed your legs even wider, pressing your thighs flat against the mattress. the movement spread you open more, exposing you completely to him and bucky's mouth devoured you. kissing and sucking on your clit, playing with his tongue. it was wet and messy, and you could hear him moan against you like he was enjoying this too himself.

and he was. he was having the time of his life between your legs. every sound you made, every shift of your hips against his mouth, every time you whispered his name, breathless and begging for more...

—i need... i need your... —you tried to say. bucky hummed against your clit, the vibrations making it even more difficult to finish the sentence. —you fingers, please...

he looked up to you, begging, head tilted back, lips parted with soft gasps, eyes closed shut, back arched, how could he deny you anything? his right hand came and teased your entrance. you whined in response and tried to speak again, but his mouth never stopped working on your clit.

his metal hand stayed firm, holding your left thigh but your right one was free now. you lifted it and placed it over his shoulder as bucky pushed one of his fingers inside you. you moaned, loud, when the movements of his finger matched with the ones of his mouth. and then he added another finger. the pleasure was too much, too constant. you couldn't escape it, you couldn't even breathe through it, just cry his name and grab at his hair, and hearing you fall apart made him more focused, more driven.

your right leg was freed when bucky felt you were close, when you were getting tighter around his fingers. your thighs squeezed his head. his fingers curled just right, his mouth never broke rhythm and you came with a cry of his name, back arching off the mattress and hands pulling from his hair. bucky stayed through all of it, letting you ride it out until your body finally began to soften beneath him.

as you tried to catch your breath, you looked down at him. still between your legs, hair was a little messy from your hands, cheeks flushed, lips wet and pink. what a view.

when you had recovered, you sat on the bed as you leaned in, finding him still laying. you cupped his jaw and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. bucky pushed himself up with his hands against the mattress, following your lead as you let yourself fall back on the bed.

bucky held his weight above you. his body was between your legs as you worked on the zipper of his jeans and he never stopped kissing you. your hands trailed down his abdomen and moved to waistband of his jeans, fingers at the zipper with urgency. as you finally slid the zipper down and your hand brushed against him through the fabric of his underwear, bucky moaned into the kiss. he was hard as a fucking rock.

he kicked off his jeans as you pulled your own tshirt over your head, tossing it aside. and he tried, but it was impossible not to stare. his eyes scanned you fast, like he didn't know where to look first, like he couldn't believe you were letting him see you like this.

you reached for him again. you felt his cock pressing against you and as your lips moved together, wet and messy, you wrapped your hand around it and lined him up and shifted your hips. the moment the tip slipped inside you, both of your mouths opened, a shared breath of surprise and relieve. your legs went quick around his body, pushing him deeper. his hands gripped the mattress on either side of your shoulders from the way he filled you so perfectly.

—now you're on top... —you murmured. his hands tightened, like he was barely holding back, —...fuck me the way you like it.

and he started slow, making sure his weight never pressed down too hard. his forehead dropped to yours as his hands moved to your hips with confidence, guiding the rhythm gently. you moaned and bit your lower lip as his thrust were long and deep.

then he picked up his own rhythm, each movement more confident than the last, the sound of skin slapping against each other finally filling the room. his body pressed yours completely into the mattress, hard chest brushing yours with every movement. you felt caged by him but never suffocated.

and when you were close, too close to think straight, you clung to bucky, hands tight on his back pulling him even closer if possible. you could feel it in him too, the tension in his body, the uneven thrusts, the desperate sounds he tried to hold back but couldn't. so you mumbled into his ear "i want you to... inside. please, bucky..." and he couldn't hold it anymore.

bucky tried to hide his face in the crook of your neck when it hit him, but your hand found his face as you guided him back to you and you held him there, watching as he came. his eyes squeezed shut, his lips parted letting out a moan. yet he didn't stop after that, because he knew you weren't done, so bucky fucked himself through his own overstimulation. his sensitive body still thrust into you, pushing his cum deeper inside you.

and when you finally reached your high, legs squeezing him, bucky held you through it, murmuring your name, pressing his lips to your forehead and whispering "i've got you".

bucky didn't move right away, he just stayed there, inside you, with your legs tangled together. your breathing was still slowing and syncing with his. he brushed the damp strands of fair from your forehead while your fingers slipped into his hair, gently curling them there with no plans of letting him go anytime soon.

—you okay? —you asked.

bucky nodded, —you?

you nodded back, —you damn sure know how to use that mouth, huh.

bucky huffed a breathed laugh, embarrassed, hiding himself in the crook your neck.

after cleaning yourselves up, you both went back to the bed, naked, feeling each other's warmth under the covers, skin against skin. you made your way into bucky's arm, one of his hands traced careful shapes along your spine while the other one held you close.

you talked for a little while, half whispered thoughts about everything and nothing, little stories, soft laughs and occasional kisses. but eventually your words grew slower and you shifted, curling closer, until you fell asleep. and his eyes stayed open, focused on you, not because he wasn't tired, he was exhausted, but the nightmares were still too real. bucky tried, like the night before, to stay awake, but this time it felt different. the weight of your body pressed against his, the soft mattress beneath him, nothing like the cold hard floor he'd grown used to...

he fight to keep his eyes open, his lids would droop only to snap back open, but then his muscles relaxed and his breath and his mind quieted and for the first time bucky fell asleep peacefully.

136 notes · View notes

lonerslug · 3 days ago

Note

could u make a fic about arcane but the characters are just acting? Like they are actors filming the show arcane. (it could be about all the characters or just sevika:3)

“AND… ACTION!”

Sevika kicks open the prop door, cigarette in her mouth, artificial metal arm gleaming under the studio lights. She stalks in like she owns the bar. Because she does. According to the script.

“You think you can just waltz into my territory?” she snarls at Vi, voice deep and gravelly. Vi doesn’t flinch.

“I didn’t come here to talk,” Vi says coolly, fists clenched, chin up.

They stare each other down.

Silence.

Then Sevika pauses, squints.

“…is that a redbull in your back pocket?”

Vi bursts out laughing.

“CUT!”

Someone from behind the camera groans.

“You guys, please. This is the eighth take.”

Sevika waves her cigar around like a conductor’s wand. “Why is she allowed to smuggle energy drinks onto set? I get a pat-down for gum.”

Vi’s still laughing, holding up the offending can. “I was gonna drink it after, but Queen of Metal Arms here got so close I felt it crushing my ass.”

The director facepalms. “Can we reset? Back to one. Sevika, maybe just don’t sniff her pocket this time?”

“Not making promises,” Sevika mutters, smirking.

INT. MAKEUP TRAILER - MORNING

Sevika lounges in a chair wearing pajama pants and a robe, eyes closed as a makeup artist buffs fake grime onto her cheek.

Next to her, Silco’s actor is sipping an oat milk latte and reading The New Yorker.

“You see Jinx’s stunt double sprain her ankle yesterday?” he asks casually.

“She flew across the set,” Sevika says. “I told them the zipline was too fast.”

“Production says they’ll ‘tone it down.’” He makes air quotes. “So probably just send someone else flying into a wall tomorrow.”

“Love this job.”

“Insane job.”

They sip their drinks in synchronized deadpan silence.

INT. COSTUME HOLDING – LUNCH BREAK.

Caitlyn’s actor is sitting on the floor, eating chips from her corset.

Jinx is upside down on the couch, legs dangling over the backrest, hair full of bobby pins. She’s mid-rant.

“So then I told the intimacy coordinator I wasn’t kissing Vi,” Jinx says, gesturing wildly. “And he goes, ‘Why not? It’s subtextual.’ And I’m like, what’s subtextual is that I want to push her down a flight of stairs, not kiss her!”

Vi, entering with a burrito: “I’d let you. That’s real friendship.”

Caitlyn: “I thought you two were fighting about the stunt choreography?”

“We are.”

“We’re always fighting,” Jinx calls.

“We’re sisters,” Vi says with a shrug. “Canonically and spiritually.”

They bump fists. Chips fly everywhere.

INT. STAGE B – NIGHT SHOOT.

Scene: Silco’s death.

Sevika’s supposed to be holding back tears, rage bubbling under her stoic surface. The lights are low. Everything is quiet.

Except the crew can hear someone wheezing behind the set walls.

“Who the hell —” Silcos actor sits up, breaking character.

The boom mic guy peeks out. “Sorry. Jinx tried to make me laugh by texting ‘Silco dies like a girlboss’ and I couldn’t hold it in.”

Sevika loses it.

“GIRLBOSS?!” she wheezes. “HE DIED IN MY ARMS.”

Jinx, “Feminism, babe.”

INT. AMBESSA’S TRAILER – LATE NIGHT.

The cast thinks Sevika goes home after shoots.

She doesn’t.

She slips into a black trailer with tinted windows, where Ambessa waits with her hair tied up and a glass of red wine.

“How many retakes today?” she asks, lounging on the couch in silk pajamas.

“Too many. Vi kept forgetting her lines. Jinx knocked over a camera. I forgot how to walk once.”

“Charming,” ambessa says, sipping.

Sevika flops onto the couch beside her, pulls her boots off with a grunt. “This show’s gonna kill me.”

“You love it,” Ambessa teases, brushing hair from Sevika’s forehead. “You love pretending to be angry and grizzled and morally gray.”

“I am angry and grizzled and morally gray.”

Ambessa smirks. “You cried at the end of Paddington 2.”

“That bear was framed.”

They kiss, quietly, off-script.

INT. CAST WRAP PARTY – LAST DAY OF FILMING.

Everyone’s screaming. Jinx brought a karaoke mic. Viktor is drunk. Ekko is dancing. Caitlyn is telling Jayce to shut up about his personal brand.

Sevika’s in a suit jacket over a tank top, dancing with a drink in one hand and Ambessa’s hand in the other.

“You know people are gonna ship us now,” Ambessa murmurs in her ear.

“They already do,” Sevika says. “There’s fanart.”

“What?”

“Someone tagged me in a drawing of us making out. In full costume. On a tank.”

Ambessa laughs, deep and rich.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” she asks.

Sevika just pulls her closer, presses a kiss to her neck, and whispers:

“Hope they post more.”

a/n: i hope this was okayyy??

taglist: @georgiahs-stuff @illbecanon @riotstemple29 @shanesevikasfuckdoll @sapphicstrawcore @sevikaswinkinghole @shxdy0ariia @barelykiramman @sevikas-whore

96 notes · View notes

kotonoba · 2 days ago

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Zoro x fem reader, where Chopper accidentally gives Zoro a sleeping tonic that's maybe too strong for him, Reader ends up getting stuck babysitting the world’s most dangerous napping swordsman. So, from dragging him out of the kitchen fire he caused to keeping Luffy from drawing on his face, she becomes the swordsman's unofficial caretaker. Though, through all the shenanigans, what she didn't expect was the way he murmurs her name even while asleep, or how his head always ends up resting in her lap? You can fill in the rest... maybe a slow-burning romance?

The Tired One (Zoro/F!Reader)

Summary: An accidental sleep tonic turned deadly? Emotions are running high on a ship that only has three females to share.

a/n: This took me three days. It's not that it was hard, I was catching up on my sleep debt. Also, been watching too much analog horror, sorry for the title.

Warning(s): none

Posted on AO3

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

Recently, you have heard Zoro complain that the booze hasn’t been strong enough; he has been complaining about it ever since, well, forever. The complaining has gotten so bad that Chopper took it into his own hands to create a potent tonic for Zoro. But, what no one expected was that it wasn’t alcoholic, it was a sleep tonic, a sleep potion to be exact. At the same time, you’re aware of everything regarding the ship and the people living on it. What you weren’t expecting after leaving the Crow’s Nest from your training was to smell smoke and the cook raging at Zoro.

You rush in to see half the kitchen on fire, Sanji attacking Zoro, Zoro defending, but… asleep. You rubbed your eyes before squinting a little harder to check if your eyes were playing tricks on you. And, lo and behold, they were not. The swordsman was fast asleep. You moved over to separate the two from attacking, “I’ll look after Zoro, okay?” Sanji seemed to agree to that, as you turned around, Zoro was gone. Out the door and gone with the wind. You hurried after him, leaving the chaos of the kitchen fire to Sanji to deal with.

You see him trying to jump into the ocean; he was already taking off his shirt. Sometimes, you think he’s just acting when he’s asleep, but you forget who you’re taking care of as you run over, calling his name in attempts to catch his attention despite being asleep. You pull him back by his waistband, where he fumbles and falls on–almost–you, but with your quick reflexes, you manage to push him to the side before he falls on you like a sack of potatoes. You drag him into the shadier parts of the Thousand Sunny. Seeing as he had calmed down, you decided to grab yourself a book to keep yourself entertained.

By the time you had returned, Luffy was drawing on Zoro’s face, of course. As if your day can’t get any worse, don’t jinx that. You rush over to stop Luffy, “Luffy! You need to go help Sanji with the kitchen fire that Zoro caused because you…” You pulled an excuse out of someone’s ass. Just not yours, “you drew on his face, and now it’s your problem.” You tried to reason. It was outrageous, no one was going to fall for that–

“Aw, okay,” Luffy pouts, dropping the marker and walking into the kitchen.

Dumbfounded by him even agreeing to such an outrageous excuse, you sigh and sit beside the sleeping swordsman. Wiping off the marker print to the best of your ability with your shirt. You couldn’t risk going over to pick up his shirt and Luffy coming back to draw, or he had run off elsewhere.

While you began reading your book Be Bold with Bananas, you had a taste for strange books. The crew found it hilarious that you even have a collection of weirdly titled books. Occasionally, Chopper would request that you read something to him from your collection out of curiosity; you sometimes find Robin reading your books because she thought it was interesting.

Now that you think about it, Zoro had been suspiciously eyeing your books too, not reading them, but he does watch you read in between his training time. As you begin reading, you hear Zoro mumble in his sleep. You didn’t take anything a sleepwalking danger sign said to heart. Of course, what caught your attention was when he whispered your name in the most obscure, low growl, as if you stole something from him.

Offended, you closed your book, a hand to your chest as if he had just insulted your taste in books, “...adorable,” you tilted your head at his choice of words. Unsure if he would put your name and the word adorable in the same sentence, as you had harassed him as much as Sanji had about his inability to find directions. “You’re,” you listen intently. “Adorable when you talk…” You felt your body heat up from the sudden confession. “But your taste in books is stranger than Chopper hiding the wrong way.” You hit him over the head, not that he flinched at anything. You didn’t think your taste in books was strange at all. How dare he?

As you turn away from him to read again, you find him inching closer to you. You check under him to see Robin’s hands playing a trick on your mind by pushing him closer to you. Instead, there was nothing. So, you go back to your book, but by the time you notice him way too close, his head is already in your lap.

Shocked, you pushed him off. However, it persists until you give up trying to push him away. He may need a pillow. You see Chopper running around trying to create new medicine, “Chopper, would you be a dear and grab me a pillow for Zoro?”

Chopper nodded and grabbed a pillow from the infirmary for you to put underneath Zoro’s head, but he lingered and didn’t leave. You turn back to look at him with a smile. “I’m sorry,” he pouts. “I was going to make an alcoholic tonic for him that’s potent enough that he doesn’t drink so much to feel something, instead I made him into a sleeping demon.”

Oh, so that’s the story behind this walking disaster. You laughed and cupped Chopper’s face gently, “It’s okay, we didn’t know he was going to tear the ship apart, you’re working on an antidote, right?” Chopper nodded, “That’s good enough then, keep up the good work, I’m rooting for you.” Fired up, Chopper runs into the infirmary to make an antidote for Zoro.

Even after the pillow was given to Zoro, he still managed to put his head on your lap instead. His sleep-talking tirade continues; everything he says is about you and for you. Maybe you haunt his dreams. “I didn’t know I haunt your dreams,” you grinned, talking to the sleeping swordsman like he was going to respond to you.

Zoro didn’t respond. Why would he? He’s asleep. You continued to listen to him talk, sometimes, it was to tease you about the small things you did in life. Sometimes, it’s to tell you to be careful. Sometimes, the line between crewmate was blurry when he spoke; it warmed your heart, even if he didn’t mean it.

“He’s gotten comfy there.” You tilt your head back to see Nami talk. You smile at her as she sits beneath the umbrella for better shading.

“You think?” Nami nodded, pointing out that he usually doesn’t talk about one person on the crew; he typically discusses fighting or training techniques. “Maybe I’m special,” you tease.

“Maybe you are, have you seen the way he looks at you sometimes?” You hummed at Nami’s words, you don’t pay attention because someone is always on fire on the ship. “Or how, when you talk, he stops training completely just to listen to what you say?” You did notice that, but you thought he was just nosy. “Or how he even offers to share his booze with you?”

“Maybe you’re thinking too much into this, I would rather hear it from him,” you smiled. Nami gave you a look of defeat and shrugged.

“I made it! It’s potent too!” Chopper calls out, running over to you with a small blue vial of liquid. It looks suspicious because it was still bubbling. “We just have to feed it to him.” Chopper says, trying to pour some in his mouth, but it just rolls back out. “I didn’t think that far.”

“Here, I got it,” you smiled, taking the vial in your hand. If what Nami said was true, then you should test the theory. He is rather attractive, and you couldn’t know you hadn’t thought about it on several occasions. You see Sanji jump out in joy to see the three girls on the ship, all sitting outside, as he goes back in to retrieve some refreshments. You pour the liquid in your mouth, and it tastes a little spicy. As the cook came out with refreshments, all color was drained from his face as if someone had told him a friend of his had died. He watched you kiss the sleeping swordsman, but didn’t notice that you were giving him the liquid by mouth.

As you’re about to pull away, Zoro pulls you back onto him, deepening the kiss. Too shocked to move, you let him. You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, and you see Zoro open his eyes. He gets flustered, but you weren’t going to let him go that easily. Pulling him into another kiss boldly, the two of you break away when Nami cheers and claps that the two of you seemingly confessed, and Sanji had grown fungus in the corner of the ship.

“You have something to tell me, sleep demon swordsman?” You tease, straddling his waist as he cups your face.

He brings you down to kiss again before whispering, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I don’t know when I started paying attention, but I’ve been thinking about you, about us. I want us to be an item.” He eyes you, seeing you wait for him to continue. He grunts, a pink dusts across his features, “Please be mine? I want to be exclusive.”

You laughed, kissing him back softly. “Sorry, Sanji,” you said, looking up from the swordsman to the cook. A soft smile graces your features, “I’m going to be exclusive with the swordsman, someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t get lost.” You glanced down at the swordsman with a brighter smile, “I would love to.”

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

#zoro roronoa x reader #one piece roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro x you #one piece x female reader #one piece x you #one piece x reader #op x female reader #op x you #op x reader #zoro roronoa x you #roronoa zoro

93 notes · View notes

enjakey · 5 hours ago

Text

"now I need a cigarette 🚬 (I don’t smoke)" girl lemme join you, writing this is destroying me even I didn't realise it was gonna be this sad.

It killed me to kill Jay lemme tell you that 😭😭😭 And Jake... really is an asshole. The more i wrote these chapters the more i was like... okay maybe jake doesn't deserve redemption BUT IT'S JAKE.

Everyone's a big fan of heeseung and y/n pairing huh.

"The amount of crying Y/N has done is probably enough to fill all the pools in Santorini" no for real- my heart goes out to her may she be happy (she will be, author's honour).

"(Jake) needs to grovel for as much as there are pools in Santorini (idc if she stole your child)" i literally cackled

"Please let there be happiness now because all this angst is genuinely hurting me" 😀😀😀😀😀

"Poor Jay and Y/N’s parents. I could never imagine what it feels like to actually lose a child and then your second one disappears without a trace" FOR REAL GOD BLESS THEM MAN.

"fuck ass David running his mouth like he gets paid to do it and ruining everyone’s day. Helen, Queen, tell your husband that your love language is physical touch and just swing at him one day." CACKLEDDDDDDDD man ya'll are so funny. i love reading everyone's reactions.

"So so so excited for the upcoming chapters, I’m hooked. I’m a fan. Can’t believe the universe put this at my doorstep 🙏🏼 #blessed

Love you, keep writing. I’m gonna read all of it." STOPPPPPPPPPPP had me tering up i can't wait for you to read the final 3 chapters. epilogue (final chapter) will be happy hopefully i'm still debating how to write it.

The next chapter will mostly come out tomorrow i'm tryna finish it asap. It's making me sad that this series is coming to an edn so fast and soon. I literally flew threw it- this is what years of daydreaming about it does ig.

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

THE CERTAIN ROMANCE OF WINGS AND WAR- series masterlist

PAIRING: [DAD!JAKE SIM x FEM!READER]!MAFIA AU

SETTING: Seoul, Korea → Santorini, Greece

TW/N: cheating, blood, drugs, mentions of sex, alcohol, lots of cussing, mentions of murder, guns, therapy, psychological trauma, abandoning children, adoption care, estranged families, physical abuse, anger issues, characters make terrible decisions, some characters have sexual relations but not romantic, mentions of a lot of fucking each other over (betrayal), can't trust anyone.

In a world where people grow wings when they’re in love, all anyone seemed to want is to find their soulmate.

Jake thought he’d found his perfect love. The wings on his back said so. But the woman he trusted disappeared overnight, leaving nothing but betrayal in her wake. For her, love was just a tactic. Business was the only game she played.

Raised by a powerful mafia family, Jake eventually took the reins of the empire when their father stepped down. Sunghoon stood as his right hand, while Jungwon and Niki- inseparable and unflinching- were the muscle that held their world together.

By their side was Y/N and her family- allies bound not just by loyalty, but legacy. Her father had built the syndicate with theirs, and the two families rose together.

Their world seemed untouchable- until it wasn’t.

Jake’s misplaced trust would spark a war no one saw coming. And when it led to the death of Y/N’s brother, Jay, the fallout shattered everything. Love had brought wings. But betrayal would leave scars that followed them for years- across cities, across borders, across time.

Oh… and Jake had a daughter now.

Chapter breakdown

Prologue 0; the beginning of the end

PART ONE; five years later

Chapter 1; prolonged interlude

Chapter 2; a long lost friend

Chapter 3; abominable rendezvous

Chapter 4; to run or not to run

PART TWO; six months later

Chapter 5; abscond

Chapter 6; redamancy

Chapter 7; cheers to a new beginning

Chapter 8; an elaborate ruse

Epilogue 9; the cherry on top

Character breakdown

The first mafia family (the adopted children of David and Helen)

Jake Sim

Park Sunghoon

Yang Jungwon

Niki

The second mafia family (the children of Martin and Nayna)

Y/N

Jay Park

Additional characters

Emily- Jake’s ex

Erwin- Emily’s twin

Heeseung- Y/N’s fwb

Alice- Jungwon’s girlfriend

Chelsea- Jay’s soulmate

Sophie- Niki’s fwb

Natalie- Sunghoon’s estranged sister

Athera- Jungwon’s 2nd love interest

Sunoo- Y/N’s coworker

#tcrowaw

228 notes · View notes

sunsetmade · 2 days ago

Note

could i please request #7, bucky barnes, fluff, roommates to lovers? thank you sm!

Enjoy!!

The Roommate Clause

Roommate! Bucky Barnes x Roommate! Reader

Prompt: “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”

She couldn’t quite pinpoint when it all started—when the stolen glances had turned into lingering stares, when the flutter in her chest became a constant around him. Maybe it was the way their eyes would meet unexpectedly and dart away just as fast, or how her breath would catch when he stood a little too close. Maybe it was how he’d smile—just for her—and it would warm her cheeks like sunlight through a windowpane.

But she remembered the day it began. The day he arrived.

Sam had called her out of the blue, his voice rushed and full of barely restrained urgency. He needed a favor, just for a few days, something about a high-priority mission. “Let Bucky crash at your place?” he asked—more like begged. “It’s just temporary. You’ll hardly notice he’s there.” She had barely hesitated. As a fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, she’d read the reports, seen the classified files—James Buchanan Barnes was practically a legend. A ghost of war stories and whispered traumatic missions, someone you didn’t just meet. She’d heard of him often enough in briefings, always referred to with a strange reverence and an edge of wariness. But never had she expected him to end up on her doorstep.

Sam’s final words before hanging up had made her frown, though. “Good luck with old man grumpy,” he’d said with a laugh. At the time, she hadn’t really understood what he meant.

There he stood, awkward and uncertain, wearing a worn backpack slung over one shoulder like a soldier who’d been traveling too long without rest. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between hesitant and hopeful, and her heart flipped at the sight. He was taller than she’d imagined—easily a foot over her head—and broader, too. His dark hair was cropped short, which only drew more attention to the sharp cut of his jaw and the stubble dusting his cheeks. And his eyes… those eyes looked like they’d seen too much.

Her gaze dipped before she could stop herself. His plain T-shirt clung to his chest and arms, the soft fabric stretched tight over well-defined biceps. The faintest outline of abs pressed through the cotton, and heat bloomed across her face. He cleared his throat gently, and she blinked hard, forcing her thoughts back into line.

“Hi! You must be Bucky,” she said quickly, stepping aside to let him in. “Sam told me about you. Come on in.”

He gave a small nod and a polite smile that barely touched his eyes. “I promise I’m not as bad as Sam made me sound,” he said, voice low and almost shy, like he hadn’t used it much lately.

It surprised her—how soft he sounded, like he was afraid to speak too loudly, as if the world might snap if he did.

She chuckled, easing the tension in the air. “Don’t worry. I stopped taking Sam seriously a long time ago.”

His mouth tugged into a fuller smile then, one that made something flutter in her chest. And for a brief second, she wondered what exactly she’d agreed to.

Because this—this man standing quietly in her doorway, looking out of place and a little lost—didn’t feel like just a houseguest.

He already felt like something more.

But even after the mission wrapped up and the danger had passed, Bucky didn’t leave.

He lingered—quietly, almost guiltily—as if he was waiting for her to gently nudge him toward the door. For the first couple of days, he kept his backpack half-packed, like he didn’t want to get too comfortable. He’d mutter things like, “I’ll start looking for a place tomorrow,” or “Didn’t mean to overstay, I’ll be out of your hair soon,” every time he caught her making coffee or folding laundry nearby.

But she would just roll her eyes, hiding her growing fondness behind a teasing smile. Until one morning, when his words finally hit a little too close.

“I’ll head out soon,” he said softly as she handed him a mug of coffee, fingers brushing lightly against his. “Didn’t mean to take up space that isn’t mine.”

She froze mid-sip, her brows drawing together. “You don’t have to go,” she said, the words slipping out faster than she meant them to. “I mean—I don’t want you to.”

Her voice was quiet, almost shy, and when he looked up at her, her gaze had already darted away, cheeks turning the softest shade of pink.

Bucky blinked, heart giving a small, traitorous thud in his chest. She didn’t want him to go. She wanted him there.

It took him a second to process that—long enough for her to fidget and try to backtrack, rambling slightly under her breath. “I just mean… it’s been nice having you around. I’ve gotten used to it. To you. The dishes aren’t even piling up anymore—so, you know… that’s something.”

His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. One that reached his eyes. “So I’m useful, huh?” he teased, nudging her shoulder with his.

She laughed, the sound soft and warm, like honey on a cold morning. “I didn’t say that,” she said with mock seriousness, but she was grinning too.

Bucky watched her for a moment, heart still racing, then gave a small, almost bashful nod. “Then I’ll stay. If you really don’t mind.”

Her eyes finally met his again, and this time, she didn’t look away. “I don’t mind,” she said, voice softer than before. “I like having you here.”

There was a beat of silence—comfortable, full of something new and unspoken blooming in the quiet between them.

Bucky cleared his throat and looked down at his coffee like it might help settle the warmth rising in his chest. “Then I guess I’ll unpack the rest of my stuff,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting.

“Only if you do your share of the dishes,” she quipped, already walking away.

But her smile stayed with him. And for the first time in a long, long while… home didn’t feel so far away.

⸻

Weeks turned into a month, and then a few more—until somewhere along the line, time stopped feeling temporary. What was supposed to be a short stay had quietly, effortlessly grown into something permanent. Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it.

She and Bucky had become… good friends. At least, that’s what they told themselves.

Their bond had deepened in the most ordinary ways. Almost every night, unless he was called away on a mission, they were together. They filled the quiet evenings with anything and everything—movies, takeout, long talks about nothing and everything, and the kind of shared silence that didn’t feel awkward. It felt safe.

At first, Bucky had been hesitant. Reserved. Like he was still figuring out how to live in a world that moved too fast and didn’t wait for anyone to catch up. He’d kept to himself, spending long hours in the guest room with the door half-closed, speaking in short answers and polite nods. But she refused to let him fade into the background.

One Friday night, she’d marched into his room, grabbed his arm, and dragged him to the couch without giving him a choice. “You’re watching The Princess Bride with me,” she announced like it was a mission briefing.

He’d blinked, bewildered. “Is that… a war movie?”

She grinned. “Not even close. But there is sword fighting.”

After that, it became their tradition. Every Friday night, no matter what kind of week they’d had, they’d curl up on the couch and watch a movie. He’d sit stiffly at first, arms crossed, but by the end, he’d always be leaning just a little closer to her—sometimes laughing, sometimes grumbling about “plot holes,” but always there. And afterward, they’d sit and talk about it, their voices low and comfortable in the quiet of the living room.

The kitchen became their second haven.

She had always cooked dinner alone—something simple, something grounding—but before she knew it, Bucky started joining in. First it was just handing her a utensil, or silently retrieving ingredients from the fridge. Then it turned into hovering behind her, quietly asking, “Need help with that?” while reaching over her shoulder.

It flustered her more than she wanted to admit.

Especially when he started standing closer. His presence was a warm shadow against her back, calm and solid. His vibranium palm would settle gently on her lower back under the pretense of reaching past her—light, steady, and maddeningly casual.

He didn’t seem to notice the way her breath hitched every time.

Or maybe he did.

Because lately, he’d been getting bolder. That metal hand lingered longer. He’d brush hair out of her face while she stirred a pot, or lean down to murmur something near her ear—so close she could feel the heat of his breath along her neck.

And still, they danced around it—whatever this was between them. Friends, yes. But there was more in the way they looked at each other. In the small touches, the quiet laughs, the way they gravitated toward one another without even thinking.

Neither of them had said it yet.

But it was there.

Growing stronger by the day.

And then there were the nights they never really talked about once the sun came up.

The unspoken ones—the ones stitched into silence and half-lit shadows. The nights when Bucky’s mind turned against him, when old memories clawed their way into his dreams and refused to let go.

The first time it happened, the house was still and dark, save for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the quiet creaks of settling walls. Bucky had woken up breathless, sweat clinging to his skin, heart pounding like a war drum. His sheets were tangled, fists clenched so tight it hurt, and his chest ached from the echo of screams that weren’t real anymore.

He’d paced the length of the guest room for what felt like hours, waging a silent war with himself.

You’re fine. You’ve been through worse. You don’t need anyone. You don’t deserve—

But the need wouldn’t go away. That aching, hollow pull to be near her. Just know she was there. Just breathe near someone who made him feel human.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked down the hall and stopped in front of her bedroom door.

His fist hovered an inch from the wood.

Don’t. You’ll wake her up. She deserves to sleep. You’re just being weak again.

He exhaled slowly and started to turn away—when the door creaked open from the inside.

“Buck…” she whispered, barely audible, her voice thick with sleep and concern.

His breath caught in his throat. She stood there in the dim hallway light, eyes wide and soft, like she already knew. Her hair was a little messy, a sleepy halo framing her face, and she was wearing tiny sleep shorts and a simple tank top that left little to the imagination. Bucky immediately looked away, jaw tight.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, almost ashamed. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she said gently. “I… I was up.”

A lie, maybe. But a kind one. One he didn’t question.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly with his metal hand, avoiding her gaze. He didn’t say the words—not I had a nightmare, not I need you, not please—but he didn’t have to.

Because she already understood.

Without hesitation, she stepped aside, reached for his hand, and tugged him inside.

She guided him to her bed with a tenderness that made his throat tighten. No questions. No pity. Just quiet understanding. She pulled back the covers and nodded toward the empty space beside her, waiting until he sank onto the mattress.

For a moment, he sat there stiffly, unsure, his shoulders tense and his breaths shallow. Then he felt her hand brush against his, fingers slipping gently between his—warm, grounding, real.

“You’re safe,” she said quietly, like a promise just for him. “I’ve got you.”

Something in him cracked open at that. He let out a slow, shaking breath, and lay down beside her. She shifted just close enough that he could feel her warmth, but not so close that he’d feel trapped. She always knew the balance.

And without another word, her hand found his—flesh and metal—and held it like she’d been waiting to all along.

That night, he slept.

And in the morning, neither of them mentioned it. They never did.

⸻

The soft jiggle of the front doorknob pulled her from sleep.

Her eyes blinked open slowly, adjusting to the faint glow of the hallway light that poured in as the door creaked open. She was curled up on the couch, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, the TV long since gone quiet and the room dim in the soft hush of midnight.

Then he stepped in.

Bucky.

She shifted, heart lurching in her chest as her tired eyes focused on him. He looked… wrecked. Exhausted in a way that went deeper than the cuts on his cheek or the dried blood on his temple. His posture was heavy, slumped from days without proper rest, and the bags under his eyes were dark and hollow. But he was here.

Finally here.

It had been days since he left for the mission—his first extended one since moving in with her. And the apartment had felt different without him. Too quiet. Too still. She hadn’t realized how much noise he brought into her world until it was gone—the teasing jabs in the kitchen, the low hum of his voice when he read late at night, the occasional sound of him talking in his sleep through the wall.

She’d missed it all. Missed him.

“Buck,” she whispered, sitting up fully now, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth before she could stop it.

He flinched, clearly not expecting to hear a voice. His eyes darted to the couch and softened the moment they landed on her.

He let out a breathy chuckle, voice rough with exhaustion. “Jesus, you scared me.”

She beamed, too relieved to hide it. “Sorry. I was just… resting. Couldn’t sleep.”

His gaze lingered on her—wrapped in fuzzy blankets, hair a little messy, face warm with sleep—and something about it made his chest ache. The tension in his shoulders eased just slightly as he dropped his duffel bag near the door.

“Hi, doll,” he murmured, almost shyly.

She hadn’t heard him call her that in days, and the sound made her stomach flip.

Bucky stepped farther into the room, and she finally caught a proper look at him. His jacket was dusty, torn at the shoulder, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in at least a day.

“What are you doing up?” he asked gently, brow furrowed as he stopped a few feet in front of her.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, truth spilling from her lips before she had a chance to second-guess it. “It just… felt weird without you here.”

The words hung in the air, vulnerable and raw, and for a second, she almost regretted them. But she didn’t take them back.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to her. His expression faltered, like her confession had landed harder than either of them expected. His shoulders stiffened slightly, then fell as he exhaled. He reached up to rub the back of his neck with his vibranium hand, the metal catching a soft glint of light, and looked away like he needed a second to collect himself.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone that long,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, quieter. “Things got messy.”

“I figured.” Her voice softened instinctively, her eyes following the faint scrapes and bruises that lined his cheekbone and jaw. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, but the motion was more of a tired tilt than a true answer. “Just tired. Beat up. Nothing new.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was full—thick with the weight of everything they hadn’t said out loud yet. It pulsed between them like a held breath.

She shifted beneath the blankets, one slipping off her shoulder as she moved. Reaching out, she gently patted the cushion beside her, offering him a small, hesitant smile. “Sit for a second. I’ll get you some water or something—”

But he was already moving.

Without a word, Bucky sank down beside her, like his body had made the decision for him.

And he sat close. Close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off him, could catch the faint scent of rain, sweat, metal, and something earthy—something him. It made her pulse quicken.

For a while, neither of them spoke. He leaned back against the couch with a sigh that sounded almost too deep, like he hadn’t truly breathed in days. She watched him from the corner of her eye—his lashes casting faint shadows on his cheeks, jaw tense like he was still trying to stay braced for something, and his hands resting in his lap, fingers flexing every so often like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

She hesitated for just a moment before shifting again, the couch cushions dipping slightly under her weight. Inch by inch, she inched closer to him, the quiet between them stretching but never breaking. Then, slowly—carefully—she leaned in and let her head come to rest on his shoulder.

Bucky went completely still.

His breath caught in his chest, muscles tensing beneath her like he wasn’t expecting the contact. Like he didn’t quite know what to do with the sudden warmth of her body so close to his. For a second, he didn’t move at all.

But then he exhaled—soft and long—and his shoulders relaxed, the tension melting away from his frame as if her touch had flipped some invisible switch inside him.

And after that, it was easy.

He tilted his head just slightly, enough that his cheek brushed the top of her hair. His arm didn’t move, didn’t wrap around her or pull her closer, but it didn’t have to. Her presence was grounding. Warm. Familiar. The kind of comfort he didn’t know he needed until she gave it without asking for anything in return.

Outside, the rain tapped lightly against the windows, a quiet rhythm that filled the background. The room felt small in the best way—soft light, worn blankets, and the gentle weight of someone choosing to lean on him, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

His eyes fluttered closed.

She didn’t speak, and neither did he. They just sat there, shoulder to shoulder, the quiet settling around them like a blanket of its own. And for the first time in days, maybe weeks, Bucky felt something close to peace.

He didn’t know what they were yet.

But in that moment, he didn’t care.

“I missed this,” Bucky said suddenly, his voice so quiet it nearly got lost in the hush of the room. “Being here.”

Her heart stuttered, a beat too fast, like it had been waiting to hear him say those words.

“I missed you,” he added after a pause, softer this time—like it was the safest version of the truth he could allow himself to say.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she moved gently, her fingers pulling the blanket back over his lap, a small gesture, careful and intimate. Her head still resting comfortably on his arm.

“I missed you too,” she whispered, barely above a breath.

Neither of them spoke after that. The silence that settled between them wasn’t awkward or uncertain. It felt full. Honest. Like everything they were too scared to say had already been understood.

Bucky let himself lean back into the couch, shoulders sagging with quiet exhaustion. She was still right there beside him, close enough to feel. The scent of her shampoo mixed with the rain lingering on his clothes, and something about it made his chest ache.

Then, slowly, she shifted again—nestling her head into him even further until she rested against his warm chest.

His whole body tensed, just for a second, his breath catching in his throat. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe too loud in case it startled her or ruined the moment. But then she sighed—soft, content—and something in him unraveled.

So he stayed perfectly still, letting the weight of her head settle against him, grounding him in a way nothing else had in a long time.

Minutes passed like that. The storm outside faded into a dull murmur against the windows. The soft hum of the heater filled the room, and he could feel the warmth of her seeping through the fabric of his shirt, a comforting presence that made it harder and harder to keep his guard up.

Eventually, her breathing deepened, slow and even, and her hand slipped from her lap, fingers loosely brushing against his. He looked down, half expecting her to pull away.

But she didn’t.

She stayed close, her body warm against his side, completely still except for the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

He turned his head slightly, glancing at her. Her eyes were closed, lips parted slightly in sleep—or what looked like sleep. Peaceful. Soft. Vulnerable in a way that made his throat tighten.

And before he could stop himself, before logic or fear could pull him back, he slid his arm around her waist pulling her in closer and leaned just the tiniest bit and whispered it:

“I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you.”

The words left Bucky’s mouth in a breathless murmur, barely louder than the sound of rain tapping against the windows. So soft, so raw, it almost didn’t feel real.

But it was.

His heart thudded painfully in his chest the moment the confession slipped free, like it had been caged there for far too long and finally clawed its way out.

For a second, he thought the moment passed unnoticed.

Then she stirred.

Not sharply—just the faintest shift. Her head pressed in closer to his chest, nuzzling into him like she was chasing the warmth in her sleep. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, content and steady, and her fingers twitched lightly where they brushed against his hand.

His breath caught.

Slowly, Bucky looked down at her, panic flickering beneath the surface of his tired features. His gaze swept over her face—her lashes still resting against her cheeks, lips slightly parted, expression calm. Peaceful.

She looked asleep.

But his heart didn’t get the memo. It pounded like a drum against his ribs, loud and unforgiving, as if she might somehow hear it and read everything he hadn’t said out loud.

He swallowed hard, every muscle in his body taut with uncertainty, then let his head tip back against the couch cushion with a slow, quiet exhale. The ceiling above him blurred slightly in the low light, and he stared at it like it might offer answers he was too afraid to ask for.

He didn’t know what tomorrow would look like.

Didn’t know if she’d heard him. Or if she’d pretend she didn’t. Didn’t know if this quiet moment between them was fleeting—or the beginning of something deeper, something neither of them had dared name yet.

But for now… she was here.

Pressed into his side, warm and trusting. Breathing evenly, like she felt safe with him. Like she wanted to be there.

And that was enough.

However, what he didn’t see—what he couldn’t see—was the soft curve of her lips, hidden in the safety of his chest.

Because after he looked away…

She smiled.

Because she’d heard everything.

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #sunsetmade #marvel one shot

115 notes · View notes

wetorwild · 3 days ago

Note

Hellow! Hoseok one shot. Husband wife trope. Age gap..maybe.. and.. idk rich hoseok (no idol pls) whose wife runs a book/flower shop which loses 50k every month?🤭

Devoted Care

warnings - age gap (reader 25, Hoseok is mid thirties),Hoseok loves her so much, sickly inlove, couple still in the honeymoon phase, Hoseok uses his money to help reader without her knowing, alluded to smut/intimacy,reader is not financially smart, reader loses alot of money

The streets of Gangnam were empty in the early hours into the night, the streetlights beginning to creep out its shades. Hoseok's hand was wrapped tightly around the wheel, his lap spread in a layed back manner. The sleek car rushes down the sleek streets, his eyes focused ahead with only one destination in mind. You. He knows you had been having a hard time with the shop, the shop you had just opened almost a year ago. He remembers the twinkle in your eyes when you were being shown around it by the agent. He rhink about that look on your face regularly.

Of how beautiful you looked.

It makes him reminisce about how you guys met. How your parents were planning on selling dome land to him, and there you were. Tucked away in the corner, with his interest piqued he had later questioned about you. That's how he learned of you coming home from college on holiday, to find your parents selling land that had been in your generations, and for the life of you, you couldn't just understand why. Although you gave him the cold shoulder in a matter of one year, you had a heavy rock on your ring finger. And on tour wedding day he promised to take care of you and he meant that.

Truly

Even if that meant going through hundreds of apartments to find the one you truly loved, he was right behind you with his black card ready. Or buying you a shop in the middle of the city once he saw you were getting bored around the house. He remembered you once telling him about your passion of gardening, but most important flowers. And how you loved to plant them and watched them grow into something beautiful, knowing you did that. So once he had bought that new shop and surprised you ln you anniversary, it was safe to say you were ecstatic. If the look on your face didn't show that, what you did to him all night surely did.

But you were never really a sales woman. The passion was there but the technique of selling, definitely wasn't. And that's how he had arrived to pick you up after you were supposed to have closed up. Instead he saw the lights still on amd you slumped over the front desk crying. His eyebrows hunched forward in both clncern and curiosity, what had happened? He gently knocked on the glass to get your attention, you face rose tear soaked cheeks and red eyes. You slowly went to open it and once he was inside and locked it behind him.

He attacked you with questions but gently, with him pulling your head on his shoulder.

"Were you robbed?"

"Was it a rude customer?"

"Were you tired?"

The questions were bouncing off inside your head, overwhelmed you shook your head and pushed a piece of paper into his hand. With the other one still around you, he took it and read it, it looked like your financial statement for the business. He immediately assumed it was happy tears, had you finally seen how good your business was? How the small problem at the start of sales was only temporary? That was until he was the negative cash flow. Of worth $50,000. His eyes widened un shock, he knew there was some problems, but gosh. He didn't even know you could spend that much money on spending flowers.

But quickly recovering from the shock knowing you were watching him, he looked up to be met with such sad eyes. "Baby its okay, every business starts out slow" he knew ge was lying that no business should be losing that much. That fast. But this was about comforting you. But you saw right through it, you shook your head "but that much? And with the lack of sales each day, maybe I should quit while I see the signs." Ypu say as you wipe your cheeks, but Hoseok was having none of that.

"No, no, no. You love flowers, you love running this shop. And what do I say about running a business," your face now in his hands as he stares at you. "It always works out if you enjoy it" you recite, as Hoseok sniles back at you and puts your head back into his chest, as he soothes you. That night he took care of you running you a bath, spending in bed with you and watching your favourite movie as you fell asleep in each others arms. He knew that statement had upset you, and he knew just the thing to do.

Hoseok was hunched over his desk as ge looked through files, the sunlight from the tall windows seep into the room. He knock kn the door snaps him put of it he looks up to see his secretary. "Mrs Jung is here to see you Sir" he nods giving the greenlight for you to be sent up. A few moments pass until he hears the excited clicking of heels coming straight to his office, the door swings open and a smile is already on his face. You skip over to him and settle on his lap, as his arms envelope you in an warm embrace. "Guess what" you voice light with flirtation "What?" He plays along.

"I just was 3 major companies want to order from the store to use for their latest campaigns in their stores. Nationwide!" your voice drips with excitement, and Hoseok has the biggest smile on his face. Showing his beautiful heart hspaed smile you love so much, "see didn't I day it would get better" he lightly teases. You laugh slightly before gently kissing him. He kisses you back in an instant showing the joy he had for you in that moment.

His eyes slightly open into the kiss as he looks to his desk, a stack of papers sitting there. The papers detailing how he had negotiated with the biggest companies to use a flower shop he highly recommended, in exchange of his investment and advertisements. He knew this was caused by him, but why ruin your big moment? He discreetly flips it over and under another pile, before gently swiveling his chair to the other side. All that matters is that you were happy and didn't feel like a failure anymore right? Atleast that's what he tells himself as he tries to mask his guilt with your soft lips.

#bts x reader #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts army #bts #bts hobi #bts hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok #hobi x reader #bts jhope #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jhope x y/n #wetorwild

91 notes · View notes

miss--soapy · 3 days ago

Note

HIIII!!

could you give me a quick look at Ashton's backstory and like what he is or who he is and WHAT HOUSE HE IS IN CAUSE IM SO LOST.

and btw I LOVEEEE YOUR STORIES

Hi Hi!

So short but long story of Ashton's current lore below the cut 🙂‍↕️

Before Hogwarts:

So Ashton is American. Specifically from New York. He was adopted along side his older sister Kahli (no relation), from the same orphanage, by two dark witches who fled Scotland to start a family. Ashton's last name is "Maze" while Kahli's last name is "Voxx". They have two different last names because they took them from each of their mothers.

So both Ashton & Kahli lived in isolation but after a while, started to sneak out against their parents wishes and into the city. Eventually, Ashton met a group of kids he called "friends" but in reality they were abusive and manipulative because he was different and as a kid, he had striking eyes which they didn't take to kindly to. They call him ugly and a monster for it. Despite this treatment, Ashton was desperate to make friends so he thought this behavior was "normal". He was a bubbly and aloof kid so they took advantage of this.

Until one day the hatred got too much and they inflicted the scar on his eye. His mothers saved his sight but the scar remained. This moment changed him and he was never the same again. He became angry, selfish, cold & vengeful. He one day seeked out these kids and one by one, in their sleep, took them out. The euphoric rush basically led him to the dark arts which he would find his Mothers' old books on that they kept locked away. He read and studied them for days on end. He soon developed the ability to harness ancient magic.

Eventually he was approached by Professor Fig in one of his nightly outings. Professor Fig could feel that something was special about him and offered to enroll him in Hogwarts as long as he asks his parents for permission. To keep his parents hidden, he states it is just him and his sister and he will return with an answer when he talks to her first. Ashton returns home and states to his parents that he going to Hogwarts regardless if they like it or not. Ashton already heard rumors of a great power there so of course his greed was taking over. Despite their protests, they know they can't stop Ashton so they let him go. Kahli joins him as well out of concern.

During 5th year:

He arrived at Hogwarts, got sorted in Gryffindor after having a mental spat with the sorting hat and the events of the game begins. Through out 5th year, Ashton's only goal was the Repository. Ashton is very independent and takes pride in learning things himself but acknowledges Sebastian's skills in the unforgivable curses which Ashton uses him to learn. Overall he chose to be alone and he didn't care if someone lived or died.

After 5th year (death):

Now fast forward to the end of 5th year and after absorbing the Repository's power, Ashton started to notice changes. He started to get weak. Had frequent headaches and nosebleeds until one day he had a sudden heart attack and died. The power of the Repository was too much for a child to absorb completely so it ate him from the inside out.

He then woke up in a dream state meeting someone named "Rocky Kane". Rocky is one of the embodiments of death and, if she likes them, can recruit freshly passed humans into Reapers. She saw what Ashton was capable of and it's exactly what she needs for a perfect soldier. So she revives him and gives him a second chance at life as a Reaper.

Ashton is now technically a walking corpse with no heartbeat but is still warm to the touch. Rocky can manipulate him in any way she likes for example stopping his physical aging once he reaches 30 which he will continue to live on forever. She can completely take over every aspect of him but she chooses not to because she likes the way he works.

But over all, he can't get hurt, can't get sick and doesn't get affected by magic/potions. He also has immeasurable strength, hearing and the ability to phase to places he recognizes. Almost like apparating. He can also erase memories whether it's partial or full. So for example, a bystander knew someone was in the house but they can't remember his face or voice almost like it was blurred out with an eraser. He can erase their memory in full but Ashton is chaotic and does like a bit of tension and mystery to loom over towns.

He can also sense souls and he will know when someone's time is almost up in which he must carry out his Reaper duties. If he comes into physical contact with a human enough, he can study their souls to the point where he can sense where they are to some extent. Thats how Ashton was able to find Sebastian passed out on a bench.

Also to note that Ashton is filthy rich with the amount of money and stuff he steals from the newly deceased. Or just from people in general lol.

The snakes currently know what he is which Rocky is fine with as long as they don't get in the way of his duties. But obviously if too many people know, it could become a problem. Currently, she has not contacted Ashton ever since that day. He has no guidance or direction on his abilities so he just discovers things as time goes by or via natural instinct.

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

But yeah that's it! Obviously now things have changed with him like how much he deeply cares for the Snakes and his relationship with Seb. But I hope this almost complete run down was enough even if it was long LMAO. I might be missing some stuff or it's kinda a mumble jumble mess so I appologize lol 🫶🏻

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy mc #ashton maze

60 notes · View notes

impactrueno · 2 days ago

Note

Do you think Beetlejuice's dislike towards kindness and sweet gestures has something to do with how overly sweet his mother and Donny can be towards him sometimes?

I think we can deduce that his hatred for baths and being clean in general comes mostly from the fact that his mother has always been so obsessed with cleaning, and that he often gets super jealous when people(mostly Lydia) start paying attention to anyone else that isn't him because Donny has always been the family favourite and he probably feels scared that he's "being replaced". so I'm always left wondering if any other negative traits in his personality could come from his experiences with his family.

Not saying that he HATES it when people are nice, just that she often dislikes it!

I'm probably reading too much into it LMAO sorry xD

Anyway have a wonderful day ^^

do we know donny is the favorite though? 🤔 i guess this could go either way, but whenever donny is upset he shows that he actually knows that people think he's annoying. that always gave me the impression that this might include his family for some reason. it's hard to say because whenever we see donny or BJ's parents, they don't really mention the other...but i get the feeling that if donny were the favorite, their parents would compare BJ to donny. idk. maybe it just never came up during writing. donny as a concept didn't exist yet when their parents were introduced, although they do return in season 4 soooooo idk

sorry i got sidetracked with donny LMAO don't mind all that, i was just musing

but yeah i could see BJ acting that way because of donny. mrs. juice is motherly in a normal way but donny is on another level of corny kindness that's sweet at first but it can get very annoying very fast. he's a non-religious ned flanders. if donny IS the favorite, then it makes sense for BJ to hate his attitude even MORE so he strives to be the complete opposite.

although it's also worth remembering that a lot of his contrarian behavior is just played for laughs and to drive the point home that he comes from a fucked up horror-themed wonderland where even he is considered a freak. he takes pride in being disgusting and horrible, which means he doesn't like being called nice or sweet. he loves all things scary and gross, so naturally he hates cute and clean things and is even terrified of them. it's addams family type of humor (but the addams are definitely more insane than him)

his family to me is fairly standard and not dysfunctional enough to make him develop these type of issues. his mother is obsessive with cleanliness but other than that she's a normal, kind but concerned mother. she's sweet to him but she'll lecture him if needed. his father is more serious and strict and doesn't seem very friendly at all, and all he wants is for this loser to get a real job, but you can tell it comes from a place of love too. and donny is. donny. nothing in the show tells me he seeks approval from his family, if anything he just wants to avoid them as much as possible so he can do his own thing unbothered.

so i think his issues stem from other places.

a key aspect of his personality is that he's a complete attention whore, and negative attention is still attention. he's annoying on purpose. but he also really craves admiration and has a huge ego, and that's where his jealousy issues come in: if he stops being #1 in lydia's eyes it means that the one person who genuinely admires him is admiring someone else, and that's a huge blow to his ego. he never knew that being appreciated felt good until he became friends with lydia, so if that were to stop, he wouldn't be able to handle going back to how he was before. also note that when he actually manages to get other admirers, becomes famous or powerful, he immediately lets that go to his head and lydia becomes an afterthought, because he's already receiving positive attention from other sources. this...toxic ass mf i swear to god it's easy to say "oh i wish i had a friend like bj" but NO YOU DONT TRUST ME LMFAO

anyway he's a jackass. but i'm not sure if his issues with jealousy and affection are abandonment related (this is more musical BJ's trauma) so i would say it has more to do with ego and emotional vulnerability. he's a lot lonelier than he's willing to admit. to compare, musical BJ tells you straight up how lonely he is, because he doesn't want to be abandoned or invisible; toon BJ will just refuse to acknowledge that he's got feelings at all or that he needs anybody, because that would mean showing vulnerability and he's too emotionally stupid to know how to handle that. he's kind of like a little boy in that sense.

characters like him who try to act tougher or meaner than they actually are, or insist that they don't care about anybody, usually do it to cover up insecurities and vulnerabilities. and emotional vulnerability can be terrifying!!

i think vulnerability in general is just one of the worst things that can happen to him; it shows whenever he loses his powers or is rendered useless in some way, he's immediately deflated and defeated and mopey and dramatic and lydia has to drag him around as she tries to fix things. it's one of his weak points.

it's also possible he's just. like that. antisocial behavior like his is often attributed to external causes like a dysfunctional family (which he does not have) or social rejection (which he DID experience in high school when he seemed pretty harmless, just unpopular) but it can also be just your brain being wired that way. or a combination of all of those things. like i said, BJ is considered weird even for neitherworld standards, so maybe that's just how he is. and he fully embraces that, even plays it up even more just for attention.

however ☝️

we do know that he's NOT fully antisocial and that he's capable of caring and showing affection in a (relatively) normal way and his friendship with lydia is proof of that. i say relatively because he shows affection with harmless pranks and scares, but he's able to stomach a hug if it's coming from lydia. note that he never initiates and sometimes doesn't even return the hug, he just simply allows lydia to cling to him because he at the very least understands that it's how she shows affection, so that makes him mellow out. but if anyone else tries to get that close to him he's immediately trying to claw his way out

he doesn't want his few (very few) good deeds acknowledged unless they come with widespread admiration and power. it all comes back to his ego with him. he wants to be rich and famous because it makes him powerful and allows him to receive positive attention without having to sacrifice emotional vulnerability.

anyway don't even worry if you think you're reading too much into it because as you can probably tell by this point, i'm kind of the same sometimes LMAO

#asks #beetleposting #GIGANTIC beetlepost sorry it got long #i genuinely didn't realize i yapped for so long

54 notes · View notes

mangionemuse98 · 3 days ago

Text

UNDER HER SPELL 💎 - L.M (Part 1/2)

Summary: Six months after being acquitted of the high-profile murder of UnitedHealthcare’s CEO, Luigi Mangione is finally breathing again. No longer a headline or a prisoner number, he's rediscovering life and himself, on a lush, no-strings-attached European adventure with a young, beautiful, captivating black billionaire heiress and her high society crew he met on a night out in Cefalù, Sicily. She’s part socialite, part siren, and all mystery but she’s been slowly peeling back his guarded layers ever since.

Now in Paris, their spark explodes into fire during a wild night at Crazy Horse. When she takes the stage during a burlesque show, stripping down to her slip and stockings with her eyes locked on his, something primal awakens in Luigi. The chemistry they've been teasing finally boils over in the back of a black Suburban, where soft touches turn to heated kisses, clothes slip off shoulders, and whispered truths stir something dangerously close to love.

This is where control ends and desire takes over.

Words: 3.9k+

Warnings: NSFW; Oral foreplay (f! nipple sucking); Dry humping/Grinding/lap straddling; Fingering; Dirty talk; Slight choking; Ass smacking; Public seduction/striptease; Slight voyeurism (partition is up); Alcohol use and intoxication; Strong language; Luigi is feral; They are both some real freaky frogs lowkey...

A/N: My first fic, so please go easy on me ya'll! 😭 This fic will be based off the scene from Gossip Girl in Season 1, Episode 7, titled "Victor/Victrola" where Chuck and Blair are at Victrola Burlesque in NYC and she goes on stage and does a seductive dance stripping all the way down to her slip dress and Chuck falls for her immediately right there and loved her new found confidence after breaking up with her boyfriend Nate. This will also be in his POV in first person because I think it'll be interesting to see him navigate this world in his perspective. A lifestyle he has always despised but is lowkey enjoying it...with her.

The theme song for this scene is: Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers but a slowed version found on SoundCloud.

Check out this TikTok and the GG scene to get an idea of the vibe.

Six months.

Six months since I walked out of that courthouse a free man.

My name was in the headlines for a year and a half—“Luigi Mangione, Alleged UnitedHealthcare CEO Murder.” Every time I read the New York Times newspaper with my name in it, I wanted to throw up. But the jury got it right.

“Not Guilty.” On all FUCKING charges.

I remember the moment. The oxygen returned to my lungs, like I'd been underwater since December 9, 2024. I put on a brave face, held my head up high, kept my brain busy, for as long as I could but the minute the verdict was read, I broke down.

I was no more than a prisoner of the state, a casualty of corporate corruption. A man reduced to ink on an indictment and grainy footage on the nightly news. I spent a year and a half locked inside a concrete shoebox at MDC Brooklyn, watching the world flicker by through a sliver of glass they called a window and twisted headlines.

After being released, I went home to Maryland for a while. Spent time with my family, or at least the version of them that still makes sense to me. Tried to remember who I was before everything cracked open.

And then, I left to Cefalù, Sicily.

That’s where I ended up. It’s this quiet, coastal town on the northern edge of the island. The homeland of my family. Being there…felt right. Like I’ve gone backward in time just enough to breathe again.

I rented a house up in the hills, overlooking the sea. It’s nothing extravagant, but the air is clean, the food is better than anything back home, and no one stares at me like I’m the Joker. People here just see a tired young man trying to put his life back together after it being completely torn apart.

I’m okay with that.

Fast forward 6 months to a random night out with two of my old friends from my days at UPenn. I wasn’t supposed to be out that night.

I’d told myself I was laying low—keeping things simple, quiet. But my friends had flown in from Naples and insisted we hit Le Vele which is this open-air nightclub perched right on the rocky edge of the sea. So I said yes. A few drinks, some music, and I’d call it a night.

But then, I saw her.

A captivating, caramel-skinned goddess in a crochet dress, with a laugh loud enough to wake the dead, and eyes that pinned me down like I was prey. Her friends were loud, tipsy, beautiful. NYC high society types with couture bags and casual wealth.

She was standing on a white couch in six-inch heels like she owned gravity. Hair wild and spilling down her back, skin lit up gold under the lights. Her crew surrounded her—glamorous, loud, magnetic.

Bottles popping, sparklers hissing like fireworks in August, bodies moving to some Afrobeats remix of a Beyoncé track. Their whole VIP section felt like the epicenter of the club. Dionysian. Lavish. Loud in the best kind of way. Bottles popping. Girls dancing. The guys pulling girls off the dance floor into their section. Laughter spilling over bass-heavy tracks. It wasn’t even close and their table was the heart of the party.

But her?

She had a different frequency.

Even dancing, even laughing, she didn’t try too hard. Her energy was effortless, not manufactured. Her joy wasn’t for anyone else's camera. And when she laughed, it was real. Not the high-pitched, performative kind. It cracked through the noise like thunder wrapped in silk.

I guess she felt my stare before she saw me. Her eyes flicked in my direction, wide and curious. Caught me dead in the act. For a second, she didn’t move—like maybe she wasn’t sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing.

And then she smiled.

Not big. Just the corner of her mouth pulling up, like a secret blooming. Her eyes flicked away fast, but not fast enough.

The game was on.

We kept doing that for the next half hour. A stolen glance here, a full turn there. She’d vanish behind one of her friends, then suddenly reappear standing at the edge of the VIP rope, drink in hand, head tilted like she was trying to figure me out from across the dark.

I was already moving before I realized it.

“Come on,” I said to my friends, downing the rest of my beer. “We’re going over.”

“You sure?” he raised an eyebrow. “You don’t usually—”

“Just come.”

As we walked over, I caught the slight shift in her expression. Not surprise—something closer to curiosity. As we headed toward their section, their security clocked us immediately. But before I could even say a word, she turned around from the couch and said to them, “They’re good. Let ’em in.”

He stepped aside and let us through.

I walked up first, nodded. “Hey. I’m Luigi.”

“I know,” she said with a little laugh, then stuck out her hand. “(Y/N). Nice to meet you.”

Her name came out like silk, like something expensive you’d kill to feel between your fingers. And she wasn’t like anyone else I’d met since I got out. Real, kind, wild in the best way. Sweet as hell with a sharp tongue when she needed it.

The kind of girl who makes you forget everything bad that ever happened to you.

We shook hands, but it felt like more than that. Felt like we’d skipped a few steps already.

Her friends were all around us, loud and warm, pulling us into their orbit. We started talking. Just talking. Laughter spilling into clinks of glasses and bass drops.

They were sharp. Lawyers, creatives, tech people. The kind of women and men who either came from old money or made their own money and didn’t apologize for it. They wore their opulence like art. I believe one of them is even a descendent of the legendary old New York family, The Astors.

They didn’t push when we were talking. Just raised a glass, toasted to new chapters. The vibe shifted from stranger-to-stranger to something easier, like we’d known each other in another life. But even in the sea of designer bags, Rolex watches, and thousand-dollar heels, (Y/N) stood out.

Not because she was louder, but because she wasn’t.

There was something grounded about her. The way she listened. The way she nodded slowly when I talked about Sicily and my grandfather. She asked questions, but didn’t pry. She looked me in the eyes when I answered.

Her eye contact…insane. Would make any man fold instantly. The worst part about it is that she’s not even consciously aware that she’s doing it. A superpower that I myself have not mastered fully.

And her eyes…God, there was depth in them. Like she’d been through storms and come out quieter, not harder. Like she’d already figured out what mattered.

I leaned in closer at one point, just to catch her scent—floral, like jasmine and something warmer underneath.

“This place,” she said softly, almost to herself, “feels like it doesn’t care about who you were before.”

I stared at her for a beat too long. “Yeah,”

I said. “That’s why I came.”

Her lips parted slightly, but before she could speak, her British bestie interrupted with a cheer, holding up her phone.

“We’re hitting Mykonos next week. Y’all should come!”

My boys laughed, already in. I just looked at (Y/N).

She tilted her head. “You ever been?”

“Once,” I said. “But I was a different person then.”

“Well,” she smiled, “maybe you should see it through these eyes instead.”

And just like that, I knew the night was changing me. That something had shifted. The air, the moment, her.

I came to Sicily to disappear.

But maybe I was starting to arrive.

So here I am. Six cities later. Still following her around like a lost puppy.

Tonight? We’re in Paris. The City of Light. The city of contradictions—of luxury and filth, of sinners in silk, of holy desire.

Tonight, it’s the latter.

We end up at Crazy Horse Paris, a cabaret and strip club known for their talented performers and wild strips shows.

The room pulses. Strobe and red wash the air as girls in corsets and feathers slink across the stage in choreographed seduction. One of her friends named Seth, some hedge fund heir with a jawline like a guillotine, had flashed a hundred-dollar bill at the hostess and bought us the best table in the house. Parisian money means old, but her crew is that new money confidence. Irreverent. American. Dripping in couture, fuck-you charm, and multi-generational wealth.

And yet she…she’s not like them.

She’s soft where they’re slick. Laughs full where theirs are thin. Real in a way they perform.

We were escorted to the front. Center table. Velvet rope section. All eyes on us.

The stage lit up. Corsets. Feathers. Champagne. The place was sexy, velvet-soaked and intimate. Her laugh rang over the music, low and a little wicked.

I lean back against the velvet banquette of Crazy Horse, my palm wrapped around a coupe of vintage Dom Pérignon that I didn’t order, and my eyes locked on the only thing in this room that doesn’t blur: her.

She's in the middle of the booth with her long legs crossed, golden skin glowing under the flicker of the stage lights, holding her glass of champagne like it’s a scepter.

“You know,” she says, sipping slow and sweet, her lip gloss leaving a ghost of a kiss on the rim, “I’ve got moves.”

I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth tugging smug. “Oh yeah?”

Her eyes glint. “Yeah…you don’t think I’d go up there?”

I take a sip of my drink and let it linger on my tongue. Vintage, dry, crisp. “Oh, I know you won’t,” with a smirk.

She scoffs. Chuckles. Then stands.

“Watch this,” after she chugs her glasses and sits it down with an aggressive clink.

I blink once. Watching her strut toward the stage. I look toward her friends because there’s no way she’s serious. The table erupts in whoops and gasps as she tosses her purse at one of her girls and saunters toward the stage.

The dancers welcome her like a long-lost sister, curling around her like smoke, surrounded by feathered fans, hands brushing her hips, their movements slowing to accommodate her rhythm. The stage lights swell to a golden hue, and the DJ blends seamlessly into a slowed, instrumental version of Under Your Spell by Snow Strippers.

It’s surreal. It’s fucking cinematic.

She stood there for a beat, soaking it all in—Paris, the music, the history of every woman who ever reclaimed herself on that stage.

Then she began to move.

The slip of her dress unzipped with a whisper and a sway of her hips. She peeled it down slow, eyes locked on mine like she wanted to ruin me. Every inch she revealed—brown skin glistening under cabaret lights, black garter gripping her thigh, silk stockings wrapping her legs, felt like a punishment.

Like penance for a crime I didn’t commit. She was grace, destruction, and salvation all at once. And she owns every second.

I couldn’t move.

She moves like sin baptized in silk.

Eyes locked on mine.

Her slip dress shimmers as she rolls her hips, sliding her hands over the curve of her thighs. She crouches low, slow, like honey dripping off a spoon, and comes back up with a smirk that belongs on stained glass—if stained glass had a thing for sinners. She’s all curves and confidence and that dangerous combination of elegance and chaos that makes sane men spiral.

I hear someone behind me murmur, “Who is that pretty girl?”

My glass is still raised mid-sip, but my voice cuts through the haze with ease.

“I have no idea.”

And God, I meant it. The version of her I knew. The sweet, soft-spoken, always the one to check on everyone else, had melted into this new creature. Untouchable. Electric. She wasn’t performing. She was claiming. Letting her freak side out like she'd kept it in a vault only I had the key to.

A smile curls across my face. The kind that scares judges and seduces ghosts. The kind that says I’ve been to hell and came back horny.

She’s dancing for everyone, but she’s looking at me. And for the first time in years, I feel wanted for something that has nothing to do with strategy or survival. I feel seen.

Desired.

Worshipped.

And utterly undone.

She struts back to the table, silk clinging to her body, her original dress now draped over her shoulder like a trophy. Black Louboutin So Kates click across the floor like a war drum. She's still in her knee-high stockings and garter. Big, curly hair wild. Eyes mischievous.

She snatched the champagne from my hand, downed it like it was water, and leaned in, lips glistening. “Told you.” She smirks.

I didn’t even try to pretend I wasn’t gagged. I swallow the dryness in my throat. “You did.”

The show ends. The bill is handled in a flurry of black cards and bilingual flirtation.

Our group stumbles out of the club giggling like deviant teenagers, high on decadence and Dom, onto the wet cobblestone of Rue de Ponthieu in a beautiful, drunk, giggling mess. She held my hand, practically naked still—just her silk slip and those deadly heels, her dress still slung over one shoulder like it meant nothing. And maybe it didn’t. Not compared to the way her body swayed with every step, her hips hypnotic under that slip, those stockings kissing her thighs just right.

I let my gaze linger. Let myself be a man. Let my Dom Perignon, clouded mind conjure up the thought of what those thighs would look like spread and pushed to her chest under me while she moaned my name. Me inside her, pounding her into the mattress, my hand wrapped around her neck, my dick coated in her pearly white arousal, and seeing her pretty face contort in pleasure as we hold eye contact. Fuck.

I shake my head at the impure thought as we approached the Suburban was waiting out front. She climbed in first, tossing her dress beside her, then turned to look at me with a smile that said, “Come on, Mr. Mangione.”

I climb in after her. The black Suburban smells like leather and perfume and power. The partition slides up, sealing us in a cocoon of silence and tension.

“That was one of the craziest nights I’ve had in a minute. Def top 3,” I chuckle.

She giggles, slumping against the plush seat, legs spread carelessly, her dress still over her shoulder. “Welcome back to the land of the living.”

I glance over. “You really meant it, huh?”

“Meant what?”

“No strings. Just fun.”

Her head tilts. “I mean…yeah. I just wanted to help you feel alive again. Make you realize that you deserve to have anything your heart desires.”

I nod slowly. “You did.”

There’s a pause. Then, softer: “And what about now?”

I look at her. Really look. The city lights strobe across her skin like we’re still in the club. My heartbeat pounds in my ears like bass.

“Now…I don’t want the night to end.”

And I mean it. With every fiber of my body that remembers death, confinement, silence. I want to be consumed. To be touched. To be human again.

She leans closer, knee brushing mine. “So don’t let it.”

Her mouth is right there. Cinnamon and champagne. I don’t wait.

I lean in and kiss her. And the world catches fire.

It starts soft. Gentle. Her lips are plush and warm, tasting like sugar and daring. But then her hand slides up my neck, curling into my hair, and we both lose our restraint. It turns hungry, messy, slow and deep. Tongues sliding. Moans low. My hands grip her hips as she shifts onto my lap, straddling me with practiced ease.

Her silk slip rides up. Stockings brush my thighs. Her body presses against mine, heat against hardness, soft moans escaping against my mouth. I’m dizzy. Feral. Nearly two years of need coiling in my chest like a live wire finally snapping.

"Fuck," I mutter, hands gripping her hips.

Her grind is slow. Rhythmic. Hypnotic. The pressure of her against me sends fireworks along my spine. My hands move without thought. One gripping the curve of her ass, the other snaking up her back, tangling in her hair.

I bite her bottom lip, tug gently, and her moan vibrates against my mouth.

“God. I love your lips. They’re so big, soft, and pretty. Perfect.” I hear her give a soft whimper at the praise.

“I’ve thought about this since the minute I met you,” I whisper, breath ragged against her jaw.

She groans, licking into my mouth. “Me too. But I didn’t want to give you the wrong idea…”

My lips trace the curve of her throat. “What idea?”

“That all I wanted was this.”

I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “What if I did?”

She falters. Then nods. “Then take it.”

I reach for her strap. Gently. Slowly. I slip it off her shoulder. She watches me. Her eyes half-lidded, chest rising fast and she nods once.

“Go ahead, baby.”

My mouth is on her instantly. Her nipple is soft and dark, breast huge and perfectly round. I wrap my lips around her nipple, warm and soft in my mouth, sucking and licking gently while she sighs and threads her fingers through my curls. I alternate between both breasts, dragging my tongue over her skin, letting the salt of her sweat mix with the Dom on my lips.

"Lu... oh my God, yes. That feels so good." she breathes.

I alternate, licking, sucking, biting just enough to make her gasp.

She rocks against me. Grinding slow. Controlled. Her nails scratch the nape of my neck and I groan against her, teeth grazing skin, hand sliding up her thigh.

She rides my lap like she’s chasing something. And I’m letting her, letting her use me, but guiding her, anchoring her. My huge hand slides up, and wraps around her throat.

Not tight. Just holding. Claiming.

She looks down at me, eyes wild and soft all at once.

"You look so fucking good like this baby,” I whisper. "Falling apart on me.”

Her breath catches. I squeeze just slightly, feeling her pulse under my palm.

“Whose is it baby? Tell me who you belong to now? Say it.”

She bites her lip as she keeps rocking and moans out, “It’s yours. All yours! Please—”

Fuck.

I grip her ass with my free hand, giving it a hard slap that echoes through the car. She gasps, then smiles, wicked and glowing.

"Do it again." I do. Harder.

She whines, grinding faster.

We’re rutting now, sloppy and desperate. Tongues tangled, breath ragged. I slide my hand between us, finding the wet heat of her panty covered core. Just soaked and desperate. I slide the front of them to the side.

Lick my middle and ring finger and press it to her clit and rub painfully slow circles and moving a finger near her entrance coating it with her arousal and bring it back up to her clit and rub a little faster. I lock eyes with her for a split second before she looks away from the intensity of it. Head falling back as one of the prettiest moans I’ve heard escapes her lips.

"Uh uh pretty girl. Don’t look away. Look at me. Keep those eyes on me. Need to see you baby," I command.

She does, eyes shimmering from the intensity of the pleasure.

I slide one finger in—slow, deliberate. She gasps, thighs twitching.

Fuck, she’s tight. Silky, soaked, gripping me like her pussy's starving.

She bucks against my hand, moaning into my neck, needy and helpless from just my fingers.

A week ago, she confessed she hadn’t been touched in nearly two years. Not since that messy, public heartbreak. Voluntary celibacy.

Now here she is, dripping down my wrist, riding my hand like she’s trying to make up for lost time.

And she still has no idea what’s coming when I stretch her open with every thick, aching inch later at the hotel.

Eight inches of dick she’s about to feel in places she forgot existed.

Poor baby.

She really has no clue what she’s in for.

"That’s it. Let me feel you."

Her nails dig into my shoulders, and I add another finger, curling just right. She moans my name like a prayer.

“Luigi...oh fuck."

“Answer honestly. Were you already wet before we got in this fucking car? Did performing like that in front of everyone like that turn you on? You like to be watched don’t you?”

“Y-yes, b-but only by y-you. No one else.”

Fuck. I almost came from that alone.

I grip her neck tighter and bring her face closer to mine and tongue kiss her until she moans. I stop and whisper, “Yeah…fuck that, you’re mine. No one else gets to see you like this” against her lips.

I pump my fingers of my other hand slowly, watching her ride my fingers.

“That’s it, baby,” I whispered. “Grind on it. Ride my fuckin’ hand like you mean it.”

Her hips obeyed before her brain could even catch up. She was panting, mouth open, eyes glazed as she bounced slowly on my lap, using my hand, using me. Every desperate grind against my palm made her body shake more. My name fell from her lips in stuttered moans, and I was gone. Obsessed.

“You feel how hard I am for you?” I growled, bucking up into you as my fingers fucked you faster. “It’s all yours. All for you. Feels good doesn’t it? Can’t wait to have it inside you when we get in that hotel room, right?”

Her forehead dropped to mine, lips brushing, breath hot as you whimpered, “Y-yes Lu”

“Damn right. You belong to me,” I said, biting her jaw lightly. “You were made for this. For me. Such a sweet, spoiled girl on the outside, but such a secret little freak on the inside. That’s why we match. That’s why I’m not letting you or this pussy go. You’re it for me” It’s true. Call it lust, naivety, or whatever the fuck—but I know I want to feel like this forever and maybe I can…with her.

I slipped my fingers deeper, curling them, hitting that spot that made her cry out into my neck. She was trembling in my lap, hands clutching my face now, grounding herself on me as her body started to break apart.

“That’s it, come on, baby,” I coaxed, filthy and tender. “Show me how this pretty pussy falls apart for me. Give it to me. Right here, in my fuckin’ lap. In this car. Look at me while you cum. Let me see that pretty face. Let it go.”

She shattered. Her legs shaking, pussy pulsing around my fingers as I kept stroking her through it, whispering the dirtiest things in her ear. My dick throbbed painfully under her, soaked now in her slick and sweat, but I didn’t care. I wanted her like this. Addicted. Mine.

She’s glowing. Eyes glassy. Lip bitten. Breasts rising and falling fast with every breath. And when her body finally collapsed against me, twitching and breathless, I pressed a kiss to her shoulder and murmured darkly,

“You have no idea how bad I’m gonna fuck you the second we get to that hotel room. I’m unleashing damn near 2 years of pent up frustration on you.”

I felt her clench on my fingers again.

Good girl. My girl.

And I’m completely under her spell.

To be continued….

xoxo,

💋mangionemuse98

💎💋 TAGLIST 💋💎

@mangionebabymama, @mangionesdaisy, @luigislady, @notyancionline, @luigisbambinaaa, @multi-culti-girl, @sweetclassnotes3 @iinfinitelimits, @justlulupeachy

A/N: Surprise! I finally finished it. I had this idea for a while so I hope I did it justice for all my GG fans. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know if anyone would like to be added to my Taglist. 🫶🏾

#luigi mangione #luigi fanfiction #luigi x reader #luigi smut #luigi #luigi thoughts #mangionemuse98 #luigi mangione x black reader #black tumblr #luigi mangione x yn #luigi mangione smut #ricky’s fics #high society

75 notes · View notes

chaotic-evil-ivy · 23 hours ago

Note

Loved your first fic!!!! I have to request one, it was so good. I was thinking: reader and Charles are out, reader starts complaining about how her heels are hurting her so Charles tells her to take them off and offers to piggyback her. Maybe we could also make reader kinda insecure about her weight and thinks Charles wouldn’t be able to carry her for the whole walk, but he does effortlessly, then sweetly scolds her when he finds out she was trying to avoid it because she was being paranoid about herself!

💌 author’s note

hi again 🥺💗

i’m so glad you loved my first little fic — truly had me giggling and kicking my feet reading your comments and requests.

this is fic number two (!!) and i’m proudly obsessed with it. it’s soft, a little vulnerable, and full of barefoot-in-love energy + charles being a golden retriever boyfriend with emotional depth™️. i hope it makes your heart ache in the best way. 🥹

carried away

Reader x charles

The streets of Monaco were glowing—golden lamplight on white stone, the sea humming somewhere in the background. People strolled by in their evening best, the clink of champagne glasses floating from every direction. It was one of those nights that felt cinematic.

And you?

You wanted to cry.

Because your heels—those gorgeous, evil little monsters—were destroying you.

You tried to hide it, tried to walk like your feet weren’t throbbing. But Charles had sharp eyes. He could read you with terrifying accuracy, especially when you were trying not to make a fuss.

You hated fuss. And attention. Especially about your body.

Charles, on the other hand, lived for you to tell him when something was wrong so he could fix it in record time and make you feel like royalty. But tonight, you stayed quiet.

He’d had such a long day. The dinner had been important. You didn’t want to ruin the end of it by whining about your dumb shoe choice.

But the pain… god. Each step was like walking barefoot on Legos. With knives.

You tried to adjust your gait. Slower. Then limping slightly on the outer edge of your feet. Then—

“Y/N.”

His voice came from just ahead. Not loud. But knowing.

You looked up. He’d stopped walking and turned to face you, brows slightly raised, his body already half-turned like he knew you needed him before you did.

You blinked, straightening quickly. “What?”

“Why are you walking like someone stole your kneecaps?”

You choked on a laugh. “I’m not.”

He stared. “Your face is all tight. Like you’re trying not to cry.” He took a step toward you. “What’s wrong?”

You looked down at your feet, chewing the inside of your cheek. “…My shoes are… kind of killing me.”

“Kind of?”

You winced, finally giving in. “Okay, it’s like walking on glass. With stilettos made of sin.”

He frowned, his eyes dipping to your shoes. “Those are the ones you said were ‘definitely manageable.’”

“I lied to both of us.”

A beat passed. Then Charles stepped in, warm hand brushing your arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t want to ruin the walk. It was a nice night.”

He tilted his head, those hazel eyes doing that soft squinty thing that made you feel like the only person on the planet. “If you’re in pain, it’s not a nice night.”

Your throat tightened. Damn him.

“I can walk,” you mumbled, starting to step forward, but he moved fast—blocking you gently with one arm and crouching down with zero hesitation.

“Okay,” he said easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Hop on.”

You blinked. “What?”

He looked over his shoulder, hand reaching back. “Piggyback. I’ll carry you.”

Your face flushed immediately. “Charles. No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Y/N.” His voice lowered just slightly. “I’m not letting you walk five more steps in those torture devices.”

“But—” You paused, heart suddenly thudding. Your voice dropped, awkward and quiet. “I’m not exactly… tiny, Charles.”

He turned his head slowly, his brows drawing together. “What?”

“I’m just saying… I don’t want to break your spine or something.”

His jaw clenched. “Is that why you were pretending everything was fine?”

You hesitated. “It’s not that serious—”

He stood up and turned to face you fully now, eyes locking with yours. “You think I wouldn’t carry you because of your weight?”

“I just—some people wouldn’t be able to, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to—”

“Y/N,” he interrupted, soft but firm. “Do you think I look at you and see numbers? Do you think I care about anything except the fact that your feet hurt and you didn’t tell me because you were afraid I’d think you were… what? Too much to hold?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

He stepped closer, one hand cradling your jaw. “You could weigh a thousand suns and I’d still carry you. Because I want to. Because I love you. Because your pain is mine.”

Your eyes burned. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m Monaco’s top romantic,” he grinned, wiping your cheek with his thumb. “Come on. Shoes off, backpack mode activated.”

You laughed wetly. “Backpack mode?”

“Yes. You’re my favorite cargo.”

You slipped your shoes off, muttering something about catching tetanus from the sidewalk, and climbed onto his back. He lifted you with ease, settling your legs around his waist and hooking your heels into the crooks of his arms.

He didn’t even grunt. He just walked. Like carrying you was as easy as breathing.

You buried your face into his shoulder, nuzzling the soft cotton of his shirt. His skin was warm beneath it, his curls brushing your cheek as he turned slightly to whisper: “I meant what I said, by the way.”

“About tetanus?”

He huffed a laugh. “About you being perfect.”

You smiled against his neck. “I still feel bad.”

“You’re allowed to feel bad. But you’re not allowed to hide pain from me. Or to doubt that I’d do anything for you.”

Your chest tightened. You kissed his cheek. “You’re… kind of the best.”

“I know,” he said, mock cocky. “But say it again.”

You pinched his arm.

He gasped. “Abuse! From a woman being carried like royalty!”

“Don’t push it, Leclerc.”

“Fine,” he murmured, squeezing your leg gently. “But just so you know? You being worried about your weight… broke my heart a little.”

You froze against his back, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

“Charles…”

“I know I joke a lot,” he said, still walking slowly, “but hearing you say that... that you thought I wouldn’t want to carry you, or that you’d be too heavy for me—that’s not just wrong, chérie. That’s something someone probably made you believe a long time ago. And I hate that. I hate that it’s still living in your head, messing with your mirror and stealing moments that should feel happy.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Your throat was tight, your eyes stinging again.

He glanced back, just enough to catch your expression over his shoulder. “You’re mine. And I love all of you. I love your mind, your voice, your laugh, your body—the way you exist in the world. There’s nothing too much about you. Not your thoughts, not your feelings, not your weight. Especially not your weight.”

You pressed your face against his neck, trying to hold in the tears. But he noticed. Of course he did.

He stopped walking and let you slide down from his back gently. His hands stayed on your waist as you landed, grounding you.

You looked up at him. “I’m sorry I said it.”

“No,” he whispered, brushing your cheek with his thumb. “Don’t be sorry for being honest. Just promise me something.”

“What?”

“When your brain gets mean, let my voice be louder. Let me fight it with you, yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah.”

“Good.” He leaned in and kissed you—soft, slow, and full of every unspoken word. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “Now… want me to carry you the rest of the way, or are you emotionally healed enough to walk barefoot like a French forest nymph?”You let out a wet laugh, swiping at the corners of your eyes. “I think I can manage the nymph thing. Barefoot and slightly feral.”

He snorted. “Perfect. That’s exactly my type.”

The moment your feet touched the pavement, his grip tightened ever so slightly, like he didn’t want to let go of you completely. Like he never would.

“Tell me again,” you said after a beat, your voice softer now.

“What part?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“The part about you loving me the way I am.”

Charles stopped walking. You looked up at him, and he gave you this look—tender, unshakable, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

“I love you,” he said simply. “Exactly like this. No conditions, no footnotes. No changing required.”

You blinked back another wave of tears and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he echoed, smiling now.

“I mean, unless you want to carry me again. For the bit. You are very dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” he gasped. “I’m a gentleman.”

“Mhmm. A gentleman who pouts when I steal the covers and who owns four different hairbrushes.”

He nudged your hip. “Don’t mock the tools of perfection.”

You grinned and started walking again, your steps lighter, your heart steadier. His hand brushed against yours, then laced your fingers together.

“Race you home?” he said suddenly, eyes dancing.

“Charles, I’m barefoot.”

“Exactly,” he grinned, brushing his fingers against yours again. “Still think you’d manage to outrun me, though.”

You raised a brow. “Outrun you? In bare feet? After crying in the street?”

He laughed, squeezing your hand. “You underestimate how terrifyingly determined you get when I tease you.”

You nudged his arm with your shoulder. “Good to know my villain origin story starts with emotional sabotage and sore heels.

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “As long as it ends with you still holding my hand.”

You burst out laughing, and Charles looked at you like it was his favorite sound in the universe.

So you walked home together—barefoot, brave, and just a little bit ridiculous.

And somehow, in that quiet space between your old doubts and his steady hand, you started to believe it too.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc one shot

48 notes · View notes

astrae4 · 2 days ago

Text

WHY DO YOU DENY YOURSELF—HEAVEN? | Asakura Jo

pairings — &team’s Jo x reader (non-idol au)

genre — romance & angst

warnings — (wc. 2.3k) could be suggestive, jo’s lowkey hurting n crazy obsessed. um..could be borderline yandere

note — trust me when i say read this while listening to love drought by beyonce.

more works: navigation | &team!masterlist

I SHOULD’VE SAID NO.

I should’ve told Maki I was busy. Lied. Said I was tired. Said I had vocal lessons, or dance practice, or literally anything that kept me from walking into this house—into your house.

But the moment he sent me that text—

“Come over. Mom made too much dinner.”

—I said yes. So fast. Like I was waiting for the excuse.

And now I’m here.

Shoes lined up neatly at the door, the scent of soy and ginger and home-cooked something curling into my lungs like memory. I can hear Maki in the kitchen, clattering dishes, humming something off-key. I should go help. I should move.

But you’re sitting there.

Cross-legged on the living room floor, back to me, wearing that same hoodie you always wear when you’re home—too big, sleeves half-eaten by your hands. You’re flipping through a book, mouthing words under your breath like no one’s listening. And I know I should say something—a soft “Hi” or at least clear my throat—but I can’t.

I can’t—because the moment I see you, it’s like everything else dulls.

The lights dim.

The sounds flatten.

And all I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat—pounding, reckless, completely untamed.

You don’t even know what you do to me.

You never have.

Not when you passed me your umbrella at the station last winter.

Not when you laughed too hard at that dumb pun I made last spring.

Not even last month, when your fingers brushed mine as you passed the soy sauce across the table and I spent the entire ride home gripping the edge of my seat to keep myself from losing my mind.

You are Maki’s sister.

You are off-limits.

You are everything.

It’s a sick kind of irony. The kind that makes my chest tight and my head foggy. The kind that makes me breathless for no reason. I want so badly to not feel this way. So so badly—to unlearn the way my eyes find you even in a room full of people. But I can’t.

And the worst part?

You smile at me.

Like you don’t know what it does. Like you don’t know how my head spirals for days just thinking about it. Like you don’t know you’ve just lit something inside me I’ve been trying to snuff out since the moment we met.

“Oh—Jo, hi!”

Your voice cracks a little when you say my name. Like you weren’t expecting me. Like maybe… maybe you’re a little flustered too.

Fuck.

Don’t read into it.

Don’t be stupid.

Don’t let hope in.

I manage a nod. Just that. Not even a full “Hi.” Because if I open my mouth, I don’t know what’s going to come out.

“You look tired,” you say, standing now, closing the gap between us. You’re closer than you should be. Always so close. And your fingers reach out like you might—like you’re thinking of brushing a loose strand of hair from my face.

I take a half-step back, holding my breath slightly. It’s subtle. You probably don’t even notice. But I feel it—like a stab.

Because all I want to do is lean in.

Press my forehead to yours and say, “Please stop looking at me like that. Please stop being so kind. Or don’t—just… tell me it’s okay to want you.”

But I can’t.

Because Maki trusts me.

Because I’m supposed to be the safe one.

Because the moment I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.

And Jo doesn’t do that. Jo knows better. Jo keeps his feelings quiet.

Jo lives with it.

So I just smile.

Soft. Controlled. Fragile.

And I say, “I’m fine. Thanks.”

But inside?

Inside, I’m screaming.

There’s laughter.

Chopsticks clicking.

Maki’s mom is asking me if I want more rice, and I nod because it’s automatic, because I’m polite, because that’s what Jo does.

But I can’t taste anything.

All I can see is you—right there across from me, smiling as you nudge Maki’s arm and call him annoying for hogging the tofu.

And suddenly I can’t breathe.

I don’t know when it started.

Maybe it was last year. Maybe last week. Maybe it was that first night I heard your laugh from the hallway and thought, That sound could ruin me.

But ever since—

Everywhere I go, I see you.

In the curls of steam rising from tea cups.

In the way certain songs just ache now.

In the backs of strangers who walk with the same sway in their step.

In the trinkets I buy for you—making sure to spray my perfume so you’d smell like me.

You’ve invaded me. All of me. Quietly. Completely.

I can’t look away from you, and I can’t let myself look at you for too long.

It’s unbearable. This stupid in-between.

This pretending like I don’t want to memorize the way you hold your chopsticks or tuck your hair behind your ear when you lean forward to laugh.

You’re not even trying.

You’re just… existing. And it’s killing me.

You reach to refill Maki’s glass. Your fingers brush mine for a second—one, two heartbeats—and my throat clenches so hard I have to force down a cough.

You don’t even notice. You’re busy asking if anyone wants more side dishes.

And I—I sit here.

Smiling.

Nodding.

Laughing when it’s expected.

Answering when I’m spoken to.

But inside, I’m falling apart.

I want you.

More than I’ve ever wanted anything.

And it’s not just attraction—it’s bone-deep, soul-deep.

It’s that I notice when you’ve had a long day before you even speak. It’s that your silence says more to me than most people’s shouting.

I want to make you tea when your throat hurts.

I want to hear you complain about Maki in that low mutter you think no one hears.

I want to be the one who knows all the versions of you—not just the ones you show to family.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

Because you’re his sister.

Because that line is drawn in permanent ink, and crossing it would mean tearing apart something that’s never been mine to begin with.

And still—I sit here.

Dinner table. Normal setting.

Everyone’s happy. Everyone is full.

Except me.

Because I’m starving.

For you.

“You want to see the garden?”

You say it so casually.

A smile, a tilt of your head, your voice threading through me like sugar through tea.

And I say yes. Of course I say yes.

Because there’s no world where I say no to you.

I follow you out into the dark, barefoot on the back step, the air humid and thick with the scent of basil and crushed leaves. The light above the door flickers once before staying steady. Your shoulder brushes mine as you pass through the little gate, and my breath catches so hard I nearly choke on it.

You’re showing me your plants.

You’re pointing at tomatoes. Laughing about a failed strawberry pot. Telling me how the rosemary always overgrows no matter what.

I nod.

I smile.

But I don’t hear a word.

Because all I can think is:

You have no idea what you’re doing to me.

You have no idea what you’ve done.

This garden—this whole night—it’s not a casual thing for me. It’s sacred.

I will remember this moment until the day I die.

The moonlight catching the curve of your cheek. The way you talk with your hands when you’re excited. The tiny fleck of soil on your wrist you don’t know is there.

And the worst part?

You trust me.

You trust me enough to bring me out here. To talk to me about your little basil sprouts and the birds that keep stealing seeds and the sun that hits your favorite flowers best at noon.

And I—I’m standing here like a man possessed.

My hands are clenched in my pockets. My nails are digging into my palms. I am one breath away from ruining everything.

Because I want to kiss you.

No. I want to devour you.

I want to press you against the wooden fence and whisper everything I’ve locked in my throat since I first saw you that summer with wet hair and a juice box in your hand.

I want to tell you how your smile makes me dizzy.

How I replay every conversation we’ve ever had in my head like a favorite song.

How I’ve written entire verses I’ll never sing because they sound too much like your name.

You don’t get it.

This isn’t a crush.

This is something biological. Primal. Like my body recognizes you before my brain does.

And every second I spend near you is a second I’m burning alive just to keep the peace.

“Jo?”

Your voice is soft.

You’ve turned to face me, one hand resting gently on the rosemary. Because I’m staring.

Because I haven’t said anything in too long.

Because I’m not okay.

And you look at me—open, unguarded—like you’d trust me with anything.

And it ruins me.

Because I’d never betray that trust.

But I already have.

Just by feeling this much.

“I—”

I try to speak. I really do.

But I feel it—the crack. The break. The shattering inside my ribs.

And I can’t take it anymore.

The way you look at me like I’m safe.

Like I haven’t been thinking about kissing you for a year straight.

Like I haven’t built entire fantasies out of your laughter just to survive the days I don’t see you.

My mouth opens. Closes.

I try to swallow it down like I always do.

But my throat’s too tight. My chest is too full. And before I know it—

The words are falling out. Quiet. Hoarse. Real.

“I’m sorry.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

My voice shakes.

I can feel it coming undone in my ribs.

“I shouldn’t—” I look down, anywhere but at you. “I shouldn’t feel this way. About you. I—I try so hard not to, I swear. But it doesn’t stop. It never stops.”

My breath hitches.

I clench my hands into fists to keep them from trembling.

And still, my eyes burn.

“Every time I see you, it gets worse.”

My voice breaks. Quiet. Like a confession in a chapel.

“I hear your voice, and my chest hurts. I remember things you said once, months ago, and I replay them like they mean more than they do. I—I can’t help it. I just…”

I laugh. Not really. Just the sound of disbelief slipping out of me.

“I want you. So much it scares me.”

The silence after that is deafening.

Not even the wind moves.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, softer this time. Choked. “For feeling this much. For looking at you like this. For not being able to stop.”

I lift my eyes, finally—and they sting.

I’m not crying, not really. But I’m close.

And I think you know that.

You’ve always been good at reading me, haven’t you?

You step forward.

You reach for me.

Your hand, light on my sleeve, your eyes searching mine with something that makes my knees threaten to buckle. My breath hitches—because this can’t be happening. You shouldn’t be this close. You shouldn’t look at me like that.

But you are.

And then—

You say it. Soft. Almost like it’s a secret.

“I like you too, Jo.”

Your voice wavers. “I think I’ve liked you for a while.”

The world slows.

My ears ring.

You’re right here. Inches away. And your words are honey. They melt into me. So slow. So real. And I think I forget how to stand.

But I don’t speak. Not yet.

Because you’re still talking.

Still nervously twisting the hem of your shirt, still trying to find the courage to meet my eyes.

And all I can think is:

Please. Please say more. Keep going. Let me live in this moment.

Because if I speak too soon, I’ll ruin it. If I breathe wrong, I might explode.

My heart is shaking. My hands are shaking, clenched so hard it hurts.

I’ve imagined this a thousand times and none of it prepared me for the realness of you—right here, soft and warm and mine, for a second.

You glance up finally, voice barely above a whisper.

“If… if you still want me.”

Still want you?

I almost laugh.

I’ve never stopped.

I can’t take it anymore. My voice trembles like it’s been underwater for months when I finally ask—

“Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

And that’s it.

The last thread of restraint snaps.

I move carefully at first.

One hand to your cheek.

I lean in slow, like I’ll scare you if I go too fast, like I’m afraid you’ll disappear.

Our lips meet.

Soft. Barely there.

And for one blissful, trembling second, it’s all shy wonder and stilled time.

But then—

Then something breaks.

I feel it in your exhale.

In the way you press closer.

In the way my fingers tighten against your waist like they’ve been waiting for permission to hold you properly.

And I can’t pretend anymore.

The second kiss isn’t shy.

It’s years of silence breaking all at once.

It’s months of stolen glances, of late-night dreams, of sitting across from you at dinner still starving.

I kiss you like I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance again.

Like I’ll wake up and find it was a dream.

Like if I stop now, I’ll never survive the hunger I’ve carried this long.

My hands are in your hair. Your lips part just enough to steal my breath. You gasp against me and I swear, I see stars behind my eyelids.

You pull back a little, dazed. Chest rising too fast.

And I..

I’m breathless too. I press my forehead to yours. Eyes shut, yet the only thing I could think of was your lips. I want more. I want so much more that oxygen isn’t even my main necessity anymore.

In fact, in this moment I wished oxygen wasn’t as important so I could feel your soft lips for all of eternity.

Still. I can’t scare you away. No. Not after restraining myself for so long.

I whisper gently, my thumb caressing your cheek.

“Let me kiss you again. Please.”

TAGLIST: @ja4hyvn @flwoie @sulkygyu @xiaoderrrr @ineedaherosavemeenow @teddywonss @taerae-verse @bbangbies @hyeinsveil @makixroll

NETWORKS: @lune-net @k-films @k-labels

#k labels #k films #lune net #andteam jo x reader #&team jo x reader #andteam jo #&team jo #asakura jo #jo x reader #andteam x reader #&team x reader #&team fluff #&team #&team imagines #&team oneshots #andteam x you #andteam

44 notes · View notes

kdh-tally · 5 hours ago

Note

Hii I was wondering whether u can make a part 2 of Mira dealing with Cancel Culture where Rumi, Zoey and Baby help her?(I love the idea of a friendship between Mira and Baby)no pressure since ur requests js opened!

Mira Dealing With Cancel Culture PT 2 (ft Huntrix and Baby)

Prompt : Mira heads to Baby's place to relax.

Author's Note : This isn't super angsty at alllllll. I wanted it to have a happy vibe cause i feel like its what Mira deserved lmao. Sorry for taking so long to get to this <3

Read Part 1 -> heeeeeereeee

It had been a month since the company released their statement and there was a noticeable difference in the fandom's behaviour. The hate had died down fast, but the impact was still there.

“We are actively investigating the fan accounts that sent threatening and abusive letters to our artist, Mira. Legal action is underway. Harassment will not be tolerated. She will also continue to participate in all future Huntr/x projects.”

Mira had let them send it. She hadn’t wanted to, but Rumi and Zoey were relentless with their pleading.

“You always protect us,” Rumi had whispered that day. “Let us protect you.”

Mira didn’t say anything then, just gave a short nod and carried on with the procedure. But she didn’t feel fully protected. Not really. The hate slowed down, sure. But it didn’t disappear.

And the worst part? It stuck to her. She could see it in people’s eyes sometimes. People who simply refused to believe her would look down upon her condescending as though she hadn’t worked hard to get to where she was.

The people who sided with her were almost worse. She could feel their pitying glances stick to her skin like glue. She hated it. Hated how people were doubting her, hated how everyone was pitying her. She didn’t need pity.

Which is why when Zoey walked into their shared dressing room and found Mira curled up on the loveseat, noise-canceling headphones on, eyes staring emotionless at the ceiling, she didn’t say anything. Just walked over and sat down next to her.

Mira didn’t move. Zoey wasn’t even sure she had noticed her presence.

Zoey sat in silence for a minute, then slowly plucked an earbud out of one ear. “You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Mira blinked. “Huh?”

Zoey gestured toward the table top where Mira had left her phone. It was still open, the screen paused on a video. A recording of a hate compilation someone had made. Mira hadn’t even realized she was still watching it.

Zoey picked up the phone, disconnected it from the earbuds and locked it. She then shoved it to the bottom of her purse.

"You shouldn't be doing this."

“I know.” Mira whispered.

Zoey didn’t push further. Instead, she reached for her hand. “You hungry?”

Mira shook her head.

“Good. Cause I wasn’t gonna feed you. I was gonna drag you to Baby’s place.”

Mira gave a small breath of a laugh and took the shorter girls hand..

—

Baby’s apartment was dimly lit and overly chaotic. He was the first to move out of the Saja Boy’s dorm, much to the disappointment of his hyungs. He’d gotten a nice spacious high rise apartment right in the center of the girls penthouse and the boys dorm. It quickly became the girls favourite hangout space.

There were snacks everywhere, a console booting up on the TV, and their shared playlist already blasting from a speaker. Rumi was already there, legs crossed as she lounged on his extremely plush couch. She typed away furiously at her phone, no one would ever know but she was arguing with Mira haters on one of her fake twitter accounts.

“You’re late,” she spoke without looking at Mira.

Mira raised an eyebrow. “We never agreed on a time...”

“It’s seven o’three.”

Baby laughed from the kitchen, he had been plating snacks. “She’s just mad ‘cause Zoey beat her at Mario Kart three times.”

“It was only two times!” Rumi yelled.

“Keep lying to yourself” Zoey muttered, throwing herself down onto the couch and stealing Rumi’s drink in the process.

“How are you guys so calm? You know the company’s still getting emails, right?” Mira muttered as she watched the 3 move around, it was more for herself but they just so happened to hear. “Some brands backed out from the variety show deal. I’m not stupid.”

Rumi didn’t even blink. “And?”

“So maybe you should stop wasting time babysitting me.”

Baby peeked out from the kitchen. “If you were a waste I wouldn’t have let you in in the first place. Now If you don’t come sit your pink ass down, I’m gonna come carry you myself.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“You’re right. I’d make Zoey do it,” he smirked.

Zoey nodded mischievously from where she lay. “I would.”

Mira sighed and finally walked over. She didn’t zone out the way she had been doing for the last few days, but she didn’t smile either. She couldn’t get it. How could they act so normal?

Baby plopped beside her so all four of them were comfy on the mega large couch. “So. We’re not here to make you talk or unpack feelings or whatever it is you idols do when in these situations.”

Mira stayed quiet.

Rumi leaned forward, turning off her phone. “But you are gonna sit here and eat every single one of these dumplings I made. Or I will throw them at you.”

Zoey cheered. “And I brought ice cream.”

“From that place down the street?”

“Yup. They gave me an extra scoop for being pretty.”

Baby rolled his eyes. “They gave you an extra scoop ‘cause I flirted with the cashier for you.”

Mira finally smiled. “You’re all so dramatic.”

“Look who’s talking,” Baby muttered.

“Girl, you’ve been faking your way through fan calls all week,” Zoey added.

The room went silent.

Mira glanced at them, her fingers fidgeting in her lap as she fought to ask the question that had been pestering her brain ever since she entered the door. “You guys don’t… pity me?”

Baby sat up straighter. “No. We don’t pity you. Because you’re not weak.”

Rumi crossed her arms. “Exactly. We know what you’ve been through. You think a few hate comments change how we see you?”

Zoey tilted her head, her voice gentler. “Mira, pity is for people we don’t believe in. And we believe in you. You’re not some broken doll. You’re just our friend. Our protective big sister. Our girl.”

Mira didn’t answer right away. Her throat was tight. She blinked a few times and looked away. She wouldn’t cry in front of them. Not over something so small.

Baby leaned closer. “Besides, we know you hate pity so don’t worry. All you get from us is support and food.”

Zoey snorted. “Especially food. You’re not allowed to waste them. I slaved away in that kitchen for hours.”

Mira breathed out a shaky laugh.

Rumi leaned closer. “I know you’re trying to be strong. But strength doesn’t mean ignoring everything. It means letting the people around you handle it sometimes.”

“I’m not used to that,” Mira said quietly.

“We know,” Zoey replied. “But that’s why we’re here.”

Baby gently shoved Mira’s shoulder. “You’re not fighting this alone anymore. Got it? You’re not allowed to.”

Mira didn’t answer.

But later, when she reached for another dumpling and let her leg press against Zoey’s, when she let Baby braid her hair without complaint, when she let Rumi rest his head on her lap while scrolling through dumb memes.

That was answer enough.

It wasn’t fixed. It wasn’t forgotten. It would never be.

She would forever remember this moment, where she felt all the pressure of the world weighing down upon her because of who she chose to love.

But she would also remember her friends, even the two spoiled brats. She’d remember that she wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.

“You guys are so clingy,” she muttered.

“You love it,” Zoey shot back.

And that was a truth that Mira couldn’t deny.

32 notes · View notes

cruesuffix · 2 days ago

Text

“You wrote a fucking shitty thing about us with Matthew Trippe!”

Aka, the infamous Matthew Trippe story, as told by Kerrang. Transcribed by: Lily (crüesuffix!)

Back in 1981, bass player Frank Ferrana [stage name Nikki Sixx] linked up with three other Los Angeles musicians to form MÖTLEY CRÜE. Two years later, just as the band were breaking big, Ferrana was involved in a car crash. His injuries were so serious, he couldn't continue playing. Enter a new Nikki Sixx - a guy called Matthew Trippe. He joined the Crüe as Ferrana’s replacement - a Nikki Sixx ‘doppelgänger' - and the band carried on as if nothing had ever happened. This is only part of a sensational story that JON HOTTEN has unearthed. Is it true? Or is it some elaborate scam? Read on, look at the pix and make up your own minds…

Who is Nikki Sixx? The bass player in Mötley Crüe? Sure, there is someone of that name in the band, always has been. But his identity, his real identity - away from the make-up, stage glitz and cartoon antics - is in question.

This is a weird story. If you care anything about the Crüe, or even about how much the business controls the music these days, it may be a shocking one.

I can’t tell you if it’s true or not, but I’ll tell you the story as best as I understand it. This is what happened.

Mötley Crüe officially formed on January 17th 1981, in Los Angeles with the line up of Mick Mars, Tommy ‘Lee’ Bass, Vince ‘Neil’ Wharton, and Frank Carlton Serafino Ferrana - ‘Nikki Sixx’.

By 1982, the Crüe had released one album, ‘Too Fast For Love,’ had secured a major record deal with WEA/Elektra on the strength of it, and the band’s management, ‘Doc’ McGhee and Doug Thaler, had big plans for the Crüe.

In mid-1983, Frank ‘Nikki Sixx’ Ferrana was involved in a serious car crash somewhere in California and couldn’t continue playing.

This left McGhee and Thaler with a big problem. The Crüe were on the verge of a major

breakthrough; they weren’t terrifically famous yet, though they had been featured in Kerrang, and the management didn’t want to lose any of the buzz that had started to build up around the band.

So the solution they found was a simple one. Out went Frank Ferrana… and in came a man called Matthew John Trippe. Same hair, same make-up, a few inches shorter, a little fatter, but nonetheless very similar in looks to Ferrana. Similar enough to become ‘Nikki Sixx.’

Trippe was a great find for the Crüe. He was a good bass player, wrote some excellent songs and, although he was a little wild, fitted in well.

Now the story gets even more bizarre. The tale goes that Trippe composed all of the tunes that appeared under the name ‘Nikki Sixx.’ During this period Trippe was repeatedly criticized for the satanic aspect of his lyrics. ‘Shout At The Devil’ was originally titled ‘Shout With The Devil,’ but was altered to fit with plans to clean up the groups satanic look, in line with growing pressure from groups like the PMRC in America. The Crüe’s popularity, meantime, continued to grow.

The Crüe image was duly toned down. (Indeed, when their third album ‘Theatre of Pain’ appeared, they were clad in pastel stripes and polka dots. More sequins, less Satan.)

There was, though, a problem. Matthew Trippe believed the lyrics he wrote (more of which later), and continued to do so.

And then, the story takes another incredible twist. On August 28 1984, Matthew Trippe was arrested in Erie, Pennsylvania, on a charge of armed robbery. (In fact, the previous April, Trippe had driven his friend John Spears to a shop to buy some beer. While Trippe waited in the car, Spears held a knife to a bookstore owner’s throat. Trippe witnessed the incident and drove Spears away, but claims he did not know Spears was planning to rob the store when he drove him there.)

Trippe was returned to Florida, where he spent 39 days in seclusion before his record company put up a $50,000 bond (bail), so that he could continue work on the ‘Theatre of Pain’ album, then being recorded in Los Angeles.

Trippe attended recording sessions from November 27 to December 21 1984, after which he appeared in the ‘Smokin In The Boys Room’ video.

Meantime, more disaster struck Crüe. On December 8, Vince Neil’s car went out of control in Redondo Beach, California, killing passenger Nicolas ‘Razzle’ Dingley of Hanoi Rocks, and resulting in Neil facing charges of vehicular manslaughter and drunk driving.

The upshot of this incident has been widely documented; it needn’t reappear here. It did, however, divert attention from the events involving Trippe taking place in Florida.

Trippe’s trail was scheduled for December 27, so he and Mick Mars drove to Florida in Mars’ Ferrari, which Trippe had decided to buy. However, when it came to the crunch, Trippe couldn’t bring himself to appear in court and jumped bail. Four days later, shortly after midnight on New Year’s Day 1985, Trippe and Mars were joyriding in the Ferrari, when Trippe tried to outrun a patrol car. He received a ticket for going 189 mph in a 40 mph zone (!), plus several other connected charges, for which he received a $780 fine the following day.

They paid the fine, and Trippe headed to Erie, Pennsylvania, where his ex-personal manageress resided. She hid him until March 4, when he was finally caught by police on the outstanding armed robbery warrant. He fought extradition for a further three months, but on June 28 1985, he was taken back to Florida’s Collier County jail.

Then came the biggest twist yet, the trick in the tale…

During Trippe’s incarceration in the summer of 1985, the Crüe management decided the time had come for Trippe to take a fall…

They contacted the Frank Ferrana, the original ‘Nikki Sixx,’ who rejoined the band for their 1985 touring schedule. He remained with the Crüe ever since.

Matthew Trippe, meanwhile, was out of Mötley Crüe and was stripped of his identity as ‘Nikki Sixx,’ who lived on in the form of Frank Ferrana. Trippe was told to continue writing songs for the Crüe, and that his royalties would be placed in a trust account.

Trippe was tried in Florida on August 13 1985, where his attorney, public defender David Mourik, advised him to plead ‘no contest’ to armed robbery charges. Trippe was returned to jail for a further three months to await sentencing. In early November, he received a fine, six months probation, and two years ‘community control’ (a form of house arrest that would restrict him to Florida).

Trippe was assigned to a drug rehabilitation centre, The New Life Centre, for his two years community control. The New Life Centre aims to convert residents to Born Again Christainity. They cut Trippe's hair and forbade him contact with much of the outside world. In the meantime, keeping with his satanic fascination, Trippe applied for membership of an Occult sect known as the Temple of Set.

He was admitted, at the grade of Setian 10, on Halloween. Matthew Trippe's sentence was up in November 1987, and since then he has drifted from one menial job to another, trying to support his family. He says he has no exposure as a rock artist. Moreover, he insists that he has no desire to be ‘Nikki Sixx’ again, nor does he wish to rejoin the Crüe.

Trippe does, however, wish to be recognized as once having been Sixx, and that he be paid the royalties he claims he is owed.

To this end, on January 19, 1968, Matthew John Trippe filed a complaint for 'civil theft and other relief’ against McGhee Entertainments Inc, Doc McGhee and Douglas Thaler. The suite alleges that Trippe was, for a period of time,

Nikki Sixx - a member of Mötley Crüe. There are five counts to the document, of which Kerrang! has a copy, inciuding one for damages, and one for unjust enrichment.

McGhee and Thaler deny the suit, and claim Trippe is an imposter. Matthew Trippe, in turn, claims that he has never received any royalties for the songs he wrote for the Crue. When he was in the band he says, he was happy to just play, and was supplied with drink, drugs, and women. He never asked for more.

He insists that he contributed to songs on ‘Shout At The Devil,’ composed all the tunes credited to Nikki Sixx on ‘Theatre of Pain’ apart from Home Sweet Home, and the songs he wrote in jail - ‘Girls Girls Girls’, ‘All I Need,’ ‘All In The Name Of…,’ ‘Five Years Dead’, ‘Dance On Fire (Dancing On Glass)’ and ‘Wild Side’ - all appeared, in slightly but not radically altered forms, on Crüe’s 1987 album, the hit ‘Girls Girls Girls.’ Meanwhile Frank Ferrana is still ‘Nikki Sixx.’

So that is the story, on the surface a wild one. So how did it leak out?

In January of 1986, Runes, the magazine of the Temple Of Set (of which Trippe is a member) told the story, virtually as it is appears here, with the exception - they said Trippe was the original Nikki Sixx and was merely replaced by Ferrana in summer 1986. This mistake is understandable, because Trippe was in jail at the time he told them his story, all communication was by letter, and this maybe explains how the confusion arose, as the Temple of Set evidently did little research into metal before publishing the story.

The story was picked up by the New Musical Express who produced a synopsis of the runes story on January 2 1988. Kerrang was then contacted by a source known to us, who wishes to remain anonymous, with the story you read here, plus much of the evidence displayed. The source maintained that now the story had been prematurely blown in the NME, we may be able to do more towards uncovering the truth than they would.

So we began with open eyes, to look into it. I repeat, I can’t tell you if the story is true or not. I just don’t know. But this is the evidence.

Firstly, compare the lyrics our source provided, composed by Trippe in jail in 1984-5 (which the source claims can be chemically dated for proof) to the ones that appeared on the ‘Girls album in 1987.

If Trippe is an imposter, then he was certainly good at guessing the lyrics that would appear on an album he had no knowledge of two years later. Compare the photographic evidence. First see the photograph of Sixx (Ferrana) that appeared in Kerrang issue 30, way back in 1982. He towers over Vince Neil. Although he is wearing high heels, you can see his is considerably taller than Neil. Then look at the live shot of Crüe, taken some time in 1984, that appeared in the Theatre Of Pain tour programme (ironically a tour Trippe didn’t appear on!). Both Sixx and Vince are in flat shoes, and Sixx (Trippe) is only slightly taller than Vince, maybe three or four inches.

Now look at the final shot of Sixx (Ferrana again) and Neil standing together, with Neil’s head resting near Sixx’s shoulder.

Study the early shots of Ferrana, and notice his sharp features. Then study shots of mid period Sixx and. Notice the rounded, fatter jaw, fuller face and smaller lips merely painted with the upturns that appear on Ferrana’s wider mouth! (Remember also that Ferrana recently claimed that to have had the fat sucked out of his cheeks to give him back his original gaunt looks).

Compare the shot of Nikki Sixx in strips onstage and in make-up with the face of Matthew John Trippe today. Compare the shot of Sixx (Trippe) in the shower, navel horizontal and elongated and depressed, and then the shot of Sixx (Ferrana’s) navel, round and protruding, photographed on the ‘Girls tour.

The Temple of Set also claim in Runes that Trippe can provide many anecdotes and minute details of his time in the band. Balance this against the vast number of people who’ve come in contact with Sixx, known him for years, and either said nothing, known nothing, or ignored the evidence of their own eyes.

Runes reports that Elektra, the Crue's US record company fielded a lot of calls from fans in ‘85 claiming Sixx had changed…

If this incredible story really took place, surely someone would have known, and blown it wide open… surely?

And then, if Trippe is an imposter, and created this whole scenario as an elaborate scam, how could we come up with so much evidence to corroborate it? Why would us lawyers even bother to take his case? Why would we run this feature?

I promised you no answers. You may have even more questions. Maybe time will answer them. Maybe Nikki Sixx or Mötley Crüe will answer them. Maybe.

#mötley crüe #nikki sixx #vince neil #tommy lee #mick mars #the Matthew Trippe incident #can’t believe Kerrang actually printed this #didn’t take them as a conspiracy theory magazine #i’d be peeved too if I was nikki (the real one)

30 notes · View notes