#it would probably break his heart to sing it

[ikeuluvr]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE || Nishimura Riki

synopsis - surviving months on end without you while he’s touring is the equivalent of torture for bf!ni-ki, but thankfully facetime exists…

idol!ni-ki x reader / established relationship - fluff + teeny bit of angst / warnings: none! / word count: ~1k

part of ikeuluvr’s song series ᵔᴗᵔ — works inspired by songs! requests are open for other songs + anything else you would like to see from me <3

Ni-ki loves the rush of performing more than anything in the world. Standing on stage in dozens of different countries—looking out at the faces of his fans while some of them cheer, some laugh, dance, or even cry. The sound of everyone screaming his name makes him feel like the luckiest man alive. He dreads leaving the stage each night; watching the lights of the crowd slowly disappear as the screens close in front of him, giving him one less thing to look forward to. However, the one thing he knows he can always count on is speaking to you at the end of the night.

As much as Ni-ki adores touring, a small glint of guilt always resides in his heart each time he has to leave you for months at a time. Each goodbye is never easier as you go from having him sitting in front of you to propping up your phone screen at the table with him on a call. The time difference was nothing enjoyable either, the both of you waking up at the crack of dawn or going to sleep obnoxiously late depending on where Ni-ki is to make sure you have a chance to speak to each other that day.

As tonight marks week five out of six of being apart, Ni-ki feels especially restless wishing nothing more than for you to be in his arms as he sleeps his exhaustion off tonight. Once he’s driven back to the hotel, he doesn’t waste any time to say good night to his members before trudging to his room and throwing himself onto the bed. He pulls out his phone and speeds to click your contact to start a FaceTime call. Letting out a sigh, he stares at his tired face on his screen until it’s replaced with yours.

“Hi beautiful,” he hums, a smile plastering on his face as all of the energy he lost suddenly rushes back into his body, “I miss you.”

“Hi Riks, I miss you so much too!” you respond excitedly as you get comfortable on your couch, the sunlight peeking through your curtains while the moonlight peeks through Ni-ki’s, “How was the show tonight? I saw clips on social media, you guys were on fire.”

Ni-ki lets out an endeared chuckle at how adorable you are—the way you always keep track of every performance makes his heart flutter, “It was really really good! I love the Chicago crowd, they’re amazing. They were so loud tonight I could barely hear myself sing even with my monitors in.”

You flash a smile, listening intently as he speaks, his eyes sparkling with each word, “Aww I’m glad, it’s what you guys deserve,” you say, “I wish I could’ve been there. It looked so fun.”

“Yeah… me too,” Ni-ki answered, his tone dropping softly as the pain of missing you starts to hit again, “I keep wanting to look for you in the crowd until I remember you’re not here.”

A frown takes over your face as Ni-ki’s voice gets solemn, your heart slowly breaking at the way his face immediately drops, “Honey… only one more week, right? Only one more week and then we can spend every night cuddling in bed again while I kiss you all over your pretty face,” I grin, trying to cheer him up a little bit.

Ni-ki lets out a laugh as a pink blush covers his cheeks, “I’ll be counting down the week by the minute, don’t worry,” he hums before pausing, a smirk drawn on his face, “Do you think you could drop of of university to start touring with me?”

“Well! No…” you laugh, “Probably not the best idea sweetie, but good question.”

“I’m kidding, I wouldn’t let you do that even if you wanted to,” Ni-ki smiles, “But I really do wish you could be here with me every night. I love my job, but I love you so much more and I just-” he lets out a defeated sigh, “I wish I could bring you along and triple the joy I feel on tour by having you in the crowd each night.” His face falls again, a mix of irritation and heartache quickly filling his voice.

You tilt your head with a pout as Ni-ki’s eyes leave the screen to look somewhere else, the pained look on his face killing you inside, “I know Riki… I wish more than anything I could be with you too. In the future when things are a little different, we’ll travel the world together, hm? I’ll make you my cute little tour guide in every country,” you snicker with a smile, trying to bring him out of his melancholic state.

He lets out a snort at your response, playfully rolling his eyes, “Okay babe, I promise to be your cute and very handsome tour guide in the future,” Ni-ki retorts, letting out a long breath, “Hey love, can you give me a kiss?”

You quirk an eyebrow at his request thinking the jet lag may be getting to him at an exponential level and pause for a second to think of how to respond, “Ummm… I would love to baby, but there’s kind of an obstacle in the way if you haven’t noticed.”

“No, no I know, I’m not stupid I promise,” he chuckles, “But I miss you, I miss you, I really wanna kiss you…”

“And how are you expecting me to do this, Riks?”

“Baby, kiss me thru the phone,” Ni-ki says in a shy whisper, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips making you smile and flush a rosy pink, “Come on… I know you want to.”

“You’re so ridiculous, you know that?” you laugh, absolutely smitten with your boyfriend on the other end of the line, “But fine… I’ll kiss you thru the phone babe.”

Ni-ki lets out a giggle as he cheeses a boxy smile, quickly bringing the phone closer to his face and planting a kiss to his phone camera just as excitedly as if it were your actual lips he was kissing. You do the same with a lovesick grin painted on your face, pulling away a few seconds later to see the same adoring smile on Ni-ki’s lips, “We get to do that but for real in 7 days you know…” you remind him with a playful smile.

“Can’t wait baby… see you then.”

masterlist

[eminentzayn]

its gonna be a long time since we'll even have the remote possibility of seeing zayn play stardust live, innit

[mooseyspooky]

my top 10 songs right now for @lovely-lady-fox and @staticspxcelover (using youtube and Spotify cause I cannot be stopped)

[draco-renn]

Man. All I do these days is fail to meet expectations and then get upset at myself for failing to meet those expectations. This sucks.

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Conner Kent - Spin-Off

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Spinoff based on this ask, and combing it with this AU. I was just having fun with this and kinda practicing. So apologies if it’s weird! Hope I wrote it decent at least!

A/N: Probably will follow this same idea with the main story.

Warnings: Potential baby trapping, is it voyeurism if it's just ease-dropping?, Fem!Reader, Yandere themes, obsession, stalking, a bit NSFW, pregnancy

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Could you blame him for not taking the opportunity when it was offered so readily to him?

Conner would easily admit he was weak for you. To anyone. Tim, Bruce, Lex, Clark. Anyone.

While none of them may not take him seriously when he says it, he meant it. Devotedly.

He still had to play his cards right after that night. The night he had heard you at a party in Gotham while he laid in his bed on the Kent farm. He was always listening for you. Your voice, your complaints, your tears, your breath, your heart beat. It was his favorite song, his favorite lullaby. Angels singing couldn’t compare to it.

And, when he heard your drunken giggle as some pathetic asshole flirted with you, he moved. He didn’t really think of taking you. He just wanted to keep the trash off you.

But, then his lips were on yours, and your legs were around his waist. Your hands in his hair, his hands on your thighs.

Conner memorized each slight hitch of your breath. Every single gasp, moan, and whimper the escaped you that night. Even the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in his head when he had been in the manor the next day. Listening to you sleep off your hangover and wonder aloud who the stranger you slept with had been.

Disappointment filled him when he realized you couldn't remember who he was, but he could hear your heart pick up when you thought about the faint memories you did still have of that night. That was enough for him. For now.

When he heard the faint sound of a heat beat slightly out of tempo with your own appear less then a month later, he had to stop himself from doing something stupid.

He'd at least let you make the decision when it came to that. Whatever it would be.

That didn't stop him from sneaking into your room in the manor while you slept, pressing his ear to your chest and holding his hand over the second heartbeat. Some nights he whisper. To you, and to them. Conner fights the temptation to peak. He doesn't want to take away you being the first to see them at the very least.

Of course, duty calls eventual and he has to take a space travel. Coming back to Earth weeks later, the first thing he searches for it that same sound in your chest. It soothes him to hear it. It gives him further delight to still hear the second one too. You must have found out about the second by now.

He can hardly hide his stupid grin and pay attention to anything going on around him.

Conner lets people think he's just excited to be home. Even he wears the exact same smile on his lips while visiting Tim.

His world crashes when he doesn't hear your heartbeat in the manor. You're not even in Gotham anymore. He can still hear your pulse, so his world doesn't burn. But, he sticks around long enough to realize you had left while he was gone and no one had even noticed.

It broke his heart for you, but now he didn't have to worry about the rest of them and could focus solely on you.

As soon as he left the manor with a casual wave, he was off like a hound dog on a trail. He nearly breaks the sound barrier as he tracks you down.

He isn't even mad when you scream in surprise at his sudden appearance. Doesn't even dodge the objects you start throwing at him before his arms are around your waist and his head is buried in your chest. All he can do is sigh in relief at your confusion.

"Conner… What the hell are you doing?"

"Shhhh, I missed you both."

"Missed? Both? The hell?" Futile you start trying to worm your way out of his grasp when it clicks in your head what exactly he's talking about.

"Hang on. Please. I didn't want to overwhelm you." He murmurs while nuzzling into your skin.

"Instead you let me freak out by myself like a dick. God, I've been throwing up, and filled with anxiety-"

There you go complaining, again. Muttering to yourself. But, this time it's about him, so he loves it even more. Letting you go on and on until he peppers your lips with apologies from his own and makes them stop. Gasp and moans taking their place. It's hard to tell which he likes more. Each sound you make has him falling further and further in love.

[catboyieejeno]

bf! intak who falls asleep on your shoulder during car rides and plane rides instead of the other way around. probably drools a little too, but you don’t have it in you to wake him up because his eyes are half opened and his cheek is completely smooshed. so endearing, it would be a crime to disturb him :(

bf! intak who blushes furiously when you kiss his cheek. kisses on the lips are phenomenal, and they are his absolute favorite—but there’s something so sweet about you giving him a kiss on the cheek, especially when you have to stand on your tippy toes and rest your hands on his chest.

proceeds to hold your hands where they rest, looking down to hide the flustered, dorky smile that takes over his features.

“one more” he’ll ask, giving you the softest, pleading eyes. “please?”

bf! intak who blows raspberries on your tummy, and kisses it after. who also has a habit of playing with your fingers, or your rings if you’re wearing any. who has to be touching you at all times, whether it’s a hand on your hip, or your knee, or the small of your back. has to be touching you, and if he isn’t because you’re not nearby, he’ll perk his head up, and look around until he spots you. jogs over and fits his hand into yours with a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling “i was wondering where you went :(“ “but it’s okay!” he beams “cause i found you!”

bf! intak who wakes you up by accident every morning when his lips press into your shoulder or your neck or your jaw. the funny thing is: he’s still asleep. he’s kissing you and nuzzling into you in his sleep with his warm cheek pressing against yours and his hair tickling your face. his arm pulls you tighter to him when you stir, and finally, he wakes up when you stretch, in fear that you actually meant to get up.

“don’t get up yet… please, you’re s’warm..”

“intak, baby, i was just stretching.”

“come closer >:(“

scowls but with his eyes closed until you’re completely wrapped around him and under the mountain of blankets again.

bf! intak who always insists on showering with you. 9/10 times, he’s in there with you, and 6/10 times, it isn’t even sexual. he’s making a mohawk out of your hair with shampoo, and molding his own hair to match with a silly grin on his face. he’s scrubbing your face wash lovingly onto your cheeks and kissing your nose as you smile up at him (then proceeds to wash his face like a MAN all rough and crazy, which earns him a bit of a scolding from you). he holds you under the water and steals little pecks as the water bill gets higher and higher (at this point, you would’ve saved more water taking separate showers).

if you guys are playing music he’s singing loudly between giggles and designating parts so that you guys can put on a little concert. If there’s no music then he’s bickering with you about how you’re hogging the hot water, so he pushes you out of the way. only stays there for a few seconds though, cause the thought of you being cold makes his heart break a little. switches sides with you again with a little feigned annoyance, but even when you insist you aren’t cold he convinces you to stay under the hot stream.

bf! intak who tries his best to cook for you, following recipes of foods you’ve liked to the very last detail. refuses to let you help, but will allow you to sit on the counter as his personal cheerleader so he can steal a kiss or two or ten as he works.

is so careful to measure everything right, letting you try it along the way (only after he’s approved of the taste himself). watches for your reaction so so eagerly and smiles SO big if you say it’s good.

bf! intak who loves being praised by you. sometimes even fishes for compliments because any kind of approval from makes his heart so full and makes him feel so loved! “don’t i look handsome today?” or “did i do a good job?”

whether you compliment his outfit or his looks, or you simply tell him thank you for something, he’s over the moon

bf! intak who is has such a huge heart and gives it over to you completely. it’s yours! so don’t break it. falls first and falls harder, from the very first moment he sees you is so whipped. willing to give you absolutely everything and anything you want.

is so gentle, so considerate, so caring, so intak.

truly your best friend & lover all in one.

[dumpywrites]

Two Days - Jungkook

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not?

Genre/tags: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, friends to lovers, biker jungkook, jungkook is a goofball and a simp! :)

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: this is my first ever bts/jk fic, I'm just trying this out since i have some days off from work, hope y'all like it <3

“Please?”

“No.” 

“You’re missing out.” 

“Jungkook, we’re literally in a Burger King.”

You heard the man playfully saying, “Yes, and?” in a singing tone. All you could do was rolling your eyes in reply. Jeon Jungkook, this guy who had been begging you for his so-called masterplan that he called, “trial date” for weeks, was now yet again begging you for a chance.

You could not exactly pinpoint when it actually began. He was shy the first time you met. You had known the rest of the boys ever since you met Yoongi at an art class. The cold looking guy who was surprisingly friendly and soft-hearted, later on introduced you to the rest of the guys. Jungkook was introduced almost a year later into befriending the group. He was a guy who went to the same gym as Namjoon. They became friends ever since he offered Namjoon a ride one time. 

Being the youngest amongst the guys and also the latest you got to meet, you would think that his shyness would linger at least a little bit longer. Then again, if you really think about it, he probably only stayed quiet and shy on the first meeting. 

The idea of both of you together was never mentioned until recently. Namjoon was the one who started calling out Jungkook’s odd behavior towards you, but the nail on the coffin was when you all got drunk at Jimin’s house that one time. 

It was Jimin’s birthday and truthfully, you knew the guy was loaded rich, but you did not know he was rich with capital R. The selection of bottles in his house was pretty much unlimited from the ones you like to the ones you couldn’t even name. It was five hours into all the celebration and you all were blurting nonsense. You were tipsy, but still aware cause for some reason you were winning all the games that night and got to drink less. But Jungkook on the other hand, who was usually winning everything, was getting pissy cause he kept coming second after you. 

“This is unbelievable.” Jungkook groaned, casually throwing the boardgame cards on the table. 

“You just have a soft spot for her.” Jin shrugged. 

“I do not! I just have a crush on her.” Jungkook retorted back, as if his sentence made any sense. 

You heard Hoseok voiced a small “oh” with his usual judgy expression, and the rest were silent for a second, including you. 

“I mean…” Jungkook tried to correct himself but stopped mid-way, trying to make up words in his already drunk mind. His eyes went back and forth to everyone before he scoffed. “You all act so surprised, as if you didn’t tease me everyday right after the first time I met Y/N.” 

When the room was still silent, Jungkook realized he fucked up, his blurry mind completely ignored the fact that you, the subject of this topic, was in fact also in the room. 

“Shit.” Was all he muttered before he excused himself to the bathroom, and did not come out for twenty minutes. 

When he was done, everyone had decided to wrap it up due to the awkwardness and the absence of Jungkook himself. He found Taehyung and Jin sleeping on both sides of Jimin’s big couch, and a small smile formed on his lips, shaking his head over the dumb expression they had in their sleep. His stomach soon flipped right after he saw you on the kitchen, making yourself a cup of instant noodle. 

“Oh, hey.” You greeted awkwardly. “I got hungry from all that drinking.” You shyly mentioned. 

Jungkook only nodded and took a seat on one of the dinning chairs. 

“You want some?” You offered, trying to break the ice. 

“Y/N stop.” His eyes widened once he realized how bad that sounded. “I mean… I didn’t mean it like that?” He chuckled dryly, it was more of a statement rather than a question. 

When you kept quiet but sat down next to him regardless, and ate your noodles, he decided you were at least comfortable enough to hear him talk. “This whole huge crush on you thingy… that’s not gonna ruin our friendship or anything, right? If you’re uncomfortable I’ll just stop showing up when you’re around for a—”

“What?! No! Jungkook, I’m not uncomfortable.” You sighed. “I’m just a bit surprised, I guess.”

“Why though?” He asked innocently, his big doe eyes looking straight at you, making you slightly nervous. 

“It’s just… you do realize you’re quite popular right?”

“What’s that gotta do with this situation?”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.” 

“You don’t get to decide that.”

That was the last civil conversation you had with him until he decided it was a good idea to cling to you almost every single day, pestering on the idea of this whole trial dating. Everyone other than Yoongi, who was neutral (read: don't really care enough to actually voice an opinion at the moment), was pretty much on board with his plan. You being single for a year now definitely did not help your case. They kept saying that you needed to lit up your dating engine again, so it wouldn’t be rusty. 

It was not that you did not find Jungkook attractive. Heck, he was one of the most attractive person you had ever laid your eyes on. It was just, weird? He felt like a brother, the same as the rest of the boys. If you didn’t treat any of them different, then you should not with Jungkook either, right?

“Have you maybe considered that maybe she’s tired of your bullshit?” Yoongi blurted with a blank expression, as he continue to munch on his burger. 

“It’s only been two weeks.” Jungkook protested. “Besides, you never know 'till you try, right?” He winked at you. 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m good, Kookie.” You pinched his cheeks, a little bit too hard. 

“H-hey!” He pouted, his cheeks forming even rounder. “Two days! Two days!” He suddenly shouted. 

“Oh boy…” Hoseok side-eyed the rest of you, clearly done with the younger one. 

“Give me two days, Y/N!” He said with his two fingers right in front of your face. “You don’t have plans this weekend, right?”

“Hey, maybe—“ Namjoon didn’t even get to finish his sentence before the lad interrupted. 

“I’ll take you on two dates and then you can decide afterwards.” He grinned, as if that was the most brilliant thing he had ever thought of. “If you still don’t like me after that then I will gracefully back off.” He threw his hands in the air. 

“You promise?” You suddenly spoke, after being silent for a while. 

“Wait, you’re actually considering—“ Jin stood up from his seat, almost knocking his table. 

Jungkook hurriedly covered Jin’s mouth, not letting yet another man finish his sentence again. “I promise!” He saluted, grinning so hard his cheeks almost hurt. 

“Are you really sure?” Yoongi whispered to you. 

You only shrugged. Truthfully, you were not sure either. But at this point, you just wanted Jungkook to get over his girl hyperfixation of the month. Which was, you. 

You just did not buy the story of him being head over heels on you since day one. As if he didn’t look like a Greek god himself? As if you did not know how women and even men would kill just to get a taste of him. You just wanted him to get it over with, so he can realize how weird the whole idea was and went back to being the goofball friend you once knew. 

—

Right, so.

Now here you were, basically having a mini dress-up montage moment, picking an outfit for your cinema date. Even after spending almost an hour getting ready you ended up with just wearing your usual crop top and baggy jeans, hoping it will be fine. Clearly you didn’t wanna seem like a try-hard. It was just Jungkook. He had seen you with pajamas and you didn’t hear him complain, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Why did you even go through the trouble to pick an outfit? You wondered yourself. 

Ten minutes later and Jungkook was already ringing your phone. 

“I’m at your lobby!” He exclaimed loudly over the phone. 

“You’re early.”

“Just can’t wait to see you.” You could not see his face, but you knew he was grinning like an idiot. “Hurry down! Oh, and bring your jacket.”

You didn’t expect him to came with a motorbike. A huge one not to mention. Something stirred in your stomach for a millisecond seeing him in a leather jacket. 

He took a spare helmet and innocently handed it to you. “Gotta make sure my girl is safe.” He sheepishly said. 

You tried your best to ignore the nickname, and spoke. “I didn’t know you ride a motorcycle.” You said, taking the helmet he gave in your hands. 

“I’m just too lazy to drive sometimes so I just lift on Hobi’s car.” He shrugged. “Why? Are you scared?” He teased. 

“Of course not.” You said and put on the helmet. You did not miss his small snickers when you struggle to hop on his Harley, having to grab him by his shoulders. 

“Okay, just wanna let you know, I drive like suuuuuper fast. So, you have to hug me to be safe!” He giggled. 

You rolled your eyes, even if he couldn’t see. “I’m just gonna head back upstairs...”

“Don’t be such a sourpuss.” He chuckled. “I’m a good driver, Namjoon approved! But you can grab onto my jacket if you want.” 

—

The movie was great. 

And that was a lie, cause truth to be told, you could barely focus on the plot. Every time you caught a glimpse of the boy next to you, his eyes were already looking at you. While it was true that you had not been dating for quite some time, you could feel your spidey-sense tingling, as if you were to turn your head towards him, something would happen. Thinking about it was not exactly the best thing for you.

“We’re getting ice cream.” Jungkook cheerfully said, as you both walked out the cinema. 

“That’s not a question?” You couldn’t help but to smile at the silliness. 

“Not a chance I’m letting you go home yet.” 

“Is this a date or a kidnapping?” 

“Could be both if you want.” He laughed. “So…” He cutely put his hands in his pockets as you walked. 

“So?”

“So… how’s life?” 

“You did not just ask me that.” You laughed.

“What? I’m just trying to make actual conversation!” He laughed as well, but later on his expression softened. “You seemed down these past couple of days though?” 

You tilted your head slightly. You didn’t think he would notice. 

“You… noticed?”

“Of course I did!” He grinned, patting his chest proudly. “You didn’t talk that much at our last movie night at Taehyung’s. You usually love to debate after watching a movie.” He chuckled. "The fact that you're not even starting a discussion right now, is lowkey concerning."

That was because of an entirely different thing, but you chose not to say. “I haven't even told Yoongi.” 

“Even if you tell him, he wouldn’t tell anyone either, so what’s your point?” 

“That’s fair.” You broke a small smile. 

“What happened?” He stopped mid-track, suddenly losing a bit of confidence in his speaking tone. “I mean, only if you’re comfortable enough to tell me…”

Your expression softened. “It’s a bit stupid…”

“It’s okay, I’ll listen!” He nodded towards you. “I’ll just quickly grab those ice cream and we’ll sit down somewhere?” 

Minutes later he came back with two ice creams and a big stupid grin plastered on his face as usual. “Here you go, let’s sit down on that bench.”

You nodded and thanked him before following him to the bench. 

“Come sit close to me!” He patted right next to him. When you only looked at him blankly. He added, “Please?”

You sat down close to him but left a bit of space enough so that your shoulders wouldn’t touch. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Uh… no.”

“Okay, good.” He smiled and took a big bite of his ice cream. “So, do you still wanna tell me? Or we could also just sit and talk shit about Jin while we eat ice cream if you don’t want!”

You smiled. Looking into his eyes, you could feel his sincerity. It could be just you, but you felt somewhat… safe. 

“I used to date this one guy… We dated for three months before I ended things with him.” 

You looked up to Jungkook, expecting to see a negative expression but he remained silent, only nodding to signal you to continue. 

“To be fair we haven’t been in touch for almost a year, but he suddenly called me. He was drunk and said a bunch of nonsense. I still replied at first, cause I was worried for his safety. But after I found out he was drunk at home, I bid my goodbye. Then he suddenly said…” You took a deep breath. “He said that I’m a 4.5 with a bitch attitude and being picky won’t help me.” You broke into a sad grin. “It’s stupid, I know—“

“Who is this fucker? Can I beat the shit outta him? How come I’ve never heard about this?!”

“Probably cause this is how you react.” You chuckled. “It had me quite bothered for quite sometime, maybe the fact that I also haven’t dated in a while adds to it, but I guess I feel somewhat better now.” 

“So that’s why you said you thought you weren’t my type?” 

“Huh?”

“That fucker needs to get his eyes and brain checked.” He shook his head. “You know, it’s fine to not want to settle for less.” He said as he looked at the sun setting in the sky. “He’s just butthurt you don’t want him back.” 

You stayed silent but nodded.

“His dick’s probably small anyway.” When you slapped his arm, he laughed. “What? Am I wrong? Why did you even break up with him?”

“He's sexist!”

“And his dick is small.” He followed. 

“Jungkook!” You began to laugh as well. 

“You know you’re easily a ten, but I’ll give a nine for now.” He said, pretending to be serious with rubbing his chin and squinting his eyes. 

“Why? What deduct the one point?”

“Cause you haven’t like me back yet.” 

“God, make that at least five points then, I hate you.” You rolled your eyes, but laughed. 

He smiled softly. “Feeling better?” 

“Well, I guess? But now my ice cream's all melty.” You pouted, trying to lick some that was melting down the cone. 

“That’s why you eat fast like me.” He proudly said. 

“And have stomach problem? No thanks.”

“Here let me just…” He licked a stripe from your cone and took a big bite. “There.”

You were taken aback. So stunned that you could only blink a few times at him. 

“What? Don’t tell me that turned you on?” He smirked. 

“You… Jungkook, that’s gross!” You whined, which only resulted in his laughter. 

—

The next day Jungkook wanted a full day date. Boy kept saying that he wanted fair chance since it was his last day. He already planned a list of things both of you would do and all, and the first being eating brunch with you. 

“Do you really have to come this early?” You complained as you opened your apartment door for the guy. 

When the said guy sheepishly didn’t move and enter, you raised one of your eyebrows. His hands were behind his back, clearly holding something, and you can see both of his arms flexed, seemingly grasping something tightly. You were searching for his boyish grin, but his expression seemed worried instead. 

“I got you flowers.” He said, sounding discouraged. 

“Oh?” You replied, but wondered why he just kept standing and not move. 

“I found out last minute that you don’t like flowers…” He frowned. “Yoongi told me in the group chat after I got too excited and sent them a pic of the flowers I got you.”

He looked like a lost puppy, and suddenly you had the urge to hug him to ease all his pain away. You stopped yourself before the impulse got the best of you and you grabbed him by the forearm, dragging him inside and closing the door. 

“You can’t stay in that position the whole day, you have to hand me the flowers.” You folded your arms, trying to hold in a chuckle. 

“But you don’t like them!”

“I haven’t even seen them.”

He finally moved his hands and revealed a small bouquet of fresh daisies. It was a simple bouquet, nothing too extravagant with a brown wrapping paper. It somehow reminded you of his smile and how radiant he looked when he did so. Yes, you did not like flowers, they were unpractical, it felt like an unnecessary addition, a waste of space. But somehow you like it. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy and it was very pleasant. It made you wanna accept it with open arms. Truthfully, the description did not really feel like it was describing flowers anymore, but you decided to not further ponder on it. 

“Thank you.” You took the flowers and sniffed it, before setting it down on your table. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t know, I feel so dumb cause everyone knew already and—“

“Hey, we’ve only known each other for three months.” You assured. “Besides, it’s really not much of a big deal, I actually like them.” 

“You do???”

“Yeah, they look pretty. I don’t know how long I can keep them looking like that though.” 

“Oh my god…” He exhaled deeply. “I was so worried it would be a deal breaker or something. I was literally shaking!”

He laughed and showed his right hand in front of you, it was shaking slightly. You didn’t know why he laughed at it, you didn’t find it funny. 

“It happens sometimes when I’m nervous.” He chuckled. 

Instead of saying something, you took his hand into yours just by intuitive. It was impulsive, but you let go before he had the chance to intertwine his fingers with yours. He didn’t comment on your behavior, but a smile was still on his face as he waited for you to grab your things to go. 

The brunch was on this small cafe near your place. You insisted on paying this time, since he paid for yesterday. The brunch was spent with him trying to sneakily hold your hand, but failed every single time. 

Next activity on the list was buying clothes together. As cringey as that sounded, and you even almost opposed the idea, Jungkook said that he needed to buy new outfit and he wanted to hear your feedback. Plus, some of his clothes barely fit him anymore since he decided to become a gym rat. 

“You actually look great in those skirt.” 

“You’re joking.” You denied, but twirled around in front of the mirror anyway, while trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need the purchase. 

“I’ll buy them for you if you won’t.” 

“We didn’t have all those money-saving talk with Namjoon only for you to say that.” You folded your arms. 

“Oh come on, you look great!” He pointed to you and his lips forming into a small pout. “Besides, we’re on a date today so I think that’s a pretty good excuse.” 

“I thought we are here to help you buy some clothes, not buy me skirt that I probably won’t wear that often.” 

“Let me spoil you for once… please?” He begged, eyes all sparkly. His lips shined along with his two lip piercings. 

“Alright, fine... I’ll get the skirt, but!” You eyed him. “Only if you buy that straight-cut jeans you just tried before.”

“Deal.”

“That’s it? You’re not gonna argue on how those aren’t on trend anymore?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I was gonna buy them anyways. You were practically drooling when I showed you.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. “Kinda was just waiting for you to admit it…”

You only rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t open your lips to deny his words either. 

After you changed back into your clothes and Jungkook paid for the purchases, he went back to you with a sly grin on his face and you immediately suspected something. He came back with a pair of matching string bracelet. 

“You can just not wear them later if you don’t want to, but let me be delusional for today, okay?”

You both left the store after you let him put the bracelet on your wrist. 

Next in line was spending time on a local amusement park. It was nothing too extreme, just a small carnival that has a few rides and snack booths. The guy kept insisting that you both should take a picture when the sun set. 

“Cotton candy!” Jungkook sprinted to the booth like a hungry kid, his laughter could be heard even as him getting far from where you were standing. 

You shook your head, smiling to yourself as you walked to his direction. 

“Pink, blue, or green?” 

“Blue, maybe?”

“Alright.” He grinned and paid the seller as they handed the blue cotton candy stick. “Why blue though?” 

“Dunno, just kinda matches your outfit.”

“Sweetheart, I’m wearing jeans and a plain white t-shirt.” He giggled. 

Which should be a crime! Cause who even looks that good in a basic white t-shirt??? You thought to yourself. “Your jeans, I guess..?”

“If you say so.” He chuckled. “Wanna ride the ferris wheel?”

“Being in a such small space with you sounds dangerous.” 

“I’ll protect you, babe.” He winked. 

“The danger is you, babe.” You mocked. 

He smirked, clearly amused. “Well, at least I got you to call me babe, that’s a win for me.” 

“You’re anno— hmph!” He stuffed a ball of cotton candy in your mouth, laughing continuously at the sight. 

After wandering around for a while and finishing the cotton candy, Jungkook dragged you to the shooting game. You refused, saying how you never really win these kind of games, but knowing him, losing was never really his thing. You saw how big the main prize was and you know Jungkook, you knew his ego, you knew damn well that was what he was aiming. 

“If you’re aiming for that giant teddy bear, don’t. We can’t carry that thing around...”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” He didn’t listen and instead paid for the game tickets. 

“We can’t carry that in your motorcycle, that’s like another passenger!”

“Just watch me.” He smirked, already aiming with the toy gun. 

You rolled your eyes, there’s really no telling him on this. “Fine, whatever.” 

After just two shots, you hear him jump in celebration, fist in the air and the staff rang the bell for him winning the price. You were ready to complain, but the staff handed you a small frog plushie instead. You looked at Jungkook and saw his boyish grin, his eyes almost turned into crescents. You looked back at the plushie in your hands and couldn’t lie to yourself, it was very adorable. 

“You didn’t aim for the grand prize?”

“You told me not to.” He shrugged. “Plus, you like frogs, right?”

“Well…” 

“I wished I took a picture of your expression when they handed you the plushie.” He laughed, a soft blush decorating his cheeks. 

You finally agreed to ride the ferris wheel with him. The park was going to close in an hour anyway, and you thought why not, it wouldn’t hurt anyone to go for one ride. 

You sat across him, hugging the frog plushie on your lap. It was silent for the first few minutes, but it was comfortable, not awkward. You were just looking at the view from above and silently admiring it. 

“Did you have fun?” He asked. Suddenly your attention went back to him and his smile. 

“Well, yeah… I did.” You nodded. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, I had fun too.” He smiled. “Everything’s fun with you though so I may be biased…” 

You didn’t really know what to say to counter his words. You just smiled and went back to looking at the window. 

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

“Uh… sure. Just be careful, you might tilt the cart.” 

Jungkook carefully moved to sit next to you. He muttered a small “phew” as he sat down. “Wow, the view’s better here.” He said, looking straight at you. 

“What do you mean? How—” And then it clicked to you. “Oh my god… shut up!” You hit his arm, and he laughed. 

“Take my compliment for once!” 

“Never.” You stuck your tongue out. 

The ride soon came to an end. You remembered that you promised Jungkook to take a picture with the sunset, but out of nowhere it started to rain. Although it was just small drizzle, it’s hard to take picture and avoid getting soaked at the same time. You both ran to the nearest sheltered place, with Jungkook’s leather jacket covering both of you. 

You said your sorry about his now wet jacket, but the boy did not seem to be bothered, as you can see how bright and happy he was, just from running with you under the rain. You sighed, but an idea came to you as soon as you saw a photo booth machine, not far from where you were standing. 

“Do you… maybe wanna do that instead?”

“Photobooth?” He looked at you, as if he couldn’t believe your words. 

“Why? You don’t want to?”

“No! I want to!” He said, almost too quickly. “But it’s just weird that you suggest it. But it’s a good weird!” He chuckled. 

“I promised you a picture, so we’re getting a picture.” 

“Aww.” Jungkook pout his lips in a kissy way, teasing you. 

“Let’s go before I regret it.” You dragged him inside the booth. 

The first pose you playfully put peace signs behind Jungkook’s head, giving him bunny ears, while he only stuck out his tongue. The second one, Jungkook made a love sign with both of his hands, and you surprised him with a middle finger, which he yelled at you afterwards, but couldn’t really continue to complain as the countdown for the next photo were already starting. 

Since Jungkook spent at least three and a half seconds with his protest, you both were panicking for the last picture, running out of ideas. As the countdown stating two, he suddenly pulled you closer and leaned on your shoulder. The shutter flashed and the photo was taken. You were still in awe and couldn’t process what just happened. You only followed when you saw Jungkook making his way out from the booth to collect the picture. 

The guy giggled like a highschool boy, taking the printed photos, then giving one copy to you. You stared at the last picture, how genuine Jungkook’s smile when he leaned on your shoulder, while you had your eyes widened in surprise. You felt your face heating in embarrassment. 

“Ugh… can we just cut out the last picture?” 

“I was thinking the same thing, I’m putting it on my wallet!” He said, eyes still looking up and down on the set of photos. 

When you only looked at him in disbelief, he uttered a small “what?”, and laughed. 

Both of you ended up eating some cups of ramen in a nearby convenience store, as you wait for the rain to stop pouring. He took you home right after, insisting on waking you to your door. 

“Take care of little Kookie for me, yeah?” He said, pointing at your frog plushie, as you stopped at your unit’s front door. 

“Why is he named after you?” You chuckled. 

“I’m his father!” He pretended to be offended.

“Well, say bye to your papa now, little Kookie.” You waved the plushie’s small hand to him. 

Jungkook felt his heart somersault. He turned away for a second, covering his mouth. He cleared his throat. “Well, uh… thank you again, for today…”

“Yeah! Thank you too…” You chewed your inner lips, hugging your plushie close. 

“I uh…” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. “I just wanna let you know that what I said to you… about deciding whether you like me or not after the dates… I was just saying stuff. I don’t wanna pressure you into deciding your feelings for me or anything, I genuinely just wanna spend some time with you, and I’m thankful for your time.” 

You nodded, smiling at him. Your eyes locked with each other for a quick second. Your heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was the moonlight, or the lamp in front of your door that you recently just got replaced. Either way, you could see the stars in Jungkook’s eyes and his skin glowed, but so did his lips. They were practically sparkling and glossy, you wondered if he had put any lip balm over it. For a moment, your attention stopped at his lips, just wondering how it would feel against yours. Would it be soft? Would you feel the cold metal of his lip piercing against your skin? 

The man in front of you seemed to be lost in his thoughts as well. You swore you saw his eyes darted to your lips for a quick glance, before coming back to your eyes. Just when he leaned down a bit to your height level… 

You froze. What was that? You felt your stomach turned, you couldn’t exactly point out whether it was due to nervousness, or if you were simply just afraid. You took a step back and your back almost hit the front door.

“You should head back, it could rain again soon…” You said, looking away. 

“Oh.” There was disappointment in his voice. “Okay then… bye.” He waved to you awkwardly and walked away. 

As you see his figure walking away, you went inside your apartment and closed the door behind you. Sitting down on your sofa, you put your hand over your chest. Funny how your heart was still beating so fast. You were panicking, feeling everything all at once. Nervousness, excitement, curiosity, but mostly fright. The unknown territory was making you scared. The new feelings you were feeling, you didn’t even know if it would be okay to feel it. 

Still laying down on your sofa, you took your phone and dialed your best friend. 

“You called.” You heard Yoongi’s voice from the other line. 

“Why are you saying it like that.” 

“You only call when you’re stressing over something, otherwise, you only text.” 

You hate how smart and observant your friend was sometimes. “I think I feel something for Jungkook.” 

“Isn’t that… I don’t know, good?” 

“I don’t know… it just hit me like a truck, okay? One minute I wanna punch that stupid grin out of his face, the next thing I know, his lips looked so shiny and he got me wondering if his piercings would feel cold against my lips.” 

“Okay, wow.” Yoongi said in amusement. “Care to elaborate?”

“What if I’m just… super horny or something? I mean I haven’t been with anyone for like god knows how long now, and I could just be desperate and Jungkook is good looking, extremely good looking may I add, and—“

“Okay, okay… Y/N, pause for a second.” Yoongi sighed. “So you think you might be just horny and you feel bad for it?”

“Of course I feel bad! I don’t wanna use Jungkook like that! Just because he has this stupid crush on me, doesn’t mean I can do whatever I want with him. I’m not that kind of person!” You exclaimed, the volume of your voice getting slightly higher. 

“Tell me, how do you feel after the dates? Did you enjoy it?”

“Well yeah, I had a great time actually. I didn’t expect Jungkook to be that caring, and he’s actually very good at initiating conversation…” You wondered what else you could point out. 

“During that time, did Jungkook mention or do anything sexual?” 

“N-no! Of course not! Yoongi, do you take me as the fuck-on-the-first-date kind of person???” You said, slightly offended.

“So you like him.” He stated casually. 

“I’m sorry?”

“You caught feelings. Just admit that Jungkook has officially win you over.”

“I… what…” 

“I knew it. I shouldn’t have let you go on those dates, now both of you are gonna be so gross when we hang out...” You heard your friend groaned. 

“I like him?” You asked, more to yourself rather than to your best friend. 

“Maybe you should call Jungkook instead and tell him.”

You widened your eyes in horror. “No way, that guy only has a crush on me, it’s more of a hyperfixation, like I’m his girl of the month or something. I’m sure it’s not like how you think it is.”

“You should ask him yourself instead of making assumptions, just saying. And you know…” Yoongi paused for a second before continuing. “I think that kid is actually a good person, despite how dumb and annoying he looks.” When he got no respond from you, he spoke again. “Alright, I’ll leave you with your thoughts, just make sure you’ll talk with him about this, okay? Take care, Y/N.” 

Yoongi hang up the call while you were still sitting down, expression blank, staring at the wall in front of you. 

—

Jungkook didn’t text you at all after the date. Not like you text each other regularly, but you lowkey expected him to after. You wanted to call him, or at least text him. You wanted to say how you feel but you were again, scared. You began to think if you were reading it wrong. He was popular, you wondered if he just acted like that to everyone, if you were catching feelings, while he just wanted to hang out and have a bit of fun. After all, he never really explicitly said that he had feelings for you, all you knew that he admitted his giant crush for you while being under the influence of alcohol. 

You never hear from Jungkook again until the next week. Hoseok invited you all to game night over his place. You wanted so badly to bail and fake being sick, but Yoongi picked you up, basically forcing you to come and face your problem like an actual adult.

With all these new and mixed emotions that you were still getting used to, the thought of seeing Jungkook in person sounded so overwhelming. He would probably just act like how he usually would, because of course, why wouldn’t he. After all you were the one who suddenly took a weird turn.

“Finally!” Hoseok shouted, as he opened the door for both of you and Yoongi. 

“Come on, switch with Namjoon, he sucks!” Jin spoke while his eyes still not leaving the TV screen and his fingers loud against the controller. 

They were playing Tekken 8 on Hoseok’s Playstation. You saw how Namjoon was basically getting his ass kicked, playing as a Panda character, while Jin quickly leading himself towards victory using the character that coincidentally has the same name as him. 

Jin Kazama wins. 

The oldest one screamed happily, while Namjoon’s protests and excuses could be heard very loudly. Everyone laughed at the two, so it was easy to spot the one who didn’t laugh as much, whose expression didn’t hold that much excitement, sitting on the edge of the sofa just playing with his phone instead. 

“Y/N, come on!” Jin patted the on the carpet to the now empty seat next to him, since Namjoon already excused himself to get more popsicles from the fridge. 

You followed and sat down next to Jin on the carpet, which was directly in front of Jungkook, who was slouching on the couch. 

Sitting down quietly, you took the controller and beginning to scroll through the rooster of characters. You chose the character named Lili, while Jin stayed with his current main. 

When you beat Jin and the sound of your friends cheering loudly was heard, you began to feel a little bit relaxed, at the very least you could forget for a moment about your situation with Jungkook. That was until, you heard Yoongi spoke. 

“Jungkook, your turn.” 

You immediately turned your head towards your best friend, eyeing him straight. How could he betray you like this was beyond you. 

“Nah, you play I’m not really in the mood.” He rejected politely.

Your eyes went back to the screen because you refused to see Jungkook’s expression. You pretended to busy yourself pressing the dpad button up and down on the character choices. 

“This is the first time I’ve ever heard Jungkook refusing a match.” Taehyung said while munching on his potato chips. 

“Yeah, that’s so unlike you, man!” Hobi joined. “Come on, we all know you’re good, but Y/N doesn’t know that yet!” He added. 

A small groan came out from Jungkook’s mouth before he stood up, and once again everyone cheered. Jin stood to switch seats with him. The man locked his eyes with you once, before sitting down and picking up the controller in his hand. He didn’t take too long picking a character. His choice landed on a boxer character. 

The match went quietly with only the sound of the video game from the speaker. Your friends behind you somehow went silent as well, and the atmosphere in the room became very tense. 

“Is it just me or it kinda feels like they’re actually fighting with each other…” Jin whispered to Hoseok who was sitting next to him. Hoseok only signaled with his hand shaking next to his neck to cut it out, while the rest only widened their eyes and try their best not to make any comment. 

You pretended like you did not hear any of it and kept mashing the controller buttons. The milliseconds of your attention being taken away from the game gave your opponent a leaway to break your combo and finally beating down your character. 

Steve Fox wins. 

“All right, Yoongi you switch with me, I’m gonna go get some air.” You excused yourself and headed to the balcony, closing the door behind you. 

Technically it was not a lie. It just got a bit stuffy with eight people inside an apartment living room. Especially when the guy you suddenly had feelings for was in the equation as well. 

You searched your back pocket for your pod and cursed silently when it was nowhere inside your jeans pocket. 

“Looking for your vape?” Jungkook entered the balcony uninvited, wiggling your small disposable vape pod in front of you. But when you were about to take it from him, he withdrew his hand. “I thought you’ve stopped.”

“I did. I only do it when I’m nervous. That’s why it’s a disposable.” You said weakly. 

“I noticed.” He replied in a monotone, now pocketing the pod inside his pants, refusing to give it to you. 

“You smoke, don’t act all high.” You retorted. 

“Well, have you seen me smoke these past few weeks?” 

“No, actually… yeah, now that I think of it, you didn’t even smoke once when we went out—“ You stopped when the memories of your date went through your head. “Jungkook, about that…” You bit your lips, nervously facing him. 

He also turned his body to your direction, looking at you directly. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly said. 

“Huh? For what?” 

“I feel like I’ve pressured you into something you don’t actually want. I’ve been thinking and re-thinking about it the past few days and it drives me crazy. I may have feelings for you, but that doesn’t give me the right to drag you along to do stuff with me just because you enjoyed spending time with me as a friend.”

“Wait, Jungkook, I don’t feel that way!”

“I know! That’s why I apologize—“

“No! I mean, I didn’t feel like you dragged me along or anything. I genuinely enjoyed our date and…” You looked away, taking a deep breath before continuing. “If I’m not reading it wrong, you’re saying you truly have feelings for me?” 

“Isn’t that obvious already?” 

“Well, I thought I was just your girl obsession of the week or something… You have celebrity crushes left and right, okay?! Hell, you even had a crush on Namjoon at one point!!!” 

“The Namjoon crush was a joke. Man just got some nice thighs and I was just admiring it.” He defended. 

You took another deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry as well… the emotions were all just come clashing to me at once and I just told you to go home instead of dealing with it.” 

“But, you rejected my kiss...” He said with a weak voice, you almost didn’t catch it. 

“Cause I haven’t figured out what I want yet. I thought I was just so touch deprived that your lips looked inviting that day.” You admitted while cursing yourself secretly inside your mind. That was lowkey embarrassing. 

“Try being me, your lips look inviting every single day!” He exclaimed, his mood now seemed to be improving. 

“Be serious.” You hit his sides. He muttered an “ow” but you doubted it even hurt the slightest bit. 

“So now you’ve figured out what you want?” His doe eyes looking at you directly. 

“I’m getting there… I guess.” You broke the eye contact, it was a bit too much for you and suddenly you felt a bit sweaty. “But I think I like you too.” 

“Say that again while looking at me.” 

“Hell no.” You suddenly covered your face with both of your hands. 

“Please?” He grabbed your wrists, softly trying to prey open your hands. “I just want to have the visual memory of it captured in my brain.”

When you finally loosened your grip, he took his chance and held both of your hands in his. He grabbed them for a few seconds, intertwining his fingers with yours, before letting them go. He traced his fingers along your right wrist where you wore the bracelet that he got you, the one he got matching with his, and then moved his hands up to cup your face. The entire time he did all that, you could actually feel the shakiness in his hands, and it melted your heart. 

“Can I?”

You nodded and he did not waste any second before dipping in and closing the gap between you. 

Oh boy you were right, his piercings did feel cold against your lips, but that was only for a quick second before everything felt warm and soft, and your mind became blurry. You were moving your lips against his carefully, afraid to accidentally hurt him by his piercing, but instead earned a small bite on your bottom lip from Jungkook. You gasped and pulled away, hitting his chest. Since when were you in his embrace? That you did not know. 

“We gotta head back now or they’ll get suspicious.”

He giggled and kissed your forehead. “They’re already suspicious, babe.” 

“Still, we gotta head back…”

“You guys done making out?! We’re hungry!!!” You heard Jimin shouted from inside the apartment. 

Jungkook and you looked at each other with widened eyes, before laughing in unison. He pecked you on the lips one more time before running back inside with you, holding hands. 

Thank you for reading! 🌸

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[adelheidvonschicksal]

♡♡♡♡♡ Say It Again ♡♡♡♡♡

Summary: If Megumi could make a list of the things he hates in this world, his name would probably be at the very top. When it comes from you though, well, it's not so bad.

Tags: Megumi x F!Reader, smut, vanilla, Megumi is a sap lowkey

Megumi hates a lot of things. He isn’t a fan of sweets unless they’re accompanied by the spice of ginger to wash away the overly sugary, sticky residue on his tongue. He isn’t fond of crowds either, choosing to keep his circle small and even then he prefers to observe rather than be in the thick of his friends’ misadventures. Constantly, perhaps too much, he finds himself rolling his eyes at the strange trends they talk him into. That’s only to name a few. There’s a never-ending list of big and small grievances about the world he could make if given the time and energy to think; and if you ask him what’s at the top of that list, it’d probably be his name.

“Megumi” sounds so explicitly feminine rolling off the tongue--a name for every other female television character nowadays. It can be an irritation at times when Gojo says it in that singsong voice that makes his shoulders rear up and his brain prep for whatever annoyance will follow. He hated the way his teachers would sometimes call for him in that obnoxious, scolding tone whenever he’d crack his fist over the face of whatever asshole decided to piss him off. Mostly, Megumi hates that it makes him think about the man who gave it to him with so little regard for his gender.

He prefers “Fushiguro” even if he still shares that name with a father whose face is nothing but a bleary oil-curdled puddle on the crumbling edge of his memory. It’s the name he shares with Tsumiki and that separates him from the Zen’in clan. It’s the name he was allowed to keep thanks to Gojo’s intervention. When he thinks about it like that then “Fushiguro” isn’t so bad.

“Me-Megumi.”

Ah.

There are a few times where he likes his first name, he supposes.

None more so than when it’s fracturing off your kiss-swollen lips, groaning from so deep in your chest that it curls like a purr in the stifling air surrounding him. It always manages to sound good from you, enough that his concentration breaks when he hears it.

He remembers the first time you said it back in your school years.

The simple “Good morning, Megumi” rang in his ears and imprinted in his brain as the gears in his mind slowed and the beating of his heart skipped. He learned the difference between the chipper call of your voice after a good night’s sleep and the drowsy drawl, almost like a whisper as you rubbed your shadowed eyes after a rough night.

It was like a dose of milk and honey each time, making him grumble less and less and want it more and more. He savored it. Somehow, he did, between his anti-socialness and ever-growing list of things he hates with his name at the very top. He should’ve bottled it up and saved it for those long missions where he didn’t get to see you in what felt like forever. Instead, he stubbornly suppressed his feelings against his better judgment, trying and failing to ignore them.

It's fine though because it worked out; somehow, it did.

Now when you say it, it causes his hips to stutter between your legs as he grinds you into the mattress. You don’t seem to mind though because his cock rocks against you in just the right way that the flimsy piece of underwear separating the two of you cease to matter.

He gets to hear it singing from your mouth as he slips his fingers from your chest and shoves them past the band of your underwear. And he can tell you need him just from how easy it is to collect your cum and glide his fingers between your lips in the same familiar tempo that leaves your quivering and whining into his shoulder—your warm voice sinking into him—caught between begging him to stop and asking for more with those sweet pleas of “Megumi, not there” to “please please please, Megumi”.

Taking advantage of the golden opportunity, he slides his tongue into your mouth, savoring the origin of those cute, honeyed whimpers. It’s an acquired taste because he hates sweets but you’re undeniably an exception to the rule because you taste as saccharine to hungry tastebuds as you sounded.

And he’s become greedy for it, especially after those same long missions that used to plague him and on those rarer quiet nights with you. He would never give it up if he had the choice; never give anyone else the opportunity to enjoy it, let alone try it.

“Megumi, do you want to go out with me—like on a date?” you said it softly and nervously with a finger bitten between your teeth, eyes down, afraid to look him in the eye, as if he could possibly reject you.

You moan into his mouth as his fingers curve inside of you, eagerly racing towards their destination; your face contorts and moans pour out when he reaches it, but it isn’t what he wants. It isn’t good enough even as you arch into his hand and throw your head back.

"I really like you, Megumi."

He wanted it. He wanted to hear you say it like you did back then, with all the affection the world could hold. He can’t be satisfied unless you do. He’s willing to work for it; he always does, craving to make you feel good, to make it worth choosing him.

In one fluid motion, the world melts away when he snags aside your clothes and enters you in a single smooth thrust.

“Megumi!”

That was it.

He presses his hand down on your stomach, adding pressure to the rush you were feeling as he plunges and holds his cock deep inside you. You were already close before he even started, have been close long before he pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in.

Your hand tightens on his shoulder and nails imprint into his skin. Your mouth cracks open in a broken cry, which ends with trembling pants that hiccup again and again as he slowly pulls back and thrusts back into you, trying to ring out those few sweet seconds where your mind is far gone and his every demand willing to be filled.

Megumi huffs against your neck. He’s almost there, and the familiar edging of his climax builds in him as he buries his head into your neck. Closing his eyes, he chases his climax, the one threatening to burst with each whimper of his name.

“Say it again," he grunts out.

And you do, so prettily, so softly, and all for him. It sends him tumbling over that edge with no effort, leaving you both breathless, sweating, and covered with the smell of it all as you gaze at each other. Your hand climbs up the back of his neck and breaches the lining of his hair. You smile, tired yet blissful.

“Megumi,” you say, and his heart skips a beat. An experience he has all too regularly with you – only you. “I love you.”

It takes a while to soak the words in; he needs time to carefully store the feeling, the way the sound escapes like syrup from your mouth, and the sugary residue of those feelings sticks to every crevice of his soul like candy on his tongue. When he finally does, Megumi thinks once again that maybe his name isn’t so bad.

“I love you too.”

[iimplicitt]

GOOD LOOKING | OP81

pairings: oscar piastri x singer girlfriend! unnamed fem character (faceclaim suki waterhouse)

summary: oscar and his girlfriend had been dating for a while now, and what better way to hard launch their relationship than on her debut concert of her tour?

warnings: intense public make out, kind of an inappropriate time to have a boner but oscar isn’t exactly thinking straight, social media posts at the end

song inspo: good looking by suki waterhouse

wc: 2.8k

requests open!!

The roar of the crowd could be heard as the lights dimmed in the venue. Thousands of people cheered, all for her and the moment felt so surreal she thought about pinching herself. This was her biggest show yet, the debut of her tour after her album had blown up in the charts. Something she was beyond grateful for but she was terrified she wouldn’t be able to handle it.

So many stars burned out.

“Hey,” a hand ran comforting circles into her lower back.

Turning, her anxiety melted away easily as her boyfriend smiled down at her. His presence was always comforting with no words even needing to be spoken. He had helped keep her head grounded as fame started to pile itself quickly on top of her, given he had plenty of experience.

Formula One drivers don’t exactly have the luxury of flying under the radar. But his experience was helpful in easing her worries, teaching her how to tune everything out and still experience all the great parts it offered.

If she thought an arena of a few thousand was big, Oscar probably considered this a small scale meet and greet given his race weekends got up to around 300,000 people. She wasn’t sure how he adjusted so well, but maybe his stardom was more gradual as he moved up the leagues as he got older.

For her, it felt like she went to bed one day unknown and woke up the next with her face plastered on the side of buildings.

Still, Oscar was private. He went to as many of her shows as he was able to given his schedule was full for a good chunk of the year. It was difficult, but worth all the tears and stress.

Usually he was hidden away, sticking to the shadows to give his support. Although they’ve been dating for well over a three years now, they were very good at hiding it. Their work schedules being almost completely incompatible helped and there weren’t even the faintest of whispers on any gossip sites or accounts.

Tonight though, he made it adamant he wanted to be there for her first big night, headlining her own tour and the way he looked at her with such pride in his eyes made her feel like she was melting through the floor.

He was heaven sent, she was sure of it.

She had been going through hell, one of the worst break ups. The kind that made it feel like her heart was rotting out of her chest and she couldn’t breathe, even after months the pain and second guessing was there. Even if she no longer cared about her ex anymore, the thought of not feeling like enough for someone was brutal. The feeling of not being wanted by someone she considered to be her whole world shattering reality at its edges.

Being cheated on felt like hell. It was hell. Burning her up and killing her slowly.

All the sleepless nights blaming herself, wondering what she had done wrong to make him lose interest. Wondering what was the first day his eyes wandered and why hadn’t she noticed?

The pain was numbing, making it feel as if she was constantly flat lining as insecurities pummeled her into the ground. She lost her job and had been singing at bars and clubs across London, living out of her car and wondering when life would pick up again.

Then one night he walked in, watching her as if her voice was breaking him down as it poured out from the speakers. She couldn’t help but blush, something about him just felt different. Men stared at her all the time, but with him… when their eyes locked that weight in her chest lifted and it felt like she could breathe again.

After her show was done she lingered, keeping him in her peripheral vision as she drank and waited for him to come and talk to her. A few times she’d catch him looking, but then he’d quickly turn away and start talking to his group of friends again.

Eventually it got too late, her eyes dry with exhaustion and the streets a little uneasy.

Part of her couldn’t let it go though, maybe he was just shy. But that feeling in her chest said to at least try.

So she walked up to him, watching as his eyes perked up and a blush redding his cheeks. She didn’t spare his friends a glance as she crossed her arms, “you’re an idiot.”

He blinked at her, also ignoring his friends as they laughed at him behind their hands. “Sorry?”

The stranger sounded Australian and her knees went a little weak. “I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to come up and talk to me but now I have to leave.”

He stammered over his words and she couldn’t help but smile as she dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out the bar napkin she had scribbled her number on. “Here, if courage finds you.” Dropping it in his lap, she sent him a wink before turning on his heels. Feeling a false sense of confidence but hoping something would bloom into fruition.

She had barely made it down the street when she heard him call out for her. Turning, she watched as he jogged up, napkin in hand. “Let me walk you home.”

Biting her lip, she looked away, slightly embarrassed. “That’s a little complicated.”

His brows furrowed, but before he could ask what she meant she clicked the key fob of her car and the lights of the beaten down four door parked on the side of the street lit up. He still looked a little confused so she shrugged, “makes for a short commute.”

Understating washed over him and he shook his head. “You are not sleeping in your car.”

“Then where do you suggest I sleep?” The question hung in the air as they stared at each other, the city traffic fading into white noise. His cologne wafted in the air, smelling like sea salt and sandalwood and she thought she could fall into an haze reminiscent of being doped up on opium.

He licked at his bottom lip as he considered her for a moment before holding out his hand, “I’m Oscar.”

Shaking it, his skin was rough and warm. Making a comforting shiver run a commotion on each of her nerve endings. “It’s very nice to meet you, but you haven’t answered my question.”

Maybe three martinis was too much because she was being much more bold than she was used to.

He didn’t hesitate. “Come back to my place.”

Maybe she hadn’t been in her right mind. Any normal person would have approached the offer with suspicion but from that night on the rest had been history.

He made her dinner and let her take his bed, a complete gentleman and when she woke up to the smell of coffee and burnt pancakes she knew she was done for.

Now there they were, both their careers taking off in ways that seemed like outlandish dreams.

However, she noticed as he shifted a bit on his feet and tugged at his sleeves. He was nervous, that much was obvious and she frowned. Oscar was used to being in the spotlight but perhaps what the stage director had suggested was a bit too much of a hard launch.

“You don’t have to do this, you know? It’s completely fine—“

“What? No, it’s not that.” He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her and she slotted into his hold easily. Nestling her head under his chin and wrapping her arms around him, letting the beat of his heart calm her. “Well, it’s a little bit of that but it’s just because I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She laughed lightly. “What? Never made out with someone in front of thousands of people?”

He hummed, “have to say it’s a first for me.”

Tilting her head back to look at him, she took in the way his eyes seemed to glow as he gazed down at her. She never felt any doubt with him. Complete and utter security in the form of another person felt like life had renewed itself.

“If you’re not comfortable doing it, then we won’t. I don’t want to push you.”

Oscar shook his head, brushing the hair out of her face before cupping the side of her head gently. “I want to.”

Lexi approached them then, clipboard in hand and a headpiece perched on her head. “They’re ready for you two on the platform. I’ll signal you when it’s time.”

The couple nodded and Oscar took her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as they maneuvered their way under the stage to get onto the rising platform.

They stood on their marks facing each other, with each breath their chests brushed and as their eyes met they couldn’t help but laugh. This was probably one of the most ridiculous things they had never done.

Lexi came back up to them. “Okay so, rundown. You two are going at it, make it raunchy but y'know, PG-13. Wait a few seconds after the platform has locked into place and then act surprised by the crowd, like they caught you. And you, Mr. Piastri just… keep looking at her like you are now, that’s perfect.”

She turned, looking up at her boyfriend and taking note of the stars in his eyes.

“Positions!” Someone shouted, but neither paid much mind to the people around them anymore as she hiked up her leg around his waist, his hand falling down to cup her thigh while the other wrapped around her waist and tugged her flush against him.

His voice was low as they slowly started to rise, the crowd deafening as they realised the concert was about to start, not at all anticipating the surprise they were about to receive. “It���s just you and me.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to twine her fingers in his hair and pulling his face down to hers. “It’s just you and me.”

Their lips crashed against each other with urgency that never got old. The sensation of his mouth against her was mind numbing and addictive. His tongue slipped past her lips and explored her mouth like it was their first kiss all over again. Teeth clinked and fabric was tugged, trying desperately to get closer if possible. The feeling of the platform rising had faded into nothingness as she was consumed by him.

His hand hooked under knee to tug her hips right against him, his erection evident and a near moan left her at the feeling of it. His fingers digging into the flesh of her thigh through her trousers and her thin shirt doing little to tame the heat between them.

Oscar’s mouth trailed down from her mouth to her neck, tugging on her hair to give him more space. His tongue was hot and his teeth sharp and he licked and bit at her skin lightly. Both in so much delirium that they forgot for a moment they were being watched by an arena.

She snapped out of it, only barely and looked out into the crowd in a daze as a very real blush reddened her cheeks. She tugged on Oscar’s hair to pull his face away from her throat, but it only resulted in him groaning.

A laugh left her, completely breathless and only a tad embarrassed when he finally leaned back to look at her. He looked unkempt, his hair a mess and her lipstick smeared across his mouth.

To play up the act, she gasped as she caught sight of them on the jumbo screen and stepped back from him, though he kept one arm wrapped around her waist, he dropped her leg.

The screams and shouts were enough to bust someone’s ear drums as people looked on in shock at the sight of the world famous Formula One driver making out with their favorite singer on stage.

She wiggled out of his hold and walked briskly to the microphone a few feet away from them, looking bashful as she laughed awkwardly, the sound echoing around the arena. “I am so sorry. They sent me up earlier than I thought.”

The crowd went wild for it and she looked over her shoulder, winking at Oscar and the way he was looking at her like she was the only one there made her want to pounce back on him again.

She smiled warmly as he leaned against the piano that was on stage, then waved to the rest of her band, before turning back to the crowd. “I guess introductions are in order?” She asked, screams and roars following.

“I’m sure most of you know him, but this is my boyfriend. He decided to pop me a visit in between race weekends.”

The night was a daydream as it went by, Oscar watching her with heaven in his eyes as she sang her heart out.

Finally, the song that had kick started everything was next and she looked down at Oscar who had taken a seat on the bench of the piano. “This next one is called Good Looking, and although Oscar is stunning, no this isn’t about him.”

Laughs followed and Oscar smiled at her warmly, watching in adoration as the song started. The song she had sang all those years ago in the bar about her ex who had turned her life into a nightmare and he had known then and there he wanted to be in her life. He wanted to erase the heartbreak that painted itself on her features as the words poured out of her.

“The skyline falls as I try to make sense of it all.”

He watched as her body moved with music, entranced with the fluidity of her movements.

“I thought I’d uncovered your secrets, but turns out there’s more.”

He hadn’t looked at the audience once, not able to pull his eyes away from his girlfriend throughout the night. Oscar was sure his phone was blowing up with notifications and missed calls with the news, given absolutely no one knew.

“You adored me before. Oh, my good looking boy.”

The song ended and she bowed, her grin was a sight pulled straight from the bible and he knew he’d fall to his knees whenever she asked, ready to lay down complete surrender to get just a taste of the salvation she offered.

Oscar had been a little worried the night would be awkward with him just sitting there, but not a flicker of regret passed through him as he watched thousands of people shout their love for her and her work.

Not quite believing the stars had aligned so well for him. Not quite believing she was real and had chosen him, out of all people. Forever grateful she put trust in him not to break her heart and vice versa.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling the whole night and watched as if an angel was approaching when she walked up to him, leaning down to kiss him.

Oscar knew he picked the right night, she was on top of the world and he wanted to keep that high going later when they got back to the hotel.

He had a ring box in his pocket he needed to take care of.

auroratheband

liked by landonorris, logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 829,039 others

auroratheband said yes to heaven last night, london you were beautiful

*tap to load more comments*

userone: WHAT

usertwo: WHO TF?? HOW TF?? AND THEY’RE ENGAGED HELLO????

landonorris: i’m sorry, what? osc answer your fucking phone

userthree: lando didn’t even know?? that is wild lmao

oscarpiastri: for the foul language your wedding invite has been revoked

userfour: apparently they’ve been dating for a few years, that hard launch had me losing my MIND

userfive: did you guys see how he was looking at her? MY HEART, he didn’t take his eyes off her once

usersix: I KNOW IM IN TEARS i cant wait for wedding pics

userseven: i need to see her in the paddock with the other wags immediately

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @ashbone @c8lap1nto @taasgirl @stopeatread @dying-inside-but-its-classy

[revelboo]

Do you mind writing an Optimus Prime part 2? Whenever 😄 inspiration finds you.

Sure! Also, I just accidentally found out that a single post can’t have over 100 links in it by accident with my Masterlist... Guess I get to par that down to the first chapters of everything and add actual previous/next links to the individual posts to navigate within a storyline.

And I’ve had a few people speculating about it and tried to make it a bit clearer now on the masterlist: the IDW stuff is all one big continuity with Lost Light and the random kink snippets clearly separated as alternate takes/AUs now.

Gravity pt 2

Optimus x Reader

• “You’re going to give them a heart attack when they come to if you don’t stop looming like that,” Ratchet mutters and Optimus looks up trying to decide if his old friend is joking. Given the frown, Ratchet’s serious and he’s not sure what to make of that. He’d known humans were fragile, but your heart can just stop? From fear? “They’re a little banged up, but fine,” Ratchet adds as Optimus stretches out a servo to touch your still form and then hesitates. You’re just so tiny, he’s not sure he can touch you without breaking you. “Who are you giving this one to?”

• Like it’s a forgone conclusion he’ll pawn watching over you on someone else. Someone less busy, less weighed down with duty. “It’s my responsibility,” he says, watching your chest rise and fall. You’ve been out since he caught you and so very still. He keeps his optics on you so he doesn’t have to see Ratchet’s expression. Because this is his responsibility and his guilt. He knows it’s not fair to trap you on the Ark, but keeping the surviving Autobots safe is his priority. And the other humans seem fine. Mostly.

• “Bumblebee would take them,” Ratchet offers, a hand touching his arm. “I think he’d be glad of the company.” Shaking his head, Optimus carefully curls his servos around your limp form and lifts you. Hears Ratchet venting tiredly behind him as he walks out and carries you through the halls to his quarters. Trailbreaker and Hound both turning to look when he walks by, curious. Maybe it’s been a mistake to try to keep his people far from humans. Maybe not. Sideswipe probably won’t be the last to abuse his rules, but he’s not ready to trust the humans to not betray them yet. He can’t.

• Your head is ringing, sinuses burning as you stiffly shift and your body complains about it. Why do you feel like one big bruise? There’s a blanket wrapped around you, but whatever you’re laying on isn’t that soft. Something presses so gently between your shoulder blades that it’s a ghost of a touch then slides down your spine. Repeats the stroke. Lifting your head, you squint up at a huge face staring down at you and everything slams back into focus. The Jeep that wasn’t a Jeep. The wreck. Giant, alien robots. One of which is holding you in one hand while it runs a huge finger down your spine again and again. You start shaking. That petting stopping when it notices.

• You’re awake. And not screaming. That has to be good thing, but remembering Ratchet’s warning, he rumbles and presses a servo carefully over your heart. It’s not stopped, but it is racing. A little, warm hand lands on his servo, your eyes wide in fear as you just tremble. And he understands, you have to realize how tiny you are compared to him, how easily you can be hurt. “You’re going to be okay, little one. I have you,” he says, optics snared on that tiny hand on his. And he knows he’ll protect you just like his Autobots. Be sword or shield for you, whatever you need. You’re his to care for now, that trembling fear hurting him to see.

• That rumbly, deep voice sings in your bones where you’re touching him, because that voice erased any doubts. Blue eyes is definitely a he. And as crazy as it is, you believe him despite the fear. There’s an earnestness in that voice that’s almost a promise of safety. Wonder mingles with the fear still thrumming through you as you stare at those pretty glowing eyes and think that they look unbelievably kind. The thought almost immediately followed with the certainty that you probably have a concussion.

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[roonotrue]

Twisted Wonderland - He Hears You Singing (About Him)

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Savanaclaw Edition

Prompt: While relaxing, and doing chores around the Ramshackle dorm for your weekend restoration of the barely standing building, your thoughts drift to love songs from your old world. You think of songs that remind you of your closest fellow NRC student and significant other, and end up singing one while you work.

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and they are referred to as 'MC/Prefect' in this one. And let's all just agree that MC is a great singer- cuz some of these songs have mad vocals that I would never dream of trying to sing myself with my incredibly average voice, and I imagine a lot of you are the same.

Included Characters: Heartslaybul Edition!

Warnings: None.

Request Rules & Information Here

~~~

Riddle Rosehearts - "Queen of Hearts" by We The Kings

- Doesn't mean to eavesdrop- truly he doesn't- but when he hears the opening lines of the song he can't help but pause, wondering if this is a song dedicated to the ACTUAL Queen of Hearts that he's just never heard before.

- He doesn't listen to popular music very often, he's more of a classical music while studying kind of person, but you have a rather impressive voice, and the song is honestly very... Sweet.

- He doesn't get some of the references in the verses, but the chorus is very charming, paired with your voice, and the bright smile on your face as you playfully sweep around the room (not very efficient for cleaning, but you are obviously having fun, so-).

- When you notice him, he turns a unique shade of red, stumbling out an apology for intruding, he just needs to talk to you about—what did he need to talk to you about again?

- He can't remember b-but he thought your singing was lovely! And you're clearly busy so you should get back to it! The cleaning part! N-not the singing! Unless you want to sing again!

- He would certainly love to hear you... If you are comfortable singing the song for him again that is?

"I've never heard that song before, but I liked it a lot... Would you mind singing it again? I'd love to hear yo- it again."

~~~

Trey Clover - "Coffee Cake" by Benson Boone

- He was only swinging by Ramshackle to drop off some spare baked goods that he just had extra of and totally didn't specifically make for you.

- Anyway-

- When he heard you singing he paused in his tracks, leaning against the doorway to listen to you singing with so much energy and a bright smile on your face.

- It's like you're having your own little concert while you dusted- occasionally using said feather duster as a makeshift microphone. It's adorable.

- He can't help but smile softly at the scene- he's unfamiliar with the song, and yet it fits your voice so well.

- A little startled when you notice him, but not at all ashamed- you were amazing, how could he not stop and stare? Now would you like to take a break with him and tell him all about that song and its meaning?

- He's already thinking of a dozen different coffee cake recipes now to share with you, the song stuck in his head, and he'll probably be humming it while he bakes for the next week, thinking about you the whole time.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed, I thought you sounded incredible. You should sing more often, perhaps while we bake some actual coffee cake together?"

~~~

Cater Diamond - "La Da Dee" by Cody Simpson

- He wasn't even planning to stop by Ramshackle today until Grim showed up at Heartslaybul complaining about you doing nothing 'fun' just 'boring chores' and while he had no intention of actually helping clean, he figured he'd at least grace you with his presence to liven things up and keep you company!

- It's totally not because this is the first opportunity he's had in weeks to spend some alone time with you- hahaha-

- The moment he hears you singing he whips out his phone at the speed of light, rushing to start recording the moment so he can hear your amazing voice singing the sweet, energetic love song over and over.

- When you spot him he is shameless about it, loudly brushing off any embarrassment on your part to immediately praise your voice and the song. Did you write that yourself? Oh, is it new? Who's it by? You have to send him a link! Oh, it's from your world? Oh, he's totes jealous! Your world has seriously great music!

- Will literally beg you to let him post that video of you singing, you were so amazing! Your pitch, tone, energy, all of it was perfect! You'd go Magicam famous!

- If you don't want it posted he'll pout and won't post it- but he certainly won't delete it either, after all, you might change your mind someday! (And he totally wants to go back and watch it on his own time but he's not admitting that.)

"You should totally join the Pop Music Club! You can tell us all about more music from your world- we can even try to play some covers of some of the songs! And you'd look amazing in a custom club outfit! Think of the Magicam posts, MC!"

~~~

Ace Trappola - "Wild Heart" by The Vamps

- Oh.

- Ohohohoho- You are never living this down.

- You can sing!? Not to mention that song! He's certain he's never heard it before but damn are you performing it well. He's got half a mind to pull a Cater move and record you for blackmail later- or just to have for himself.

- He tries to be sneaky- but at one point when you do a fun spin while belting the bridge- oh, he just can't help himself- grabbing you and spinning you in a circle with that mischievous, cocky smile of his and a loud teasing laugh.

- Huh, what are you embarrassed about? You sounded great! He had no idea you had such a great set of pipes on ya! You should sing for him again- that song was great too, were you thinkin' of him while singin' it? It sounds like a good description of him.

- He'll only lay off if you tell him he should help with the cleaning- to which he'll quickly lay off it in favor of dragging you off to help him with whatever trouble he came over in the first place to drag you into.

"Aww, come on, Prefect! Lemme hear you sing one more time! You sounded good, and that song was totally up my alley!"

~~~

Deuce Spade - "Last First Kiss" by One Direction

- Is entranced. Unlike the others who knew they were eavesdropping/knew it was a private moment, he doesn't really get the memo.

- He's too caught by surprise by your amazing voice and the song to realize he's staring in awe like a creep. It's rather romantic... And he can't help but fantasize for a moment that maybe- just maybe...

- And then you spot him. And he turns redder than Riddle when he's throwing a tantrum.

- He didn't mean to be weird or make you embarrassed he promises! He just thought you sounded really nice!!

- He will apologize sooo much until you assure him it's alright and to just not tease you. Tease you? How could he ever do that!? You were amazing! You sounded like a professional singer- at least to him, you did!

- You can go back to singing if you want- he'll even help you with your cleaning as an apology for barging in (totally not just an excuse to maybe hear you sing again while you work).

"I'm really sorry again! I just... Thought you sounded really nice is all... I'll help you with the chores to make up for it! But, feel free to go back to singing. I really liked that song..."

~~~

And that's all folks! My first-ever Twisted Wonderland fanfiction post! I hope I got the personalities right, please comment with your thoughts and opinions! Love ya, and see ya next post ~ Roo

[pomefioredove]

Hiii :D

I was wondering if you could do headcanons on Octavinelle (or) Savanaclaw with a Siren reader who's a singer at Octavinelle— who gets comments and remarks against them because they're a siren, claiming their 'vicious' or 'easy' because of their race stereotypes— even if it's not the case. I feel as though it would be interesting to think about🤔

oooh okay interesting interesting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ siren reader

type of post: headcanons characters: azul, floyd, jade additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not yuu

as if being a merperson on land isn't hard enough, the worst attention you get comes from the other merpeople on campus

you seem to have a reputation before you even arrive at NRC; the weird looks, the subtle, unflattering comments, the sneers and whispers...

it's unavoidable. you start to think that you may never make any friends. and then...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul really, really didn't want to feel bad for you. he has a reputation to uphold, after all, and if he were to let his walls down because of a little pity... no, no, absolutely not. there are no handouts in life. and if you're anything like him, you'll teach yourself how to get ahead

but... that's just the thing, isn't it? you're like him

Sevens, help him...

so, he looks out for you. he sends the tweels to... handle the students who gossip and spread rumors. he invites you to work at the lounge, knowing you have quite the voice on you

all out of the goodness of his heart(s)

he considers your singing at the lounge payment enough, anyway. it really is beautiful...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Floyd has literally zero regard for social status or whatever. if he likes you, he likes you, and that's it. will he torture you? a little, but that's how he shows his love!

besides, having him hold your things over his head so he can watch you squirm a little is well worth it. a small price to pay for his protection, since he's now decided that he is the only person allowed to bully you, and anyone who breaks that unspoken rule will have to answer to him

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

has Jade ever been one to judge? certainly not. it's not like he and his brother don't have a reputation of their own, anyway. and he's always been drawn to the dark and morbidly fascinating, not repulsed by it. quite honestly, he wouldn't mind if you were to put a spell on him and eat him. he'd probably enjoy it tbh

but you wouldn't. not unless he asks?. so he's perfectly content with your company as it is

[suntoru]

─ ✰ HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY.

─ SYNOPSIS: rin misses you. he wonders if breaking up with you was really worth it.

─ WARNINGS: 1.2k words!! angst, regret, pining, exes, perhaps ooc rin, probably bland but!! it’s here

─ AUTHOR’S NOTE: RIN GIRLIES HERE IS UR MAN &lt;3

— rin’s eyes anxiously dart around, scanning for your face somewhere in the stands, an unconscious habit he hasn’t been able to drop. the roar of thousands of fans cheering him on, yet strangely, the absence of satisfaction lingers within him.

it’s weird, even he knows it, that he still hopes his ex comes to his soccer matches. he’s fully aware that you are unlikely to be present, but even so, a lingering sliver of hope refuses to fade. and it’s strange, because he was the one who broke up with you to pursue his career, he was the one who broke your heart, he was the one who'd made you cry... so why does his heart feel so damn empty when you aren’t there to watch him soar?

fuck. this isn’t the time to be thinking about this. so with an annoyed huff, he pushes his feelings aside, and plays ball.

as the final whistle blows, everybody in the stadium erupts into cheers, confetti cascading down to honor the exceptional achievement. japan won nationals, rin scoring the winning goal by himself, marking tokyo's historic first-ever victory. his eyes widen with disbelief, puffing from the exertion of the intense match. the weight of the moment settles on his shoulders, and he couldn't help but look up, expecting to see the familiar sight of your proud face in the crowd, your pretty eyes catching onto his— oh. that’s right. you won’t be there anymore.

his smile falls the slightest bit. the sensation of pride and joy seems to snap almost instantly, and he doesn’t know why. this… this was his goal, his dream. the thing he wanted most in the world, in the palm of his hand. and really, he should be more happy, but he can’t seem to shake off the sinking feeling in his stomach.

his radiant smile begins to falter, a subtle shift in the atmosphere as the waves of pride and joy that had enveloped him seemed to snap abruptly. this achievement, this culmination of his dreams and aspirations, now lays within his grasp. one would expect satisfaction and happiness to course through his veins, yet an inexplicable unease settled in the pit of his stomach, casting a shadow over the moment. ignoring all his teammates’ cheers and screams, he speeds towards the locker room to get changed and go home.

his house really isn’t any better. (he questions if it’s really ‘home’ without you.) the concept of "home" now feels strangely foreign, a place that should be comforting but is instead tinged with an undeniable sense of absence. it's as if the essence of warmth has been drained away.

the once-inviting space lacks the comforting sprawl of your giant stuffed animals overtaking the bed or the mountains of your clothes taking over the closet. a peculiar emptiness lingers, a void that cannot be filled by mere physical belongings. the silence within the familiar walls is unsettling.

rin finds it quite odd not feeling your arms wrap around his torso, giving him a peck as you asked about his day. it’s strangely… quiet as well. there’s no you singing along to some laufey song completely out of tune, no alarm going off because you burnt the takoyaki, or the constant hum of the tv playing in the background. it's a quietude that, rather than offering solace, only accentuates the hollowness of the space. he’s not so sure he likes it.

he stares at the shiny, gold metal he had received. his mind, despite receiving a sparkly, golden-hued award— an emblem of achievement— stubbornly fixates his thoughts of you. he finds himself gazing at the metallic surface, a token of success that pales in comparison to the vibrant memories of your presence. he recalls your playful curiosity, imagining how you would have marveled at the gold medal, playfully testing its authenticity with an endearing chomp. he misses it. he misses you.

and he wonders what you might've changed his contact to. stupid ex, maybe? loser bitch? he deserves it. but he can't help but wonder, is there a possibility he'd still be 'rinnie', or 'my love' with a heart that never made sense because it looked more like a cheeky smile to him? (he wishes he had treasured you just a little bit more.) is he blocked? or is he just another number in your phone now? do you reread the messages he sent to you?

because he does. your contact name is still ‘loml’. he has every single photo you sent saved. he stares at the old "i love you" texts night after night after night. it's pathetic, really, but his heart aches for those moments when you'd scold him for overexerting himself, when you'd sleepily wake up at two am just to make him a hot meal when he came back late, when you'd stick those tacky hello kitty bandaids on top of the scrapes he got from soccer. he misses your good luck kisses, the ones where you'd pull his face down to your height and let out a big dramatic 'mwah!' in front of all his teammates— where he'd grumble and complain but his cheeks were undeniably a bright rosy red.

but above all, the vivid memory etched in his mind is the pain he inflicted upon you. your voice trembling, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you desperately clung to his arm, seeking an explanation. "what do you mean, rin? i don't understand. did i do something wrong?" your words quivered, on the verge of shattering, yet he callously shrugged you off, meeting your tear-filled eyes with a chilling glare.

"you're just a distraction. sorry, but soccer's more important to me."

he recalls the way your hand slowly fell away, the slow nod of comprehension, and the sight of your trembling bottom lip as you fought valiantly not to crumble. he was stupid. so, so stupid. he wishes he had pulled you into the shelter of his arms, confessed his foolishness, and reassured you that he didn't mean those hurtful words. or better yet, he wishes he didn’t say them at all. and he wants to ask, have you moved on? do you find your heart fluttering for somebody else, threatening to beat out of your chest like you once made him feel?

to be loved is to be seen. you saw him beyond the carefully constructed mask, piercing through the layers of the egoist the world molded him to be. in your gaze, he wasn't just the world's best striker or sae's little brother; he was itoshi rin. and that was enough for you.

oh, how utterly foolish he was to let you go. are you still as pretty as ever? (of course you are. you’ve never not looked absolutely stunning to him.) do you still smile as brightly as you once shone, his precious shooting star? he hopes you still find a reason to break into a grin every day.

but the question that is constantly on his mind like a broken record player. if he were to grovel and beg, surrendering his pride on his hands and knees, would you accept him back?

for a moment, he considers it. calling you. his finger hovers tentatively over the ‘audio’ call button, mere millimeters away from hearing you again. rin so desperately wishes to hear your sweet voice, see your angelic face, to be able to bask in your presence once more. would you be shocked? happy shocked, or enraged shocked, or maybe you wouldn’t pick up at all. would he go to voicemail? if he left one, would you listen? do you miss him as much as he has missed you all this time? (it’s been a month, but to him it felt like years.) yet, as the gravity of his past actions weighs heavily in his heart, an inexplicable hesitation ensnares him. you… don’t deserve this. you’re healing right now, he’s already chosen himself once, it would be utterly selfish to do it again. with a heavy exhale, he gingerly sets down his phone, fixing his gaze upon the ceiling above.

and suddenly, soccer doesn't feel like his passion after all. he wonders if it was really you.

his bed feels a little bit too cold now.

© KAEFFEINEE 2022-2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[kurokawaia]

❛ GENTLE ❜

HImejima Gyomei x Fem!Wife!Reader

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, fem pronouns, fem bodied reader, oral -> female receiving, male giving, fingering, praise, slight overstimulation? implied size kink, reader is smaller than Gyomei + probably more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) could you write a Gyomei Himejima x reader smut. Because I think her would be SO gentle if her ate them out. And would constantly check in on her and maybe at the some after care. - ANON

A/NOTE :: This has been re uploaded bc it wasn't showing up in tags :(

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You were sprawled out beneath Gyomei, your legs over his beefy shoulders and your head thrown back against the plushy pillow beneath your head. There was also a smaller pillow propped underneath your hips, Gyomei said that it would make it more comfy for you and it did. He always worried about your pleasure and comfort.

"G-Gyo," you whimper out as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried about how much your voice was whimpering at the small amount of contact with your most sensitive area.

You squirm under the hold Gyomei's hand on your thighs, back subtly arching into his face, wanting to indulge further in his touch. 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly.

"You'll be alright, my love," Gyomei reassures, placing soft and fluttery kisses on your stomach.

You shiver underneath the simple gestures, awaiting when he puts his tongue and fingers to use. 

"'M know, Gyo," you replied, your fingers interlacing with his short black strands. "You're jus' so big."

Gyomei lifts his head towards yours, wondering what you meant as his intent was to pleasure you on his tongue. However, he quickly realises that you were referring to how thick only one of his fingers was, and he would usually use two. A frown crosses onto his face, worried that through out all the times you tow have been intimate with each other, he had been causing you pain. 

"Have I been causing you pain, my love?" he asked worriedly.

"Wha-! No, Gyo," you replied. "It's just' you're so much sometimes, takes me so long to get used to and I finish so quick." 

You finish so quickly because of the sheer size of him.

Gyomei descends once more to your most sensitive area, your soaked cunt. "You need to tell me if I hurt you."

"You never hurt me, Gyo," you said while a shaky breath leaves your mouth.

A whimper leaves your mouth when he places a kiss on your clit and your thighs clench around his head. You attempt to arch away from the overwhelming sensation but Gyomei's grip keeps you in place. 

"G-Gyo," you moan out.

"I know, love," Gyomei reassures. "It's okay, I'm here, tell me if it's too much."

God, he was so gentle with you that it felt like you would break beneath his touch. His grasp on your thighs somewhat relaxed, giving you a tangible reassurance that you could pull away if necessary. However, he cherished it because you were so little in comparison to him and beneath him that he was afraid to shatter you.

Once more, Gyomei's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

"Are you okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds and you moan, your back arching and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in. 

You whimpered before answering, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, "Yeah, 'm am, Gyo."

He loves you so intensely it hurts, and your response makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head as a result of his constriction, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit. Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it.

"Gyo, f-feels s' good," you moan, tears welling in your lash line, he was making you feel so good. 

"You're okay?" Gyomei asks.

When you feel a thick finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand, and you cry with delight. It felt so fantastic that you never want it to finish, even though you thought you would break because he was so huge.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Gyomei was slow with his pace as he curled his fingers every time he entered your cunt, along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit. 

"You're being so good, you're doing so well," Gyomei moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress, this was your pleasure, not his own. 

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His motions become more rapid and needy as you cry his name through broken letters, and the one hold he held on your leg tightens. Your stomach coil tightened, and your fingers wrapped around his locks to stop him from moving and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The only thing the groans did was push you over the edge, and when he placed his tongue firmly against your clit, a quiet scream from your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face completely.

He slowly removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, your cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks worried, kissing away the pleasure-caused tears streaming down your cheeks and the side of your face.

You hmm in peaceful contentment as he peppers gentle and soothing kisses to your face. "I am, dear," you reply.

"You did so well, you took me so well," Gyomei praises.

A mumbled thank you leaves your lips before you wrap your arms around Gyomei. "I'm s' tired," you slur out.

"I'll clean you up, don't worry," Gyomei says. "I'll wash you up."

Your eyes widen, "But what about you?"

"Giving you pleasure makes me feel more pleasured than anything," he reassures before adding, "Let's go clean up." And he picks you up to take you to the bath.

The warm steam rises from the bathwater as you and Gyomei settle into the large, wooden tub, its surface rippling gently with the movement of your bodies. The fragrant scent of lavender and eucalyptus fills the air.

Gyomei helps you ease into the bath, his strong hands guiding you gently. The water is pleasantly hot, enveloping you in a soothing embrace. As you both get comfortable, Gyomei sits behind you, his broad back against the tub’s edge, creating a space for you to lean back against him.

So warm.

He takes a soft washcloth and dips it into the warm water, wringing it out before gently placing it on your shoulders. His touch is careful, his movements deliberate as he begins to wash away any pain or soreness that you have gotten.

"You did so good for me," he murmurs, his voice a calming rumble against your ear. "I’m proud of you, you're so good."

You close your eyes, savouring the tenderness of his touch and the warmth of the water. Gyomei's hands move with care, his touch so gentle with your body, ensuring you feel safe and loved by him.

As he washes your back, he occasionally leans forward to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, each one causing butterflies to rise in your stomach. You can feel his breath on your skin, adding an extra layer of warmth.

After you’ve been thoroughly pampered, Gyomei carefully helps you rinse off, his hands guiding the water over your body with a steady, reassuring touch. He then takes a moment to gently brush your hair, running his fingers through it.

Once the washing is done, he wraps you in a large, fluffy towel, his movements slow as he dries you off with care. His touch is gentle, making sure every inch of your skin is dried and warm. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body against yours create a sense of profound peace, and you feel a deep connection with him.

"You’re my everything," he whispers, his voice filled to the brim with love. "I want to take care of you always."

You smile, resting your head on his chest, and let the soothing warmth body against you lull you to sleep in his hold, because you know that if you fall asleep, he will be there to dress you and take to to bed. And you will be safe in his arms. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[suiana]

(yandere! fan x gn! idol reader) (cw: murder, stalking, slight nsfw, yandere stuff)

Yoon-Jae likes to think of himself as your biggest fan.

He buys all your albums, attends all your fan-meets, hell, he even buys all your merch! He just wants to support his favourite idol after all.

You deserve it. Really.

He still remembers how you used to be laughed at by the other students for being a nerd.

You, his old high school classmate, the one he's always pined after even when you were a cute geeky nerd that got teased on a daily basis. Those were good times, he thinks. Before your rise to stardom and exposure to the rest of the world. When times were simpler and you were just someone he had a huge crush on because you were so his type. You two didn't even talk to one another but he had already decided that you were his crush. His first and only crush.

Yoon-Jae still finds it hard to believe that time has already passed by just like that. It's been a good couple of years since you two were in the same class, he still can't believe it. Cute, nerdy, and a little bit of a loser. Sure he knows he's popular and attractive, but opposites attract don't they?

He remembers it like yesterday, to when he first decided to act on his growing feelings for you.

It started out with small things. Following you around in public, being your own personal paparazzi. A little click here and there never hurt anyone. Not when you were so beautifully going about doing your things. His breath always hitches whenever he brings his camera up to his shaky blue eyes to snap another picture of you. The perfect you.

It was like you were made for the spotlight. Made for the cameras. I mean, how could you not be? You're perfect. Everything about you is like a blessing from the god's above. Your smiles, your laughter, the way your face would flush a little from laughing too much... Everything about you needed to be framed in a mueseum. Truly a work of art.

Click, Click, Click.

His camera fired away at everything you did. Even the most mundane of things. The tall Korean man estimates he probably had taken about 5000 pictures of you on a day to day basis back when you both were still students. If you ask his present self how many pictures he takes on a daily basis now it would probably be 2 or 3 times more than what he used to take.

In any case, he finds it a little cute how you were completely oblivious to his photo-taking. How you went around your day-to-day life while remaining blissfully unaware of the photos he shot of you.

Then things got a bit worse.

He thought it wasn't enough to just follow you around outside. No, he needed a glimpse into your private life, the one you kept behind closed doors. Yoon-Jae thought it would help him learn more about you.

And it did. It helped him to learn more about your character. About the person that hid behind a pair of thick round glasses and a nervous stutter when around others in class. The person he saw through a rose-eyed lens.

It was as though he got a glimpse into your soul.

So of course he had to continue breaking into your house to see you in your private space. Of course he had to install cameras in your room to observe how you acted when no one else was around. Of course he had to watch you 24/7. Of course he had to.

It was cute seeing you dance and sing around like some famous idol. Your voice was always so soothing that he'd fall asleep while watching you. This was something he never thought the cute little nerd in his class would enjoy doing. But if it makes you happy he'll be more than happy to support it. You were already an idol in his eyes anyway. It's even better if you wanted to act like a real one.

To be honest, he had secretly hoped you'd notice him. He finds it arousing to say the least. To be caught doing such an intimate thing with his beloved muse... It sends his heart racing, sweat rolling down the sides of his pale forehead as his member strains painfully against his sweatpants.

But you never did and he can't tell whether it's a blessing or a curse that you were so oblivious. No matter, the dark haired man can wait. He's always been patient after all. It's something his mom praised him for since he was young.

The more he learned about you, the more Yoon-Jae couldn't help but be a little peeved that you were still being bullied. He couldn't understand why such a sweet thing like yourself would get teased and called names for liking things so passionately. It's cute. So very adoravle. And he absolutely hated it that others would make fun of you for it. He hated it.

So he decided to get rid of them. What is the point of their lives if they couldn't appreciate the perfection that you are? They are the scum of the earth. Vermin who didn't deserve to live.

His usually neat and tidy appearance was a mess by the time he was done getting rid of the first person. He still regrets wear his favourite white shirt to get rid of all these pests. Their filth got all over him after all, blood and tears staining his pristine clothes.

Yoon-Jae remembers his mother horrified expression as she immediately clutched his arms, asking if he was hurt. He had to repeatedly reassure her that he was fine and just doing it for you. Her face immediately relaxed after that.

"You found your other half then? Are they like your father?"

"Mom it's not-"

"You should bring them back soon. I want to meet my son's beloved! I've been waiting for this day for so long!"

The Korean guy was so confused by his mother's words. Love? He never saw what he was doing as love. He thought it was just... doing what he should do. You're perfect so he should devote himself to you. That's how things are, no?

He started questioning himself after that. Did he... love you? Really? I mean, yeah, he did have a crush but it couldn't be love, could it? Love is a really strong word... He thinks he's just giving you the attention and affection you deserve.

In the midst of getting rid of his final victim, he decided to spill his heart out to them.

"I just... I don't know whether I really love them, you know? Like... I'm doing all this but... It's more like, I want them to be safe and protected from all the bad people. And yeah, maybe I wanna get with them too but that's not very important, is it?"

"U-uh..."

His soft black locks stick to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving slightly as he continues talking about his feelings to the half dead person. Maybe they'll give him some enlightenment? I mean, they decided to harm you... They should at least give him some advice, no?

"Hey, what do you think? Since you decided to make fun of them you probably know right?"

"I-I don't know-"

"What was that?"

"I meant you probably love them! P-Please don't kill me!"

And just like that, it was like a switch was flipped in his brain.

He made quick work of the person... Well, at least they were useful in the end. He supposes they're not totally good for nothing.

Yoon-Jae decides to confess to you the next day. He brings in flowers and sprays his special cologne. He's positive that you'll reject him today, but he doesn't care. He'll just continue to confess until you finally give in and love him back. You're bound to fall for him one day or another.

Sadly, his luck completely failed him that day and you weren't anywhere in sight. At all.

He spent the whole day asking about your whereabouts, fretting over your well-being as his minds spirals into a states of paranoia. Were you kidnapped? Did someone hurt you? Sick? Where the hell were you?!

And that's when he heard it. You got scouted by an entertainment company and moved to a school closer to your agency.

An idol. You were going to become an idol.

It was as though his heart had stopped and his whole world was flipped upside down. Oh.

Oh.

The realization that you were actually going to stand on a grand stage with hundreds of thousands of eyes on you finally settled in and his heart couldn't help but swell with pride. His idol, his beloved idol. The one he loved and would protect to death. Yoon-Jae couldn't help but feel satisfied knowing that some person finally realized your potential. Took them long enough, he mumbles while walking back home with the bouquet of flowers.

Was he sad that he couldn't confess to you? Sure, yeah he was. He's not going to deny it or lie. It really fucking hurt when you weren't there to witness his confession. But the fact that you had actually gone to become an idol... That made everything all better.

He'd finally be able to worship and love you like you were meant to be worshipped. An idol. His idol. He'd be able to prattle and gush about you without receiving any weird looks. Everyone else will be doing the same thing anyway. They can't and won't be able to judge him. In fact, they'd be understanding of why he's so obsessive over you. You're perfect, he repeats. Such perfection is worth losing his mind over. He's sure everyone would agree.

He can't help but grin in excitement as he anticipates your debut. A cute concept? A sexy concept? Both? He thinks that you'd suit everything.

When you finally debuted he feels like he could die at that second. You, in all your glory, was standing in the middle of a stage. A soloist. The sole star of the show. He's glad your agency hadn't put you in a group. He'd feel bad for your other members, already knowing that you'd outshine them all. It's not even up for debate.

It's no surprise that Yoon-Jae's the first to buy all your merchandise. The first one to book tickets to all your shows and fan meets. He's in the front row screaming your name with his heart, blue eyes all wide and cheeks flushed as he publicly displays his devotion for you.

You don't notice him at first, but as time goes by and he continues to support you, he's become a familiar face amongst your ever growing crowd. Yoon-Jae. You hadn't realized that the popular guy in your old class had liked your music so earnestly. Maybe it was a safe haven from the horrible deaths back in your old school. You believed your music to be comforting after all.

His slender hands intertwine with yours as he appears at your fan meet for the nth time. He comes bearing more gifts than before, way too excited to chat to you one-on-one again.

"Darling, darling! You look amazing like usual! I bought this expensive cartier necklace for you today. Do you want me to put it on for you?"

"Haha, of course. You're my sweetest fan! Come put it on for me?"

The lines between idol and fan slowly start to blur to him. Yoon-Jae thinks that you truly mean what you say whereas you were just doing what an idol does. Fan-service.

But Yoon-Jae doesn't care about that. Why would he? You're his other half. He even got his mother to watch your content with him. She says she's eager to meet her son's future spouse. His father is a little bit more reserved, always hiding in his room and reading quietly, not wanting to talk to him. Whatever, he'll meet you one on one when the time comes. And you'll be his when the time comes. Though he loves you as an idol, he loves you as his lover more. The tall black haired guy is already counting down the days to when your contract ends.

For now, he'll continue supporting you as your biggest fan. He always will be your biggest fan even after your career too. You're an idol in his eyes through and through and nothing will change that.

Nothing will ever change that.