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greengoblinswifey · 16 days ago

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Hii can you do one of Nicholas Chavez where your dating his brother.. you have been dating for 3 years but then one day you catch your boyfriends brother(Nicholas) in his room moaning y/ns name !🤭

warnings— infidelity, male masturbation, betrayal, slight voyeurism, daddy kink, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— love love love this, enjoy and lmk if you guys wanted to me on my NAC taglist <3

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It was a typical evening at your boyfriend's house. You were lounging in the living room, scrolling through your phone, while he was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. His brother, Nicholas, was nowhere to be seen—at least, not until you heard the faint sound of music coming from his room.

You had always found comfort in the quiet moments at their house, the familiarity of their home filling you with a sense of belonging. But tonight, there was something different about the atmosphere. As you listened to the muffled hum of the music, a part of you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

You told yourself to relax, to enjoy the time you had with your boyfriend, but then it happened.

You heard it.

The faint sound of your name—mixed in with moans.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you froze. There was no mistaking it. The voice was unmistakably Nicholas’.

Your mind raced. Why was he saying your name like that? Was he talking to someone else? You stood up slowly, your feet carrying you to the door of his room without fully understanding why.

You pushed the door open just a crack.

And there he was.

Nicholas, sitting on the edge of his bed, his hand gliding along his hard, thick cock looking lost in the moment.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moaned again, his voice deep and thick with desire.

You felt a wave of shock wash over you, your breath catching in your throat. A part of you wanted to turn around and run out of there, but another part of you, a much darker part, couldn't pull yourself away.

You stood there frozen, the door still ajar, barely able to breathe. Nicholas hadn’t noticed you yet, too far gone, his eyes squeezed shut, his muscles on his sculpted body tense. Your name fell from his lips once more, and the sound of it made your pulse race.

“Y/N,” he moaned again, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You felt your stomach flip, guilt and confusion mixing with something darker, something you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge before. This was wrong, yet you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. You had to remind yourself that this was your boyfriend's brother.

A sudden noise from downstairs broke the trance. You snapped out of your thoughts, heart hammering in your chest. You quickly stepped back from the door, pulling it almost completely shut, but not fully. You couldn’t look away, though you knew you should.

It wasn’t until the soft shuffle of footsteps filled the hallway that Nicholas finally opened his eyes, realizing you were there.

For a moment, there was silence. His eyes locked onto yours, wide with shock and confusion. His breathing was heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he, too, was trying to process what had just happened.

“Y/N—” Nicholas’ voice was barely a whisper, filled with the weight of unspoken words. He didn’t move, his posture stiff.

You swallowed hard, the words barely forming in your mouth. “What—what the hell was that?”

His eyes darted away for a second, his face flushing a deep shade of red. He shifted on the bed after pulling up his sweats, clearly flustered. “I didn’t mean for you to hear that.”

You took a step back, your heart racing, your mind swirling. “You didn’t mean for me to hear that?”

He stood up quickly. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet but urgent. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the pieces finally falling together. The tension, the moments when he’d get a little too close, the way his gaze lingered on you a little too long. You'd noticed it before, but you had never dared to think about it. You couldn’t have, not with your boyfriend, his brother—you never thought it would come to this.

“Nicholas,” you whispered, the confusion and anger giving way to something else, something dangerous. “I—this isn’t right. You’re my boyfriend’s brother. We’ve known each other for years.”

“I know. God, I know.” Nicholas stepped closer, his voice urgent now. “But I can’t help how I feel. I’ve tried. Every day, I’ve tried to push it away. But you, you’ve always been there. And I’ve thought about you in ways I shouldn’t. You saw it.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at his words, and the air around you seemed to crackle with the tension between you both. “This is a mistake. This has to be a mistake.”

“I don’t want it to be,” he said, his voice a low rasp, stepping closer still. “I can’t just forget what I feel.”

You backed away, your breath quickening. “I don’t know what to say to you, Nicholas. This is insane. I’m with your brother. I love him.” Your voice wavered slightly, but you couldn’t let it falter. You couldn’t give in.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his eyes desperate now. “But I can’t pretend like this isn’t real. I can’t keep living with how much I fucking want you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. Every word, every breath between you felt like it could be the start of something you couldn’t take back. You could feel the pull between you, the temptation, the danger, and it was almost too much.

What the hell do you do now?

“I could treat you better, I could fuck you better—I haven’t heard your sweet moans at night in months Y/N.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The urge to run, to get out of that room, was almost overpowering. But something pulled you back toward him.

Nicholas’ words still hung in the air, sharp and heavy. You could barely breathe, your mind reeling. His voice echoed in your mind as if each word was a spark, igniting something deep inside you that you had worked so hard to suppress. You felt sick, guilty, confused. But there was something undeniable in his words, something that had taken root in your thoughts.

You shook your head, as if trying to rid yourself of the feeling. “Stop,” you whispered, taking a step back. “I can’t listen to this. This is wrong.”

Nicholas stood there, his eyes intense, unyielding. “You know I’m right. You know it’s not like it used to be with him. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words suffocating you. The truth was, you had felt something slipping between you and your boyfriend lately—distance, disconnection, but hearing Nicholas articulate it, him of all people, felt like a slap to the face.

“I’m with your brother,” you said, your voice shaking, but firm. “I can’t do this. I’m not doing this with you.”

His expression softened, but only for a moment. His gaze flickered to the door. “You should think about it. Really think about it. Because you deserve more.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With one last glance at him, you turned and hurried out of the room, your heart racing, as you tried to force your thoughts to focus on anything else. Anything but what had just happened.

You found your boyfriend downstairs in the kitchen, humming as he prepared dinner, blissfully unaware of the storm you were carrying inside. The warmth of his smile, the moment, only made you feel worse.

You tried to push everything out of your mind as he approached you, his arm wrapping around your waist. His lips found the side of your neck, kissing it softly, and you felt your heart drop.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice low, concerned. “You’ve been up there for a while.”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just uh just needed a minute. Everything’s fine.”

You felt his lips press against your neck again, and for a moment, you thought you might melt into the warmth of his embrace. You couldn’t think of how to explain what had just happened, and frankly, you weren’t sure you were ready to confront it.

He pulled back, his eyes meeting yours with a smile that made your stomach twist. “Good. You know I hate seeing you upset,” he said, brushing a strand of your curly hair behind your ear. “Come on, let’s sit down and eat.”

Later that night, after dinner, your boyfriend had suggested a casual movie night. “Hey, why don’t you watch something with us, Nick?” he called up to his brother, who had been silent since dinner. “It’ll be good to have all of us together for once.”

You felt a pit form in your stomach at the thought of spending more time with Nicholas, especially after everything that had happened earlier. But you didn’t have much choice. You couldn’t act suspicious. So, you sat down on the couch, trying to keep your distance.

Nicholas appeared in the doorway, hesitating for a moment before sitting down right next to you. He didn’t say a word, just settled in with his gaze lingering on you a little too long. You tried to focus on the TV, your eyes straight ahead, but you could feel his presence next to you—his every movement, every shift in his seat felt like an electric current, almost too much to bear.

He was so close now, just beside you. You could feel his warmth, his proximity making it difficult to concentrate. Every few seconds, your peripheral vision caught him glancing at you, his gaze sharp, searching.

You tried to ignore him. You tried to pretend he wasn’t there. But it was hard when he was right beside you, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Every now and then, you felt his leg brush against yours, sending a jolt of heat through you. It made you feel like you were betraying yourself with every second that passed.

Your boyfriend, oblivious to everything, wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. You leaned into him, trying to ground yourself in the comfort of his touch, but Nicholas’ presence was like a constant hum in your ear. Every time you shifted, you could feel his eyes on you, his gaze burning into your skin.

At one point, you glanced toward him, just a fleeting moment and found his eyes already locked on you. He didn’t look away, not for a second. The intensity in his stare made your heart skip a beat, but you quickly averted your gaze, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

Your boyfriend kissed your temple, pulling you closer into him, unaware of the silent tension building between you and Nicholas. “You okay?” he whispered softly into your ear, his voice a soothing contrast to the storm that was raging inside you.

“Yeah, just tired,” you muttered, your voice shaky, betraying the calm you were trying to hold on to.

Nicholas shifted beside you, just enough for you to feel it, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his attention on you. Every time you reached for the popcorn or adjusted yourself, his gaze followed, and you could feel it. It was torture. Every second felt like it stretched on for hours.

The movie played on, the dim light flickering across the room. Your boyfriend, wrapped in a cozy blanket beside you, had fallen into a deep sleep, his light snoring filling the otherwise quiet room. You shifted slightly, trying to ignore the discomfort creeping up your spine. Then, without warning, you felt a hand on your thigh. Your breath hitched, and you froze.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake your boyfriend.

Nicholas didn’t pull away. His fingers gently caressed your skin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Just hear me out,” he said, his voice low, “Just listen to what I have to say.”

You could feel the weight of his words, but you resisted. “I don’t want to hear it,” you replied, your throat tightening as you pulled your legs closer to you.

But he didn’t give up. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing your ear as he spoke. “I know you’re not satisfied,” he murmured, the words cutting through the tension in the room. “The fact that you’ve even considered this tells me everything I need to know. My brother isn’t satisfying you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself to respond, even though your voice cracked. “I’m very happy with him,” you said, the words feeling hollow even to your own ears.

Nicholas chuckled softly, the sound low and almost mocking. “You don’t even believe that yourself.”

You tried to push his words away, but his gaze was unrelenting. He was too close, his presence too overwhelming. “You’re sexually frustrated, aren’t you?” he continued, his voice so smooth it almost felt like a caress. “I could never do that to you. You deserve so much more. You’re beautiful, I’d treat you like a queen.”

You wanted to ignore him, wanted to focus on your boyfriend beside you, but he wasn’t done. “He’s been texting other girls, you know. And I would never do that to you. Not in a million years.”

Your stomach dropped at the thought. “H-he has?” The words left your lips before you could stop them, the vulnerability in your voice unmistakable.

Nicholas leaned in closer, his hand moving gently to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. His voice was soft, almost comforting, but you could hear the hint of something darker underneath. “Yes,” he said. “But I’m here now.”

You felt a wave of hurt wash over you. The truth of his words, the insinuation of betrayal, it all hit you harder than you expected. You wanted to cry, but Nicholas was there, his presence suffocating yet oddly comforting. “Don’t cry sweetheart,” he whispered, his tone soft yet possessive. “Daddy’s here.”

Your mind was spinning. You could feel the weight of the moment, the pressure of his words tugging at your resolve. Your heart was torn between the man beside you and the brother who had just shattered your world with a few whispered sentences.

“I won’t hurt you,” he murmured, his gaze intense. “I just want you to see that there’s more out there than what you have right now. You deserve someone who makes you feel alive again.”

You swallowed, your heart racing. It wasn’t like you didn’t feel the pull—Nicholas was captivating, his words hitting too close to home. But you couldn’t betray your boyfriend like this. Not now, not ever.

Then, in a sudden, heated moment, Nicholas leaned in closer. The smell of his cologne lingered in the air as he moved, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

“I just want to show you how good it can be,” he whispered. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Before you could answer, his lips brushed yours lightly, a soft, tentative kiss. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding against your chest.

The kiss wasn’t forceful. It was slow, almost gentle, as if he was testing the waters, gauging your response. You didn’t know how to react. Part of you wanted to pull away, but another part of you, one that you didn’t want to acknowledge, wanted to give in.

Nicholas pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, looking for a sign of something. You were still frozen, unsure of what to do next. Then, just as the quiet settled in, you heard your boyfriend shift beside you, a soft groan escaping his lips as he stirred from his deep sleep.

His hand moved on your thigh after the distraction, his touch light but deliberate. His fingers trailed higher and higher until they settled on your crotch with your shorts being the only thing separating him from your pussy. Every brush of his fingers rubbing your pussy through the fabric made your heart race, your mind spinning with the growing conflict inside you. You could hear your boyfriend, deep in sleep beside you, unaware that his brother was about to finger you.

“You’re frustrated, if you weren’t, you wouldn’t be letting me do this.”

You wanted to push him away, to shut him down, but his words lingered, threading through your thoughts. The way he said it, so sure of himself, made you question things you hadn’t before. Your lips parted to respond, to say that everything was fine, but when you spoke, your voice cracked.

“Let me make you feel good.” His fingers gently stroked the inside of your thigh, the movement so slow, so calculated, that it sent a shiver through you. A gasp left your lips before you pressed your lips together to be quiet as he ripped your shorts open. His fingers went to your clit, rubbing it and spreading the wetness you were shocked graced your pussy.

You tried to turn your attention to your boyfriend, who was still lost in sleep, but the pull of Nicholas’ presence was too strong. His words, his touch, were disorienting. He chuckled softly as you moaned, the sound warm and knowing. “You deserve more. You’re beautiful, and you should feel like it every single day. I could make you feel wanted, really wanted.” His thumb traced small, soothing circles on your clit, and you fought to keep your focus. “I could treat you better than he ever has.”

Your pussy fluttered at his words. There was something about the way he spoke, so certain, so confident. Two of his fingers slid pressed lightly into you, curling to meet your sweet spot. You didn’t pull away, despite everything in you screaming to stop. His fingers were moving steadily, the pressure of his touch made your pulse quicken.

“You deserve more than this,” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper now. “I would never let you feel neglected. I’ll always make you feel like a queen.”

You could feel his breath against your ear as he leaned in closer. You had to bite your lip to hold back the moans as he finger fucked you right beside your boyfriend, his brother.

Everything in you screamed that this was wrong, that you couldn’t betray your boyfriend like this. But Nicholas was there, his touch gentle and making you feel utter pleasure, and it was hard to fight it. You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, but at the same time, something else, your orgasm, was stirring inside you.

His thumb moved to your clit as his fingers continued pumping inside you and your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t fight it,” he murmured. “I can make you feel better than he ever could. You don’t have to be stuck.”

You wanted to tell him to stop, to push him away, but all you could do was sit there, caught between the two of them—your boyfriend, asleep beside you, and Nicholas who was working his fingers inside you even faster now. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t hear the loud squelching your pussy was making.

As your orgasm built, you tried to move away, but Nicholas’ fingers remained thrusting inside you. “I’m here now,” he said softly. “Let me be the one to make you cum.”

The words wrapped around you, and for a moment, you were torn between guilt and something else, something you didn’t know how to define. All you could do was sit there, fighting the emotions inside you as his fingers repeatedly thrusted against your g spot, a reminder of the choices you didn’t want to face.

“Please,” you whispered, clutching onto his shoulder as you felt yourself nearing the edge.

“Please what? Is it what I think it is? Do you wanna cum for daddy?” Nicholas whispered back.

You didn’t want to admit you were about to betray your boyfriend in the worst way possible, even if you were too far gone and tethering on the edge.

“If you want me to make you cum, you’re gonna have to beg me, say please daddy, please let me cum,” Nicholas whispered, darkly.

Maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend had been neglecting your needs. At least—that’s what you told yourself to feel better about what you were about to do.

“P-please daddy, please let me cum, I need it so bad,” you gasped into his ear, softly.

Nicholas smirked cockily, his movements more precise and he hummed in content feeling your wet pussy clench and gush around his fingers. He finger fucked you through your high, the sound of squelching filling the living room from how wet you were.

“That’s it, you’re such a good girl, you did so well,” he cooed before bringing his fingers to his mouth to clean your juices.

Nicholas held you close, his hands supporting you effortlessly as he lifted you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, the proximity overwhelming in the best and worst way. You could feel his heartbeat through his muscular chest, steady and firm, yet your own pulse was erratic, betraying the conflict in your mind.

His eyes never left yours, searching for something in you that mirrored what he was feeling. He was so close, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, the question lingering in the air. “I’ll stop right now, but I need you to tell me.”

You felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of desire and guilt. You couldn’t speak for a moment, your heart pounding, a knot forming in your throat. Everything inside you wanted to pull away, but everything else, the weight of his words, the pull between you two, made it impossible.

Nicholas shifted slightly, his hand resting lightly on your back, coaxing you to face him. He was patient, letting you breathe, giving you the space to process. But you could barely think.

“Look at me,” he said softly, his voice still steady but with an undercurrent of something else. “I need to hear you say it. Say you want this.”

You hesitated, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, a mix of nerves and longing twisting in your chest. He was right there, his gaze intense but gentle, and it was hard to fight the warmth in your stomach and the fluttering of your pussy.

You buried your face in his neck, too shy to meet his gaze. The words you needed to say felt so foreign, so risky, but you knew he wanted to hear them.

He chuckled softly, the sound almost a caress. “Baby, look at me,” he repeated, this time firmer, the hint of command in his tone. “Don’t hide from me, not now. Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitched, and you slowly pulled away, your eyes meeting his. Your heart raced in your chest as you finally let the words slip out, barely above a whisper.

“I want this, I want you,” you murmured, your voice faltering slightly.

Nicholas’ lips curled into a soft smile, his hand lifting to gently brush your cheek. “Good girl,” he said, the approval in his voice warm, like he’d just won something precious. “You won’t regret this.”

He held you even tighter, his grip supportive as he began to carry you, your heart racing with every step. You felt the overwhelming mix of emotions, of everything swirling in your head—guilt, desire, hesitation, but also something you hadn’t expected, trust.

His voice was soft as he walked, his pace steady as he made his way upstairs. “I’ll make you feel like the queen you are,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “No more doubts. You deserve to be treated the way you’ve always wanted.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. You wanted to protest, wanted to pull away, but your body didn’t listen. It was as though you were pulled into this moment, caught in the push and pull of your emotions.

He set you down gently on his bed. his hands lingering on your waist, looking at you with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “You don’t have to be scared,” he said quietly. “I’m here now. And I’ll never let you down like he has.”

You didn’t know what to say, your mind too fogged with everything to process. But there, in that moment, you made a decision, you would trust him, even if you weren’t sure of what it all meant. All you could do was nod.

The atmosphere in the room was thick, heavy with what lingered between you and your boyfriend’s brother. Every brush of his hand removing your clothes, every tender kiss, seemed to deepen the connection. His fingers gently grazed the curve of your waist, pulling you even closer, his chest pressing against yours as the kiss deepened.

You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your chest, thumping against the walls of your ribcage like it wanted to escape. You couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. He removed his clothes revealing his chiseled body that made your pussy throb.

Nicholas’ lips barely left yours as he moved, his body shifting to position you under him and his cock against your wet pussy. He was careful, mindful, his hands tender but firm, never rushing. His lips broke from yours only for a moment, breathing heavily against your skin. “We need to be quiet,” he whispered, his voice rough, strained with desire. “I don’t want him to hear us.”

You nodded, your body already reacting to him, but you swallowed the urge to let out a noise, to say something, anything. The weight of the moment was almost too much.

His hand slid gently up your back pulling you against him as his raw cock pushed inside you, and you bit your lip to hold in a soft gasp. Nicholas, ever so perceptive, caught the small tremor in your body and looked down at you with an almost amused expression. “You’re so beautiful when you’re trying to keep quiet,” he murmured, his voice soft, full of admiration.

You felt warmth rise in your cheeks at the compliment, and you knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. He wasn’t letting you. He was pulling you into him, his cock working slowly, carefully, but every thrust seemed to melt away the last bit of resistance you had.

“I want you to feel good, sweetheart,” Nicholas whispered again, his voice barely audible. “I want to see you lose control, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His words were like a spark, igniting a fire deep within you. You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep quiet, your breaths already coming faster as his cock pounded into you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he leaned down to kiss your neck.

The kiss was slow, deliberate, each movement calculated. But even in the midst of his tenderness, you felt your orgasm building. You tried to hold it in, tried to keep the moans from slipping out, but the way Nicholas fucked you, the way his cock and lips made you feel, made it almost impossible.

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I know it feels good, baby, but we have to be quiet, okay?”

You nodded, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you tried to focus, tried to control the way your body reacted. The struggle to remain silent only added to the intensity of the moment. His lips trailed down to your tits, his tongue darting out to lick your brown nipples. “You’re doing so well,” he whispered against your skin. “You’re so strong, baby. So beautiful. I can feel how much you need this.”

His words were like honey, sweet and comforting, but they made your heart race even faster. You knew you couldn’t hold back much longer. The intimacy, the quiet tension, was too much.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of his cock and the sound of your own shallow breaths. “I don’t know if I can hold back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed you again, this time on your lips. “It’s okay. Cum for daddy. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Each touch felt more intimate than the last, each moment more precious as he pounded into you steadily, his eyes locked on yours. In that moment, you surrendered—not just allowing your orgasm to take you over and soak his cock but to the emotions that were rising to the surface.

Nicholas’ orgasm followed soon after, his hot load filling you to the brim and making you bite down on his shoulder as he whispered dirty things in your ear.

As the room settled into a quiet, almost still air, Nicholas' cock remained inside you. His gaze never wavered from yours, intense and searching, as if trying to read every thought in your eyes.

“You deserve so much more than you realize,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. His words seemed to linger in the air, pressing against your thoughts, making you feel exposed, vulnerable.

You swallowed, trying to compose yourself, but the intensity of the moment, the depth of his words, made it hard to focus. “Nicholas,” you murmured, your voice trembling just slightly as you tried to find the right words.

He pulled out and gently cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “Shh,” he soothed. “I need you to hear me. I’m here for you, I’m not like him. I’ll treat you the way you deserve. You don’t need to settle for anything less.”

His words caught you off guard. Not like him—his brother. The one you’d been with for so long, who you thought you knew. It was all so confusing, yet you couldn’t help but feel something stir—something both thrilling and terrifying.

“I’m not like him,” Nicholas repeated softly, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll show you what it means to be treated right. You deserve everything, and I’m going to make sure you see that.”

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t deny the mix of emotions that bubbled up inside of you—the desire to believe him, the frustration with your own confusion, the need to protect your heart. You tried to look away, but his presence was too overwhelming, his gaze too penetrating.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice soft, your hands nervously twisting.

“Say you’ll give me a chance,” he urged, his voice steady but coaxing, his hand sliding down to rest gently on your thigh. “I’m not going to pressure you,” he said softly, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “But just know that when you’re ready, I’ll be here. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you know that, every single day.”

You shifted slightly, your mind spinning with a mix of emotions.“I- I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” you whispered, almost to yourself, but Nicholas leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke.

“You don’t have to be, baby,” he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. “But just know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nicholas held your gaze for a few more moments, before gently lifting you up, his hand resting protectively around your waist.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, a promise you weren’t sure you were ready to hear, but you couldn’t help but feel a part of you believe it.

As he helped you stand, he turned to you. “Now go lay beside him with my cum dripping out of that tight fucking pussy.”

292 notes · View notes

unknownati · 1 month ago

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Hello! I hope you're doing well :3

Can I get something about Ekko (headcanons, short scenario... you choose the format) with a s/o with chronic migraines? I absolutely love how you write him!! And it would be very special for me, considering that this topic is not talked about enough.

Thank you so much for your contribution to the fandom! ily byee

vi. ekko x gn!reader w/chronic migraines (hcs)

a/n: twin. I GOTCHU 😭🤝 and tysm!

i'm sorry if this isn't up to your expectations, i tried to do extra research on it (i was on r/migraine and like 3 different medical sites for a WHILE.) to make sure i repped u the best i could! please lmk if there's any inaccuracies :(

from what i read, most people's experiences were pretty similar so i tried to keep it in that middle ground.

warnings/tags: fluffy fluffy fluff, lowercase intended, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, descriptions of pain, reader gets insecure at the end (w/ comfort!), just ekko taking care of u like the gentleman he is really, i need this man

_____________________________________________

-ekko didn't quite know how to handle it when you first started getting close.

-you could tell he cared, constantly glancing over at you with worried eyes every time you rubbed your temples and took deep breaths. his hand would rest on your shoulder, and even though you brushed it off, he knew it sucked.

-you somehow managed to keep it pretty low-key until you two started dating.

-the first time he really got a glimpse into it was during a baaad week after you started dating.

-"doin' okay?" he'd murmur, kneeling down next to your duvet shielded figure. all you do is groan, sticking your hand out to find his, interlocking fingers with him.

"yeah, i guessed. brought you some meds, maybe it'll help make you feel a bit better."

he knew he was doing something right when you squeezed his hand and whispered "thank you."

it was the most grateful he's ever heard anyone sound for anything.

and even though those pain meds didn't do the best job in the world, it's the thought that counts!

-afterward, he started with peeking to see what meds you take, constantly keeping them restocked for you. he thinks you don't know he's the one sneaking them into your bag, your cabinet, on your nightstand, etc. you know. there's only one person in your life who you know would leave spray paint stains on the little bottles.

-he'd make sure to keep areas he knows you mainly hung around much dimmer. buys you blackout curtains and figures out how to make controlled light bulbs for you that can be dimmer or brighter as you needed.

-he carries a shocking amount of stuff on him. boom, canteen of water! boom, snacks! boom, painkillers! woah, what's that? ICE PACK! check behind your ears? holy shit it's a heating pad.

-one thing though; as much as he cares for you, he won't baby you. he knows just how capable you are of doing things...he will, however, give you major royal treatment. you will be getting that shoulder massage 🙏🏾

-during days where your migraines are less brutal, he just keeps an eye out for you. makes sure stay hydrated and well fed.

-he does your chores for you during those extended periods, tearing his gloves off to stick his hands into your pile of dishes and clean them up for you. when you shuffle downstairs later in the day to put a cup in there, you find a small little note in front of your now cleared sink.

'hope i could lighten your load (get it) ♡ - e'

-and it was such a stupid joke that almost didn't make sense but you'd be lying if you said you didn't smile wide as fuck when you read it.

-during the extended periods of your migraine attacks, when you're just in bed, he brings you literally anything and everything.

-when you wake up from a nap you can almost always find him cuddled close to you, drool pooling into your pillow.

-and he does not mind leaving where you are just for you to go get some peace and quiet.

-it hits you like a train when you're out with him and a few of his friends. the stinging, pulsing cluster of pain forming behind your eye made you groan. "fuck, baby 'm sorry my head is just...killing me."

"hey guys, we're gonna head out, okay?"

"what? no, you don't have to leave, i can just—"

he flashes you what is the most loving glare you've ever seen and just gets up, ushering you along with him. silence fills the walk back between the lanes, gravel and wrappers crunching beneath your boots.

"i'm sorry." you murmur, smoothing your fingers across the arch of your brow. the way he looks at you when the words leave your mouth made you think he was offended by them.

"why are you apologizing?"

"i just...don't want you to always have to stop enjoying yourself just for me."

"nah, don't say that. it doesn't bother me. plus, it means i get to go home and chill out with you more often, i'm fine with that."

"yeah, but what if i'm just too much? what if you get sick of...doing all this?"

he scoffs, pulling his glove off and stopping you from walking so he can raise your chin, looking at you with eyes so determined but so gentle. his thumb swipes between your brows, making you relax them. "you're never gonna be too much for me. and i won't. ever."

-and trust me.

-he doesn't.

#ekko x you #arcane ekko #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #ekko #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane x reader fluff #arcane fluff #ekko fluff

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astermath · 1 year ago

Text

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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solarwoniii · 1 year ago

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heyy :p can you write something for gunwook? ^^ i'm so in love w him like bffr 💔

POLAROID LOVE ! park gunwook

fluff, angst ♡

📸 a/n ; IM SO SORRY FOR RESPONDING TO THIS SO LATE... IM IN LOVE WITH HIM AS WELL ME TOO BESTIE ME TOO (tysm for your request, i had a lot of fun writing this!)

📸 synopsis ; spring cleaning with gunwook allows for you to come to the realisation that some things simply cannot be let go. [ CHECK OUT THE MINISERIES ]

📸 contains ; boyfriend ! gunwook x fem ! reader, kissing, pet names ; babe/baby, mentions of slut-shaming and bullying, lmk if i missed anything !

📸 wc ; 2.7k (woah)

spring cleaning was one of your least favourite times of year.

sure, it was nice to go back and look at the memories you had collected with your boyfriend, gunwook over the years.

but it was difficult to sort things into the 'keep' and the 'throw away' piles. there were just too many perfect things. photo albums filled with all of your favourite pictures you had taken together. the on-the-verge-of-broken polaroid camera you had bought after graduating high school and used all through college. souvenirs and gifts you had bought for each other and cherished since.

gunwook opened the storeroom door and peeked his head in, finding you sprawled across the floor with all of the photos and albums, looking through each one. you looked back up at him, meeting his eyes with his restless frown.

he walked over, sitting down beside you.

"how are you going?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a proper view at your fixated face.

you groaned in response.

"can't find anything to throw out."

"we don't have to throw things out, you know."

"then what's the point in spring cleaning?" you grumbled, scooting closer to him and leaning your head against his knee. he smiled and put a hand on your head, playing with the loose strands.

"the point is to look at the things we have and cherish our memories. and maybe throw some of the junk out. you're not supposed to try to find the junk, though. you're supposed to have fun."

"cleaning isn't fun." you rebutted, completely disregarding what he'd just said.

"god, you're so negative." he sighed.

"well i'm sorry, mister optimist." you responded gloomily. gunwook reached over to grab one of the photo albums you hadn't opened yet.

"is this the one with our college photos?" he asked, opening the hardcover, grinning at the photos that met his eyes.

you looked up, intrigued by his reaction. he patted the spot between his legs, gesturing for you to sit with him. you took the offer keenly, crawling into the spot and cradling your knees to your chest as you laid back against his shoulder.

"we took these on our first day of college." he smiled, pointing at the polaroid photos on the first page.

you giggled at the old memory, "that hairstyle was not for me."

you flipped the page over, gasping at the photos you'd completely forgotten about. the pictures were both you and gunwook's favourite college memory, polaroid photos you had taken under a cherry blossom tree in spring, the petals on your heads and entangled in your hair.

"i miss this time!"

gunwook hummed in agreement, "you were so cute and stupid in college."

you elbowed his side, making him laugh as he closed the album.

"oh, did you find the charm necklace last week?" he asked, remembering how you had been looking around for the anniversary gift he'd gotten for you in high school.

"no. i haven't been able to find it since we moved here."

"it should be in here somewhere." he responded, rummaging through the different things in the box until his fingers found the chain of the necklace. he pulled it out, showing you the piece of jewelry you'd been looking for.

you gasped, taking it and looking down at it excitedly. there were three charms on the necklace, which gunwook had gotten specially made just for you. a love letter, a star and a raindrop, all things that had taken part in the journey of getting to know each other the two of you had taken.

the love letter. that was probably your favourite of the bunch.

being labelled the 'quiet, pretty, rich, smart, popular girl' all of high school wasn't really as glorious as they made it seem in the hollywood movies. nobody really recognised you for what you were. they all had just pretended to like you because of who you were. your status. all of your friends had used you. they boys who confessed to you never really liked you for anything but your looks. and you constantly heard people talking behind your back because of how 'spoiled and rotten' you were.

and then one day you arrived to school extra early to study for your exam later that week, seeing the tall outline of a boy slipping a letter into the gap in your locker door.

normally when you got letters in your locker it was from random people calling you names or threatening you. it was probably the same thing.

you waited for him to scurry away from your locker and down the hallway, disappearing around the corner before nearing your locker. as you opened it, the letter slipping out and lightly dancing through the air until it landed on the floor.

this letter wasn't like the others. it had a pink heart sticker keeping the paper envelope shut, it wasn't scrunched up or covered in strange stains. it didn't look malicious at all.

you picked up the paper, peeling off the sticker, opening the flap and pulling out the paper.

the letter was sweet. it made you feel appreciated for once. every kind sentence made your heart flutter and your face warm up.

if only you had gotten a better look of the person before they ran away. the letter had no signature.

the next few months carried on. life had changed since that fateful day. a new letter arrived in your locker every friday. it was like a nice gift to conclude your stressful week.

it was almost scary how well this person knew you.

but it was nice having someone value you. even if you weren't close with that someone. even if you didn't really know them.

you wished you knew them. it would be nice to be with someone who understood you.

but oh well.

now you were in chemistry class, your table completely to yourself if you disregarded the quiet boy who sat beside you, clearly not by choice as every other seat in the back had been taken by someone.

his name was park gunwook. you knew absolutely nothing about him except for the fact that he was crazy smart. which made sense. the only time you'd seen him outside of chemistry was at lunchtime. he sat by himself in the back of the cafeteria, headphones plugged in as he studied in his own little corner of the world.

and then the teacher said the words of doom and demise, 'your partner for the project will be whoever you're sitting beside.'

you'd dealt with horrible project partners like it was the back of your hand. people who sat back and did absolutely nothing while you had to work your ass off to complete the entire thing. people who were your 'friends' until it was time to start working. people who somehow did everything but help.

but this would be different.

at least you were on familiar terms with those other people.

how the hell were you supposed to work on a project with park gunwook?

the teacher continued to explain the expectations of the project whilst you sunk into your chair out of despair.

however, much to your surprise, gunwook wasn't all that bad. he did the work, he was actually quite fun to talk with and he had a lot in common with you.

even after the project had ended and the two of you had received your perfect scores, you continued to enjoy each other's company. at lunch you stopped sitting with your horrible friends in preference for sitting with gunwook and studying together. you stopped doing work with them in favour for doing it with gunwook. you began to completely steer away from them.

and you were enjoying every single second of it.

the letters in your locker never stopped throughout all of this. they began to double, now you were receiving them twice a week rather than once.

some of them were short, sentence long letters and others were long, poetic masterpieces that you were sure deserved to be published.

you kept and cherished each envelope.

maybe it was inhumane to be in such a relationship with a person who's name you didn't even know.

but that didn't matter. only you and your anonymous admirer knew about this.

weeks passed and gunwook was now your best friend in the entire world. you told him everything (of course, excluding the letters) and he told you everything. he felt like the only reason you were coming to school everyday.

tonight you were attending a party that all of the seniors had been invited to. you had tried to get gunwook to join you, but parties really weren't his thing.

they were never yours either. but your old friends had asked for you to come. and so you did.

when you arrived they pulled you outside to speak with you.

there they called you all sorts of names.

a slut.

a wannabe.

a bitch.

a loser.

they took photos and videos of you crying as they pushed you around and poured glasses of punch over your head, whilst you sat there completely powerless.

the videos got posted online and were shared around everywhere.

now you were the laughing stock of the school. all in one hour.

you sat there at the curb, the flashing lights and the music from the party inside blaring. you stared into the empty road, the rain pattering down onto your back as tears welled up in your reddening eyes.

your brand new dress was now ruined, covered in bright red stains. your favourite necklace was broken, unfixable after they ripped the piece of jewelry off of your neck and stomped it into the pavement. your image was ruined. now you couldn't even imagine going back to school to face them.

"y/n." a voice from behind you spoke up. you turned around, eyes widened at the sight of gunwook. his hair dripping, the puffer jacket he had on over his clothes soaked, his chest heaving as he was clearly out of breath.

he extended his arm out to you, waiting for you to grab it to use as support to bring yourself to your feet before he threw his arms around you in a hug. "i've been messaging you all night. are you okay?"

"no." you croaked in response.

"fuck them." he said, looking down at you, "they don't deserve you," his hand cupped the side of your face as he wiped away a tear with his thumb.

"i hate it here." you shuddered below your breath.

"come on, then. let's get away from here."

and so gunwook brought you away, his arm around your waist as he brought you to the local park. the both of you soaked in rainwater and drenched in complete silence. not a word was exchanged as the two of you stared up into the stars.

you stayed like that for the next few hours. and although you didn't speak, you could feel the warmth of gunwook's presence right beside you. and you appreciated it more than anything else.

when midnight struck, he walked you home.

and at your door, he said the words of magic.

"i love you."

the videos eventually circled back to your parents. they couldn't believe their eyes.

they refused to let you go back to school.

when you finally did, it wasn't to attend classes. you arrived hours before school opened. and whilst your parents stayed at the front office, filling out your school exit forms, you emptied out your locker for all of your belongings.

it wasn't much to your surprise that there was about a dozen letters from your admirer. but you weren't in the mood to open them.

a week or so passed. you would be starting at your new school tomorrow. you laid in your bed and stared glumly a the ceiling.

you missed gunwook.

but you were way to afraid to open your phone and text him. you were terrified of the thought of going over and visiting his house. you couldn't even think about talking to him.

you had just abandoned him. after he had told you that he loved you.

you didn't even get to tell him back.

you rolled over in your satin sheets and sniffled, tears coming to your eyes.

you didn't want to go to a new school. you wanted to be wherever gunwook was. you never wanted to be apart from him.

because in reality, you loved him too.

you loved him so horrendously much.

you'd been in love with this all of this time. but where on earth would you find the words to depict it? he was your best friend. he was your happiness. he was everything you could ever want. and you were just some silly little girl.

you groaned beneath your breath.

you couldn't sleep. just as you couldn't the night before. and the night before that.

you sat up and looked around the floors of your dim room, until your eyes found something that peaked your interest.

the box that had all of your things from your locker. you'd been much to busy to unpack everything. but that wasn't important right now.

the letters. you pulled yourself out of bed and walked over, sitting down on the carpet space beside the box. you opened the lid and took the pile of letter that had remained unread.

your eyes found one that had a flower taped onto the paper envelope. you tore in open and pulled out the paper. the words that laid before you made your soul escape your body.

my dearest y/n, it's me. park gunwook :)

tears raced uncontrollably down your cheeks as you struggled to find yourself. it was him. he'd been there all along. he'd been yours all along. you were just too naive to see to it.

you stood to your feet and put on your slippers. you opened your bedroom door and went downstairs.

you were going to see him. you had to see him.

you unlocked the front door, your eyes widening as you eyes met park gunwook on the other side, his hand raised as he was clearly about to knock. in his other hand was another letter.

a small smile came to his face.

he was crying, just as you were.

"y/n." the way he whispered your name so delicately, as if you were all he knew.

because you were.

you struggled to speak, the feeling of knives inside your throat beckoning as your bottom lip quivered.

it was raining. pouring down as it was that fateful night.

you threw your arms around him in a hug and closed your eyes without a word. he carefully hugged you back.

"i love you." he said softly.

and this time, you got to say it back.

the memories flooded through your head as you looked down at the necklace.

"come on, i'll put it on for you." gunwook smiled, taking it out of your hands. he pushed you hair to the side as he did up the necklace. he grinned as you looked into the reflection of yourself in the mirror across from the two of you, "beautiful." he whispered.

you leaned back against his body as he wrapped him arms around you. you turned to the pile of things until your eyes widened at something you recognised.

the polaroid camera.

you quickly picked it up.

"does this thing still work?" you turned your head to gunwook, who looked at it unsurely.

"well, we can test it out." he suggested. you nodded your head and held it up, making sure the two of you were within frame.

"smile, loser." you said.

flash! went the camera and out came your image. you frowned at the empty polaroid film.

"it didn't work."

gunwook grinned and shook his head, "you have to wait for it. it takes a second." he said, "in the meantime," he cupped the side of your face as he connected his lips to yours in a gentle kiss, "i love you."

you felt a warm sensation rush to your cheeks as he kissed you again. and again. and again.

you were short of breath when he finally kissed your cheek and looked to your eyes lovingly, before down at the polaroid. he chuckled and picked it up.

"we both blinked." he said.

you took the photo from his hands and picked up the camera.

"we can try again." you suggested with a grin.

maybe after today you would stop hating spring cleaning so much.

#gunwook #park gunwook #zb1 #zerobaseone #gunwook zb1 #gunwook zerobaseone #park gunwook boys planet #gunwook fluff #gunwook drabble #gunwook imagine #zb1 fluff #zb1 drabble #zb1 imagines #boys planet fluff #boys planet drabbles #boys planet imagines #��askbox !

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vanillarosekiss · 17 days ago

Note

im so so so excited for angers aftermath part 2. screeches its one of the best things ive ever read <3333

Aw thankyou!! Just for you I decided to get up and write it<3 Im so sorry this is LONG overdue, i've been super busy with exams, but i'm so glad to be able to write frequently again for you guys♡ so without further adieu...

Anger’s Aftermath pt.2 ⋆⁺₊❅.

warnings: amab!reader x John Price, language, panic attack, angsty-ish, suggestive towards the end! (lmk if i forgot any).

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Your chest heaved as Price's hands gripped your shoulders firmly.

"Breathe with me. That's it.." His voice seemed to anchor you from the other thoughts that were swirling your head. But they didn't go so fast.

"I cant-" You gasped, panic clawing at you as your breaths stayed jagged.

"Yes, you can," Price said, his grip slightly tightening. His level of calm authority split through the chaos erupting in your head.

"I've got you." He reassured you gently.

You began to mirror his deep, deliberate breathes. It wasn't easy at first, hell it was almost embarrassing to be in this situation, in front of your Captain. But soon enough, the air started to come easier and the suffocating feeling in your chest loosened.

When the sobs hit, they came hard and unforgiving.

"Why do I keep screwing everything up?" You choked out, shaking your head, "Why can't I just-"

"You're not screwing anything up," Price interrupted you, his voice softer than before. He shifted closer, one hand moving to your mid-back. "You're human, and you're tired. That doesn't make you weak."

You shoulders trembled slightly at this, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I hate this. I hate feeling like this so much."

"I know," He said quietly. His hand moved slow, grounding circles now on your lower back. "You're not alone though. You've got me."

A shaky laugh managed to escape you. "Thought I was just a pain in the arse."

"You are," he said, smirking faintly. "But even you deserve to be able to talk to someone."

The tension between you eased, replaced by something softer... unknown. Price stayed close, his presence calming you.

"Thanks," you mumbled, your voice a little raw.

"Get some rest. You've had enough for one night."

But he didn't leave, instead settling beside you, his gaze unreadable. A new sort of tension began to build, one that was different than anything you'd ever felt before. It was almost.. intimate? No, that was impossible. Not for your Captain, no. But the more you subtly studied his features, the more you wanted him to comfort you. In other ways than he already had.

"What are you thinking about?" He said, his hand finding it's way to your shoulder, thumb brushing your collarbone absent-mindedly. There was a silence, heavy with something that was unspoken of. You saw his concerned gaze flicker to your lips for the briefest moment before he caught himself, his jaw tightening. His hand trailed down to your upper arm, leaving a tingling sensation in it's wake. Your breath hitched slightly as his voice dropped to a low murmur.

"Is this ok?" The vulnerability in his question sent something through you, and you nodded, unable to find the words to express yourself.

You could feel the inevitable happening, his body moving closer, his lips moving closer. The rest of the world and it's problems blurred as his lips grazed yours, before meeting them softly. As the kiss deepened, the heat of the moment suddenly struck you. You simmered in the gentle passion of the kiss, enjoying every bit but longing for more than this, more than a short-lived feeling of ecstasy...

Ok i'm really unsure whether to continue this and do a pt3 or not? I really didn't want to rush any smut, but I can try to write some if anyone wants it..? I feel like so far this is just super sweet fluff! Also can we please ignore my misuse and inconsistency of punctuation and capitals in my work?? As and English Literature student it's already embarrassing enough, but I reaaally don't have the time :b

#cod men #⋆˙⟡ { 🦢 }#tf 141 #captain john price #*๑♡՞ { 🌙 }#john price smut #babylove #angst #john price #captain price #price x reader #price cod #price x male reader #male reader #mlm love #mlm #mlm thoughts #anon ask #vanillarosekiss

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kookiecrumb · 2 years ago

Text

JJK || Take Care of You

Chapter 3: Bro, why is your housekeeper so hot?

chapter summary: Taehyung opens his big mouth and chats up everybody about Jungkook's hot new housekeeper. It catches the immediate attention of BTS' leader, Kim Namjoon.

wc: 4.1K

tags: fake dating, jungkook comes home a little drunk, namjoon gets kicked in the balls, some talk about previous body dysmorphia (lmk if i missed anything).

previous chapter | series masterlist ♡

That day, Taehyung came into the HYBE building with news to share to all 5 remaining members of BTS: that Jungkook had a pretty housemaid who he definitely wasn't cheating on Seunghee with.

He goes from studio to studio, greeting the members in their small clusters and explaining the news with a saucy look on his face. It's almost smug.

Their reactions are priceless, every time.

Yoongi is the first one he tells. Tae interrupts him in the middle of one of his producing sessions to stand over him and explain his interaction with you earlier today.

To Taehyung's surprise, Yoongi simply shrugs it off and makes a mental note to talk to Jungkook later and verify the information.

Once he's satisfied with Yoongi's reaction, he goes looking for Hoseok, who simply smiles at him and asks if you're really that hot.

"Hotter than my sister?" He pokes fun at Taehyung's crush.

"They're pretty in different ways," Taehyung replies, dodging the question. "But still– don't you find it super suspicious?"

Hoseok puts down his chopsticks next to his mixing board and crosses his arms, crunching down on his last bite of food. "Hmm…hmm hmm hmm…"

"It would all depend if Seunghee knew about it or not, right? If she knew about it and let it happen, it would paint her as a bad girlfriend…but if she does know and is okay with it, that would make her look weak," He contemplates.

"I don't care how it makes her look–" Taehyung shakes his head, smiling. "I want to hear him explain it, to hear the words from his mouth."

"Whatever," he sighs, pulling back into his mixing station. "Thanks," he adds, dismissing Tae.

It just feels like Taehyung is trying to stir the pot, and Hoseok wants absolutely no part in it. He knows that Jin will have a problem with it, though.

Jin is casually leaning over one of the studio sofas, clutching a game controller between his hands as he plays a video game.

Taehyung rushes in through the door, bursting his bubble of concentration and causing him to lose the level.

"Shit! Taehyung– what?!" He yells, putting his controller down.

"I have news," he replies.

Jin leans in, signifying for him to go on.

"Jungkook has a housekeeper now," he says.

That's barely news. Half of the guys have hired personal chefs or workers that come in and fix up their place every once in a while. It's not a big deal.

"...so?"

"...So, she's hot," Taehyung says.

Jin wipes his face. "If you really want, I'll talk to him about it later. You didn't have to interrupt me."

"I'm sorry," he replies.

"That's…okay, Taehyung. Thank you for the news," Jin nods.

Perhaps Taehyung is a little too excited about something that might be easily explained. Perhaps it's one of those situations that can be taken the wrong way upon first glance.

But then, again, Jungkook could simply explain his situation to each of them during group activities if he really wanted to.

No, Jungkook chose to hide this fact from the rest of the group, and that's shady.

Finally, Taehyung finds Namjoon and Jimin in the songwriting nook.

Jimin is vocalizing casually, reading a line he has written down in front of him in different ways, spontaneously and experimentally.

Meanwhile, Namjoon is carefully reading a book called ’How to Make Friends and Influence People.’

You'd think he'd already learned to do that by now, but Taehyung doesn't question it.

"I have news and it's good news so you better listen up," Taehyung says, standing between the both of them.

Jimin's eyes roll towards him, but his body stays in a casual position on a nearby chair.

Namjoon looks over his book, setting it face-up on his chest. His legs dangle off the side of the hammock, incredibly at ease. He's the group's leader, so he appears collected and enlightened. His energy is what grounds BTS.

"What is it, then?" Namjoon prompts, eager to get back to his reading.

"Jungkook has a girl in his house and it's not Seunghee," he announces.

Jimin covers his mouth, as if the information was some sort of hilarious shock.

Namjoon is intrigued. "Is it his mom?" He asks, jokingly.

"No. That's the best part," Taehyung elaborates. "She's this super hot girl who told me she was his housekeeper."

Jimin sits up and holds himself together. "Okay, well that could mean anything. Maybe he didn't have a choice in who he got, he reasons. "Jungkook might be the type to overlook or ignore stuff like age and gender when it comes to this sort of thing."

"No…it means I'm asking her out," Namjoon counters.

Taehyung bites his lip. "Huh? Why would you do that?"

Jimin has already caught on and is currently detaching himself from the conversation before he gets himself involved in something he really doesn't want to be a part of.

"Because…if he really isn't fucking her, then he'd be fine with me taking her out and shit. It'll be obvious from the look on his face when I tell him." He conjures up a plan in his mind to reveal Jungkook's true intentions about you. It's kind of genius.

If Jungkook shows any other emotion but slight confusion at the announcement, then it would be clear that he had some ulterior motive for hiring you or at least not firing you immediately because he has a girlfriend.

"It's foolproof," he adds.

"I wouldn't go that far…I just thought it was funny. Like, funny weird," Taehyung shrugs.

"I guess." Namjoon snaps out of his daydream. "Thanks, Taehyung."

"...Yeah."

Back home, you're pinching a piece of fried chicken between two chopsticks while halfway through your third episode of the historical drama. Tears are running down your face.

"No! It should have been her!" You yell at the television in frustration. "You don't belong with Yeri, you belong with Sooyoung!"

You never knew Korean dramas could have such a hold on you. American dramas never grab you by the gut like this.

You stuff another piece of honey hot fried chicken and carefully put everything away so you can have it for dinner. The portion sizes here are unsurprisingly smaller, and you could finish the whole thing, but you should really get ready to take the dogs out again.

Carefully placing your food on the top shelf of the fridge along with your extra sauces, you look around for all three dogs, scattered around the living room.

As soon as you unhook each leash and harness from their respective holders, they come running with smiling faces.

"So cute," you coo.

You let them run around in the front yard garden, playing fetch with them and putting them when they bring back their toys for you to throw again.

The garden is made up of mostly native species of plants, with a few fruit trees dangling their fruits above your head. Some of them are in season, but you're not sure which ones so you don't touch any just yet.

The grass is long and thick, speckles of lavender flowers and scattered lilac trees juxtapose the architecturally brutalist structure of the house.

You admire the time and effort put into growing each species of plant, counting how many different kinds of flowers you see.

It relaxes and refreshes you.

Some long branches of the trees extend beyond the walls of the home, and some reach down below as if they're to sit on.

Carved stone fountains of water create a rushing sound that soothes your mind. Everything is calm and happy.

"This is the way things should be," you think, humming and scratching Paengi affectionately.

It looks like your pals need some water.

You walk backwards into the home, beckoning the dogs back inside while holding a bag of treats as bait. You shuffle your feet backwards deeper into the house until you hit something– warm.

Namjoon falls to the ground, grabbing his crotch and wincing in pain. "Shhhh….fuck!"

"Oh! Oh no–" you exclaim, taken completely aback. You don't even register it's him at first. "Are your nuts okay? I mean–"

"What?!" He groans in agony, making a sour face.

Your mouth stumbles open but each time you try to form a coherent sentence, words fail you. "Uh--uhm. Uhm,"

You look around and spot a plastic baggie on the countertop. You have a shitty idea as to how to handle the situation.

Without hesitation, you scoop a bunch of ice cubes into the baggie and grab a presumably clean hand-towel to wrap it in.

Rushing to Namjoon's aid, you place the make-shift ice pack on his abdomen. He takes it and applies it to himself, feeling a surge of relief.

"Do you want some ibuprofen? I mean I don't know where the medicine cabinet is, but I can definitely look. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you there, I promise it's just I didn't see you and now this is a whole mess and…" you ramble.

"Wait, why are you here anyways?" You squint, suspicious of his interests.

Moments later, he's sitting on the couch with his ice pack waiting for you to get back with his pills.

Once he's downed both of them with a long, refreshing glass of water, he opens up.

"Okay. I was planning on not telling you initially but I'm not a bad person so I'm going to tell you the plan straight up," he starts.

You nod.

"Jungkook probably likes you,"

Pause.

"But Jungkook isn't the type to fall fast," you remark.

"Oh, no, go ahead, sorry," Namjoon mocks, "you definitely know more about the guy I've lived with for ten years than I do."

Namjoon stuffs a handful of cashews in his mouth and crunches them loudly.

You give him a doubtful look.

"Anyways," he continues, "this is only a theory. A theory that is absolutely provable. This is where you and I come in." Namjoon checks if you're following along, studying your expression carefully. "You and I need to pretend to date–"

"No."

Namjoon crosses his arms. "Okay, I take that personally. What the fuck."

"Don't get the wrong idea! It's not you. It's just that I know dating an idol is a lot of pressure and it'd be weird because we literally just met and…"

"And? We're not going to be an actual…couple thing, okay? We're gonna just make it seem as if we are to Jungkook, mainly. Not to the public, not to the other members, just Jungkook," he reasons, stuffing another handful of cashew nuts in his mouth.

"...damn, these are good," he checks the label of the nut packaging.

"Just Jungkook. No other random…dates, public things…interviews…nothing?" You ask.

"Nothing," he confirms. "I want to test his loyalty and this is the safest way to do so."

"And if the media gets the wrong idea and I get death threats from people I don't even know?" You laugh.

"You won't."

Namjoon stares. "You won't."

So, you shake his hand and agree to his scheme for the sake of his peace of mind. Plus, you still feel kind of bad for kicking his nutsack.

He leaves soon after, with his hands in his pocket and a shallow smile. Namjoon is now your canonical boyfriend who will engage in all sorts of lovey-dovey gestures whenever Jungkook is around.

He told you he'd tell him tomorrow night that the two of you hit it off and one thing led to another. The only thing you're worried about is whether or not Jungkook would be upset at you for it.

There's scarcely a reason to. I mean, people fall in love and there's no helping that. He, of all people, should understand.

You can't help but have this aching knot in your stomach as you prepare dinner, though.

Jungkook has been your bias for a long time. Your heart has always belonged to him.

When he mentioned his girlfriend, his face dropped as if he knew it would disappoint you, to the point where it looked like he was disappointed as well.

Did that mean he regretted his decision to date?

You curse your thoughts. They only cause you to overthink and worry about things that you have no control over.

Then again, they may reveal important truths about Jungkook's feelings towards having you in the house.

Today, Jungkook has a dinner, presumably with Namjoon and the other members. He didn't mention when he'd be back, but you'll prepare the home for when he returns early, nonetheless.

You carefully remove the microwavable container with leftover chicken and pour in a box of precooked vegetable rice. Then, you grab a cup from the cupboard and pour yourself a drink of water before sitting down at the counter and casually turning on the television.

You flip through the channel guide, but there seems to be nothing too good on, so you turn it off and eat in silence.

Your heart pounds. Namjoon might be telling Jungkook right this moment that you're dating. You spend a significant amount of time trying to estimate his reaction, recreating the faces as you consider them.

You need to trust Namjoon. If there's a chance Jungkook will kick you out for dating his coworker, you hope that he will take you in and get you back on your feet.

Besides, tomorrow is your day off. You technically have no duties as of midnight.

Still, anxious thoughts linger as you finish your last bite of your food.

Cleaning up around the house afterwards was easy. Of course, you still had to take the dogs out again, but it was already dark. You took them out to the garden instead, which was now illuminated by evening outdoor lighting.

But, once you fed them and put them to bed, you had time to put the final touches on the home.

How could you possibly make this space something Jungkook would want to come home to?

You turn off the television and locate the control panel for the moonlighting. You set it to a calming purple. It's his most recent favorite color.

It is a bit arid in the house, so you turn on two of his diffusers: the one nearest to the door, and the one next to the couch, adding ten drops of oil to each one.

You pick up each throw pillow and fluff them while humming.

You should turn on some music!

Fetching your phone from your bag on the countertop, you connect it to the Bluetooth device under the television and put on some Coldplay. It's a safe bet, given what Jungkook has shared about his music taste.

Oh!

You remember something. Jungkook has a lightshow projector upstairs. That would be a nice touch, you think.

With light feet, you climb up the stairs to Jungkook's room and turn on his projector so that the walls flash with mesmerizing colors and shapes.

Taking one last look around, you decide that it is up to your standard of comfort.

You climb back down and hit the wooden floor with a thud, looking around.

"Beautiful!" you smile brightly.

Just then, Jungkook comes through the door and hangs his scarf up on the coathanger. "What is, you?" He laughs. "I'm just messing with you…"

You compulsively laugh at your boss' joke, although it wasn't exactly in good taste. "Uhm, yeah…"

"Wow," Jungkook gasps, looking around. "The house looks great…" he scans his surroundings.

The strong scent of alcohol hits your nose, causing your face to sour. Oh, he's drunk.

"How long did it take you to, uh," he approaches you, "do all this, huh?"

Keep it cool. Keep it calm. Keep it together.

"Not too long. I did some more heavy-duty cleaning this morning and then I put the finishing touches on it just a few minutes ago," you reply, your eyes dropping to his chest.

"All day, you were inside. You're not messing around with Namjoon around here while I'm away, are you?" Jungkook asks in a joking tone, an underlying severity in his joke. It's almost threatening.

That sets you off.

"No. He and I are just talking," you blow it off, hoping he'll just move on to another subject.

"Yeah, well that's not what he told me," he raises his voice. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

You won't.

"Do you think just because I hired you, you're now allowed to date my friends blatantly? You're inserting yourself into things you know nothing about, Y/N. Namjoon doesn't date girls like that," he rants.

"Why not?" You ask, sheepishly.

"Because– Because," he laughs, tauntingly as his tired mind tries to come up with a lame excuse. "I don't have time for this. I'm going to bed."

Jungkook pushes past you and stumbles up the stairs.

You're left frustrated.

You took care of the place and his dogs for the whole day just to be disrespected by him. What kind of person wanders home, drunk out of their ass, tells their housekeeper who they can and can't date and then takes it back and scrambles up the stairs like that?

A jealous one.

That's what you fall asleep thinking, anyways. Jungkook is upset because you're dating his coworker instead of him. That's the only explanation.

So, you brush it off, having your suspicions nearly confirmed as you prepare for bed in your own room, only a little distraught by Jungkook's harsh confrontation.

He did react rather interestingly, though, and that's what you've got to report back to Namjoon.

You cannot wait to tell him the news tomorrow afternoon.

Quite frankly, you feel validated. You are almost certain that your bias has a crush on you and can't come to terms with it.

You don't even care about the implications of that. It only inspires you to arrange more displays of affection with Namjoon in order to piss him off a little more.

At this point, you are confident that you'll be able to make him admit what he's so evidently running from: the fact that he has lost feelings for his girlfriend and taken a liking to you.

Convinced of the fact, you draw a bath to relax. Tomorrow will be your first day off and you plan on spending it spinning a web of intricate illusions to further prove your theory.

Two hot men are playing the game of love with you. It's all in your grip. All you have to do is secure it.

You sink into the water with a relaxed sigh, smiling from ear to ear.

There's nothing better than the feeling of being in control. It excites you.

Tomorrow, you're going to be free on the streets of Gangnam. There's nothing stopping you from having the time of your life.

Except you, of course.

You wake up alarmingly late.

Jungkook is gone, the dogs are gone, and the house is quiet.

You rub your face in frustration and turn on your phone for the time. It's almost 12 in the afternoon and you have yet to make any plans.

You blame it on the jet lag, but you know it's because of how exhausted you felt after Jungkook's little outburst. You spent too much time thinking about it, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if conspiring with Namjoon was the right decision.

By the time you felt sleepy, you hadn't made up your mind. It didn't matter. The consequences of your actions will come to you no matter the cost.

It's karma or whatever.

Below the time are two texts from the same unlisted number: "Hey it's Joon," and "Meet me for lunch here?"

Attached to the second message is a screenshot of a Naver search. He could have just made your life easier and sent you the address like a normal human being but that's Namjoon for you.

With barely-open eyes, you type in the name of the restaurant into Google maps and find the place. It looks walkable. It also looks kind of fancy. You wouldn't know what to wear to that.

Namjoon shoots you another message, prompting you to make a decision: "???"

You can figure something out. You always do.

"Yeah, what time?" You reply.

"An hour and a half. I have reservations. Bring an ID." He sends three consecutive texts. Who does that?

"Ok."

You rise from your bed, stretching out and taking a good look around. Time to get moving.

The first thing you do is open up the windows to let the light and the new air in. It's nearing springtime in Korea, so it's getting warmer by the day.

Your clothes are neatly stored within your drawers and only a few dresses hang in your closet with your shoes. There are flats, heels, and basic sneakers but no sandals or flip-flops yet. You can always buy more of those.

You open your nightstand drawer to access the money Jungkook has gifted you upon arrival, and arrange it inside your wallet, and then place your wallet within your bag.

It's a Louis Vuitton bag, and it was your first, gifted to you by your mother on your twentieth birthday. It's one of your prized possessions, so you've made sure to take proper care of it and use it to its full extent.

You decide on a long-sleeved blue dress that cinches at the waist and brings attention to your shoulders.

You wear a simple makeup look, selecting a neutral lip gloss and eyeshadow to match. The rest is just fine.

For jewelry, you choose a small crystal necklace with matching earrings to draw attention to your face.

Beautiful.

You've grown into such a beautiful young woman. It's something you're grateful for, everyday.

There have been times during which you felt you were not beautiful enough. You felt as if you were too fat, and sometimes too skinny. You've distorted parts of yourself that were natural in order to fit into a standard that didn't reflect the reality that you are fine the way you are.

Today, you look upon yourself and see the care you've put into making sure you're not only happy with the way you look, but also healthy.

You carry this uplifting energy with you wherever you go. It is beauty.

You slip on a pair of baby blue flats and pick up your sunglasses. It's time to go.

The walk is pleasant. The streets are very pedestrian-friendly because of the avid nightlife that corrupts the streets after sundown. There is plenty of space for you to walk and enjoy the city.

There are people jogging, walking their dogs, or simply walking together towards the downtown area to check out the happenings.

It seems as if the city of Seoul is alive and well, with many exciting developments happening all around you.

There are many cafés open, their music teasing your ear as you walk by. It is a bit early for lunch, so some places are still serving breakfast.

Mannequins display the latest styles in front of clothing stores. Spring pastels are in, and the refreshing, bright looks are almost always having some sort of special.

The sizes are confusing so far, so you refrain from entering any of them. You're sure that you'll get around to clothes shopping eventually.

Your phone buzzes, indicating that you've arrived at your destination.

The storefront has an open concept, natural lighting and crowds of tables filled with people enthusiastically conversing about just about anything. You walk inside to find a buffet front and center, with just about any food you can imagine.

It is a self-seating restaurant. How are you supposed to find Namjoon in the midst of all these people? It's better to call him, you think.

Just then, a woman appears in front of you wearing a uniform and a small name tag. "Are you Y/N? We have a reservation in the name of a special guest for you."

"...Yes, that's me. Can you show me to him?" You ask, kindly. That's convenient.

You follow her through the maze of tables, thinking that Namjoon would be among them, but she ends up taking you deeper into the restaurant to a special guest area that's closed off to the everyday visitors.

There are whole rooms dedicated to tables, reserved for those willing to pay for a more private space.

She guides you into one of these rooms, where Namjoon is seated patiently, across from Jungkook and a girl who you assume can only be Seunghee.

You've been tricked into a double date.

permatag gang gang: @btsarmyakasammy , @kooliv , @koobsessed , @angelwonie , @carolynandjohn , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz , @swyseren, @sxtaep , @koostarcandy , @hgema , @jjkeverlast , @armys-dna , @nglmrk , @devilsbooksworld , @saweetspoiled , @exactlyfuriouscoffee and @unicornbabylover

taglist for this series: @bbl32 @sspidermanss @mageprincess7 @bruisedscrewedandtattooed @charliesfanficlibrary @janedukiesworld @sweetcheeksdna @yoongukie-ff

a/n: going on hiatus for a bit. personal.

#jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader angst #jungkook x reader fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #jungkook au #bts idol au #bts x reader #bts series #bts imagines #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n

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