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bratkook · 1 year ago

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deep six: dancing with death. (m) jjk

part one. part two. v-day drabble

pairing. biker!jk x reader genre. smut, fluff warnings. infidelity (but its ok i promise), protected s*x, oral, jungkook is kinda whiny and that itself deserves a warning, they're just fluffy and mushy and love each other they just dont know it yet word count. 12.2k summary. you've always known to stay away from the tombstone patches, told they were the enemy, that you'd be betraying your club if you chose not to listen. but an unsuspected friendship makes you think that maybe not everyone was as bad as you were made to believe. author’s note. hihiiii, this is a prequel to the deep six series! aka how jungkook and oc start their friendship and have it blossom into what it becomes in part one of deep six. i truly love these two so much, something about their forbidden love and how jungkook is tough and dangerous but oh so sweet to her makes me fucking melt!!! ok hope u enjoy it bye ily muah

The world is a constant blur, days merging, memories hazy and bleeding together in your mind. The only time you enjoy the blur is now, sitting on your bike as you flow through the streets. Exiting Cobra territory made you feel free, the streets widening up the further you got, allowing you to cruise without the fear of getting swiped by a careless driver.

Your eyes fall shut briefly, taking a slow breath as you try to push the earlier feelings away. Minho was having a bad day, a deal he had hoped to make to start running ice falling through, the man in charge deciding to go with a neighboring club instead. It wasn’t your fault the man thought Minho was too hot headed and messy to not find a way to mess this deal up, wanting a club with more reach, more connections and reliability than the Cobras could offer. That didn’t stop Minho from treating you like it was your fault, doing what he did best before barking orders at you to go for a run, desperately needing alcohol to drown his emotions.

The earlier fear still rattles you, leaves your fingers trembling slightly as they clutch the handles and accelerate. He couldn’t hurt you here, and that's all the comfort you need at the moment, finally pulling into the familiar parking lot of the bodega. There’s a few cars parked inside, a lone scooter tossed by the sidewalk, and a shiny black bike parked by the entrance.

You eye it for a moment, always checking for visible tags that let you know if the bike belonged to a club that had the Cobra’s high on their hit list. It’d be easy to act dumb if it was, no identifying items on you, knowing better than to roam the streets without Minho with a serpent stamped on you.

When you find nothing you decide it’s fine, knowing you were on a time crunch to get what he wanted. With another slow breath you step off your bike, already feeling your earlier nerves fade away as you enter your comfort space. It seems odd to consider it one, but something about the buzzing fluorescent lighting and peeling laminate made you feel like an individual.

Music plays through a portable speaker by the cashier, the worker greeting you with a smile that you return before you turn down your favorite aisle. That’s when you spot him again. The Deep Six member in the same spot he was in the last time you saw him a few weeks ago. It had been a close encounter then, not realizing who he was with your boyfriend standing outside. But his arms are revealed to you now, markings on his skin making it clear what club he belonged to, leaving no room for confusion. If that somehow wasn’t enough the giant patches on his vest and the glimmering rings on his fingers spell it out, literally.

You approach him slowly, not sure if you trust him but not fully on edge like you were before, knowing Minho’s watchful eyes weren’t observing your every move. Without the ticking bomb a few feet away you allow yourself to slightly relax in the presence of him, assuming he had no idea who you were, clearly too focused on his candy selection.

Sure you were on a run for Minho but you always pick something up for yourself. A small smile is already on your lips as your eyes land on the sour straws, ready to pick your flavor of choice, only to find it completely empty. Instantly you know the culprit is the man next to you, remembering the way you had reached for the same candy last time you saw him here by chance, and as you turn to stare at him you see his palms cradling four packets of the sour straws, a teasing smile on his face as he meets your eyes. Greedy.

“Sorry,” he breathes out, sounding anything but, trying desperately not to laugh and failing as he makes his way to the front to pay. You don’t even respond to him, admitting defeat as you settle on the green apple flavored ones before you return to your earlier task, finding a case of Minho’s favorite beer and paying for it.

The heat welcomes you once more outside, loading up the beer and candy into the saddlebags on the side of your bike, already forgetting about the candy thief from inside.

“Hey, Snake!” A voice cuts through the air, making you freeze as you search for it, finding the Six standing by the shiny black bike you had spotted earlier. He reaches into his pocket, still smiling as he pulls out the blue raspberry sour straw packet, tossing it your way with ease.

You catch it with both palms, momentarily stunned at the small gesture and at the fact that he clearly knew you were associated with the Cobras. The rumble of his engine snaps you out of it, smiling slightly as you look up at him once more, a breathless thank you escaping your lips before he is smiling back and peeling out of the parking lot.

When you live the life you do, constantly on edge with a paranoid boyfriend questioning everyone’s intentions, it's hard not to let his way of thinking affect your own. Even as you sit back at the clubhouse, holding onto that packet of candy, you can’t help but wonder if maybe the Six’s seemingly sweet gesture was a trap. Maybe he was testing to see how gullible you are, stupid enough to interact with him, to use you to send a message to the Cobras. It wouldn’t be the first time. Minho’s reign made you an easy target, knowing you had a lot of enemies that would love to make a lesson of you.

It's been so long since anyone has shown you genuine kindness with no strings attached, and as you finally enjoy your treat, you can’t stop the warm feeling of hope in your chest that maybe not everyone was as bad as you were made to believe.

You don’t return to your comfort space again until two weeks later, on another run for the club. Minho seemed to think if he gave you pointless errands to run you’d be satisfied, content with the loveless relationship and mundane everyday life. It was his way of keeping you on a leash, making you follow orders and letting the lead slacken up, only tightening it back up to remind you he was all you had. But you’d take the small moments of peace wherever you could get them.

The lot is empty today as you pull in, the only car belonging to the worker inside. The moment of solitude only lasts for a minute, a loud rumble cutting through the air as another bike pulls in beside you. You tense up immediately, whipping your head to assess the situation, spotting the familiar Six too lost in his thoughts to realize you were here. He furrows his brows as he takes off his helmet, adjusting the large rings on his fingers before he glances your way, jumping slightly when he notices it's you.

You eye him curiously, hands coming up to the key in the ignition, ready to start it up and tail out of here if he made a move. Minho had made a claim of some other club trying to ambush a deal earlier today, an unlucky hangout being the only one hurt, but without an identifying patch it left him on edge more than normal. So far the Six didn’t make you feel like you had to be wary, but you couldn’t be so sure.

He seems to sense it, his arms raising up in surrender as he stays on his bike. “It’s okay snake, I don’t bite.” He smiles at his own stupid remark, but it slowly falls off his face when he sees the stoic expression remains on yours. “Seriously though, I’m just here for some smokes and a treat. I can go somewhere else if it really makes you this uncomfortable though.”

“Why aren’t you somewhere else to begin with?” you bite back, still not trusting that he wasn’t trying to trap you.

Jungkook just sighs, hand coming up to ruffle up his helmet hair. “It’s nice to get away sometimes. This is neutral grounds, you know as best as I do that anything club related done here is a death wish.” He lets you process his statement, seeing the way you continue to eye him, your gaze tracing along the patches he wears. The large tombstone taunts you, torn and a little rugged on the edges, showing just how long he’s been wearing it. “Why aren’t you somewhere on your side of town?”

You purse your lips, looking away from him as you pull your hand away from your key, getting off your bike, deciding this conversation was better to have inside your little safe space. “Like you said, it’s nice to get away sometimes.” You hook your helmet over your handle, reaching the bodega’s door and holding it open as you look back at him. “You coming?”

He seems to snap out of it, quickly hopping off his bike and jogging your way, saying a quick greeting to the worker before going down the familiar aisle. He smiles when he sees you next to those damn sour straws.

“Those must be your favorite huh?”

You give him a quick glance, seeing the smile on his lips before you turn back and grab a packet of the candy. “They are, so try not to take all of them at once again.”

He lets out a soft laugh, reaching forward and grabbing a couple of the same. “I gave you one last time, which says a lot because I don’t really like sharing.”

“A Six that doesn’t like sharing? That’s not surprising.” Your words are light, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you turn around and continue roaming the aisle.

“Not as surprising as a Snake trying to tell me what to do.” The crinkling of plastic fills the store as he rips open his packet, taking a bite of a sour straw as he tries to hide his own smile when you give him an eye roll.

“I’m not technically a Snake,” you mutter out, finger tracing along the chocolate bar you were contemplating grabbing. It wasn’t a lie, you didn’t wear the patch, you weren’t granted the perks of being a part of the club, nothing you said held any weight on the decisions they made. You weren’t a Cobra, you just belonged to one of them. Though that didn’t seem like the wisest thing to tell him, you knew the history between Deep Six and the Cobras, and telling him you belonged to Minho of all people would put you high up on his list of people to hurt if he had bad intentions to begin with.

“Oh? You just like to hang on to the back of one then?”

“Something like that,” you sigh, deciding not to grab the extra treat, turning to look at him fully once more. “Are you gonna keep calling me a snake?”

His tongue prods along his cheek as he looks down at you, eyebrow slowly cocking up. “What would you rather I call you?”

“Y/N.”

He nods slowly, letting your name settle into his mind before he was reaching his hand out, the golden glimmering rings spelling out SIX shining in the light. You eye his hand for a minute before grabbing it in a gentle handshake, seeing the way he smiles before saying his own name.

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook was proud of his club, wore his patch with pride, did everything he could to show his loyalty. So why was he starting to tell white lies to his brothers, making up excuses to justify why he was going to the bodega on neutral grounds directly after finishing a job. He knew what would happen if they knew who he was talking to, slowly befriending. His only rational excuse was the fact that you had said you weren’t technically a Cobra, and although he’s not sure how well that would hold up to the rest of his members, it was the only excuse that helped ease his guilt.

He was currently sat on the small sidewalk outside of the bodega, elbows leaning on his knees as he glanced around the empty lot. You had been meeting here once every week or so. He had started to take note of the typical times you’d be sent on runs of your own, choosing to coincidentally run into you at the same time. You had yet to arrive today though, leaving him waiting for fifteen minutes, wondering if maybe you wouldn’t be showing up today.

Just before he decides to head out, you pull into the lot on your Dyna, a smile on your face when you spot him sitting on the sidewalk like a child.

“You’re late,” he calls out, grabbing a packet of candy and tossing it your way when you get off your bike and head towards him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware we had a time set for our little play dates.” You open up the candy, taking a bite and shutting your eyes at the sour taste. Jungkook laughs at your expression, patting the sidewalk beside him for you to settle into.

“I can’t be left unsupervised, you should know this by now.”

You laugh now, taking a look at the bodega and the surrounding area. “Nothing seems to be destroyed, I think you do just fine unsupervised.”

He leans back on his palm, raking back his dark hair as he stares into the sky in thought. “I tend to cause psychological damage, not too big on destroying property.”

“Got it. So you torture people?”

Jungkook chuckles, turning to look at you slightly, a small twinkle of mischief flashing in his eyes as he smiles. “Exactly.”

You can only laugh, not exactly sure how truthful he was being with his little joke. The both of you made an effort to not discuss the intricacies of your clubs, not entirely sure what it was that you both did for them, knowing things would get too messy and tangled up if you did. Instead you talk about yourselves, knowing small anecdotes of each other’s childhoods, recounting stories of when he took a few tumbles on his bike when he was just starting to learn to ride, ones of you before the life of the Cobras was all you knew.

It was a brief moment of normalcy, being able to talk to someone else, laughing over dumb jokes while sharing candy. It made you forget how twisted all of it was until you returned back home.

Jungkook just appreciated having a new friend, someone to talk to about things that didn’t have to do with his club. He just wished he could talk to you in moments that lasted longer than the brief bodega hang outs. So as you both finish up, loading up your bike with the items you were told to come pick up, he takes a leap of faith.

“Hey, can I—uh. Can I have your number?” He looks uncharacteristically shy as he asks this, one hand rubbing along the back of his neck. “To arrange our play dates,” he adds jokingly, a small smile on his lips in hopes of softening the blow of potential rejection as he reaches for his phone and hands it over.

You freeze instantly, staring at his device as the voice in your head tells you not to, screams that this would get you in trouble. But the hopeful look on his face is enough to shut it up, grabbing his phone with a nod. “Sure, but uhm, I can’t text often.”

His brows furrow slightly at the tone you use, watching the way you type in your number and text yourself. Something about it made it seem like you were nervous, and the only thing he can assume is that the people you were around would grow curious over who you were texting.

“Why? Scared your Snake friends would be pissed that a Six is texting you?” His tone is playful, but as you hand him his phone back, the look on your face makes his smile slowly fade away.

“My boyfriend, specifically.”

Jungkook feels his heart drop at the revelation. He knew you were most likely involved with a Cobra, having seen you the first time you met on the back of one’s bike—more specifically, Minho’s bike. He had just assumed you were Minho’s chosen girl for the day, but if you were mentioning a boyfriend now, Jungkook could easily piece together who exactly that is.

The third cardinal rule of his club replays in the back of his mind, “Never get involved with a Cobra”. It makes his head hurt, desperately trying to find a deeper excuse, a loophole to allow this to continue. It shouldn’t mean anything, you two were just friendly, barely even toeing that line as it was. But just knowing you were spoken for, by the leader of the Cobras especially, made the guilt he already felt for speaking to you get worse.

But he does his best to shake it off, drowning out his thoughts as he takes his phone back and shrugs.

“We’re just two people who share a love for sour straws, but if it makes you feel better you text me whenever you want.”

You don’t text him for a while, the fear of your tiny little secret being exposed keeps you from responding to the text you had sent yourself from his phone. There was also the small feeling of guilt festering in your stomach, feeling like you had lied to him by keeping your relationship a secret. All he had assumed from the get go was that you liked to hang around Cobras, but you noticed the way his face had changed when you mentioned a boyfriend, and you can only imagine how he’d react if you told him your boyfriend was the leader of the Cobras.

You find yourself staring at your device any chance you get, hidden in the bathroom of your place, lounging on the couch in the clubhouse, until you finally get the courage to send the first text. It makes your heart race, saving his number under your best friend's name, changing the emoji at the end so you know the difference, going as far as putting his messages on do not disturb. Clearly hiding, keeping him a secret.

Jungkook knows it's wrong, because he’s keeping it a secret too. But once that first text was sent, they never stopped. He responds when he has time in between club duties, knowing you’ll reply when you get a moment alone. Your messages are short, random conversations that never crossed any lines, but he meant what he said, taking full advantage of having your number to coordinate your play dates.

The guilt you feel slowly fades away with each passing day, becoming comfortable in your ways as you let him know what days you’ll be on that side of town, and before you know it, your hang outs become your favorite thing. You slowly start to consider Jungkook your friend, another rare slice of peace in your messy life. It makes you feel like your younger self, excited to speak to a cute boy and laugh until your cheeks hurt.

And it should make you feel icky to have these thoughts about someone who wasn’t your boyfriend, but your relationship with Minho had been romantically dead for years now, not able to remember the last time he did something for you that didn’t solely benefit him. So you choose to enjoy the small flutters in your stomach that occur around Jungkook, allowing yourself to sit closer to him each time, friendly touches beginning to get more courageous while still toeing the line.

Jungkook doesn’t mind it, he thought you were pretty and would let you trace the patches on his jacket or analyze his tattoos up close if that's what you wanted. You were the one with a boyfriend, who was he to tell you what was right or wrong for you to do, he wasn’t one to judge or pull a morality card on you considering the things he does in his club. It was all mostly innocent anyways, even now as you stand a good few feet away from each other, respective candy in each other's hands, attempting to toss them into your mouths.

It was innocent.

“God, your aim is horrible!” you laugh out, feeling the candy hit your forehead and bounce right off.

“What are you talking about? That was a clear headshot.” He has that charming smirk on his face as he says it, tongue flicking against his lip ring while he laughs too.

“You’re not trying to kill me Jungkook, we’re trying to see who wins first.” You swat the remnants of sugar off your face as you reach into your own bag for a piece of candy, motioning for him to be ready. He gets into position, slightly bending his knees and angling his head back with his mouth open, ready to catch whatever you throw. With a small snicker you grab four small pieces of candy, aiming right for his face with one eye shut and sending them flying. Jungkook is totally unsuspecting until suddenly, he’s being pelted all over his face, his eyes squeezing shut at the shock.

“Dude,” he laughs, eyes finally opening up to spot you cackling away, perfectly content at your little stunt.

“Okay, okay sorry. For real this time. I got it, I can feel it in my bones.” Jungkook should tell you no, say you wasted your turn and deliver payback, but you look too happy right now for him to do anything but smile and nod as he gets back into position once more. He sees the way you bring your hand close to your face, shutting one eye to try to aim, tongue slightly poking out in concentration before you toss the candy across a few feet of distance.

Jungkook doesn’t even register that the candy successfully landed in his mouth until you’re gasping in shock. That’s when his eyes widen, his mouth shutting as he begins to chew, standing up straight and feeling his heart start to warm at how proud you look at having beat him. He closes the distance between you, extending a hand out for a high five that you gladly give him.

Now that you’re closer, you see all the sprinkles of sugar on his face. It dusts along his cheekbones and the top of his nose, looking like small freckles on his skin. You give him an endearing smile as you cup his face and swipe it away from his skin. You do it without thinking really, tips of your fingers gently flicking away the evidence of your tiny prank.

Jungkook’s chest tightens at the soft gesture, eyes wide as he watches you, too scared to move, almost like it would startle you or make you come to your senses and remember he was a Six. He chooses to just focus on how soft your hand feels against his cheek, how sweet you sound when you say he looks like a mess, your eyes filled with what he hopes is the same adoration he has as you look up at him, a lot closer than you need to be.

Jungkook knows all the sugar is gone now but you’re still there, thumb rubbing along his cheek, tracing the scar under his eye while your gaze lands on the piercing on his lip. He holds his breath when you look up at him once more, and maybe it's his wishful thinking but he swears the way you look at him tells him to make a move, so he does. Slowly at first, wanting to give you a chance to deny his advances, but you meet his lips before he can close the distance himself.

The innocence is gone now. Jungkook had felt something brewing with each of your interactions, chalking it off to pure friendliness, but he knows a small spark had been lit the second you started speaking to each other.

The kiss burns, the guilt and betrayal to his club clawing at his mind but he doesn't care, welcoming it as he deepens it, sliding his hand into your hair and focusing on the way you let out a soft breath as he does so. It makes your mind spin, your hands gently looping around his neck to bring him closer. You don’t have time to think, too enveloped in the way his piercing feels against your lips, how his fingers softly rake through your hair, how he takes a deep breath when you kiss him back harder.

It's brief, a small moment of weakness led by temptation, but you can’t deny how you both feel exhilarated, wide eyes and smiles on your faces when you pull back. "You taste like candy," you giggle.

“Your favorite,” he mumbles, still close enough to nudge the tip of his nose along yours. His voice is low as he lets reality settle, slowly inching back, his eyes meeting yours and seeing the small clouds of panic start to form around you. Reality seems to be hitting you too, fear of what would happen to him if Minho ever found out, or what would happen to you if he even had an inkling. A small harmless crush had just passed over into dangerous territory.

“Hey,” Jungkook starts softly, hand gently coming to rest on your shoulder to bring you back to the present. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“No, but it does,” you groan. It did mean something, it didn’t matter how small it seemed, but you know the kiss meant something. Your small panic had nothing to do with being unfaithful, you knew Minho cheated on you with any girls who were willing to show their loyalty to the club, and if it kept him off of you then you didn’t mind it. You were scared to put Jungkook in danger. “It means something and my boyfriend’s crazy, he’ll kill both of us if he finds out.”

“I know he is.” He shrugs, looking directly at you, seeing the shocked look on your face at his admission.

“You know what?” you whisper.

“I know he’s a psycho. I kind of put two and two together when you mentioned a boyfriend. It is Minho right?” When you nod slowly, still unsure how to respond he just continues speaking. “But look, I know. All of it. I know I’m not supposed to be speaking to you, let alone kissing you and enjoying it, but it happened. I know it’s wrong, that I should feel bad and I don’t, but I also know where my loyalties lie within the club and what rules I’m willing to bend. If you’re saying it means something, then it does.”

You can only stare at him, feeling the clouds of panic start to fade. “But I'm telling you, I know what's at risk and I won’t be using it to harm you.”

“I mean…it is both our asses on the line,” you mumble out, still feeling his hand on your shoulder. He smiles at your words now, making you slowly smile back.

“So, we’re taking it to our graves?” His voice is light again, the playful tone you were used to back. When you nod he smiles wider. “Cool, should we kiss on it?”

Jungkook laughs when you shove his shoulder with a cackle, rolling your eyes as you step back, walking back into the bodega to get what you came for. “You’re so unserious. Get away from me.”

The issue with this imaginary line being crossed is that it leaves you thinking “what’s next”, constantly wondering just what else you could get away with. One kiss shared turns into two which turns into five, given so casually it feels like second nature. It seems like both of your guards have dropped now, more at ease with each other, touches getting as bold as they could in public.

“Are you sure my skin isn’t gonna burn off?” you joke, laughing when Jungkook gives you an eye roll. His jacket is in his hands, shaking it off before he’s swinging it around your frame, helping you slide your arms into it. He had jokingly said it would swallow you whole, and you honestly just wanted an excuse to be closer to him so when he suggested you try it on you couldn’t deny him.

“You might burst into flames, so just drop and roll baby.” He snickers when you playfully glare at him. Jungkook looks down at you with a smile, his hands smoothing the collar before he’s taking a step back to admire how the large leather jacket looked on you. The patches cover the arms and back, his first initial, last name and rank displayed over the left breast pocket, something your finger comes up to trace absentmindedly.

“I don’t know, the jacket suits you. You sure you don’t wanna become a Six?”

“Very funny Jungkook. They’ll be putting a Cobra on my tombstone when I’m dead.”

He waves you off, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Let me live in my fantasy world, yeah?”

“Your fantasy world involves me being a Six?” you giggle, looking up at him with a sly smile.

“Don’t kink shame me. Now smile for the picture,” he sings out, bending down as he extends his arm out, ready to take a selfie. You had yet to take photos of you both, too scared to be caught by Minho, but you allowed Jungkook to document your newly formed friendship as much as he wanted, knowing he had less to worry about when it came to snooping.

Your arms wrap around him, the tombstone patch on display as you both smile widely for the picture. He looks at it with a cheeky grin, mumbling out how cute he thought it was before putting his phone away.

“Do you need the usual for your run today?” he asks, knowing Minho always had you stocking up his alcohol.

“Not today. I’m technically supposed to be locked inside our place. A few Cobra’s headed out of state this morning for a meeting.”

Jungkook hums, having briefly heard of an arms deal happening out of state, he just hadn’t been aware it was the Cobra’s doing. “Why didn’t you go with?”

“Too risky.” You lean back against the textured wall of the building, still cozy in his jacket. Minho loved to have you right by his side at all times, so if he said it was safer for you to stay here then you wouldn’t question him. “He has to make sure his prized possession stays safe.”

Jungkook laughs, slinging an arm around you and bringing you to his side obnoxiously. “Well you tell him I have that covered.”

“Jungkook, he’d cut your tongue out. Stop it!” you cackle.

“I’d like to see him fucking try,” he grunts out, enjoying the way you playfully swat at him. He’d like to think he could have Minho’s head served on a silver platter if he ever got close enough to put his hands on him.

“What about you? Any fun club plans after our playdate?”

Jungkook sighs, a smile still on his face. “Nope. I’m officially clocked out.” Your laugh is felt against his side, only making his smile widen. “I just have to stop by the clubhouse to grab something before heading home.”

“How far is the clubhouse from here?” You’re looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye, your smile still as sweet as can be, but he senses some undertone that he hopes he isn’t imagining.

“Not far, about 20 minutes. Why? You want a tour?”

That was all he had to ask before you were following his bike down the busy streets on his side of town. His jacket is still on you, providing you with a small sense of security, knowing if anyone spotted you they’d assume you were with him. It leaves you at ease, entering the secure lot of his clubhouse, coming to a stop beside him and glancing around as you take off your helmet.

It’s empty, a few cars parked around that looked like they were in need of repair, but no other bikes or lingering people. Jungkook steps off his bike, motioning for you to follow him, excited at showing you his favorite place.

As you follow his lead you instantly see how different Deep Six’s clubhouse is compared to the Cobras. The space is taken care of, decorated thoughtfully, a space made for business as well as hanging out with their friends and families. Touches of the club are nestled around, a large Harley on display on a far wall, a frame showing the timeline and evolution of their patch tucked between other photos, and the most obvious and slightly obnoxious ode to the club comes in the gallery wall displaying all of their mugshots. Cute.

“It’s nothing fancy,” he mumbles, spreading his arms out as he stands in the middle of the main room. A brown tufted leather couch is right behind him, a giant pool table behind it and a fully loaded bar to the right.

“Compared to ours it sure is.” The Cobra’s clubhouse was made for business only, the meeting room was kept in pristine condition while the rest of it was only made to be nice enough to house drunken members and whatever hangouts were in the process of joining.

“Really?” When you nod he just frowns, approaching you to grab your hand and pull you along, trying to show you more. “I’ll show you my space.”

“Your space?” you wonder, smiling when he squeezes your palm lightly, leading you down a hall to the right. A few doors line both walls, different ranks tacked on the middle of them, coming to a stop in front of one that says Road Captain. You had never really paid attention to his rank on his jacket, never really caring to read anyone’s rank in general, but seeing it displayed on this door let you know just how deep his involvement in his club was.

“Only ranked members get private rooms.” He sounds almost bashful as he says this, grinning before opening up the door and switching on the light. A desk is on the right, paperwork neatly stacked in piles, a dresser is along the other wall with pictures tacked onto a cork board right above it. His bed is in the middle, sheets a dark gray and neatly made. It’s nestled between two windows on either side, letting in the slowly setting sunlight.

You step into the room, walking to the dresser to look at the photos he has tacked up. He looks younger in some of these, hair messier and longer, no piercing or tattoos yet as he leans on his bike, another member attempting to put him in a headlock. They’re all club photos for the most part, the only one standing out is a photo of a teenage looking Jungkook holding up a diploma with what you can only assume is his parents beside him.

“Cute,” you mumble out, smiling as you turn back to face him. It was odd to feel this calm around him, so used to the faint ticking heard in your head, reminding you that you were running on borrowed time, forced to interact in small bursts. With Minho completely occupied, the ticking disappears, allowing you to fully enjoy the moment for what it was.

“I didn’t expect you to be sentimental like this,” you tease, smiling at the way his eyes narrow at you as he approaches, his tongue poking at his cheek as he fights a smile.

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmurs, standing a foot away from you now, peering down at you with an aura of playfulness surrounding him. Your hands reach out to gently play with the material of his shirt, tugging him even closer. Jungkook could feel the tension, the same slowly growing tension that had been brewing with each day spent together. He can only watch as your hands slowly trail up his stomach, gliding up to gingerly rest against his chest.

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to feel you gasp against his lips, but the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel like he had suggested showing you his clubhouse to be a total sleaze. Jungkook knew the line had grown blurry, kisses and touches shared with ease, but he wasn’t bold enough to assume you’d be okay with taking anything further. So when you decide to make the first move, leaning up to ghost your lips over his own, he can only hold his breath, eyes fluttering shut when you softly press them together.

Your hands rest on his shoulders now, holding yourself steady as you kiss him, feeling the way his body melts into it. You pull away with a soft smack of your lips, inching back slightly. “What other surprises do you have?”

Jungkook holds in a groan when you start to pepper kisses on the corner of his mouth, trailing them down his jaw, gently nipping the skin of his throat right below his ear. You giggle when he shudders, his hands gripping your waist, fingers tightening around you.

“If you let me, I can show you.” His voice holds a tinge of unsureness, wanting for you to be okay with this without sounding pushy. But Jungkook had been thinking of this since your first kiss so he couldn’t help the desperate tone laced between each syllable.

“Show me. Show me whatever you want,” you whisper, hand coming up to cup his cheek, looking up at him through your lashes. When his eyes meet yours he finally lets his resolve crack, attaching your lips once more in a heated kiss, finally feeling you gasp against him.

Jungkook is a little ashamed to admit how easily this was affecting him, his heart already racing in his chest, stomach fluttering with each shared moan, bulge growing in his jeans when your hand slips into his hair and pulls. His hands slide down the material of his jacket you have on, pulling it off your body and tossing it aside without a care. He feels you smile against his lips at the action, clearly enjoying the way his hands roam along your body, desperate to touch you in ways he wasn’t able to before.

It’s an eager dance to his bed, blindly stepping back as he guides you to it until your knees buckle against the mattress, giggling as you flop onto it. Your arm rests back to hold you steady, other hand gripping onto his shirt to yank him back over you, reattaching your lips in a heated kiss.

Jungkook laughs into the kiss, his arm wrapping around you to haul you further up the bed properly, slowly pushing you back until you’re flat against the bed. His body settles over you, the cute visual of his hair framing his face is the first thing you see when your eyes flutter open as he pulls back. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, his hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip as he smirks before dipping back down.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, following the same trail you had left on him earlier, smiling against your skin when you shudder as he nips your neck. Slowly, his hands slide down your body, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt and tugging it up to reveal your stomach.

“Can I take this off?” he mumbles, eyes peering up at you for confirmation. When you breathe out a yes, he slides it further up, helping you slip out of your shirt fully before you’re settling on your back again. A thin bralette covers your boobs, lacey cups revealing a glimmer on your nipples that has him tilting his head in curiosity.

You catch what he’s looking at, smile spreading on your lips as you reach up to touch his jaw, finger gently tapping along the small mole he has below his lips. “I’m full of surprises too,” you mumble, smiling wider when he boldly cups your chest, thumb swiping at your pierced nipple through the lace.

“I can see that,” he mumurs, voice low and raspy, making your stomach flip. He looks at you once more, brow cocking up in question as his fingers toy with the fabric. You nod your head, knowing what he wanted, allowing him to slip the straps off your shoulders before he’s sliding a palm under your back to properly unclasp your bra, giving himself the perfect view.

Its hard to ignore the small burst of confidence that surges through you when he groans, eyes hooded while he leans down to pepper kisses down your chest. It had been such a long time since you’ve felt truly desired, since you’ve been kissed delicately, had hands touch your skin so gently it tickles and leaves you breathing out a laugh. So you relish in it. You shut your eyes and enjoy the way Jungkook presses wet kisses to your skin, you let yourself gasp in pleasure when he wraps his lips around your pierced nipple and sucks.

Your hands instinctively slip through his hair, fingers yanking his thick strands as he hums against your skin, tongue flicking along the piercing. Jungkook feels the way you jut your chest further out, back arching at the sensation. A deep groan escapes you as his palm comes up to cup your other breast, the cool feeling of his rings sending a shiver down your spine.

He smiles as he pulls back, cocky with eyes twinkling with mischief as his fingers playfully dance down your body.

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers reach the waistband of your jeans, teasingly dipping past it as he lifts a brow in question. He needed clear boundaries, not wanting to cross any lines. You find it cute, how despite the fact that you’re laying here, chest heaving with anticipation, eyes surely wild with desire, he’s still wanting to make sure.

“Can I?” He repeats his earlier question, features soft as he waits for your answer.

“We need to even out the playing field first Six,” you tease, smiling when he chuckles and points to his shirt. You nod, staring up at him from the bed as he kneels up, staring right at you as he reaches behind his neck and yanks the shirt off of his body.

Your blood warms up further at the sight of him, seeing his muscles flex under his tattoos as he straightens back up. Jungkook tilts his head slightly, biting on his lip ring as he fights back the smile at your clear admiration. The black marks his skin, some tattoos looking darker than others, showing you just which ones were recent additions.

The owl on his chest looks the brightest, edges still crisp, shading looking rich in the skulls beneath each wing. They seem to move as Jungkook takes a breath, snapping you out of it as you look back into his eyes.

“Is this even enough for you?” he jokes, smiling wide when you nod in confirmation, your eyes following his movements as his hand returns to your jeans. You watch with bated breath as he unbuttons the top, slowly pulling down the zipper before his hands hook into the waistband and starts to tug. Your hips lift from the bed to help, allowing him to pull them off, tossing them to the side along with your shoes and socks.

You can feel your stomach flipping with nerves, the worry of doing something new with someone new, the small clouds of insecurity rolling in, wondering if you looked good in this angle, if maybe Jungkook preferred you to look a certain way or wear cute underwear with bows on the front instead of the black regular cotton ones you currently have on.

It all settles down as he drops lowers, eyes looking up at you as he presses kisses onto your hips and slowly tugs your underwear down, clearly not paying any mind to them. A trail of goosebumps blossom down your thighs, following your underwear as he pulls them off too. He stands up once more, eyes swimming with want as he sees you.

“Let me get a good look at you,” he murmurs when he notices the way your arms begin to want to cover yourself up at being fully exposed. He thinks it's cute how shy you seem now, eyes bouncing away from his as he takes his time drinking you in. With your eyes diverted, he thinks it's a great time to dive in, his hands coming down to grip your palms while his face nudges its way into the crook of your neck to kiss your skin, smiling at the way you gasp and laugh at the ticklish feeling

“Jungkook!” you giggle, feeling his hands pin your own down on the bed, his mouth traveling down your body as he guides your hands into his hair, letting you know he wants you to keep playing with the strands. Your finger twirls his hair around, feeling him smile against your skin as he descends once more.

“Everything about you is so pretty,” he mumbles into your stomach, eyes peering up at you while his hands return to your hips, slowly sliding down to your thighs to grip the flesh. Wet kisses smack into your skin, leaving a trail on each hip and down your thigh until he’s suddenly biting. He laughs when you gasp, your fingers tugging his hair on instinct when you look down with a shocked expression.

“Looked so good you had to take a bite?” you joke, smiling down at him, feeling the fluttering in your stomach when he winks.

“Oh I need more than just a bite,” he groans, fingers tightening their hold on your thighs before he presses a kiss directly onto your mound, slowly sticking his tongue out to gently flick along your slit.

Jungkook loves the way your breath gets shaky as you exhale, a soft moan of his name reaching his ears when he gently parts your folds and teasingly flicks against your clit. A part of him knows this might be the one and only time he’ll ever get to experience you like this, the only time he’ll see you flush on his bed, gasping for more as your hips roll into him. So he wants to store every moment in his brain, keep it locked away until the next time he misses you.

“Fuck Jungkook, that feels good,” you moan, fingers locked in his hair, keeping him close as he ravishes you. The praise makes his ego grow, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. It makes your stomach tense, short little zaps of electricity flowing through your body with each flick of his tongue.

“Good, I just wanna make you feel good.” He leans back a bit, admiring the look of your sodden folds for a moment before he's letting a glob of spit drip from his mouth directly onto your clit. He bites his lip as his fingers spread it around, coating his digits as he circles your entrance. His eyes meet yours again, brow raised in question, smiling when you nod in response. Slowly, he pushes forward, eyes focused on your reaction, seeing the way you bite down on your lip as his finger sinks in.

Jungkook tries not to let his mind get carried away when he feels your walls fluttering around his digit, already imagining how you would feel around him, feeling his cock aching in his jeans as he sinks a second finger in to properly stretch you out. With each thrust of his fingers his mind wanders further, the need to see you falling apart leading his mouth back onto you, the combining sensation making you moan louder.

The stretch of his fingers has your head spinning, eyes falling shut as you mewl on his sheets, fingers raking through his hair. “More Jungkook, please,” you whimper, not able to get enough of him.

The desperation lacing your voice makes Jungkook’s heart flutter, ready to comply with anything you want. He moans against your folds, a third finger adding to the delicious stretch. The wet clicks of his fingers thrusting into your drenched pussy fill the room, and it's the greed living inside of Jungkook that makes him want to thrust into you faster, make it so that all you can hear is the sound of your pleasure.

Your breath hitches in your throat when he curves his fingers upwards, tickling the sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. That’s when you feel the familiar cool sensation of his rings once more. You were used to feeling them on your arms when he playfully pulled you around, used to the feeling of them on your cheeks when he gripped your face before kissing you, but feeling them against your cunt each time he thrust his fingers forward, it made your body burn up with lust. There was something about having the name of a club you were told to stay far away from pressed against you salaciously that only made the waves of pleasure you feel crash over you even harder.

“Mm, close Jungkook,” you whine, your free hand sliding up your body to tug and pinch at your nipples. Jungkook peers up at you from between his thighs and the visual of you playing with yourself while he ate you out has him making a mess in his underwear. He doesn’t even care how easy it is for you to make him this needy, knowing you were enjoying yourself because of him was all that mattered.

“Wanna feel you baby,” he mutters out, lips shiny with your arousal, fingers scissoring inside of you, feeling the way your walls tighten around him. Your hands grip his hair tighter, making him hiss, a breathy laugh hitting your messy folds when you guide his mouth back onto you.

Jungkook knows you’re right on the edge, the craving for your release making you arch your back, moans of his name slurring together with pleas for more more. All it takes is a few more flicks of his tongue for your climax to crest, the prettiest moan he’s ever heard reaching his ears as you gush around his fingers.

“There you go, good girl,” he groans, pulling back as he licks his lips, staring at your trembling body with eyes swimming with lust. His thumb replaces his mouth, rubbing your swollen clit, enjoying the way you writhe at the slight overstimulation.

“Ah, ‘Guk,” you whimper. And the new nickname has him smiling, loving the way it sounds coming from you so much he almost doesn’t want to stop. It takes your small hands coming down to grip his wrist for him to finally pull away, your soft giggles of enjoyment coming to a halt when he slips his fingers into his mouth.

“Told you I needed more than just a bite,” he teases, making an absolute show of licking his fingers. “What about you, are you satisfied?”

You lift yourself up with one arm, the other reaching forward to grip his belt loop, tugging him closer as you look up at him through your lashes. “Mm, no I don’t think I am.” His abs tense when your finger trails along his skin, toying with the button on his jeans, slowly popping them open and pulling down the zipper.

“Then I need to fix that,” he mumbles, tongue flicking his lip ring as he stares down at you, watching the way you reach down to palm at his bulge. Your face lights up at his words, a smile spreading on your face as he helps you tug down his jeans, obviously eager. Jungkook’s smirk only deepens when your eyes widen once you finally release his cock, a small gasp escaping you at the size of him.

Pearly beads of precum collect at his tip, swollen and aching for your touch, so when you finally grasp his length and swipe your thumb along the bulbous tip he lets out a deep groan that has your core clenching.

“Fuck, babe.” He grunts when your palm starts to slide up and down, his eyes focused on the way you slowly inch forward, your tongue peeking out to gently lick his tip. Jungkook knows he’s in trouble, already feeling his body react to your touch. All you had done was give him a few teasing touches and his mind was already spinning. Its an inner battle as he watches you take more of him into your mouth, his jaw dropping at the warm feeling, hands clenching by his side when you moan at the taste of him.

“Y/N,” he groans, “you’re gonna make me cum too fast.” You pop off of him with a wet smack, a saccharine smile on your lips as you giggle.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Your head tilts as you question him, hand still lazily pumping his length.

“It is when I want to fuck you first.” That makes your hand finally stop, brows raising in interest. Your free hand slides up his body, carefully cupping his face, guiding him down to kiss you.

“Then fuck me, Jungkook. I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips, feeling him groan against you as he kisses you harder. You know what you mean. You’re his for the night, despite how strong your connection with him is, the reality was that as long as Minho had his claws sunk into you, there would never be a chance for you and Jungkook to delve deeper into this relationship. But this tiny bubble you were both in was enough for you.

The energy is different than what you’re used to, the both of you smiling through the kisses, soft words whispered against skin as you help him take off his jeans. Jungkook’s laugh is infectious when you gasp at the sight of his thighs, the double headed wolf tattoo catching your attention immediately, praising it under your breath before he’s kissing you once more, telling you he’ll let you properly see it later as his hands grope your sides.

“How do you want me?” you mumble, gently nipping his lip.

“If it was my way I’d have you in every position I could think of. You tell me, baby.” If Jungkook let his selfish desires take over, he’d tell you he wanted you to ride him, let you bounce on top of him and use him while he got to watch your pretty face. But he can’t be that selfish, even if the small pestering voice in his head tells him that this might be his only chance to. Still, his eyes are soft as he pulls back, ringed hand caressing your face with a tenderness that makes your heart clench

“Can I ride you?” Your voice is timid, just above a whisper, but it makes Jungkook shut his eyes and groan. You see, he wasn’t corny, didn’t believe in fate or anything like that, but for a brief moment Jungkook's convinced this was meant to be.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning forward to rest his forhead against yours. “Yes, please.”

The way he begs makes your pussy ache, hips instinctively rolling up into his, enjoying the way he hisses, rutting his cock against your inner thigh. The beads of precum leak off his tip, leaving a small puddle by your hip, smeared around as he repeats the action.

“O-okay,” you gasp, biting down on your lip as you peek at the visual, trying not to get lost in the way he teases himself. “Let me ‘Guk, wanna feel you.”

He nods, tendrils of hair tickling your face as he kisses you again before leaning back. You try not to stare but it's so hard when he looks like that, length hard and bobbing as he rummages through the drawer by his bed, a sheepish smile on his lips when he plucks out a shiny square packet.

Your heart races in your chest as you sit up, coming onto your knees and crawling to the head of the bed, gently patting the space next to you. Jungkook’s quick to settle beside you, back leaning against the small headboard, large hands reaching to grab your hips and hoist you over his thighs. A small laugh escapes you at being manhandled, the toned muscles of his thighs felt underneath you, his cock poking at your belly from your proximity.

Your eyes are glued to it, watching in awe as he pulls out the condom and carefully rolls it on, a small sigh meeting your ears.

“Can’t wait to feel you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw, your hand meeting his around his cock as you lift your hips just enough. His free hand finds your hip again as you guide his tip to your entrance, teasingly circling it, slipping the tip inside for a second before popping it back out, the two of you gasping at the feeling.

“Mm, sit on it,” he groans, brows pinched together as he nudges his nose into your neck. Wet kisses mark your skin, his hand getting tighter on your hip when you repeat the action again before finally sinking further down. Your walls clench around him, the stretch making you whine. You had seen his size, knowing just how big he was, but now that he’s inside of you and you feel it, you pace yourself.

It's unintentionally torturous, the warm tightness slowly enveloping more of him and all he could do was clench his jaw and grip you harder. Jungkook is patient, fighting every urge he has to thrust up or sit you down fully. Instead he murmurs praises into your skin, tells you how good you feel, how good you’re doing, that you’re almost there until you’re butt rests flush against his thighs.

A shuddering breath hits his shoulder, your face coming up to stare at him properly now. He’s staring at you with hooded eyes, mouth slightly opened as he gasps when your walls flutter.

“So big,” you mumble, kissing him gently, lips ghosting over his, hips slowly lifting an inch before coming back down.

“I know, baby. Take your time.” He groans, kissing you harder, teeth clicking together in his haste, breathing into each other. Jungkook felt like he was dreaming, some sick fantasy teasing him while he slept, giving him a taste of you before reality would settle in and snatch it all away. But you don’t usually feel this way in his dreams, don’t dig your nails into his shoulder as you quicken your pace, your wetness dripping down his cock and pooling at the base. And Jungkook is glad that he prefers reality over his dreams for once.

“Oh god ‘Guk,” you moan, skin slapping together with each rise and fall of your hips. His lips are coated in a sheen of spit, swollen from your kisses and gentle bites, but he gives you a smile, clearly enjoying your reaction to him.

“Does it feel good baby?” he murmurs, voice deep and raspy at the edges, his hand sliding up your thighs, pressing into your tummy with a tilt to his head. “Feel nice and full?”

You shudder at his question, feeling the pressure of his palm, and you swear you can feel the tip of his cock nudging into it. “Y-yes, so good, so full. Just wanna fuck you forever.”

He hums, feeling your words deep inside of him. It makes him melt into the headboard, hand traveling further up until he has a handful of your tits in them. Jungkook plays with them a bit, finger pinching and twisting the hard buds, tugging gently at the silver bar, hearing you moan at the sensation.

“You can fuck me whenever you want,” he grunts at a particular drop of your hips, the wetness aiding in your pace.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he groans, thumb rolling along your nipple, softly rutting up into you. “Just text me whenever you want it. Pretty face, delicious pussy, I’ll always be here for you.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you giggle, throwing your head back as you get lost in the motion. Jungkook laughs with you, arm scooping around your back to pull you closer, his mouth kissing up and down your neck, teeth grazing the surface with the urge to suck but he knows better.

“Just for you,” he breathes into your skin, feeling you laugh again.

It feels like nothing else matters, not the potential consequences to this, no worry about what this meant for your special friendship. All that matters is that Jungkook is grabbing you like he can’t get enough of you, kissing you like his life depends on it, not shy at all at vocalizing how good it all feels.

“Wanna cum,” you gasp, cupping his face, seeing the way he focuses on your lips as you speak.

“Yeah? Tell me what you need.” He bends his knees slightly, pressure on his heels as he fucks up into you. The jiggle of your tits makes his mouth water, caught in a daze.

“Need you to touch me.” It's the softest plea, tone dripping and needy, making Jungkook nod immediately. He bites his lip as he trails a hand up your chest, over your neck until he’s cupping your jaw, his thumb rubbing along your lower lip. With a gentle tap, you’re opening up, eyes locked together as you wrap your lips around the digit and suck, giving him a teasing bite as he tries to pull it out.

He smiles at you, bringing down his soaked thumb in between your bodies until it reaches home directly onto your clit. The sudden touch makes you gasp, bundle of nerves swollen and sensitive, and its almost too much. But he’s gentle, easing you into the feeling, only applying more pressure when you finally relax, falling back into the delicious rhythm you have going.

Jungkook can feel the coil tightening inside of him with each pulse of your pussy, walls clamping around him on each lift, making an absolute mess as the arousal drips onto his balls.

“More?” He quickens his finger, circling your clit faster, paying close attention to your reaction.

“Oh, fuck. No, like that. Just like that.” So he does, jaw dropped open as he watches you get lost in it all, bouncing on top of him as fast as you wanted, using him just like he wanted. Your thighs burn but it feels too good to think about stopping, the beginning signs of your orgasm licking at your skin, encouraging you to fuck him faster. You can hear how messy you’re leaving him, the squelch of your pussy blending in with the moans and thumping of the headboard.

“Close, fuck—ah,” you stutter and gasp, brows pinched together tightly, only able to stare at him as you start to fall apart. He looks at you in awe, breathing in time with you, matching each gasp and moan, thumb slipping around in your slick. It's the accidental flick of his that has you tumbling over the edge, nearly shrieking out his name as your high comes barreling at you.

Jungkook curses under his breath as you tremble above him. Your hand curls into his hair, yanking him forward into a messy kiss as you moan unabashedly, his thumb continuing to flick along your puffy clit for another minute to work you through it before he’s clutching onto your hips and controlling your speed. You’re still twitching at the aftershocks, small sparks kissing your skin and leaving you in a comfortable haze as you tangle your tongue with his, pulling back with a smile so sweet.

“I wanna see you cum Jungkook,” you kiss him again, teasing him as you pull away and watch him chase you for more. “Made me feel so good, want you to cum for me.”

Jungkook groans, nodding as he wraps his arm around you, pushing off the headboard until the air is whooshing around you and your back is meeting the sheets once more. He cages you in easily, arms under your back, cradling your head as he buries his face into your neck and surges his hips into you.

Your breath leaves you at the change in position, legs wrapping around his hips, shuddering as his pelvis nudges your sensitive clit. He doesn’t care how desperate he looks, fucking you like he was starved of affection, the need to cum taking over all of his senses.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Your nails dig into his back, scratching along his skin, making him groan into your ear. His thrusts grow more sporadic, shallow, losing their grace as your purposefully clench around him.

“Oh shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” He whines, voice breathy against your neck, and you swear you’ll cum again.

“Yeah? Cum for me, c’mon,” you whisper, grazing his back and tightening your walls again. He nods against you before he’s leaning back, giving you the view you so sweetly asked for. His thick brows are furrowed on his forehead, eyes heady with lust, and a deep groan of your name spilling past his lips as he cums. Your feet urge him closer as his hips stutter, rutting into you to milk his orgasm as he fills up the condom.

The room falls quiet for a moment, the both of you catching your breath, hearts slowing down as the high settles over your bones. And then he’s laughing, flopping back over you and tightening his hold on your body.

“Why are you laughing?” You giggle too, hands running through his hair as you smile in a love sick daze.

“I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard,” he admits sheepishly, kissing your warm skin, leaning back with a childish smile as he kisses your nose and ever so slowly starts to pull out of you. The sound is filthy, core sensitive and messy, and when he fully pulls out you can’t help but close your legs.

He simply laughs, hand softly rubbing at your calves before he’s getting up and disposing of the condom.

You’re still in that same foggy haze from earlier, even as Jungkook returns with a damp cloth to clean you up, all you can do is hum in thanks as you melt into his sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to settle in beside you again, holding you close, hand tickling the skin of the thigh you have hooked over his hip.

“You have such pretty legs.” It’s a soft compliment, almost like it wasn’t meant to escape him. But when you look at him with a sincere smile he continues. “If you were mine I’d beg you to wear skirts all the time just so I could stare at them, touch them—“ he grips your thighs playfully, smiling at your laugh, “I’d be able to flick it up so easily and fuck you in it.”

Your laugh is louder now, your hand playfully swatting at his chest at how quick he was to get raunchy.

If you were mine.

That phrase repeats in your mind, sounding like a sweet song that you’d never get tired of hearing.

“I’ll wear one at the meet next week,” you promise, running your hand over his chest. You knew you’d be seeing him there, able to freely ogle at him with all the neighboring clubs gathered together in an attempt to keep the peace. You might not be able to interact like you usually do, but just seeing him was enough.

Just as he’s about to reply, the sound of a familiar engine cuts the air. You freeze instantly, wide eyes staring at Jungkook, seeing the confused look on his face. He lifts a hand up, motioning for you to stay as he sits up straighter, ears perking up when he hears the front door of the clubhouse open up.

“Stay here. They won’t come in here but I know they saw my bike so I’ll get rid of them.” You can only nod as he hurries into his clothes, buttoning his jeans in a haste and deciding to forgo his shirt and shoes as he all but runs out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

The haze you felt earlier is long gone, anxiety settling into your bones once more, realizing just what sort of situation you were in. Jungkook seemed to think the golden rule of staying away from Cobras was fine with you, but who knows just what kind of loyalty the Six member in the other room holds.

All you needed was one man hell bent on loyalty to come barging in, and you don’t even want to think of what would become of you. Your heart rattles in your chest as you sit up too, eyes glancing around the room to find your pile of clothes.

You can hear them mumbling in the main room, Jungkook’s laughter sounding out as he jokes around with his fellow brother. You can only imagine what he’s telling him, maybe explaining why theres a second bike parked next to his, or giving his reason for being shirtless and disheveled at the clubhouse this late in the day. Whatever is going on, you know you shouldn’t wait around to see how it plays out. Being with Jungkook makes reality pause, fade away and leave you to believe that things were meant to be this easy.

But that's not your reality.

You knew you wanted this to happen, could still feel the butterflies in your stomach as you remember the way he kissed your skin. But you couldn’t let the line be crossed this far again. You’re not sure karma would be too kind to you the next time.

As quiet as you can, you slip out of bed, carefully putting your clothes back on and looking at the desk in the corner. Before you overthink it, you grab the pen and notepad he has resting on top of paperwork, scribbling out a quick note before you’re returning to his bedside, yanking up the curtains and wiggling the window open to slip out.

Back in the main room, Jungkook is sitting on the bar stool, Hoseok resting against the counter as they both joke around. Jungkook is thankful that Hoseok doesn’t seem to ask too many questions, knowing very well that he must have some girl in the room, but he wasn’t nosey enough to want to know who.

“So you’re not gonna introduce your friend?” he jokes, giving Jungkook a coy smile, enjoying the way his younger friend blushes and shoves his shoulder.

“No you weirdo, you fucking scared her by showing up like this. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

Hoseok cackles, pushing away from the counter and walking towards the meeting room. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be a cockblock. I forgot to grab some paperwork.” The way he says it makes it seem like it was work documents, contracts that needed to be signed instead of files detailing the amount of guns they’d be receiving in the next drop. He disappears into the room, returning a few moments later with the folder in his hand. “I’ll be out of your hair now.”

And he does just that, waving goodbye and stepping back outside. But as he approaches his bike he realizes the bike he had seen next to Jungkook’s was missing now.

Jungkook is none the wiser as he walks back to his room, a smile on his face that falls when he doesn’t see you on the bed. The sheets are a mess, your clothes are missing, his curtains are drawn up and his window remains cracked open. He steps closer now, a white sheet of paper catching his attention on his desk.

Thanks for the tour, I think your room might be my favorite<3 Remember, we take this to our graves. We’ll kiss on it over sour straws soon x

Ps. I’ll see you at the meet, I’ll be the one in the short skirt.

Maybe it's the sick hopefulness he feels in his chest, but Jungkook can’t help but smile as he thinks this won’t be the last time afterall.

#jungkook smut #new

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saturnville · 4 days ago

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ember & hush | kelvin harrison, jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc (nia) summary: when Nia experiences an inconvenience at her apartment, Kelvin offers to let her stay with him for the night, which leads to tension and lines being crossed. warnings: none wc: 4823 an: the girlies are giving khjr love, and I am all the way here for it. I am tagging folks from my terry richmond taglist, so message me if you want to be removed. remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged! tags: @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @turn-thy-paige @theglamclosetsl @mymindisneverhere

Most people hated old apartments. The beauty of aches, creaks, and groans of old floorboards and rusted windows was foregone when gray laminate floors, white cabinets, and stainless steel appliances took over Architecture Digest.

But she loved her apartment. Nestled in the rear of a Victorian-style building turned small investment property. It wasn’t much, but its beauty was indescribable. From the stained windows with stories of Mary and Jesus to Romeo and Julie and even Mona Lisa were her greeters each time she crossed the threshold.

Her heels were pitter-pattered against the cracked tile floor as she trekked toward the elevator. Her forearms grew weary from the lines of bags on her arms. It was her monthly restock day, and as usual, she went a bit overboard and was paying the consequences by nearly colliding with the wall beside her.

“Oof,” she grunted, wobbling a bit. She stuck her hand out to press the elevator button. She whistled a soft tune as she waited for the doors to open. A soft ding indicated she was next up for a luxurious ride. The first layer of doors peeled open, revealing her neighbor, Kelvin, on the other side.

Her eyes dropped to the bag in his hand, which was labeled with the logo of the local Chinese restaurant on the corner. She chuckled and stepped into the elevator. “Chinese for the third time this week? It’s only Thursday.”

Kelvin laughed mockingly. “Cooking isn’t in the cards this week.” He tilted the bag as if offering a confession. “I’m in survival mode.” She nodded in understanding. Seeing him rush out the door from her peephole early in the morning with a backpack slung over his shoulder to see him trudge indoors later in the evening proved his words correct. His job wasn’t the most graceful, but he adored it. She could tell from how his eyes lit up when she asked about his day while they passed each other in the apartment foyer.

“I see,” she concurred.

A moment of silence settled before Kelvin spoke up. He nodded toward her bags. “You sure you didn’t make a Chinese restaurant run?”

Nia’s eyes dropped toward her bags as if unaware of what she had swiped her debit card on. She smiled softly as she thought of all she had gotten. Investing in herself and her relaxation was non-negotiable; monthly restocks were planned and budgeted monthly. She deserved to treat herself with care.

“All the self-care goodies. Lotions, body washes, snacks. Everything to keep me happy this weekend.” The smile on her face didn’t fade, and it was contagious. It was so infectious that Kelvin didn’t realize a small smile bore on his lips. However, he saw how the bags slowly weighed her down.

The elevator dinged again.

“Here.” Kelvin held his hands out. Nia sighed thankfully and slid some of her bags into his awaiting hands, choosing to ignore the jolt that shot down her spine when their fingertips touched. Ever the gentleman. She didn’t surround herself with men often, but Kelvin was the one man who made her feel comfortable and cared for. From when he opened the door for her, helped carry her groceries, and let her borrow his utensils when she realized she was lacking. He stood outside and jumped her car for 30 minutes at 12 degrees last winter. He always had her back.

Her hand touched his bicep, which she tried not to squeeze, and said, “Thank you.”

The walk to her apartment was short. Nia continued to engage with his new questions about her day as she dug in her messy tote for her keys. “Uh, I had a client I tried not to cuss out, but what’s new.” She went to put the key in the door, but much to her surprise, it opened on its own. Her eyebrow raised, and her heart pounded. She locked her door this morning. What happened?

“But I…” She was in a rush this morning; maybe she forgot to lock it. But even if she didn’t, why did her door open? A busted lock didn’t mean her door shouldn’t shut. The hinges were loose.

Kelvin sensed her discomfort and growing panic. His eyes cut toward her apartment, whose vanilla and cedarwood scent wafted beneath his nose. He returned his gaze to her.“You sure you closed the door all the way?”

“Positive.” She nodded. She gnawed on her bottom lip like candy as her brain rattled off a million possibilities that had to make a fraction of sense. “I don’t…maybe the hinges are loose? I don’t want to go in…will you…can you?”

Kelvin pushed the door open slightly, peeking his head around without further question. “Yeah, stay here.” With the door wide open, she watched his movements intently. Her bags left his strong hands, and she was given a home on the couch. He maneuvered around the living, dining, and kitchen before disappearing down the hallway. She heard light switches flicker and doors open.

“I think you’re good. We’ll call maintenance first thing in the morning,” he said as he returned down the hallway, suave and confident like he’d been there before. “What do you want to do?”

Nia’s face twisted. What else was she going to do? There was no other home for her to go to. “What do you mean? There’s nothing else to do but suck it up; I don’t know…I rather not, but…”

Kelvin’s eyes followed hers as they bounced around her home. Her arms were crossed over her chest, a clear sign of fear. Watching her shrink away from her own home felt wrong. He spoke before he thought: “You can stay at my place until they fix the lock if you’d like. I still got the food and a dope DVD collection,” he suggested.

Nia’s eyebrows raised. She and Kelvin had been neighbors for years, but she had never been in his home, and up until today, he hadn't been in hers either. Her delayed answer caused him to retreat visibly, growing bashful.“I’m sorry…”

Nia smiled shyly. He was so kind. “I don’t want to invade your space, Kel.” He quickly shut down that thought, insisting it was a genuine offer made by his desire for her to feel safe. He insisted that he didn’t mean to overstep, which she shut down by saying, “I don’t think you were overstepping…I wasn’t expecting it, is all, but I do appreciate your offer. Would you mind sticking around while I shower?”

Kelvin huffed a breath of relief and nodded immediately, “Absolutely.”

Nia shut the front door as far as possible, pushed a half-full case of water by her door that had been there for days in front of it with her foot, and instructed him to make himself comfortable while she took a quick shower. He then took the time to digest the place she called home. Everything about it screamed her, from the fine-line paintings to the green accent wall with a gold coffee cart pressed against it. Her apartment exuded warmth, which lulled him to sleep against the fuzzy throw blanket on the back of her couch.

Twenty minutes later, her unforgettable scent pulled him from his light slumber. When he peeled his eyelids open, she stood before him dressed in a satin long-sleeve pajama set with fuzzy slippers, her hair wrapped in a scarf, and her face free of makeup. She looked like a teenager going to her best friend’s house for a sleepover. It was good enough for him if she felt comfortable enough to present herself to him in the way she might do alone. It meant, to some extent, she trusted him. He had never given her a reason not to. He was a gentleman, she insisted. He wouldn’t try anything. Right?

Seeing him asleep on her couch pulled her out of her thoughts.“Sorry, sleeping beauty,” she said. Kelvin gave a lopsided grin. Her laughter softened the tension in the air, and Kelvin couldn’t help but notice how his chest tightened at her relaxed smile. God, she made comfort look effortless and asked if she had all she needed for the night. She nodded, pointing toward the tote on her shoulder.

The walk to his apartment was short as he only lived two doors down. As they inched closer to his apartment, Nia found herself growing nervous. Was she a fool for going into this man’s home? She had known him for some years, so she did trust him. Maybe she was overthinking.

Kelvin stuck his key into the door and pushed it open. “Welcome. What’s mine is yours, so make yourself comfortable.” Nia was in awe. Her inner artist wanted to jump up and down. His apartment was every artist’s dream. It was covered in black-and-white prints, abstracts, line art, and much more. It was clean and smelled amazing, and the couch in the middle of the living room looked like a cloud.

“Your place is beautiful, Kelvin,” Nia complimented genuinely. Kelvin’s eyes dropped just slightly as he thanked her bashfully.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Feel free to eat,” he raised the bag of almost-forgotten Chinese food. “The DVDs are in the television stand…or streaming services; pick your poison. Kitchen is to your left, bathroom is down the hall and the first door on your right.” Kelvin locked the front door and jogged toward his bedroom, leaving Nia to make herself comfortable on the kitchen island as she helped herself to some of his food.

Nia paused for a few moments, realizing she had no fork. She pondered. Would it be rude to go through his drawers? Yes. He did say what was his was hers. But people always say that; did he mean it? Well, he had to if he opened his home to her. “Girl, get it together,” she mumbled. Hunger won the battle over politeness, and she hopped off the bar stool. Her slippers scraped against the floor as she tiptoed around the kitchen like a bandit.

The first drawer revealed four piles of neatly folded towels, all organized by color. She nodded in approval. “Not bad, Kel.” The second held measuring cups and spatulas. “Okay, chef.” However, the Chinese bag on the island and two additional ones in the trash said otherwise. The third revealed a beautiful set of black silverware. “Victory!”

Sliding back onto the bar stool, she savored the flavor of the chicken and noodle dish. She glanced around his apartment between bites, taking extra time to examine the art and the stack of records in the corner of the room. His apartment—his home—felt inviting. Like him.

Sometime later, Kelvin came around the corner, seemingly more relaxed. Sweatpants and a T-shirt had replaced his dress pants and sweater. Nia had seen him in a durag before, but something about it was different this time. His deep stretch exposed the slight curve of his waist beneath his sweatpants, and she found her gaze lingering longer than usual—an amplifier of a pulsing feeling between her thighs. She snapped her eyes away quickly.

“How you feelin’?” He asked as he approached her. Suddenly, Nia felt her heart race as she stammered, I’m good. “Good. Hope you left some food for me. Got some on your face, too.” Nia gasped and scrambled for a napkin, hoping the grease hadn’t made her look like a pig rolling in mud.

Kelvin’s hearty laugh halted her movements. “I’m playing with you, girl.” Nia’s eyes lowered in annoyance. His dimpled smile was the spark that ignited something warm within her. She suddenly felt bashful, embarrassed almost, yet dually at ease. How did he manage to do that?

“Anyway,” Nia dragged, turning on the bar stool to face him. Kelvin leaned against the counter, attentive as he ate the remainder she didn’t eat. Her palms were sweating, and she wondered if it was the temperature in the room or just him standing there, leaning so casually against the counter. She hadn’t expected to feel so… off-balance. She tried not to show how his gaze affected her as she continued, “What does your DVD collection include?”

Kelvin cocked his head to the side and nodded a few times. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. They were full. Full and plump and moisturized, she wondered what they tas—. Dear God. Nia, get it together, she scolded internally.

“Damn near every Marvel movie. Most of the Black cinema movies: Love, Jones, A Thin Line Between Love and Hate, Last Holiday, Brown Sugar—“

Nia’s eyes lit up. Kelvin couldn’t miss it. His eyebrow raised, “First one of the night?” She nodded like a kid who cheerfully finished their chores and awaited their allowance.

“Let’s get it going, then.”

Kelvin had soon plopped on the couch beside her, the smell of Chinese food lingering between them. Still adjusting to the fact that she was in his home, Nia shifted uncomfortably on the cushion. Her legs, sprawled out normally when she was alone, were tucked tightly beneath her bottom.

She could feel the warmth of his body next to hers, but she kept her gaze ahead. Her heartbeat pounded so vigorously that she felt it in her ears. Curling the blanket tightly under her chin, she shrank into the couch cushion.

Kelvin didn’t miss the small movements she made to avoid getting close. He sensed the tension but didn’t press. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. After a beat, he reached over her to grab the remote. He didn’t miss how she gasped when his fingertips grazed her ankle in passing.

“Hey,” he said, his voice light and teasing. “You gonna sit over there or come over here and share the blanket?”

Nia’s eyes darted diagonally as if looking for a way out. Was it that obvious, or was he hyper-vigilant? She shrugged a shoulder. She scooted over just a bit, but not enough to close the large gap between them.

Kelvin chuckled, the sound warm, “Girl, get over here,” he said softly, a playful yet inviting invitation. He wasn’t about to push her, but he wanted her to feel wanted.

Nia finally gave in with a reluctant smile. Slowly, she moved until their hips brushed. Kelvin reached over her to adjust the blanket, ensuring she felt comfortable. She stole a glance at him as he adjusted his position. He was so calm and relaxed as if it were natural and second nature.

They ate silently, passing the food back and forth as their eyes followed the scenes on the screen. They said tiny because they were content but unprepared to address their tension. Everything between them felt effortless, like a routine they’d perfected.

Halfway through the movie, Nia yawned. Work, shopping, and dealing with her door had done a number on her, and all she desired was her head against a pillow and a room of darkness for eight hours. “I think I’m gonna crash.” Her eyes dropped slightly as she moved the blanket to cover her feet. “I’ll just sleep here on the couch.”

Kelvin blinked, clearly surprised. “You wanna sleep on the couch?” His voice softened, and Nia saw a hint of concern in his eyes for the first time. “Nah, I don’t want you sleeping on the couch.” He shook his head in disagreement.

Nia’s lips parted, “I don’t want to displace you…”

Kelvin laughed as if what she had said was part of Kevin Hart’s comedy set. “You’re not gonna displace me, Nia; I live here. I’ll be cool, regardless. I didn’t buy those expensive ass couches for no reason. I just don’t want you sleeping on them. Sleep in the bed.”

Her silence and awkward sway didn’t go unnoticed. She fiddled with her fingers like a child and pursed her lips. She knew it was kind of him, but she still felt a smidge of guilt. This man, her neighbor, had opened his home to her, let her eat his food, and lounge on his couch watching her favorite movie. Now, he insisted on her sleeping in his bed, not because he wanted to sleep with her but because he wanted her to be comfortable. Her other neighbors were friendly, but they weren’t kind like this. The kindness was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly sweet.

Kelvin tilted his head. His words tested unsteady waters: “You want me to sleep with you?”

And just as she thought she couldn’t get any more flustered, Nia’s face warmed like the earth beneath the sun’s rays. She stammered, “W-what? No—not like that.”

The corner of Kelvin’s lip twitched as he tried to hide his smile. For someone so outwardly confident, Nia had the awkwardness and quirks of a 17-year-old girl. She was easily bashful and overwhelmed, often stuttered over her words when embarrassed and had difficulty keeping eye contact with him after more than 30 seconds. Yet, the average Joe would never know that by her soft smile, steady walk, and confident sway of her hips. It was cute.

“Not like that,” he reassured softly. “If that’ll make you comfortable. No funny business.” Kelvin raised his hands like a boy scout and nodded stiffly to emphasize his point. Nia rolled her eyes playfully and agreed. For her comfort, she told herself.

Kelvin instructed her to head to his room, the farthest down the hallway on the left, while he cleaned the laundry room and kitchen. Nia grabbed and slung her tote bag over her shoulder, curiously walking down the hallway. The smell of newly purchased wallflowers caressed her senses, adding a new level to domesticity.

Kelvin’s room wasn’t like the rest of his home, which was vibrant and full of colors and patterns. His bedroom was calm, dimly lit, and minimal. His bed was in the center and took up most of the space. The cloud-like duvet was pristine white and looked new. Her fingertips caressed the soft fabric. Her brown eyes raised, and she nodded approvingly at what she saw. Three prints hung horizontally above his bed, all fine-line art of the Black woman—beautiful.

Two black nightstands with matching lamps accompanied the bed. One nightstand, which she assumed was his, contained a book, a journal, a BIC pen, and glasses scattered about, while the other was empty, waiting for something to accompany it.

A chair and small table were in the corner, along with books and magazines written by Black authors and published by Black companies, plus a plant. She smiled. It was cozy.

Nia found her way to the bathroom. Its aesthetic matched his bedroom. Black and white with hints of earthy colors. She set her toiletry bag on the counter next to his, her white one contrasting with his black one. She found herself soaking in his space. Her fingertips ran over the hand towels, sleek hand soap bottles, and the cap that covered his toothbrush. She was with him. In his home. In his room and his bathroom. They were close.

Nia gasped when the door opened. “Sorry, you alright?” Nia nodded and ushered him in. Kelvin’s body heat set her on fire as he reached above her to grab his contacts case out of the medicine cabinet. Her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled quietly. He smelled so good.

His question pulled her out of Lala's land quicker than she would have liked. “You mind if I brush my teeth in here?”

“It is your house, Kelvin,” Nia stated matter-of-factly. “Go ahead. I need to brush mine, too.”

The bathroom was quiet, save for the soft hum of Nia's electric toothbrush and the rhythmic sound of bristles against teeth. She hummed absently, her tune mingling with the buzz of the brush. When her eyes lifted to the mirror, she froze, caught off guard—not by her reflection, but by Kelvin’s gaze. He’d already been looking. His brown eyes held hers for a heartbeat, a game of hide-and-seek she hadn’t known she was playing. Then, he winked. Heat crept up her neck as she fought the smile threatening to curl around her sudsy, blue toothbrush.

Kelvin leaned forward, spitting into the sink before rinsing his toothbrush. "You hum off-key, you know that?" he teased, shaking water off his hands.

Nia gave him a dramatic side-eye through the mirror, blue toothpaste foam still coating her lips. "And you hold your toothbrush like you're fencing. What's your point?"

He laughed low and easy, the sound reverberating through the small bathroom. She rinsed her mouth and joined him at the sink. Their movements fell into an unspoken rhythm: she reached for the towel as he dried his face, their elbows brushing, but neither pulled away.

"You heading to bed?" she asked, her voice light, as if it wasn’t the only question between them.

Kelvin nodded, tossing the hand towel over the rack. "Yeah. You?"

"Guess so," she said, tucking a stray curl under her bonnet.

His eyes lingered on her for a moment too long as if gauging her next move. Without waiting for his response, she padded toward his room, her bare feet muffled against the carpet. Kelvin followed, flipping the light switch off as he went.

Nia plopped onto the bed, tucking her knees beneath her, and pulled the covers up to her chin. She bit her lip, glancing over at Kelvin, still standing by the dresser and slipping his shirt off. How often did he work out? Three days a week? Four, five? She couldn’t tell, but she knew it was frequent by how his back tensed with subtle movements. Her mind raced, and she swallowed, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach.

“Uh,” she started, her voice quieter than she intended. “I guess this is the part where you’re supposed to say something cute, right?”

Kelvin shot her a playful look, eyebrow raised. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then half-smiled, her face warming. "I dunno, like 'I’m glad you’re here,' or 'I can’t imagine sleeping without you'… something sweet."

Kelvin chuckled, shaking his head as he climbed into bed beside her. "You want me to lie?"

Nia shrugged, her fingers nervously twisting at the hem of her shirt. "Maybe not lie, just… something that doesn’t sound so weird."

He gave her a teasing look before letting the silence hang for a second, the air between them feeling lighter than before. "Alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I’m glad you’re here."

Her breath caught for a moment. It wasn’t just a casual remark—it was real. He wasn’t trying to ease her anxiety with empty words; it was exactly what she needed to hear. Her lips parted in surprise, but she couldn't entirely hide the joy she felt from his statement. Her reaction seemed to satisfy him, as his eyebrow raised and his dimples appeared.

“Thanks," Nia murmured, her voice quieter now, almost shy. "I’m glad I’m here, too.”

Nia’s fingers kept fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, cautious energy buzzing through her veins. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this unsure, but her body betrayed her want with every passing second. One moment, she yearned for his attention; the next, she was shaking like a stripper when she got it. And Lord knows it didn’t help that Kelvin was beside her so calmly as if he didn’t have the treasure between her thighs ready to explore.

Kelvin, already propped up on the pillows beside her, had an arm behind his head, his eyes casually studying her. Had his eyes always been this pretty? They were so big and brown. Like a baby, though. She glanced at his chest, still warm from the clothes he shed earlier, and she felt her heart race again. What was it about him that made her feel like this?

Kelvin noticed her gaze, and his lips curved into something that felt like reassurance and an unspoken invitation. His hand moved, resting just above her knee, but he didn’t lean any closer. He didn’t have to; the space between them felt alive, thick with anticipation.

“You okay?” His voice was low and soft, like he knew exactly how she felt.

Nia swallowed, her throat dry. Glancing away, she bit her lip, unsure of how to answer. She was more than okay, but putting that into words seemed too much. She nodded, her voice small when she spoke.

“Yeah. Just… nervous.”

Kelvin’s hand shifted from her knee to her thigh, his touch lingering there. “You don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me.”

She could feel his warmth through the fabric of her pants, and her breath hitched slightly at the feel of his palm pressing against her. She wanted to say something—to laugh it off, to ease the tension—but her mind was fuzzy, distracted by how her body responded to his touch. Yeah, just you, she said to herself—the man who had seemingly flipped her already wild world on its head even further.

Slowly, as if testing the waters, she moved slightly closer. Her back brushed against his chest, and she heard his breath catch at the slight contact. Her heartbeat sped up as she felt the heat radiating off of him. But still, she didn’t turn toward him, not yet. She was unsure, but she also wanted him there.

Kelvin’s hand shifted again, inching up her side, his fingertips grazing the skin beneath her shirt. His breath was warm against her ear as he leaned in just slightly as if to say something, but his voice faltered, caught between them.

Nia’s body responded before her mind did, her back relaxing as she pressed closer to him. It wasn’t much—just a shift—but it felt like a silent invitation. And it was all he needed.

His fingers found their way to her waist, gently caressing the curve of her body. The movement was so slow that it was almost as if he were waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. Instead, she exhaled, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she let herself melt into his touch. Her heart was racing.

Kelvin’s heart raced, too, but it wasn’t from the anticipation. It was the unfamiliar tug of something deeper. His hand, still resting lightly on Nia’s waist, seemed almost too heavy now. He had to fight the instinct to pull away, to give her space—but there was something about how she shifted toward him, her breath soft against the air, that made him want to lean in closer. He could smell the hints of vanilla and honey on her skin. He wanted to bury his nose in her neck and inhale.

He didn’t want to move too fast. Didn’t want to scare her off. But every little breath she took, every slight movement she made, felt like an invitation for something more.

His hand stayed where it was, not quite touching the softness of her skin beneath her shirt but just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her. He wanted to trace the curve of her waist, feel her breath hitch again, maybe even make her laugh or stammer, but there was a part of him—this silent voice in the back of his mind—that told him to wait. Patience was a virtue, grandmother always said.

He shifted slightly, his gaze flickering from the softness of her face to the curve of her neck. His lips tingled as he imagined kissing her there. He felt her pulse beneath his lips as her body reacted to him in ways it may not have responded before. But he pulled himself back, catching himself just before his thoughts got too far ahead. Nia was already nervous, already unsure.

Her back pressed against his chest, and the simple contact sent a jolt of electricity through him, sharper than anything physical. The warmth of her body was a stark contrast to the cool sheets around them, and he could feel every inch of her. What if he moved too fast? What if he said the wrong thing?

Kelvin wasn’t one for hesitation, but with Nia, everything was different. He wanted to be gentle, to let her feel like she wasn’t just a passing moment. He wanted her to feel safe with him, to know that when he touched her, it wasn’t just about tonight.

Finally, when she moved closer again, he couldn’t hold back. His hand, frozen in place, finally pulled her in closer. His fingers skimmed the skin of her abdomen as he slowly wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even tighter. This time, when she exhaled, her body relaxed into him, and his breath came out in a rush of relief.

“Goodnight, Kel,” Nia murmured into her arm.

“Sleep well, beautiful,” was the last thing she heard before falling into her best sleep in a long time. Because, for once, she didn’t have to go to bed alone.

#saturnville #kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr x reader #kelvin harrison jr x black oc #kelvin harrison jr x black reader #black!reader #black reader #x black oc #kelvin harrison jr smut #aaron pierre x black reader #mufasa the lion king #original content

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peachsukii · 9 months ago

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stitched muses ꒰ tangled hearts series - kiribaku x fem!reader ꒱ ⇢ bakugo's stumped on inspiration for his upcoming fashion line, the deadline fast approaching as he's working day and night to meet it. he's frustrated at his lack of ideas, stuck in his home office while you and kirishima are enjoying your weekly movie night. he's pacing the house, putting too much pressure on himself to excel. little did you know you'd be the solution to his temporary dead-end creativity.

꒰ content ꒱ bakugo's a grumpy goose, fluffy domestic goodness, bakugo has that little "eureka!" moment, kirishima is cute & cuddly, mitsuki asks reader to lunch cross posted to ao3 // wc; ~1.4k ✿ tangled hearts masterlist ✿ ↶ | previous entry (sweet like honey) ↷ | next entry (one-way ticket)

The rain pattered against the Bakugo-Kirishima household, echoing as the droplets bounced of the roof in an off beat rhythm. Spring has truly sprung, the rainy season coming in full force over the course of the week.

“Goddammit!”

Bakugo’s frustration traveled from his office and through out the house, accompanied by the sound of his chair forcefully retreating from his desk. He despised the rain, the miserable storm only adding an unnecessary layer of irritation to his long work day. He trudged out of his office, shoulders slumped as he makes his way into the kitchen.

Kirishima and yourself are sitting on the living room couch, snuggled under a blanket and watching a romcom on tv for your weekly movie night. Bakugo was supposed to join you two, but he’s been shackled to his laptop all day long. He’d step away for a minute, thinking he could take a break, and then shuffle right back to his desk to pace like a caged animal.

“I’m gonna check on him,” you whisper to Kirishima, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as you peel the blanket from your lap.

Sauntering into the kitchen, you see Bakugo making himself tea, silently staring at the countertop and tapping his fingers against the laminate. His gaze shifts sluggishly from the tea kettle to you when you approach his side.

“Hey sweetheart,” he sighs, turning to pull you into his chest. “Sorry for workin’ late. I know you and Ei have been waitin’ for me.”

“It’s okay, Kats, we know you're working hard. Here,” You break away from his embrace and take his mug from the counter, using your hip to playfully bump him out of your way. “Let me finish this and make you something to eat.”

"S'fine, baby, I can—"

"Katsuki," you interrupt sternly, followed by a sweet smile to soften the bite in your tone. "I made dinner for all of us earlier, I'll get you a plate with your tea and bring it to you."

Bakugo grumbles under his breath, not having it in him to fight your stubbornness. He leans down and meets your lips for a brief kiss before moving to the living room, hovering behind the couch for a moment.

"Hey babe," Kirishima says, flashing his toothy grin backwards toward him. "Try and call it a night soon, yeah?"

Bakugo bends over the couch, cradling Kirishima’s jaw in his hands and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. “M’tryin’. This deadline is killing me.”

“Mom hounding ya again?”

Hearing Kirishima call Mitsuki “mom” made your heart flutter from the kitchen, such a simple sentiment making you melt. Watching your boyfriend’s love for one another naturally flow will never get old, even though they’ve been married for years, it still was new to you to witness casually.

Bakugo rolls his eyes. “She’s been bitchin’ at me all week.”

“She loves ya and knows she can push your buttons to get you to succeed,” Kirishima assures, kissing the tip of Bakugo’s nose. “Anythin’ we can do to help?”

He releases Kirishima’s face from his grasp and steps back from the couch, shaking his head with a frown on his face. “Unless you suddenly have a knack for fabric and textiles, don’t think so.”

You round the corner of the island in the kitchen, a plate in one hand and cup of hot tea in the other, making your way to Bakugo’s office. Kirishima sighs contently as he watches your silhouette disappear down the hallway.

“That woman is a damn goddess,” he swoons, deflating back into the couch cushions. “Go eat and wrap up. We can start another movie when you're done.”

Bakugo nods his head and turns to head back to the office. He peers in the doorway to find you mesmerized by the designs scattered across his desk - multiple sketches of clothes, scribbled notes about fabric choices and design suggestions on every page. You glance toward the door, catching him staring.

"These all look great, love. What's got you stumped?" you ponder aloud while organizing the papers back into their proper piles.

Bakugo crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "It's too bland, shit's been done a thousand times. Need somethin' that'll be versatile."

"Maybe you're thinking too much into it."

He blankly stares at you for a moment - you can see the wheels turning in his head while he processes your statement.

"...Do y'know who you're talking to?"

You can't help but laugh, walking around his desk and to the doorway. "I do, hotshot. You're an incredible designer, but not everything needs to be fashion week quality. Most people would just walk around in a t-shirt if they had the option."

Something in his mind clicks the moment you mention 't-shirt,' immediately sending him bolting upstairs and to the bedroom without another word. Bakugo comes barreling back down the stairs with a few t-shirts in hand moments later, tossing all but one onto the back of his office chair.

"Strip," he demands, hands on his hips impatiently.

You quirk your eyebrow at him, but discard your sleep shirt and sweatpants as ordered. Once you do, he shoves the shirt he grabbed over your head, threading your arms through the sleeves and taking a step back to analyze it in full.

"...this is one of your shirts? What does that—"

"Gimmie a sec to think."

The t-shirt is worn out, heavily loved over the years with a faded band logo over the chest and spotted with bleach stains. It was slightly too big for you, cascading over your figure and ending around your mid-thigh area.

Bakugo clicks his tongue while pushing up his glasses back into place. "Turn around."

You obey, turning your back to him. He cinches the back of the shirt with one hand and pulls at the hem by your thigh with the other, as if he's fitting you into his imaginary garment.

"Think ya just solved my problem, sweets," Bakugo says with excitement, letting the t-shirt fall back into its natural state before scooting past you and sliding into his office chair. He turns to the screen, opening a new e-mail and begins furiously typing, paragraphs flowing from his fingers in the matter of minutes.

"Don't forget your dinner and tea," you remind him, turning on your heel to head back to the living room. "I'll leave you be."

"Don't let Ei finish the popcorn without me."

Returning to the couch, you plop down next to Kirishima and fold your head into his lap. He looks at the shirt your wearing, noticing it's definitely not the one you were in 15 minutes ago. And that you're not wearing pants.

"Ah, so he needed that kinda motivation," he snickers, ruffling a hand through your hair.

You chuckle and wiggle in his lap. "No babe, not this time. He should be done soon."

Half an hour later, Bakugo comes into the living room, sighing dramatically as he falls onto the couch, head landing on Kirishima's thighs.

"Made it with three days to spare," he rasps, putting up a victory fist with exhaustion. "Ma approved it, too. S'goin' to be expedited to production tomorrow."

"Way to go, superstar!" You exclaim, bending down to kiss his forehead. "Knew you could do it."

"Good work, Kats! What did you end up going with?" Kirishima asks, a hand massaging Bakugo's shoulder to help him relax.

"She was right, I was thinkin' too hard about it. You'll see it when it's released next month."

"Aw, you're not even gonna tell us after all that?!"

Bakugo snickers, turning to face the TV. "Nah, you two can wait like everyone else. S'nothin' out of this world, but I'm proud of it."

───

Later that night, your phone pings a few times with multiple messages while you're getting ready for bed back in your apartment - they're from Mitsuki.

How did she even get your number?

"Hey sweetie, it's Mitsuki. Thanks for being patient with my brat. Even at 30 he's still a pain in the ass sometimes! He's lucky to have one, let alone two, people tolerate him long enough to stick around." "Are you free for lunch sometime? I'd love to get to know you better. Katsuki and Eijiro talk about you a lot."

Mitsuki wants to meet for lunch? You've met her a handful of times, but she doesn't...know about you guys yet.

Right?

You respond with a simple "Sure, I'd love to!" and leave it at that.

You're not sure why, but there's a bundle of nerves knotting in your stomach over the thought of having to impress Katsuki's mother.

No, it's not like that...yet.

mitsuki's always been perceptive...you think she knows about you and the boys? and what'll happen when you celebrate katsuki's new fashion line with friends in a few weeks and you tag along? 😉 ⇢ wildflowers; @maddietries @smolbeanzzz @camila2201 @lik0 @pixel4ffecti0n @moonlight-dreamer04 @lumi-cent @pastelbakugou @hannahk @camryn-ciel67 @c4prisuna @perfectsukii @screechingpeachdelusion @lightsgore @cuntpiercedprincess @aphrodite-xoxo

#kiribaku x reader #poly kiribaku #KiriBaku #bakushima #bakugo x kirishima #kiribaku x reader fluff #kiribaku x y/n #bakugo x reader #kirishima x reader #Eijiro Kirishima #Katsuki Bakugo #bakugo fluff #kirishima fluff #my hero academia #☆.rei writes #☆.tangledhearts

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pedriache · 3 months ago

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hi! could you do one where cubarsi hurts his face and the reader gets very worried and pampers him a lot

Using the translator I hope you understand

love your writing 💕

Look after you — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend getting injured had put you through a lot of stress. The only way to make up for how bad you felt for him, was to take care of him as best as you could.

Word count: 1.42k+

Disclaimer/s: Blood, injury, stitches, ect.. hurt to comfort / fluff

A/N: When I catch that stupid mf that did this .... EUGHHH I HATE THIS ONE IM SORRY I SHOULD’VE REWRITTEN IT. but im lazy.

You were in a stress induced state of extreme panic. You had been watching the game from home when Pau had gotten injured. You had just barely caught a glimpse of his face, but you saw the red.

In an instant you’d reached for you phone, shot a few texts to him, then to his mother, even to Lamine, though you knew he wouldn’t be seeing it any time soon.

You had paced around your living room for the better part of an hour just waiting for your phone to ding, the game long since forgotten.

When you finally heard the notification, your heart stopped, then slowly began beating once again. He was fine.

That was all you needed to chill out. He was fine, just a little beaten up! Though, he wouldn’t send you any pictures and made you promise not to open instagram till he got back to Barcelona, which was a struggle, but you did it anyways.

He was due to arrive at your house any second now. You had long since changed into pajamas and did your night routine, finally sitting down to rest when the doorbell had you pausing mid sit down.

As you made large, nervous steps toward toward door, you nearly winced opening it. You were met with a fidgeting Pau. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you took in his face.

There was no blood, just bruises, a few cuts, and one long gash on his chin that had stitches on it. You didn’t mean to gasp, but you definitely hadn’t been expecting that.

“Holy shit…” Your voice trails off as you take a step back to allow him inside. Your eyes remained wide and watchful, never leaving his face even when he walked past you.

“Yeah, I know.” Pau says through a breathy laugh, his eyes twitching with a hint of pain that flashes across them.

Your lips pull into a deep frown. “How bad does it hurt?” You ask while closing and locking the door behind you.

The teen shrugs, leaning against one of the white walls. “They gave me some numbing stuff, so it’s not that bad.” He was trying to act tough, causing your eyes to roll.

“Right, because numbing ‘stuff’ makes up for being kicked in the face with cleats.” You take a few steps towards your boyfriend, your hand lifting to his face apprehensively.

Pau watches you carefully as you tenderly move his face to look at the wounds in a better lighting. His heart thumps in his chest at how gentle you were being. He watches your eyebrows pinch together in worry and the way your bottom lip pushed out into a pout. He adored how cute you looked when you were worried.

“I’m fine..” He whispers your name, making your eyes flicker up to his.

Letting out a long exhale, you shake your head. “Let’s go clean this and put new cream on, God only knows how much germs you’ve already collected.”

Pau winces through a grin, following you toward the bathroom where you were rummaging around for your first aid kit. “Come on, it’ll be fine! Let’s just go watch TV.”

“Sit on the damn toilet and shut up.” You huff, pointing at him warningly. “I am not letting my boyfriend’s face get infected.”

Clamping his mouth shut, the brunette boy does just as you tell him, mumbling a, “yes ma’am,” as he did so.

Once you had washed your hands thoroughly, you set the kit on the counter before taking out a few alcohol wipes. “Other than being absolutely abused on the pitch, how was the game?” You ask curiously while peeling the packet.

Pau lifts his head up to look at you despite the pain the coursed through his neck at the motion. “Good, we won.” He shrugs, offering you another small, but painful smile.

You chuckle, nodding. “That’s true. Okay, this may hurt..” That was the only warning you’d given him right before you lightly cupped his chin between your index finger and thumb to keep his head still. You proceed to (as gently as possible) disinfect the cuts across his face.

Pau tried his hardest not to wince or hiss, but he gave up within a few seconds. That’s when the complaint’s came.

“Ouch? Try to be a little more gentle, yeah?”

“Are you done yet?”

“Ay! You’re being a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“Please tell me you are done.”

You’d found great amusement in it all, because you knew you were not being harsh, you were barely touching the boy.

“Baby, you’re being a little dramatic, no?” You tease, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of his head.

“Dramatic?” He clamps his mouth shut when you step back and grab steri-strips. “What’s that for?”

“Uhm, to cover your stitches?” You blink, “to keep them in tact.”

Pau groans, “they are so uncomfortable though!”

You press a finger to your lips, shushing him. “I am your girlfriend and if you love me, you’ll comply. Now, let me fix you up. Then, after that, i’ll order us takeout and we can watch a movie of your choosing. Does that sound like a deal?”

Looking up at you, Pau nods reluctantly. “I can deal with that.”

Rolling your eyes at his smugness, you continue cleaning his face. He watches you intently the whole time, his hands finding a comfortable spot on the backs of your lower thighs.

Once they were applied, you take one step away from him, examining his face. "Did they say when the swelling will go down?"

Pau nods his head, "a few days. Should be gone by Friday or Saturday."

“Okay! All done.” You grin, leaning back to examine your work. “Wow, I should go to Uni to be a doctor.”

Pau stands, walking to stand in front of the mirror to see your handy work. “Oh, you did do good.” Offense flashes across your face and his eyes widening in panic when he notices it. “No! I didn’t doubt you—“

A small laugh bubbles in your throat, “it’s fine, loser. Go to the living room, i’ll be there in a second.”

Pau complies and while he does that, you grab your phone to order takeout. Once that’s done, you find your way to the living room where your boyfriend sat back comfortably, scrolling through movie choices.

“Food will be here in twenty, do you need anything? Water, snacks, extra pillow?” You stand beside the kitchen door, awaiting his answer.

Pau couldn’t help the twitch of his lips. “Okay, nurse. I don’t need anything, come here.” He lifts his hands to motion for you to come closer.

“Alright, no need to be snarky. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” You huff, plopping down beside him and leaning onto the armrest. You pat your lap, which Pau rolls his eyes at.

“I’m not a dog.” He quips, though he lays his head down anyways. You laugh at that, running your hands through his hair.

“Wanna wait for the food to watch a movie, or we can start it now?” You hum, looping a few of his hair around your finger.

Letting out a long breath, Pau’s eyes fluttered open. “Wait. Tell me about your day?”

So you do. You go on about your day, the stress he caused you, ect. The whole time you give him tender touches, massaging his head, and running your hand through his soft hair.

When the food comes, you get up and retrieve it. For the rest of the night you spend it taking care of Pau. If he needed something, you got it for him, if he wanted a kiss, you gave it to him, everything and anything he wanted, was his. And Pau was enjoying it.

“Maybe I should get injured more often.” He suggests, which earned him a nice little flick to the top of his head. “Ouch?! Did you just flick an injured man?”

“I flicked an injured man who’s thinking about getting injured again so he can be pampered again.” You argue with an amused tone.

Pau chuckles, “can you blame me?”

“Well, yes! Actually.” You quirk an eyebrow, leaning down to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “Never get hurt again for the love of all God.”

The boy pushes himself up so his arms were resting against the armrest and he was much closer to you. “I’ll try not to, I suppose.” He grins, leaning forward for another kiss.

Likes, comments, and reblog’s are all appreciated. Lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @iovepoem !

#pau cubarsi #pau cubarsi x you #pau cubarsi x y/n #pau cubarsi fluff #pau cubarsi one shot #pau cubarsi x reader #pau cubarsi imagine #pau cubarsí #hurt/comfort #comfort/fluff #blurb #football #fluff #fanfic #fc barcelona #fc barcelona fic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 28 days ago

Text

What is happening here? It's a 1971 mid century modern time capsule in Homer Glen, IL, 4bds, 3ba, 3,116 sq ft, $410k, but something's "off." Take a look inside. Weird batch of homes for sale today.

This is the weirdest damned fireplace I've ever seen.

It's like a blob coming down the steps. It does have a large living room and then over yonder up the 2 stairs, that look like they're collapsing, there's a dining room.

In the dining room.

Then there's this area, 2 steps down from the kitchen. Maybe it's a dinette.

The original kitchen has laminate cabinetry, counters, an avocado sink, and mismatched appliances.

There's the old intercom on the wall.

This looks like the primary bedroom. Has a brick feature wall with ceiling beams.

Uhhh... What is that? Looks like blood's coming out of the faucet.

This 2nd bedroom is pretty large.

The shower spigot is low b/c the tub is deep into the ground. What's the other stuff on the wall, though?

Here's a weird room. There are sliding doors, but no terrace. Are those stairs on the left or just a hole?

Well at least there are a couple of moldy boards to stand on outside.

The walls are peeling in here and it looks like stalactites hanging down, too.

There's a pond next to the house.

.89 acre lot.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/14450-S-Oak-Trl-Homer-Glen-IL-60491/5429480_zpid/?

#mid century modern homes #MCM architecture #time capsules #houses house tours #home tour #homes under $450k

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syoddeye · 10 days ago

Text

the warren, ten - curious

price x f!reader | 3k words | series page | ao3 tags: mine/underground, gaslighting, minor injury, dual pov a/n: john takes you on a trip.🔪

"There she is. Mind locking it behind you, darl? We're closing early."

John doesn't look up from the register drawer. The bills of cash look like monopoly money in his hands. He licks the tip of his thumb and sorts through the stack, the creases in his brow cutting deep. When he's done, he tucks the tender into a scuffed leather envelope.

Embarrassment warms your face as you realize you've never handled this part of the job before. Not even when you've closed alongside him. He must always take care of it, or leave it undone until later. It stings a little. Peels up a sticking corner of your faith. He must not trust you to manage the till. You bite back a comment, shelving it for later. You have enough on your mind, thoughts teetering precariously like a cup filled to the brim, held in only by surface tension.

"Heard you went on an adventure today."

"I did."

"Gotta tell you, love, hate that you didn't ask for a ride," He sets the envelope down and slots the register back into place. He fixes you with a heavy stare, chin tucking toward his chest. "And that you went on foot."

"It's not that far. I've walked further, in the desert." You smile, trying to ease his mood, and remind him you aren't as helpless as he may believe.

But it doesn't work. If anything, your nonchalance hardens him further.

"Yeah? Are there bears in the desert? Cougars?"

It's strange. No, not strange. This is not out of character. John's been like this since you met. Set in his ways, immovable in his convictions, the master of his domain. However he thinks things should go, how the world should spin, it's only a hair beneath the natural laws themselves. Still, you thought you moved beyond that with him and fell outside his mantle of authority. The slight condescension in his tone and body language? It needles you. Your hackles rise. It makes you think of your dad. Of Dusty.

"There are cougars, actually. Coyotes, too. Snakes, bighorns…" You fold your arms. "Even met a surly jackrabbit, once."

John stares hard, thumb picking at a sliver of laminate peeling loose. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring. When he finally speaks, his face softens, tired lines overtaking the sharp ones. Worry seeps through the cracks like water through stone. "That so? Well. If you've taken on the desert before…"

He pushes off the counter then steps around and into the gap. The offer is clear, and you meet him halfway, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's a quiet thing, your apology tucked between tongues. When you part, you rest your head on his chest. His hand glides up your spine.

"Sorry to make you worry."

"S'alright. Stopped worrying when Soap texted that he ran into you outside the library. Bookworm couldn't wait for her next read, eh?"

That sneak. Soap must've texted when you were distracted on the drive.

Your eyes fall to the tortoiseshell button on John's shirt, rising and falling with his breathing. A loose thread sticks out from it. You relate to it.

"Yes and no," you say, lifting your head. "I woke up curious." You lick your lips, thinking about what you'd told Soap in the truck. How he reacted when you said you might get to know everyone better, should you winter in the Panhandle. "If I'm going to stay here, I want to learn more about the area."

"S'pose the library's the place to learn. Though, you could've asked me, too."

All roads lead back to John, and you'd taken the turn willingly the moment you got on your knees for him. The moment you fell into his bed.

"You were busy."

"You couldn't wait?" He echoes and it purses your lip.

Your hackles stir again. Your fraying nerves are to blame, not him. You'll feel better once you let it out.

"Are you busy now?"

"Need to make some deliveries. Ride with me."

Another truck, another conversation about madness. You help load the bed with odds and ends. John's occupation as shop owner and local Renaissance man keeps him busy. He points out a lamp he rewired. Hand tools he sharpened. A bicycle, sporting a new chain and front tire.

The comfortable rhythm between you returns, but you feel his thumb at the edges of you. Prying like he did with that bit of laminate on the counter, trying to ease you open. He wants to know what compelled you to walk the miles to Ponderosa, to sit in the library all day.

He knows you well enough to give you space, to make you feel safe before asking. That's one of the reasons you think you might love him.

John drives, you talk. You tell him everything, skipping over Phil's ominous text and the hold waiting under your name. The hold becomes a random book plucked off a library shelf and how its defacement spurred a morbid fascination with the collapse that swallowed nearly a hundred men.

The lie slips out smoother than you'd like. You hate that it's easier now, that you can meet his eyes as you reshape the truth. He doesn't twitch or look over suspiciously. He just listens. It makes it easier to tell yourself that omission and white lies—they're not deceit, not really.

But when you get to the part about your discovery, you waver. You stumble over your words, starting and stopping like burrs catching and pulling at the fabric of your story.

John glances at you then, quick but pointed. You tugged a thread and he felt the give.

Your explanation is shoddier the second time around.

"...and he looked exactly like Alex. I swear."

John doesn't respond immediately. He pulls the truck off to the side of the road, stopping in front of a mailbox at the end of a long drive. Without a word, he turns the engine off, climbs out, and heads to the back.

You hear the faint click of the bicycle wheel as it spins, the dull thunk as he pulls it free. Watching through the side mirror, you see him push it to the mailbox and prop it there. He stands beside it for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, shoulders slumped.

When he turns back and catches you staring, he gives you a small, uncertain smile, sheepish and laced with pity. You drop your gaze to your shoes.

He thinks you're crazy, too. Perfect.

You're a quarter mile down the road when he finally speaks.

"That's quite the claim."

"I know. I know how it sounds. But John, if you saw him, you'd think the same thing. It's uncanny." You sigh. Every word is a shovelful of dirt. "Soap suggested it was his grandfather or something. Do you know if Alex has roots here?"

"Well, we all have roots here," He smiles a little and reaches over, brushing a hand over your knee. "But if I remember correctly, I believe he was born and raised here."

You nod. That is a comfort. It should be a comfort. It's not that you don't believe John. It's more so you want proof and know you're not sure you want to ask the man in question. Are you from here? Did your grandfather nearly die in a mine collapse?

Frustrated, you lay a hand over John's, tracing the cracks in his knuckles.

"That disappoint you?"

You shrug. "I guess I wanted a mystery."

He chuckles. "Like one of your books, no doubt."

"I suppose so." Though the unease lingers, stitched tight to your stomach lining and unwilling to unwind, you manage to smile. "I heard there's a memorial."

"There is. It's not for—"

"Tourists. Yeah, I know." His lip twitches, and you rush an apology into the gap. "Sorry for interrupting. It's just—who knows. I might not be a tourist in a few weeks. I want to know this place and the people."

That lands differently and with intent. It instantly smooths over your poor manners. His fingers stretch, drumming thoughtfully on the inside of your knee.

"We can visit, if you'd like. You'll see why they don't put in the brochures."

Your eyes widen, surprised he's indulging your curiosity.

"I'd love to. When should we go?"

The truck jerks as he brakes on a patch of gravel, a small spray of rocks pinging against the undercarriage. Dust blooms behind you like smoke.

He grins, a glint of something wild in his eyes. It's conspiratorial like the two of you are teenagers sneaking off to do something you shouldn't.

"Still light out, isn't it?"

The Sawtooth Crest Mine doesn't feel so different from the ghost towns scattered across the Great Basin. A handful of sagging structures, burnt or crushed into rubble by weather and time. Others lean precariously on the verge of collapse.

You pass signs designating offices and a warehouse, bunkhouses, and a rec hall. You scan the empty windows and doorways as if you'll find answers or at least a hint.

The woods creep in, decades of reclamation around you.

After all the effort to get here, the memorial feels like a joke. A slab of stone with a tarnished plaque bolted onto the front. The text is largely illegible, worn down, and that's what's left. It looks like someone took a pickaxe to the rest of it.

You step closer, brushing your fingers over the pitted stone. John stands back, letting you have the moment. It feels intrusive, like standing at a stranger's grave. You suppose you are, in a way. Some bodies are reported unrecoverable.

The thought makes the back of your neck itch.

John waits until you're done, then gestures toward the mine itself. The main entrance gapes wide, its opening barred with iron rods and sheet metal, wired tight like a broken jaw. While you stare through the gaps, imagining further in, John steps to the side, casually working the padlock on the access door. A click, the chain slithers to the ground in a pile, and the door swings open.

"What are you—Isn't it dangerous?"

"Been here loads of times," he grins. "Drinking with the lads, mucking around. C'mon, we won't go far."

The grin isn't much comfort, but when he beckons, you follow. He leads you into the yawning dark, pulling out an emergency light clipped to his keys, throwing a small pool of light that splashes over your feet and up the closest section of wall. You stick close, your shoulder brushing his arm as the daylight behind you fades.

As you walk along, he talks. He points out the skeletal remains of machinery, rusted carts, and tools that have sat untouched for decades. The damp air thickens with the smell of soil and rust. You reach a junction where two tunnels branch off from a central chamber, a lift cage sitting in the middle, waiting.

John points to it, voice bouncing off the walls as he explains how it worked, how the whole system of pulleys and tracks kept the mine running. About the hoist operators, and how they were 'jokingly' referred to as Saint Peter.

It's leagues more than Dusty ever shared, more than you ever overheard at the company picnics where he kept you in the dark as his smiling but simple wife. The irony isn't lost on you—standing here now, in the dark, learning more about your husband's trade from another man than you had in years.

"How do you know so much?"

John shrugs, his proud smile cast in shadow. "Talking to old-timers at The Fox Hole. They've got stories for days, especially after a few pints." His hand worries the cable like he's feeling for a pulse. "Nikolai's worse than me. The know-it-all." Then, he steps closer, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you to him. He presses a brief kiss to your forehead.

"Hate to be crass, but I've got to take a leak. Got your phone?"

You fumble it out of your pocket, holding it up. The model is too old for a flashlight, but you turn the brightness up as far as it'll go and point it at the ground.

"Good," He sounds far too at home as if you're not both standing in the belly of a dead mine. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

He glances between the tunnels, making his choice, before he starts down the left passage.

You watch the dark swallow him whole.

"Don't go too far."

There's an answer, but it's more sound than speech and further away than it should be.

And then his footsteps recede.

The glow of your phone barely lights your shoes. You shift your weight, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the low simmer of unease in your stomach from boiling over into something embarrassing. The flesh clenched between your teeth heats anyway.

John isn't far. He's just around the corner. If you walk down that tunnel, you'll see.

Your feet move, body ahead of your brain, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up.

Then you catch it—nostrils flaring. Wet dog, mixed with straw. Brimstone and iron. Your shoulders tighten, a shiver running down your arms, goosebumps raising. Folding them across your chest, phone pointed out, you continue, taking tiny half-steps. Shuffling.

The tunnel warms as you go. The walls sweat. Silver flecks reflect the dim light like the creature's eyes you saw out your window.

"John?" You mean to call out, though it shakes out in a whisper. It's like trying to scream in a nightmare, stuck under the thick ice of sleep. You try again. "John?" No better.

Behind you, a metallic creak cuts through the silence. You freeze. Then your feet find full strides, the shuffle turning into a hurried walk. Pebbles slide underfoot, and you glance down, stopping short when you see it—a sandy tuft of hair, coarse and matted, lying just beside your foot.

The phone light trembles as you crouch, about to pluck the tuft from the ground.

And then another noise.

A low, guttural rumble rolls through the tunnel. You snap upright, spinning toward the direction you came from, holding your phone out as if it's an actual torch. The light catches nothing, and the growl comes again. Deeper. Closer.

You run.

The light swings wildly as you stumble forward, colliding hard with a set of support beams. They groan and slightly give at the impact, a thick cloud of dust erupting straight into your face. You cough and spin, lunging down the left passage when the tunnel splits again, painfully aware of how hopelessly lost you're becoming.

Something brushes your elbow, and every nerve in your body sounds the alarm. You jerk forward instinctively, your feet sliding on loose gravel. The ground shifts, and suddenly, you're falling, the cold floor of the mine rushing up to meet you in a bone-rattling thud.

You wake to a hand stroking your head. Your cheek rests on denim, rough but warm beneath you, and the rumble of an engine. You realize you're horizontal, stretched across the front seat of John's truck, your head resting on his thigh. The road bumps and jars you as the truck barrels forward.

"John?" Your voice cracks on his name.

The hand on your head pauses, then resumes, gentler. You tilt your head, blinking spots from your vision, and catch his worried glances. His face is tight, his jaw set. "You're alright. Took a spill, I think. Found you halfway down a tunnel in a heap."

You push upright despite his protests, wincing at the pull in your muscles. Your hand drifts to your forehead, where it throbs, and you flinch at a smear of sticky, drying blood. "What…?"

"Just a scrape. I checked it. Must've clocked yourself on the way down."

The truck jolts over a bump, and you steady against the door, staring at the trees blurring past. The sun is dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet as John speeds down the logging road. How long were you out?

"Thought I told you to stay put," John chides softly, a nervous smile twitching his lip. "What were you doing?"

The memory floods back. The growl. The chase. Something touched you.

You stare straight ahead, fingers feeling nothing when you check your elbow.

Sometimes our minds play tricks.

"I…I don't know." You force a shrug, licking your lips. "I don't know."

John sees to your forehead. He dabs at the wound with a damp cloth, then spreads a layer of antibiotic over it with the tip of his finger. Twice, he asks if you're up to date on your tetanus shot, and twice, you confirm you are.

When he smooths the bandage on, his thumbs press it into place. He gently kisses it, then tilts your chin and kisses your lips the same way.

"Skittish thing," he teases, though his eyes carry a tinge of regret. "Shouldn't have left you alone."

Before you can respond, he's kissing you again, deeper, his hands sliding down to steady you atop his kitchen table like you might slip away.

You don't slip at all. You end up underneath him.

~~~~

While his girl sleeps off the consequences of her walk, his lesson leaking out of her, John summons his Watcher.

Kate is a good woman. Useful. Steady under pressure, keen as her old man, maybe more. She shoulders the responsibility and knows better than to complain. Her father wore his duty like a crown and bore it as a source of pride. Kate treats it as a job. One she always gets done.

But she pushes it.

"Why the fed, John?" she flicks ash from her cigarette. "He was bound to give up and leave."

John picks his teeth. "Didn't like the way he looked at her."

Kate narrows her eyes, dragging smoke into her lungs. "Looking at a pretty woman isn't a crime. There'd be plenty more carcasses if it was." She exhales sharply. "You broke the conditions of the pact."

"The conditions," he sneers, "state I can harvest the unfortunates and ne'er-do-wells. Vagrants. Show me an agent of the state with clean hands, and I'll cough Mr. Graves up right now."

Her lip curls at that, distaste evident. "A technicality, then. Still don't like it. All it got you was one meal, and it invited attention."

He ignores her insubordination. "You got information on the second course?"

"Kyle Garrick. Sent to investigate Graves's disappearance…" Kate reads, stubbing her cigarette on the edge of the counter. "And to look into other disappearances in the area."

John takes the picture Kate offers and stares at the younger man, oblivious to his new headshot. "He's looking for me, I presume?"

"Naturally, but…"

"But what?"

"He's looking for her, too."

Smoke curls between them. This fed business—it's irritating, inevitable. They've done this song and dance before. No matter the reason, the thought of some young buck sniffing around his doe sets his teeth on edge.

"Let's orchestrate a meeting then," John finally says, peeling the loose strip of laminate off in one smooth go. "Use this curious streak of hers to our advantage."

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