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awrkive · 3 months

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!"

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that!

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away.

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him.

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com.

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless.

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk.

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes.

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you.

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either.

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you.

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost.

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed.

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck! Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

#fic: nb #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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derinwrites · 5 months

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The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

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pretty-sparkle-bomb · 11 days

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This is heavily based off of a canon event that is happening in my life, so I've decided to feed yall the details as they happen. Enjoy ♡

Check out my Bakugo Masterlist here! This series is linked under the name "Highschool Crush"

Pt 1

Katsuki Bakugo never noticed you. It's not necessarily a bad thing, is it? After all, this is Bakugo we're talking about—the guy who doesn’t even know the names of half his classmates and calls everyone an extra. Even you are surprised that you have feelings for this hot-headed, time-ticking explosion.

It’s not his fault he hasn’t noticed you. You’re usually in a corner, either drawing, listening to music, or browsing on your phone. When you do hang out with your friends, you tend to be quiet and reserved.

He never paid much attention to you until one day, when he enters class to find a huge crowd of girls gathered around the table next to his. They're squealing and screaming as if they’ve seen Taylor Swift.

Someone finally shouts, “Shh! Look…uh at that bird!”

Katsuki is confused, his eyebrows furrowing as he notices multiple pairs of eyes on him. “The hell are ya lookin’ at?” he asks gruffly, marching over to his table and setting his bag down.

He notices their giggles and the fact that they’re talking to the girl next to him, giving you gentle shoves and nodding in his direction. He wonders if you’re making fun of him but decides to drop the subject.

What he doesn’t realize is that the girls are excited because they finally managed to corner you and get you to reveal who your crush is.

♥︎~

Katsuki is still puzzled when, during a supposed study session with Kirishima that evening, the redhead suddenly brings up your name.

“Y/N?” Katsuki asks, his head tilting to the side, his focus on the textbook in front of him lost.

“Yeah bro, the girl who sits next to you in class?” Kirishima replies. “How could you not notice her?”

The blonde shrugs, trying to remember where he’s heard your name before. After a moment of silence and contemplation, he shakes his head and attempts to focus again.

Kirishima whistles lowly before blurting out, “She’s into you.”

Katsuki freezes.

Someone likes him?

For the rest of the afternoon, you’re all he can think about. You cloud his mind so much that it becomes overwhelming, and he decides to look you up online.

The next morning, when you walk into class, a pair of crimson eyes is watching your every move, memorizing the keychains on your bag and the bracelet on your right hand, which dangles with your initials in silver.

When you finally look up from your phone, you notice him staring. You feel like you’re going to pass out. You just made eye contact with your crush. Your face heats up into a light shade of pink as you immediately dart your eyes away. You scurry to your seat, drop your bag, and head back outside to chat with a very amused Mina.

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #x reader #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #female yn #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #mha bakugou #bnha bakugou #bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha

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okaylikeschaewon · 12 days

Text

Hot-N-Fun - Part 1

~5k words, Roommates Series, smut

“Call it!”

“They never work,” you chuckled as you pulled your pants back up.

“Yeah but what if this time it’s real,” Mint pleaded while you washed your hands. “I’d do it if my phone wasn’t dead.”

“Seriously?” you began drying your hands. “It’s scratched into the side of the men’s bathroom. How could you possibly think it’s real?”

“You never know!”

“Call for a ‘hot-n-fun’ time? They didn’t even try. I think I can make a pretty safe guess,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “If anything, it’s probably just some dude messing with his friend.”

“You’re probably right,” Mint replied, staring at the scratching. “Either way, it could be funny.”

“Eh, you have a point,” you pulled out your phone and started dialing the number. “Fuck it.”

“That’s my man,” Mint smiled and jumped onto your shoulder, leaning next to your ear as your phone started ringing. “I owe you a drink for this.”

“It’s actually ringing, guess it’s a real number,” you commented, pleasantly surprised, with the phone against your ear. “I doubt they’ll actually pick-”

“Hello?”

It was a girl.

“Oh, hello,” you stammered after spending an awkward amount of time finding your voice.

“Do I know you?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you answered, stifling your laugh as Mint stared at you in shock, his eyes threatening to bulge out of their sockets.

The girl on the phone sighed.

“Did you happen to find this number in a bathroom?”

“Yeah, I figured someone put your number here to mess with you but curiosity got the best of me,” you explained. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Are you a student?”

“I am.”

“Tomorrow, 9 a.m., coffee. The cafe down the street.”

Mint began frantically nodding his head at you, mouthing ‘yes’ over and over, almost jumping on you in excitement. You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of what was going on, but you made it this far, might as well see it out. At least, that was your excuse. In reality, you just found it incredibly hot that she told you instead of asked you.

“Sure,” you answered. “How will I know who you are?”

“I’ll send you a picture.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Could you do me a quick favor and please scratch out the number.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” you replied.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up, leaving you and Mint staring at each other.

“Did that really just happen?” Mint broke the silence first.

“I’m still not convinced this is real,” you shook your head when suddenly your phone vibrated, the message leaving you in shock once again. “Holy shit, yeah this definitely isn’t real.”

“Let’s see,” Mint grabbed your phone and his jaw immediately hit the floor. “Yeah there’s no fucking way. They’re harvesting organs for sure.”

“I’m still going.”

“True, who needs two kidneys anyway,” Mint laughed, giving you back your phone.

“Fuck it, this girl can have both if she wants them.”

—

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kazuha hung up her phone and turned to her roommate.

“Oh my fucking God about time!” Chaewon squealed. “Where the heck is Sakura, I need to tell her.”

“I’m not actually doing this am I?” Kazuha whined as Chaewon frantically tapped her phone screen.

“She got a call! Tomorrow morning! Yes! I know!” Chaewon screamed into the phone. “Okay! I’ll see you soon!”

“Chaewon!” Kazuha started hitting Chaewon’s arm. “I don’t want to!”

“It’s going to be so fun!” Chaewon grabbed Kazuha into a hug to stop her barrage of attacks. “I can’t wait to see him, what if he’s really hot?”

“I hope he is,” Kazuha sighed, falling face-first onto the bed.

“He will be, I can tell by his voice,” Chaewon jumped onto the bed with her. “So! What are you going to wear? Pick something that shows midriff, trust me.”

“I’m never making a bet with you two again.”

—

“Sorry I’m late.”

“You’re not late,” the girl looked up at you with a bit of a deer-in-headlights expression.

“I know, but it looks like you’ve been waiting. Therefore, I’m late,” you smiled warmly at her, gave her your name, and held out your hand.

“I’m Kazuha,” she shook your hand with firm but incredibly delicate fingers, holding on for a bit too long to be considered a ‘normal’ handshake. “Sorry, I would have waited before ordering, but I got kinda nervous.”

“No worries!” you sat down across from her. “I know it’s not exactly this simple, but don’t be nervous.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha laughed. “Just don’t be, right?”

“Is it working?” you asked while pulling your chair over so that you were sitting next to her instead of across from her.

“Umm,” Kazuha began blushing, her eyes frantically scanning you up and down as you moved right next to her. She ended up completely ignoring your question, biting her lower lip subconsciously as she picked up her mug and put it back down without even taking a sip. “Were you going to get a drink? I can come with you to the counter if-”

“No, I’m okay,” you gently placed your arm on the backrest of her chair.

Her eyes darted to your arm before going right back to you, that adorable deer-in-headlights expression returning with a vengeance.

“Here, we can share,” she picked up the mug and held it out for you to take, spilling a little on her own fingers in the process. “Oops!”

“Sure,” you ignored the error in an attempt to save her some embarrassment, and as you accepted the mug from her hand, you discreetly gave her a tissue. “Oh wow, it’s sweet.”

“Do you not like it?” she asked, looking up at you with an aura of innocent purity, as if your enjoyment of her coffee actually mattered.

“I love it,” you answered warmly, taking another sip. “What is it?”

With pure excitement, she started to explain her order, speaking too quickly to maintain any sort of semblance of coherency. The way she spoke about one pump this, one pump that, and not that a single word connected with you - in one ear out the other - was just too cute to handle. You were significantly more drawn to her appearance, focusing in particular on her expressiveness.

Her antics while she spoke were making you melt, you didn’t even bother hiding the smile on your face as you nodded along, pretending to care about whatever she was saying. She really was stunning, you could probably stare at her pretty face all day and never tire. Her beautiful wavy brown hair perfectly framing her cute features. The picture she sent definitely did not do her beauty justice. Have you mentioned that she was beautiful?

“Have you?” she waited expectantly for you to respond.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, still mostly lost in her beauty.

She cocked an eyebrow at you before she burst out laughing.

“You haven’t been listening, have you?”

“Alright, you caught me,” you chuckled. “I got lost in your eyes for a second.”

“Oh,” she blinked rapidly a couple times before looking down at the mug in her hands. “You shouldn’t just make up stuff like that,” she added softly.

“I’m not making it up,” you reached forward and very gently pressed up on her chin so that she was looking at you again. “You have beautiful eyes.”

“Thank you,” she stammered, trying desperately to look anywhere but into your eyes, before suddenly changing the topic. “So, what about you, tell me something. Why would you call a random number like that?”

“I can’t say it’s something I do often,” you chuckled. “Although, maybe I should.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because apparently it can lead me to a coffee date with a beautiful girl.”

“You’re not even drinking coffee,” Kazuha giggled as she took another sip. “Does this really count as a coffee date?”

“I thought you said we could share.”

“We can share if you can tell me what my order is,” Kazuha teased, knowing you weren’t listening.

“Easy, two pumps of hazelnut-”

“I hate hazelnut,” Kazuha interrupted you with another giggle.

“No you don’t.”

“Wow,” she smirked, pretending to be impressed. “Were you actually listening?”

“Nah, lucky guess,” you replied with a smirk of your own.

“You’re so dumb,” Kazuha laughed, hitting your arm playfully. “You should have just ran with it.”

“You’re the one who said not to make up stuff,” you replied defensively.

“I meant about compliments.”

“Then it’s a good thing I haven’t.”

She began blushing again, tapping the side of her mug nervously before looking up at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “I guess you’ll just have to keep me honest on our next date.”

“Next date?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Confident, are we?”

“Should I not be?”

“Then where’s the next date,” Kazuha played along. “I chose this one, now it’s your turn.”

“Well, have you tried this thing called ‘dinner’ before? I heard it’s best with one other person at 7:00 p.m. tonight.”

“Are you asking me out to dinner?”

“What gave you that idea?” you leaned back in your chair, acting surprised for a brief moment before smiling at her. “I would have suggested a painting class or something, but it might be a bit too last minute to book something like that.”

“Then I guess we’ll have to settle for dinner tonight,” Kazuha smiled alluringly.

“I’ll call and make a reservation,” you smiled back. “Speaking of calling, want to explain that one to me?”

“I’m just going to be extremely transparent,” Kazuha put her mug down. “I lost a bet, the punishment was that I had to go on a date with the first person who called.”

“I figured it was something along those lines,” you chuckled softly. “Hopefully, I made it at least somewhat worth your time? Considering you already contractually agreed to go on another one with me, I’d say it’s going well.”

“Contractually agreed?” Kazuha laughed, tilting her head back. “Is that how this works?”

“Exactly,” you replied. “I took an intro to political sciences course in freshman year, I’d know.”

“And when was freshman year for you?”

“Last year,” you answered. “You?”

“Last year as well. How have we not taken any classes together if we’re both sophomores?”

“I assume we’re in different majors.”

“I’d bet that’s a safe assumption,” she giggled. “If you’re not in poli-sci, what are you in?”

“Wait, who said I’m not?”

“You obviously took the intro to political sciences course for fun,” Kazuha answered. “I’ve seen the poli-sci kids at this school, none of them are so…” she paused for a second while her eyes fixated on your forearms. “Toned.”

“Excuse me? You’re one to talk,” your eyes quickly darted down to the subtle midriff she was showing. “Having abs even while sitting means you’re also far too toned for whatever your major is.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she covered her mouth to stifle her giggles. “What if I’m in something like kinesiology? They’re usually fit.”

“Fuck, beautiful and smart? That’s just not fair,” you mumbled, earning you another embarrassed giggle from Kazuha. “How long before I can hire you as my personal trainer?”

“I didn’t say I’m a kin major, I was just suggesting it.”

“Can I still hire you as my personal trainer?”

The conversation paused for a bit while Kazuha laughed, and in turn made you laugh with how contagious it was. She spoke next, after finally composing herself, in a much softer tone.

“To answer your question, I’ve actually been really enjoying this,” Kazuha smiled back before biting her lower lip again. “There’s a bit more to the punishment, though.”

“Oh?” you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m supposed to actually-” she paused to lean closer to you for a second before leaning back again. “Actually, nevermind.”

“Nah, you can’t tease me like that. What is it?” you implored.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated after her.

“Well, part of the punishment…” she trailed off again. “I can’t do it.”

“Hey, don’t stress it,” you leaned back. “We can talk about something else.”

“Fuck it,” she sighed, leaning forward. You moved closer until she was right against your ear. “I’m also supposed to blow you.”

“Wow,” you leaned back again and put your hands on your head. “That’s… a bit intense.”

“You said you wouldn’t judge!”

“I’m not judging.”

There was a long, silent pause, where numerous unholy thoughts flooded through your mind. Before you could even make any sense of anything though, Kazuha spoke up again.

“Yeah,” Kazuha was now starting to get really embarrassed. “Sorry, that was… I didn’t know how else… I don’t think I was supposed to actually tell you that part. This whole thing was probably super inappropriate, I’m sorry for bringing that part up, that was stupid. I feel like I just ruined this-”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off, placing your hand gently on top of hers to calm her down.

There was another pause in the conversation. During it, you simply admired Kazuha’s beautiful features some more while she absentmindedly stirred her coffee. She couldn’t find the courage to look up at you. She was clearly waiting for the conversation to continue, but she was too shy to be the one to speak next. You had to be the one to break the pause.

“I’m not going to make you do that.”

Her head snapped up and she looked at you with eyes filled to the brim with surprise. She really was quite beautiful - an aura of pureness surrounded her, almost making her glow in a way.

“I’m serious,” Kazuha announced with this intense, newfound conviction. “I’ll do it.”

“And I’m serious when I say I’m not going to make you do it,” you repeated firmly. “That’s an awful punishment, and there’s no way I’d force that upon you.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but I really have to do this. I can’t explain,” Kazuha sighed.

“Then just tell them you did, I’ll back your story up if needed,” you replied casually.

“They’d know I’m lying,” Kazuha suddenly lowered her tone. “They’re actually watching this date right now.”

“Are they?”

“Please don’t look around,” Kazuha panicked. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part either.”

“I’m not stupid,” you laughed. “Look, how about the two of us sneak off to the bathroom for like five, actually ten, minutes. We can keep chatting or just stand there in silence, how’s that sound?”

“Would you actually do that for me?” Kazuha looked at you with that same shocked and pure expression that you were starting to fall in love with.

“Yeah of course, I’m going to look around as if you just offered to blow me,” you replied while standing up and over-exaggerating the motions of looking around the cafe before holding your hand for Kazuha to take. “Now we look suspicious as fuck, come on.”

Kazuha giggled at your foolishness before grabbing your hand and following you to the bathroom.

—

“Thank fuck it’s clean,” you laughed as you closed the door behind you. “Bit cramped for two people, but at least it smells nice.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Wait,” you leaned over her shoulder into her neck. “Oh, that nice smell is just you.”

“Stop,” Kazuha whined, stretching the word. The mirror showed her eyes rolling and her lips smiling.

“Still haven’t lied by the way.”

“Well, thank you,” Kazuha awkwardly giggled as her backside lightly touched your crotch. “Oops!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” Kazuha interrupted. “It’s a small bathroom. I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“Don’t need to thank me, this ended up being a fun adventure. I got to grab coffee with such a lovely girl.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Kazuha smiled at you in the mirror. “Do your dates usually end up like this?”

“If I had a nickel for every time I found myself in this situation, I’d have…” you pretended to count for dramatic effect. “Exactly one nickel!”

“You’re so silly,” Kazuha giggled, maneuvering around so that she was face to face with you. “Alright, I can’t lie, this is a tiny bit awkward.”

“Want me to face the door?” you laughed.

“No don’t,” Kazuha giggled, covering her mouth. “That would be so weird.”

“Well, I’m gonna ask for at least ten or fifteen minutes in here, I got a reputation to keep.”

“What about my reputation?”

“Good point,” you tapped your chin. “Are you known for being good?”

“Want to find out?”

“Kazuha,” it was your turn to feel warmth in your cheeks. “You might be one of, if not the, prettiest girls at this entire school. I really do want to take you on a date, I really do want to get to know you properly.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have made that joke,” Kazuha stuttered, avoiding your gaze.

“The joke was fine,” you leaned closer to her face. “I just really want to do this properly with you.”

“I do, too,” Kazuha looked into your eyes without pulling her face away, leaving her lips slightly parted.

Everything, other than the little frogs jumping around in your gut, slowed down. It was truly quite peculiar how the world worked. One moment you’re squeezed in a tiny bathroom fit for one, then one moment later it felt like it was taking hours to reach Kazuha’s lips. Were you even moving at this point? Surely by now you would have made contact. You shouldn’t have closed your eyes so early, but it just felt right. How much longer? Maybe you could open them back up, but would that ruin the moment? Then it hit you.

Strawberry.

Who even wears strawberry lip gloss? Is that a common flavor? Does she always wear strawberry? Why did it taste so good? Why did it feel so good? Have you been kissing her for too long now? Shit. Maybe you’re the one that shook her hand too long earlier, maybe it wasn’t her fault. No, that was definitely her not letting go. Speaking of letting go, are you supposed to stop kissing her now? When did your hands end up framing her face, cupping her cheeks? When did her hand end up on the back of your neck? Where’s the other one? Oh, it’s on your hip, when did it get there?

“Wow.”

“That-”

“Felt right,” Kazuha finished your thought.

“Yeah,” you agreed, suddenly noticing just how tangible the tension was between the two of you as you let go of her face and brought your hands to her hips. “Were your cheeks always this pink?”

“Are they?” Kazuha giggled, turning her face in embarrassment to try looking into the mirror.

“Don’t,” you gently turned her face with one finger until she was looking at you again. “You’re so pretty.”

“Th-Thank you,” she stuttered, physically fighting the urge to look away and hide herself.

“Can I-”

She didn’t even let the words finish leaving your lips before lunging forward and kissing you again. The force pushed your back into the door, leaving a small bruise where the doorknob hit your body that you wouldn’t even notice until later tonight. While strawberries attacked your taste buds again, you began pushing back, slowly moving forward until Kazuha’s soft body began squishing your hand into the porcelain sink.

“I think I could do this all day,” you gasped as both of you began panting for air. “But I think we’ve probably convinced your friends by now. Should we head back?”

“Wait, not yet,” Kazuha panted, licking her lips. “Can you help me get a picture?”

“A picture?”

“To prove that I… you know.”

“You mean, like, with my thing out?”

“In my mouth,” she began blushing. “Just for a second.”

“Umm.”

Was this real life? You weren’t sure anymore.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Kazuha stammered. “Forget it, dumb idea, they’ll just have to believe me.”

“I can,” you wrapped your arms around her and embraced her softly. “But are you comfortable doing this?”

“I am,” her voice was muffled by your shoulder.

She pulled back, smiling at you for a second before leaning forward for another kiss. This one was softer than the previous two, her lips barely brushed against yours, her tongue barely touched you.

“Ready?” you breathed into her mouth.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” Kazuha stared at you tenderly. “You really don’t have to.”

“It’s really no big deal,” you rubbed her arm gently before unbuckling your pants.

“Just umm, tell me when you’re… you know,” Kazuha stuttered as she turned away from you.

It was incredibly adorable the way she stood there, trying to avoid looking at you in the mirror. You lowered your pants down to your knees and began slowly stroking yourself. It definitely felt a little bit odd, but you just reminded yourself that you were doing this for her sake.

“Excuse me,” you reached your arm around her body and turned the sink on, wetting your fingers. “Let’s make it look even more believable.”

Kazuha furrowed her brows at you in the mirror, confused by what you meant.

“I assume the inside of your mouth isn’t completely dry?”

“Oh,” she finally understood what you were doing.

“Alright, I’m ready if you are.”

Kazuha turned around and kept her eyes on yours, seemingly physically incapable of looking down.

“You’re probably going to have to see my thing at some point if you want this picture,” you tried to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry, you have my permission.”

She giggled, the rosy tint returning to her cheeks in full force, before looking down at your wet cock. As soon as she looked down, her body froze again and she looked back up at you, bringing that deer-in-headlights look that you were growing so accustomed to now by now back.

“It’s big.”

“Hey, we don’t have to actually do this,” you said gently, moving her hair out of her face for her.

“No,” Kazuha replied softly before sitting down on the toilet cover. “Sorry, I just, I didn’t, yeah, I’m ready.”

Kazuha pulled out her phone and flipped her camera to selfie mode, holding it up to the side, looking for the proper angle. Once satisfied, she turned her head to you, nodded once before opening her mouth wide and staring at you.

This was your cue, and you took one step forward before gently placing your tip into her mouth. You inhaled sharply as her lips immediately tightened around your tip, her tongue resting against your hole. Despite your cock already being stiff, as soon as it entered her mouth you could feel the blood rushing into your cock, swelling it up.

Kazuha held her phone up and took a few selfies at various angles. It was wild, such a beautiful girl with your cock in her mouth in such an erotically casual way. She had her lips pouted, almost like she was kissing your tip. It didn’t really make much sense, but it was incredibly hot - she was incredibly hot. Before you knew it, Kazuha released your cock with a little pop and wiped her lips.

“Do you think you could like, push against the inside of my cheek,” Kazuha asked innocently before the realization of what she just said hit her and her face turned bright pink in embarrassment. “Sorry, that’s a crazy thing to say.”

“Of course I can,” you ignored her embarrassment and pushed your cock in front of her mouth again.

Almost reflexively, she parted her lips wide and let your cock slide back into her cozy mouth. Just as she asked, you pressed your cock against her inner cheek as she took more selfies. Your cock was exploring every crevice of her mouth, pressing and shoving against her cheek. You found, somehow, both of your hands on her head, guiding it while your cock roamed freely.

It seems that your ability to see things had completely vanished, since you failed to even notice that Kazuha had put her phone away. She was just sucking your cock; she was no longer snapping pictures. When you finally realized what was happening, you hurriedly released her head while attempting to ignore how wonderful her mouth felt.

The real shocker was that Kazuha continued to move her head back and forth along your shaft even after you released your grip. Her lips were caressing your length as she closed her eyes, totally engrossed in the moment. You were certain that her mouth was designed to suck your cock since it was now entirely her decision to blow you, and it was impossible to deny how fucking great her mouth felt.

“Kazuha,” you gently moaned, carefully pulling your hips back. “I think you got enough pictures.”

“Does it not feel good?”

Her voice felt like a dagger in your heart. She sounded disappointed.

“Hey,” you crouched down so that you were level with her and leaned forward for a quick kiss. “You’re fucking amazing, but I told you I wanted to do this properly. This feels… I don’t know how to explain it…”

“It feels forced,” Kazuha smiled understandingly at you. “I promise you it’s not, I know I don’t have to do this. I want to do this.”

“Kazuha-”

“Zuha. My friends call me Zuha.”

“Oh,” you smiled softly. “Zuha, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered, standing up from the toilet and maneuvering you around before pushing you down to sit. “Now close your eyes, and let me prove to you that I’m good at this.”

Fuck that was hot. You obeyed her request, closing your eyes as those delicate fingers of hers gave your cock a couple of pumps. Not being able to watch truly was a tragedy, but you felt her tongue with details you never could have imagined possible as soon as she pressed it against your tip.

She slipped your cock into her mouth again, bringing back that gentle warmth, swirling her tongue around the tip a couple of times before she began using her lips to stroke you. Back and forth her lips went, your tip prodding her tongue each time she went down your shaft, while her hand firmly gripped the bottom half of your shaft. A soft moan escaped your lips, one that told Kazuha it was working - but she already knew that. The girl definitely knew how to suck cock. Even without seeing that beautiful face of hers, you were already nearing your climax.

Somehow, she also felt it coming. Or, just by coincidence, she decided to start pumping your cock. Her hand and her mouth worked in tandem, stimulating your entire shaft. Up and down, a soft slurp echoing in the small bathroom each time her mouth moved. She slowed down for just a second, leaving you spewing agonizing moans into her ears, before speeding back up.

“Zuha,” you groaned, squirming on the seat, lifting your hips up into the air. “I’m…”

That was all the warning she got, because that was all the warning you could muster. Whether or not she was ready, the next thirty seconds of her life were going to be taken over by your cum shooting into her mouth. Your eyes shot open as the first gush launched against the roof of her mouth, just in time for you to see her visibly flinch.

She looked up at you, locking eyes, and held her mouth steady. Even as the next few spurts flew out of your cock, she never flinched again. You could see your cock throbbing, each pulse shooting more cum into her mouth, but she held steady, not even blinking, staring at you with those beautiful eyes.

With one hand, you pushed her hair out of her face and cupped her cheek tenderly, using your thumb to wipe the little glob of cum that spilled out of the corner of her lips. As your cock finally began to relax, Kazuha slowly pulled back. Inch by inch, she released your cock, making sure to keep her lips taut until they reached your tip.

She gathered all the cum in her mouth and struggled to take out her phone. When she finally got it, she snapped a selfie with your cum all on her tongue. Once she was content with the picture, she bent over and spit it all out, holding her hair to prevent it from going into the sink.

“Sorry, there was just too much,” she apologized, looking back up at you. “I swear I usually swallow.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled reassuringly at her.

Kazuha smiled back before she bent down over your cock again.

“Holy fuck,” you gasped, shuddering as Kazuha gave your cock a lick from the base to the tip.

She pursed her lips around your tip, prodding your frenulum a couple times with her tongue, coaxing out a little glob of cum. Without even lifting her mouth, she swallowed it. After a few more licks, making sure you had no more cum to drain, she released your cock with a little pop.

“So,” she stood back up proudly. “You tell me, how was it?”

“Fucking amazing,” you stood up in front of her and grabbed her face with both hands.

This next kiss went on for a few minutes, or perhaps longer. It would have been even longer if it wasn’t for the aggressive knock on the door.

“Hello? There’s only one bathroom here!”

Both of you began giggling while staring at each other.

“We’re fucked,” Kazuha whispered.

“It’s your fault,” you whispered back. “Fuck it though, we’re already screwed, might as well keep going.”

So you did just that, and the two of you kissed again until a staff member came by and berated the two of you, kicking you out of the cafe and telling you to never come back.

“Worth it,” you laughed as the two of you walked out into the warm morning afternoon.

“Worth it,” she repeated, clutching your arm with both of hers and smiling. “I can’t believe it’s almost noon already. Lunch?”

“That sounds perfect.”

---

A/N:

Inspired by a prompt given to me by @mintwithchoco!

So, turns out Roommates is becoming a whole universe. I'll explain more in my Masterlist at some point, but my goal is to write a collection of fics from this universe that are all following the same OC. They're going to be readable completely independently of each other, but there will be a lot of references and foreshadowing since I've actually already plotted out like 10 fics, so if an idol is mentioned in a fic, they're probably getting their own fic at some point.

This particular one will probably be split into two parts, just so I can avoid making it too long. Hope you guys enjoy this one, I've been on a crazy Kazuha high lately and just had to write her.

Feel free to let me know what you think about this idea. I won't be releasing fics in chronological order either. This takes place in the OC's sophomore year while the Eunbi fic took place in the OC's senior year. I'm pretty committed to this now with how much worldbuilding and theorizing I've put into this, but I still love hearing feedback!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #kazuha #le sserafim

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malavera · 1 month

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Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!

summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking

taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉

The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.

But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.

Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.

But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.

Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,

“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”

Fun right?

And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.

“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.

Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.

Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”

“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.

It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.

Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.

But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.

As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.

"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.

"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.

Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.

But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.

You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.

Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.

Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”

Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.

In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.

Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.

Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.

Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.

Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.

He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.

But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.

The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.

Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.

Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.

After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.

As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.

Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.

You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.

The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.

“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.

You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.

You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.

Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.

“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.

Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.

“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.

“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”

With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.

You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.

“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"

Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"

You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."

Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.

You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.

You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.

"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."

Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.

Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.

You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.

"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.

"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.

"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.

"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.

Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.

You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.

"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! if you love my writing feel free to check my other works here

support me by buying me a coffee! 🤍

#Malavera #Logan and peach #Logan howlett smut #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine smut #logan howlett x femalereader #logan howlett x you #logan x reader #logan howlett x reader #logan james howlett #james howlett #xmen wolverine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman smut

1K notes · View notes

algae-tm · 4 months

Text

MATCH MY FREAK

Max Verstappen x Heiress! reader

You have a reputation for being high maintenance, Max thinks you’re perfect (oneshot)

Author’s Note: if you can’t tell I have major writers block on my kill bill series… this is why you plan folks! I’ve kinda written myself into a corner. However, I love doing these lil oneshots so here’s another :)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

MESSAGES

yourusername just posted on instagram

liked by lewishamilton, maxverstappen1, and 5,234,432 others

yourusername : mom, i am a rich man

view all comments

user1 : a rich man yet all your exes say you bleed them dry

— user3 : at that point it’s a skill issue… if they knew they couldn’t keep up they shouldn’t have started dating her

— user1 : you females will defend each other no matter how in the wrong you are. — user3 : not fighting with a dude who calls women females

—user1 : lmao cause you know you’re wrong

user5 : I think oomf on twitter was right, she likes lavish things so she buys them and the men in her life are threatened.

— maxverstappen1 : couldn’t be me I’m very secure in my masculinity!

— user5 : MAX VERSTAPPEN!!!!??????

— user6 : what is bro doing here

— user8 : y/n’s freshly single and brother decides to shoot his shot lmao 🤣🤣

— user1 : brother run away whilst you can she’ll only drain your energy and your bank account.

— maxverstappen1 : me and my bank account can handle it

carlossainz55 : bro @maxverstappen1 thank you for lending me that 5 million euros after I lost my job! — maxverstappen1 : the least I can do brother!

landonorris : Max Verstappen let me win the Miami gp! — maxverstappen1 : No bro it was all you!

georgerussell63 : hey dude @maxverstappen1 when do you want me to return that lambo you lent me?

— maxverstappen1 : of course you can just keep it!

charles_leclerc : max verstappen saved my mother and my dog from my burning yacht, then gave me his spare yacht cause he felt bad!

— maxverstappen1 : no worries say hi to pascale and Leo for me!

danielricciardo : Max Verstappen is the most passionate lover I’ve ever had!

— maxverstappen1 : bro what? — maxverstappen1 : this is not true!

— user6 : lmao Dan I don’t think you did this correctly…

—danielricciardo : I only speak the truth 🤭

maxverstappen1: oh what a coincidence I am also a rich man, we should talk about our similarities over dinner

lewishamilton : catch flights not feelings

— yourusername : so right lew 🖤

MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and 4,324,367 others

yourusername : is somebody gonna match my freak?

view all comments

user23 : isn’t the saying like luxury whispers or something?

— yourusername : why should I whisper? My people deserve to be luxurious loudly!

lewishamilton : I actually have the perfect person to ‘match your freak’ he’s equally as weird as you

— yourusername : 🤨🤨🤨 I’m all ears

— maxverstappen1 : me me me!! He’s talking about me

MESSAGES

A YEAR LATER • INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 8,234,432 others

maxverstappen1 : I MATCHED HER FREAK!!

view all comments

yourusername : yeah you did baby!!

danielricciardo : that should be me 😔😔

— yourusername : stop trying to steal my man!

— danielricciardo : he was mine first!!

— user42 : this dynamic is everything

user44 : max actually bagged a baddie??

— user56 : they’re gunna divorce in like 2 years once he realises she’s too high maintenance…

— maxverstappen1 : NUH UH

lewishamilton : for the role I played any children you have should be named Lewis…

— maxverstappen1 : you extorted me!

— lewishamilton : I helped you get the girl!

— yourusername : yeah max, was I not worth the extortion??

— maxverstappen1 : what no, of course you were! I’d be extorted 1 million times for you!

— user65 : wow they really do match each others freak…

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TAGLIST

@forevercaffeinated-lee

@callsignwidow

@a-beaverhausen

@emryb

@c0deincrazy

@dontworryaboutitokie

@c-losur3

@chuxk-lerclerk

@silkenthusiasts

@ietss

@sp1rl

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x black!reader #max verstappen smau #f1 smau #f1 fic #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #x reader #fem reader #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #f1 fanfic #max verstappen imagine

2K notes · View notes

cobrakaisb · 5 months

Text

come one, come all

summary: percy jackson has finally arrived at camp half-blood, so why is he so shocked to see that people have genuine relationships here? aka, the four times percy thought you were dating luke, and the one time he actually asked.

word count: 3.2k

featuring: percy pov!!, 4+1, vaping (again), sassy man apocalypse in the form of luke castellan, reader straight up not giving a fuck, percabeth crumbs (but you gotta squint)

author's note: i am so sorry for the delay with this one!! i was studying for finals, but now that i'm home from college for the summer, hopefully the updates will be more frequent 🤞

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

hermes cabin, day one, early afternoon

“this is the hermes cabin, home to both his children and the unclaimed,” chiron explains, walking up to the very loud and very rambunctious building.

percy peers inside, and he’s immediately filled with dread. there’s barely enough room in the cabin for the people that actually live there, let alone him. why couldn’t his father claim him already? if anything, percy thought losing his mother would have been enough; clearly it wasn’t. his dread only intensifies, however, when chiron starts clapping his hands, calling the attention of all the campers.

“woah wait a minute,” percy mumbles, but it’s too late.

“this is percy jackson, i trust you will see to whatever he needs,” chiron announces.

it takes the campers approximately two seconds to go back to whatever they were doing beforehand. some campers’ eyes linger a little bit longer on him, but for the most part, they’re all indifferent to his presence. finding a spot proves to be difficult, as every nook and cranny is inhabited.

“you can sleep over there,” a girl says, annoyed.

“thanks,” percy mumbles, but it falls on deaf ears.

the spot isn’t half bad, but it isn’t great either. he’s stuck in between two sets of bunk beds, on a sleeping bag. a sleeping bag. one would think the gods could splurge a little for an air mattress, but percy guesses they must be selfish, at least based on the signs of this cabin: overrun, overfilled, and underdeveloped. he’s unpacking his backpack, the last remnants of his life before his mom explained his paternal lineage, when the whispers start.

“that’s the kid. i think he’s the one that killed the minotaur,” someone whispers, or at least they try to, but percy hears the whole thing.

he turns around, and comes face to face with a group of older campers, all boys. they’ve clearly been here a while (in the hermes cabin, or at camp, percy isn’t sure) based solely on the fact that they’re so comfortable in this environment. a tall, curly black-haired boy steps forward, so percy stands up. he tries to size up the older boy, but if it comes to a fight, he doesn’t think he’ll win.

“look, if you guys want to start something, can you just…do it tomorrow?” he asks.

the older boy doesn’t say anything. instead, he just takes a moment to look at percy, up and down. percy’s breath catches in his throat when he catches sight of the long scar running from the corner of his right eye to his jaw. he’s intimidating, to say the least.

“i’m..” the boy starts to say, but he’s cut off by the sound of loud laughter.

percy turns to face the door, following the older boy’s lead, and sees two girls walk into the cabin. they’re both in workout gear, clearly just coming from a training session, but only one of them moves to drop her stuff on a bed — a bottom bunk in the left hand corner — and the other walks right up to the guy in front of him.

percy wants to warn her, tell her that she shouldn’t mess with this kid. but the grumpy guy smiles at her, completely forgetting about percy.

“busy day?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

“something like that,” the boy mumbles, throwing a sideways glance in percy’s direction.

“oh i see,” she answers slowly, and now both of their eyes are on him.

“luke treating you okay?” she asks.

percy gulps, unsure how to answer her. girls don’t really talk to him, but there’s a first time for everything, he understands that especially well now.

“he literally just got here,” luke says, shoving your shoulder.

you smile at the older boy, and there’s something more behind that stare, but percy can’t really figure out what.

“if he steps out of line, you let me know,” she instructs, jabbing her thumb in luke’s direction.

percy nods, “yeah sure.”

she smiles at him, before walking towards the exit of the cabin. as she’s at the threshold between the inside and the outdoors, she turns around with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“meet me later?” she asks.

“i’ll be there,” luke answers.

she nods, satisfied, and leaves. percy watches luke, who continues to watch her. his eyebrows furrow. maybe he just doesn’t understand teenagers?

hermes cabin, day two, morning

percy’s startled awake. the deep, guttural voice from his dream still haunting him. the darkness from the nightmare is looming over him like a dark cloud. his gasps and heavy breathing draw the attention of luke and his friends, the former leaving his bottom bunk to walk over to percy’s sleeping bag.

“you okay?” luke asks.

percy wonders if he’s genuinely concerned. “super,” he replies.

“we all get them, y’know. deep, intense nightmares. comes with being a demigod,” luke explains, watching percy struggle to get up from his bed.

“so does adhd and dyslexia. they’re your battle instincts talking. everything that’s made you different, an outcast, is normal here,” luke continues to explain, now standing toe to toe with percy.

there’s silence between the two. percy wants to ask him about his godly parent. it’s been weighing on him since he spoke with luke briefly yesterday. for some reason, however, he feels like the question is out of line, too personal for someone he just met.

yet, he can’t help himself: “so are you also…do you not know…are you…”

“am i unclaimed? no, hermes is my father, but that doesn’t matter. we’re all family here,” luke replies, giving percy’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“and the girl from last night…is she…?” percy asks.

luke chuckles at his uncertainty, clearly finding humor in his embarrassing situation. “no. she knows who her mother is. you should ask her about it.”

percy nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. he feels angry all of a sudden looking around the hermes cabin. it’s filled to the brim with campers, some who know who their parents are, and others who don’t. he doesn’t think anyone should have to live like this; it’s not fair.

“how can the gods just bring us here and ignore us? how is that fair?” percy asks.

luke shakes his head, “spend all your time trying to figure out why the gods do what they do and you’ll go crazy. besides, you haven’t even experienced the best thing that camp has to offer.”

“what’s that?” percy asks.

“glory.”

percy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. he vaguely remembers hearing mr. bruner, or chiron, talk about glory in class, but he can’t pinpoint the exact memory. the way luke talks about it, however, makes percy think that it must be important. there has to be some reason why everyone is fighting for glory, why they deal with all the dangers of being a demigod.

“demigods used to fight for glory. they called it kleos. it attaches meaning to your name, making you bigger, scarier, and more important,” luke explains, leading percy outside of the hermes cabin, along with a handful of his friends.

“it puts respect on your name,” luke’s friend, chris barges in.

percy’s smiles at that. he likes the sound of glory, especially when some girl shoulders past him, pushing his body right into luke’s. percy stumbles, turning to face the back of the girl. he wasn’t going to deal with this bullying crap at summer camp of all places.

“hey,” he shouts, getting her attention.

she turns around, immediately shoving him into the ground. percy gasps, staring up at her in shock, but before she can get a word in, the girl from last night is standing in front of him.

“knock it off clarisse. it’s like his first day,” luke mumbles.

the girl from last night helps him up, and he smiles at her in thanks. she nods, giving him a once over, ensuring that he’s okay before she turns back to clarisse. it’s like a switch flipped inside her. those same eyes, the ones showing kindness towards him just a mere second ago, are now filled with cold, hard, anger.

clarisse says something to taunt him, but the girl just shakes her head, crossing her arms against her chest.

“jealous that it wasn’t you?” she taunts, stepping into clarisse’s personal space.

“no,” clarisse snaps, facing the other girl head on.

“really? cause it sounds like you wish you were standing in his shoes right now. maybe then daddy would give you a little bit of attention, huh?” she replies.

luke whispers her name in a seething tone, hand pulling on her shoulder to move her away from clarisse. however, she jerks out of his grip, continuing to stare head on at the curly haired girl with a satisfied smirk playing at her lips.

“you better watch your back,” clarisse snaps, looking at percy once again before storming off.

“and you better watch yours,” the girl, who’s still standing in front of percy protectively answers.

clarisse doesn’t respond, and so luke takes the time to reprimand you. his voice is soft, and percy can barely hear, let alone register, the words coming out of his mouth. you roll your eyes at whatever he’s saying, barely paying attention. instead, percy notices that your eyes aren’t leaving luke’s lips, and he’s again left wondering what’s going on between the two of you.

“but if i wasn’t here, who was gonna play hero?” you ask, a soft pout on your lips.

percy can tell you’re teasing luke, trying to get a rise out of him, but the older boy just shakes his head in response. percy watches as your finger reaches under his bright orange shirt, looping through one of the belt loops of his cargoes. luke leans down slightly, and percy thinks he might kiss you, but you step away from him in a fit of giggles.

“i’ll see you later, counselor luke,” you tease, walking backwards so everyone can see the teasing smile on your face.

percy makes a mental note not to get on your bad side.

dining pavilion, day two, evening

“is there a greek god of disappointment, maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” percy grumbles, taking a seat at the table across from luke and chris.

after a long day of training, with little to no rewards, percy felt utterly defeated. there was some good that came out of the day’s events, however, as he realized his lack of coordination did not make him a strong candidate for the apollo cabin. similarly, setting fire to the already burning forges had luke and chris ruling out hephaestus. regardless, he just wanted his dad to recognize him. after a life of torment and the loss of his mom, the one person who loved him, he could use the validation.

luke opens his mouth, ready to answer his previous question, but chris beats him to it.

“oizys…but she’s a goddess and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s failure,” chris mumbles, pushing around the salad on his plate.

“oh my gods chris, don’t scare the kid,” you shout, shoving his shoulder as you take a seat next to percy.

another girl follows behind you, taking the seat on the other side of percy. he feels himself going rigid, why are these two older girls sitting by his side? he feels nervous all of a sudden, and wonders if this is normal. he looks nervously to luke, who seems to be the only one capable of providing actual guidance in these types of situations.

luke doesn’t say anything, instead he’s too busy looking at you.

“having daddy issues?” the girl on his right, who’s not you, asks.

“um i guess,” percy answers, but he’s not confident in his words at all.

the girl chuckles at him, a hand coming up to ruffle his blonde hair, and percy watches as her eyes twinkle with something akin to childish mischief.

“maybe you’re her step-brother,” she says, gesturing towards you with a tip of her chin.

“are you a child of aphrodite?” percy asks, because maybe this nice girl is referring to ares as his father.

you stop chewing your dinner, shock crossing your features. the other three teens all burst into laughter, and percy doesn’t understand what’s wrong with his question. you’re pretty enough, and you seem to possess a tiny bit of mean girl energy (cause only regina george would have demolished clarisse like that). therefore, the logical conclusion is that you’re related to aphrodite. besides, aren’t ares and aphrodite secretly dating? so he’d be your step-brother?

“what?” he asks, looking around.

“aphrodite is not my mother,” you answer, white-knuckling the fork.

“oh,” he says, “so who is?”

percy watches as your jaw clenches, and you flash a dangerous look in luke’s direction. luke lifts his hands up in a state of defense, as if to say that he didn’t put percy up to this. you, however, don’t seem to believe him as you take one of the green grapes on your plate and chuck it at him. luke catches the grape in his mouth, chewing slowly with a smirk on his face.

“almost sweetheart,” he taunts.

you scoff before getting up from the table, with your plate, and walking towards the firepit in the middle of the pavilion. on your way over, you stick your fingers through luke’s curls, and shove his face down towards his mashed potatoes.

“did i do something wrong?” he asks, looking at the remaining girl to his right.

“nah, she’s always like that,” she answers.

“yeah,” chris mumbles, “if anyone knows it’s katrina.”

they jump into their own conversation and percy watches as you drop your entire dinner into the fire pit. the flames turn a deep purple and you nod in satisfaction before walking off towards the cabins.

he can’t figure out who likes the color purple, but wonders if it had anything to do with luke. however, he knows not to ask.

hermes cabin, day two, night

percy was supposed to be asleep twenty minutes ago, at least that’s when luke called for lights out and everyone crawled into bed. but, he really needs to use the bathroom. poor planning on his part, not going before bed time, but he knows he’ll never make it until morning. so, he gets up as quietly as possible, slips on his blue hoodie, and tip-toes towards the door of the hermes cabin.

he hesitates for a moment, hearing two people talking quietly outside the door. he waits patiently, hoping that they’ll leave, but their conversation only keeps going.

“and annabeth’s sure about this?” someone asks, and percy realizes that it’s you.

the other person scoffs, “you doubting my sister?”, and percy pinpoints the voice as luke’s.

“never. i’m doubting him,” you answer.

“c’mon, you know clarisse picks on everybody,” luke mumbles.

there’s a pause in the conversation, and percy thinks maybe you’ve left or moved on, but then your voice rings out into the quiet of the night:

“i have this feeling that he’s important, but i can’t figure out why.”

another pause.

“we’ll see when he gets claimed,” luke answers.

“if he gets claimed,” you reply.

“he will, even if it’s hera style,” luke says, and percy can’t help himself from opening the door.

“your mom’s hera? i thought she didn’t have kids!” percy shouts, shocking both you and luke.

you jump, and percy watches as you move to hide the bright orange vape in your hand. you wave away some of the smoke, and luke steps slightly in front of you, blocking your body from percy’s view. he notices the protective edge in luke’s posture, and how there was already very little space between you two.

“what are you doing out past curfew?” luke asks, staring percy down.

“i could ask you the same thing, but for the record, i’m going to the bathroom,” percy explains, standing his guard.

“just be quick, and watch out for the harpies,” you advise, tugging on the back of luke’s camp counselor shirt.

percy nods before walking by the two of you to head down the stairs. once he’s a little ways away, he risks a glance back at the hermes cabin porch. you’re still standing there with luke, his palms resting on your waist as he rubs circles with his thumb on your exposed skin. you two are whispering about something, but he can’t figure out what. he sees you slip luke your vape, but looks away when the older boy takes a hit.

that seemed oddly intimate.

lakeshore, day three, post-capture the flag

he’s in for it now, at least that’s what he assumes when he sees half of clarisse’s spear in his fist. she screams loudly, and percy hopes that you’ll hear and come to his rescue. thankfully, his saving grace comes in the form of the head counselor of the hermes cabin.

luke comes rushing down the side lines, holding the red flag high above his head. several people are following him, the entire blue team in fact, but percy can easily pinpoint you in the crowd. you don’t have a helmet on, which isn’t surprising to him; it fits your character. he notices how the baby hairs stick to your sweaty forehead, yet your eyes are bright and happy. this has to be the happiest he’s seen you.

your eyes never leave luke, even as he accepts hugs, handshakes, and overall congratulations from the other members of the team. finally, after the novelty of winning wears off, and his siblings finally give luke some space, you walk over to him. you shoulder check him, causing him to stumble a little on his feet, but the happiness doesn’t leave either of your eyes.

percy’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. you’re mean to luke, but you’re also not mean to luke.

“where’s my hug at?” luke asks, opening his arms wide for you.

you snort at him, shoving him backwards with a firm hand on his chestplate. luke doesn’t seem to mind, however, as his smile widens and he pulls off his helmet. he shakes his head back and forth, letting his curls loose after being confined for so long. percy watches you watch him, bottom lip between your teeth. luke opens his mouth, ready to say something, but you prevent him from even doing so. instead, you grab onto the brown leather straps of his armor, and pull his lips down to yours.

all the campers ring out in cheers. some of them even clap at the display of affection from the two of you.

“so they’re dating?” he asks no one in particular.

“yes,” annabeth answers from beside him.

he turns to look at her, understanding washing over him. you and luke are perfect for each other, balancing each other out. percy hopes he’ll find something like that with someone. he looks around camp, and his eyes land on annabeth, who magically appeared next to him.

“hey wait…were you here the whole time?” percy asks her, feeling a little angry that she basically watched him get his ass kicked by clarisse.

“percy,” she starts, “i’m really sorry about this,” and she pushes him into the water.

taglist: @percabethlvr @iwantahockeyhimbo @hottiewifeyyyy @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @maraschinocherry3 @used2beeeeee @harrysnovia @cami-is-reading @mxtokko @cxcilla @obxstiles

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fluff #pjo luke #all american bitch series #cobrakaisb writing

1K notes · View notes

maxivstappen · 8 days

Note

congratulations for 1k, you really deserve It !!

for your event: can i ask for a carlos sainz fic based on "break my heart, and I swear i'm moving on with your favorite athlete" by sabrina carpenter in good graces

thanks xx and ily

౨ৎ YOUR FAVORITE ATHLETE ! ‧₊˚.

౨ৎ 1K EVENT — short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

pairing — carlos alcaraz x reader / carlos sainz x reader

summary — break my heart and i swear im moving on with your favorite athlete! angst & sweet revenge (again lol)

warnings / disclaimer — none, just my not so perfect Spanish (please correct me)! hope you liked this <3 thank you lots for your support and sorry for my absence - school is really time consuming at the moment :( i'll be updating more frequently again soon — masterlist (not updated sry) / prev. work

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12th of January - TWITTER

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4th of February - @.yourusername ✓ just posted on INSTA !

liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,723,981 others

yourusername girls just wanna have fun or whatever 😝 love ya @.alexandrasaintmleux

view all 31,821 comments

user1 omg why did she unfollow carlos?

user2 @.user1 she follows carlos wdym

user3 @.user2 no they mean carlos alcaraz the tennis player, y/n‘s boyfriend (if they’re still together). I suppose you’re an f1 fan?

user2 @.user3 yes haha sorry i didn’t know that, and I don’t watch tennis so that’s why i was confused

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ my only love🥹 never ever leave me again!!

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

charles_leclerc ✓ @.alexandrasaintmleux what do you mean ‚only love‘?? don’t you think you’re missing someone?

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ @.charles_leclerc so sorry, of course i love my baby leo just as much🥰

charles_leclerc ✓ @.alexandrasaintmleux 😔

user4 oh they’re so HOT

user5 @.user4 CARLOS FUMBLED IF WHAT I‘M THINKING IS TRUE

user6 ONE CHANCE Y/N JUST ONE

landonorris ✓you can finally focus on the better sport now 🙌

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

user7 @.landonorris WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNNN

user8 @.user7 i think carlitos and her broke up 😭

yourusername ✓@.landonorris only saying that cause i keep beating you at tennis

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5th of February - TWITTER

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5th of February - TEXTS

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6th of February - @.yourusername ✓ just posted on INSTA !

liked by carlitosalcarazz, carlossainz55 and 1,576,971 others

yourusername if i speak i am in trouble 🤭

view all 26,933 comments

landonorris ✓ AHHHHHHH

yourusername ✓ @.landonorris AHHHHHHH

user9 @.landonorris LANDO SPILL

user10 guys alcaraz liked😧

user11 @.user10 HES JELLYYYYYY

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ hope you had the best night ever☺️

yourusername ✓ @.alexandrasaintmleux wasn’t as fun as it would’ve been with you🙂‍↔️

alexandrasaintmleux ✓ @.yourusername let me take you out next time 🤭

carlossainz55 ✓ @.yourusername @.charlesleclerc they’re flirting again😞

charles_leclerc ✓ @.carlossainz55 they will never stop😞

user12 THE LAST PIC

user13 @.user12 MYSTERY GUY SPENT THE NIGHT

user14 @.user13 THATS CARLOS SAINZ

user15 @.user14 i was about to call you delulu but…. i think you’re right

user16 @.user15 guys go get some sleep it’s okay … delulu isn’t always the solulu 😚

user17 HES HOLDING HER SHOES

user18 SOFT LAUNCH BUT WHO TF IS SHE LAUNCHING 🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥

carlossainz55 ✓ ❤️

-> ♥️ by @.yourusername ✓

user19 @.carlossainz55 @.user18 WE KNOW WHO SHES LAUNCHING🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

user20 @.carlossainz55 OHMYGAWWKDKSKALSKSKS

user21 TENNIS WAG TURNED F1 WAG AND IVE NEVER BEEN HERER FOR IT

user22 @.user21 you’ve never been what?

user23 @.user22 you need to learn matching people’s freak fr😣

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A Couple Weeks Later - TEXTS

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20th of October - @.carlossainz55 ✓ just posted on INSTA !

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 3,445,912 others

carlossainz55 won the race and got the girl😉 great work from the team (and me)

view 1 comment

yourusername ✓ love you baby

- comments have been disabled -

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20th of October - @.yourusername ✓ just posted a story on INSTA !

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hope you liked it <3 guys please correct my spanish PLEASEEEEE (the question marks are weird like that on purpose because i’m a lazy bitch)

gen / sns taglist :: @norrisdriver @1655clean

673 notes · View notes

strang3lov3 · 1 year

Text

Summary: Yours and Joel’s newest patrol task is exploring the old mall not far from Jackson. You learn what Victoria’s Secret really is. (She was NOT having an affair with former president of the United States Colonel Sanders) AKA grumpy cranky joel and you get down and dirty in an old Victoria’s Secret.

This is part 1 of my new series “Mall Rats”

Warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, doin it in front of a mirror (thanks gracie!), reverse cowgirl, joel is a dick, joel is condescending, reader is charming just like me, Joel does all the work because reader is a lady and Joel is an asshole.

W/C: 4.7k

“Weird looking stairs,” you mumble as you take in the unique environment. Beneath your feet are metallic steps with deep lined grooves, in front of you is Joel, stepping down the staircase. In the enclosed building, the walls are lined with different shops, there’s a few different seating areas. Old posters, advertisements. Colorfully painted walls are overgrown with roots and vines.

“S’cause they’re not regular stairs,” Joel says with a gruff voice. “S’called an escalator. Didn’t have to walk up and down the steps, you could stay stationary and it’d move ya up an’ down.”

“Sounds cool.”

“No,” Joel mutters. “Not cool.”

None of this is cool to Joel. In fact, it’s the opposite.

Tommy and his crew had stumbled across this mall while on patrol. Of course they couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, but they deemed it largely safe of infected. He wasn’t sure how picked over it was, but he figured it would be a good task for you and your curious mind. Comb it through for supplies, clothing, entertainment. Take notes and report back to him.

So what was Joel there for?

To chaperone you, of course. Keep you out of trouble, keep you safe, answer your million and one questions.

It was Tommy’s sick and twisted idea of a joke. Joel’s new patrol project involved two of the things he disdained the most: Malls, and you.

Comedy gold.

“No,” you mock his tone with a silly face, “Not cool.”

Joel rolls his eyes and ignores you. When you reach the bottom of the steps, he looks at his surroundings as he reaches in his bag for his flashlight. Turning it on he says, “We’ll start down here and work our way up. Scope everything out, get familiar. Then you can start combing through the stores for supplies and what have you. You stick by me. No wanderin’.”

“Don’t you mean we?” you ask. “We comb through the stores.”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t. S’your job, not mine. I’m just here to keep ya from gettin’ killed.”

Whatever. Joel can bitch and moan about this all he wants, but you’re grateful for the opportunity to explore the infinite wonders of the mall. It’s not like you’ve got much else to do. You’re indoors, safe from the elements and infected. You’re not complaining.

You reach into your own bag and pull out your flashlight. You turn it on, and the light flickers dimly. You smack it with your palm a couple times before the light finally goes out, then turn to Joel with a sweet smile on your face. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple extra–”

“You’re lucky I do,” Joel glares at you as he digs through his belongings to find a couple of double A batteries in his pack. You hold out your hand and he begrudgingly drops the batteries in your palm. “Quit fuckin’ around. Be prepared next time.” He’s certainly jolly today.

You replace the batteries and turn your flashlight on, and begin to make your way through the bottom level of the mall. Joel’s said nothing since giving you the batteries.

“So what did you do here? Or, not here specifically. Just like, malls in general,” you ask as you make your way through tables and chairs. A big sign on a nearby wall informs you that this area is called the food court.

“I did nothing. Malls were always packed with people, way too busy. Too many teenagers. Expensive too,” Joel scrunches his nose as he catches a whiff of something foul at an old hot dog stand. “But other people, they’d come here and shop for clothes, get somethin’ to eat. Could catch a movie f’ya wanted.”

“So where’d you get your clothes from?”

Joel shrugs. “Dunno. Just kinda always had them in my dresser, I guess.”

Sounds like Joel.

There’s a Panda Express, something called Auntie Anne’s that you and Joel are looking through together. He’s eyeing the cooking equipment and you’re baffled as you stare at a five gallon drum of nacho cheese on the floor.

“That cheese is probably still good,” Joel comments.

“You’re joking.”

“It ain’t the real cheese like we got back in Jackson. Auntie Anne’s was a pretzel shop, lotta people would dip ‘em in that cheese.”

Auntie Anne’s doesn’t have much to offer, so you and Joel move right along. Next stop is Kentucky Fried Chicken. You point to the man on the logo. “Who’s that?”

“Colonel Sanders. He was the president way back when.”

You know better. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Sure he was,” Joel says. “You weren’t there. You don’t know.”

He’s such a dick. You roll your eyes and leave him and Colonel Sanders to their own devices as you walk through the rest of the food court.

Joel doesn’t realize you’d left. He tells you another Kentucky Fried Fun Fact and when he’s met with no answer, he looks up to find you at Cinnabon at the end of the food court.

He makes his way to you then kicks you with his boot. “Didn’t I tell you to stay next to me?”

You ignore his question and ask him your own. “What’s Cinnabon?”

“M’serious,” he says. “No more wanderin’.”

“Yeah, yeah. No wanderin’.” you mock his Southern accent once more. But more importantly, you demand answers. “Tell me about Cinnabon.”

“They’re just cinnamon rolls. Cinnamon. Bun. S’in the name, genius.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t like those much either, then.”

“Actually, they were pretty good. Big and gooey, covered in icing. You were supposed to split ‘em with someone but I never did.”

“Ah, right. You and your sweet tooth,” You smile.

“I don’t have a sweet tooth,” Joel lies. “Keep movin’.”

So you do. There’s a lemonade stand here and there, but mostly shops now. A bookstore, jewelry stores. Something called “Wet Seal”. You ask Joel what it is, to which he replies “Fuck if I know.”

A shoe store has piqued Joel’s interest. He’s looking for a new pair of boots as you stare out the window of the shop, wondering who the hell Victoria is and what secret she’s hiding. Joel taps you on the arm to tell you to follow him as he leaves the shoe store.

“What’s Victoria’s Secret?”

“Oh,” Joel says. “Nothin’. We don’t need to go there.”

Oof. Bad move, Joel. Now you have to find out what the deal is with Victoria’s Secret. You take off for the store, ignoring Joel’s orders to stick by his side. “Did she have a secret affair with President Colonel Sanders?”

“No, god dammit. Get back here. We ain’t goin’.”

“Why not?”

“I just don’t wanna.”

But you do. So you ignore his bitching and approach the store, stopping when you realize exactly what kind of store it is. “Oh.”

Joel catches up to you. “Mhm,” he mumbles. “S’just underwear. Now c’mon, I’m tired of chasin’ ya.”

“No way,” you argue. “I need new underwear. I’m actually going commando right now, so this is perfect.”

Joel makes a face like he’s in pain and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Boundaries.”

You don’t believe in TMI.

You enter the store, entranced by the women in the photos and the black sparkly floor. There’s a big table with panties laid on top, drawers underneath that indicate sizing. You open the drawers with your size and begin sifting through the underwear. All different styles, patterns, colors. Way cuter than the few you have back in Jackson.

You pick out a few different pairs. Brown with pink polka dots, pink with red roses. Some bikini styles, some boyshorts. You hold up a white pair with lace and a little blue flower sewn on the center of the waistband. “Joel, look! Aren’t these cute?”

“Just adorable,” he mumbles without bothering to actually look. If his voice were any more full of sarcasm he’d choke. Joel keeps his eyes firm on the ground, like he’s being intimidated by the mannequins and their threatening panties. You giggle and he shoots you a warning look.

You look for a few more pairs, then find a few pairs that look a little different. You hold one up, trying to figure out which side you put your legs through. When you look at the nearly bare-assed woman in the advertisement that reads 5 for $20 above you, you realize how it’s meant to be worn. Oh, you think. Neato. You stuff a few of the thongs in your bag. Could be fun.

Joel’s still behind you, eyes still focused on the floor, off in his own, prudish little world. You wonder what he’s thinking. There’s a fire engine red thong in the drawer, with sparkles and lace. You know, the works. And you know it’ll be just perfect for a special someone. “Hey, Joel. Found some for you.”

“Not interested.”

You loop the thong over your index finger and pull back with your other hand, then shoot it at Joel like it’s a hair tie. It hits him square on his nose and he catches it in his hand, then throws it on the ground as he pouts. “Alright, enough. You’re done. We’re leavin’.”

You shake your head. “Tommy said I’m in charge.”

Joel groans. “Oh, for the love of god. In charge, my ass.”

You know better than to keep arguing. So you just walk towards the bras, ignoring Joel’s voice in the background telling you to get back here. He hates it when you walk away from him when he’s speaking, so he always follows you so that you hear every last word. It works out, though. You get to do what you want, and Joel gets to give you his stern talking-to. How’s that for a compromise?

The bras are set up similarly to the panties, with different drawers for different sizes. Joel’s still going off about how you never follow orders, how you probably don’t even need any of this, you’re just doing it to get under his skin. And it’s working. Something about how when we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to take me off of patrol with y–

You interrupt. “The fuck?”

“What?”

“What does any of this mean? 30A, 30B, 32A, 34C, 34DD?” You hold up different bras and show him the tags.

“Those are sizes, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I gathered that, thanks. But what’s my size?”

“Why’re ya askin’ me? Just grab one so we can go. Christ almighty.”

Men. No help at all.

Surely a store that specializes in bras must have some sort of sizing chart or something. There’s end caps with different beauty products, you stuff a strawberry flavored lipgloss in your pocket as you search. The register might have something, you guess. And lucky you, you’re right. Under the counter are a few measuring tapes and charts.

Predictable Joel follows you, of course. He says nothing as you read through the instructions. First wrap around your back, under your armpits and just above your bust. That’s your band size. Then do the same with your bust, and subtract the band size from the bust. There’s your A, B, C, D and so on.

You take off your hoodie and stand in just a tank top, no bra. When you said commando, you meant it. Joel watches you as you wrap the measuring tape around yourself.

“Sweetheart,” Joel interrupts, and he sounds exhausted. “What are you doin’.”

“Making you a Cinnabon, what’s it look like?” you mumble with your chin smushed into your neck as you try to read the numbers on the tape.

And Joel thought Ellie was annoying.

You’ve got the measuring tape twisted and tangled behind you, and you don’t even realize it. The inner contractor in Joel can’t bear to watch any more of this fuckery. “Give me that,” he spits, yanking the measuring tape away from your body. “You’re useless.”

Joel looks over the directions for a moment before tapping your arms. You lift up, he wraps the measuring tape properly around your body. There’s a nearby pen and he scribbles the number down, then lowers the measuring tape, his thumbs skating over the clothed flesh of your breasts. Your nipples harden as his fingers brush them accidentally.

And you thought the thong you shot at Joel was red. It doesn’t even begin to compare to the shade of crimson Joel’s face turns as he realizes what he’s done. Quickly, he drops the measuring tape and writes down the second number and your bra size. “Ther-” his voice cracks and he clears his throat. “There. Go find your bra. Then we’re leavin’, and I’m not arguin’ this time.”

You smirk at his vocal mishap. “Okay. But I have to try them on first.”

“You never make things easy for me, do you?”

Joel follows you as you look for a few different bras in your size. You pick out a few that match your panties, and a few others. There’s a silky black bra with so much memory foam padding that it rivals your pillow at home. Again, perfect for your special someone.

Joel’s smelling different perfumes when you sidle up to him and lay the bra on his head, the large cups sitting on either side of his scalp. “Mickey Mouse,” you tell him.

Joel glares at you as he removes the bra and drops it on the floor. “You are giving me a fuckin’ aneurysm.”

You look pleased with yourself, which only makes him more pissed off. But the table next to Joel catches your eye. There’s a pretty satin babydoll dress, with a matching pair of panties. It’s a nice light pink color, with pretty floral lace. “Hmm.” you mumble, thinking to yourself.

Joel watches your eyes leave his face as you become distracted. “What?” he turns his attention toward where your vision is focused. “Oh. Nope. You don’t need that.”

“Why not?”

“You said you needed underwear. S’lingerie. All them frills and lace…” Joel trails off.

“I think it’d be nice for a date night.”

Joel’s jaw clenches slightly. “I do not envy the poor bastard who takes you home,” he says. He’s probably just annoyed, at his wit’s end with you. Probably not jealous. Definitely not jealous. “But guys don’t give a shit what you’re wearin’, honey. Just wanna get what’s underneath. S’a waste of time.”

You shrug and grab your size in the lingerie anyway. Then you take off towards the dressing rooms to try everything on. You enter the first room on the right, and Joel sits at a bench directly across, just a few feet away from you.

You try on a couple of bras and feel pleased when they fit and support you. They make the girls sit pretty, too.

You take off the bra and eye the pretty babydoll and its matching bottom. So you try it on, and it’s gorgeous. It frames you nicely, sits right above your ass to show off the panties. You admire yourself in the mirror for a while before deciding you’ll save it for a date night. Fuck what Joel says. Maybe he doesn’t like lingerie, but that doesn’t mean you can’t.

Things are going smoothly until you try to unhook the babydoll in the back. It’s stuck or something. You fidget with it for a second, accidentally smacking your elbow against one of the dressing room walls in the process.

“Y’alright in there?” Joel calls out to you.

“Fine, just uh…” You step out of the dressing room. “Need your help with the hook in the back. It’s stuck.”

Joel looks like a deer in the headlights when you stand before him, clad in your pink satin babydoll and matching panties. You leave the changing room door open, Joel stares at your ass on the mirror attached to it. He’s all flustered, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Lord have mercy.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a lingerie guy.”

Joel swallows thickly. “I don’t know about that, exactly.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow. Joel, suddenly a man of few words. How much nicer he is when he’s quiet, you think. “How about you unhook it so I can change?”

“Yeah I could uh…do that.” Joel stands up, then carefully holds the straps of your dress between his fingers. His featherlight touch leaves goosebumps on your shoulders. “Shouldn’t be wearin’ this. It’s very impractical.”

“I know, Joel. You mentioned that.”

His hands trail lower down the straps, his fingers resting against your skin. “Uh huh. Cheap material…could get torn very easily f’ya aren’t careful.”

And then his fingers are moving up the straps again. He places two hands on your hips and turns you around, fingers skating across your ass cheeks. You feel his body step closer to yours, his hot breath on your neck as he whispers, “M’sure it's not stitched too good. Probably not easy to clean, either.” He catches you off guard when you look at yourself in the mirror. He’s staring intently at the reflection of your body, then his eyes flicker to yours.

“Right,” you agree.

Joel’s scanning your body again, observing how the fabric falls around your curves just so. He looks hungry, like the moment you peel your eyes from him he’ll devour you.

“Are you gonna take it off of me?” He ignores your question as he pinches the bottom of your babydoll between his fingers, the soft satin tickling your skin as he moves the fabric. “Joel?”

“Yeah, hon. I’m gettin’ there. Be patient f’me, now.” Your stomach flutters at the low timbre of his voice, the way he purrs in your ear. Joel absolutely does not like lingerie. Not one bit, god dammit.

His eyes are darkened with lust as he sucks in a breath, admiring the way your breasts sit beneath the clothing, the way it drapes over your stomach and rests on your hips. One of the straps falls off your shoulder and he clicks his tongue. “See? S’no good.”

“Guess so,” you agree, and he places the strap back on your shoulder, his fingers lingering for a moment too long as he contemplates his next move.

“Closer,” he pulls your hand towards himself, and you step backward. He lets his hands slide down your body over the lingerie and you watch him frown in the mirror, his hands stopping when he reaches the bottom of your dress. “N’it covers up all these pretty curves…” Joel lifts up the fabric, inspecting the craftsmanship of your panties. He takes note of the way they’re darkened beneath your core, sticky with your arousal. “These panties…thin, huh?” He traces a finger delicately over the strap on your hip, pulling it back and snapping on your skin.

Your breath hitches in your throat. “Joel,” you breathe shakily, “You’re teasing me.”

“M’sorry, darlin’. Just tryna show ya somethin’.” You watch as he trails a finger over your mound, dragging it across the damp cloth and finding your clit over the fabric. He rubs steady circles as he whispers, “See, now look at that. You’re stainin’ em. Makin’ a big fuckin’ mess of yourself.”

You bite back a moan. “Joel, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like, I’m makin’ a Cinnabon.” Joel mocks you from earlier, but you don’t catch his snide teasing. You’re foggy headed and lost in this moment. “I just said I’m tryna show ya somethin’. Now hush while I’m speakin’.” He pushes your panties to the side, smirking when he feels how soaked your soft folds are as he drags his fingers up and down your slit. Your knees weaken and wobble, and Joel wraps an arm around your waist to guide you back some more. He sits on the bench with you on his lap, tapping a foot in between yours. You spread your legs and your stomach flutters feeling his hardness press against you. You watch him through the mirror as he speaks quietly into your ear, his breath tickling you as two of his thick fingers breach your entrance and push inside. “You said this lil’ number would be nice for a date, right?”

You nod while whimpering, turning your face into his neck. With his other strong hand, he holds your jaw and turns your attention back to the mirror in front of you. “S’matter? Don’t be gettin’ all bashful on me now,” he murmurs. He’s curling his fingers, swirling them inside you and memorizing every inch of your walls. “Watch how I touch ya.”

You watch his fingers twitch and dance under your pretty pink panties. You peel your eyes away to look at his face, and he’s focused on his hand between your thighs.

“S’pose it could be nice for a date,” Joel breathes. “You’d wear this, what, under a pretty dress or somethin’?”

You nod again.

“And then when that pretty dress comes off that evenin’, then what happens?”

“I-I dunno, Joel.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart. I’ll tell you what happens. Your gentleman's gonna take one look at this little getup and rip it right off. Leave it in shreds on the floor and break your poor heart.”

You’re waiting for Joel to do just that. But he doesn’t, he just keeps fingering you under your panties. Two fingers deep inside you, thumb painting circles into your clit. There’s a heat building in your stomach, tickling you from the inside. Joel takes a moment to lift you up, undo his jeans and pull himself out before he begins to rock against you. His head nudges between your cheeks, warm and smooth and hard. How you wish you could see it, hold it in your hand, feel him with your tongue. You squirm against him and find his free arm, hugging it tight to steady yourself on him. Joel chuckles in a low tone.

“But I know you feel pretty,” Joel continues, “M’gonna work around it for ya, baby, but only if you’re good t’me. You know what that means?”

You’re irritated as you shake your head no. Joel’s using his fingers to taunt you, tease you. He knows just how he’s working you up, giving you just enough to keep you squirming but not enough to send you over the edge.

“It means–” Joel pulls his fingers away from your core and you groan. “Shush. Quit your whinin’.” He pushes you up by your hips so he can pull his pants down a little further, then sits you on his lap again, this time with his cock sitting between your folds and your panties pulled as far to the side as he could get them. With his hands still on your hips, he guides you up and down, up and down, coating himself in your arousal. You can just barely make out the shape as his tip rubs against your clit. He continues, “Means no more wanderin’,” he pulls the top of the babydoll down and watches your tits fall out, his both hands leaving your hips and sliding up to play with your breasts. “Y’come prepared for patrol,” he notches his stiff cock at your dripping entrance, “And I’m in charge. Not you. We clear?”

You nod. You’re not sure how he did it, but with Joel’s teasing, he’s seemingly melted away every bit of attitude in you.

“Good girl. Now don’t say I don’t do nothin’ for ya.”

With that, he thrusts up into you, parting your insides. You watch his cock disappear inside of you before throwing your head back on his shoulder with a moan. Joel smirks before using a firm yet gentle hand to guide your head back where he wants it. “Watch,” he coos, reminding you. “You’re pretty like this.”

Joel uses his hands on your hips to bounce you on his cock, then lets them glide up your body. He palms your breasts, squeezing and watching your flesh move and bulge under his fingers. He gropes you a couple of times while pinching and twisting your nipples, enjoying the way your moans change pitch with the action.

While Joel plays with your nipples, you ride him. Your thighs ache and tremble, knees shaking. You bounce yourself on him a little longer before letting yourself go limp.

Joel takes the hint, drops his hands to your hips and picks up where you left off. You lean back and let him do his thing. “Gonna make me do all the work for ya, huh?”

You say nothing, just let those sweet sounds fall from your lips as he fucks you. You reach between your thighs and touch what you can of him, unsatisfied with the way you didn’t get to before. Joel makes a noise, seemingly enjoying it.

He kneads your ass as he uses his strong arms to move you up and down, snapping his hips against yours. “Fuck,” he hisses. He lets out breathy sounds, grunts and growls tickling your ear and making the hair on your neck stand straight up. He’s sweating, soaking through his shirt and making your back feel damp. You’ll take what you can get of Joel right now, but you’re wishing you could see him better. Feel him more, his skin, watch his muscles twitch under you. Or above you. You don’t have a preference at the moment.

“Joel,” you moan. “Oh, Joel.”

He smirks, pleased with the noises you make. Pleased with your lack of words, your lack of attitude. How docile for him you are. He would have fucked you long ago if he knew you’d be like this. So well behaved.

He turns his face into your neck and bites down. Hard. He soothes the marks over with his tongue, whispering nothings into your skin. You find your clit with your hand and begin circling it while Joel fucks into you. You think you have the right. Joel, however, disagrees.

“Hey,” he smacks your hand away. “What’d we talk about? Who’s in charge?” You move your hand between your thighs again, and Joel circles your wrist with his fingers and holds it away from you. “I asked you a question.”

“You are, Joel,” you breathe.

“S’right. Means I take care of ya,” In the mirror, you watch Joel let go of your wrist and find your clit himself. “Thought you’d know better. Just sit pretty. S’all ya gotta do.”

“Joel,” you whisper, “Let me come,”

“What’s the magic word, hon?”

“Please,” you beg. “Please. Make me come for you, I want–I wanna come on your cock, please. Please, Joel.”

“Wrong,”

You huff, exasperated and frustrated.

“It’s Cinnabon.”

Joel shifts himself on the bench, finding the perfect angle. He continues fucking you, effortlessly finding that sweet spot inside you. He pulls back the hood of your clit, fingers painting the sensitive nub as he begins his work. Your thighs tremble and shake, he keeps you pressed tight to his chest.

He’s magic. You’re moaning with abandon, eyes darting between the picture between your thighs and his face, and he’s playing with you like he owns you.

“Right there,” you tell him. “Right there, Joel.”

Soon enough, your moans become breathier and broken, spread out between a medley of curse words and Joel’s name.

“Yeah,” he says. “Look at you, comin’ so nice on my cock.”

You squeeze Joel’s working arm as you come, nails digging into his hot skin, feeling his tendons and muscles twitch under your fingertips. Your walls pulse and contract with your orgasm, the pleasure built up deep inside you spilling over and coursing through your veins.

You’re limp against Joel, letting him use you as he chases his own release. He sits you straight up, bounces you harshly for a moment before breathing through his gritted teeth. You pull your attention from the mirror in front of you and focus your vision on your lap, watching as he comes inside you. Watching yourself soak his cock. He keeps you moving, his spend spilling out of you and over your pink panties.

Joel pulls your body off of him and sits you back down. His spend continues dripping out of you, spilling onto the bench. He gets your clothes out of the dressing room and places them next to you, then stands you up and unclips your babydoll dress in the back. You forgot about that. But he did say he was getting to it, after all.

He pulls the garment off of you, then helps you out of your stained panties. He helps you into a new pair of panties, the white pair with the little blue flower on the waistband. “So you’re not goin’ commando anymore,” he says. Then he dresses you in one of your new bras, your shirt and your pants. The lingerie lays crumpled on the floor.

“So you still don’t like lingerie?” you ask.

Joel shrugs. “Keep it. I don’t care,” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “You tried your shit on, we’re leavin’.”

That’s fine by you. Next stop is Bath and Body Works. You spotted it earlier, and you actually know what that store is. You’re low on body sprays and you’re gonna make Joel help you pick out some new ones, even if you have to drag him kicking and screaming.

‘Cause Tommy said you’re in charge.

Part two here

NO MORE TAGLIST!! Follow @strang3stories and turn on notifs!

#strang3lov3 #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #soft dom!joel #soft dom!joel miller #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal x you #joel tlou #joel miller fic #grumpy joel #mall rats

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lnlightning81 · 6 months

Text

The Drivers - Part 1

Series Title : Younger Sister (TBC)

Summary: Being Lando Norris' sister made it surprising that it was one of your only visits to the paddock. Ollie made sure to introduce you to all the drivers and show you about.

Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader, Lando Norris x Sister!reader , Grid x Norris!Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Oliver Bearman Masterlist

Lando Norris Masterlist

It wasn’t exactly hard being Lando’s sister, especially when you hardly went to races. Silverstone just never matched up with when you could take holidays from your part time job and the break from school but now you were close to finishing high school and had left your part time job to travel with Lando -with him paying for literally everything because what else should brother’s do?-

The last couple of days of school and you finally decided it was time for you to change your phone wallpaper back to your favourite picture of yourself and Lando. When Lando got moved into F1, you changed your phone wallpaper back to a less obvious picture of yourself and Lando, so you didn’t get people wanting to be your friend just because of Lando.

Now you were at the first race you had been to in a long while -Silverstone- sat in the Mclaren garage just wanting to annoy Lando as a little sister should do but he was interviewing and you didn’t want to be in front of the camera. That’s when you saw Max walk past the garage alone. Max was basically a brother he’d been about since as long as you could remember.

“Max” you called before jumping on his back

“Missing LN, are we?” He asked, and you nodded

“Lan left me in the garage alone” you pouted, and he chuckled

“What are you going to do when you’re the only one with him?” He asked, starting to walk again.

“Where are you going?” You asked him, resting your head on his shoulder

“Going to find your brother to return his property” He joked, and you slapped his arm. Max laughed as he walked to the media pen, stopping next to Lando and dropping you onto the floor

“Your property, I believe” Max tapped your head before walking away

“Lan I’m bored” You whine, and his PR manager laughed

“You didn’t bring anything to keep her entertained?” His PR manager asked

“I thought she’d find some random F2 driver’s girlfriend to talk to, but obviously not” I pouted, shoving him away

“I don’t know if they’re just random people or girlfriends and family” You shrugged, and he nodded

“Fair point, I guess. Come on I’ll introduce you to Ollie he’s over there” You nodded, following behind him as he walked away, gripping onto his wrist

“Y/N no one’s gonna kidnap you” He laughed, and you gripped his wrist tighter

“But it’s so busy, and I don’t know where I’m going” You whine as he comes to a sudden stop, causing you to bump into his back.

“Ollie” the older sibling smiled at the younger boy, who was just happily sipping on his drink

“Oh hey Lando. Y/N” He smiled, looking up

“Hey” You smiled back at him

“You already know Ollie?” Lando questioned, and you nodded

“I’ve not been avoiding Formula racing all together or living under a rock” You shrugged

“And he knows you?” Lando looked between the two of you.

“Ollie follows me on instagram. I became quite the popular girl at school” You giggle thinking back to prom when you were being questioned on how you were now followed by not only Lando but Oliver Bearman. What Lando didn’t need to know is that you two were secretly texting and had plans to go for ice cream after his sprint race while Lando was doing whatever practice.

“Okay well bye. I’ll see you in an hour” Lando walked away, and that’s when it became awkward

“You’ve definitely not been to a race in a while” Ollie chuckled, taking your smaller hand in his larger hand and moving you out of the media pen.

“They’re scary. There’s always so many people here, and I never know who I’m allowed to be talking to” you pouted

“Come on I’ll introduce you to the drivers, some of them anyway” Ollie led you back into the paddock and in between all the different motorhomes starting with Ferrari as he was meant to be in there anyway.

“We’ll start with Ferrari because at least if you get lost, you can’t miss the bright red” He grinned, leading you inside and over to a couple of people talking. Charles and Carlos. You obviously knew who the drivers were. They just didn’t know who you were.

“Done with your interviews?” Charles asked, and Ollie nodded

“Yeah, I finished those. Now I’m showing Y/N about the place” He smiled as both the Ferrari drivers looked at you.

“Girlfriend?” Carlos asked, and Ollie shook his head as you laughed

“Lando’s sister. I don’t know how I ended up with her” Ollie replied, and you looked up at him slightly offended

“Lando’s sister?” Charles repeated, and you nodded

“Lando has another sister?” Carlos asked.

“We didn’t meet while you were teammates. I was still quite busy with school. It’s been my first race for a while. I don’t know many people here” you replied as he nodded slowly

“You look like Lando, to be honest” Charles tilted his head

“It’s the curls” You shrugged as Ollie took your hand again

“Next garage” He cheered, pulling you out. You gave a polite wave to the Ferrari drivers as Ollie pulled you to the Red Bull garage. You knew Max. When you stayed with Lando during holidays or lockdown, he would stream with Max.

“Hey Y/N” Max smiled, wrapping you in a hug

“Finally! A familiar face” You hummed hugging him back

“What happened to me introducing you to everyone?” Ollie asked, and you smiled, turning to look at him as you pulled back from the hug

“Max and Lando are like best friends. Lando has a thing about people called Max” You joked as Max Fewtrell walked up behind you

“What about us Max’s?” He asked, causing you to jump and let out a scream

“Bog off Max” you replied

“Ohh not the Tracy Beaker line” He joked, and you rolled your eyes. Both Lando and Max still had a thing about you swearing, not like you were legally an adult, so you resorted to saying ‘Bog off’

“Are you lost? Do I need to carry you back to Lando”? He asked, and you shook your head

“Ollie is showing me about and introducing me to different people” You smiled, and he nodded, ruffling your hair

“Well P is lost, so I’m gonna go find her. Be safe” Max walked off as Checo joined

“Ah Checo this is Lando’s youngest sister Y/N” The Dutch man introduced you, and you smiled at Checo

“Nice to meet you” you hummed, looking at Ollie for help. Checo and Lando weren’t exactly the best of friends.

Ollie continued to introduce you to different drivers until it was time for him to return you to Lando - that was Lando’s words - so now you were following Ollie back to the Mclaren garage. He stopped outside, and you smiled at him

“Thank you for showing me about” You thanked him, and he nodded

“Are we still up for ice cream tomorrow?” He asked, and you nodded

“We are. But you’re coming to me. I still don’t know where I’m going” you replied

“Then I’ll meet you outside here?” You smiled with a nod as Lando walked out the garage

“Home time” He cheered, and you laughed, waving bye to Ollie as Lando walked you out of the paddock as he talked to Oscar.

Next Part

Tag List

@bearryyy

@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

@lozzamen3

@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

@f1kenzzz

@seasonswinter

@ellen3101

@via-ferns

@taygrls

@urfavsgf

@hwalllllllelujah

@vicurious28

@ririyulife

@taronyuhunter

@llando4norris

@sbrn0905

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jeonsweetpea · 3 months

Text

The Moon Knows Our Secrets (1)

Exes to Lovers!AU | Hybrid!Jungkook x Hybrid!OC | Soulmate!AU

genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers, vampire/werewolf hybrid (emphasis on werewolf), soulmates, forced proximity

rating: explicit

description: He doesn’t remember loving you. How could he, when you’re the one who erased his memories? You run into him a year later at a wedding. The year after that he’s reported missing and you go off to find him. Then you wonder: did he ever forget you?

word count: 9.1k

warnings: blood, blood-drinking, one injury, flirting, TXT is mentioned and they’re horny brats but protective!JK swoops in, ANGST, mentions of compulsion, past deaths, JK smokes for like, one second, fire, resentment, but trust me, they will fall for each other all over again, two-shot 💖

smut warnings: OC goes into HEAT at the worst time, kissing, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, overstimulation, (more intense smut to come in part 2)

a/n: This is an epilogue for my series Moonstruck (inspired by TVD), but it can be read as a STAND-ALONE! You do not have to read Moonstruck (but it will be more satisfying if you have 😉). I love this couple and they deserve their (steamy) happy ending. They both embody the “right person, wrong place.”

Part 1 | Part 2 |

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me. I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely. If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me. When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me. You’ll remember then. I love you, Jungkook.”

You first saw him again at a wedding.

When you arrive at the venue, your eyes scan the sea of strangers for him like an automated response. You clutch onto the chain of your purse, the tight squeeze in your chest never seeming to disappear. Once you’re sure of his absence, the tension in your shoulders fades.

Round tables are arranged around a central dance floor, so you sit at the closest one, joining in the crowd’s applause despite not knowing what’s happening. The happy couple is swaying to romantic jazz music played by the live band, their adoring smiles perfectly matched.

“What did I miss?”

Your old classmate chuckles when she notices your presence, using her fingers to count as she lists off her answers. “The ring bearer, flower girl, the da-da-da-da piano introduction, the vows, the kiss, the first dance—so pretty much everything. Surprised to see you here.”

So are you. It took you hours of hyping yourself up before deciding to attend. You never RSVP-ed properly, allocating all your time to getting ready instead. Not that you had anyone to impress, but it’s a wedding. Sweatpants weren’t going to cut it.

“Can everyone please have a seat? We’re going to hear the best man give his speech!” That authoritative voice belonged to Kim Namjoon, the headmaster of BTSU (Be The Supernatural University). His dimple smile emerges when he notices you and he waves excitedly, dropping the microphone in the process.

You giggle. “See? I didn’t miss everything, Lia.”

She hands you a glass of champagne, then clinks the glass against your own. “Okay, Ms. Fashionably Late. At least you look hot.”

The guests take their seats while the couple sits at the head table near the dance floor. There’s a small stage next to them and on it is a microphone stand under a beautifully decorated archway. A blanket of silence washes over the crowd as anticipation rises, but the best man is nowhere to be found. Murmurs spread quickly as heads turn in confusion.

“I’m here, I’m here!”

You don’t have to look to know who that voice belonged to. The glass in your hand trembles, on the brink of shattering under your tightening grip. Your mouth parts open in shock, your heart rate beating so loudly that it rings in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd’s applause as the so-called best man gets on stage.

Jeon Jungkook — your ex-boyfriend.

Could you even call him your ex? Your history was, in a word, complicated. Boyfriend and girlfriend weren’t labels you two were fortunate enough to share. Bound by trauma, forced into despair, crippled with pain — the “relationship” in question was toxic.

“You’re going to forget the fact you ever loved me…”

A hybrid had many advantages — compulsion included. With one look, you ordered him to forget having loved you and then left. Traveling the world healed you and the thought of returning to your college campus never once crossed your mind until a year later.

Your old professor sent you a text — a wedding invitation to be specific. Though the gesture was sweet, you preferred staying blissfully ignorant. You almost deleted it. However, F.O.M.O was a crippling feeling, so you ultimately gave in.

You were aware the chances of running into Jungkook were high, but that’s why you arrived late on purpose. You had let your guard down too easily, assuming he might’ve left early or not bother showing up at all. What a fool.

The fairy lights strung across the venue illuminate him with a gorgeous golden glow as he steps onto the stage. You hold your breath as the world seems to slow down, taking in his features.

His hair used to be longer and shaggier; you teased him for having a mop-head back then (lovingly). Now it’s half long, with shaved sides and a slight mullet. He wore a simple white shirt, layered with a classic black blazer and matching dress pants. Several square box chains surrounded his neck, complimenting his silver hoop earrings and lip ring (when did he get that?). His accessories sparkle under the lights, almost blinding, as if he were a living filter.

Damn. He’s only gotten more gorgeous.

Jungkook quickly adjusts the microphone stand to his height, then presents a bunny-tooth grin. “Hello everyone! Sorry, I’m late. I had forgotten my script.” He shakes the index cards in his hands gently, causing a ripple of laughter through the crowd. “It’s an honor being both Hoseok and Yoongi’s best man.”

Jung Hoseok was your old classmate, who used to be the alpha of the werewolf pack senior year. But then along came Jungkook, who stole the title from beneath him after challenging him to a duel. Funny how he is now his best man.

Min Yoongi was the one who invited you, a research assistant at your university. If you had to describe him in a phrase, it’d be: “Actions speak louder than words.” You knew his intentions when he sent the invitation, so you had to come and support him the same way he’s done for you.

Jungkook peers down at his script before placing a hand on the microphone.

“I’ve known Yoongi and Hoseok for years now and their love is truly special. They’re often private with their affection, but we know how they would go out of their way for each other. My favorite part is whenever Hoseok compliments Yoongi, he’d—”

“AaarrghhH!!!” The obnoxious scream is from Yoongi himself, who had stood up and faced away from the crowd. People crack up at his hilarity, including Hoseok who is clapping his hands like a seal.

“Yes. That. Exactly that,” Jungkook says, followed by a soft chuckle. “The two play off each other well. Hoseok brings joy to everyone and it’s infectious. I’ve never seen Yoongi happier than when he’s with Hoseok.”

Yoongi rubs the nape of his neck, a shy smile gracing his features as he sits back down. Hoseok places his head on his partner’s shoulders, sighing in content. Jungkook flips to the next index card and clears his throat.

“Yoongi and Hoseok are people I like from the bottom of my heart. They’re like family, and I’m so glad to be a part of their story. We were able to come to where we are right now because everybody was all together.” His lips tremble slightly as he holds the corners of the card with both hands, tears slowly welling up in his eyes. His head hangs low for a moment but then he looks up, forcing a smile on his face. “Sorry, I’m getting emotional.”

You almost shout it’s okay! but nothing comes out. Fortunately, a couple of folks blurt out comforting words that make him laugh as he quickly wipes his tears away. He rolls his shoulders back and blows a small raspberry with his lips to reset.

“These two have both helped me through so much. When I almost lost my life. When I lost my friends. When I wanted to give up on myself,” His eyes scanned across the venue as if simulating eye contact with each guest. “And especially when I experienced the biggest absence of my life with…”

His words are cut short at the same time your breath hitches. It’s a split second, but you’re sure. You’re sure his gaze fell on you, his expression stiffening slightly while you let out a silent gasp. The world seems to be at a standstill until he crumples the cards in his hand and tosses them aside. He lets out a half-hearted laugh, gesturing to the large projector screen he prepared earlier.

“Enough about me!” he exclaims. “I made a compilation of the couple’s best moments. Enjoy!”

You don’t pay attention to the video playing despite the roaring laughter from the crowd. Someone shouts something about the couple wearing colorful animal sheet masks, but your eyes are glued to Jungkook. He exits the stage, heading back to his group of friends at the table furthest from yours. They give him a pat on the back and he’s back to smiling as if nothing happened.

Was it your imagination? Maybe he wasn’t looking at you. You finish your champagne in one gulp, slamming the glass down without meaning to. The sharp sting in your palm makes you realize your actions as you groan, the deep cut across your hand oozing blood.

“[Y/N], are you okay? Oh my gosh, here.” Lia is quick to grab the cloth napkin, wrapping it around your hand and tying a knot.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I’ll heal anyway.”

“Still, how did this even happen? What’s got you so tense?”

You say nothing, but she follows your line of sight and purses her lips. “Are you looking at the wolves? Is it Jungkook?”

“No,” you say quickly. “I’m gonna go to the restroom and wash the blood off.”

Before she can interrogate you further, you make a break for it. It was difficult walking in your nude heels, each step feeling like you were sinking deeper into the grass. The fairy lights help you see in the dark as you pass by the greenery of the garden, the flowers being your favorite part. You’d stop to smell them but didn’t want the blood to stain their lovely petals. Your feet finally reach a cobblestone path and you see the restroom building up ahead.

There’s a handwashing sink outside. Once you turn on the faucet, you unwrap the cloth around your hand and wash the excess blood away. The cut had partially healed already — another perk of hybrid blood — but it still felt nice.

You find yourself lost in thought as the cool water flows onto your hands. You tell yourself there’s no way Jungkook was looking at you. He doesn’t even know you. At least, not in the way he used to.

“I’m just the girl who had a crush on you and trained with you, nothing more. I want you to live your life freely.”

Ah. Right. You’ve been reduced to a mere stranger now. The depressing reality makes you sigh as you turn off the water.

That’s when you hear it. Footsteps. Heavy ones that grow louder from behind you. The hairs on your neck stand up as you turn around.

Jungkook is approaching you, his stride long and confident. Your brain must have been rewired to put him in slow motion because he’s like a model walking down a runway. You can’t believe your eyes and are torn between running away or staying put. He’s closer now. Your heart skips a beat, the anticipation crushing you. Stay put it is.

“If we ever cross paths again, don’t approach me.”

Yet here he is. Approaching you. Had the compulsion not worked on him? Did he remember you all this time? Well, your answer comes when he walks right by you without sparing a glance as he enters the men’s restroom. You blink a few times, stunned by what took place.

Well, that proves it; the compulsion was still effective. You look at the bloody napkin in your hand, clutching it tightly.

“What, is he blind? He didn’t even ask if I was okay. This is a huge red flag, literally!” You wave the fabric around like a crazed woman, having half a mind to chuck it across the building. After sulking for a minute, you compose yourself and prepare to head back.

That’s when an unpleasant smell creeps its way into your nose. It’s harsh, like the smell of acetone and burnt wood, and you cough uncontrollably. The acrid fumes are suffocating as you wander around the restrooms for the smell.

“It’s coming from the men’s side…” you mumble to yourself.

“When I’m ready, I’ll come to you and you can decide then if you’ll have me.”

Ignore it. It’s not your business. Yet your feet are already stomping inside, where your ex jolts in alarm at your sudden presence.

“Hey, just because you’re a hybrid doesn’t mean smoking is okay!” The cigarette dangles from his mouth when his lips part in a small “o” shape, seconds from falling. You swipe it from him, drop it on the ground, and crush it under your heel. His doe eyes are larger than before, but your actions render him speechless. “It’s a gross habit and causes bad breath. So… yeah. Don’t smoke. Even if you’re practically immortal it’s not good for you.”

You spin around and close your eyes, cringing at your meddlesome behavior. You should leave before things escalate.

“Are you okay?” Your eyes flutter open. He must think you’re deranged! “Your hand… is that blood?”

You look down, noticing the cloth in your hand was no longer white, but a deep crimson that seemed to permeate nonstop.

“Oh, this is nothing. It’ll heal soon.”

He circles and gets in front of you, holding out his hand. “May I take a look?”

Whatever compels you to give your hand to him is a mystery, but you do it. He removes the cloth first, then inspects your palm, concern etched in his features. Blood continues to ooze out of the gash, but all you can focus on is the warmth of his hand enveloping your cold one. It reminds you of holding a hot cup of coffee in the morning except in this case, your cortisol levels are spiking.

“It’s not good for you, you know,” he says with a soft smile. He directs his gaze from his hand to your own. “Getting cuts on such pretty hands. Who did this to you?”

If you had a brain, you didn’t anymore. You feel it short-circuiting, the hints of protectiveness in his voice setting sirens off in your mind. “No one… I accidentally broke a glass.”

It comes out as a whisper, but he acknowledges your response with a gentle “hmm.”

“This won’t do. It’s not healing fast enough,” His eyes shift up to meet your own. “You’re practically dripping in my hand.”

How can he say such things to you with such a straight face? The double entendre is blatant, but calling him out for it would only expose your impure thoughts.

“Shall I clean you up?” You don’t miss how he says “you” and not “it.” His irises glow a ruby red, matching his blood-shot sclera. Protruding veins appear under his eyes as he opens his mouth wide enough to exhibit his sharp fangs. It’s a hauntingly beautiful sight.

“That’s okay, you don’t—you don’t have to.”

“Maybe I want to. Besides… I was smoking to curb my cravings. You took that away, so I need something else to satisfy me.”

You gulp. “And you think my blood will do that?”

He flashes you a smirk. “I’d like to find out. If you’ll let me.”

He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember. Right?

You agree with a soft “okay” and Jungkook doesn’t hold back. He sticks his tongue out, licking up the blood that overflowed onto his thumb first before following the stream up to your palm. He presses his lips onto the gash and sucks, earning a small gasp from you. This catches his attention, and he stares at you. His pupils are dilated, the primal look in his gaze so enrapturing.

The pit of your stomach is on fire as he continues feeding from the palm of your hand. His tongue comes out to play, swiping back and forth, leaving no spot untouched. It tickles, but you’re too tense to move a muscle.

Then he moans. It’s low at first, but then he closes his eyes and does it again. This time it’s more guttural, and he presses harder against you like he was starved.

“Ow,” you say, wincing when his fangs pierce your skin. It coaxes more blood to come out, and he visibly shudders.

“Sorry, I—Fuck,” His breath is uneven as he pants, drunk on your taste. He furrowed his eyebrows like he was mad, fighting against his primal urges to devour you whole. “I’ll be more careful. Please let me finish, please.”

Oh my god. He’s begging you. It’s too adorable to resist. He opens his eyes when you don’t reply, and you quickly give him your consent. His technique, if you can even call it that, grows sloppy as he rushes to clean up the mess he made. It’s like he was embarrassed, which makes your heart grow fonder.

Once he finishes, his lips come together and make a loud smooching sound. He kisses the spot once again, lovingly, and then pulls away. You’re shocked to see the cut is no longer there.

“Delicious. Sweet, with a hint of spice.”

You’re flattered by the handsome blood sommelier but retract your hand, hiding it behind your back while clearing your throat.

“Um… Thank you.” That sounded more lame out loud than in your head, but nothing else seemed appropriate.

Jungkook rubs the excess blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. “It was my pleasure.” He sucks it and then releases his thumb with a loud pop.

Discomfort washes over you with how quiet the restroom gets, but you don’t break the silence. Instead, you turn around and head for the exit.

“You’re [Y/N], right?” Three steps. That’s how far you got. “We were in the same year together.”

You grab onto the chain of your purse again. “Yeah. We were.”

And you leave it at that.

You walk around to ease the buried feelings threatening to bubble up to the surface. Aside from the reception in the garden, the rest of the campus is quiet. Not a single light is on from the buildings you pass, your heels following the moonlight instead.

You pass the library, the gym, and the fine arts hall, but your steps halt at the girls’ dormitory. Memories flood your mind one by one: decorating your room, staying up late studying for exams, and the time when Jungkook slept over and—no. Shit. Don’t think about a love that’s lost.

A weighted sigh comes as you sit on the steps, giving your feet a much-deserved break. You hug your knees, tuck your head down, and rest it in your folded arms as if you wanted to hide from the world. Why the hell did you think coming here would be easy?

His touch lingers in your mind as you replay the moment. The way he held your hand, the way he was concerned for your well-being, and the way he fed off your blood was far more intimate than you expected. Then he said your name.

It ignited a yearning you thought you had suppressed.

“I should leave…” you say out loud to no one in particular.

“And miss the group picture?”

You lift your head slowly like you were caught red-handed committing a heinous crime. You’re greeted by pointed black dress shoes, black dress pants, a white shirt and black blazer, silver necklaces, and soft doe eyes that could melt anyone’s heart.

“Jungkook…”

His eyes light up, a tinge of rouge dancing across his cheeks as he slips his hands into his pockets. “So you do remember me.”

How could I ever forget? “Well yeah… we were in the same year together.”

He scrunches his nose, amused at your usage of his past words. “That’s it? We were sparring partners, we went on missions together, and I’m pretty sure you saved my life by turning me into a hybrid,” Your jaw falls to the ground while his lips curve into a playful grin. “Ring a bell?”

The logistics of your compulsion weren’t specific as to how much Jungkook would remember. Then again, you didn’t erase his memory of your existence, so it’s natural he would remember some basic things.

“Wow, you have a good memory. Um… yeah, I guess that covers the extent of our relationship.”

He quirks his eyebrow, sounding far too happy for your liking as he says, “We… have a relationship?”

You put your hands out in a stop motion and shake them in a panic. “No! Not at all. I–I meant that’s all we are to each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Just old classmates.”

“I see. What a shame though. I feel like we would have… should have gotten to know each other more back then.”

His voice has a trace of longing, but you dismiss it for friendly conversation. “Really? I was too focused on my studies anyway. You wouldn’t have liked me.”

He nods. “Considering how you stomped out my cigarette? Yeah, probably not.”

You scoff, a playful glint in your eyes. “Excuse me for looking out for you.”

“Never asked you to, but I’ll admit, I enjoy the attention.” You both laugh and then he extends his hand out to you. “Come on. Let’s go take the group picture together.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m not fond of pictures. Yoongi and Hobi don’t even know I’m here, so it’s not like they’ll notice.”

“I’ll notice,” You stare at him, watching his smile fade and how serious his demeanor becomes. “Your absence is significant, especially to those who care about you. They’ll remember it for the rest of their lives.”

You are about to speak when he adds, “Besides, the formation is off and we need one more person to fill in the gap.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his hand away and stand. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go.”

He smiles, puts his hands back in his pockets, and leads the way back. You follow him to the garden where guests are lined up in neat, staggered rows. Most of them have their arms crossed, some tapping their feet anxiously, while the rest have their hands on their hips. Even the main couple in the front row are mouthing words you can’t hear, but the way Yoongi slaps a hand to his forehead makes you aware of his distress.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts with a jump, pointing his finger in your direction. “They’re here!”

Everyone expresses their relief with a “thank goodness” or “about time” as you and Jungkook make your way over.

“You found her!” Namjoon says, holding up his hand for a high-five. Jungkook walks by too fast to notice, so you high-five him to ease his embarrassment.

“Wow, is that [Y/N]? You look incredible.” The man next to Namjoon gives you two thumbs up and you smile at the compliment.

“Jin…” You can’t help but hug him tight and he reciprocates. Kim Seokjin aka Jin was the head witch on campus and counselor. You’ve confided in him for years and seeing him again almost brings tears to your eyes.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough.” Yoongi pats Jin’s back, a signal to release his hold on you. You laugh and then embrace him next, earning an obnoxious groan, but the fond smile on his face shows his true emotions. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me.”

You stop hugging him to see Hoseok with his arms out already, his heart-shaped grin wide.

“Come here~,” You let out an “oof” sound from how tight he squeezes you. “We had no idea you were here! Jungkook convinced the cameraman to wait until he found you.”

You let him go and look over to Jungkook, who clears his throat as he looks off to the side. The apples of his cheeks are rosy, which you find endearing.

“Here, stand in the front row next to me,” Hoseok says, gesturing to the spot between him and Jungkook. Jungkook takes a large step to the right, allowing enough space for you to squeeze in.

“Alright, now that we finally have everyone here…” the cameraman says out loud, throwing a harsh glare in your direction. You give him a sheepish grin in return. “Everyone needs to scoot over to my left please.”

The crowd obeys, but the cameraman’s displeased frown remains. “Now everyone needs to squeeze closer together.”

There’s some shuffling and you bump into Hoseok after Jungkook’s shoulder bumps into yours.

“Sorry,” he whispers. You tell him it’s okay.

The cameraman crosses his arms. “Come on, you guys. Act like you like each other! Closer!”

Everyone scooches in again, but Jungkook’s hand brushes against yours. The touch is electrifying, and you forget how to breathe. You can’t process your emotions as the cameraman orders the guests on your side to turn their bodies inwards at an angle. Jungkook exhales and his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You feel your palms start to sweat.

“Three, two, one, smile!” You put on your most picture-perfect smile, the flash nearly blinding you. “One more! This time do a silly pose!”

You observe what others choose for their pose. Bunny ears are common, heart poses are also popular whether using arms or hands. Some stick their tongues out while others fake a dramatic gasp. You shift in your position when your heels betray you and you stumble backward.

As if on cue, a pair of arms catch you and you’re dipped like you’re in a dance class with Jungkook’s face peering down at you. His sweet cologne wafts into your nostrils, a nice blend of amber and rose. These moments only happen in movies — or so you think — yet he’s a fantasy that somehow becomes your reality.

The camera shutters and captures your deer-in-the-headlights expression and Jungkook’s, who mirrors after you. It makes the cameraman let out a hearty laugh, and he’s not sure who the real married couple is.

“Are you okay?”

You nod and he helps you regain stability. Your hand touches your face, feeling the heat radiating off your cheek. The cameraman dismisses everyone and your friends jump at the opportunity to hound you with questions.

Hoseok’s eager to go first. “Whatcha been up to, [Y/N]? It’s been so long since we’ve all been together.”

“Just traveling, not much,” you reply, forcing the muscles in your mouth to cooperate into a believable smile.

“Hey, that’s her business. Don’t be nosy,” Namjoon interjects. Yoongi and Jin give each other a knowing look.

“You’re just saying that because she communicates with you the most,” Jin teases.

“I mean, I was her mentor… can’t help it if I’m her favorite.” He pats his puffed-out chest twice, proud as he winks at you. You giggle and Yoongi joins in the conversation.

“Okay, if anyone’s her favorite, it’s actually me. But anyway,” he tilts his head towards the bar, “help yourself to a drink.”

“Ooh, I will. Do you have any recommendations?” you ask.

“Do you want something strong? Fruity?”

“Get her what Jungkook got,” Namjoon says. Jungkook stands off to the side, his jaw clenches at his name being mentioned. “You like peach-flavored things, right?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Because he told me…” He notices the group shooting glares at him like daggers. It reminds you of when an idol spoils their next comeback by accident. “... Told me it was delicious and that anyone would like it. It goes down smoothly. Very yummy. Hah. Hahaha! Is that a saxophone?”

He leaves the group in a hurry with Jin chasing after him yelling, “No! Leave the sax alone! I’m not paying for damages!”

Awkward glances are exchanged between Hoseok and Yoongi, a silent two-player game of telepathy you weren’t a part of. You can’t compel Hoseok, but Yoongi’s human. One look and you’d know what he was thinking, but that’d be highly inappropriate to do that to the groom at his wedding.

“I’ll order my own,” you tell the couple and they wave goodbye. Jungkook’s already retreated to his friends, much to your relief.

Once you’re at the outdoor bar, your mood lifts upon seeing the bartender. She puts down the glass she was drying and rests her hands on the countertop.

“Well if it isn’t the original hybrid queen herself.”

The bartender is young, her oval face and sharp jawline giving her a cute, handsome aura. Her hair is short, about shoulder-length, and straight. Her eyes are large, emphasized by her dramatic makeup to draw you in until you’re lost in them.

“Hi, Ryujin. Wow, I haven’t seen you in forever.” She had a white shirt underneath her black vest; you think it suits her tom-boyish charms well.

“Since vampire ability class, I know. What can I get you, beautiful?”

The smirk she sends you has your nerves sparking, and the palms of your hands sweaty. It was different when a girl complimented you. It felt more believable, flattering even.

You shrug in response to maintain a calm demeanor. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe something fruity? Citrusy?”

She nods, grabbing a shaker and a bottle of liquor under the counter straight away. You watch as she juggles the two items in the air, covering your mouth at the thought of gravity ruining her trick. However, she caught them both with ease, moving at such a fast speed as she concocted your beverage. It’s an elegant performance, her movements fluid like it’s an art. She finishes by topping off your glass with an orange slice.

“Here you go,” She slides the glittery pink drink over, and you take a sip, allowing the fruity taste to coat your tongue. “Matches your dress.”

You smile at the thoughtful gesture. “It’s good. Tastes like peaches and grapefruit. What’s it called?”

“It’s something I came up with. I wouldn’t mind sharing the recipe with you after the event’s over.”

You don’t miss the flirty tone in her words and can only laugh. She was so refreshing and has always stuck up for you in the past when others called you stuck-up for being a hybrid. Who knew she would end up flirting with you at a wedding years later?

“So? What do you say?” she asks, her eyes brimming with hope. You take another drink and finish the whole thing despite your shaky hands. She gives you a fond smile. “If I’m being too forward, tell me.”

“No, I’m just nervous,” you blurt out, setting the glass down. “You’re really pretty.”

“Is that so?”

You’re about to respond when you feel your temperature rise. You clasp a hand to your forehead, which goes from warm to scalding in seconds. Sweat beads form around your temples as your breathing becomes harsher. You rest your elbow on the counter to keep yourself balanced, but your legs are burning too. It was like someone lit a torch from beneath you, cooking your flesh inside out.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Ryujin asks. You shake your head and your vision blurs, the lights behind her looking like a bokeh image. She hands a bottle of water to you, and you gulp it down, yet the fever persists and you feel worse.

Ryujin sees your eyes widen in alarm as you peer down at your dress. She inspects it too, but doesn’t see anything abnormal. You rub your thighs together.

“Fuck… I think I’m in heat,” you tell her. Your hand rummages through your purse and then you curse again, frustrated. “I’m out of suppressants!”

Ryujin snaps her fingers when a lightbulb goes off in her head. “Ask Lia.”

“Good idea.”

You blink to wet your eyes, regaining clarity of your surroundings before heading to Lia on the dance floor. She was all smiles with a guy until you bumped into her, your darn heels being the bane of your existence.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” you quickly say, “I need your help.”

She takes one look, excuses herself, and brings you to a quieter space. Her hand reaches into her clutch and pulls out a lace handkerchief, dabbing the sweat off your forehead. Her touch is gentle and she asks quietly, “Are you in heat?”

Lia and Ryujin were best friends. Your sole encounters with her were because of Ryujin by extension, but even back then, you knew she was sweet. Wolves often looked down upon her because of her doll-like, docile appearance. However, she had enough balls to find friends in other cliques and was, what people say, a girl’s girl.

“Yes, I feel like I’m dying. Ryujin told me to ask if you have suppressants.”

“I don’t. Do you not track your cycle?”

“I’m a hybrid! It’s random for me!”

She grimaces, the pity in her eyes inevitable. “I’m sorry, I forgot. But you need to get out of here. Do you know how many horny young wolves are here with zero self-restraint?”

You shift your weight and a pool of discharge releases in your panties, the sticky sensation making you cringe. Lia brings out a travel-sized perfume spray and spritzes your entire body. A wheeze is forced out of you from the potent floral scent, but at least it will cover your pheromones long enough for a distraction.

“Hey everyone! The fireworks are starting soon, let’s go to the front of the school and watch!” Hoseok has his hands cupped around his mouth to carry his voice through the venue, catching the attention of all guests. Lia holds both your hands, looking you dead in the eye with a straight face.

“There. Use this time to find suppressants or get out of here. The perfume won’t last very long.”

“Thanks, Lia, I will.”

While the crowd heads towards the front, you rush back to the restroom building. You’re a panting mess once inside, but you go into a stall, shut it, and pull down your undergarment. The fabric is soaked in slick and has a hefty weight—you have no choice but to discard it.

Grabbing toilet paper, you clean yourself up as best as you can. Then you step out, wash your hands, and exit the building.

“Hey there.” You almost topple backward from the sudden intrusion. Three guys are in front of you, all wearing the same, smug grin. They’re young, probably younger than you, but one thing’s for sure—they’re werewolves.

There’s a particular scent that emits from wolves. It’s earthy, like a pine tree, and you’d usually find it comforting but now? Fear crawls up your spine like a spider has latched onto you, its legs creeping up your back in a spot you can’t smack away.

The one in the middle had greeted you first. He has a youthful face, and sculpted cheekbones, which are easy on the eyes. Speaking of, that was his most striking feature. They are almost cat-like (ironically) with how wide and long they are.

“Are you lost? Everyone’s watching the fireworks,” he says, his thumb hiked over his shoulder. You don’t respond. “Ah, I’m Yeonjun. This is Beomgyu and that’s Soobin.”

Soobin is the tallest. He shows off his dimple smile upon being introduced, which seems pure, but the way his irises shifted to goldenrod says otherwise. Beomgyu, on the other hand, had the most innocent baby face you’ve ever seen. However, you don’t miss the way he licks his lips while giving you a once-over.

“I’m [Y/N]...” You don’t know why you give them your name, but it slips out. Maybe you hoped playing along would lead them to spare you.

“Oh!” Soobin says, his index finger pointing up at the discovery. “You’re the original hybrid the professors rave about!”

“Half-vampire, half-werewolf, right?” Beomgyu asks. Your double moon necklace glows as you form your fingers into a claw shape behind your back. A small flame ignites and you hold it there, waiting for the right opportunity.

“Yeah. I guess,” you say. “Why don’t you boys go watch the fireworks? I’ll catch up.”

“Nonsense! As gentlemen, we should escort you. Unless… you’d rather do something else. Here. Now.” Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, but you scowl in response.

“No thanks.”

Soobin takes a step forward. “Is there anything else we can help you with?”

Beomgyu takes two. “I’m sure the three of us can be of use to you.”

It’s not until Yeonjun approaches you that you cower, stepping backward until you’re stopped by the water fountains. “No need to be shy. No one’s around.”

Your blood is boiling, though you’re not sure if it’s from your heat or rage. What’s worse is you’re not mad at them; you’re mad at yourself. Their words spurred you on as arousal drips down your thighs, a sign of your body’s betrayal. You fear if this escalates, they’ll figure out you’re not wearing anything underneath.

“Get. Back.” You reveal the burning flame in your palm, the heat emanating off of it close enough to Yeonjun’s face. He jumps back and places a hand on his chest.

“Whoa! She’s feisty. Or should I say… fiery.”

“Maybe we should head back. She can do magic. I thought hybrids don’t know magic,” Soobin whispers. Yeonjun laughs at the ridiculous suggestion, shoving his friend for his cowardice as Beomgyu inspects him for injuries.

“Doesn’t matter. Look at her state now.” He points in your direction, seeing how you’re barely able to stand. Your breaths are quick, shallow and your heart is thumping around like it’s going to burst out of your rib cage. The fire in your hand diminishes to a mere flicker, and then it’s out. You try to bring it back with the flick of a wrist, but all that emits are tiny sparks. Shit. I haven’t been practicing long enough.

Your womanhood is craving something, anything to alleviate the agony. It’s screaming for release, and you hold your abdomen as a sudden cramp pains you horribly. Human females experience this type of thing monthly and you have to hand it to them. This type of pain requires endurance and fucking sucks.

You fall onto all fours, clutching your heart which is seconds away from bursting. It’s beating so loud, you can’t even hear the vulgar things the youngins are saying as they rush over. Soobin grabs your right arm; Yeonjun has the other.

You thrash in their clutches, but they only mock you with their boisterous laughter as they force you to your feet.

“Hey, hey! We’re just trying to help,” Soobin says.

“Unless you’d rather be on all fours,” Yeonjun teases. Beomgyu bends down to your eye level, a crooked smile on his dainty face, the true embodiment of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“You’re pure temptation, you know that?” He leans close, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispers, “Give up. Don’t put up a fight.”

“I don’t consent,” you say, a harsh bite in your words.

Soobin squeezes your arm, almost crushing it in his large hands. “Why? Is it because we’re young?”

“It’s clear you’re horny… we are too. Come on,” Beomgyu pleads. “We’ll take good care of you. Teach us what you like.”

“Yeah. And we’ll do the same.” Yeonjun holds your hand, inspecting it closely. “So soft. I bet your hand would feel so good around my—“

“Get your hands off her before I bite them off.”

Dizziness overwhelms you, so all you see is a blurry figure behind Beomgyu, and you shake your head to come to your senses. Once the man’s face comes into focus, relief washes over you, sending signals for your brain to let down your guard. The energy you so desperately clung to has depleted, so you close your eyes as your limbs turn into jelly.

Five seconds pass and the boys’ hold on you is gone. Someone else catches you before you faint, his scent familiar and comforting.

“I got you,” he says as he lets you lean against his body.

“Jungkook…”

“Can you stand?” You don’t know but nod anyway. “Good. Get behind me. You don’t want to see this.”

His broad back shields you from the three wolves, so you don’t even see the damage he inflicted upon them. Yeonjun was thrown into a tree a hundred feet away, the impact so potent that it split in half. Soobin and Beomgyu were fortunate not to collide into anything after being catapulted… except for each other.

Soobin lands on top of Beomgyu and the smaller boy groans, pushing him off in a huff. He stands first and helps Soobin after.

“Hey, we didn’t do anything wrong!” Yeonjun shouts as he scrambles to his feet, flaring his nostrils. “You and I both know she’s a bitch in heat!”

You cling onto Jungkook’s blazer, and he looks over his shoulder.

“Is he right?” You don’t know if he asks to be polite because even you can smell your essence leaking. You hide your face in his back, flustered, but he feels you nod.

He redirects his attention back to the wolves. “That doesn’t give you the right to touch her. I suggest you leave before I make it physically impossible.”

Soobin scoffs while Beomgyu rolls his eyes. Yeonjun’s fuse was already lit and Jungkook’s sure there’s smoke coming out of his ears. You hear him crack his knuckles, the silence that follows deafening as you hold your breath in anticipation.

“It’s three against two. Well, three against one, really,” Soobin says, laughing like he’s already won.

“All I see is three smooth-brained pups who are pissing me off.” Jungkook’s eyes shift to a fiery goldenrod, the corner of his lips twitching as he smirks. “You’re aware that [Y/N] isn’t the only hybrid… right?”

You don’t see it, but their faces pale in comparison to earlier. Beomgyu covers his mouth, Soobin’s eyes widen, and Yeonjun growls.

“There were rumors about more than one hybrid existing, but I didn’t think they were true,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone.

“She turned him? Fuck, they’re bonded then,” Soobin says. Yeonjun waves him off in a dismissive manner.

“I don’t give a fuck. She’s not marked. We can take them.”

Jungkook has his fists up and changes into a fighter stance, but he feels you press your forehead against his back. It’s a searing sensation that scorches him even through the two layers of fabric he had on. He turns around and holds you by the shoulders.

“Hey, stay with me,” he begs. Your head is lolling back and forth as if you were inebriated.

“It’s so hot… I’m too hot… I hate this, I hate this. Please… I need to cool down,” you beg. Jungkook takes a peek at the time on his watch, then bites his lower lip.

“Okay,” he whispers. “When I count to three, I need you to hold your breath. Can you do that for me?”

You mumble something Jungkook believes is a “yes” based on the beginning /y/ sound.

“Three… two…”— he looks up —“one!”

A firework shoots up into the night sky, painting it with an explosive rainbow of sparkles. You cover your sensitive ears, but make sure to hold your breath as Jungkook uses his enhanced speed to whisk you away. More fireworks go off, muffling your tracks and making the youngins work harder to find you.

However, Jungkook’s skills are unmatched. He sprints to the side of the school where the mountains are, and they follow suit. At the last second, he pivots and heads to the secluded area on the opposite side, where the lake is.

The last memory you had here was something you blocked out to spare your mental health. You had almost died. But now this place was going to save you, funny enough. If you think about it, the lake had more happy memories than bad. This was where Namjoon trained you before you trained Jungkook.

You can picture it now as if it was yesterday. He, a newly turned werewolf, scared of what’s to come in his new life, and you, the school prodigy who had a crush on him.

Jungkook jumps off the dock with you in his arms, the splash overshadowed by the firework’s detonation. The cool water refreshes your sweltering body as you close your eyes, submitting to it. For a moment you don’t care about anything. Not how your makeup is smeared, how your curls are undone, or how your dress is ruined.

You feel strong arms hold you close, and an overwhelming sense of longing hits you in the gut. God, you missed him so much. Even without his memories, he still cares for you. Hell, he went out of his way to protect you.

Just when your lungs are on the verge of giving out, you’re pulled up to the surface. Your eyes flutter open as you rub the water off your face. Jungkook coughs, then cups your face with both hands.

“Are you okay?”

You take in his appearance for what feels like an eternity. His brown eyes twinkle from the moonlight, so beautiful and full of worry. You find it amusing how his hair is stuck to his forehead, the strands partially obstructing his view. Your hand pushes it out of the way without thinking like muscle memory, causing his breath to hitch.

“Thanks to you.”

Fireworks are still going off in the distance, illuminating you two in the crystal-clear water. Jungkook slowly removes his hands from you.

“Good. I um… don’t hear them anymore. They must’ve left. And the water should keep your scent hidden for now.”

“That’s a relief.” Jungkook places the back of his hand against your forehead but retracts it quickly as if he touched a hot stove.

“Ow, oh my god. You’re still burning up!”

How naive were you to think it’d be over? You’ve experienced this once before, but that was with your first ex, who was at your beck and call for sex whenever you needed it. You couldn’t ask that of Jungkook. Not after everything that’s happened.

“I’ll figure something out. You’ve done a lot for me already and your clothes are wet.”

“I don’t give a damn about my clothes. Tell me how I can help you.”

*BOOM*

A red heart-shaped firework went off as you two stared at each other. Your gaze flickers from his eyes to his luscious lips and he doesn’t miss it. Maybe you don’t want him to.

“Why do you want to help me? We… We’re not that close.”

“Well… the thing is… I-I just…” He is so freakin’ cute. You might die from how endearing he is before your heat destroys you first. “Because.”

“Because?”

*BOOM*

“Because it’s finally just you and me.”

His answer is simple. There shouldn’t be any underlying connotations and yet, it reminds you of a past conversation.

“We’re in this together. You and me. Okay?”

“Is it really you and me…”

“What do you mean?”

“Will it ever be? Just you and me?”

“Now tell me what you need. Use me.”

Your pussy is throbbing so much that it’s agonizing. You just need a quick release, then you’ll be sane enough to go home without collapsing.

“This feels…” So right, you think. “Wrong.”

His hands sneak around your waist. “Then let’s misbehave.”

He hoists you up onto the edge of the dock without warning as if you weigh nothing, and a grunt leaves his lips. It’s far too sexy to ignore, and your mind craves to hear it again. Then he places his hands on either side of your thighs and pulls himself up halfway out of the water, his face now directly in front of yours.

“Tell me what you need. How can I please you?”

Fuck. You bite your lower lip when you realize the dock isn’t that tall—he’s at the perfect height to carry out the desires you’ve been suppressing. “I need to come…”

A water droplet falls off his button nose when he chuckles. “How do you want to come?”

You stare at his lips, which are thin yet plump at the same time, his lower lip being the bigger half. You think back to earlier when he sucked your palm.

“I want you to eat me out…”

He moves fast, almost like he knew what you’d say. His grip on the dock loosens, and he plops back into the lake but grabs your ankles, pulling you forward until your bottom is perched on the very edge. He spreads your thighs and rests his head between them, looking up at you like you were worth the entire universe.

“Why don’t you lift your dress for me, gorgeous?”

You’re unsure what’s louder — the fireworks or your heart rate. If he keeps speaking to you in that low dialect, you may come right now. Your fingers bunch up the fabric at the hem and you slowly pull it up, exposing your pussy to his feasting eyes.

“Fuck, what a beautiful pussy.”

You take two fingers and glide it up your folds, coating it in your slick. Jungkook watches, unsure of what you are going to do next. You lean forward, cupping his face with your other hand with a naughty glint in your eyes.

“Open.” He obliges, and you stick your coated fingers in his mouth. A muffled groan comes out as he sucks your fingers, his tongue swirling around so nothing goes to waste. “Good boy.”

You remove your fingers and he’s practically drooling, his eyes a bit crazed from your addictive taste.

“Please let me pleasure you, please.”

You don’t answer and run a hand through his damp hair, stopping at the back to grip it tight as you guide his head closer to where you need him most. He peers up at you adoringly when you hold him an inch away.

“Please me then.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His tongue licks a stripe on your sopping cunt, earning a shudder from you. Your thighs squeeze his head like a reflex, which only spurs him on to press his mouth harder against you. He begins to lap up your juices like a dog and you throw your head back, moaning at how insanely good it felt.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer if possible, the tight hold giving him a tinge of pain that ignites his carnal desires. He slurps your pussy like it was his last meal on death row, slithering his arms underneath your knees and holding your thighs hostage. You don’t know which noise was most obscene—your moaning or Jungkook’s.

Sneaking your free hand down, you use your forefinger and middle finger to spread your pussy lips wider. Jungkook’s excited and sinks his tongue as deep as it would go. You’re impatient now, riding his face as he tongue-fucks you.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me, yes—oh god…” You don’t have it in you to say anything more coherent except for broken moans. Jungkook pauses for a second, and you whine at the loss of contact. Then you’re being stretched out as his two fingers submerge into you, nearly knocking the breath out of you.

You lean back on your forearms as he begins to piston them into you, your wetness making it easy—too easy even. They slip out when he speeds up, and he makes up for it by eating you out and sinking his fingers back in simultaneously.

You’re shaking, unable to hold yourself up any longer. Your back rests on the wooden planks as Jungkook flicks your clit with his tongue, his fingers drilling into you at a brutal speed and brushing your sweet spot.

You see the last of the fireworks show go off, a beautiful explosion of silver sparkles and stars, as your orgasm finally comes. You arch your back and scream, but Jungkook doesn’t slow down. He can feel how tight your walls are constricting around his fingers and knows you need a few more seconds of bliss to be fully satisfied.

Overstimulation was always a gamble. If pushed too far, you’d be in pain. But most of the time you welcome it. One second you want the pleasure to stop building, but then you crave that ache of clenching so hard until your body gives out.

Jungkook stops again. This time he pulls himself out of the water completely and hovers over your body. His fingers plunge into you again, his speed relentless, and you swear you’re seeing stars (or maybe that’s the fireworks who knows). Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you say his name like a mantra.

“Come for me, beautiful. I want you dripping in my hand again.”

Your eyes are wide when warm lips are pressed against your own. But you submit and savor it, having missed his touch. Combining that with the way he curls his fingers inside makes you squirt. Hard.

Your entire body convulses and you can’t even scream because Jungkook is determined to swallow them. The limitation only makes you come harder than before. Then again, you’re not sure if this is a second orgasm or a drawn-out first one.

The involuntary gushing is an indescribable sudden wave of pleasure. You feel so relieved from the release, pushed to tears at how good it felt. Jungkook pulls away a centimeter to let you breathe, and you submit to the foreign feeling.

Oh my god, he made me squirt. I didn’t even know that was possible.

He pulls his soaked fingers out and resumes kissing you, moving his lips in rhythm to yours. It’s so natural, almost like he’s done this before. Well, he has, but it felt so right. So loving. So… intimate.

You place a hand on his chest and give him a gentle push. He pulls back a little, a melancholy look passing his face.

“Will you stay?”

You can’t. He’s not supposed to be tangled up with you again. You erased his love for you for a reason; it wasn’t the right time. Any decisions made till now were because of your heat and your brain was finally back in command.

“I can’t.”

He caresses your cheek. “Why not?”

Because I’m not ready to love you the way you deserve. Because I love you so much that I’m afraid things will fall apart again.

“Because we don’t know each other,” You push him off you and stand, trying not to slip. Jungkook’s hands were already in position to catch you if you did. “Not really.”

As you walk away, he says something so chilling that it crystalizes your blood into ice. “You’re running away again.”

You refuse to turn around. “It’s my choice.”

“What about my choice and what I want? Do you not care?” He stands up and tightens his fists. “Are you leaving for good this time?”

This… time? He doesn’t remember. He can’t remember.

“Goodbye, Jungkook.”

He watches as your figure grows smaller in the distance. His head hangs low and he fights back tears. You’ve made it clear what you want. He had to let you go.

A/N: I am currently writing part 2, don't worry! It's a long one, lol. This was also my first time writing in present tense. Loved it. I hope you enjoyed it too. Thank you for giving my writing a chance. 🥰

#ggukienet #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #my scenarios

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