#so... no time was wasted. and I was doing what I like to do? so I guess it's ok...

[kooktrash]

infrunami ✮ jeon jungkook

summary: you’ve made great friends throughout the years but none like jeon jungkook. he’s there for you when you need him and although at times when things get complicated between your feelings and thoughts… there’s one thing for certain. you both have been wasting time acting like there’s nothing between you.

✮ genre/au: friends to lovers. y/n[afab, she/her] x best friend jungkook

✮ 18.7k

warnings: smut. f2l. slice of life. besties jk and y/n. slight jealousy vibes. idiots to lovers. lot of sexual tension. everyone knows they like each other. for the smut [no protection sorry yall]. heavy makeout. slight dry humping. grinding. doggy style. soft dom vibes jk. whiny y/n. jk gets jealous but never admits it. they both talk to other people bc they’re in denial.

song inspo: infrunami—steve lacy, my kind of woman—mac de marco, no. 1 party anthem—arctic monkeys, love between—kali uchis

Friendships in your twenties, you’ve learned, come in various forms.

There were people you’ve known since you were a teen and people you’ve only just met. Some who know everything about you and some who only get a piece of you. You’ve got the ones you meet up with on a random Thursday to run an errand because you haven't seen each other in so long—and you have the ones who seem to always be knocking on your door. Having people who wanted to be around you was one of the best things you’ve ever experienced.

“You’re late.”

He raised his shoulders in a shrug as he picked up the helmet that was strapped onto the back of a black motorcycle, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Part of you gave up on acting upset as you let him slip the helmet over your head. You took his backpack off his shoulders and shoved your things inside before putting it on your back.

“Thanks for the ride,” You hooked a leg over the seat, straddling the bike as you fixed yourself up behind him. The helmet fit snugly around your head and you held him around the waist comfortably, “I’ll buy you a meal.”

“You promise?” Jungkook asked with a teasing smile as he kicked up the stand and brought the engine to life, “I’m craving steak.”

“Just don’t break my pocket,” You patted him softly, checking your phone one last time, “I swear if they don’t give me my car back I’m going to throw a fit.”

“Maybe next time don’t park in a restricted area,” He said lastly, driving off with youn. Your friendship with Jungkook was different from the others. He was your best friend.

Not in the way Mirae was or even Taehyung but he was up there. He’s the one you’d have knocking on your door because he’s bored or bothering you during the middle of the night. He’s also the one you call because you know he’ll answer.

You don’t remember exactly how you two met but it was some time during college, an after party maybe? Campus? Not likely. He was infamous for never showing up. Whatever, it was beyond the point. The point is that somewhere along the way you made friends with an overly clingy man who spent too much time at the gym or gaming in his bedroom when he wasn’t at work.

No, you’re not dating him nor do you want to. He’s kind of just… your overly good looking friend who would do anything for you.

“I forgot my lunch at home so I’m starving,” Jungkook pushed past you to get inside the small barbecue place he dragged you to. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and follow. He’s taken his backpack back to set it on the chair next to his and you sat across from him. It was a familiar place to eat and the menus took up an unnecessary amount of space so he took them both without question.

“What if I wanted to try something new?” You asked with a slight scoff, pretending to be annoyed but he saw right through it.

“You don’t, you’re too picky. You’re just going to get the same thing you always get,” Jungkook said with another shrug before giving you a menu back anyway, “But fine, browse a little.”

“Chill on the attitude,” You joked, looking over the menu with disinterest.

“How do either of you manage to be here at least once a week?” The server grumbled as he approached the table, “And that’s on a good week.”

“Hey, I haven’t been here in like, four days?” You said, second guessing yourself and looking at your friend, “He’d live here everyday if he could.”

“True, Jin is one of the best cooks I know,” Jungkook confessed, making your server roll his eyes.

“Please, Jin’s rarely here since the new place opened up but don’t worry, I’ll pretend to believe you,” he snatched the menus away from you both, “And like you don’t get the ‘Family & Friends’ discount. What’ll it be? The usual?”

Jungkook turned to you with an amused expression, eyebrows raised as he waited to hear your new order. He even had the nerve to rest his chin in the palm of his hand and the server waited with a bored expression.

You sunk into your seat, “The usual.”

“Damn, we should’ve bet on it,” Jungkook grimaced as he took his phone out of his pocket to scroll through his socials, “So how was the meeting? It took a while didn’t it?”

“Don’t even get me started on it, I can already tell they’re going to be a handful. I might pass them onto Mirae,” You told him honestly, “She can handle them better than I could.”

“It’s because you’re hot headed,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He felt your hard stare and he couldn’t help but smirk, “You know you are.”

“Says the guy who almost got into a fight because of Overwatch,” you threw your straw wrapper at him but he caught it and chucked it back at you.

“First of all we were in a tournament and I could’ve won some money,” Jungkook said defensively, “Any sane person would react the same way.”

You raised your brows pretending to be convinced and stared off into space. After your meal and you footed the bill like promised, Jungkook drove you to your apartment.

“Let me know if you need a ride to the garage tomorrow,” Jungkook said as he took the helmet back and you retrieved your things from his backpack.

“What are your plans tonight?” You asked curiously as he got back on his bike.

“I don’t know, a friend of mine asked me to go have drinks with him so I’ll probably do that,” He told you honestly, “Why? Wanna watch ’Love, Death & Robots’ again?”

“Just curious, be safe and don’t drive,” You reminded him.

A grin widened on his face, “Will you pick me up if I drink too much—oh right, you don’t have a car… awkward.”

“Asshole,” you hit him playfully, making him sway but he kept himself steady.

“I’ll call for an Uber or something, night.”

There’s not a specific moment that made you and Jungkook become good friends. You sort of just clicked right away. In the beginning there might’ve been a slight tinge of attraction but it was the kind you felt for a stranger walking past. It wasn’t anything either of you wanted to pursue and ended with a good friendship. You learned a lot from each other and somehow managed to co-exist together.

In the beginning nearly all of his friends thought you were into him. They tried to put it into his head that you had a thing for him but it never went anywhere. Jungkook never made a move on you and after a while everyone just accepted it.

This is what friendship looked like. You didn’t have to sleep with each other. You were like one of the guys… aside from the obvious. Now everyone just takes you as you are, a good friend of his with no sexual feelings involved.

“You just got off work?” Yoongi asked as Jungkook finally joined him at the bar, “I thought I was going to have to drink enough for the both of us tonight.”

“Don’t you wish,” Jungkook chuckled, taking a seat and the drink his friend ordered for him, “But no, I was having dinner and had to drive Y/n home.”

“Oh, how is she? Haven’t seen her in a while,” Yoongi asked.

“Her car got Towed at my apartment for parking in someone’s spot a couple days ago. She’s pissed,” Jungkook answered knowingly, “But she’ll survive. What’d you ask me over here for?”

“Oh, I’m talking to this girl who’ll be here soon and she’s got a friend with her.”

✮

Two hundred dollars down the drain all because you parked somewhere you weren’t supposed to. It puts you in a bad mood for a couple days. You weren’t necessarily short on cash but that didn’t mean you wanted to waste it to get your car back.

“Don’t touch me I’m sad,” You mumbled into your desk as your coworker hovered a hand over your back ready to comfort you.

“You didn’t get it back?” Jimin asked, opting to sit on the edge of your desk instead.

“I did, that’s why I’m sad,” You nearly cried, “I’m never staying at anyone’s apartment but mine ever again. It’s too expensive and there’s never enough parking anywhere.”

“Poor you, I know what’ll cheer you up though,” Jimin said with a scheming smile that had your head raising skeptically, “You, Mirae and I out for dinner and a couple drinks after work.”

“I’m pretty sure I just said how much money I spent!” You rolled your eyes making him do the same.

“I’ll pay, silly,” Jimin said, “You look like you could use a drink.”

You were a victim of peer pressure, and for pressure you needed very little of it. All it took was both of your friends reminding you how much fun it would be before the FOMO set in and you joined them.

“You’re so easily persuaded,” Mirae said with a laugh, “Min didn’t even have to beg this time.”

“I’m going through a tough time right now,” You said playfully, reaching across the table for another portion of fries, “Thanks for taking those clients.”

“Yeah yeah, but if I need any favor you better be the first one to grant it,” Mirae pointed a stern finger at you and you nodded eagerly.

“One Wish coupon with your name written on it, noted,” You tapped your head a couple times before shooting her a Thumb’s Up. Your coworker [turned close friend] rolled her eyes with a smile as she raised her glass, “Ready to chug?”

“Oh fuck no,” Jimin groaned, staring down his nearly full glass, “Are we drinking-drinking or are we drinking?”

“Baddie Baddie Shot O’Clock,” you nudge his arm, “Don’t be scared now. You asked for this.”

“We have work tomorro—fuck it, let’s do it,” Jimin said while you and Mirae began a chant ready to take the drink.

There were a couple… a few drinks involved for all of you. It was supposed to be something casual but that never seems to be the case when you’re with your work friends. They’re a good time all the time and sometimes a nice break. Aside from Jungkook, they're some of your closest friends. They know you in a different light than he does. With Mirae you can talk to her about anything and with Jimin he‘s a good time. He doesn’t tease or scold you the way Jungkook does… he lets you have fun.

Not to say Jungkook doesn’t but it’s different and you don’t know how to explain why.

jungkook: hungryyyyyyyyy

jungkook: hungryyyyyyy

jungkook: HUNGRYYYY

you: lower your voice smh

“Is that Jungkook?” Jimin asked, stealing a fry for your plate, “What’s he doing? Ask him to meet us.”

“No, I’m mad at him,” You said with a huff, thinking about the expensive towing bill. You weren’t actually mad at him but more about the price you paid today. Jungkook is the one who told you it was fine to park there and the one night you do, your car gets towed. It’s never happened before and it’s technically his fault. His stupid landlord is an asshole and therefore you’re never stepping foot at his place again.

you: and actually I’m mad at you

jungkook: 🤓 why

you: 200$ 😞

jungkook: :(

you: you better buy me a spot if you want me to come over again

jungkook: hell no

You put your phone face down and looked at your empty glass, wiggling your brows at your two friends, “Another?”

jungkook: hungrryyyyy

Jimin rolled his eyes even as he let you go to the bar and order more. While you were gone he got on his phone and began to type. Mirae looked over his shoulder, “Who are you calling?”

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook knew Jimin well enough to have his number saved. They weren’t close but he’s met him around you before and the guy’s cool. When he called Jungkook assumed it had something to do with you and answered.

“Hey man, what are you doing?”

“Starving,” Jungkook groaned, staring at his empty fridge, “You?”

“Come to JJ’s, Y/n is here and we’re having a few drinks. There’s some food,” Jimin said as he looked up at you.

“Jungkook’s on his way,” Jimin told you once the call came to an end but you barely shrugged in response.

When Jungkook arrived you greeted him like normal and he bumped you further into the booth before immediately digging into your plate. He even had the nerve to ask which drink was yours before taking it, “I haven’t eaten all day.”

“Why do I feel like that’s a lie?” Jimin asked, trying to pass Jungkook the menu so he could order something for himself, “How are ya, buddy?”

“Alright, busy with work,” Jungkook said with a shrug, “It’s been back to back sessions lately and I think I need a break.”

“Have you been going to the chiropractor?” You asked worriedly. Jungkook sneered, turning to look at you, “I thought you were mad at me.”

Your jaw nearly dropped as you scoffed. He’s here eating your food and giving you attitude? It’s obvious he’s joking but it’s annoying. You crossed your arms over your chest and slumped back, “You’re here eating my food, asshole. Fine I won’t talk to you then.”

“I have been going to the chiro,” Jungkook says to you, “Thanks for worrying.”

“I wasn’t worrying,” You rolled your eyes looking across the table at Mirae as Jungkook and Jimin talked like they were good friends.

“Okay I know what I’m using my wish coupon on,” Mirae said suddenly, “You’re going with me to the movies.”

“Yay, what are we watching?” You asked more interested now.

“I don’t know. The guys haven’t chosen the movie yet,” Mirae said as she got on her phone and went to add you to a groupchat.

“What guys?” Jimin asked curiously, making Jungkook turn to look as well.

“My friend’s boyfriend and his friends,” Mirae explained briefly, “They've been wanting to go see this horror movie but it always feels awkward when I tag along with her, her man and his friends.”

“Sounds like a group date,” Jungkook said to you, watching your excitement slowly turn to dejection and for some reason it made his heart beat faster.

“It kinda does,” You agreed.

“It’s not like that. They’re actually kind of cool but I still want someone to talk to,” Mirae told you, “They’re cute.”

“Let me see a picture,” You reached out for her phone.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Jungkook asked Jimin who aggressively shook his head no.

“Not since the last one, I think she broke my heart,” Jimin pretended to sniffle, “You?”

“Nah, kinda? No,” Jungkook shook his head, “Whatever it is, it's nothing serious.”

“It’s never serious,” You corrected, “I don’t know how he keeps track of them all.”

“Don’t make me out to be a slut,” Jungkook placed his hand over his chest. Easy banter went on for the rest of the night. It was casual and comforting to spend time with those close to you on a random week night. It reminded you of how good things can be and why you liked being with them. Jimin was fun, careless, considerate. Mirae is full of welcomed attitude and charm. Jungkook is comfortable and protective, always around and ready to meet up for anything. They made things feel easy.

When you date a guy you want him to fit in with your friends and that is hard to find.

✮

Jungkook has always been a laid back guy. Despite whatever struggles he’s had, he’s always taken them with a strong head on his shoulders and people to support him. He comes from a loving family and close friends he’s known for years. He’s been in relationships and talking stages that changed him and did his military service as early as he could. He had a plan for himself and when he decided to go to college he didn’t expect to meet you.

It’s not like you had a huge impact on him or anything but he didn’t expect to meet someone he can get along with so easily. He thought he already had his lifelong friends picked out. How did you manage to force your way into his close circle and introduce to people and things he wouldn’t have known otherwise.

You’re his best friend and don’t let any of the guys hear him admit that. They already give him too much shit about you.

“Are you going for Y/n?” His friend asked a few days after he met up with you and your friends for dinner. He’s been up to his usual routine during the week and has barely gotton to see or talk to you.

Jungkook and his friend just had a two hour gym session that left them both jittery and out of breath as they sat in the locker room packing up their belongings. He pulled his helmet out and carried it next to him as he shook his head no, “I’m not driving her around anymore.”

“She got her car back? That’s good,” Taehyung said. You didn’t have it for almost a full week and during that time Jungkook was helping you get to and from work. Since then you’ve had your car and haven’t had a reason to call him up—not that it mattered or anything.

“Wanna get on the game later?” He asked.

“Sure, I’ll shower and have dinner then hop on.”

The two split ways and Jungkook got on his bike to rush home. His evenings didn’t contain much excitement as they did during his college days but they were alright. He’d do exercises after work, head home and wash up, make dinner or go out, and hang out. If he was seeing someone it would look slightly different but he doesn’t usually let it get that far.

It’s not that he’s scared of commitment or anything, he just doesn’t feel the need to be dating at the moment. He’s perfectly content with the way he lives and if he were to get serious with anyone it would have to be someone who understands him. Yes, he does the occasional hook up or fling but they’re never more than that. He’s bad at seriously dating. He’s got to feel truly comfortable with someone.

After his shower, he stood alone in his kitchen thinking of what to make for dinner when he checked the time on his phone. It was almost nine and he’s yet to hear about how your night has gone. The movie was set at six so you had to rush after work to meet with Mirae and all her people but the movie should’ve ended by now. Why haven’t you told him how it went if it’s over now?

Maybe he should just ask.

jungkook: is the movie over

You probably won’t respond if your phone’s on ‘Do Not Disturb’ so he didn’t expect a response.

you: yeah

jungkook: was it scary

you: ehhhhhh not really

jungkook: what r u doing now

you: they wanted to get food after

jungkook: and here I am cooking for myself

Without question Jungkook took a picture of it all, sending it right to you with a message that said;

jungkook: ur favorite

you: 👀 is that an invite

jungkook: depends, r u gonna actually come over or hang out with ur new friends

you: idk one of them is reallllyyyyyy cute

jungkook: stay with them then

You looked at everyone you were with curiously. The movie had ended a bit ago and you were walking to the nearest restaurant talking. Mirae was right, the guys were cool and her friend was nice but it was a lot of effort on your part to be social. One of the guys was particularly cute and he spent a little more time with you than anyone else but did that really mean anything?

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” You said, thinking about the early morning you have tomorrow and how everyone seemed ready to grab a few drinks. Mirae looked at you, “Really? You’re not even hungry?”

“Not really,” You lied with a shrug, “Are you gonna be good?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You said goodbye to them all, sharing information with the cute friend and split ways. On your way to Jungkook’s he let you know parking spot 97 was good to use and despite arguing with him about it you took his word.

“If I get towed again we’re not going to be friends anymore,” You told him once you let yourself into his apartment, immediately being greeted by Bam whose tail whipped back and forth behind him with excitement.

“It’s my spot, Goofy,” Jungkook said, casually throwing on a shirt once you were in. Up until now he’s been cooking shirtless from his shower.

“Your spot is 98,” You reminded him, watching the way he rolled his eyes and turned the stove off.

“Didn’t you tell me to rent you one?” Jungkook asked, pulling the pot off the stove and onto a cooling rack, “Grab bowls.”

“You actually did it?” You asked with a smile, “Bless your kind soul.”

He brushed you off as you did what he asked and went straight to the end of the peninsula countertop where you could sit and eat. Jungkook didn’t bother sitting down, choosing to eat standing up behind the counter and looking at you with curiosity.

“What?”

“How was the date?” He asked.

“What date?” You scoffed, “You mean the movie? One, it wasn’t a date and Two, I told you it was alright.”

“You didn’t drink, did you?” Jungkook asked, ignoring the attitude behind your words. You rolled your eyes, “I wouldn’t have driven here if I had been. I left before we made it to the restaurants. Why so curious tonight?”

He shrugged, the plate completely empty and he began to wash it and what he used to cook. When you finished and offered to help he told you no and washed your stuff too.

“I’m so full, have I ever told you how good of a Cook you are,” You said as you threw yourself onto his couch, a grunt leaving your lips when Bam nearly tackled you down.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” Jungkook said, rummaging through his fridge and smiling widely, “Want a drink?”

“I’m driving.”

“You can just crash on the couch, it’ll be fine,” Jungkook shrugged, carrying over a couple glasses and a bottle of Soju.

That was enough convincing for you to sit on the floor beside him as he set things down on the coffee table. You took the remote and played some movie in the background as he poured the small glass.

“You’re a bad influence,” You joked as you took the first drink like it was a pre-starter and he did the same, “We’ve got work tomorrow.”

“You only go in for a couple hours, I know your schedule, don't forget that,” Jungkook pointed a teasing finger at you, plopping down on the floor with his legs crossed, “I’ve got a beginner’s session around 10am and a few private classes after. I’ll be the one regretting it tomorrow, not you.”

“Yet you’re still the one asking for more,” You said playfully, reaching for the familiar green bottle and pouring a little more in his glass. You didn’t notice the way Jungkook’s gaze flickered down to your exposed waist when you leaned over the coffee table to grab it. The waist of your underwear showed just slightly underneath and he was surprised to find out it was black and lacy making his eyebrow quirk with curiosity. When you sat back down he looked away, pretending to be focused on the movie, “You dressed up for your date?”

“It wasn’t a date,” You said with a groan, sitting back a little closer to him than before and he didn’t bother moving away, “And look at what I’m wearing. Does it look like I dressed up?”

A knowing smirk pulled at his lips as he raised the glass to his lips, “I didn’t realize you wore lace so casually.”

Your brows furrowed with confusion, realization dawning on you just moments later and without thinking you pushed at him playfully, “How’d you know?”

Jungkook laughed, hand sliding down your back where your shirt rose and he didn’t hesitate to reach for the thin fabric nearly pulling on it just to feel you squirm. You couldn’t help but whine, moving away, “Freak.”

“Says you,” Jungkook said, keeping his hand on you, “Come on tell me, how was the date.”

“Why are you insisting it was a date?” You asked, taking a big gulp and turning to face him, “You never hear me asking about your little flings or whatever you like to call them nowadays.”

“But if you asked me I’d tell you, I wouldn’t be all secretive about it like you are,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “Hurry up and drink more.”

“Don’t pressure me,” You rolled your eyes but did as told, “And I did tell you. I said one of them were cute over text, remember?”

“Hardly,” He shrugged looking away with a bored expression, “Cuter than me?”

You didn’t say anything making him smile, “I’ll take that as a no.”

“He was alright, pretty cute and nice,” You finally said but Jungkook wasn’t listening anymore. His attention had drifted to the way you leaned against him with your side against his fitting perfectly beside him. It was obvious your words fell on deaf ears but you didn’t seem to mind either. You turned to face him, convince him that the guy you met was just cute but it wasn’t worth it. You’ll probably never see the guy again and if he does want to text, it most likely won’t lead to anything.

“What?” He asked, catching your stare.

“You’re drunk,” You pointed out his red cheeks and ears, “Already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you blushing?” You asked with a teasing smile going to poke his flushed cheek when he grabbed your hand suddenly. You both had been casually drinking since you sat down but it isn't until now that you can feel the alcohol take effect over your body. You blamed it for the way you were looking at your friend at the moment.

It was hard to see him as just Jungkook, right now you can only see him for how attractive he was. He’s gotten way more muscular lately and with the added tattoos it’s hard to ignore it. When you walked into his apartment earlier and found him shirtless it was hard not to look at his abdomen. You don’t remember the eight pack or his biceps that big. Without thinking you placed a hand on his chest, taut muscles tense underneath your touch.

Jungkook couldn’t help but let his breath hitch when your hand trailed down his rib cage suddenly, “What?”

“You’ve gotta get a new hobby, you’re going to get too bulky,” You said jokingly, feeling his muscles. He was taken back to have your hand on him but he didn’t back away, “But you like it.”

Not bothering to wait for a response, he lifted the end of his shirt displaying a smooth trail of muscle down his torso and prominent V-line that you tried not to eye too hard. Your hand slipped down without much thought to your actions and lifted your brows in surprise. His skin felt hot to the touch and part of you wanted to keep running your hand over him but you knew better. It would be weird if you did. It’s not like he’s just some random guy…

“I need to pee,” You blurted out, rushing to your feet and kicking his leg playfully, “Put your shirt down.”

“Might just take it off for you,” Jungkook teased, biting his lip watching you walk away.

When you were alone looking at yourself in the mirror it was easier to tell how you felt. You were past tipsy and buzzed but not fully drunk. Your vision was slightly blurry and when you stood straight you felt dizzy but it was the good kind of dizzy.

“What next?” Jungkook asked when you came out of the bathroom, hair up in a clip now and makeup wiped away with some wet wipe he had in the bathroom. He had to do a double take at your new appearance but he didn’t mind the change. You looked comfortable and he can see the clear look of buzz on your face that he’s sure matched his, “Or are you calling it already?”

“Calling what?” You sat back down next to him, stumbling into him a little and he helped you with a hand on your waist guiding you down. Neither of you seemed to care for the fact that you were partially sitting on his lap.

“Calling it a night,” Jungkook said, shifting you closer to his front, “You’ve taken off your makeup, put your hair up… you look ready for bed.”

“I thought you wanted to drink,” You said, suddenly aware of how close the two of you were and his lip piercing had a slight shine from the light reflecting off of it.

“Not if your date tired you out,” Jungkook said with a knowing smirk when you rolled your eyes, leaning into him a little more. He didn’t care who you met up with tonight but he knows it’s getting on your nerves and sometimes he loves to push your buttons, “You probably would’ve preferred to stay out with them since one of them was… what’d you say? Cute? Nice?”

“If you think that, why'd you ask me to come over?” You asked slightly irritated now.

He shrugged, grinning now when he felt you relax in his hold, almost straddling him, “Technically, I did say you could stay with them.”

Your eyes narrowed, hands on his chest ready to push yourself off him, “Fine, I got his number. I’ll see if they’re still ou—“

“No,” He whined, arms tightening around your waist, “No, you’re already here and you’re drunk now. You can’t leave, be a safe driver.”

“Are you trying to manipulate me to stay?” You couldn’t help but laugh, arms circling around his neck. He felt your breath tickle his ear and for some reason it made a shiver run down his spine.

“Depends, is it working?”

It was.

It had been since the beginning. Jungkook didn’t need to do much to get you to hang out with him and he knew that. It’s the same way around. It takes little for Jungkook to beg you to spend time with him. You’re his best friend.

And as his best friend… sometimes… sometimes he wonders how your lips taste. He doesn’t remember when his hand moved from your waist to your neck, or how he moved it to tilt your chin up until your lips were brushing against each other. All he remembers is how close you were to kissing and all he needed was one push, one sign that you want this too and he’ll go for it.

You nearly fell into it too. You can blame the alcohol or the fact that Jungkook is incredibly hot despite only seeing him as a friend but you wanted to kiss him too. You would’ve.

Key words: Would Have.

“Open the door, you Fuck!”

You practically threw yourself off him as someone pounded on his door and it took you a second to reel in what was about to happen. Jungkook couldn’t move for a second, trying to understand why you got off of him so quickly when he heard it again.

“Jungkook, I checked your location, open up,” His friend yelled, knocking on the door, “I’m going to piss myself, let me in!”

“Coming!” Jungkook shouted, sounding annoyed as he got up to unlock the front door. You pulled yourself onto the couch, fixing your shirt that had risen when his hands had grazed your waist and stared down at the empty bottles of Soju.

“Tae—“ He couldn’t finish his sentence before his friend was pushing past him and running straight for the bathroom, waving hello to you before disappearing. He stood at the open door trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

The two of you were drinking, messing around and almost kissed? Almost? If Taehyung hadn’t come barging in would you have done it? Would you know when to stop? Would you stop anyway?

“Fuck, I was in the cab on my way home and he would not pull over,” Taehyung said once he was done with his business, “I was like ‘Listen dude, my friend lives around here so drop me off or I’m going to puke in your backseat’.”

“I thought you had to pee,” You chimed in when he sat down next to you, acting like he had been there the whole time.

“I thought so too but it came up the other way instead, what are you guys doing? Drinking?” Taehyung asked looking down at the coffee table, “Ugh I can’t even think about it, don’t play APT with Jin hyung, he talks too fast and wins everytime.”

“Maybe he was just speaking gibberish but you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook said, arms crossed over his chest looking unimpressed, “So… is the cab still out there waiting or…”

“Nah, I’m just gonna crash here—“

“Great!” Jungkook scoffed, “Sleepover at my place, first Y/n… now you… it’s like we’re in school…”

“Well I would’ve gone home if you didn’t ask to drink,” You told him trying to ignore the fact that you almost kissed but it was hard to ignore the way he bit his lip at you, “I could still call an Uber.”

“Nah, Taehyung can,” Jungkook said, sitting on the armchair across from you.

“Whoa, you’re the first person I thought of, why kick me out now? I’m drunk, Kook, be nice to me,” Taehyung pouted, leaning against your shoulder, “What’d you do? Why’s he so grumpy?”

“Don’t blame me, you’re the one that came pounding on the door so late at night,” You said playfully, shoving Taehyung off. He was more Jungkook’s friend then yours but you’ve hung out around him enough to feel comfortable with him.

“So? I always do that—Why?” Taehyung turned abruptly, “What were you guys doing?”

“Drinking,” Jungkook said, “You wouldn’t want to since yknow… Jin got you drunk… you probably want to call it a night…”

“Nah, I puked a little earlier so I’m fine now,” Taehyung said, “Plus I haven’t seen Y/n in a while, what are we watching?”

“Actually, I’m tired,” You told him with a small yawn, “I think I’m calling it a night.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Taehyung asked.

You laughed, “No, I’m just saying I’m tired.”

“Go to my room,” Jungkook said with a sigh, thinking about what the two of you were about to do before he stormed in, “I’ll stay out here with him.”

When you left, Jungkook threw a pillow at Taehyung’s head, making the other groan, “What?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook huffed , “Now I gotta sleep on the couch.”

Taehyung smirked, feeling more sober now as he put two and two together, “Or you could go follow your girlfriend…”

“We’re no—we’re not dating,” Jungkook thought about how you almost kissed and his face flushed red, “For fuck’s same, go get the extra blankets and pillows. I get the big couch—“

“But I’m like a centimeter taller than—“

“This is my house!” Jungkook yelled, throwing himself on the couch and covering his face with one of the pillows, “Or get an Uber back to yours.”

“Jeez, you’re rude tonight. I always come over when I’m drunk,” Taehyung laughed knowing how annoyed Jungkook was, “Just say you were going to get freaky with Y/n.”

“I wasn’t!”

✮

It took you a full day to come to terms with what happened the other night at Jungkook’s. The two of you had been drinking and almost kissed, almost.

There’s no way to deny it. You were close to kissing.

If Taehyung hadn’t shown up out of the blue, would you have done it? Would he have slept in the same bed as you? What would you do or say if he asked?

There’s always been an underlying sense of tension between you but you tried not to think about it. You told yourself that nothing was ever going to happen. It was just how friendships with someone you found attractive was.

A loud sigh left your lips, dropping your head against your keyboard and letting an endless stream of spaces fill the word document. Soft fingers pulled your head up to slide the keyboard out making you look up at the person who did it. Jimin sat at the end of your desk, “I was just sitting in my office wondering why my friend hasn’t gone to distract me today. What’s up with you?”

“Morning, can’t focus,” You told him.

“How’d the showing go?” Jimin asked, trying to find something that could get you talking.

“They liked it, it’s a little over their budget but I think we’ll close the deal on it,” You said.

“Good, what about the other night?”

“What about the other night?” Your question sounded rushed and made him look at you with peaked interest. He crossed his arms over his chest and smirked.

“With Mirae and the movie,” Jimin said. He watched you release a breath you weren’t aware you were holding and pressed you for more, “Did you talk to any of the guys?”

“Yeah… um, I did,” You sat back, chair swiveling out as you turned to face him, “His name’s Namjoon. I got his number and he texted me yesterday before the showing to wish me luck.”

“So what? Are you and Mirae gonna ditch me when you guys find someone? Who are going to be my drinking buddies when you’re off with your boyfriends? She told me all about the other guy, I’m starting to feel pushed aside,” Jimin spoke in a ramble making you roll your eyes.

“Relax, it was the first time I met him. Mirae, yeah she really hit it off with the other guy,” You said.

Jimin just nodded, taking in your words and finally deciding to bring it up, “Mirae said you left early though.”

“Yeah, they wanted to go out to eat but I wasn’t hungry…” You said.

“Bullshit, I checked your location, you went to Jungkook’s pla—“

“Okay! What’s up with all the stalking lately? First Taehyung, now you—we share locations so that you know I’m safe after a night out,” You pointed a finger at him, trying to deflect some of the questions away from you, “And yeah, I did go to his place. He made food and I didn’t want to go eat with all of them anyway.”

“Interesting excuse, so what? Did you guys fight or something? You know I understand you’re close friends but you’re not close friends like we are.“

“That’s not tru—“ You cut yourself off thinking about how you almost kissed Jungkook and as much as you love Jimin, you’ll never find yourself kissing him, almost!

A loud groan left your lips as you dropped your head against the keyboard again and Jimin watched the aggressive keyboard smash type out gibberish. This time it was his turn to roll his eyes and he stood up, “We both know that’s a lie but fine, I’ll let you be.”

You don’t remember how the rest of your day went aside from the fact that you were distracted the entire time. Right now you have three different clients you’re currently helping buy their first home and the last thing you need is to be distracted right now.

Jungkook is your friend and until he makes it clear that he is interested, you’re just going to move on. Well… even if he was interested, what does that mean? Does that mean you’re into him? It’s all so confusing.

He took a deep breath, leg threatening to bounce with anxiety as he counted the reps his current client did between sets.

“Kook, man, you’re killing me today,” His client said with a deep huff, nearly collapsing on the floor as he set the weight down, “I thought we’d be taking it easy after the last session.”

“I don’t know why you would think that,” Jungkook said, “Take a breather and do another fifteen.”

Even as he said that, he switched places with Hoseok and prepared himself to do a set. His client watched him with his mouth open in confusion, “It’s what you said! You said we’d be taking it easy today since last time was so much. I’m still a sore man, please don’t do this to me.”

”You’re right, I did say that,” Jungkook huffed, counting in his head as he did bench presses, “Next session we’ll take it easy.”

“Fuck, I need a new trainer,” Hoseok groaned, chugging back water and pacing back and forth.

“You’re at my gym! You’re lucky we’re friends, don’t say that,” Jungkook stood up and motioned for Hoseok to go, “Now you're doing twenty.”

“Rude,” Hoseok said, “What’s up with you anyways? You seem on edge today.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook said looking down at his gym bag where his phone currently was, “But uh, just out of curiosity… if someone hasn’t talked to you in a couple days, what does it mean?”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle, “Come on, how old are we? That’s what you’re stressing about?”

When Jungkook didn’t laugh it off Hoseok got a little more serious, “Depends on the person. Girlfriend? Family member? Stranger?”

“Not girlfriend—just friend,” Jungkook clarified quickly.

“Friend?” Hoseok looked at him curiously, “Friend with the occasional benefits or Friend you’re currently upset with?”

“Neither, just friend,” Jungkook shook his head, “I mean… like actual, genuine friend and… fuck, I don’t know.”

“Who?”

Jungkook didn’t say anything but it wasn’t hard for Hoseok to connect the pieces, “Y/n?”

To that, Jungkook nodded meekly.

“I mean… it’s normal to not talk everyday. We don’t talk everyday, I send you like a hundred Instagram reels a day that you don’t see me crying about,” Hoseok said, skipping from 15 to 17 and hoping Jungkook didn’t catch the reps he didn’t do, “Which by the way, you could at least bother to react to every now and then.”

“Sorry, you’re right, I’m overthinking it,” Jungkook said, “And you’re not done, you skipped ahead.”

“Fucker,” Hoseok cursed under his breath and hurried to do them properly before he could take a break, “But honestly, what’s up with you and Y/n? Aren’t you ‘just friends’?”

“We are,” Jungkook bit his lip nervously, “I don’t know I’m being weird. I’ll just ask her what shes doing later.”

“Being weird about what?”

Jungkook looked at him with wide, rounded eyes like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have and the words came out in a shy whisper, “Nothing.”

✮

Over the night Jungkook reached out to you. He sent you some stupid text about a new tv show he’s watching that he thinks you could get into. It wasn’t anything serious or anything but it brushed past what happened. It was normal.

Things were normal and clearly nothing had happened that night so you were overthinking for no reason.

“You don’t want to go?” Mirae asked, watching you stare at your reflection for the hundredth time trying to find something off about your appearance.

“I do, we’re going, don’t worry,” You looked around, “I just need perfume.”

“Where’s Jungkook?” She asked, standing up for you to give her some too. You checked the ETA on your Uber before answering.

“Huh? He’s probably already there, I don’t know. Let’s go downstairs, the Uber’s pulling up,” You told her as you quickly grabbed your things and began to walk out your room. Your friend followed suit, “And then we’re going out with Namjoon and Jisoo, right?”

The only reason Mirae agreed to come with you was so that you could go with her and the guy she likes later. A couple days ago Jungkook let you know that Taehyung was going to have a few friends over to watch some MMA fight on tv and drink. You still felt awkward seeing him in person and he knew you had no reason to say no so there was no point in trying. In the end you asked Mirae to join you and after begging, she agreed. She had plans with one of the guys from last week and found it perfect to have you tag along after.

You’ve been to Taehyung’s place once or twice before — usually with Jungkook — but it was different to walk in without him.

“Look who finally showed up,” Taehyung said with a smile as he opened the door for you and Mirae, “Hi Y/n, and Mirae right?”

The two have met before but it was brief and awkward so you were surprised he even remembered her name but they greeted each other politely anyway. You looked around, surprised to see a lot more people than you anticipated, “Doesn’t look like a couple friends, Tae.”

“I’m a social being,” Taehyung said with a hand to his chest, “Jungkook is somewhere around here. I thought you’d be coming with him and then got stuck waiting around for you to show up.”

“I need a drink first.”

Jungkook was across the room talking with some people you didn’t know. It wasn’t hard for you to see that the one closest to him was a pretty brunette with a soft smile and big eyes. She talked with him the most and you had no idea who she was. For all you know he could’ve come with her tonight or just met her and really hit it off, you’re not sure, and you’d rather not know.

He barely knew the girl but Yoongi introduced her to him a while before you got to Taehyung’s place. He had been staring at his phone anxiously waiting for a text that never came and the next thing he knew, Yoongi was having him meet Sera. She was pretty and easy to talk to, paid attention to him even when others talked and stood by him wherever he moved to. It was alright, he didn’t mind the extra attention but it wasn’t… that interesting.

Sera said something in his ear that he had to lean down to hear properly but in all honesty he wasn’t listening to begin with. If anything it reminded him of when you whispered in his ear but it didn’t feel the same. His eyes scanned the people that arrived over time, occasionally drifting to the door and stopping once he saw you walk in. You wore a short black dress that accentuated your legs and it was hard for his eyes to remain on your face. Mirae was dressed similarly and you both looked out of place in a good way.

“How do you know Taehyung?” He heard Sera ask and he answered with little eagerness, watching you talk with his friend and head for the drinks.

“We met a few years ago when I first moved to the city,” Jungkook said, looking down at her trying to focus but his mind had gone elsewhere. Turning to Yoongi he said, “I’m gonna go say hi to Y/n.”

Yoongi could try and keep him around but there was no point. Jungkook was walking off before anyone could stop him. He left Sera alone with the others so he can talk to you. Since you last seen each other and had the ‘Almost Kiss’ he had only texted you. You’ve both had a busy week with work and nerves probably kept you apart.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to overthink anything. He just wanted to talk to his friend.

“What are we drinking?” He asked with an overly gracious smile, slipping himself between you and the counter so you were forced to look at him.

“Depends, what have you had?” You asked, immediately feeling yourself tense for a second before you realized who it was.

“Nothing too strong just yet,” Jungkook admitted, “I’ve been waiting for you all night.”

He greeted your friend quietly before looking back at you and where you stared off at, “Really? I’ve been here for a while, I figured you would’ve noticed earlier if you’ve been waiting all this time.”

He could sense the small sarcastic tone in your voice but there was nothing strange to it. You usually talked this way with him, always sounding close to flirting or jealous or… interested in him. It was confusing at first but overtime he’s learned to ignore the tone or offer it back. It works for your friendship.

“I might’ve gotten a little distracted,” He couldn’t help but smile, “What time did you get home last night?”

“Early,” You said with a shrug making his brow arch, watching you pour yourself a mix of rum and coke.

“Then why didn’t you text me back?” He asked.

“I did—well, I was going to,” You began to say, feeling yourself on the edge of smiling as you thought up an excuse, “I forgot.”

“Right…” Jungkook rolled his eyes looking over at Mirae instead, “You both look nice, did you just have dinner or something?”

“No, we’re meeting up with some guys in a bit,” Mirae said without much thought and you snapped your eyes to her. She looked up, catching the way Jungkook’s smile dropped a fraction lower and shifted her gaze toward you. Your glare was enough to tell her she shouldn’t have said anything.

“Guys? The one’s from the movie? What are you doing? Going out?” He asked, attempting to sound indifferent. It’s not like he can say anything. He doesn’t know why it doesn’t sit right with him but it didn’t. He didn’t even know the guy but he knew you thought he was cute. Jungkook knew you were talking to him at least a little and that you wore a dress for him tonight.

“Take this,” You offered Jungkook the drink, “And we’re going out for a little bit but I think it’ll be a casual night.”

“Super casual,” Mirae laughed nervously, looking around, “Where’s the bathroom? I’ll be back.”

Before you could follow after her, he stood in front of you.

“So who were you talking to? Have I met her?” You asked, clearing your throat awkwardly. It was an attempt to take some of the heat off of you because this was feeling like an odd interrogation. Anyone passing but might think it’s a lover’s quarrel but it wasn’t.

“I’ve barely met her,” Jungkook said, “It’s Sora… Sua… Sera? Something like that, I don’t know. A friend of Yoongi’s I met the other night.”

“Cool,” You looked back to find her talking with someone else now.

“What about the cute and nice guy you’ve been going on about? You’re seeing him again tonight?” Jungkook asked, taking a sip from the cup and leaning against the kitchen counter. He had a good view of you standing a couple feet away and he had to resist the urge to pull you closer.

“I have not been going on about him, there’s nothing going on,” You told him with an exaggerated sigh, leaning into him absentmindedly and feeling his hand on your side keeping you steady, “I asked Mirae to come with but she had plans with them after and just asked me to tag along.”

“Alright, you don’t have to explain it.” Jungkook said, sounding like he was brushing you off but not meaning to. Obviously he was happy you were here and talking to him but he didn’t want to hear more. It was beginning to sound like you were explaining yourself to him. Making yourself sound better after he asked you about Namjoon. He doesn’t even know why he asked you about that guy, he doesn’t care.

“Alright, I won’t,” you crossed your arms over your chest looking away from him, “Don’t ask me about anyone then.”

Jungkook had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from responding. He didn’t have anything to say because all he wanted was for you to tell him a little more about Namjoon. Why did he act like he didn’t care when he did?

Without bothering to ask anything he was scared to know about, he turned away from you and looked back at the people he was standing with before. You walked off to find Mirae, a little annoyed with Jungkook for reasons you couldn’t understand and needed to get away. Whatever, you almost kissed and considering he hasn't said anything about it it’s clearly not on his mind. If that’s the case why does he act like he cares about who you talk to only to stop you when you explain yourself?

When he joined Yoongi and the others again he acted like he didn’t care that you wandered off away from him. He didn’t seem bothered when you left later that night without saying goodbye and didn’t check his phone once for a text from you.

He can’t explain why but he doesn’t know how to feel about you. For so long now it feels like you’ve just been a close friend to him. You’re someone he calls when he’s bored and thinks of when he finds something funny. You get him like a friend, you don’t expect much either. You’re more like the guys he’s friends with, and you’re not like the girls who’ve tried to get with him. He doesn’t know how to explain it but he likes having you around and the last thing he wants to do is complicate things by catching feelings.

Especially when he doesn’t know how you feel and he’s too nervous to ask. It’d be crossing the line. You’d probably be grossed out if he expresses interest in you. He’s seen how quick you are to stop being friends with a guy who approaches you like a friend but wants to be with you.

He’s already done too much by almost kissing you.

“Y/n, good to see you and don’t you look pretty,” Namjoon said later that night, hugging you in greeting when you met up with him and Jisoo. The club you’d gone to after Taehyung’s was lovely and packed with people everywhere that it was hard to find him in the first place. He brought a surprising smile to your face but you’re not sure how to feel about him just yet.

“Thank you, thank you, dressed up just for you,” You told him playfully, leaning against the bar when Jisoo asked for your drink order. Namjoon was attractive and charming but… there’s something holding you back even if you flirted with him absentmindedly. Was there much weight to your actions? Did you actually care to get to know him better?

“I like it, how’s your night been?” Namjoon attempted small talk. It was what your conversations usually consisted of. Even the first night you met you only talked about the movie and when Jungkook texted you, you talked about your friends too.

He’s told you a little about himself and you’ve told about yourself but not enough. Your mind always seemed off somewhere else.

Time passed by without wondering about Jungkook, using Namjoon as a distraction but it didn’t work for as long as you hoped. When your night had dulled and your friends dared to call it the end, Namjoon looked at you for an invitation to your apartment that you never gave him. You went your separate ways and left on your own.

It was past 3am and you should’ve gone to bed, not gotten on your phone to find someone to talk to.

“Hello?”

“Are you sleeping?” You asked, falling on your bed and sinking into the pillows.

“Was trying to, what’s up?” Jungkook asked with a small yawn that had you debating if you should hang up and let him sleep instead.

“Nevermind, you’re tired I shouldn’t have called,” You began to say, looking around for your phone charger to connect it before you end the call.

He sat up in bed, checking the time and sighing, “But you did, are you still out with your new friends?”

“Jungkook!” You whined, rolling onto your stomach and staring up at your dimly lit ceiling.

“I’m kidding,” He laughed softly, voice a little raspy from being half-asleep but he couldn’t help but press you again, “But are you?”

“I just got home but I’m not tired. I’m bored.” You admitted.

“What should I do about that?” Jungkook smiled, imagining the way you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know…” You bit your lip in thought. You really weren’t tired but that didn’t mean you had to drag Jungkook around.

“Want me to come over?” He finally asked.

“It’s late.”

“I think we both know that.” He rolled his eyes, already getting out of bed so he could throw some clothes on, “Do you?”

“What would we do?” You asked, leaving your bedroom so you could get the front door unlocked for him.

He put his phone on speaker as he slipped on a pair of sweats and threw a hoodie over his head, “I don’t know, we both don’t work tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie?”

“At this hour?” You asked. You could hear Jungkook huff, sitting on the edge of his bed unsure what to do, “You really want to come over?”

“Maybe, you did ditch me tonight—“ Jungkook started, getting cut off by yet another whine.

“No I didn’t! You know what, come over so we can talk,” You told him.

“I’m already getting dressed, chill out.”

It took only around ten minutes for Jungkook to come around and he walked into your apartment with a shake of his head. You must’ve left it unlocked earlier and he didn’t like that. What if someone broke in? He locked the door behind himself, kicking his shoes off by the heels you wore tonight. The only light he could find came from your bedroom and he didn’t hesitate to let himself in.

“What have I told you about leaving your door unlocked?” His words were barely heard over your scream of terror as you walked out of the bathroom dressed in a t-shirt and pajama shorts.

Once the scare wore off you said, “Relax I left it open for you.”

“Sure you did, I bet it was for your new fri—ow!” He groaned dramatically when you hit his arm playfully. He laughed at your annoyance and threw himself on the bed, “I’m kidding. What’d you go do anyway? Did your dress leave him swooning?”

“You’re so annoying,” You sighed jumping down next to him, “Just say you’re jealous.”

“Jealous?” A scoff left his lips.

“Sounds like it,” You looked for your remote, “What do you wanna watch?”

“I’m not jealous. If you want to go hang out with another guy then do what you want,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, “We’re just friends, anyway.”

You raised a brow in confusion and surprise by his tone with you, “And if I wanted to don’t you think I would be doing that right now?

“I mean you did earlier when you left,” Jungkook said annoyingly.

“Go home if you’re going to argue with me,” You told him, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest with frustration.

“Hell no, I drove over at this hour, I’m sleeping here,” As if to make his point more clear, he made himself comfortable on your bed.

“Not if you’re going to act mean.”

“I’m not!” Jungkook scoffed, leaning up with your pillows, “I’ll stop, whatever, fine. Don’t kick me out, it’s so late. I drove all the way here for you.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive,” You groaned when he pulled on the end of your hoodie, “What?”

“This is mine,” Jungkook looked at the gray apparel, “I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“You didn’t, but you left it in my car,” You tried to pull back but it was no use. Jungkook wasn’t letting you move away.

“So? Doesn’t mean it’s yours. I want it back—“

“I’ll wash it,” You pulled your covers up to hide yourself underneath but there was no point. A smirk appeared on his face, “I want it now though.”

You didn’t say anything as he pulled you closer, falling over him a little. His hand slid down your waist keeping you against him, too close to be appropriate for two friends.

“What are you gonna do? Take it off me?” You dared to ask, making yourself comfortable against his chest. Part of you knew you shouldn’t be laying in bed like this with your friend.

“Should I?” He asked in a low whisper, fingers slipping up your back just under the hoodie where he could feel your bare skin. You didn’t wear anything underneath and it made him want to explore more.

You didn’t say anything or bother to push his hand away. You kind of liked his touch, it was gentle but his fingers were rough from all the time he spends at the gym. Your body lay on his, leg nearly hooked around his waist and looking down at him with curiosity.

Jungkook could make out small fragments of makeup you couldn’t get all the way off. There was still a small outline of lip gloss and your lashes were dark and long. Your cheeks still had a hint of blush but even in this state you were pretty. He can’t get the image of you in that dress earlier out of his mind.

You were oddly close to him and found yourself in the same predicament as last time. Your lips only centimeters apart from his and a need to close that space. Jungkook parted his lips in a breath, catching the way you looked at him and his hand had slowed down its caress until it was tracing a soft line against your spine.

He felt the shift of your upper body when you tried to lean up, almost closing the space but hesitant still.

You wanted to kiss him. He can tell and he wanted to kiss you just as bad. This time around there were no interruptions so what was stopping him from leaning into you too?

“How much did you drink tonight?” Jungkook found himself asking before he could stop himself. It wasn’t the right time to ask but he wanted to know if this was just something that happened when you were drunk or could it happen sober too?

“I don’t know, I stopped drinking like a while before I got home,” You leaned back, brows furrowed together, “Why? You drank tonight too?”

“I went home a little after you left,” he admitted. It was around midnight when you left Taehyung’s to go with Mirae and those guys. He’d barely managed to survive at the party much long after that and called it an early night. You’d been out longer than he had.

“Okay…” You pushed off of him, feeling his arm loosen around you, “That was kind of random.”

Jungkook knew he should have stayed quiet. He should’ve just kissed you and see where things could’ve gone but he had to ruin it. He had to ask you something that was eating at him.

All he’s been able to think about lately is possibly kissing you and this time around he ruined it all on his own.

“Y/n,” He poked your side to get your attention but you had your back to him, turned on your side and tuned him out.

You felt stupid for even attempting to kiss him. He pushed you away after what felt like him flirting with you and it was embarrassing. He just sees you as a friend so you have to stop doing this.

With a huff of frustration, he stretched himself out on his side of your bed and stared at the night landscape on your flatscreen. In a few short moments it’d go into sleep mode on its own and the room would go pitch black.

You must’ve been tired, worked up or even a little buzzed still but you fell asleep long before he did. You’d been so tired you didn’t notice when your cell phone fell onto the bed in the space between you and just as he felt himself close to sleep, the screen lit up the room.

Jungkook planned on ignoring it, not caring who might’ve texted but something in him told him to look. Plus, you’d be mad if you woke up in the morning and your phone wasn’t charging. He picked it up, eyes squinting at the bright light and read the notification.

namjoon: did u make it home safe ????

Here he was sleeping in your bed while another guy texted you. How dumb is he?

You flirt with him but you don’t want him, simple as that and he doesn’t know if he could take it anymore. After some contemplation, he carefully got out of your bed and rounded to your side. He found your charger and connected your phone before he left your bedroom quietly and went home before you could wake up.

✮

Your office felt oddly cold that following Monday. You spent Sunday holed up in your bedroom trying to figure out what happened over the weekend and you’ve somewhat come to terms with it when you texted Jungkook and he chose not to respond.

You weren’t in the mood to work but there was nothing you could do about it. The clients you were supposed to meet with postponed the lunch meeting to later in the day so really, you could go home for a while but you also didn’t want to. It would make you think about how you almost kissed Jungkook and how he pushed you away and left in the middle of the night like you were some one night stand or something.

“I’m not going out anymore,” You told Jimin as you walked into his office, “I make poor decisions when I’m under the influence and I’m done.”

“Why? I thought you went out with Mirae,” Jimin said swiveling his chair out from under his desk top, “Which by the way, fuck you both for no invite.”

“It was last minute,” You told him, leaning against a shelf, “And I regret it.”

“Why?”

“Stop asking me questions, I can’t explain it,” You whined, covering your ears dramatically which only made your friend roll his eyes.

“You storm into my office complaining and I’m not allowed to ask questions? What happened to a positive work environment?” Jimin asked with a scoff.

“It’s hard to explain, it was great when I was with Mirae and Namjoon and Jisoo but…” You bit your lip nervously.

“But what?” Jimin waited. He knew how your night went because Mirae filled him in on everything. He had known you went to Jungkook’s friend’s place to pregame and if it wasn’t the group you were with that left you stressed it had to be Jungkook. You think you’re so secretive about the trials and tribulations of your ‘friendship’ with him.

“Nothing,” you sighed out, checking your phone. Maybe you just needed to give it a few days for the embarrassment to go away and you’ll be fine again.

Jimin looked at you expectantly, deciding to take a different route for his questions, “So how was it with Namjoon? Mirae is all Heart Eyes for Jisoo.”

“Huh? Oh, no it’s nothing like that,” You told him honestly, “We talked yesterday and I don’t know, I think it’s obvious we’re good as friends right now.”

“So no feelings at all?” Jimin asked, watching you shake your head, so he kept pushing, “Really? Have you actually thought about it though? I thought he’d be someone who’s your type or something.”

You stayed quiet, not bothering to hear him out as you let your mind run rampant. Namjoon is attractive but he’s just a friend and he knows that. If you were not emotionally available you might have given him a better chance but right now you know you feel something for Jungkook. It’s stupid considering he clearly doesn’t want you but it would be unfair to Namjoon if you used him to get over the other.

✮

It took over a week for Jungkook to get the courage to talk about you. He wanted you, he wanted you so bad but there was something holding him back. He’s mad that you’re possibly interested in someone else and he’s pissed that he ruined your chance at kissing. He’s annoyed with himself for many reasons and the only thing he thought to do was distance himself from you.

There’s no point in asking to hang out all the time if you’ve got someone you’re interested in, you'd probably rather spend time with.

Throughout the week he found himself joining his other friends and whatever they did instead of seeking you out like usual. If they thought it strange no one had the nerve to question it. It was obvious there was something going on between you and considering Jungkook’s been on edge nobody wanted to push him to know more.

On Tuesday he met up with Yoongi for dinner and surprisingly enough some other people showed up—Sera (the girl from the party) being one of them. She talked to him the most like last time and it was clear she was very interested in him. He was flattered but that was it. He was too stuck on you even when you weren’t talking.

By the time the weekend rolled back around, Jungkook let himself be dragged to another night out. Yoongi and some of his other friends got him out for a couple drinks at a few bars. He didn’t mind it, but it was weird when Sera and others showed up. It felt oddly like a set-up and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“So you don’t think she’s hot?” Hoseok asked as he waited at the bar with Jungkook for the round of drinks he’d just ordered. Jungkook looked back at the group finding Sera looking at him but he just looked away.

“She’s… she’s alright,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know, not really my type though.”

“Why? Because she’s not Y/n?” Hoseok asked with a scoff that made Jungkook roll his eyes. Out of everyone Hoseok was always the main one to point out his relationship with you. It all started when Hoseok made a comment months ago about how he thought you were hot and Jungkook was a little too quick to shut it down. It was weird for him to think of two of his friends going out or talking and Hoseok took that as a sign that Jungkook wanted you… which wasn’t true.

Anyway, the point is, Hoseok always brings you up around him and tonight was no different.

“Where is she anyway? I feel like I haven’t seen her around in a while,” Taehyung said, appearing out of nowhere holding a drink of his own.

“You saw her last weekend,” Jungkook told him.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen her with you,” Taehyung clarified but Jungkook didn’t seem to care anymore. Hoseok nudged Jungkook and with a drink, “Let’s go talk with Sera and maybe you can introduce me to her friend.”

Taehyung let the other two leave and without thinking he grabbed his cell phone and dialed your number.

You were hanging out at Jimin’s place after finishing some work with him and Mirae when Taehyung called, “Hello.”

“Hey Y/n, where are you? What are you doing?” Taehyung asked looking back at Jungkook who looked tortured to be sandwiched between Sera and Hoseok.

“At a friend’s place, what’s up?” You asked looking between your friends who looked back at you with curiosity.

“Come to JJ’s Bar, we’re all here,” Taehyung kept it simple. In all honesty, he genuinely likes having you around. You’re funny and like Jungkook in a way. When Jungkook brought you around it was surprisingly easy to befriend you and you’re someone he likes seeing. He thinks you and Jungkook should get together some day—if you haven’t already. He doesn’t understand why it hasn’t happened yet when you both clearly want to and okay, he might’ve cut in on that first night but he swears he was drunk. He didn’t mean to and since then you’ve been distant from each other.

He’s been trying to invite you since Jungkook wants to be too stubborn to admit he wants you around.

“Who’s we? Yoongi? Jungkook?” You asked, beginning to gnaw on your bottom lip, “Let me think about it.”

When you hung up, Jimin was the first to speak, “I can drive you.”

“I don’t know… I haven’t really been talking to Jungkook this weekend,” You admitted to making Mirae roll her eyes.

“We know, but it’s obvious you want to. You’ve been depressed all week,” She said, trying to convince you to be honest about your feelings. Neither one of you wants to admit what’s going on between you so you just keep going around it. You’ve been off for a couple weeks now and everyone can see it but you two.

At the bar Jungkook was bored. He wasn’t in the mood to drink or be out with everyone but he dragged himself along because he had nothing better to do. He wasn’t going to stay home staring at his phone or getting FOMO because he missed his friends. He doesn’t want to be here but he doesn’t want to be home.

Frankly, Jungkook knows where and with who he wants to be but he’s too stupid to pick up his phone and call you.

“Jungkook, be honest, are you seeing anyone?” Sera finally asked as she noticed him stare at his phone screen. The bar was dark with colorful lights here and there, packed with people and he was more interested on his phone. She’s done everything she can to get him to notice her but it feels like she keeps falling shorts. He talks to her, close to flirting but never all the way, yet she can’t tell how he feels. Well, no, she can tell he’s thinking about something else but everyone tells her he’s single. She remembers seeing you at Taehyung’s last weekend, it was the most interested he looked in anything but the two of aren’t… dating [?] so what was his deal?

“What?” He turned with surprise written on his face. Sera was blunt and it caught him off guard.

“Well, I think you’re hot and I want to get to know you but I don’t know where your head is at,” Sera said loudly over the music. He was flattered but…

“You actually came!” Taehyung greeted you warmly, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug as you found him and the others. You hugged him back and looked at everyone, not remembering him mentioning any of the other women here—or the one Jungkook was talking to.

“Y/n,” Yoongi said hello, “Do you want a drink?”

“Um…”

“I uh,” Jungkook blinked in disbelief as he looked at you just a few feet away from him. He didn’t know you’d be here, how? “It’s complicated.”

He tried to sit there and focus on Sera but it was hard. He didn’t want to just ditch the girl out of the blue but you haven’t spared him a single glance. It’s like you’re here for his friends but not for him and he didn’t like that. You’re supposed to be his friend not theirs.

You stood back, nervous to greet him. You barely know the girl but what if it’s someone he’s interested in? What if you’re just supposed to be someone he calls when he’s bored and flirts with when no one’s around? What if you’ve read too much into it and let your feelings get involved? You debated approaching him or not especially considering how he left you alone in bed after pushing you away from a kiss. Was it a mistake coming here? What’d you even hope could happen?

“Jungkook,” You waved, hoping you didn’t sound too nervous or bothered while also not sounding too enthusiastic in case that was a girl he was after. You just needed to sound friendly. That’s it.

Sera looked between you with peaked curiosity. She’d notice his attention had left her a while ago but now she sees why. Jungkook didn’t bother looking back at her as he stood up, making his way over to where you stood.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” He said shifting his eyes around, “Who invited you?”

“I can’t hang around your friends anymore?” You asked bluntly, “What do you mean who invited me?”

“I just… I didn’t kno—should we get a drink?” His voice shook with anxiety as his hand slipped down your back to lead you to the bar. He wasn’t doing anything wrong talking to Sera but for some reason he didn’t want the two of you around each other—especially after she just told him she was interested.

“I’ll probably leave, I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted,” You said bitterly, trying to step away from him but he didn’t let you get far from his arms.

“I want you here, of course I do. I just wanted to know who texted you,” Jungkook told you looking at his friends and the only one that was smiling, “Taehyung?”

“Yeah, he asked me to come but if it’s going to be a problem I’ll just leave,” You kept saying.

“Why would it be a problem? I’ve been meaning to text you but—yknow, um,” Jungkook cleared his throat awkwardly, leading you away from the group. It’s not that he didn’t want you around them but he was only comfortable with you right now. He didn’t need everyone hearing him.

“Alright, you don’t have to explain it,” You brushed him off, turning to the bar and debating if you wanted a drink or not. You weren’t in the mood to but now that you’ve seen Jungkook with another girl, you might.

“Kook, Y/n, want a shot?” Taehyung asked, trying to get you both to go back with everyone.

“I’m driving,” Jungkook said. He had a small sip earlier but he’s not here to drink all night then get stuck Ubering--especially not now that you’re here. What if you go home with him [he means take you home].

“Y/n?” He turned to you only and you contemplated. Jungkook bit his lip in thought, tempted to say no on your behalf but he wanted to know what you’d do. Taehyung invited you tonight and last weekend too, why? He’s happy you’re here but why is Taehyung the one making a move?

“I’m good, I’ll get something else,” You lied, turning away from the group. Part of you wanted to leave then and there but Jimin dropped you off and you’d need to call him back.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to follow you to the bar but you didn’t try and order anything. He even asked if you wanted something but you didn’t, “Jungkook just be honest, should I leave? I know you said you want me here but I don’t know… if you wanna hang out with your friends or, yknow, other girls I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. I just came because I wanted to talk but… I don’t know.”

“Is it because of Sera? Y/n, I don’t like her or anything. I want you here, I’m sorry for not inviting you,” Jungkook tried to reassure you but you weren’t really listening.

“This isn’t about her, it’s you. You’re the one being confusing, Kook,” You admitted.

“Me?” He looked genuinely taken back, “How?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as a shield between you knowing he’d try and pull you closer like he usually did. You weren’t the type to argue with someone in public but you were a little annoyed.

“Are we friends? Because if we are don’t try and kiss me then ignore me for days and go out with someone else—“

“Are you serious right now?” He asked, “That’s what you’re mad about? You’ve been doing that to me for the past few weeks with your friend Namjoon.”

“What? That’s not true, I’ve told you every time I was gonna hang out with him. You only call me when you think I’m with someone else,” You told him bitterly.

“You don’t honestly believe that. I call you more than you bother reaching out to me. You only call me when you need a ride or you’re drunk and bored,” Jungkook said, standing a foot away from you so you could hear him better, “You flirt with me and I think there’s something there but then you brush me off or go with someone else. I’ve been trying to make things more clear but you make it so hard.”

“I make it hard?“ Your jaw nearly dropped, “Alright this is stupid. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He knows what you’re doing and he doesn’t want to play along. Any time the two of you talk about something a little too complicated you start to backtrack in order to avoid it. No, if you wanted him to be honest you had to let him. After the first night you almost kissed, you didn’t message him for a couple days. He’s the one who reach out to you. This time around he’s the one that left because Namjoon was on your phone and he didn’t know what to make of it. He should’ve asked if anything was serious between the two of you but he was too cowardly to do it and left instead. Maybe you were mad he didn’t reach out but why didn’t you try? Yes, you came here hopefully looking for him but the second you see him talking to someone else and confront him about it suddenly you’re shutting down?

Who’s leading who on?

Yoongi saw most of your interaction from across the bar. You weren’t full on arguing but it’s obvious the two of you had things you wanted to say but didn’t know how. After a while he didn’t want to just sit back and ignore it. He at least wanted to know if you were both alright.

When he made his way over he tried asking you again if you wanted a drink or if Jungkook wanted to join him outside. You took that as a sign to make an escape for a moment and rushed to say, “I’m going to the restroom.”

Jungkook was stuck between following and waiting for you or going with Yoongi but his hand trembled with nerves and he needed fresh air. His friend offered him a smoke and he took it reluctantly knowing you’d hate the smell of it on him. Even when he’s sort of upset with you he can’t make himself do something you don’t like.

“What are you guys fighting about?” Yoongi asked taking the cigarette Jungkook rejected and lit one for himself.

“It’s stupid,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath.

“Clearly not when you look worked up,” Yoongi said, “Tell me.”

“There’s been a couple times that we almost kissed and I thought she was talking to someone else but now she’s acting upset with me and I don’t know why. I’m not doing anything, the other night we almost kissed again but I couldn’t bring myself to do it and then the guy texts her. I didn’t know Taehyung asked her to come and now she thinks I don’t want her here and probably thinks I’m into Sera but I’m not,” Jungkook began to let it all out, hands running through his hair nervously.

Yoongi couldn’t hide the look of surprise on his face over the fact that you guys had never kissed before. It was sort of a running joke between all of them that you’re both secretly hooking up but it appears not to be the case. You both had been good friends until then and all the bottled up emotions are finally begging to be let out. It made him chuckle over how dumb it was.

“Did you bother to ask her about him? Actually ask and not make assumptions like you always do?” Yoongi asked, “Because honestly, I think you’re both into each other and don’t know what to do about it.”

“You don’t get it hyung, I can’t just ask Y/n that…” Jungkook groaned with frustration, “I’m being so pathetic, aren’t I?”

“A little. You pay for a parking spot specifically for Y/n and she’s not even your girlfriend. You want her to be so just talk it out.”

“I’m gonna talk to her,” Jungkook bit his lip, watching Yoongi finish up and ask him if we was ready to go back in. When he did, you were standing there talking to Sera and he wasn’t sure what it could be about.

Honestly, it was nothing to worry about. She saw you looking clueless after your restroom break and introduced herself as one of Yoongi’s friends. Although you wanted to ask her about Jungkook she didn’t even bring him up. When he went up to you both but placed a dominant hand around your waist.

It answered what Sera already knew, that he was claimed for even if neither of you said it. His heart was with you.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked suddenly, “For the other night?”

“No, I’m confused,” You let him turn you in his arms so that you faced him, “I thought you wanted to kiss but then you stop it and when I wake up you’re gone. It’s fine if you just want to be friends but don’t lead me on like that.”

For a moment he wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t think you’d say it so bluntly but you did. You’ve been thinking about those Almost Kisses you’ve shared just as much as he has. He just didn’t expect you to be thinking he was leading you on. He thought you were leading him on.

“I’m not… Can we go and talk somewhere?” He asked, trying to take your hand in his but you rejected his advance. Once again you probably looked like a couple arguing and it was so stupid.

“I just wanna go,” You told him and to keep you from leaving he pushed his keys into your hands.

“Let’s go then,” He said. You looked at him with a small smile, feeling somewhat upset with him but also unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to leave on your own but you also wanted to hear him out.

You pushed them back into his hand with a sigh, “No, you’re here with your friends, I shouldn’t have even bothered.”

“Y/n, I don’t care I wanna leave with you, let’s go,” He turned to his friends, not bothering to get closer as he began to wave, “I’m gonna call it a night guys, Y/n’s taking me home.”

“Kook,” You couldn’t help but whine. He just smiled, leading you out the club and you learned he wasn’t kidding. He really was making you take him home in his own car, hoping it’d keep you from parting ways with him tonight.

“I didn’t know it seemed like I was leading you on,” Jungkook said, almost sounding bitter at the thought of it. He slumped back in the passenger’s seat staring out at the dark city lights trying to process what you time him not too long ago.

You didn’t say anything and that made him turn to you, “You’re the one that’d ditch me for that Namjoon guy.”

“I didn’t ditch you, every single time you asked me about him and I tried telling you how it was, you’d stop me,” You reminded him, thinking back to every time he’d bring up someone else and ignore every time you told him it wasn’t anything serious, “And how was I not supposed to think you were leading me on? One second you act like you want to kiss and the next you’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong about how I acted but it was because I was jealous. You knew I was jealous I just kept acting like I wasn’t and look at where we are now. You’re mad at me,” Jungkook shook his head, “And I want to kiss you. I think about kissing you all the time and that night—those nights… I regret not doing it but sometimes I can’t read you.”

“I never know where your head’s at. One second you’re in my arms and I think there’s something between us but then you… I don’t know, I feel like you know I’ll always be around,” He admitted, looking out his window to avoid your sudden stare.

The rest of the ride was silent and though Jungkook could tell there was a lot on your mind you weren’t saying any of it. He feels more assured now knowing that you felt the same way he did but it’s like going in circles talking about this. He just wants to get you in his arms and act like you both haven’t made it more complicated than it needs to be.

When you parked his car in the lot of his apartment, you turned the engine off and turned to face him, confused on what to do now. Do you sleep over or get yourself a ride home? Jungkook had pushed his seat back to get more comfortable but now it felt like you were farther from him than he liked. You looked back to find him already staring at you. His eyes fell to the way you nervously licked your lips and he couldn’t take it anymore.

The sound of his belt unbuckling caught you off guard you almost missed how he leant forward so suddenly you nearly pulled back. His lips collided with yours with such need that you met with equal eagerness. He slipped his hand down your hair toward your neckline keeping you from pulling back. Jungkook doesn’t know how to describe the kiss.

It was good, better than he imagined but was it the kiss or just you? Was it the fact that was finally getting a taste of you? You leaned forward, bumping into the middle console to kiss him a little harder, tongues meeting in a wet, tender way that had you gasping lightly. If this was what was on your mind for so long, you now knew why. Kissing him felt good, felt different and you didn’t want to stop.

“Inside,” He tried to say between kisses but he found it hard to pull away. The word just came out in an airy whisper, struggling to find sound.

He pulled back with a small groan, hand in your hair and forehead pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath, “Let’s go inside, please?”

Your small nod was enough for him to storm out of the car, rounding to your side and helping you out of the car, leading you up. Up the stairs he stopped every now and then to plant a small kiss on your shoulder or neck, arms around your waist.

“Don’t like when you’re mad at me,” Jungkook said, unlocking his door and taking you in, “And I was jealous about Namjoon, so stupidly jealous because he texted you and I saw it on your phone an—“

“There’s nothing going on between us,” You assured him, “And I was never mad at you. I thought you didn’t want me—“

“Crazy, you’re crazy to think that,” Jungkook cupped your face in his hands, “You’re the only one I want and I’m sorry I didn’t make it more clear.”

You smiled, arms around his neck as he hoisted you up so he could kiss you better and walk toward his living room, “Me too.”

He carried you to the couch, taking a seat and pulling you onto his lap with ease. You didn’t hesitate to make yourself comfortable, leaning down to kiss him as his hands moved up your waist. He let you take the lead for a little bit, head tilted to the side when you kissed near his ear making a small smile appear on his face. His ears were sensitive and everyone knew that. Whenever you tried whispering something in his ear, he’d practically have to shove you away or it’d make goosebumps form on his skin. Now you’re kissing up his ear lobe and he was sinking into the couch pulling you with him.

A light frown left his lips when he felt you nip at his lobe with your teeth and his head fell forward, nearly bumping your shoulder making him tug on your neckline to kiss your exposed collarbone. You lifted his chin with a light finger touch and met him with a kiss. His hands slipped under your top, feeling along your smile like he’s done before. He likes to feel how warm you are under his fingertips, like to feel your natural curves. You liked the way his rough hands felt against your sides when he ran his hands up, nearly touching your chest before tracing them back down.

Jungkook couldn’t hide his growing erection when you pressed down against his lap. It didn’t help that you were licking along his bottom lip tugging on it with your teeth until you were tongue kissing. He sat straighter, hands itching to rip your top off. He’s seen you in sultry outfits that made his head turn everytime and he’s interested to see what was under.

“Kook,” You sighed softly, pulling away from the sloppy kiss to catch your breath. Your lips felt number and swollen and his did too. He was so damn kissable and you can’t believe you haven’t done this yet. What were you so worried about all this time? He looked at you with these spark in his eyes and lip between his teeth, hands around your waist and bulge pressed against you. You looked down at his lap, shifting back a little before grinding forward again. A deep groan caught in his throat when you did it and he looked at you hopefully.

“You’re so hot,” Your hands ran along his lean shoulders down toward the bottom of his shirts and helped you yank it off of him without a second thought. You’ve seen him shirtless countless of times, in person and on the phone. You’ve felt his body when he’s rolled over in his sleep to cuddle and it doesn’t ever leave your mind how attractive your friend is. You remember when he first started getting his tattoos done and when he first started boxing. He got so much stronger and his tattoos just got so much hotter.

You leaned forward, kissing softly against his neck, hands feeling up his abs and hip bucking into him. His hands guided your hips against him, hard dick feeling constricted in his jeans and when you kissed near his pecs he released a light moan.

“Stop, you’re going to drive me insane if you don’t,” He groaned, hands pulling on your top.

“You want me stop?” You asked, grinding down on him. You were starting to feel needy and aroused. If he wanted you to stop, maybe you should before you take it too far.

“No,” Jungkook finally yanked your top off you, catching your lips with his, tongue searching the inside of your mouth, “Don’t want you to.”

His hands wandered south, inching up the small fitted skirt you wore tonight. Last time he saw you in something revealing was when you’d gone off to see Namjoon wearing a dress. He remembered eyeing you closely wishing you weren’t leaving and wondering if you’d dressed up for someone else. Now you’re grinding down on him with your skirt bunch around your hips, bucking into him with a thin pair of panties on and it drove him insane. His jeans were in the way of letting him feel your head against him and he couldn’t take it. A small squeal left your lips when he swiftly turned you to lie on the couch, trapped underneath him with your legs around his waist.

Jungkook kept his hardened dick in his pants, pressed between your spread legs as he kissed down your neck, leaving love bites behind while his hands began to trace your sides. You breathed heavily in anticipation when he tugged your bra down exposing your breasts over the cups and he didn’t hesitate to keep going. His touch was eager as he licked between them, cupping your right boob with his hand while kissing the other. He sucked your hardened nipple into his, humping his erection against your clit. You released a small moan when he ran his tongue around your bud, lost in himself Jungkook groaned when you pulled on his hair softly.

You snuck a hand between your bodies and reached for his belt. The jeans felt rough against your wet panties but it also felt good to have something to bump into. In all honesty, you liked grinding against him but you need more.

Now.

Jungkook lifted his body up slightly, not bothering to break away from worshiping you in kisses and helped you unbuckle his belt.

“You want it?” Jungkook asked in a husky whisper, throat sore and lust in his eyes. You nodded your head watching him sit back on his haunches, using his skilled fingers to undo it the rest of the way and tug the zipper down. He kicked them off without much or a care for the things on his coffee table and with his other hand, he held your hips, “Say it.”

A soft whine left your lips as you got the hint and turned onto your stomach, your head so close to the armrest of the couch and knees digging into the cushion below you. You’ve been in this living room a hundred times but never thought you’d be in this position. He pulled your panties down with ease, not bothering with the skirt as he pulled it up so it was around your waist and gave him a perfect view of what you looked like bent over. He couldn’t help but place a hand on the round of your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh with his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

Jungkook was pathetically desperate for you and couldn’t find it in himself to pull away enough to pull his briefs all the way down. Instead, he lowered them enough for his hard cock to spring free. You hadn’t said anything yet, seemingly stuck in a lust filled daze, arms using the side of the couch for support. He could see the slick lining your pretty cunt and he needed to be closer. He lined his member up with your files, grinding against you and feeling your wetness coat his member in arousal.

You released a moan, arching your back into the couch and ass back on him, “I want it.”

His cock twitched with need when you said it in your usual whiny tone. The tone you use when you call him late at night because you’re bored or annoyed with him. Jungkook nodded his head even though you couldn’t see him, he used a hand on your hips and the other in his length to catch the small hook of your entrance. You were so unbelievably wet that his dick was covered, it made guiding the tip of his cock against your wet pussy better.

“You’re so wet, baby, fuck,” Jungkook groaned, palming your ass as you waited so prettily for him to just fuck you already.

He can tell you were getting impatient by the way you shook your hips side to side and he couldn’t help but smile. Feeling warmth burst through his chest he leant over your body, resting his arm next to yours and kissed your neck. Without another word, he pressed his face against your hair and thrusted forward. With just the first thrust, you felt the stretch of your walls around his girth. It hurt for only a few seconds as you took him in and you lifted your head, stopped by how Jungkook hugged you from behind.

“Oh,” You gasped turning your head to look at him and he caught your open lips with a tongue kiss that made you relax against him. It took him a moment before he pushed the rest of his length into your tight pussy with a grunt.

Once he felt you relax, he tried to sit back, thrusting into you with care trying to adjust. You pushed back against his length, meeting his thrusts until you caught a steady rhythm and Jungkook’s fingers dug into your hips, watching the way you looked as he fucked you from behind in his living room. You felt so good to him. Your walls tightened around him deliciously making his head tip back losing himself to the feeling. “Right there.”

At this angle with your back down and ass up, his dick felt your innermost walls clench, he felt the curve of your pelvis and your butt felt soft.

“Fuck,” your head fell against the arm rest trying to keep up with your pace but he was bigger than you ever could’ve thought of. You’ve felt a hint of it before but to have him inside you making your body shiver with need it was hard to focus on your movements. Jungkook could feel you slow down as you felt the pleasure build up inside you. It brought him back to attention and with more assertive energy, he placed a hand on your ass and the other on your lower back, making sure you stayed in position so he could fuck you.

Your jaw dropped when his strokes changed making him reach deeper inside you. This position always made you feel dirty in a good way and left you a moaning mess, letting him slam his hips into you. Swear beaded his forehead, fucking you chasing his and your pleasure.

“So good, so fucking good,” He groaned, arm circling around your waist and lowering more of his hips into you. The tip of his cock hit that good spot deep inside that made you want to clench your eyes shut.

“Koo,” You tried to get out more of his name but it was harder to hold yourself together, fucking back onto his dick with eagerness, needy whimpers leaving your lips. You pushed against the armrest trying to stand up a little, itching to be closer to him.

You didn’t even need to tell him anything, he pulled your back against his chest until your were nearly sitting back on his dick, grinding against him, taking every inch he gave you. He placed a hand on your navel, keeping you flush to his body, dropping needy kisses on your neck knowing it’d leave love bites in their wake.

Your orgasm began to build up inside you, so close to popping and it made you a little more pliant to take whatever he gave you. You fucked yourself back onto him while his other hand groped your tits, listening to his whispers of need in your ear telling you how good you’re taking it.

“Just like that, cum for me,” Jungkook said with a deep rasp to his usual delicate tone. It’s like he wanted to walk you through it and fuck, it was working.

The moment your cunt clamped down around his dick leaving him to hiss through gritted teeth, he knew you were going to cum. He let you fuck yourself to release, whining in his arms and legs shaking as he held you up.

He slowed his hips, keeping himself to the hilt inside you feeling the way your orgasm made your body tremble for him. Your pussy was dripping around his length and he was tracing soothing lines against your spine as you fell back to the couch trying to catch your breath, “Good girl.”

His words had a clear effect on you still as your pussy twitched, making him smile. He never took you as the type to like pet names but he knew you liked to be praised. Well, he knew you hated being scolded but usually you listened to him when he did. Now he knows praising you feels a lot better.

Jungkook sucked in a tight breath as he began to pull out his aching member, worried you’d be feel uncomfortable right now. The need to cum was so heavily set into his body but he wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t wearing any protection and though there’s a chance you’re taking anything, he wasn’t going to risk losing himself inside you. A little whine left your lips as he slipped out and you couldn’t help but look back at him with furrowed brows.

“You good?” He asked with concern, caressing your side lovingly. You didn’t say anything, turning to sit up and wrap your arms around him. He groaned when you rubbed against his cock on accident and you looked down at it immediately.

He caught your stare and smiled, “Can we finish this somewhere else? The couch is a little too small…”

You laughed, “There’s more?”

You were teasing him and you both knew it which only made him roll his eyes playfully. With a swift move, he lifted you up, carrying you to the bathroom catching you by surprise, “You didn’t think we were done yet did you? What about me?”

✮

A MONTH LATER

“You guys are so bad at hiding it,” Mirae said as she sat in the packed booth of your friends, all watching you hold hands under the table. You looked at her with feigned innocence, shoving Junhkook’s hand off your thigh.

“Hiding what?” You asked, looking at everyone around. Taehyung sat on one end, Yoongi next to him, Jimin there and Mirae too. They all looked equally unimpressed but your act but it was somewhat funny.

Jungkook tried to hide a grin but he was so bad at it. He smiled at you warmly, “Told you.”

“It’s your fault, I bet we could’ve hid it a little longer if you didn’t smile,” You tried to say but even you didn’t believe yourself. Jungkook didn’t even bother to look guilty as he broke out in a laugh. Yoongi chuckled, looking at the way Jungkook’s cheeks flushed red when you looked at him a little too long.

“I knew the second Y/n stopped coming to work all moody because she wasn’t talking to Jungkook,” Jimin pointed out and Mirae agreed quickly.

Hoseok sighed, “I knew when Jungkook stopped giving me killer workouts at the gym. I almost broke my shoulder.”

“Whoa, I’m a great personal trainer,” Jungkook put a hand to his chest, “Don’t come at my profession.”

“I’m not, I’m pointing out the fact that you were always moodier when you didn’t see Y/n,” Hoseok argued.

Jungkook couldn’t even deny it so he didn’t try. Instead he place his hand back down on your thigh and leaned into you to share the dinner menu, “Are you gonna try something new? You’re picky.”

“I might want to expand my horizons,” You looked over everything with a concentrated expression.

He raised an amused brow at you, surprised when the server came around and you actually did try something new. He let the others go before him and when it came to being his turn, he ordered your usual.

“Are you switching it up too?” The server asked, all too familiar with the two of you and your eating preferences.

“It’s in case she doesn’t like it,” He admitted with a sly wink in your direction. You hit his arm playfully and turned toward your friends who glared at you grossly.

“I’m losing my appetite,” Jimin teased, looking at Mirae as she texted away on her phone, “You?”

“Kinda, I don’t know, Jisoo just asked what I’m doing,” Mirae said.

Jungkook looked up with slight interest. He tried not to be the jealous type but… Jisoo is friends with Namjoon. He’s met the guy now and he’s not that bad but he’s also way taller than him with a bulkier physique.

“What is he doing? Tell him and his friends join us,” Jungkook said suddenly making her furrow her brows at him.

“He wants to see Namjoon again, I think he’s got a little crush on him,” You told her, making him shrug.

“The guy is built,” he said, “I just wanna know what pre-workout he takes.”

“And to think you spent all this time not liking him because you didn’t like Y/n talking to him,” Taehyung said, feeling the need to bring up the awkward part. You glared at him but he only smiled mischievously.

“Hey, let’s move on from that,” You said leaning against Jungkook who pulled you closer, “We’re all just friends.”

“Except you two, so can you just say you’re dating already and we can go on with the usual?” Yoongi asked impatiently.

“I thought you said we were bad at hiding it,” your boyfriend sat up, pulling you into his arms giving you a tight hug and looked at his friends, “But fine, this is my best friend and girlfriend.”

“Whoa, I thought I was your best friend now. Y/n can’t have both titles,” Taehyung scoffed, sitting up, “I practically brought you two together. I mean yeah I was fucked up that first night but once I caught on I was the one always inviting Y/n over.”

“I’m the one who told Jungkook to get his head out of the gutters and talk to Y/n,” Yoongi said with a raised finger to state a point.

“Not to join in on the fight but… I also tried getting Y/n to talk about Jungkook and drove her to JJ’s the other night,” Jimin leaned forward to say and suddenly they were all arguing over who brought the two of you together.

It was stupid but friendly and it made you laugh with amusement.

“I’m not the jealous type, right?” Jungkook asked you as he thought about what Taehyung said earlier instead of their current banter, “I didn’t care that you talked to Namjoon… I just, y'know I didn’t want you to like him, there’s a difference.”

His face looked confused in a surprisingly cute way for your motorcycle riding, tattoo covered boyfriend and it made you smile. “Of course you’re not the jealous type.”

Jungkook smiled back warmly, leaning into you for a quick kiss.

When your food arrived you regretted ordering it just like he knew you would and he switched you plates like he knew he would. Aside from the obvious displays of affection nothing else changed for the two of you. Or at least you don’t think it did.

He still came over whenever he felt like it and you bothered him at any hour of the day. When he wasn’t sleeping in your bed trying to keep you from going to work he was checking his phone for a text from you throughout the day.

You’re not sure if it’s because he was your friend first but your relationship with Jungkook was a perfect mix of love and affection with ease and playfulness.

Your best friend was the one for you and he’d been right in front of you the whole time.

::.

NO PART TWO

two fics in two months??? who do I think I am 😜

honestly I kinda liked this friendly little vibe. I wanted more angst but idkkk. they kinda gave toxic but not like super hide red flag toxic. they’re in their twenties yall 😭

I’m preparing for this angsty yandere fic for Taehyung so I wanted to something a little softer, slice of life vibe

anyways like always, love feedback so tell me what you think!

permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @saweetspoiled @babycandy111 @jeonninja @skzthinker @beautywine @lilliankoo @lesoleile @burnahtsw @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @whoa-jo @sunnikthv @kochycooky @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @annabtsangels @hyunjinswifeee @bangtans-momma @butterymin @kaiparkerwifes @junggukjeonfreakinwife @ily4jknity @ryuzakiswife-blog @futuristicenemychaos @honeybunnykoo @aindrila @cherrymoonlight t @parkinglot-nights @llallaaa @crooked-haven @butterflykpoplover @sakuragongju @ackward-maknae @investedreader @junggukjeonfreakinwife [also if you’ve tried joining masterlist but haven’t been added it’s bc I’m only allowed to tag 50 people! I usually try and warn when I’m going to post so I recommend turning on my post notifs when you know a fic is coming sorry 😭]

[teaboot]

I feel like if you're using a lot of disposable plastic bags in your day to day life, you've gotta do something sustainable to make up for it. Like using bamboo toilet paper or eco friendly cat litter or something, yknow

Honestly I exaggerate for comedic effect, while I DO routinely use ziplock bags to hold spaghetti I cook maybe once a month and the bag itself is usually for freezer storage. I actually throw out maybe one bag a week? I DO hate washing plates and tupperware and junk but that usually just means I eat sandwiches without a plate.

I agree though that needless waste should be avoided, and I do avoid it- biodegradable bags and recyclables, empty butter tubs used to store leftovers, etc.

This said, though, not applicable necessarily for myself but for a lot of others- I feel that it's importat to remember that there are many people who legitimately NEED things like plastic straws, or catheters, or pre-packaged foods

And the idea that that's a moral failing that individuals need to personally make up for when a single billionaire blows out more CO2 in a long weekend than I will in my whole life on a superjet meet-cute in the Bolivian rainforest between humvee drag races funded by the river-polluting textiles plants they planted in a third world country to avoid EPA laws and give an entire village stillbirths and stomach cancer is an idea that those very same bigwigs have spent a LOT of time and money investing in planting in the public psyche.

Like- Glass bottles are infinitely recyclable, so why are so many drinks in plastic now? Loads of drinks manufacturers used to buy them back and clean them for re-use, so why did they stop? If they chose to make something out of a limited and environmentally irresponsible material, why is it my failing to track down a correct process of disposal for them? What if there are none in my area? Do I lobby for more recycling plants in my area? Do I set aside some of my limited time outside the pain factory of my job- which I have more than one of, thanks to rising costs of things just like that drink I just emptied- to properly dispose of this company's waste FOR them?

Say coca-cola just rolled up to your town and started dumping millions of empty plastic bottles in the street, going, "wow, you should really think about building and staffing a recycling depot, it would be really shameful of you to just put these in the trash." When companies purposefully use materials with limited lifespans- because yes, even plastic can only be reused so many times- and tell you it's your own fault if it harms the environment- that's essentially what they're doing, just with more steps.

Yes, its important to be as environmentally concious as we can in our day to day life, but responsible sustainability is not catholicism. We don't get good boy points from our lord and savior Captain Planet every time the average low-income household gathers together to hold hands and repent for a single-use plastic that allows them to access something they need.

Entire families could eat trees and shit dead lithium batteries for years and still not do as much damage to the planet as an average dye plant or braindead celebrity does in a week just for fun, and I'm mad about it

...this went on longer than intended.

TL/DR: DO recycle and minimize waste, but don't beat yourself up over the little waste you can't avoid, and follow the money.

EDIT: Part 2

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　DRESS TO IMPRESS IN REAL LIFE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, Matt's secret girlfriend, participates in the 'Dress to Impress in real life' video.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I added and changed some dialogs that didn't happen on the video, so the fic ended being more complete.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The triplets were buzzing with energy, their house a hive of activity as they set up for their newest video; Dress to Impress, real-life edition. Each round had its own theme, and the first one was Summer Vacation. Y/N had been roped into joining as a surprise guest, and secretly, Matt couldn't have been more thrilled.

The boys had already pulled out all the stops with their outfits. Chris sported a chaotic ensemble: a bucket hat with panels of clashing colors, lime green slides, and denim cargo shorts.

Matt was rocking a relaxed, dad-on-vacation vibe, complete with an oversized straw hat, patterned swim trunks, and a shirt that screamed, 'I don’t care, I’m on island time'.

Nick had gone full beach prep with a striped tank top, sunglasses that were almost too tiny for his face, and a retro cooler box tucked under his arm like an accessory.

As the camera rolled, Y/N was still getting ready in Matt’s bathroom, leaving the boy's to discuss who went better between the three of them.

"Alright." Chris said, pointing a finger at Nick’s cooler. "I’m just saying, if you don’t actually have anything in there, that’s a waste of a prop."

"It’s called committing to the bit, Chris." Nick shot back, adjusting the towel draped over his shoulder. "The cooler is the vibe."

Matt, who was adjusting his sunglasses, glanced toward the bathroom door, his face lighting up as if he could sense Y/N’s presence through the walls.

"Y/N better bring it. I know she’s got something amazing up her sleeve."

Nick rolled his eyes, looking at Matt with a boring expression.

"Why do I feel like you’re already planning to give her every win, no matter what she’s wearing?"

"Because I am." Matt replied bluntly, grinning like the lovesick puppy he was.

The door finally creaked open, and all three boys turned as Y/N emerged. She had nailed the summer vacation aesthetic, wearing a flowy, tropical-patterned sundress, bikini top below it, oversized black Prada sunglasses perched on her nose, and sandals that matched her outfit perfectly. She’d even added a straw beach bag for good measure.

"Okay, Y/N, I see you!" Chris exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

Y/N laughed, grinning widely before twirling to show off her look.

"Alright, that’s tough competition. You actually look like you're ready to spend the day at your beach house." Nick gave a low whistle, his blue eyes traveling from her face to her feet and back again. "But I'd say you're in fourth place. You're ready for the beach, not for any summer vacation."

"Fair." Y/N shrugged, take a quick peak at her outfit again before looking at Matt. "What do you think?"

Matt's eyes seemed to be shining like the whole cadence of stars, wandering through every detail of her choice of clothes.

"Are you kidding? That’s... that’s so good. You look like you stepped out of a summer vacation catalog or something." His voice sounded slightly high-pitched with excitement. "Nick's just jealous."

"What? No, I'm not!"

Chris rolled his eyes, already sensing where this was going.

"Oh, here we go."

"Like, if I saw you on the beach." Matt continued, ignoring his brothers entirely. "I’d probably just pass out. That’s how good you look."

"Okay, Matt." Nick said, holding up a hand. "We get it. Obsessive fucker."

The room filled with laughter, Y/N shaking her head but unable to hide the grin spreading across her face, her cheeks heating up.

"Right, first round? I'm second." Matt declared, gesturing toward himself. "Obviously, Y/N was first because, you know, she's Y/N." He gave her a little smile. "Then Nick was third, and Chris was fourth. That’s the average."

"Yeah, unfortunately." Nick muttered, throwing his hands up.

"Well." Chris turned dramatically to the camera and pointed. "They can vote."

Nick, not missing a beat, leaned closer to the camera, his voice dripping with mock confidence.

"Oh, I already know they’re gonna vote for me. Mine’s obviously the best. Unless..." He paused for dramatic effect, raising an eyebrow. "These girls wanna sleep with Matt and vote for him."

"What?!" Matt’s eyes widened in pure shock as he whipped his head toward the camera, looking utterly scandalized.

Y/N’s eyes flicked between Nick and Matt, her lips tightening slightly trying to suppress a laugh. It was impossible not to be amused by Nick’s antics.

She knew Nick wasn’t wrong, Matt’s popularity with their audience also had to do with his charm and, let’s face it, how good he looked on camera. There probably were plenty of girls who’d vote for Matt purely because of his looks, even if one of the other boys dressed better.

Nick continued without missing a beat.

"It’s the straight man advantage! You guys..." He gestured wildly at the camera. "Are gonna discriminate against me because I’m gay, and I don't like 'yall back."

At that, Y/N couldn’t help but burst into laughter, shaking her head.

Matt, still recovering from Nick’s bold accusation, raised a hand defensively.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on a second." He looked straight into the camera with that intense, sincere gaze that Y/N loved. "Just for the record, I’m completely off-limits. Completely."

The way he said it, firm and definitive, sent a wave of confidence through Y/N. Her lips twitched into a small smile as she crossed her arms, clearing her throat to contain her reactions, trying to play it cool.

Nick, however, wasn’t done.

"Oh, yeah? You really think they care about that?" He teased, smirking as Matt shook his head in disbelief.

Chris rolled his eyes, still laughing.

"Nick, stop trying to guilt-trip them into voting for you."

"I'm not doing anything." Nick replied with a wink, sending the group into another fit of laughter.

"Now, bring the runway on, boys!"

The camera cut to Chris, who had appointed himself the first to strut down their makeshift runway that started from the stairs.

He walked in quick steps before stopping in the center of their camera lens, dramatically fanning himself with an imaginary hand fan.

"Where did you even get the idea of the imaginary fan?" Y/N teased, laughing with the others.

"Shh, it’s part of the vibe." Chris replied, flipping his bucket hat backward with flair. He strolled toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, striking a series of ridiculous poses. "Yeah, you’re welcome." He said as he walked off-camera, leaving the other three in stitches.

Nick went next, cooler in hand.

"Get ready to witness greatness." He said, lifting the retro cooler above his head like it was the Holy Grail, showing it off.

"You go, queen!" Y/N cheered, nodding her head while watching him.

Nick smiled brightly, placing it down carefully and reached for the towel draped over his shoulder, unfolding it with slow, deliberate movements. Too slow.

"This is taking forever." Matt groaned, crossing his arms.

"Nick, it’s been 30 seconds. Just lay the towel down!" Chris yelled.

Nick ignored them, carefully smoothing out the towel on the floor, his face the picture of focus. Once he was satisfied, he walked down the "runway", throwing some expressions to the camera before almost gluing his face to the lens, taking his glasses off.

"Iconic." Y/N said between laughs.

"Thank you, thank you." Nick replied, bowing before dramatically kicking the towel aside as if to signal the end of his performance, his right hand fanning himself as the last act.

Matt was up next.

"Alright, let me show you how it’s done." He said confidently. Grabbing his sunscreen, he opened the cap and squeezed a dollop onto his fingers, dabbing it on his cheeks like football player stripes.

"Well, you gotta stay protected, I guess." Y/N muttered, smiling with how Chris was rooting like crazy.

Laughter escaped her lips as Matt sauntered toward the camera, showing off the sunscreen like it was a designer handbag. He struck a confident pose, holding the product up, before walking back off the camera with an over-the-top smile.

Finally, it was Y/N’s turn.

"Your move, Y/N." Nick said, gesturing grandly toward the imaginary runway.

"Alright, alright, give me a second." She said, thinking fast.

She reached into her straw bag, pulling out the pair of oversized sunglasses that she had thrown there at some point, dramatically placing it on her face. Then, grabbing a small beach towel she had tucked inside the bag, she draped it over one arm like a sash.

"What’s happening here?" Matt asked, intrigued.

Y/N strolled onto the "runway" with slow, exaggerated movements like a madame arriving at a five-star resort. Halfway down, she pretended to feel the heat, pulling an actual bottle of water from her bag and taking a sip before fanning herself with her hand.

"It has to have the fan move!" Nick applauded, grinning to the scene before being interrupted by Chris’s comment.

"Of course, I created it."

At the end of the runway, Y/N stopped, tossed her sunglasses off dramatically at the ground, and struck a ridiculous pose with one hand on her hip and the other shielding her eyes as if she was shielding her face from the sun.

"That was solid!" Chris exclaimed, clapping.

Matt, meanwhile, was in awe, hands on his head.

"Are you kidding? That was really good. A thousand points. Game over. Y/N wins. Everyone go home."

Nick scoffed.

"Matt, stop simping for two seconds so we can keep this contest going."

"I’m not simping." Matt argued, clearly lying. "I'm just stating facts."

"Shut up, Matt."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

For the Mix-Matched Madness theme, the camera panned to the boys standing in a line, proudly displaying their chaotic ensembles.

Chris was clad in a bright red varsity jacket over a striped shirt, camo pink shorts, and mismatched knee-high socks with chunky boots.

Matt decided for plaid shorts layered over one plaid pant leg, a pastel blue and yellow sweater vest, and a floppy dog-ear cap.

Nick went to a plaid jacket layered over a striped shirt with a perfectly coordinated tie, and matching sweatpants and sneakers.

"Guys, I’m clearly superior." Nick started, raising his eyebrows as he adjusted his glasses. "My outfit is actually intentional, look at this synergy! It screams fashion-forward."

Matt groaned, rolling his eyes and looking at Chris with a 'is he serious?' expression.

"Nick, you’re wearing matchy-matchy plaid in a mix-matched challenge. You’ve missed the assignment!"

"It’s ironic." Nick shot back, crossing his arms. "I’m doing intentional matching. If I were in a real runway right now, people would actually like my outfit."

Chris scratched his head, looking between them.

"Isn’t that kind of cheating, though?"

Before the debate could escalate further, Y/N stepped into the frame, causing all three boys to give her their attention.

Her outfit was next level: a bright purple sequined crop top paired with one lime green legging on her right leg and a fluffy, neon orange sock on the other. She wore a skirt made of layered, clashing floral patterns that didn’t quite match the fuzzy checkered cardigan she threw on top. To finish it off, her accessories included a leopard-print beanie - the one she stole from Matt's closet -, oversized sunglasses, and two entirely different shoes, a silver stiletto on one foot and a Croc on the other.

The boys gawked.

"Okay, now that’s mix-matched madness." Chris said, pointing at her.

"Girl, you look like you fell into a thrift store... and it worked." Nick added, looking both impressed and slightly annoyed.

"How can you still look so good while wearing... that?" Matt asked, pointing at her outfit with his hand while shaking his head in disbelief.

Y/N twirled dramatically, holding out her skirt as she grinned at the camera.

"Thank you, boys. I like to call this 'chaos with confidence'." She invented the random name, throwing a quick kiss to the lens.

Chris threw his hands up.

"Alright, I’m officially placing second now."

Nick groaned, shaking his head dramatically.

"No way. She’s great, but I’m still winning. Look at this tie!"

Matt laughed.

"Nick, your tie doesn’t save you from breaking the theme. You’re disqualified."

The scene cut to the "runway", where each of them showcased their chaotic outfits with an equally chaotic performance.

First up was Nick. He confidently strutted forward, reaching for the end of his tie. With exaggerated flair, he lifted it as if someone were pulling him forward, his face a picture of mock shock and drama, stumbling forward.

"Ey, keep going!" Chris hollered, nodding enthusiastically.

The moment he reached the end of the runway, he grinned mischievously, running his hand dramatically through his hair and tossing a sultry look at the camera before taking off his pink glasses.

"Work it, Nick!" Y/N chimed in, her laughter mixing with the chaos.

Nick turned on his heel with a laugh, sauntering back to the start and throwing a praying gesture, ignoring how Matt laughed, mockingly imitating his act.

Next, Matt stepped up, adjusting his floppy dog-ear cap before suddenly spinning it backward.

"Showtime." He muttered under his breath, earning immediate chuckles from the others. He walked to the camera with a cocky stride, crossing his arms and bending slightly to the side.

For the final move, he pivoted and moonwalked his way back to the start, nearly slipping on his mismatched shoes but recovering with a grin.

"Did you see that? Effortless." Matt declared, earning boos and laughs from the rest.

"You almost ate it, Matt." Y/N teased, shaking her head.

Chris stepped up next. And, of course, he brought drama.

"Hold my jacket." He said, then immediately shook his head. "Actually, no. The floor will."

With exaggerated aggression, he ripped off one of his red lobster gloves, throwing it to the ground with flair. The glove was followed by his belt, which he unbuckled and tossed with equal energy.

"Oh my God." Y/N looked at the camera with wide eyes.

"What is happening?" Nick cackled, practically doubling over, slapping Y/N's arm.

Chris wasn’t done. He walked up to the camera with an intense expression, holding his hands out and touching the screen, acting as if zooming in.

"Enhance." He said, squinting into the lens. Then, as if the camera wasn’t worthy, he spun dramatically on his heel, walked back, and threw off his varsity jacket mid-stride before striking one final pose.

"Now that’s how you do it." Y/N joked, looking at the camera. "Like and subscribe if you want Chris to make a strip tea-"

"Y/N!"

For Y/N's turn, she adjusted her oversized leopard beanie with a dramatic flair and tilted her sunglasses low on her nose, revealing a dead-serious expression underneath. She strutted forward slowly, dragging her stiletto along the ground for added effect. When she reached the camera, she whipped her head to the side, making her orange fluffy sock the star of the moment.

But it didn’t end there. Y/N suddenly crouched down into a deep squat, raising one hand in the air and striking a pose like she was ready to pounce. The boys immediately broke into cheers and laughter.

"Yes, queen!" Nick shouted, jumping in the place and clapping, laughing loudly.

"She nailed it." Matt said with a proud grin, nodding his head.

Y/N slowly stood, turning to the side as if the camera had disappeared, and walked off like nothing had happened.

"Thank you." She said nonchalantly, tossing her hair over her shoulder as the others applauded.

"Alright, I officially retire." Nick said, throwing his arms to the air in a surrender gesture.

"Same." Chris picked up his lobster glove from the floor, grinning.

Matt sighed, smiling at Y/N's figure.

"She’s unbeatable. Let’s not do these challenges anymore if she’s in them."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The scene cut to the next category: Rock Concert. The boys had gathered in front of the camera, each flaunting their edgy outfits.

Chris leaned casually against the wall, dressed in all black with his bandana tied around his head. His sunglasses were perfectly placed, and a Bluetooth speaker hung over his shoulder like a statement piece.

"Clearly, I’m the embodiment of rock concert aesthetic." He said confidently, adjusting his speaker strap.

Nick crossed his arms, giving Chris a side-eye. He was sporting his long-sleeved shirt adorned with skulls and intricate spiderweb patterns paired with black cargo pants and chunky boots.

"Please." Nick retorted. "I’ve got literal death on my shirt. That’s as metal as it gets."

Matt, standing in the middle, smirked. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt, complete with a silver skull belt buckle and leather pants that practically screamed rockstar.

"Yeah, but have you seen my belt?" He argued, lifting his white shirt slightly to show it off. "This is peak rock concert material. I even coordinated it with my jacket."

"Okay, but who do you think the crowd would look at first?" Chris challenged. "The guy with the bandana, all black, and sunglasses? Obviously me. The speaker only makes it better."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"You look like you’re trying to be a cool dad sneaking into a concert." He teased.

"Alright, alright." Y/N interrupted from off-screen, stepping into the camera frame and effectively stealing the show.

Y/N’s outfit was on another level. She wore a black 'Bon Jovi' cropped top with silver detailing that matched the chains on her leather mini skirt. Fishnet tights peeked out from under the skirt, leading down to a pair of knee-high combat boots that added an extra edge to the look. To top it off, she wore a cropped leather jacket with studs on the shoulders and accessorized with chunky silver jewelry and a black choker.

The boys fell silent for a second, staring.

Y/N smiled brightly at them before turning to the camera, raising her right arm and making the 'rock and roll' gesture by raising her pinky and index fingers and lowering the others.

"'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars and live in hilltop houses driving 15 cars..."

"Girl, what the fuck?" Nick widened his eyes, looking from Y/N to the camera with a look that screamed 'are you guys seeing this?'

Matt laughed loudly, recognizing the song from one of the TikTok trends that Y/N had been obsessing over the past few weeks, being quick in imitating her position, and starting singing with her.

"... the girls come easy and the drugs come cheap, we'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat-"

"Okay, that's enough of that." Chris interrupted the pair, gesturing to them while shaking his head in disbelief. "So, Y/N wins."

Nick groaned dramatically.

"Let's take her out right now. I don't wanna play with her anymore."

Matt couldn’t stop smiling.

"Can we just talk about how she’s nailing this? Like, can we get her to join the band we don’t have?"

Y/N laughed, giving a mock bow.

"Thank you, thank you. Now, let's just be clear, I already won." Y/N said with a sly grin, stepping forward. "You'll all lose time if you keep discussing who's the best between you three."

"How can you be so sure?" Chris crossed his arms, carrying a superior instance.

"Because I actually listen to rock." She said, shrugging like it was obvious. "AC/DC, Bon Jovi, Kansas, Asia... should I keep going?"

Nick groaned.

"Okay, that’s true, but it doesn’t count!"

"Doesn’t count?" Y/N repeated, feigning offense. "I think you’ll find that the fact I actually know rock makes me the winner by default." She turned to Chris. "Tell me. Have 'yall even listened to ‘Highway to Hell’ all the way through?"

Chris hesitated, playing with his earphones.

"Uh... I mean." He looked at Nick. "Probably?"

Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

"Thought so." She crossed her arms. "So, I don’t need a skull belt, all-black everything, or death on my chest. I’ve got the actual music taste. Rock is in my veins, boys."

Nick groaned dramatically, throwing his head back.

"She wins. I hate it, but she wins."

"Alright, fine." Chris muttered. "But we still look better."

"Not a chance." Y/N teased, spinning in place again and winking at the camera. "This outfit screams rock goddess."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The boys were now proudly sporting their "Zoom Meeting" outfits. Chris held up his MacBook, Matt adjusted his glasses with a goofy smile, and Nick tugged at his black tie, looking down at his bright heart-shaped boxer shorts with fake professionalism.

"Alright." Chris started, addressing the imaginary Zoom meeting in front of him. "Gentlemen, let’s get to business. As you can see, we’re all clearly dressed to impress."

"Except for Nick." Matt teased, nodding toward his brother's boxer shorts. "The hearts? A little too much, don’t you think?"

Nick scoffed, feigning offense.

"Excuse me, at least I have this tie that says I’m both professional and emotionally available. A winning combo."

Matt rolled his eyes and gestured to his own look.

"Meanwhile, I’ve got balance. Business on top, relaxation on the bottom."

"That’s literally the whole theme." Chris pointed out with a smirk. "You’re not special, Matt."

Y/N watched from her spot leaning against Matt's bathroom door, her legs crossed as she sipped from her mug of coffee that she made while waiting for them to get ready. She was dressed comfortably yet stylishly, rocking an oversized beige knit sweater that draped perfectly off one shoulder, paired with black leggings and fluffy white socks. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, with a few strands framing her face. Despite the boys' chaotic energy, she was nailing the whole "effortlessly cool" vibe.

"Y/N, you’re way too cozy for a Zoom meeting." Chris said, pointing at her as he adjusted his loose white shirt.

"Well." Y/N said with a playful grin. "Unlike you guys, I know how to mix comfy with class. You all just look ridiculous."

Nick gasped, dramatically clutching the box in his hands.

"Ridiculous? Ridiculous?! Look at this tie! I’m the epitome of professionalism!"

Chris leaned toward Y/N, pointing at Matt.

"What about him? He’s literally in boxer shorts."

Y/N rolled her eyes, sipping from her mug to hide her smile.

"You're all wearing it, dumbass." Her eyes lingered on Matt's red boxer shorts for a moment too long. "It’s really interesting that someone would think boxer shorts are appropriate for a Zoom meeting, actually."

Matt smirked, striking a random pose.

"Are you jealous?"

"No?" She said quickly, shaking her head. "I mean, it’s not like anyone else on the Zoom would see them, right?"

The other two brothers caught on instantly, grinning like Cheshire cats.

"Y/N." Nick teased. "Are you saying you wouldn’t let your Zoom co-workers see your boxers?"

"Nick!" She exclaimed, throwing an exasperated look at him. "That’s not the point!"

Chris chimed in, laughing.

"Yeah, Matt. She’s definitely jealous. She wishes she could wear boxers to a meeting."

"I do not!" Y/N huffed, crossing her arms, though a smile tugged at her lips. "I just... don’t understand why he’d even bother wearing the shirt if he’s just going to go full casual anyway."

"It’s called commitment to the aesthetic." Matt said, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder, discretely squeezing the exposed skin. "Something you clearly wouldn’t understand."

"Oh, I understand commitment." Y/N shot back with a smirk, meeting his eyes momentarily. "But let’s be honest, none of you are winning any awards for those outfits."

"Excuse me?" Nick said, pretending to be outraged. "I’m clearly the winner here."

"Winner?" Chris scoffed. "You’re wearing socks pulled up to your knees, bro. That’s not even close to a win."

Y/N chuckled as she watched them descend into a full argument over who had the best Zoom look, but she couldn’t stop her gaze from flickering back to Matt’s outfit. Something about the casual confidence he exuded - boxers and glasses - had her feeling just a little possessive and turned on.

"Alright." She announced, clapping her hands to get their attention. "If you’re all done arguing, let’s see who can really sell their look with a runway walk."

The boys' faces lit up, and they quickly got into character.

Nick was up first, confidently sliding across the wooden floor in his socks, arms spread wide like a figure skater. As he came to a stop, he reached for his boxer shorts and dramatically lowered them until they hit the ground, shouting a little "Oh!".

Matt immediately yelped.

"Nick!" He yelled before lunging forward to cover Y/N's eyes with both hands.

"Matt! What are you doing?!" Y/N laughed, trying to swat his hands away while Chris doubled over in hysterics.

"Protecting your innocence!" Matt declared, keeping his hands firmly over her face.

Nick, unfazed, quickly pulled his boxers back up and began walking toward the camera with exaggerated confidence, tugging at his tie and making ridiculous faces as though he were a real model.

"You’re unbelievable!" Chris murmured through his laughter, wiping a tear from his eye.

"Well, we've got 2 strippers now-"

"Y/N!"

Nick turned dramatically to face her and winked.

"You’re welcome for the show."

Next, it was Matt’s turn. He walked to the middle of the floor, cracking his knuckles with a sly grin before suddenly dropping to his hands and knees.

"Uh, Matt?" Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What...?" Nick added, genuinely confused.

Then, without warning, Matt lifted his left leg to the side like a dog at a fire hydrant.

The realization hit everyone at once, recognizing the movement from one of the rounds of DTI that Matt and Chris played, and the room erupted into cheers and laughter.

"That was perfect!" Chris shouted, clapping his hands.

Matt stood up, brushing imaginary dirt off his shirt with a smirk, and walked toward the camera with crossed arms, striking a serious pose like a model in a high-fashion commercial.

"Okay, that was actually cool." Y/N admitted, giggling as he walked back to join them.

When it was Chris’s turn, he shook his head with a grin.

"I’m sitting this one out." He said.

"What? Why?" Nick asked, incredulous.

Chris shrugged.

"I’m already the main event. I’ll let Y/N steal the spotlight this time."

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up.

"Oh, so now I have to go?"

"You got this!" Matt encouraged, nudging her toward the runway.

"Fine." She said, standing up and straightening her oversized sweater dramatically.

Y/N walked off the camera and took the book she'd been reading the past few days from the coffee table, walking back to the frame before delicately putting it on her head like a balancing act. She strutted confidently toward the camera, balancing it all the way, then stopped to pull out her mug, striking a victorious pose before taking a slow, exaggerated sip. The boys erupted in applause.

"You can call me Barbie now." She started, turning to the boys while opening a wide smile before pretending that her hand was a microphone. "On top of the world where I can see everything before me reaching up to touch the sky-"

"Okay, singer girl, pipe down a bit." Nick raised his right hand, exchanging perplexed looks with Chris, who was laughing.

"Okay, she wins." The youngest admitted, shrugging in defeat.

"Unreal." Matt said, looking at her with obvious pride. "You’re way too good at this, Y/N."

"Okay, okay, she wins. No one can top that." Nick nodded at Y/N. "But I think Chris gets second place in this one."

"No, I give you number one." Chris insisted, pointing to Nick while Matt just observed.

"I can't accept that. I'm just happy Matt's wearing his blue light glasses again." Nick's voice turned dramatically high-pitched, clearly imitating the fandom.

Before anyone could react to him, Matt ripped his glasses off of his face, bending it backward until it snapped, small pieces flying everywhere.

"Matt, why would you do that?" Y/N yelled, looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth - just like the other two - before pouting, looking miserably at the shattered pieces. "I liked that one."

"I don't like those stupid jokes." Matt simply replied, looking unfazed at his brothers and Y/N.

Nick and Chris kept looking from Matt to the camera and back, their expressions full of shock.

"You're going to buy another one just like that one, I don't even care." Y/N ordered, crossing her arms and looking directly at Matt, raising her eyebrows as if to say 'dare disobey me.

"Fine." He sighed. "Sorry."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra - comments:

"okay but can we talk about matt literally saying ‘I’m off limits’? someone tell me what’s going on here 🤡"

"nick casually calling out matt girls for voting on matt only bc they want to sleep with him had me SCREAMING 😭"

"why was Y/N blushing when matt said he was off limits? I SEE YOU, GIRL!!!!"

"the dynamic between Y/N and matt is giving major dating vibes"

"wait, why does matt always seem to hype Y/N up just a little more than chris and nick? like, we get it, dude. she’s awesome. but tone it down, or we’ll all start connecting dots 🤨"

"as a fellow rock fan, I have to say Y/N listening to AC/DC and bon jovi automatically makes her my fave"

"not Y/N convincing matt with zero effort to do the rockstar trend with her 🤧"

"I’m not saying I ship Y/N and matt... but I also kind of ship Y/N and matt. the way he looked at her with that dress??? man, I know that look"

"matt breaking his glasses and then Y/N ordering him to buy another one and him ACCEPTING IT???? and saying sorry???? omg that's just girl boss right there 🙏🏻"

[sleepyhoon]

TWO MOONS - L.HS

pairing. plug!heeseung x reader

genre. smut, 18+ content, one shot, drabble. MDNI!

word count. 4k+

warnings. drug & alcohol consumption, partying, swearing, sex while intoxicated, short smut [ dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), fingering ]

synopsis. based off of this hard thought! plug!heeseung who likes you so much that he's convinced himself that you're kinda evil.

a/n. sorry this took so long lol hope u enjoy regardless :) no part 2 so plss dont request it but maybe some drabbles!! also not fully proofread so pls disregard any typos or grammatical errors hehe

Never in his life did Heeseung predict he’d be getting bitched around by a girl arguably much shorter, physically weaker, and far less intimidating than him. And yet here he was, shirtless in his kitchen at two in the morning on his third attempt of baking edibles all because you were too scared to smoke a little weed. 

Fucking ridiculous.

It’s his own fault, really, he should’ve known that innocent, good girl persona you put on was all an act you use to control people – specifically men. Stirring the dessert batter in the mixing bowl, Heeseung shakes his head at the memory of you tilting your head and batting your eyelashes at him as you spoke, your perfectly manicured nails – that you probably got some desperate bitchboy to pay for – tracing and lightly scratching his bicep.

“So,” you started, dragging out the ‘o’, “how much do you charge for edibles?”

Heeseung shakes his head, tracing the rim of his half-empty red solo cup as he responds, “Edibles aren’t my forte. You don’t smoke?”

“Not my forte,” you say in a mocking tone, making Heeseung chuckle. “It’s just too much, you know? The smell, how quick it kicks in…not for me. But, uh, if you don’t make them I’ll stop wasting your time, then.” You give Heeseung a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning on your heels, fully prepared to disappear back into the party and find someone who actually meets your needs.

“Wait!” Heeseung stops you, tugging on your arm until you’re back to facing him. He can’t fucking believe this bullshit manipulation tactic you’re using on him is actually working, he’s literally pulling on your arm like a child so you won’t leave him.

You raise a brow at him as you wait for Heeseung to continue, taking note of his sudden nervousness, “Yeah?”

“Uh…are you into, like, brownies? Or…”

The smirk you gave in response said enough, you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He’d spent the next few hours browsing the aisles of Target, checking his phone every so often and checking off each ingredient as he tossed them into the bright red shopping cart. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even requested normal brownies, you wanted some shit he’d hardly ever heard of before: blondies. 

It was bad enough that Heeseung already couldn’t bake for shit, and here you were demanding he’d make something he’d never even tasted before; you really are a master manipulator.

His third and final attempt at baking the blondies were a success, his three roommates taste-testing the fresh batch as a final confirmation.

“I can’t even taste it,” Jake says, his brows shooting up in delight, “you sure you’re not forgetting the main ingredient?”

“That’s the whole point,” Heeseung explains, cutting the remaining batch into neat squares, “YN doesn’t want the taste to be too strong, she likes when it’s more subtle and takes awhile to kick in.”

“Are you her wife or her plug?” Sunghoon jokes from his spot on the couch, taking a small bite of his own blondie.

“Neither,” Jay inserts himself into the conversation, taking a seat next to Sunghoon, “I’m sure he wants to be both, though.”

“Fuck off,” Heeseung snaps, momentarily narrowing his eyes at his roommates. “We just met, I’m just trying to get to know her.” He sets the knife down, reaching into the wooden cabinet to retrieve ziplock bags.

“You’re already her bitch, what else is there to know?” Sunghoon half-jokes, resting his feet on the ottoman.

“I am not her bitch.”

He totally is, if the way he’s hurrying to send you a picture of the freshly made blondies is anything to go by.

Heeseung * 2:47 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Yooo

YN * 9:06 AM

omggggg  ur the fucking best how much??

You didn’t respond until the following morning, causing Heeseung to nearly jump out of his skin once he woke up to your texts. He turns on his side, elbow propped up against the mattress as he formulates a response.

Heeseung * 10:31 AM

1 for 10 or 2 for 15. venmo or cashapp But lmk if you want more 

YN * 10:40 AM

no cash? :(

Heeseung’s about to go on a long winded explanation about how money transferring apps are quicker and more convenient than accepting cash when you interrupt him by sending a photo.

YN * 10:41 AM 

[Attachment: 1 Image] plsssss i don’t trust cashapp and ive been having issues w my venmo acc :(

It’s a photo of the bottom half of your face, lips formed into a cute pout with your camera angled low enough to show off your cleavage. You weren’t even trying to be discreet, setting your forearm underneath your chest to make your boobs sit higher, the cheetah print material of your bra peeking out from under your too-small tank top.

Heeseung swallows hard, staring down at the photo with his pupils blown wide as his trembling fingers type out a response.

Heeseung * 10:50 AM

Actually you know what don’t even worry about it lmao Consider it a gift When r u free for pickup Or i can bring to u Either or is fine lol

YN * 10:59 AM

omg :o are u sure?  don’t want u to lose out on money >.<

Heeseung * 11:11 AM

It’s fine dw about me baby U picking up? Or want me to drop off On campus is too risky

YN * 11:12 AM

thank u hee!!!!!!! im done with classes around 4:30 i’ll pick up around then if that works also u responded at 11:11…angel number u must be my angel :o

There you go again with your subtle manipulation tactics that Heeseung swears won’t work on him. If there really is angel out of the two of you, it definitely wouldn’t be you, but Heeseung’s not too sure he’d be considered one either. After all, in the twelve minutes it took him to respond to your message, he spent ten of them fucking into his fist as he stared at the photo you sent.

His mind conjured up countless scenarios; leaving hickeys and bite marks across your chest, slipping his dick between your tits as you held them together for him, cumming all over them, fucking anything. Desperate wasn’t even the word.

Heeseung * 11:13 AM

Must be :)

After a month and a half of being your personal baker slash bitchboy, Heeseung really is convinced that you’re using him, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s grateful, fully aware that if it weren’t for him being your plug, the two of you likely never would’ve crossed paths despite attending the same universities.

There wasn’t an ounce of school spirit in his body, so he had little to no urgency to attend any of the sporting events you cheered at or one of the many school-sponsored events you were required to attend. Meeting you at that party not too long ago had been his first encounter with you ever, and you clearly left him with a great first impression on him.

Since that night, he’s found himself conjuring up a new batch of edibles for you every week; brownies, cupcakes, cereal bars, whatever the fuck you wanted, and half the time he’d do it for free if it meant he got to give it to you in person.

He still hasn’t convinced you to actually smoke, though, but maybe it’s for the best. The mere thought of getting high with you and how you’d stare him down with half-lidded eyes was enough to make his dick hard — in fact, it already has. Several times.

Enough time has passed to the point where it’s obvious to everyone, yourself included, that Heeseung has genuine feelings for you that go beyond a physical and sexual attraction. Sure, he’s still convinced that you’re a little bit evil and definitely manipulative, but he considers it part of the fun. He’s also deluded himself into having the “I can fix her” mindset that he’s been using to justify his actions of ignoring your red flags.

However, even if he can’t “fix” you, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. Red is his favorite color, after all.

“You sound…crazy, and she sounds crazier,” Jake leans against the kitchen counter, raising a concerned brow at Heeseung as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m not crazy,” Heeseung corrects, “and YN is…I don’t know, honestly. Leave her alone, dipshit.”

Jake throws a hand up in defense, glaring when a fellow partygoer accidentally bumps into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink. “Rather be a dipshit than a bitchboy.” He mutters loud enough for Heeseung to hear before groaning, “Wow, speak of the devil.”

Heeseung turns, following Jake’s line of sight until he spots you walking through the front door. Stunning as always, your khaki mini skirt and black halter top fitting as if they were custom designed for you and only you.

Despite extending you an invitation to Sunghoon’s birthday party, Heeseung was fairly certain you wouldn’t show up tonight, assuming you’d be consumed with cheer practice or one of your many extracurricular activities to attend. Yet, here you were, a wicked grin on your face as you made eye contact with Heeseung.

He gulps in return, eyes wide as he watches you walk over to him and Jake.

You stand beside Heeseung, shooting him a quick smile before directing your attention to Jake, “Sunghoon! Happy birthday, king!”

Jake side-eyes you, briefly glancing at Heeseung before responding, “I’m not…you know what? Nevermind, thanks.” He takes this as an opportunity to exit the conversation, giving Heeseung a light pat on the shoulder as he leaves.

“Didn’t think you’d be here.” Heeseung comments, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

You shrug, “Wasn’t doing anything else, figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a little. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yeah,” you respond, taking a step closer and resting your hand on his bicep, “got anything for me?”

Fuck, Heeseung knew he should’ve made another batch of brownies or some shit. He seriously hadn’t been expecting you to show up tonight, otherwise he would’ve been prepared.

He shakes his head, “Not this time, you should’ve told me you were coming; I would’ve made something.”

You groan, momentarily tilting your head back, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” his hand lands on your waist, pulling your body until your flush against him, “why won’t you just smoke with me?”

You grimace, shaking your head in response.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Just once? I know your first time wasn’t that great, but, I really think you’d like it if you tried again.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Tell you what,” Heeseung starts, clearing his throat, “smoke with me just this once, and your next few purchases are on me.”

It isn’t much of an offer considering most of the shit he gave you was either free or already extremely discounted, but your eyes light up regardless. “Really?”

Heeseung nods, “I swear.”

You think it over for a moment, the pros instantly outweigh the cons and lead you to accept Heeseung’s desperate offer. 

A few minutes later, you find yourself in a comfortable lounge chair with Heeseung in his backyard, grateful that the remaining partygoers opted to stay indoors, giving you privacy and alone time with him.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, trying your best to ignore the feeling of his dick pressing right against your ass, neatly rolled blunt in one hand as he uses the other to fish a lighter from his pocket. “You’re nervous,” he comments.

You shake your head, “I’m not.”

“You are, I feel you shaking.”

“I’m fine, just kinda cold. Go on.”

Heeseung studies you for a moment, eye contact strong and intimidating as ever as he brings the blunt to his parted lips. You watch carefully as he brings the lighter towards the tip, focusing entirely too much on the concentrated look on his face as he lights it. Slowly, he begins to rotate it as the end continues to burn, taking a few small puffs here and there.

Satisfied with his creation, Heeseung takes a long, slow drag, inhaling the smoke into his lungs before titling his head away to exhale.

“Your turn,” he says, offering you the blunt.

You hesitantly stare down at it before accepting; it was intimidating to say the least, the scent alone strong enough to make your head hurt. Heeseung watches you patiently, eyes darting between your lips and the blunt in silence.

Deciding you need a little bit of encouragement, he brings his thumb to your lips, parting them slightly as his free-hand wraps around your wrist, “You’ll be fine, trust me.” 

Under the guidance of his calloused hand, you finally bring the blunt up to your lips and briefly inhale before immediately exhaling.

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head, “How’d that feel?”

You ponder for a moment, passing the blunt back to Heeseung, “I don’t feel anything. Literally nothing.”

“I mean, yeah, you didn’t even inhale it.”

You roll your eyes, “Why are there so many steps? This is why I prefer edibles.”

“I’m just showing you that you have other options, babe.”

“Yeah, well I’m sticking to my baked goods. You can have the rest of that, I don’t want anymore.”

Heeseung’s well aware that you’re a woman of your word, and the chances of you ever smoking again were a definite zero, so trying to get you to change your mind was pointless. However, there is one thing that may just work on you.

“Mind if I try something?”

You perk up, “Try what?”

“I do all the work but you still get high.”

You raise a brow, “That’s possible?”

He nods, “All you’d have to do is take deep breaths.”

Taking a deep breath, you accept Heeseung’s offer with a sigh, resting a hand on his shoulder as you adjust yourself on his lap. “Fine.”

Here goes nothing.

He guides the blunt back to his lips, taking a long drag as he holds the smoke in his mouth. He tilts his head upward towards you, taking your chin in his hand, signaling for you to part your lips. You follow his command and part your lips open, just enough for Heeseung to close the distance and allow the smoke into your mouth, his lips barely brushing against yours in the process.

You take in a deep breath, eyes closed shut and inhale the smoke, careful not to exhale too quickly and have a repeat of your previous attempt.

“How was that?” Heeseung asks, taking note of your sudden silence.

Truthfully, it wasn’t bad. The smell is still too strong for your liking and requires much more effort than biting off a piece of dessert and calling it a day, but it wasn’t bad. You’re certain that Heeseung shotgunning it into your mouth only added to the experience.

“Not bad,” you admit, “probably because you did all the work.”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll always take care of you, remember that.”

Heeseung is having the time of his life, thoroughly convinced that he finally has some power over you. Here you were sitting on his lap in his backyard letting him blow smoke into your mouth. Sure, it may have taken a lot of convincing and begging on his end to get to this point, but none of that matters; baby steps are still movement.

As if the night couldn’t have gotten any better, you’re asking Heeseung to shotgun more smoke into your mouth over and over. He’s careful to maintain a calm and nonchalant demeanor as he does so, not wanting to come off as too eager out of fear of scaring you away. Or even worse, giving you back that power you have over him.

On the fifth time, you swipe your tongue across Heeseung’s bottom lip when he passes the smoke into your mouth, a low groan escaping from him in the process. He’s fully hard in his jeans by now, and there’s no way you can’t feel his dick pressing right into you. Despite the cold weather, your entire body feels warm all over, Heeseung only adding to the pleasure.

You should’ve taken Heeseung a bit more seriously when he said you’d still get high from this; after a few minutes, your limbs were already starting to feel lighter and weaker. A delicate, cloud-like haze fills your head; your vision blurs slightly and it takes a few minutes for you to fully relax.

Heeseung, attentive as ever, remains silent and still has he watches you; primarily due to the fact that you squirming around on his lap is only adding to the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. One wrong move, and he’d surely be cumming in his boxers.

You rest your forehead against Heeseung, pressing a firm hand against his chest when he moves to blow more smoke into your mouth. He hums, staring up at with a concerned look on his face.

You close your eyes, mumbling, “Heeseung…”

He hums again in response, still holding the smoke in his mouth.

You open your eyes briefly before closing them again, balling up the collar of his shirt in your fist as you lean down to press your lips against his. He opens his mouth on instinct, as if it were a second nature, parting his lips slightly and exhaling the smoke into your mouth once again.

Heeseung absentmindedly sets the blunt down, his hands moving to your waist to pull you closer to him until your tits are pressed right up against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the feelings, tilting his head to allow himself further into your mouth. 

You cup his face in your hands, hips moving forward as you slowly begin to grind yourself against him. “Fuck,” he moans in a low voice, “keep doing that.”

You grind down harsher this time, capturing his moan in your mouth in the process. With each movement of your hips, a shiver descends down your spine at the friction; Heeseung is painfully hard, and from what you could feel, he was definitely packing. Bigger than what you would’ve expected.

It all feels too good; you grinding against him, the state of his high, your tongue in his mouth. It’s all so overwhelmingly euphoric that Heeseung hardly realizes how close he is to literally cumming in his boxers.

His body was always overly sensitive whenever he got high, and often avoided any sort of intimacy that involved another person due to how embarrassingly quick he would finish, and tonight doesn't seem to be any different. What makes matters worse is the fact that Heeseung was already desperately attracted to you and had been dreaming of this moment since he’d first met you.

He pulls away quickly, cursing under his breath, “YN, h-hold on,” he stutters, “slow down, please.”

You don’t listen; in fact, you can barely even hear him with how caught up you were in your own head. “Hmm? Say that again?”

“S-slow – ah, fuck – slow down for a sec, baby.”

His grip on your waist tightens, and despite the urgency in his tone of wanting you to slow down, he makes no effort to still your hips move you off of him. Fuck it, it is what it is.

“Why?” You question, tilting your head, but you’re a few seconds too late.

Heeseung’s entire body shivers, hips jolting upwards as he comes on himself, making a mess of his boxers. While that alone was definitely embarrassing, Heeseung is more annoyed over the fact that you’ve regained your power over him. His priorities were definitely fucked, but he didn’t even care; he could clean himself up later, but the damage to his ego would take longer to repair.

Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, eyes widening as you process what’s just happened, “Oh, Heeseung…” you mumble into the palm of your hands.

He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he runs a hand down his face, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding.”

“It’s okay! It happens! No big deal!” You try to reassure him, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Sure it happens and maybe it isn’t a big deal, but it is for Heeseung. He’s not the type to bust a nut over someone squirming around in his lap for ten minutes, this shit was fucking insanity.

“I’m seriously not like this, I’m just overly-sensitive when I’m high. I swear, I-”

“It’s fine, Heeseung,” you interrupt, standing from his lap, “if anything, I’m flattered! Why don’t you, uh, get cleaned up and I’ll see you later?”

“YN, come on, don’t do this.” He pleads, following you and you make your way towards the sliding door. 

“I told you, it’s fine! I’m not like,” you pause, opening the door with a loud grunt, “mad or weirded out or anything.”

You slip back into the living room, Heeseung hot on your tail with every step. “Let me make it up to you!”

You sigh, “Honestly, I don’t think you have it in you to do that right now.”

“I do! Just let me, please.”

“Heeseung, please drop it. I said it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, at least let me eat you out or something!”

“Heeseung!” Your eyes widen at his lewd, shameless offer, “Lower your voice! We’re in a fucking party surrounded by people!”

He smacks his teeth, “I don’t care. Please, YN.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me, you do not owe me anything.”

A beat of silence passes, then he says, “Then do it for me. Please.”

Even though Heeseung was the one literally begging to go down for you, there is a possibility of him having some sort of power over you; or maybe you just have a soft spot for him. Either way, you end up lying in his bed twenty minutes later, skirt bunched up around your waist as Heeseung’s wet tongue circles your clit, desperate attempt at coaxing a second orgasm from you.

He hadn’t even realized he’d grown hard again just from eating you out, and would likely end up cuuming in his boxers again just from doing this.

“Fuck,” he moans into your folds, pulling away slightly to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, “been waiting so fucking long for this.”

“Yeah?” You question, your grip on Heeseung’s hair tightening.

This earns a low groan from him as he nods against your skin, “You have no idea.”

Deciding he’s spent enough time away from your cunt, his lips make their way back onto you; his tongue falls flat against you, dragging your wetness upwards towards your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud.

Your body shivers, a beam of sweat dripping down your forehead as your second orgasm approaches. You’ve been eaten out before, countless times, but never like this. It was almost as if Heeseung was doing it for his own pleasure rather than your.

He teases your entrance with his finger before sliding two of them in with ease, curling them upwards and immediately hitting the spot you needed him the most.

“H-Heeseung…hold on…”

He hums, but he’s not really listening, too occupied with kitten-licking your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you. The knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re gushing against his hands and mouth, Heeseung only takes this as a sign to continue lapping at your cunt. You have to literally grab him by the hair and drag him away from you.

He stares up at you, pupils blown wide and his chin coated in your juices, but he definitely looks happy. “What?” he asks.

You struggle to catch your breath, “You’re hard again?”

He looks down at his crotch momentarily before shrugging, “I guess.”

“You…don’t you wanna do something about that?”

His eyes flash down to your cunt for a split second, “It can wait.”

You scoff, “Well, I need a minute.”

Heeseung nods in agreement, impatiently drumming his fingers on his bed as you flop against his mattress. “Ready?” He asks once a minute has passed.

“No.”

He sighs, then sighs again, and again and again until you let out a frustrated groan. “Go get me a glass of fucking water.”

“Okay!” He shouts while standing, exiting the bedroom in a hurry. Maybe you really do treat him like a bitchboy, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

[misswynters]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝 Part One

pairing. ambessa x reader x sevika

warnings. kissing, sparring and kissing, touching, neck kisses, pet names (darling)

wc. i have no idea (i went overboard)

synopsis. You were sent on a mission to train sevika for an underground tournament, by non other than the tyrant herself, Ambessa Merdarda.

a/n. there needs to be more of these because i am in need. i keep making part twos because im indecisive also let me know if there’s any misspelling

note. it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

Sweat clung to your brow as you stepped into the training room, its atmosphere oppressive and bathed in a dim crimson glow. The walls, which were made of steel, echoed with every movement. Scuffed mats covered sections of the concrete floor, marked by years of punishment from brutal sparring matches. Ambient heat radiated from flickering red lights overhead, casting jagged shadows that seemed to ripple with every movement. It wasn’t an ideal space for training, but Zaun didn’t do luxury, and neither did Ambessa.

Ambessa’s voice rang out from the elevated platform at the far end of the room, her piercing gaze fixed on the two of you. “Again,” she ordered, her tone sharp enough to cut through the humid air. “Don’t hold back this time. You’re wasting my time if you’re not going to make her bleed.”

Resentment prickled under your skin, but you bit your tongue. Ambessa’s presence had been the only thing keeping you in this hell of an assignment. Training Sevika for an underground tournament had sounded ridiculous when the offer first came to you. Why would a battle maiden brute like her need anyone’s help. But Ambessa had insisted, claiming your expertise was “essential” to Zaun’s victory. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Sevika stood in front of you, her large frame coiled with tension. Her metal arm glinted under the lights as her breathing stayed steady. Her gaze looked betrayed with annoyance. She wasn’t thrilled about being told what to do, let alone by you. The feeling was mutual. “You ready for another bruising, princess?” Sevika taunted, cracking her knuckles.

Rolling your eyes, you dropped into a fighting stance. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your metal arm isn’t the only thing out of commission.”

Her grin was predatory. “Such big words for someone so small.”

The session resumed with a flurry of blows. Sevika lunged first, her movements quick despite her size. You ducked under her swing, your fist connecting with her side. The impact barely fazed her, but it was enough to get her attention. She retaliated with a sweeping kick, forcing you to leap back to avoid losing your footing. The clash of flesh and metal echoed in the room as the two of you exchanged blows, your mutual irritation fueling every strike.

Sevika was too strong to take head-on. So you relied on precision and agility, darting around her strikes and aiming for weak spots. But Sevika wasn’t stupid. She adapted quickly, her strikes coming faster and more calculated. Her metal fist grazed your ribs at one point, and the shock of it made you stumble.

“Getting tired already, sweetheart?” she sneered, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm.

“Hardly,” you shot back, charging at her with renewed energy.

Your next strike caught her off guard. A perfectly timed uppercut sent her stumbling backward. You didn’t stop, delivering a swift kick to her midsection that knocked her off balance. She hit the ground hard, her body slamming against the concrete with a grunt. For a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of your ragged breathing.

“Stay down,” you said, wiping your hands on your pants.

But Sevika didn’t stay down. With a growl, she lunged at you like a wild animal. Her strength caught you off guard, and before you could react, she had you pinned to the cold floor. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and you gasped as her full weight pressed against you.

Sevika’s metal hand gripped both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. Her other hand rested on your shoulder, keeping you firmly in place. You struggled, but her strength was overwhelming.

“Not so cocky now, are ya?” she panted, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. Sweat dripped from her forehead onto your cheek, and the heat of her body seeped into yours.

“Let me up,” you growled, glaring at her.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she leaned closer, her face mere inches from yours. “Now why would i do that? You look good down there.”

Your pulse quickened, though you told yourself it was from exertion. “You’re enjoying this wayyyy too much.”

“Maybe,” Sevika admitted, her voice a husky whisper. “But I think you are too.” Her chest heaved with every breath, the fabric of her tank top clinging to her damp skin. The scent of sweat and iron filled the air, mingling with something deeper, something unspoken. Her gray eyes bore into yours, challenging you, daring you to say something, to do something. But neither of you moved. The world outside the training room seemed to fade, leaving only the two of you in this heat of a moment.

“You’re stronger than I expected,” Sevika muttered, her voice softer now. “Almost makes me want to keep you around.”

“Almost?” you shot back, your voice tight. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.”

Her smirk widened. “You can try, but you wouldn’t succeed.”

Ambessa’s voice cut through the moment like a blade. “Enough!” she barked, her tone sharp and commanding. “If you two are done flirting, we have a tournament to prepare for.”

Ambessa’s voice thundered through the training room before either of you had the chance to speak. “What in the hell is going on here?” Her presence filled the room instantly, her commanding tone freezing both you and Sevika in place.

Her boots clanged against the concrete as she strode forward, her towering frame illuminated by the dim red glow. Dressed in training gear, Ambessa looked more like a war goddess than a general with her broad shoulders and powerful arms on full display. A simple black sports bra wrapped tightly around her chest as her glistened abs catch the faint light.

“Off,” she barked, her sharp gaze locking on Sevika.

Sevika, who rarely flinched at anything, hesitated for a split second before pulling back. Her expression was tight with frustration, but she obeyed, releasing your wrists and standing. The loss of her warmth was immediate as the cold floor pressed against your back.

Ambessa stepped in without missing a beat, gripping Sevika’s arm and pulling her upright effortlessly. “Do you think this is some kind of game?” Her voice was low, dangerous, as she squared off with Sevika.

Sevika yanked her arm back, her jaw tightening. “She hit me. I hit her back.”

“You pinned her like a street brawler,” Ambessa snapped, her voice cutting through the charged air. “This isn’t some tavern scuffle. You’re supposed to be training, not rolling around like a fool.”

“She’s the one who pushed me,” Sevika shot back, her chest heaving as she stepped closer. The heat in her gaze didn’t waver, and the muscles in her arms flexed with tension.

Still lying on the ground, you watched the two women square off, rooted in place by the sheer energy between them. Ambessa’s imposing frame radiated authority, her dark eyes blazing, while Sevika bristled like a cornered beast, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“Pushed you?” Ambessa’s voice dropped to a near growl. She took another step forward, her tone mocking. “What are you, a child? You’re supposed to be stronger than this.”

“Maybe if you didn’t bark orders from a balcony, you’d see how this fight actually went,” Sevika bit back, her voice dripping with venom. Her muscles tensed beneath the fabric of her tank top, the strain of holding back her frustration evident in every line of her body.

Ambessa’s laugh was sharp and humorless, cutting through the suffocating air. “Careful, Sevika. You’re one poorly thrown punch away from losing that metal arm.”

Sevika’s lips twisted into a snarl, her voice rising as she stepped into Ambessa’s space. “And you’re one more order away from learning I don’t take kindly to being treated like a damn pawn.”

Every word exchanged felt like a spark, each one igniting the fire between them further. You remained where you were, watching from the ground as the red lights painted their figures like some living, breathing battle scene.

Ambessa tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze narrowing. “You think this is about you?” she asked, her voice quiet but filled with dangerous intent. She took a step closer, the heat from her body palpable even from where you lay. “You’re nothing without me. You wouldn’t have that arm, that strength, or this opportunity. So don’t test me, Sevika.”

For a moment, Sevika didn’t respond, her jaw tight as her gaze flickered to the floor before locking onto Ambessa again. Then, like a wave breaking, the anger in her expression shifted into something more intimate replacing it.

“Nothing without you?” Sevika’s voice dropped, her tone low and measured, sending a shiver down your spine. “You think you own me because you gave me this?” She raised her metal arm, flexing it deliberately. “Don’t fool yourself. I’ve earned every inch of what I am.”

Ambessa didn’t back down, stepping even closer until their chests were nearly brushing. “Then prove it. Because right now, all I see is someone too stubborn to recognize when they’re being tested.”

The air between them shifted. Their breathing was heavy, their bodies so close you swore you could see the tension vibrating between them. Ambessa’s hand raised slightly, and for a second, you thought she might push Sevika, or worse, strike her. But her fingers caught the strap of Sevika’s tank top instead, her grip firm.

“You talk about earning it,” Ambessa said, her voice softer now, her words dripping with sharpness. “But have you earned this?”

Sevika didn’t flinch, though her chest rose and fell faster, her gray eyes locked onto Ambessa’s dark ones. “I’ve earned more than you think,” she said, her voice just as quiet, though there was a slight tremor. The aggression in Sevika’s stance softened, though her muscles remained taut, her body coiled and ready. Ambessa’s imposing presence didn’t falter, but the edge in her gaze dulled ever so slightly.

“You’re reckless,” Ambessa murmured, her fingers still resting against Sevika’s shirt.

“Tyrant bitch,” Sevika shot back, though there was no bite to her words.

They were so close now, their tension-filled standoff transforming into something you couldn’t quite name. You should’ve looked away, should’ve gotten up and interrupted, but you couldn’t. The sight of them, Ambessa’s glistening abs under the red lights and Sevika’s tank top clinging to her damp skin. It was mesmerizing.

The sparring session between Ambessa and Sevika had turned into a spectacle of raw power and dominance. The two women circled each other, muscles taut and glistening under the red light as they calculated their next moves. The tension in the room was almost unbearable, the charged atmosphere making it impossible to look away.

Sevika lunged first, her movements swift. Ambessa parried with ease, her stature and experience giving her the upper hand. The clash of their bodies reverberated through the room, their strength evenly matched, though Ambessa carried herself with an effortless grace that only came from years of battle.

Whereas, you sat on the couch in the corner with your legs crossed and your hands gripping the cushion tightly as you watched. The intensity between them was magnetic, and you felt heat creeping up your neck as you took it all in. The way Ambessa’s muscles shifted with every movement, the sheer power in her strikes. It was impossible not to admire her.

Sevika grunted as Ambessa caught her wrist mid-strike, twisting her arm behind her back in one fluid motion. “You’re too easy to predict,” Ambessa said, her voice low and laced with authority.

Sevika growled, twisting to free herself, but Ambessa didn’t let go. Instead, she pinned Sevika’s arms together, holding them in place with one hand. The strength in that single motion was enough to make your jaw drop. You could see the flex of her biceps, the veins on her forearm standing out as she kept Sevika completely immobilized.

You swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks flush. It wasn’t just the display of power that made your stomach flip, it was the way Ambessa looked doing it. She was in complete control, her eyes burning with determination.

Ambessa leaned in close, her lips brushing against Sevika’s ear. Whatever she whispered was too quiet for you to hear, but the way Sevika’s ears turned pink told you enough. Sevika was blushing. Their breathing was labored, their chests pressed against each other in a way that blurred the lines between aggression and intimacy. They were similar in height and strength that it was hard to tell who had the upper hand, though Ambessa’s control of the situation made it clear she was the dominant one.

You shifted uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to the scene in front of you. The way they moved, the tension between them. it was impossible not to feel flustered. Your eyes flicked to Ambessa’s back, the muscles there flexing as she held Sevika in place, and then to Sevika’s jaw, clenched tightly in frustration.

And then, with a sharp motion, Ambessa threw Sevika to the ground. The impact echoed through the room, but before Sevika could recover, Ambessa straddled her waist, pinning her completely. Her hands pressed into the concrete on either side of Sevika’s head, caging her in.

For a moment, they just looked at each other. Ambessa’s gaze was piercing, and Sevika’s was equally defiant, though there was a flicker of something soft beneath her frustration. The proximity between them was almost suffocating, their breaths mingling as they stared each other down.

From your spot on the couch, you felt a pang of jealousy twist in your chest. You hated to admit it, but the sight of them like this: with Ambessa in complete control and Sevika pinned beneath her. You couldn’t deny what it made you feel. You were indecisive, whether you wanted to be in Ambessa’s place or Sevika’s.

Ambessa finally broke the moment, her head turning slightly in your direction. “Darling,” she called, her voice smooth and inviting.

Your heart skipped a beat. She rarely used that tone with you, and when she did, it always made your pulse race. You stood hesitantly, your legs feeling weak as you approached them.

“C’mere,” Ambessa said again, her eyes darkening as she watched you. You obeyed without question, moving closer until you were kneeling beside the two women. Ambessa shifted her attention back to Sevika for a moment, her thumb brushing against Sevika’s jawline before she finally let go of her. Sevika sat up slightly, her breathing still heavy as she stared at Ambessa, her lips parted as though she wanted to a near whisper. "Do you want her?"

The question hit you like a shit ton of bricks. Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "What? No, I-"

Ambessa tilted her head, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Come on. there’s no need lie," she said, her voice soft but dangerous. "I've seen the way you look at her."

It’s true i-" you started, but your words caught in your throat as Ambessa leaned closer, her hand coming up to cup your chin.

"You can deny it all you want," she murmured, her thumb brushing against your lower lip. "But I already know the truth." Behind her, Sevika shifted, her eyes narrowing as she watched the interaction. Her gaze flicked between you and Ambessa, her jaw tightening as though she was trying to figure out what to make of the situation.

Ambessa's lips curved into a knowing smile as she let go of your chin, her hand moving to rest on your shoulder instead. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," she said, her tone almost teasing now. "Desire is a natural thing."

You felt your cheeks heat up, unsure of how to respond. Ambessa's gaze was unrelenting, and the weight of both her and Sevika's attention made your head spin.

"Still," Ambessa continued, her voice taking on a more serious edge, "you should know where your loyalties lie." Her words sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded slowly. With the inability to tear your eyes away from her. The room was silent for a moment, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. Sevika finally stood, brushing herself off and crossing her arms over her chest as she stared down at the two of you.

Ambessa smirked, leaning back slightly but still keeping her hand on your shoulder. "Oh, I'm counting on it," she said, her tone dripping with confidence.

As the two women exchanged another charged look, you couldn't help but feel caught in the middle of something bigger than yourself. And yet, you didn't want to be anywhere else.

Ambessa stood there, towering over both you and Sevika, her sharp gaze locked on Sevika's defiant stance. The tension between them was thick, electric, but then something shifted in Ambessa's expression. A sly smirk curved her lips, and before anyone could react, she leaned in and pressed her lips against Sevika's.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was intense, fiery, and utterly captivating. Sevika's eyes widened in surprise at first, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she matched Ambessa's energy, their mouths moving against each other with such a desire that made your heart pound. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight. The sound of their labored breaths and the faint growls of dominance filled the room. They kissed as if they were trying to conquer one another, neither willing to back down. Sevika's hand shot up, gripping the back of Ambessa's neck, her fingers curling into her short hair. While Ambessa's large hands found Sevika's waist, pulling her closer.

Your cheeks flushed as you watched, your mind racing. It was undeniably hot. You clenched your fists in your lap, trying to ignore the heat pooling in your belly as you continued to observe the exchange.

Ambessa's teeth caught Sevika's lower lip, tugging it slightly before she pulled back just enough to smirk. "Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice husky and breathless.

"Not even close," Sevika growled, surging forward to capture her lips again, this time with even more hunger.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. The two women before you were locked in a battle of dominance, their bodies pressed so tightly together that it was hard to see where one ended and the other began. The red light from the room cast their silhouettes in an almost ethereal glow, accentuating the muscles in their arms and shoulders as they held each other.

You felt a pang of longing in your chest, wishing you could be part of that. Your eyes drifted to Sevika's lips. You imagined her pressing her lips against your neck. And then your gaze moved to Ambessa's hands, the thought of them holding you like that making your stomach flip.

You didn't realize you were pouting until Ambessa pulled back slightly from Sevika, her eyes flicking toward you. She chuckled lowly, her voice thick with amusement. "What's wrong, darling?" she teased, the pet name rolling off her tongue like silk.

You quickly looked away, embarrassed that she'd caught you. "Nothing," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

"Nothing, hm?" Ambessa stepped closer, leaving Sevika standing there looking both frustrated and dazed. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against your cheek before trailing down to rest against your back. "I don't think I believe you."

Sevika, still breathing heavily, smirked as she noticed your reaction. "Looks like someone wants in on the fun," she said, her tone teasing but her eyes were dark. Your heart skipped a beat as Ambessa's hand pressed more firmly against your back, guiding you to your feet. "Join us.” she commanded softly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, letting her lead you exactly where you wanted to be. Right inbetween the two of them. Her hand stayed firm against your back, her touch grounding yet electrifying.

"You've been watching like you want something," Ambessa murmured, her lips brushing against your ear as she spoke. "Well?"

"I..." You trailed off, unsure of how to put into words the mix of desire and anticipation swirling inside you.

"Shy now?" Sevika teased, stepping closer until her chest was nearly brushing against your back. She reached out, her calloused fingers tilting your chin up so you had to look at her. "Don't be."

The proximity of both women was overwhelming, their sheer size making you feel small and delicate in comparison. Ambessa's hands slid down to your hips, pulling you flush against her chest while Sevika's fingers trailed along your jawline.

"You're trembling," Ambessa noted with a smirk, her voice a low rumble against your back. "Are we making you nervous, darling?"

"I-i’m not nervous," you managed to say, though your voice betrayed you.

Ambessa chuckled, the sound vibrating through her chest and into your body. "Good," she said. "Because we're just getting started."

Before you could respond, Ambessa leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both commanding and intoxicating. Her hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly against her as her lips moved against yours with expert precision.

You barely had time to process the kiss before Sevika's lips found the curve of your neck, her teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. The combination of their touches was almost too much to handle, and yet you craved more.

Ambessa pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked down at you. "Sevika," she said, her tone carrying a hint of command.

Sevika hummed in response, her lips still pressed against your neck.

"I think you want more," Ambessa said, a mischievous glint in her eye as she looked between you and Sevika.

Sevika smirked, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. "Then we shouldn't disappoint," she said, her voice low and full of promise.

As they both closed in on you, you couldn't help but feel excitement. Being caught between these two powerful women, their attention focused entirely on you, was a dream come true. And as their lips and hands began explored every inch of your body, you couldn’t resist.

part two?

taglist. @blckbny @themostlesbianever @galaxydreamer468 @mpenguin7 @mvistl @dollstry @abitchnamedtia @ab2ysw1fe @lizzy222y @lexi2000 @sevslut @yer-boiiii @jayden-prentiss @humbledaylily556 @desnaa

banner. @anitalenia

[whytheylosttheirminds]

happy birthday, baby (part one: birthday girl)

(boyfriend!rafe x girlfriend!reader two-shot)

summary it's your first birthday as rafe's girlfriend, and he's desperate to show you just how special you are to him...

content fluff! smut! 18+ minors do not interact!

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

“It’s too much, Rafe!”

The pile of presents in front of you is outrageous. Bows and bags and big, meticulously wrapped packages.

“Never too much for my girl,” he stands back, beaming as he watches you take in the display with your mouth agape.

“I don’t even know which one to open first,” you muse.

“Any of ‘em. Just not,” he steps forward and plucks one bag from the pile, “this one. This one’s for last.”

You eye him suspiciously as he sets the bag on the kitchen counter, out of reach. 

“What surprises do you have planned, Cameron?”

“If I told you,” he smiles, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, “then they wouldn’t be surprises. Now pick a present or we’re gonna be here all day.”

“Excuse me, I will not be rushed on my birthday,” you say defiantly.

“Not rushing you,” he drops a kiss on your shoulder, “just got a lot of shit planned for ya, I don’t want to waste any time,” he clarifies.

“There’s more?” You turn in his grasp, eyes wide.

He’d already woken you up with breakfast in bed, and an adorably off-key, groggy voiced rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’ His bedroom was full of flowers and balloons, including two big pink ones displaying your new age. After you ate the fluffiest pancakes you’d ever had in your life, he slipped a heavy diamond necklace around your neck, kissing your shoulders as he clasped it. Giving him a million thank you kisses, you told him you loved your present, and he chuckled, leading you to the kitchen to the mountain of additional presents you’re now ogling.

“So much more. I’ve got a whole day planned for you, so let’s get to it,” he said with a quick tap on your ass, making you giggle.

“Okay, okay! I want…that one,” you point to the largest package in the back of the pile, “‘cause it’s big.”

“Huh, where have I heard that before?” He pretends to think, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

You roll your eyes, shoving him back by his shoulder and scoffing, “you’re on another one today, I swear.”

“Just excited to celebrate you,” he grins, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling the biggest present out of the pile.

You sit in one of his dining chairs, opening present after present, each one delighting you more than the last. Flashy and expensive; a new bag, two pairs of shoes that have been on your wishlist forever, jewelry until you’re dripping in diamonds and precious gems. Sweet and sentimental; a printed album of all your instagram posts since the two of you got together almost a year ago, a gold ring engraved with a handwritten message, a crystal picture frame with a shot of the two of you on his boat at sunset. 

You wonder if it’s possible for your heart to actually burst from affection.

When only one present remains, you eye the counter quizzically, waiting for him to bring you the little bag he had set aside. Rafe just makes himself busy picking up the discarded ribbons and wrapping paper, a little blush on his face as he focuses on the chore.

“Rafe…” you try to get his attention.

“Yeah?” He leans down to pick up a bow that had fallen under the table, when he stands, you step in front of him, grabbing the trash from his hands and setting it to the side. 

“I want my last present please,” you smile, hands cupped in front of you expectantly.

He scratches the top of his buzzed head, taking a deep breath, “why don’t we wait? I booked you a spa appointment so you should probably get ready…”

“Rafe,” you cross your arms over your chest, “why are you being all squirmy?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t know if you’ll like it, I don’t want you to think…anything.”

You had no idea what he meant by ‘think anything,’ but this whole you not liking something he took the time to pick out for you business was just nonsense. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes to place a soft, steady kiss on his lips. 

“Well I do know. I’m gonna love it, because you got it for me, and I love you,” you ease his worry.

You had told each other you loved each other for the first time a little over a month ago, but it still feels like fireworks everytime one of you says it. Nothing in life is sweeter than the sound of his quick, reassuring “love ya” before hanging up the phone, or his whispered, emotional “I love you so much,” when he’s buried inside you late at night.

“I love you too,” he grins.

“Good,” you place one more kiss on his lips, “then I would like my last present now, please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he smirks, walking you toward the kitchen, kissing you all the way as he backs you up step by step.

By the time you reach the kitchen island, you’ve almost forgotten about the striped gift bag waiting for you there, distracted by his lips and the cute little smooches they’re making against your mouth with each step.

He reaches back for the bag without pulling away, holding it behind his back as he ducks down for one last peck before swinging it forward and presenting it to you.

“We can take it back if you don’t li-” you silence him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhh, it’s my last present of the day, let me enjoy this,” you request.

He nods solemnly, waiting until you were looking away, too distracted by the tissue paper in the bag to see the smirk growing on his lips as he thought about his actual last present for you. A rush of nerves shoot through him as he pictures the little black velvet pouch sitting in his nightstand drawer. 

Obeying your request, he bites his tongue as you pull out the rest of the tissue paper. When you finally see what’s sitting in the bag, a slow, delighted smile spreads across your face. You don’t pull the gift out, just bite your lip as you blink up at him through your lashes. His cheeks are adorably pink. 

He’s never bought you lingerie before. He’s seen you in plenty of it, though. Hell, he cleared a whole drawer for you like a month after you started dating, telling you to take as much space as you needed as long as he was the only one who got to see you in it. But the thought of him actually going into the store and asking the sales lady for exactly what he wanted to see you in, surely pulling out his black card and telling her the price tag was not an issue, made your belly tighten with lust.

“Ah I see,” you smirk, “it’s a present for me and for you.”

He nods with a lick of his lips, “you gonna try it on for me?”

You lead him to the chair you were sitting in to open presents, guiding him to sit and placing one more kiss on his cheek before excitedly padding to the bedroom to get changed. He watches you go with his tongue pressed into his cheek, readying himself, wondering how the fuck someone like him got lucky enough to be with someone like you.

Rafe had picked out the cutest little set for you. Matching floral bra and panties, sheer and constructed with hardly any fabric at all, a matching garter belt and thigh high sheer stockings. You gasp when you see the price tag, understanding now why the fabric feels so nice and the stitching is so intricate. 

You take your time pulling it on, both to be gentle with the expensive pieces and to tease the man waiting for you in the other room. The thought of him squirming in that chair wondering what the hell was taking so long makes you giggle.

“The fuck are you laughing about in there?” He calls out impatiently from the other room. “You’re killin’ me!” 

You laugh hard at that, head falling back in delight as you clip the last strap of the garter into place. You add a pair of kitten heels to tie it all together and run your fingers through your hair, one quick look in the mirror to appreciate yourself before stepping slowly from the room.

“Sorry to make you wait, baby,” you tilt your head apologetically and step towards him tauntingly. 

Rafe just smiles and looks to the ceiling, shaking his head slowly in disbelief.

“What?” You ask as you approach, hands finding his and bringing them to rest on either side of your waist.

His thumbs trace circles into your skin, “just don’t know how I got so fuckin’ lucky. Must’ve done something right in a past life.”

Your skin goes hot at his words, and the way his eyes are skimming over your body like you’re the eighth wonder of the world.

“Nah, I think you just did a lot of things right in this life,” you pull his arms so he’ll rise to his feet.

Rafe lifts his arm with his hand still holding yours, spinning you with his pointer finger like a ballerina, memorizing every inch of you as you twirl for him.

“No man could possibly be good enough to deserve you, baby,” he responds, his large, rough hands running over your bare hips, guiding you to hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. “I’m just the luckiest guy in the world.”

You kiss him, too overwhelmed by the way he’s looking at you and holding you up to say anything in response. No one has ever made you feel so special, so wanted. He’d kneel down and kiss your feet if you asked him to. But that’s not what you want right now.

“Need you, Rafe,” you mumble against his lips, legs squeezing him tighter, hands splayed on the back of his head like you’re trying to permanently seal his mouth to yours, “please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, angel,” he coos, “I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Cause it’s my birthday?” You tease.

“No. I’ll give you anything you want every day of your fucking life,” he swears, “you deserve the world.”

But you don’t want the world, you just want him.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you sigh, lowering your core over his growing hardness, playfulness gone and replaced by frenzied need.

In response, he shifts to hold you up with one arm, using the other to sweep aggressively at the counter and knock all its contents to the floor chaotically. You love him wild like this, complete disregard for the dishes and various items he’s just sent flying across the kitchen, too drunk on you to even attempt making it to the bedroom. 

He drops you onto the counter, not too hard to hurt, but just hard enough to make your tits bounce and a little “hmph!” to rise from your chest. You’re pulling him to you in seconds, nails clawing at his shoulders and the back of his head as his lips devour yours. He slots his hips between your knees, forcing your legs to fall open for him.

“Gonna make you feel so good, birthday girl,” he promises, chest hovering over you powerfully, lowering you slowly until you’re laying down on the counter, your legs dangling off the edge. 

He kisses down the column of your throat, nipping and nibbling all the way as he hooks his fingers to slip under the straps of the garter belt, pulling until the clasps break away from the top of your stockings with a snap!

You gasp, “you’re gonna break my present!”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he shakes his head, bent in half to lower his mouth down your body, sucking purple splotches into the sensitive skin of your stomach, claiming you with every mark.

When he’s satisfied with his artwork, he lifts himself up, piercing blue eyes consuming you with an adoration you’ve never experienced before. You writhe a little under his hungry gaze, and his eyes wander to the panties he gifted you, corners of his mouth perking in a grin. His hand snakes up your thigh and he sweeps his thumb over your covered slit without warning, making you gasp and arch off the cold counter.

“Looks like you already made a mess of your present anyway,” his eyes twinkle with mischief as he spreads your wetness through the fabric.

“Can’t help it,” you whine under the pressure, “you always make me so fucking wet.”

He’s desperate to taste you, lowering to his knees and dragging your panties down with him. Gripping your hips, he pulls you to the edge of the counter, closer to his mouth. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the sting outweighed by the pleasure. 

You arch toward him, desperate to feel his mouth on you, but his fingers find you first. He spreads you, groaning a strained ‘fuckkkk’ at the sight. He gathers your slick onto his fingers so slowly, so deliberately, it’s driving you insane. 

Finally, finally, he lowers his mouth and licks, ever so gently, up your center. You’re on fire, the cold marble counter below you doing little to cool your spiked body temperature. 

Between deliberate licks he whispers praises, his tongue and voice taking turns worshiping you.

“Do you know I belong to you?” He confesses, his other hand gripping the edge of the counter so hard it almost cracks. “Do you understand that you fucking own me?”

“You talk so pretty, baby,” you moan, losing your grasp on language as he sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through your body, “love that mouth.”

“It’s yours,” he promises, finally lapping at your clit with a pointed tongue, “it’s all yours, everything I’ve got.”

“Just want you!” you cry out when he pulls the sensitive bud into his mouth and sucks hard.

“You have me, ‘m not going anywhere,” he says after releasing your clit with a pop. His middle finger, already soaked from you, dips into your entrance slowly. “You’re my everything, forever.”

Rafe continues to wrap you in soliloquies of praise as his other hand kneads the skin of your stomach reverently, like a potter molding his clay.

It’s these promises that make your head spin, drowning in the tapestry he weaves with his words until all you can think, all you know, is that you love him. When a second finger enters you and his mouth finds the spot he knows so well, everything in the world fades. The only thing that means anything is this man and the way he makes you feel.

His fingers twist and twirl inside you while his mouth works your clit. You’re beside yourself, feeling your release creep closer and closer with each flick of his tongue. You grab the edge of the counter top for purchase, but it’s not enough. Your hands paw at his head, wishing there was something more to ground you. 

You love his buzzcut, you had an appointment in your shared calendar each month for him to dutifully sit on a stool in the bathroom while you redid it with the electric clippers, but in this moment you wish for the first time that he’d grow it out. You tuck the thought away for later.

He loves the way you’re clawing at his scalp, and clenching around his fingers, knowing you’re close like he knows everything about you. He grabs one of your hands, offering his to you so you can squeeze as hard as you need to, loving the pain as he pushes you to the edge.

You cry out his name when you come, nearly breaking the bones in his fingers. He doesn’t stop until the very last wave of ecstasy rolls through you, his body hovering over yours as he soothes you through the cool down.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers into your collarbone, following the vulnerable words with a shaky kiss.

“I think I have some idea,” your palm glides over his scalp, where you were just leaving scratches, inspecting to make sure you hadn’t done too much damage. “Because of how much you mean to me.”

He just shakes his head, his buzzed hair tickling your chin.

You both rise from the counter, Rafe straightening your lingerie set and taking in his gift to you one more time. He stands between your legs, fists on the counter as he leans forward on flexed arms.

“How am I supposed to top this?” You wonder aloud, hands smoothing over his shoulders and your head tilting in that adorable way he’s obsessed with.

“What do you mean?” He puzzles.

“When your birthday comes around,” you explain, “you’ve set the bar so high.”

Rafe smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes. His gaze wanders from you as he pulls back slightly.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he shakes his head.

“Are you joking? And miss the chance to celebrate you?” 

“We- I don’t really do birthdays,” he says, and before you can pry any further he adds, “plus yours isn’t even close to over yet.”

Rafe lifts you effortlessly from the counter, making you yelp in surprise. You rest your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the bedroom, thinking obsessively about the way he accidentally said ‘we.’

Your heart breaks picturing younger Rafe, no birthday candles to blow out on his big day, no crowd of friends and family singing to him, no one to make him understand how special and worth celebrating he is. 

No, that just wouldn’t do. You start planning the second he falls asleep that night, determined to make his next birthday the best he’s ever had.

-----------------ꪆৎ‎---------------------

part 2: birthday boy coming soon!

for more boyfriend!rafe see my masterlist ♡

remember! writers live off replies and reblogs, don’t forget to feed your faves 😘

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! #2 — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi x mom!reader, toji x reader, angst, family issues/trauma, absent father, implications of suicidal thoughts, talks of depression, toji is an assassin/in a gang, implications of murder, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It was a chilly Saturday morning. The birds chirped as snow fell from the sky, laying a thick blanket across the trees and ground. Megumi was still asleep while you cooked breakfast for him like you always did. His favorite being eggs, hash browns and bacon. Two weeks ago you could’ve sworn your relationship with your son was ruined, came crashing down when he found out about his father. Toji Fushiguro. Though, it only seems like the situation only brought you closer than ever. He kept asking you about him, what he was really like, how he talked, what he used to wear, did he play any sports. He asked everything. And you told him everything.

You didn’t forget one detail about Toji. From the fifteen years that he’s been gone, you still remember every detail on his face like it was just yesterday. You remember the exact clothes he was wearing the night he left and you remember the look in his eyes when he walked out the door while you pleaded for him not to go. Fifteen years and it still breaks your heart to remember. Sometimes you wished you forgotten about him. Every since then you haven’t been with anyone else. You’ve tried and failed. Went on dates, went out to clubs and bars, whatever it was, but no one was him. No one was your Toji.

Some of your high school friends live happy lives, married, nice house and car with a big family and of course the family pet. But you never got your fairytale ending. You didn’t get the easy way like everyone else. It was just you and your son the entire time and whatever hardships you endured, it was for him. After Toji left you fell into a depression. You never left the house unless it was to get groceries or other essentials, but otherwise you were cooped up. It was just you and your son. Crying yourself to sleep every night seemed like the only option you had at that time. Wasting hours trying to call Toji only for it to go straight to voicemail. You prayed he come back for you two. But he didn’t. Years and years went by and you lost hope. You believed he was dead and maybe he was.

You loved Megumi so much. Everything you did was for him, every battle fought. He was the reason you kept going. He couldn’t grow up without a mother and a father. He doesn’t know that he’s saved your life.

“Mom?” You hear your sons groggy voice as he walks into the kitchen. You glance over your shoulder and laugh at the way he stands there, his hair messy and one of his eyes barely open.

“Morning, Megs. I’m just making you breakfast.” You smile. He hums in response, turning back around and dragging his feet into the bathroom. Even down to the mannerisms he acts exactly like him. You shake your head with a laugh, turning the stove off and grabbing his plate to toss the scrambled eggs on top. “Megs, your food is on the table when you’re done!” You shout. You run over to the fridge, grabbing the orange juice and pouring him a glass when the doorbell rings. “Hold on!”

Putting the juice away, you walk over to the door with the glass in hand. “Who is it?” You ask.

“It’s me.” A voice speaks. It almost sounds recognizable, but not. Your brows furrow while undoing the locks and when you open the door, the frigid air cuts through the warmth of your house and surrounds you.

“You must have the wrong—” As you look up, your eyes widen and the glass drops from your hair, shattering against the wooden floor. Your mouth opens to say something but not a word comes out. It was like you were stuck, frozen. Tears filled your eyes as you took in the man who was standing in front of you. “Toji…?” You utter, bringing a shaky hand up to your mouth.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He grew slightly taller, his hair shorter and you can see the slight wrinkles in his face. He was a lot more muscular too, but nonetheless he still looked like him.

“Oh my god!” You jump into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Toji!” You sobbed. Being in his embrace felt so natural despite how long it’s been. He hugged you back, clenching his eyes shut as he breathed in your scent.

“Mom?! What was that?!” Megumi came rushing out the bathroom running towards where he heard the glass break. Instead, he halted in his steps when he saw the familiar face he only recently learned from photos. “Dad?”

Toji opened his eyes, his expression dropping when he saw Megumi standing there in front of him. You removed yourself from his arms, turning to see your son standing there with tears in his eyes. “Megs, it’s your dad.” You smiled, wiping your tears.

And Toji couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was like he was looking at a younger version of himself. But he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He knows it’s been fifteen years, but he was still expecting to see his two year old son walking towards him. Toji stepped into the house, slowly walking towards Megumi, hesitating to say or do anything until Megumi jumped into arms. “Dad!” He cried.

Toji clung to his son, hot tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He muttered against his hair. “Please forgive me.” He breathed. You stood there with pursed lips watching the two of them reunited, but hearing Toji’s apologies broke your heart. “I never wanted to leave you. You understand me?” Toji pulled Megumi away so that he was looking at him. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Ive missed you too.” Megumi nodded his head wiping his tears. “Mom told me. She told me everything. I don’t blame you, dad.” He sniffled, shaking his head. Toji looked towards you his eyes softening. It’s like you could see everything within him. All the regret, the sadness, the anger he’s been holding within him for all this time.

He stepped towards you, cupping your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. “You still look so beautiful.” He smiled. “I never once stopped thinking about you.” He said, holding back tears. “You and Megs were always with me. I’m sorry for leaving you, baby.” He hugged you.

It was hard not to cry. You couldn’t hold in your emotions. Not anymore. Everything that you’ve been holding back was finally letting out. You missed him. You missed seeing him with Megumi. You missed his voice, his scent, his everything. “It was so hard, Toji.” You cried. “I needed you. We needed you.”

“I know, I know.” He kissed the top of your head, gently rubbing your back. “Be angry with me, do whatever you want to me. I’m just happy to have you both back.”

You could never hate him. That was never a thought in your head. You could never hate the man you love. All you could do was understand him and his pain. He was hurting just as much as you. He left to protect you and your son. “I thought you were dead.” Your voice broke through your sobs. “I thought…”

“Shhh, shhh, I’m here now,” he whispered. “I’m right here.” He kissed you again. “Come here, little man.” Toji opened his arm, allowing Megumi to hug him.

Toji thought he’d never live to see this day. He began losing hope, drowning in his fears and bad choices. When he left, he remembered your cries, carrying that hurt in his heart for years. He only dug himself into a deeper hole trying to get out of it. Trying to protect you and Megs, he did unspeakable things, shit that left him traumatized. The amount of blood on his hands was staggering. But it was all just to have his family back.

That life was well behind him now. It’s been behind him for months. All this he’s been looking for you, jumping through hoops to even get a glimpse of you and Megumi. He wouldn’t have blamed you if you moved on, if you found someone else and replaced him, deciding to leave this hellish place. But you stayed. Despite everything, you stayed.

“You’ve gotten so damn big.” Toji eyes scanned over Megumi. “About as tall as me.” He laughed.

“Yeah, well, I do look exactly like you.” He shrugged, smiling. “I’ve been hearing it my whole life. It’s finally nice to see the original.”

“The original, huh? I ain’t that damn old,” he scoffed.

Seeing them already get along and bicker with each other like it came naturally gave you a warm feeling in your chest. You’ve never seen Megumi’s eyes so full of life, like he found his other half. And in a sense, he did. You did as well. All of you did.

“We have a lot of catching up to do.” Toji ruffled Megumi’s hair. “A lot.”

“I know. But can you promise me one thing?” Megumi asked.

“Of course.” Toji was quick to answer.

“Please, don’t leave me again. I don’t care what it is. Promise me you’ll never leave me, dad.” Megumi nervously began biting the skin off of his bottom lip.

Toji stared at his son. “I promise.”

a/n: a lot of you wanted a part 2 so I made one. I hope it lived up to the expectations tbh cause I wasn’t really sure what y’all wanted to me to write

[theonottsbxtch]

FOR YOU, ALWAYS | CL16

an: this was a request! i loved wiritng it and now i love the idea of historical romance prince!charles, thank you for requesting it 💞 also i listened to experience by ludovico einaudi the entire time i wrote this

summary: charles has always hated his life, he thinks, he doesn’t know really. but then he meets someone, she challenges him, she makes him try and all of a sudden he knows what he wants.

wc: 12k

The grand dining hall of the Château de Monte Carlo was bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through its ornate windows. Prince Charles of Monaco sat at the long mahogany table, his jaw tight as his parents, the Sovereign Prince and Princess, laid out their expectations with the weight of unshakable certainty.

"You must understand, Charles," his mother said, her voice poised yet firm, "a union with Princess Evelyn of England is not merely desirable—it is necessary. The alliance could strengthen our position in ways you cannot yet fully grasp."

His father leaned forward, his imposing figure casting a shadow over the table. "This is not a matter of choice. You are the crown prince. Your duty outweighs any personal hesitation."

Charles’s fingers tightened around the stem of his untouched glass. “And what of my life? Am I to simply be a pawn in your political games?” His voice was calm, but a sharp edge lay beneath the surface.

His mother’s gaze softened slightly, though not enough to dissuade her resolve. “You are the oldest, my son. The weight of the crown has always been yours to bear. This... is part of that burden.”

He didn’t argue further, though every fibre of his being resisted. Instead, he rose, offering a clipped bow. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Moments later, Charles pushed open the heavy doors to his private chambers, stepping into the quiet sanctuary of his room. His temples throbbed with the remnants of the conversation, and he felt the weight of his parents’ expectations settling heavier than the crown he would one day wear.

Inside, the faint rustle of fabric caught his attention. The servant girl—her name unknown to him, as it was meant to be—was smoothing the fresh sheets over his bed. She froze upon seeing him, her hands faltering mid-motion.

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, dipping into a small, practised curtsey. “I didn’t realise you were returning so soon. Shall I leave and return later?”

He waved a hand absently, stepping toward the settee by the window. “No. Stay. Finish your work.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to his face, then back to the task at hand. He sank into the settee, his head tilting back against the carved wood as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Do you ever wonder,” he began, his voice soft yet tinged with frustration, “why some of us are given so much freedom, yet chained in ways that others cannot see?”

She paused, her hands gripping the edges of the linen she had just tucked in, unsure if the question was meant for her.

When she did not answer, he looked at her—truly looked at her—for the first time in a long while. Her expression was guarded, her posture poised, as though expecting reproach. “You can speak freely,” he said, a rare hint of gentleness colouring his tone.

Her lips parted slightly, then closed again before she carefully responded, “I think, Your Highness, that even those with freedom often long for something else.”

He smiled faintly, though there was no humour in it. “Something else,” he echoed, the words hanging between them like a challenge to a fate he could not escape.

She quickly turned her attention back to the task at hand, smoothing the sheets in swift, precise movements, as if afraid that lingering would invite trouble. Charles, however, was not done with the conversation.

“And what would you long for?” he asked, his voice quieter now but laced with curiosity. “If you could have… anything?”

Her hands stilled, though she didn’t lift her gaze. “It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. People like me don’t waste time with such thoughts.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The firmness in his tone made her look up briefly, her eyes meeting his for the first time. They were dark, unyielding, yet not unkind. She hesitated, as though weighing the consequences of speaking too openly.

Finally, she murmured, “I suppose… I’d long for choice. To decide my own path, no matter how humble.”

Charles leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regarded her with an intensity that made her shift slightly under his gaze. “Choice,” he repeated, almost to himself. “The one thing I’ve never had.”

She blinked at his words, her brow furrowing in confusion. He noticed the look and gave a soft, bitter laugh.

“You think I have everything, don’t you?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the opulence surrounding them. “All this, and yet I’m to marry a woman I’ve never met. Smile on command. Produce heirs like some stud horse for the dynasty.”

“Your Highness—”

“Spare me,” he interrupted, raising a hand. “I’m aware I sound insufferable. Poor me, the prince in his gilded cage.”

The corners of her mouth twitched, the faintest shadow of a smile threatening to appear, though she suppressed it quickly. “I wouldn’t dare say so, Your Highness.”

“And yet you’re thinking it,” he said, leaning back against the settee, a faint smirk tugging at his lips now. “Go on. You’ve already said more than most would dare. Speak freely.”

She hesitated, then, emboldened by his unusual mood, offered carefully, “I think… it’s easier to envy a cage when it’s lined with silk.”

Charles let out a bark of laughter, surprising them both. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate, replaced by something lighter.

“Touché,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps I deserve that.”

She resumed her work in silence, and he watched her, his mind turning over her words. There was a simplicity in her presence, a quiet sense of purpose that felt like a reprieve from the endless demands of court life.

As she moved to leave, her task completed, she paused by the door. “Your Highness,” she said, her voice tentative.

He glanced up, his expression expectant.

“Sometimes… cages are only as strong as we believe them to be.”

Before he could respond, she slipped out, leaving him alone with his thoughts—and the echo of her words, which refused to leave him in peace.

The words haunted Charles for days. Cages are only as strong as we believe them to be. They played on a loop in his mind, following him from morning meetings with ministers to the hollow dinners with his parents, where talk of his engagement to Princess Evelyn consumed every conversation.

By the third day, he relented. Not to the sentiment behind her words, but to the reality of his life. Duty, it seemed, would always triumph over desire. He formally agreed to the arrangement in a cold meeting with his father, his voice devoid of emotion as he signed the papers that would announce his betrothal to the world.

That evening, restless and seeking solace, he ventured into the royal gardens. The roses were in full bloom, their scent heavy in the warm air, yet they brought him no comfort. The paths, so meticulously maintained, felt as constricting as the marble walls of the palace.

The crisp evening air offered a solace the grand halls could not. He strolled along the manicured paths, his mind still heavy with the decision he had made, when movement near the servant’s entrance caught his eye.

It was her.

She was dressed simply, carrying a basket as she slipped through the narrow door at the edge of the palace walls. For a moment, he simply watched her, a sudden curiosity flaring to life. Then, before reason could temper him, he followed.

She moved with purpose, her steps quick as she crossed the gravel path leading to the servants’ gate. Charles kept his distance, careful to stay within the shadows. The sound of the gate creaking open carried through the still night, and he quickened his pace.

“Wait,” he called softly as the gate began to swing shut behind her.

She spun, startled, her hand flying to her chest when she saw him. “Your Highness!” she whispered, her tone panicked. She glanced around quickly, as though expecting someone to appear from the darkness. “What are you doing out here?”

“I saw you,” he said simply, his voice low, “and I followed.”

Her expression shifted from shock to alarm. “You shouldn’t have. If anyone sees you out here with me—”

“They won’t,” he said firmly, stepping closer.

“But if they do…” Her voice dropped further, almost a plea. “I’ll be dismissed—worse. Do you know what they’d do to me for leaving the palace grounds with the prince?”

He stared at her, and for the first time in days, he felt a flicker of something other than despair. “Please,” he said, the word escaping him softly but with undeniable weight.

Her eyes widened at his uncharacteristic vulnerability. She shook her head, taking a step back. “No. I can’t. I won’t.”

“I’m not ordering you,” he said quickly. “I’m asking.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her mind clearly racing. Then, with a frustrated sigh, she pulled the cloak from her shoulders and thrust it toward him.

“Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but her movements careful as she draped it around him. “If anyone asks, you’re my cousin visiting from the countryside. Keep your head down and your mouth shut.”

Charles nodded, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Understood.”

She turned and began walking quickly down the narrow dirt path beyond the gate. He followed, cloaked in her simple, worn garment, the scent of lavender lingering faintly in the fabric.

They walked in silence for what felt like an eternity before the lights of a small village came into view. She turned onto a side lane, leading him to a tiny house at the edge of town, its thatched roof weathered but charming.

“This is it,” she said, her voice clipped as she gestured to the modest dwelling.

He stared at the house, a stark contrast to the palace he called home. “You live here?”

“Yes,” she said, clearly defensive. “It’s small, but it’s mine. No one tells me what to do when I’m here.”

He didn’t respond, too busy taking in the details: the flower boxes beneath the windows, the faint glow of a single candle in the window.

“Now you’ve seen it,” she said, her tone impatient. “You should go back before someone notices you’re missing.”

But Charles shook his head. “No,” he said softly, his eyes still fixed on the little house. “Not yet.”

Her brow furrowed as she crossed her arms. “You shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

“Perhaps not,” he admitted, finally looking at her. “But now that I’m here… I can’t imagine wanting to leave.”

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. The quiet stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Finally, she sighed again, softer this time.

“Fine,” she said, stepping toward the door. “But if anyone asks, I don’t know why you’re here, and I definitely didn’t bring you.”

She pushed the door open, stepping inside with a cautious glance behind her. Charles followed, ducking slightly to avoid the low wooden beam over the doorway. Before she could say a word, a voice called from inside.

“Back already? I thought you—”

The voice cut off as a man, younger than Charles but older than the servant girl, appeared from the far corner of the small room. He froze, his sharp blue eyes flicking between her and the prince. “What in God’s name…”

“Damn it!” she hissed, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought you were working the late shift at the docks tonight!”

“I was,” her brother said, stepping forward and squaring his shoulders. His rough shirt and patched trousers bore the telltale marks of dock work—salt stains and grime clung to the fabric. “But the shipment was cancelled. Now you tell me why the bloody prince of Monaco is in our house. Did you kidnap him?”

“Kidnap him?” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Don’t be ridiculous. He followed me!”

Charles, for his part, seemed utterly unconcerned by the commotion. His gaze wandered over the small room with childlike fascination, taking in the chipped table, the cracked ceramic plates stacked neatly in the corner, and the patchwork curtain separating the single sleeping area. He paused to admire a string of dried herbs hanging near the hearth, as though he’d never seen anything so fascinating.

“Your Highness,” the brother said, stepping in front of him with an awkward, hesitant bow. “I mean no disrespect, but do you… do you need me to call someone? Or are you in danger?” He looked over his shoulder at his sister. “Are we in danger?”

“No one is in danger,” Charles replied, his voice calm. He turned to her brother with a polite nod. “Thank you for your concern. I’m here of my own accord.”

The girl pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. Meanwhile, Charles’ eyes landed on a wooden crate near the wall, and before either sibling could stop him, he lowered himself onto it. The crate creaked but held, and he leaned back with a sigh, a serene smile spreading across his face.

The girl spun on him, her exasperation bubbling over. “What are you smiling about?”

He looked up at her, his expression earnest, almost boyish. “It’s beautiful.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Here,” he said, gesturing around the room. “It’s so cosy. Everything has its place. It’s warm, lived-in… peaceful.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical. “You call this beautiful? Your palace is five hundred times the size, and you think this is—”

“I know what my palace is,” Charles interrupted, though his tone held no irritation. “Cold. Grand. Silent. This… this feels alive.”

She crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or scold him. “It’s a shack,” she said finally, her voice softer but still tinged with disbelief.

“Maybe,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “But it’s your shack. And it’s more honest than anything I’ve ever known.”

Her brother exchanged a glance with her, his expression suggesting that he thought the prince might have lost his mind. She only shook her head, sighing heavily as she walked to the table and placed her basket down.

“This is a mistake,” she muttered to herself.

“Perhaps,” Charles said, still smiling, “but it’s the best mistake I’ve made in a long time.”

She busied herself unpacking the basket, placing a few withered carrots, a handful of potatoes, and some crusty bread onto the table. Her brother leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still watching Charles with wary eyes.

“If you’re staying, Your Highness,” she said, her tone clipped as she focused on the food, “I hope you don’t mind scraps.” She hesitated, then glanced at him. “And you can’t tell anyone at the palace that I take the extras. They’d—”

“Dismiss you,” Charles finished, his voice soft. “I won’t tell. You have my word.”

She gave a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly, and began peeling the potatoes. Her hands moved deftly, her brother stepping in to fetch water from the small barrel near the door. Charles sat quietly on his makeshift chair, watching the two of them work in a rhythm.

“Do you need help?” he asked after a moment.

Her brother let out a short laugh, but she only shook her head without looking up. “No, Your Highness, but thank you for the offer. I imagine peeling potatoes is beneath you.”

“Not everything is beneath me,” he replied, and while his voice was carrying a hint of dry humour, there was some seriousness to it.

She didn’t respond, but a faint smile tugged at her lips as she chopped the vegetables and tossed them into a battered pot over the small fire. Soon, the room filled with the simple, comforting aroma of soup.

When the meal was ready, she placed three mismatched bowls on the table and ladled out the steaming broth. She set one in front of Charles without ceremony, then handed one to her brother before sitting down herself.

Charles took a tentative sip, and his eyes widened slightly. “This is excellent.”

Her brother snorted. “It’s boiled scraps, mate. You must really have it rough if you think this is fine dining.”

“Max,” she warned, shooting her brother a glare.

Charles chuckled, dipping a chunk of the crusty bread into the soup. “Maybe it’s not fine dining,” he admitted, “but it tastes real. Honest.”

Her brother rolled his eyes but said nothing more, focusing on his meal. The three of them ate in relative silence, the tension in the room easing slightly as the warmth of the food spread through them.

When the bowls were empty, she cleared the table, stacking the dishes neatly on a small shelf. Charles leaned back, his contented smile returning as he watched her move about the room.

“You should go,” she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet. She didn’t turn to face him.

His smile faltered. “I don’t want to.”

Her hands paused for a moment before she resumed tidying the table. “You’ve seen what you wanted to see. This is my life. And you… you have your own life waiting for you back there.”

Charles stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “I suppose you’re right,” he said softly.

She walked toward the door, not meeting his eyes as she grabbed her cloak and gestured for him to follow. Her brother gave Charles a long, unreadable look as he rose to leave, but he said nothing, only shaking his head as the prince ducked back out into the cool night air.

They walked in silence down the dirt path, the lights of the palace glowing faintly in the distance. When they reached the servants’ gate, she stopped and turned to him, keeping her eyes on the ground.

“This is where we part ways,” she said firmly.

He took a step closer, and when she looked up, she saw something in his expression—gratitude, yes, but something deeper, too. Without a word, he reached for her hand, his touch gentle. He held it for a moment, his thumb brushing lightly over her calloused fingers.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “For the soup. For everything.”

Before she could respond, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was brief, but it sent a wave of warmth up her arm, leaving her stunned.

He stepped back, releasing her hand, and gave her one last look before slipping through the gate and disappearing into the shadows.

She stood there for a long time, staring at the empty path, her heart racing for reasons she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—name.

The next few days at the palace dragged on in a monotonous blur for Charles. His mornings were filled with tiresome meetings about the engagement, his afternoons with rigid etiquette lessons to prepare for public appearances with Princess Evelyn. Every second felt like a tightening noose around his neck.

Finally, the day came for him to meet her. Princess Evelyn of England arrived with her entourage in an ornate carriage, her entrance every bit as grand as expected. She was perfectly polite, perfectly poised—and, to Charles, perfectly insipid.

They sat across from each other in one of the palace’s many drawing rooms, chaperoned by a small battalion of attendants and his ever-watchful parents. She spoke at length about her family lineage, her charity work, and her plans to modernise court life, but her words washed over him like a stream of lukewarm water.

When it was his turn to speak, he managed only the barest pleasantries. He was certain she noticed his lack of enthusiasm, but if it bothered her, she gave no indication.

By the end of the meeting, he felt more drained than he had in years. As she curtsied and left the room, he caught his mother’s pointed glare, but he ignored it.

Before she could say anything to him, he glanced at the ornate clock on his wall. It was nearly the same time as the day she would be fluffing the pillows on his settee. A peculiar sense of anticipation stirred in his chest.

Without a second thought, he made his way to his bedroom. As he opened the door, his eyes immediately fell on her.

She was there, as if summoned by some unspoken wish. She was standing by the settee, her back to him as she carefully fluffed the pillows. Her movements were deliberate, methodical, and entirely unlike the flurry of maids bustling about elsewhere in the palace.

A slow smile spread across his face.

“Perfect timing,” he said loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

She turned, clutching the pillow to her chest. “Your Highness!” she said, startled. “I— I can come back later if—”

“Don’t bother,” he interrupted dramatically, throwing himself onto the bed with a theatrical sigh.

She froze, unsure whether to be amused or annoyed, as he sprawled across the silk covers, one arm flung over his face.

“Let me tell you about the most dreadful afternoon of my life,” he groaned.

Her brow furrowed as she set the pillow back in place. “The dreadful afternoon where you met the woman you’re going to marry?”

“Precisely,” he said, sitting up slightly to gesture at her. “You understand my plight already.”

“I understand you’re being ridiculous,” she replied, smoothing the cushions on the settee.

“Ridiculous?!” he exclaimed, placing a hand over his heart. “Do you know what she said when I asked her about her favourite pastime?”

“I don’t,” she said flatly, clearly trying to stay focused on her task.

“She said,” he continued, his voice dripping with mock enthusiasm, “Oh, I do adore embroidery. There’s something so meditative about it.”

She stared at him. “That… doesn’t sound terrible.”

He sat up fully now, gesturing emphatically. “Doesn’t sound terrible? It’s horrific! What am I to do with someone who finds stitching flowers onto fabric the height of excitement?”

“You could try embroidery yourself,” she suggested dryly, unable to resist a small smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Very funny. No, what I need is someone who… who challenges me. Someone with fire.”

She arched an eyebrow but said nothing, turning back to the pillows.

“Instead,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, “I’m shackled to a walking lesson in decorum.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the soft rustle of fabric as she adjusted the settee. Finally, she turned to face him fully, her expression unreadable.

“Maybe,” she said carefully, “you should spend less time thinking about what you don’t like about her and more time figuring out what you’re looking for.”

Charles opened one eye to glance at her. “And if what I’m looking for isn’t an option?”

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. Then, she shook her head and turned back to her work.

“Then you make do,” she said simply.

He watched her for a long moment, his chest tightening inexplicably.

“Is that what you do?” he asked softly.

She paused but didn’t turn around. “Every day, Your Highness.”

Without another word, she grabbed her items and walked out, softly closing the door behind her.

Charles had barely settled back on the bed, still pondering her cryptic answer, when the door to his chambers burst open.

His younger brother, Arthur, strode in, his golden hair slightly dishevelled and a boyish grin plastered across his face. “Charles! I just saw her—the princess of England. She’s… stunning. Gorgeous. A masterpiece, really. You lucky bastard.”

Charles groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Arthur, must you always barge in uninvited?”

Arthur ignored him, plopping himself unceremoniously into one of the velvet chairs near the fireplace. “I mean it. If I were you, I’d have proposed on the spot. Did you see her eyes? Like polished emeralds.”

“She’s… fine,” Charles muttered, his tone flat.

“Fine?” Arthur’s voice rose in mock indignation. “Brother, I’d trade places with you in an instant.” He leaned forward, his grin widening. “What is it? Not enough excitement for you? Too… proper?”

Charles sat up, his expression exasperated. “If you find her so attractive, Arthur, marry her yourself.”

Arthur laughed, clearly amused by the suggestion. “Oh, if only it worked that way. But alas, you are the crown prince. The heir. The one who gets the girl and the throne, while I’m left to look charming at parties.”

Charles shook his head, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t help but wonder how different his life might be if the roles were reversed. Could Arthur really be happy living a life of obligation, of gilded cages and loveless arrangements?

His thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the servant girl. Her small house, her laughter with her brother over bowls of soup, the way she moved through life with an independence he’d never known.

“What would it be like,” he murmured, almost to himself, “to marry someone who isn’t royalty? Someone who isn’t bound by these ridiculous rules?”

Arthur blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. Then he laughed, loud and incredulous. “Are you out of your mind?”

Charles turned his head sharply, fixing his brother with a challenging look. “I’m serious. What would it be like to marry a commoner? To live a life free of all this… pomp and pretence?”

Arthur’s laughter faded, replaced by a look of disbelief. “You are mad. Do you have any idea what that would mean? The scandal? The uproar? Father would have a fit. Mother would faint on the spot. And the people? They’d riot.”

“Would they?” Charles asked, his tone calm but insistent. “Or would they understand? Would they respect a prince who chose love over duty?”

Arthur shook his head, a faint sneer creeping into his expression. “You don’t know what you’re saying. A prince doesn’t marry a milkmaid or a seamstress. It’s not a fairytale, Charles. We’re not… like them.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp.

“Not like them,” Charles repeated softly, his voice carrying a hint of disdain. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Arthur hesitated, then shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. “It means we have a responsibility. A legacy to uphold. Marrying into royalty isn’t just tradition—it’s survival. You think Father and Mother arranged your engagement for fun?”

Charles didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard, his mind churning. Arthur’s words grated against something deep within him, something that longed to push back against the boundaries of their carefully constructed world.

“Maybe,” he said finally, his voice low, “the legacy isn’t worth the cost.”

Arthur stared at him, his disbelief giving way to concern. “Charles… you’ve been spending too much time alone. Or worse—reading poetry again. Get your head out of the clouds, brother. This is your life. Learn to accept it.”

With that, Arthur rose, clapping Charles on the shoulder before striding toward the door. “And if you won’t,” he added with a grin, “I’ll gladly keep the princess company. You’re a fool not to appreciate her.”

The door closed behind him, leaving Charles alone in the echoing silence of his chambers.

But his mind wasn’t silent.

It churned, restless and defiant, filled with images of a life he might never know.

The chill of the autumn night bit at Charles’s skin as he hurried along the winding path toward the small house. A week had passed, and though he told himself repeatedly that it was improper—foolish, even—he couldn’t shake the gnawing thought of her.

He hadn’t seen her since their last conversation in his chambers. Every day without her had stretched longer than the last. No wry comments while she smoothed the wrinkles from his sheets, no gentle jabs at his dramatics.

The house appeared before him, small and humble against the starlit sky. Light peeked through the cracks in the shutters.

He hesitated, his heart pounding. Then, before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.

The door opened a crack, her face appearing in the dim light. The moment she recognised him, her eyes widened in alarm, and she yanked him inside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Your Highness!” she whispered fiercely, pressing her back against the door as though to block the outside world. “Are you out of your mind? I’ll be hung if they find you at my door!”

He tried to smile, though he knew she was right. “I haven’t seen you all week.”

Her expression turned exasperated. “That’s not a valid reason to sneak out of the palace, Prince Charles.”

“Isn’t it?” he countered lightly, though the heat rising in his cheeks betrayed the truth of how much he’d missed her.

Her sigh was heavy with frustration, but something softened in her gaze. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said again, though her voice lacked its earlier sharpness. She moved away from the door, adjusting the shawl around her shoulders.

It was then that he noticed the redness around her nose, the slight rasp in her voice.

“You’ve been ill,” he said, stepping closer.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, waving him off as she moved toward the small kitchen space. “A cold. Happens every year when the weather turns. I’ll survive.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, glancing around the room.

“Life doesn’t wait for the sniffles,” she said with a faint smirk, though her movements were slower than usual as she reached for a bowl.

“Then let me help,” he said, surprising both of them.

She turned, raising an eyebrow. “You? Help? What do you know about cooking?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he admitted, grinning. “But I’m an excellent student.”

She stared at him for a moment, as though deciding whether to humour him. Finally, she handed him a knife and motioned toward a small pile of vegetables. “Fine. Peel those. Try not to cut yourself.”

He took the knife gingerly, studying the carrot as if it were a puzzle. She chuckled softly, the sound warming the small space, and stepped beside him to show him the proper angle for peeling.

The next hour passed in a flurry of quiet laughter and careful instructions. He fumbled with the knife, his first attempts earning teasing remarks from her, but he improved quickly under her guidance. Together, they chopped, stirred, and seasoned until the small pot on the stove began to bubble with a fragrant stew.

As they worked, the conversation drifted.

“You’re better at this than I expected,” she said, handing him a spoon to stir.

He smiled. “Careful. If you keep complimenting me, I might come back for more lessons.”

She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Cooking isn’t glamorous work, Your Highness. It’s just… survival.”

“Maybe,” he said, his tone thoughtful, “but there’s something… grounding about it. It feels real.”

She looked at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You really hate that palace life, don’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away, instead focusing on the steady motion of the spoon in the pot. “I don’t hate it,” he said eventually. “It’s just… hollow. Every decision is made for me. Every word is calculated. I don’t know who I’m supposed to be in all of it.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze distant. “You’re lucky, though,” she said softly. “Even if it’s hollow, you have a place. A name. People like me… we’re just the shadows keeping the fire alive.”

He stopped stirring, her words settling heavily in the space between them. “I don’t think that’s true,” he said after a moment.

She tilted her head, her expression sceptical. “No?”

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re more than that. You’re clever. Strong. Independent. You see things I never could.”

She blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his voice.

“That’s what I like about you,” he added softly, almost without thinking.

The words hung in the air, and he froze, realising too late what he’d said.

Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she turned away quickly, pretending to adjust the pot on the stove.

His own face burned as he fumbled for something to say, but nothing came. The silence stretched on, heavy and charged, until she finally spoke, her voice quieter than before.

“You should taste the stew,” she said, not looking at him.

He stepped forward, dipping the spoon into the pot and taking a tentative sip.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice softer now.

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though she still didn’t meet his gaze.

The evening deepened, the chill of the autumn air seeping through the thin walls of the small house. Charles noticed her slight shiver as she ladled the stew into two mismatched bowls, the threadbare shawl around her shoulders doing little to shield her from the cold.

He stood abruptly, unfastening the clasp of his heavy cloak. She turned to look at him, startled, as he stepped behind her and draped it gently over her shoulders.

“What are you doing?” she asked, pulling the thick fabric around herself instinctively.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, sitting back down and picking up his bowl.

She hesitated, looking at him with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. “But you’ll freeze without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied with a small smile. “I’ve survived colder nights, army and all of that.”

The warmth of the cloak seemed to envelop her, and she relaxed slightly, sitting down across from him. For a moment, they ate in silence, the quiet clinking of their spoons the only sound.

When their bowls were empty, Charles glanced around the modest room, noticing for the first time the lack of a hearthfire.

“Do you light a fire at night?” he asked, though he already suspected the answer.

She shook her head. “Can’t afford firewood,” she said matter-of-factly, collecting their bowls. “It’s not so bad. We manage.”

“Oh,” was all he managed to say, though the thought of her and her brother enduring nights in such cold unsettled him deeply.

She didn’t seem to notice his reaction, busying herself with tidying up.

Later, as he prepared to leave, she hesitated by the door, holding his cloak out to him.

“Take this back,” she said softly.

He pushed her hand gently back toward her. “Keep it,” he insisted. “For tonight.”

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped, the words faltering. Finally, she nodded, her fingers tightening around the fabric.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He smiled at her one last time before stepping out into the night, the chill biting at him instantly as he made his way back to the palace.

She played with the royal clasp of his cloak as he left and wondered what her life would be like if she wasn’t just a servant and he wasn’t the Crown Prince of Monaco.

No less than a few days later, her brother barged into the small house, his footsteps heavy against the creaking floorboards.

“Why,” he began, his voice loud and incredulous, “is there months’ worth of firewood outside the house?”

She looked up from where she was patching a worn-out scarf, distracted. “What are you talking about?”

“The firewood,” he repeated, gesturing wildly toward the door. “There’s a mountain of it, just sitting there! Did you rob a lumberyard?”

She frowned, setting down her work and walking to the door. When she stepped outside, her eyes widened at the sight of the neatly stacked pile of firewood by the side of the house.

“I… I don’t know,” she stammered, completely bewildered.

It was then that she noticed a small slip of paper tucked into the top of the stack. Pulling it free, she unfolded it to reveal a note written in a familiar, elegant hand.

Keep warm – C

Her cheeks flushed, and a small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Her brother leaned over her shoulder, reading the note. “C?” he asked suspiciously. “Who’s C?”

She folded the note quickly, tucking it into her apron pocket. “No one,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

Her brother narrowed his eyes but didn’t press further, shaking his head as he muttered something about princes and their peculiarities.

She was fluffing the pillows on the freshly made bed when the door to the prince’s chambers swung open. Charles strode in, his expression lighting up the moment he saw her. Without hesitation, he leapt onto the bed, landing with a dramatic bounce that sent a pillow tumbling to the floor.

“You’re back!” he exclaimed, grinning. “And you’re better!”

“And you just ruined the bed I made.” she chided but then moved on to adjusting a vase on the side table. “Well I must say, a lit fire at night changes a whole lot.”

He froze for a fraction of a second, then sat up, feigning ignorance with an exaggerated shrug. “Oh? A fire, you say? That’s… good to hear. Fires are quite helpful, I’m told.”

Her smirk widened. “I’m sure someone told you that.”

“Perhaps,” he said, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But we’re not here to discuss firewood logistics, are we?”

She rolled her eyes, walking around the room to dust the mantel. “Then what would you like to discuss, Your Highness?”

He sighed heavily, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm over his face. “The princess of England.”

She raised an eyebrow, glancing over at him. “Oh?”

“I have to meet her again,” he groaned. “Another tea, another tedious conversation about fabrics or her needlework or some other mind-numbing topic. I swear, I’d rather duel blindfolded than sit through it.”

She snorted, biting back a laugh. “Blindfolded? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said, peeking at her from under his arm. “It’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Of course it is,” she said, her tone dripping with mock sincerity. “Because what’s more reasonable than a prince skewering himself just to avoid small talk?”

He sat up, clutching his chest theatrically. “You wound me, madam. Truly, your lack of sympathy is cruel.”

She gave him a sidelong glance, shaking her head as she set the duster aside. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he replied, grinning.

She turned back to the mantel, but when the silence stretched, she glanced over her shoulder. He was watching her, his expression soft, his eyes warm and intent.

Her brow furrowed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He blinked, snapping out of his reverie, and quickly looked away, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t looking at you.”

“You absolutely were,” she said, crossing her arms and giving him a suspicious look.

“No, I was… thinking,” he said, his voice a touch too casual.

She arched an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Thinking about what?”

“About…” He scrambled for an answer, then pointed toward the bed. “About how well you made this bed. Truly impressive. Best I’ve ever seen.”

She rolled her eyes again, but a faint blush crept into her cheeks. “Right,” she said, picking up her duster. “Well, I’ll leave you to your very important thinking, then.”

He watched her go, his chest tightening as the door clicked softly shut behind her.

Over the next few days, Charles found himself increasingly distracted. Whether strolling through the palace gardens or enduring another tiresome tea with the princess, his thoughts invariably drifted to her. The way her wit kept him on his toes. The quiet determination in her movements. The occasional flicker of softness beneath her sharp remarks.

It was maddening.

When he was near her, he found excuses to linger. When she wasn’t around, he searched for her without realising it. And as much as he tried to push the growing ache in his chest aside, he couldn’t deny what was happening.

He’d fallen for her.

It was late afternoon when he returned to his chambers after a gruelling diplomatic meeting. To his delight, she was there, dusting the intricate carvings on the wooden frame of his bed. She didn’t notice him enter, humming softly to herself as she worked.

He leaned casually against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before clearing his throat.

She jumped, spinning around to face him, clutching her duster like a weapon. “Do you have to sneak up on me?”

“It’s my room,” he said, smirking. “I can hardly sneak into my own space.”

She scowled, turning back to her work. “You’re insufferable.”

“So you’ve said,” he replied, stepping further into the room. “But you keep coming back. Perhaps I’m growing on you.”

“I come back because it’s my job,” she retorted, moving to dust a nearby shelf.

He followed her, leaning lazily against the furniture. “A job you seem to excel at. Though I wonder… do you enjoy tormenting me as much as I enjoy tormenting you?”

She shot him a sharp glance, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Someone has to keep your ego in check, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, reaching out to pluck the duster from her hand. “You do it so well,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her breath hitched slightly as he leaned closer, her eyes darting to his before flicking away. “You should stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing as he leaned closer still, his face mere inches from hers.

“Whatever it is you’re doing,” she said, stepping back slightly, only to find herself against the edge of the shelf.

The tension in the air was palpable, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His gaze was locked on hers, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to vanish.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.

“Charles?” his brother’s voice called from the hallway.

Panic flared in her eyes, and Charles acted on instinct, grabbing her wrist and pulling her toward the large wardrobe at the side of the room.

“What are you—” she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips as he opened the wardrobe door and ushered her inside.

The space was small, barely enough for the two of them. She pressed herself against the back wall as he stepped in, closing the door behind them.

The darkness was absolute, and the only sound was the quiet shuffle of their breaths.

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

A beat passed, and she whispered back, her voice laced with frustration, “If we get caught, it’ll be my neck, not yours.”

“No one’s getting caught,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

In the confined space, his hand brushed against hers, and he froze. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his fingers moved to her face. His touch was light, tentative, as though he feared she might vanish at any moment.

His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, brushing against her skin with agonising slowness. Her breath hitched, and in the silence, it felt deafening.

“Why are you…” she began, but her voice faltered as his fingers brushed the line of her jaw, lingering there for a moment before sliding to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“You’re too close,” she replied, though her tone lacked conviction.

The faintest smile curved his lips, though she couldn’t see it in the dark. “You’re not stopping me,” he said softly.

Before she could respond, his brother’s voice echoed from the other side of the room. “Charles, where are you?”

He leaned closer, his forehead nearly brushing hers. “Stay still,” he murmured, his hand still cradling her cheek.

She closed her eyes, the tension in the small space suffocating and electric all at once.

Footsteps receded as his brother left the room, grumbling something about missing him.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, Charles let out a slow breath, his hand dropping from her face. He opened the wardrobe door slightly, letting in the dim light of the room.

“Safe,” he said quietly, stepping back to let her out.

She stepped past him, her cheeks flushed and her breaths uneven. “You’re reckless,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze as she hurried to gather her duster.

He smirked, leaning against the wardrobe door. “And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

She shot him a glare over her shoulder, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.

“Get back to work, Your Highness,” she said, her tone sharp but her voice unsteady.

He chuckled softly, watching her go.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Charles’s chambers, painting golden streaks across the plush rug. She was there again, this time at his desk, meticulously polishing the brass handles of the drawers. She worked with the same quiet efficiency she always did, her movements steady, purposeful.

Charles, reclining lazily on the settee, had been pretending to read a book for the past ten minutes. In truth, he’d barely turned a page. His attention was drawn, as it so often was these days, to her.

He cleared his throat, drawing her attention. “Have you ever taken a moment to rest?”

She glanced at him briefly before returning to her task. “I rest when my work is done.”

“And when is it done?” he pressed, setting the book down and rising to his feet.

She didn’t answer immediately, her focus still on the brass handle in her hand. “When your chambers sparkle, Your Highness.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “It already sparkles. You’ve polished this desk so many times I can see my reflection.”

She huffed softly, clearly unimpressed. “There’s still dust.”

He reached out, his hand gently brushing hers as she gripped the cloth. She stilled, her breath catching as his fingers lingered over hers.

“You’re relentless,” he murmured, his voice low.

Her eyes flicked to his, wide and uncertain. “And you’re in my way.”

He smiled, his expression teasing but his gaze intent. “I’m rarely in anyone’s way. It’s a novelty.”

She tried to step back, but he moved with her, closing the distance between them. “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Observing,” he said, his voice soft, warm, as if he were sharing a secret. “You’re endlessly fascinating to watch, you know.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but he reached out, gently tilting her chin so she’d meet his eyes again.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” she said, her voice shaky.

“Why not?”

“Because…” She faltered, her lips parting as she searched for words. “Because you shouldn’t.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand still holding her chin. The air between them was heavy, charged with something neither of them dared name.

“You’re trembling again,” he said softly, the corner of his mouth lifting in the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not,” she said quickly, but her voice betrayed her.

“You are,” he whispered, his thumb brushing her jaw in the lightest of touches.

Her breath hitched, and her hands tightened around the cloth she still held. “This is dangerous,” she managed, though her tone was weak.

“For you?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “Or for me?”

She couldn’t answer, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

His hand moved, the backs of his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, then down to her neck, where his thumb rested lightly against her pulse. He felt it hammering beneath his touch and smiled softly, almost as if he were marvelling at it.

“You feel it too,” he said, his voice low and intimate, as if the world beyond this moment didn’t exist.

She swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she finally pushed lightly at his chest. “You… need to stop.”

For a moment, he didn’t move, his gaze locked on hers. Then, slowly, he stepped back, though the tension in the air lingered like a storm about to break.

She turned away quickly, grabbing her cloth and pretending to busy herself with the desk again, though her hands shook so much she nearly dropped it.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice stopping her in her tracks.

She didn’t turn back to him, but she nodded slightly, her voice quiet. “Don’t do it again.”

But neither of them believed that.

That night the crackle of the fire in the grand drawing room filled the silence as Charles poured himself another glass of brandy. His younger brother lounged in the chair across from him, a glass already in hand.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Arthur said, swirling his drink. “Even more so than usual.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking beneath him. “Have I?”

Arthur arched an eyebrow. “You spent half of tea with the English delegation yesterday staring at the window. I’m pretty sure they could have declared war, and you wouldn’t have noticed.”

Charles chuckled, though it lacked his usual mirth. He stared into his glass, the amber liquid catching the firelight.

“Arthur,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

His brother tilted his head, curious. “What?”

“What would you think of… being the next heir to the throne?”

Arthur blinked, then laughed, loud and incredulous. “What, you’re not planning on dying anytime soon, are you?”

“No,” Charles said, shaking his head, his lips twitching into a faint smile.

Arthur leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “Then why would you ask that?”

Charles swirled his drink, his gaze distant. “Just… wondering.”

Arthur snorted, leaning back again. “Abdicating is social suicide. If you’re even entertaining the thought, I’d advise you to stop immediately.”

Charles stayed silent, his thumb brushing idly along the rim of his glass.

The quiet stretched, and Arthur froze mid-drink, lowering his glass to the table with a sharp clink. His eyes widened, and his voice dropped. “You’re not thinking of abdicating… are you?”

Charles didn’t respond right away, his jaw tightening as he stared into the fire.

“Cha,” Arthur pressed, his voice rising slightly. “What the hell is going on with you? Who’s put this absurd idea in your head?”

Charles glanced at him, his expression inscrutable. “It’s not absurd.”

“It is when you’re the crown prince of Monaco,” Arthur snapped, sitting up straighter. “You’d give up everything—power, privilege, our family’s legacy—for what? A whim? A fleeting fancy?”

“It’s not a fancy,” Charles said sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

Arthur blinked, taken aback by his brother’s rare flash of anger. “Then what is it?”

Charles leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and staring hard at his brother. “What if I told you it’s something real? That I’ve found something—someone—who makes me feel more alive than anything this throne ever could?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped slightly, his expression caught between shock and disbelief. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly serious,” Charles said, his tone firm.

Arthur exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t just about a servant, is it?”

Charles’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing. “How—”

“Please,” Arthur said, waving a hand. “You think I haven’t noticed? The way you’ve been sneaking out, the looks you give when you think no one’s watching? The firewood? You’re an open book.”

Charles leaned back, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I underestimated you.”

“And you’re underestimating the chaos you’d cause,” Arthur shot back. “Do you have any idea what this would mean for the family? For Monaco?”

Charles’s expression hardened. “For once, I’m thinking about what it would mean for me.”

Arthur stared at him, the firelight casting shadows across his face. “You’d walk away from all of this?”

“If it meant being with her?” Charles said, his voice soft but resolute. “Yes. I would.”

The weight of his words settled over them, and for once, Arthur didn’t have a quick retort.

The next few days were torturous for Charles. Each moment stretched longer than the last, his thoughts dominated by her. Every step he took through the palace halls felt meaningless without catching sight of her—her quick smile, her quiet resolve, the way she challenged him without fear.

He thought of her words, her laughter, the way her cheeks flushed when he teased her. More than that, he thought of the way she made him feel—seen, understood, even cherished in a way that no title or crown could replicate.

His heart ached with the weight of it, with the need to tell her, to unburden himself of the truth that had taken root so deeply he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

But how? How could he look her in the eye and admit what he was so sure would unravel the tenuous balance between them?

One morning, he found himself wandering aimlessly through the palace gardens. It was the time of day she often brought fresh linens from the storage to the castle, she usually crossed the gardens. He lingered, hoping for a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Frustrated, he returned to his chambers, pacing the space restlessly, thinking. No, waiting to next see her. When she finally arrived, carrying a tray of fresh tea and biscuits, his breath hitched.

“You’re pacing,” she said, placing the tray on the table. “That’s never a good sign.”

“I’ve been restless,” he admitted, stopping mid-stride. “And you’re late.”

She raised an eyebrow as she set the tea. “Didn’t know I was on your schedule.”

He crossed the room to her, his steps deliberate. “I notice when you’re not here.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before she resumed arranging the tea things. “I’m just a servant, Your Highness. Surely you have better things to notice.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice dropping.

She looked up at him, her expression guarded. “It should be.”

He wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t her place to decide what mattered to him, but the vulnerability in her gaze stopped him. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Have you eaten today?”

She frowned, clearly caught off guard. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I’d wager you haven’t,” he said, stepping closer. “You work yourself to the bone.”

She shrugged, turning back to her task. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s not an answer,” he said, his tone softer now. “Come. Sit with me for a moment.”

She hesitated, glancing at the door. “If someone sees—”

“No one will,” he said, moving to pull a chair out for her. “Please.”

Her eyes darted between him and the chair before she sighed, giving in and sitting reluctantly.

He poured her a cup of tea, his movements unhurried. As he handed it to her, their fingers brushed, and he felt the now-familiar spark that always seemed to follow her touch.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said quietly, looking down at the tea.

“Do what?”

“Treat me like I’m someone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Someone important.”

His chest tightened. “You are.”

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, filled with a mix of disbelief and something else—something that made his breath catch.

For a moment, he thought about saying it, about laying it all out before her. But the words caught in his throat, weighed down by the fear of what her reaction might be.

The next day, Charles found himself waiting for her in his chambers again, anticipation thrumming through him. When she arrived, her arms full of fresh linens, he immediately noticed the faint circles under her eyes.

“You’re overworking yourself again,” he said, standing from his seat near the window.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her tone brisk as she moved to change the bedding.

“You’re not,” he countered, moving closer.

She straightened, turning to face him. “Why do you care?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken truths.

“Because…” He hesitated, his hands flexing at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because you matter to me.”

Her lips parted, her breath catching. “Charles, don’t—”

“I’m not trying to overstep,” he said quickly. “But you should know—I can’t ignore it anymore.”

“Ignore what?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. She stepped back instinctively, breaking the moment.

Over the next few days, he was quieter, more pensive. He found himself watching her more often, the words he wanted to say always on the tip of his tongue. But every time he opened his mouth, the weight of the risks stopped him.

What if she didn’t feel the same? What if she did, but couldn’t say so?

The questions tormented him, each one drawing him closer to the inevitable conclusion: he had to tell her.

But how could he make her understand the depth of his feelings without ruining everything?

Charles really tried to wait it out, he tried so hard.

But when the rain lashed outside his chambers where he sat in the dimly lit room, the fire crackling softly in the hearth.

He worried.

It was late, far later than when she usually came, but he had waited, a knot of tension in his chest.

When the door finally opened, and she stepped inside with her usual quiet grace, drenched from the rain with his laundry in a covered basket, his heart leapt.

“You’re soaked,” he said, standing quickly. “You shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

She shrugged, setting the basket down by the door. “Work doesn’t stop for a storm, Your Highness.”

He frowned, crossing the room to her. “Take off that cloak; you’ll catch your death.”

“I’m fine,” she said, brushing past him toward the hearth, but her shivering betrayed her words.

He moved closer, pulling her gently toward the warmth of the fire. “Why do you always insist on pretending you’re fine when you’re not?”

She stiffened under his touch. “Because I have no other choice.”

Her words hit him harder than he expected. He reached for her hands, his thumbs brushing over her cold fingers. “You shouldn’t have to live like this.”

She pulled her hands back, looking at him with a mixture of confusion and caution. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He hesitated, his heart pounding. “I can’t keep pretending. Not anymore.”

“Pretending what?” she asked, her voice quiet but steady.

“That I don’t feel this,” he said, stepping closer. “That I don’t feel everything for you.”

Her eyes widened, her breath catching. “Charles…”

“I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out, raw and unguarded. “I’ve tried to fight it, to ignore it, but I can’t. I don’t want to.”

Before she could even stop them, tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head, stepping back. “You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

“I do,” he said firmly, closing the distance between them again. “I’d give up everything—this title, this life—if it meant being with you.”

Her tears spilled over then, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice breaking. “If I’m not happy here—if I can’t have the life I want—what good is any of this?”

“Because you don’t know what you’re saying,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ve lived in a palace your entire life, with servants, banquets, comfort. You don’t know what it’s like to live without it. To go to bed on an empty stomach. To wake up not knowing if you’ll have work the next day. I can’t do that to you.”

“You wouldn’t be doing it to me,” he said desperately. “It would be my choice.”

She shook her head again, her tears falling faster now. “And what happens when you realise you can’t live like that? When the reality of it sets in? You’ll resent me. And I’ll lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” he said, his voice pleading as he reached for her hands again. “I swear to you, you won’t.”

“I don’t have a good life,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can barely take care of myself. How could I take care of you?”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” he said, his hands tightening around hers. “I just need you. I don’t care about the rest.”

She looked at him, her eyes searching his, her tears glistening in the firelight. “You’re asking me to believe in something that feels impossible.”

“Then let me prove it to you,” he said, his voice breaking as his own tears threatened to fall. “Please. Give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

Her resolve wavered, her breath hitching as his words sank in. She wanted to believe him—desperately—but the fear of what they would face, of what they would lose, loomed over her.

“Cha…” she began, her voice cracking.

“Please,” he whispered, his forehead resting against hers. “Say yes. Just… say yes.”

For a long, agonising moment, the only sound was the rain pounding against the windows and the crackle of the fire.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she said finally, her voice barely audible.

“Then we’ll figure it out together,” he said, cupping her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “But don’t push me away. Not now. Not when I know you feel this too.”

Her lips quivered, and she closed her eyes, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. “You’re impossible,” she whispered.

“And you’re everything,” he replied, his voice trembling with emotion.

After pacing around his room for a few days, thinking of how he was going to tell his father, Charles went to his study.

The atmosphere in the king’s study was heavy with tension, the air almost crackling as Charles stood before his father. The older man sat behind an imposing mahogany desk, his expression dark and unreadable. The storm that had raged days earlier seemed to have shifted inside these walls, centering on the room as if the universe sensed the coming conflict.

“I need to speak with you,” Charles began, his voice steady but tight.

The king set down the pen he had been holding, his gaze sharp. “This sounds serious.”

“It is,” Charles replied, straightening his shoulders. “I’ve made a decision.”

The king leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “I see. Go on, then.”

“I’m going to abdicate.”

For a moment, the words seemed to hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on the room.

Then, the king’s expression darkened further, his voice sharp and incredulous. “You’re what?”

“I’ve decided I don’t want the throne,” Charles said firmly. “It’s not the life I want anymore.”

The king rose from his chair, his movements slow and deliberate as he loomed over the desk. “Do you even understand what you’re saying? What you’re throwing away?”

“Yes,” Charles said, meeting his father’s gaze without flinching. “I’ve thought about this—more than you know. I don’t want this life. I want…” He hesitated, his voice softening. “I want to live my own life.”

The king scoffed, shaking his head. “And what life would that be? One of obscurity? Of poverty? You’ve never gone a day without comfort, without privilege. You know nothing of what it’s like out there, and you think you can just… give all of this up?”

“I do,” Charles said, his tone resolute.

The king’s eyes narrowed. “This is about her, isn’t it? That servant girl. Your mother mentioned her but I did not believe her.”

Charles’s chest tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Yes. It’s about her. But it’s also about me. About what I want, who I want to be. And I know I don’t want this.”

“Don’t be a fool,” the king snapped, his voice rising. “You think love is enough to sustain you? That some fantasy of a simpler life will keep you warm when reality sets in? She can’t give you what you need, Charles.”

“She gives me what I want,” Charles shot back, his voice fierce. “And for once, isn’t that enough?”

“No, it isn’t!” the king roared, slamming his hand on the desk. “You’re a prince! You have a duty—to your family, to your people. You can’t just walk away because of some fleeting infatuation.”

“It’s not fleeting,” Charles said, his voice dropping but losing none of its intensity. “I love her. And I’d rather live a life with her—whatever that looks like—than spend one more moment pretending to be happy here.”

The king laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You’re naïve. You don’t even know how to survive out there.”

“She’ll teach me,” Charles said, surprising even himself with the certainty in his voice. “I want to learn. I want that life—with her.”

The king stared at him, his face a mixture of disbelief and frustration. “You’re throwing away everything you’ve ever known for a life of struggle. For what?”

“For love,” Charles said simply.

The room fell silent, the only sound the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. The king finally sat back down, rubbing a hand over his face. When he looked up again, his expression was weary but no less stern.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.

“Maybe,” Charles replied. “But it’s my mistake to make.”

The king’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze searching his son’s face as if looking for a crack in his resolve. But Charles stood firm, his decision made.

“You’ll regret this,” the king said finally, his voice heavy with warning.

“Perhaps,” Charles said. “But I’ll never regret choosing her.”

Without another word, he turned and walked out of the study, leaving his father staring after him in silence.

The rumours spread like wildfire. Whispers followed Charles wherever he walked, his every step trailed by servants and courtiers exchanging furtive glances and hushed speculations. The air in the palace buzzed with the shock of his decision, but none of it mattered to him. Not the disapproval etched into his father’s face, nor the incredulous murmurs of the courtiers. His mind was focused solely on her.

He found her in the palace laundry room, folding linens with the quiet efficiency that always seemed to calm her. When he walked in, she froze, her fingers clutching the corner of a sheet.

“You,” she began, her voice a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “You really went through with it?”

He stepped closer, his hands tucked behind his back, his face calm but his eyes alight with purpose. “I told you I would.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “I thought—Charles, I thought it was just talk. Something you’d get over once you realised how insane it is.”

“Well, I’m officially insane,” he said with a faint smile, stepping closer.

She dropped the sheet onto the table and turned to face him fully, her arms crossed. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? The crown, the throne, your entire future—it’s gone. All of it. For what?”

“For you,” he said simply.

Her mouth opened, but no words came. Finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “You’re impossible. Do you know what this means? I can’t work here anymore, not if you abdicate. The palace won’t keep me.”

“I know,” he said gently. “And I wouldn’t ask you to stay here. We’ll leave—together.”

“Leave?” she echoed, blinking at him.

“Yes,” he said, stepping closer until he was just in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about it. We can go somewhere no one knows us, where we can start fresh.”

She stared at him like he’d grown another head. “Where would we even go?”

“Italy,” he said with a small smile.

“Italy?” she repeated, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, maybe Marenello,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “It’s beautiful, the weather is perfect, and… I don’t know, it just feels right.”

She let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Charles, I don’t even speak Italian.”

He tilted his head, his smile widening. “Then, for once, I’ll get to teach you something.”

His words hung in the air, so tender and unexpected that she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. The corners of his eyes crinkled at her reaction, and before she could say anything else, he stepped even closer and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through her. “You’re serious about this,” she whispered.

“Completely,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m not afraid of starting over, not if it’s with you.”

For a moment, she let herself believe it could be possible—this crazy, impossible dream of theirs.

“When?” she asked softly.

“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice full of quiet resolve. “After I sign the abdication papers.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with wide, searching eyes. “And then what?”

He smiled, his expression both calm and full of determination. “And then we start the life we’ve always wanted.”

She didn’t want to be vulgar, she really didn’t but she had to be honest.

She was shitting herself at the thought of being summoned into the King’s office with the entire family.

The office was uncharacteristically quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of the palace muffled by the thick doors. Charles sat at the massive oak desk, the official abdication papers spread out before him. Arthur stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of bewilderment and unease while his parents stood by the desk with a clear look of disdain etched on their faces.

She stood near the doorway, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She looked smaller than usual, her nerves evident in the way her fingers twisted together. Her wide eyes darted between Charles and the papers, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of them.

Arthur broke the silence first. “Are you sure about what you’re doing, Cha?”

Charles’s pen hovered over the signature line, but he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked up at her. She met his gaze, and in that instant, the rest of the room faded away. The worry in her eyes, the way her lips pressed together as if she was holding back words—it was as if he was falling in love all over again.

“You don’t have to do this for me, Cha,” she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He smiled at her, then, without hesitation, he bent his head and signed his name in bold strokes across the paper.

The moment was electric, the scratch of the pen on parchment the only sound in the room. When he finally set the pen down, it felt as if the world had shifted, as if something monumental had been set into motion.

Arthur exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Well, there it is,” he muttered, his voice carrying a mixture of disbelief and resignation. “You’re officially insane.”

Charles stood, his movements deliberate as he turned to face her. “Go back to your house,” he said, his voice steady but laced with an urgency that made her breath hitch. “Pack your things. Tell your brother. We’re leaving at six.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to protest, but before she could say a word, Arthur muttered something about needing air and slipped out of the room, leaving them alone, his parents following shortly behind.

The silence that followed was thick with tension, their gazes locked as the gravity of what had just happened sank in.

“You…” she began, her voice trembling. “You really did it.”

“I did,” he said, stepping closer to her.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, he cupped her face gently in his hands. The world seemed to pause, the space between them charged with an intensity that neither of them could deny any longer.

And then he kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was savouring the moment he had dreamed of for so long. But when she leaned into him, her hands clutching his jacket as if to anchor herself, the kiss deepened, becoming a silent promise of everything they were about to face together.

When they finally pulled apart, her cheeks were flushed, her breathing uneven. He rested his forehead against hers, his hands still cradling her face.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

She blinked, her eyes shining as she searched his face. “I love you too,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. Because she did, she didn’t know when she exactly fell in love with him. Maybe it was when he first came to her house and looked at it with wonder rather than judgement or maybe it was when they shared that intimate moment in the wardrobe.

He smiled, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Then go,” he said. “Pack your things. This time tomorrow, we’ll be miles away from here. Together.”

She nodded, her resolve strengthening as she stepped back, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she turned and slipped out of the office.

Charles stood there for a moment, the weight of what he’d just done settling in his chest. But for the first time in his life, he felt truly free.

the end.

[bloatedandalone04]

My Drug is My Baby

➪the one where you and rafe can’t keep your hands off each other during your honeymoon.

Warnings: kook rafe/pogue reader, swearing, fluff (barely), smut, unprotected sex, semi-public smut, slight exhibition kink, hair pulling, dirty talk, size difference/kink, cock warming i think, spanking (whoops), rafe’s an ass man, i said what i said, he’s also a dom, bc obviously. (all i’ve been thinking about lately is rafe, so i’m doing something about it, yw).

Word Count: 2.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Rafe never thought he’d be one to get his life in order or find a nice girl to settle down with and get married to, but here he is in a stunning (and very expensive) resort in Florida with you by his side. 

Wrapped around your finger were two rings, one holding a large, heavy diamond, and the other being a simple wedding band. ‘Simple’, yet it was embedded with smaller diamonds. 

Around Rafe’s finger was a gold band that showed every girl at this resort who gave him the ‘fuck me’ eyes how committed he is to you and only you, and how they could waste their time all they want. He’d be a fucking idiot to ever let you go. 

It was kind of crazy to think that less than a year ago, you were just another Pogue and he was a Kook who vowed to never do more than sleep with someone who was much less privileged than he was, but now he is married to you. Really, the standards of the society pretty much flew right out the window the second he saw you. 

You were drop dead gorgeous, the most beautiful girl Rafe had ever seen. And though his friends told him to not waste his time with someone like you, Rafe was really fucking glad that he promptly ignored them and got you to go on a date with him, because less than four months after that date, you were engaged, and only five months later, you were married. 

And now you were on your honeymoon and even more clingy and touchy than ever. Rafe never thought of himself as a very touchy person, but with you, he wanted to touch you all the time. Holding your hand in stores or on the street, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind when standing in lines, having his arm draped around your shoulders while sitting on the couch, or placing his hand on your thigh while in a car. 

Right now, he was leaning back on a pool lounger with you in his arms, your back pressed against his bare chest as his fingers traced random shapes onto the skin of your stomach. For some reason, ever since that first date, Rafe couldn’t seem to keep his hands off you. You were so much smaller than him, but you fit perfectly against him, he couldn’t help but want to touch you everywhere all the time. 

He had fallen so in love with you in so little time, he wasn’t sure if the honeymoon phase would ever end. And honestly, he didn’t want it to.

The sun was beating down on the both of you, but the breeze from the empty, still pool helped keep you from overheating. You sighed quietly, leaning more against him as you closed your eyes, the sun still very bright even through your sunglasses. “It’s so pretty here, Rae,” you mumbled, turning your head to place a soft kiss to his heated skin. “Makes me want to never leave. I want to stay right here, with you, for the rest of my life.”

That sounded amazing to Rafe, and he wouldn’t mind starting every morning exactly like this for the next week. He’d gone all out on both the wedding and the honeymoon, spending a pretty penny on them to ensure you’d have the best experience during both events. The room you were staying in was huge, and it has a huge bed that Rafe had fucked you in for a solid hour on your first night here.

He couldn’t help it and he couldn’t be blamed. You were his wife now. You were all his.  

Rafe laughed, the deep sound vibrating your back as his breath tickled the shell of your ear. “I’d be more than willing to stay right here if you want to spend the rest of your life on top of me,” he teased, his fingers dipping lower to brush against the inside of your thigh. “We’ve got a whole week ahead of us, baby. A week of doing nothing but this all day. And you’re looking really fucking hot right now.” His other hand moved to grope your breast, his thumb brushing against your nipple through the thin fabric of your bikini top as his lips found your pulse point and kissed it gently. 

“Rae,” you laughed quietly, pressing your thighs together as you leaned back against him more firmly, your sunglasses sliding down your nose until you just decided to take them off. “We’re in public…you can’t say that to me.” Your words were a feeble attempt at teasing him, because he had rented the room that came with the private pool and patio. No one was around to hear you, let alone see you. 

Rafe smirked, licking and sucking at your neck before he lifted his head, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can say whatever the fuck I want to my wife,” he murmured into your ear, his hand sliding back up your thigh until his fingers grazed the edge of your bikini bottoms. His teeth gently tugged at your earlobe as his hand slid beneath the red fabric, his lips curving when he heard your sharp inhale. “Are you forgetting that this place belongs to us for the next eight days? No one’s around to see my pretty girl get all needy for me.”

“Rafe,” you whined, biting down on your lip as you arched your back and subtly spread your thighs a bit wider. You turned your head again and pressed your face against the side of his neck, brushing soft kisses along his skin. “God, you’re so hot, baby.”

Rafe groaned, his cock starting to harden as his fingers slid through your slick folds. “Mmm, you’re so wet for me,” he mumbled, his middle finger dipping inside your wet heat before he pulled it back out and brought it up to his lips for a taste. “So fucking good, baby.”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply as his hands gripped your hips, turning you on his lap so you’re properly straddling him. Slowly, he guided you to grind against him, the outline of his cock evident through the dark fabric of his trunks. 

“Ride me, pretty girl,” he rasped against your mouth, his fingers playing with the thin strings of your bikini on either side of your hips. One pull, and your lower half would be bare, and the thought was becoming more and more appealing to him the longer you moved on top of him. 

“Like this?” You asked, already breathless as you caressed his face in your hands, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock through the fabric of his shorts. 

Rafe groaned, tipping his head back on the chair. “Exactly like that, baby,” he muttered, his hands gripping your ass as he guided you to move a bit faster. “Just like that.”

The rough fabric of his swimming trunks brushed deliciously against your clit, making you moan a bit louder and brace your hands on his shoulders for more support. 

You were so hot, Rafe couldn’t believe that you were all his. The sexy, shameless woman riding his lap in public was all his. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he muttered, leaning up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue brushed against yours, one of his hands tangling in your hair as he bucked up against you. He broke the kiss, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he grunted, “I need to be inside you, baby. Right now.” 

With that, he wrapped his arms under your thighs and lifted you as he stood up, carrying you towards the sliding doors that lead back into the suite. You squealed, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist as you peppered kisses along his neck. “You love me so much,” you teased, nuzzling your nose behind his ear as he slid the door closed behind him, not bothering to close the curtains as he walked over to the bed and pulled at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the damp fabric fall to the floor. 

“Yeah, I fucking do,” he agreed, giving your ass a firm squeeze before tossing you onto the king sized bed. You bounced a bit as you tried to steady yourself, a needy whine of excitement leaving your lips.  “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

When you quickly turned around and braced yourself up on your hands and knees, Rafe stepped towards the bed, one of his hands running along the length of your spine. His other hand came down onto your ass, giving it a sharp smack that made a loud moan slip past your lips. 

God, you were so fucking sexy and so perfect for him, Rafe would never get enough. “That’s for getting me so addicted to you,” he mumbled before pulling at the strings of his shorts and pushing them down his legs. He propped one knee up on the bed next to yours, keeping one foot planted firmly on the floor as gripped your waist. “You’re so perfect, aren’t you? My perfect girl.” 

Rafe gripped the base of his cock with one hand, running his length along your wet folds before bumping his tip against your clit a few times. “Rae,” you whined, clearly getting more and more riled up from his teasing. 

He smirked before guiding himself inside you, your soaked walls making him slide in with ease. Rafe groaned, his teeth sinking into his lip as he refrained from railing you like he wanted to. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered, his palm soothing your reddening skin from his previous smack. 

When he pulled back nearly all the way and then slid right back in, you let out a loud moan, your hands fisting the sheets of the unmade bed. “Fuck,” you whimpered, your head falling forward as he began to slowly fuck you from behind. 

“That’s it, baby,” Rafe grunted, moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts as he pulled at the string of your top, making the fabric hang loosely from your neck before you tugged it off and tossed it aside carelessly. 

He leaned down and pushed your hair to the side so he could press open mouthed kisses to the back of your neck, one of his hands reaching around to squeeze your breast. His grip on your waist tightened as he increased the pace, the soft slap of skin on skin filling the room as he began to pound into you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. So wet and tight for me,” he panted, leaning over you as he changed the angle just slightly. Your moans grew louder, your arms shaking a bit as his cock reached even deeper inside you, making his lips turn upwards in a smug smirk. “You like that, pretty girl? You love being stuffed full of me, don’t you?”

Rafe’s mouth was filthy both in and out of the bedroom, something he knew you loved, and that was very obvious from the way you clenched around him and got even louder. “Yes,” you answered, your body jolting forward with every deep thrust. “Fuck…yes.”

It was hard to believe that ten minutes ago, you were simply in his arms by the pool, and now here you are, on your hands and knees for him as he railed you from behind, your body completely bare for his greedy eyes and hands. His perfect little wife.

“Fuck, listen to those pretty noises you’re making,” he grunted, his hand gripping your waist tightly as he guided you back onto his cock. You were so tight, he could literally see the way your walls hugged him and took him in so deep every time he entered you, and the sight had his abs tensing as he groaned loudly. His free hand slid up your back until he had a fistful of your hair, and he tugged your head back just enough for you to feel it but not hard enough to hurt you. 

The bed, though sturdy, clearly wasn’t prepared for the rough fucking Rafe planned to give you every day for the next week since it creaked with every thrust, and he briefly wondered just how many honeymoon’s this suite had seen, and how many horny newly-weds this bed had fallen victim to. 

One thing he knew for sure was that you were the prettiest bride that had ever and will ever stay in this room, and he was one lucky fucker. 

When he gave your hair a sharp tug, you let out a whiny moan and clenched around him again, and Rafe knew you were close. “Yeah, that’s it. Cum for me, baby,” he rasped, speeding up even more until you were mumbling and moaning incoherently as your head tipped back onto his shoulder. He kissed all over the side of your neck and face as you came on his cock, his grip on your hair loosening as he fucked you through your high. 

“Rae,” you whimpered, shaking in his arms as you relied solely on him to keep you upright. 

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your jaw as he slowed his pace, his own high creeping up on him. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum too, baby. You feel too good.” 

Your face turned a faint shade of pink as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, your arm lifting up as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Cum for me, Rafe,” you encouraged weakly, nearly limp in his arms as you trembled from the sensitivity. 

His hand groped your breast, his thumb and index finger gently pinching your nipple as he buried himself as deep as physically possible and emptied himself inside you. “Fuck,” he grunted, pressing his face against the side of your neck as his hips jerked and stuttered, his cock filling you up with ropes of white. 

Once you had drained him of every drop, Rafe’s hand released your breast as his arm wrapped around your middle, slowly guiding you back on the bed as he leaned over you. 

“You’re so perfect, baby. I love you so fucking much, more than anything,” he mumbled, peppering your sweaty shoulder in kisses as he carefully rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so he was holding you from behind. “Stay just like this…I don’t wanna pull out yet.”

His words were slurred as his body still thrummed with the aftershocks, his big hand splayed across your stomach as he nuzzled his face against your neck. You hummed, pressing yourself more firmly against him. “Then stay inside me,” you mumbled, “We’ll stay like this for as long as you want to.” 

Rafe grinned lazily, holding you close to him. “I’m gonna hold you like this forever,” he said, his voice muffled against your neck as his thumb stroked along your stomach. “Never letting you go.”

Even though it was just past noon, you both had grown rather tired from that intense workout you just got finished doing. A quick nap sounded fucking amazing right now, especially if he got to stay connected with you and have your body wrapped up in his arms the whole time. 

This was heaven, Rafe decided, and he never wanted to go a single day without you ever again. 

And luckily, he would never have to.

[hismercytomyjustice]

So fucking true. My intrusive thoughts made me terrified to see a therapist at first. Because they were going to look at me and immediately know I was a danger to society or something. Then the therapist printed out this thing on Pure O OCD and I was just like “Oh, thank fuck.”

Still took me forever to realize I actually HAD OCD and that it wasn’t just ~spicy anxiety~…

Though now that I’ve gotten better at recognizing and defusing the “big, bad” ones, my intrusive thoughts have become a lot “smaller” and more subtle, which I found out in therapy yesterday.

The “big, bad” ones? Stuff like “what if I grab that knife and stab someone” might as well come with a flashing neon “OCD!” sign. Cognitive defusion, BAM!

Subtle, only personally distressing ones? Oh, that’s just a “normal” thought. Cue rumination and reassurance seeking, my ~favorite~ compulsions! Except I don’t realize that’s what I’m doing. Because I don’t realize it’s my OCD/an intrusive thought.

Like “what if I don’t want to learn piano anymore”? Now that is a sneaky intrusive thought. Because then I start spiraling about how I’ve wasted time and money on learning, how I’ve let myself and my teacher down, how I don’t practice enough (what even is enough?), how I’m not making progress like I should be (by whose standards?), how I don’t even know whether or not I even want to quit (because how does someone actually know that kind of thing?)… And I become increasingly more distressed about it all and am sitting there hardcore soul searching, making pros and cons lists, and the guilt is eating me a-fucking-live.

Aaaand. Surprise! Turns out that was my OCD in a trench coat! Because why would that be OCD? That’s just a normal thought, isn’t it? Plenty of people wonder if they enjoy something and if they should continue it, don’t they?

Absolutely! Just not like that!

This rambling reblog brought to you by my therapist starting a question to me yesterday with, “When you have intrusive thoughts like that…” and my mental response being:

Just wanted to share because I had no fucking clue and wish I’d realized those were intrusive thoughts sooner so I could’ve been treating them as such instead of unintentionally compulsing/lapsing.

I mean OCD is definitely very personal and obsessions and all vary widely from person to person, which can make it hard to pinpoint stuff like that sometimes. One person’s intrusive thought very easily can just be another’s regular thought. It’s hard to tell sometimes when they aren’t like the more examples you usually hear about, i.e. things that would be distressing to most people, which is why they’re used as examples.

For this Disability Pride Month, I saw a post that was shittybad and it made me angry. So have this

[catboybiologist]

Yay I'm going to get all Political and angry again.

So pretty much every trans American is probably aware of the Sarah McBride situation at this point, but here's the bullet point summary if needed for anyone else:

Sarah McBride gets elected to the House as the first transgender member of Congress in US history.

Republicans predictably flip their shit. They pass internal rules of conduct that prohibit trans people from using bathrooms of their gender and stating that bathroom use is defined by AGAB. It obviously singles out McBride, but I believe there are trans staffers that are also affected.

McBride issues a statement that she will abide by these rules, and pretty much only use the bathroom directly associated with her physical office. She issues a statement saying she "wasn't elected for bathrooms" and will instead fight in issues that matter, with a milquetoast criticism of Republicans for wasting time on this.

Many trans Americans are predictably scared and disappointed by this, especially because this internal house rule is being used as a blueprint for more extensive laws, including a likely ban on trans people in gendered bathrooms in all federal land and buildings (including, notably for me, national parks. Which breaks my heart, but that's a different rant.)

There's been a lot of disappointment and criticism of McBride over this. The general leftist reaction has been criticism. There's lots of people that have expressed disappointment or rage, including Erin Reed, and also more "personality" type people like Vaush and Jessie Gender.

Now.

I'm disappointed too.

But. And please keep reading before chewing me out for being an apologist.

I think we can all understand that McBride is in an impossible situation. If she fights this too hard, then it vindicates the Republican rhetoric that Dems are crazy trans obsessed leftists. But there's a fear that this will only lead to more infringements of rights for trans people. McBride is completely stuck, and is a junior, freshly elected member of Congress who is trying to figure out how to make her voice the most effective.

I am so, so fucking tired of rights being ceded one by one. So I'm disappointed. But yeah, I understand McBride's statement.

But there's just one tiny. Eeny weeny. Minor. Itty Bitty question having over all of this. Just one little concern.

Where.

The fuck.

Are the rest of the Democrats?!?!?!?

There is a PAINFULLY fucking easy solution to all of this. McBride needs backing, solidarity, and other people to speak for her. If she's worried about her voice being effective, and being branded as the crazy trans representative, then step the fucking up, you spineless liberal slimebags.

AOC is the only one that I know of that has expressed any real opposition or anger. Her statements are getting aaallll the airtime.

But the real story is McBride's sentiment being echoed amongst the entire party. This is absolutely some kind of official platform. The fucking grumbling, milquetoast finger waving and "well I don't like this, but there's nothing to be done! Anyways"

Of fucking course minorites are abandoning the left. The message they're sending is "we'll abandon you with the most pathetic of excuses. We don't give a shit." Trimming groups out of their support one by one.

McBride is doing the impossible calculus of trying to be the most effective on the house floor. It's an insane task for a trans woman. And yeah, she got it wrong this time. But where the fuck is the anger for her cis colleagues? Why the fuck aren't people angry and terrified for everyone that let this shit happen?

As much as people love the narrative of the line wolf resistor, resistance takes coordination, effort, and solidarity. Without that, what would McBride raising opposition even be? One representative against the hundreds of others.

And yeah, of course I didn't expect any better from the Democratic party. But you should be disappointed and mad at your representative, not just McBride.

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── you, clouds and rain (and the wine on your lips)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: my mindy requested something soft and domestic with a slice of spicy tension with hyun and who am i to say no? enjoyyy <33 and let me know your thoughts <3

When shooting your tired boyfriend a message this morning, inviting him over for lunch and a cuddle sesh by the television, the last thing you expected was a power outage. Even though it was still light outside, the sun and its bright rays were obscured by dark and angry clouds that could only mean one thing: rain.

Hyunjin was a fan of rain, loving the silence and how the whole world seemed to slow down and hurry home. He could be as silly as he wanted and nobody would judge him, too busy to remain dry to care about anything else. You, on the other hand, hated rain. It usually ruined all of your plans and kept you stuck inside, depriving you of sunlight and everything you loved. Including seeing your beloved and going on cute dates, holding hands throughout the day while exploring new and exciting places neither has seen before.

And now it ruined another one of your plans because things could never go your way, now, could they?

“I’m so sorry, Hyun.” You sigh, playing around with the food on your plate, absolutely dejected.

Hyunjin shakes his head and tries to hide the smile threatening to stretch across his features, freshly dried hair bouncing with his every move. “You’re sorry for what exactly?”

Thunder interrupts before you can even begin, souring your mood further as Hyunjin reaches for your fork, twirls it around expertly and brings it to your mouth to eat before it gets cold. You’ve worked hard on this pasta, letting it go to waste would be a shame.

“The rain.” You mumble before chewing, pouting. He waits patiently for you to finish before leaning over the table to wipe some sauce that has somehow landed on your chin.

“You can’t control the weather, baby.” He smiles, fondness spilling from his eyes as he watches you reach for your drink. Your apartment was no longer bright, engulfed in this darkness that would fool anyone into believing night was about to set at any moment. Fortunately, you managed to prepare everything before the power went out so at least your lunch date wasn’t completely ruined.

To set the mood and try to lift your spirits, Hyunjin has lit a lone candle between you on the table – a romantic till the end, you’re convinced your boyfriend would shrivel up and die if he couldn’t spoil you somehow.

“Well, I want to control it all to make you happy!” The statement is a bit childish but not far from the truth. For Hyunjin, you would do anything to see that beautiful smile of his lighten up every room. Control the weather, move mountains and even give him the moon which he embodied without even realizing. As bright as he was, Hyunjin was the moon in your eyes, illuminating every dark corner of your world with his ethereal glow that left every passerby in awe.

Breathtakingly beautiful, both from the exterior and from within. There was no other person like him in this universe.

This time, he laughs, eyes turning into two crescent moons as if to prove your previous point. “I’m the happiest as long as I’m with you, no matter the weather, time or place. I thought you knew that?”

You’re aware yet your heart still skips a beat, as it always does whenever he opens his mouth and hits you with such a line. Hyunjin wasn’t shy in the slightest when it came to you and the love that was overflowing out of him. All of it was yours, of course. He could never love another in the way he loved you for as long as he lived.

“Doesn’t matter.” You still shake your head, deciding to be stubborn. “It still ruined our plans. I was looking forward to finishing that show together and now we can’t.”

He takes a sip of his wine, the condensation on the glass proof of the warmth in the apartment. “It’s not like we can’t watch it another time, baby.”

“I guess.”

“Don’t pout.” His bigger hand settles on top of yours on the table, bringing it to his plump lips to plant a lingering kiss on the smooth skin. “I came over to see your beautiful smile and talk each other’s ears off. Don’t make me sad.”

Hyunjin makes a face, dramatizing his sadness and you finally laugh, returning to your meal with newfound vigour. He always managed to make even the gloomiest days happier, and you suspected your boyfriend might actually be an angel in disguise, sent from above to watch over you.

“So,” he starts, happiness radiating off of him at the delicious food, his hand still holding onto yours, “did you finish that new book you were telling me about the other day, yet?”

The rain was hitting your windows heavily, creating a curtain of sorts that kept you and Hyunjin separated from the outside world, protected from all evil in your little love bubble that continued to grow with every moment spent together. Excited, with your whole face lighting up, you stand abruptly and make your way over to plop yourself onto his lap without shame, just so you can snuggle while granting his wish. You were about to talk both of his ears off until he begged you to stop. And knowing Hyunjin, he might actually like that.

Time flies as you’re having fun with your other half, while he listens attentively to your every word, so drawn to you and the way your mouth moves that he can barely look away as he remembers to keep feeding you and himself until both of your plates are empty. If it were up to him, Hyunjin would glue your hands together so you’d never have to be more than a foot apart at all times. But reality is cruel, and spending all your time with your beloved was not socially acceptable – for some reason, you couldn’t make money this way. He really hated capitalism for keeping you away from him.

After a while, you both stand to wash the dishes, with him on your trail and being assigned to drying duty.

You’re laughing together as Hyunjin tells you more stories from work, something that happened the other day at the company, not leaving anything out. He was so honest and open about his feelings that nothing he said surprised you anymore.

Your back is to him as you wash the last glass when you feel strong arms pulling you to a sturdy chest, wrapping around your middle to ground the man as he leans over to hug you with all his might. You smile, genuinely, and rest your head on his shoulder just to plant multiple kisses on his cheek. He giggles, and you quickly shake the water and bubbles off your hands to turn around in his embrace and face him.

“Hi.” You smile, briefly kissing his nose. Thanks to the smaller windows, the kitchen was even darker than your dining room, creating a cosier, more intimate atmosphere one could only dream of basking in. Romantic with a pinch of tension neither could shake off - the pleasant kind.

The rain showed no sign of stopping any time soon so for the time being, you were the only two people in the world.

“Your smile is my favorite.” He’s staring deeply into your eyes, strong hands following the outline of your body downwards to rest on your hips and bring you closer, wanting to make you one. The butterflies start going crazy, flapping their colorful wings against your ribcage in a desperate attempt at being let out, longing to be touched by him just like you were.

Your arms come around his neck, and you’re nose to nose now. “You’re my favorite.”

Hyunjin breaks into a grin, one he can’t contain before closing his eyes and burying his face in the crock of your neck, hugging you close.

“You know what I really want right now?” His voice is low, the vibration against your skin sending a shiver down your spine as his hold on you tightens.

You shake your head, one of your hands moving to tangle into his hair and massage his scalp. “Tell me, so I can make it happen.”

He chuckles, thumbs drawing random shapes on your sides you could make out if concentrating on anything else other than his voice was possible. “You don’t even know what I want to ask for yet.”

“It doesn’t matter.” You respond a little too quickly, tenderly coaxing his head out of hiding just so you could see his eyes again and marvel at their beauty. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“Anything?” Hyunjin leans closer, trapping your body between him and the sink as he towers over you, few strands of his hair tickling your forehead. Your breath catches in your throat and you try shallowing, anything to get rid of this sudden lump that’s preventing the oxygen from reaching your brain.

When you nod, his eyes soften, warm hand sneaking beneath your shirt to feel skin, needing this contact to remind himself you are real and the possibility of you disappearing right before his very eyes were slim.

Then, without waiting for his next line, your hand grasps at his fluffy sweater and yanks him forward to connect your lips in a sweet kiss, one that has you both releasing a relieved breath, that acts like the lifeline you need to cling to, to survive.

His lips are soft and warm, and you can faintly taste the wine he indulged in, lingering on his skin. The hand that isn’t under your shirt finds solace at the back of your neck, gingerly deepening the kiss as thunder strikes once again. Not like you care anymore; not when he’s kissing you like he’s trying to burn to memory every nook and cranny of your physical existence.

Heads tilted, his tongue sneaks in to greet yours for the briefest moment before Hyunjin pulls away with great difficulty, chest heaving as he struggles to regain his composure.

“A blanket fort.” He almost croaks out, voice raspy and heart very much disappointed when he tears himself away from you to make some room.

You blink, confused and a little dazed, hands darting to latch themselves onto his sweatshirt so he won’t go too far. “What?”

With a laugh, he throws his head back for a moment, calming down before clarifying. “I want to build a blanket fort. Since the power isn’t back yet, I thought we could have some fun doing that.”

You’re bamboozled, almost spinning around in search of the hidden camera that will confirm this is all a prank.

“But I thought…” You trail off, arms falling to your sides as you look down in embarrassment.

Hyunjin is quick to raise your head, with a finger under your chin and another dazzling smile. “Didn’t you just say you’d do anything for me?”

What a fucking tease. How were you ever supposed to say no to that smile?

[aquaticmercy]

Full Throttle

Summary : Bucky thinks he hooked up with a really pretty mechanic. 

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x motorcycle racer!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : cursing. Sex is implied. Bucky on a motorcycle. Purely self-indulgent fic.

Word count : 3.9k

Note : reader is a MotoGP rider! I’m still reeling from the championship battle last week that I just needed to write this. Also I apologise for everyone who wasn’t tagged in waste a moment! I lost half my notes and I’ve been trying to recover it. Hopefully it’ll be resolved by tomorrow. Enjoy!

Bucky Barnes wasn’t just drawn to motorcycles because they were fast or dangerous— at least not entirely. 

He loved them because of the freedom they gave him, the sense of control when everything else in his life felt it had spiralled into oblivion. Riding demanded focus and precision—all the things he’d spent the last couple of years training. 

When he was on his bike, the world faded away. There was only the hum of the engine, the wind in his hair, and the open road.

And sure, being on the road was fun, but sometimes, all he wanted was a challenge.

That’s when he found the dirt track in the edge of town— a place where he could train for missions that called for high-speed chases— a place he could lose himself for a while. 

It was something fun to do once in a while, you know? Sam would call this a hobby.

The roar of engines and the earthy tang of kicked-up dirt felt like home. In a way, it was strangely meditative. It reminded him of what it felt like to be human— to push himself to the limit, to make mistakes and learn.

Every Tuesday, after training, he came to the track. 

And every Tuesday, so did you.

The first time he saw you, Bucky had to do a double take. You were standing by your bike, helmet tucked under one arm, dirt streaked across your padded leather jacket.

Bucky was no stranger to beautiful people, but there was something about you that struck him differently— maybe it was the confidence in the way you carried yourself or the fire in your eyes when you looked his way. Either way, he was floored.

At first, he figured you were just another skilled rider trying to forget the world. That it was just a hobby, like it was to him. But as the weeks went on, you realised this was your life. 

It must be.

The way you rode was… incredible. Every turn was sharp, calculated. Precise. 

And despite your obvious talent, you never made a big deal about it. Just like you never made a big deal out of the fact that he was the fucking Winter Soldier. 

Of course, you knew who he was—he’d caught the occasional glint of recognition in your eyes. But you never brought it up, never asked for autographs or photos. Instead, you treated him like just another guy at the track.

That didn’t mean you didn’t flirt, though.

Every now and then, you’d throw him a cheeky grin. You’d playfully tell him things like, “Nice lap, soldier,” and Bucky would just blush (which you found adorable, of course).

He would always try to laugh it off, but the truth was, your teasing left his heart racing faster than his bike ever could.

—

Bucky had been working up the nerve for weeks, and today, he thought he would finally bite the bullet. 

Today he was going to ask you out. 

You were wiping the sweat from your brow when he leaned casually against his bike, trying to look more confident than he felt.

“You’re always here on a Tuesday,” he said, before mentally groaning at himself

What the fuck was that? He thought. Is Always here on a Tuesday really the best flirty opening line he had? It was not even an open-ended question. It was just an observation. Nice one, Barnes.

But instead of brushing him off, you paused, setting your gloves down with an amused spark lighting up in your eyes. “Could say the same for you, Barnes.” You tilted your head and gave a casual shrug, acting as if having a stunning super soldier gawking over you wasn’t flattering. “You stalking me?”

The corner of his lips curved upward, the nervous tension melting away ever so slightly. “Maybe I just like the view.”

That earned him a smirk. You let your eyes descend over him—his dark hair falling in perfect disarray, his shirt clinging to his chest under his jacket. “Sure,” you teased. 

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’ve got a good reason to show up.”

“Oh?” you asked, stepping closer, tossing your helmet onto your bike seat with a little dramatic flair. “Don’t tell me the Winter Soldier needs more practice catching bad guys on a bike. Thought you had that down.”

“Yeah, well,” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on you. “Never hurts to train. Especially when there’s someone like you around to keep me humble.”

“Humble?” You quirked an eyebrow, folding your arms as you leaned a hip against the leather seat of the bike. “Looked pretty cocky last week, pulling that stunt to take down the bad guy.”

He blinked, genuinely surprised. “You saw that?”

It had been a theft— some guy thought he could steal experimental weapons from an old Stark warehouse and get away with it. Not his cleanest chase, but he did the job.

“Please, it was all over the news. Did you not see the four helicopters following the chase?” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. “I gotta say, you’re not bad, Barnes.”

“Not bad?” he echoed, feigning offence.

You leaned in just a little, dropping your voice. “I’ve seen smoother turns. If you want pointers, I could teach you a thing or two.”

His lips parted, but no words came out for a moment as he processed how close you were. “You offering lessons now?”

You laughed before gesturing at his bike. 

This was his dirt bike, a recreational bike— not the one he used for the chase last week. Still, it could use a bit of… fine tuning. 

“Tell you what, soldier,” you said, “Fix that lag in your throttle response first. Then I’ll teach you a thing or two about taking corners.”

Bucky tilted his head, narrowing his eyes “There’s nothing wrong with my throttle response.”

“Oh, honey,” you purred, stepping just close enough for your shoulder to brush his. “I could hear it lagging from halfway across the track.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. 

“You saying I need a tune-up?”

“I’m saying,” you said, your voice like velvet, “that if you wanna keep up, you’re gonna need a better setup.”

He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. He still didn’t have the guts to ask you out that day, but he walked away with hope, that maybe, this could grow into something more.

—

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve been walking around with that goofy smile lately?” Sam asked, leaning back in his chair with a knowing look.

“What smile?” Bucky muttered, immediately defensive.

“The one you think nobody notices,” he shrugged. “Spill it, Buck. What’s her name?”

Bucky hesitated, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t planned to tell anyone about his little crush. least of all Sam, but the look on his friend’s face said he wasn’t getting out of this conversation.

“Fine,” he said, exhaling. “There’s this girl.”

Sam grinned. 

“She goes to the dirt track I go to every Tuesday,” Bucky said, staring at the bottle in his hands like it held the secret to not sounding like a lovesick idiot as he told him all about you. 

—

From then on, Tuesdays became his favourite day of the week.

Bucky found himself counting down the hours until he could see you again, his mind replaying every smile, every laugh, every teasing touch.

You became bolder, not afraid of calling him handsome, of touching his arm even if it wasn’t necessary. 

And damn it if didn’t make his heart race.

One evening, after a particularly thrilling session on the track, Bucky decided he’d had enough of dancing around what he wanted. 

Leaning casually against his handlebars, he called out, “Race me.”

You looked up, one eyebrow raising in surprise. “What’s in it for me?” you asked, folding your arms and tilting your head in that way that always made his stomach flip.

“If you win,” he started, “you get bragging rights for a week.”

“A week, huh?” You repeated dramatically, “and if you win?”

Bucky’s lips curled into a slow grin, trying to appear confident even though his heart was pounding in his chest. “I get your number.”

Your giggle rang out, bright and sweet, and for a second, Bucky forgot how to breathe. “You got yourself a deal, soldier,” you said, shaking your head. 

—

The two of you lined up at the start of the track, engines growling. 

Bucky’s focus sharpened—he wasn’t just racing for pride; he was racing for the chance to finally take a step toward something he had wanted for months now. 

When the signal came, you both shot off like bullets, dirt kicking up in clouds behind your tires. Bucky pushed his bike to the limit, leaning into every corner, his muscles strained with effort, grappling the dirt bike for control. But no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were holding back. 

You were supposed to be faster, more precise than this sloppy performance you were giving. He’d seen you before. What happened?

As you neared the final stretch, you slowed, just enough for him to surge ahead and cross the finish line first. 

He skidded to a stop, panting and exhilarated, but the smug grin on your face told him everything he needed to know.

When you walked over later and handed him a scrap of paper with your number scrawled on it, you leaned in close enough for him to catch the faint scent of sweat and motor oil. “You won it fair and square,” you said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his lips twitching with a grin he couldn’t suppress. “You let me win.”

“How dare you accuse me of such a thing,” you feigned innocence, but couldn’t help the grin widening on your face.

He tucked the paper into his pocket, shaking his head.

As you put on your helmet back on, you casually remarked, “Throttle’s still lagging, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Bucky groaned, pretending to be annoyed. Secretly, he was thrilled to keep the conversation going. “I think it’s the fuel filter, but I haven’t had time to swap it out.”

“I’ve got one at my place,” you told him, turning on your engine, “Why don’t you come by?”

His head snapped up, surprised at the offer. “Now?”

“Why not?” 

—

When arrived at your place, he had braced himself for something simple—a cosy apartment, maybe a small cluttered corner dedicated to your bike tools. 

What he hadn’t expected was this.

Standing in the doorway, he blinked at the modern yet homey design laid out before him. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the space in golden evening light, reflecting off polished floors and expensive-looking furniture. The view of the city stretched out like a postcard behind you as you stood, arms crossed, watching him with a hint of amusement.

“This… is your apartment?” he asked, taking a step inside. His greasy leather jacket suddenly felt so out of place. His gaze darted over to a marble countertop in the kitchen, a plush couch, and then the walls— lined with the kind of art he’s only seen in high society auctions.

You tilted your head, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not what you expected, Barnes?”

He huffed a soft laugh. “Not really…”

“Ah,” you replied, moving toward a door off the main living area. “So just because I work with bikes, I can’t have nice things?”

“I didn’t say that,” he countered quickly, following you.

You threw a sly glance over your shoulder. “Didn’t have to.”

He tried to think of a witty response, but he was distracted by the thought of you—the way you moved, confident and unbothered, like you belonged in every room you entered.

You led him to a heavy door and pushed it open, revealing a contrast to the rest of the apartment— your workshop.

The workshop smelled like oil, grease, and faintly of rubber, the air swirling with the comforting scent of metal and machinery. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly organised tools, spare parts, and bottles of lubricants. A stripped-down high-performance bike stood at the centre of the room, its engine exposed, wires and cables hanging loose. 

Now this room, he thought, was undoubtedly you.

“This is more like it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a faint smile.

“See?” You smirked, moving to grab the replacement part he needed. “I’m not as fancy as you think.”

After pulling his bike through the back, he leaned against the wall, watching as you crouch next to his bike and get to work. 

For a moment, he was quiet.

He watched in silence— the way your hands moved with precision, the way you were entirely in your element. 

“So,” you began, glancing up at him. “What’s the Winter Soldier doing on a dirt track every Tuesday, anyway? Don’t you have, I don’t know, a world to save?”

He chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “The world can wait.”

You laughed softly, returning your focus to the filter. 

“I get it, kind of,” you replied, loosening a bolt. “Wanting to get away from everything.”

From then on, the conversation came effortlessly. 

At first, he kept it light, sticking to anecdotes about the track or the occasional joke about his less-than-smooth bike handling in the beginning. But there was something about the way you listened—your easy, genuine curiosity—that made him feel safe, like he didn’t have to keep everything locked away anymore.

At one point, he couldn’t help but ask how someone who worked with bikes could afford a place like this. You only shrugged with a smile, giving the same answer you always did: “I got lucky.” He didn’t press, though he was curious—the ease in which you sidestepped the question intrigued him.

Before long, the conversation drifted again. He found himself sharing more than he ever thought he would. He told you about his missions, the chaos of his Winter Soldier days, the things he’d done and the memories he was still piecing together. 

And you listened—not with pity, but with an understanding that felt rare, even among the people he called friends.

“You’re good at this,” he finally said. 

“Bikes?”

“People,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Well, bikes are like people,” You tilted your head, studying him with a small, curious smile. “Both require care, attention, and understanding to perform at their best.”

When you finally finished, you stood, wiping your hands on a cloth. “All set,” you said, gesturing toward his bike. 

“Thank you.” he said, though he made no move to leave. Instead, he lingered, his eyes on you as you leaned back against the counter.

“So,” you said, breaking the thick silence, your voice dipping into something almost playful. “You gonna stick around, or do you have somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere important,” he admitted quietly.

He took a step closer, then another.

The space separating you seemed to dissolve, his eyes locked on yours, pulling you in like gravity.

“Careful,” you murmured, teasing. “I might think you’re stalling just to spend more time with me.”

His lips curved into a faint, almost shy smile. “And if I am?”

The words hit you like a shot of adrenaline, your heart beating out of your chest. There was no humour in his tone, no hint of the usual back-and-forth banter that had defined so many of your conversations. Just desire staring back at you.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely audible. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He was close now, so close you could feel the heat rolling off him, his metal hand brushing against the counter as he leaned in.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured, his voice rough, a low growl in his throat. He cupped your jawline, mustering all the courage she could possibly gather. 

You didn’t.

Instead, your lips parted in anticipation as he leaned in. Unable to bear it any longer, you tilted your head up, meeting him halfway.

The first press of his lips against yours was gentle, and the second was anything but. The restraint shattered immediately, giving way to something feral. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you closer, his lips moving with a hunger that’s been brewing since he first saw you on the track.

Your hands found his chest, sliding up to his shoulders, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. You tugged him closer, your chest pressing against his. He let out a low moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

When you finally broke apart for air, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mixing in the narrow space between you. His voice was husky, as if he was still recovering. “I should really take you out on a date first.”

You let out a shaky laugh, your hands still fisted in his shirt. “You can still do that.”

His lips brushed yours again. “Aren’t you trouble?”

“You love it,” you whispered, grinning wickedly as you pulled him back in.

The next kiss was hotter, hungrier—  it consumed you both. His hands slid to your waist, gripping you firmly as he backed you out of the workshop and into the apartment. 

Your movements were uncoordinated, messy, your lips never leaving his as you stumbled against walls, furniture, and whatever else got in the way.

By the time you reached the bedroom, nothing else mattered.

—

Bucky woke to the soft light peeking through your curtains.

The scent of coffee reached him first. When he stumbled out of your bedroom, he spotted you at the marble kitchen counter, leaning on your elbows with a steaming mug in hand. You were dressed in one of your oversized shirts— and looked far too innocent for all the filthy things you did to him last night.

“Mornin’ doll,” he greeted  as he sat across from you.

“Morning,” you chuckled at his adorable tousled hair. 

“So…” he started, his voice thick with sleep, “about that date…”

You smirked, setting your mug down and sauntered around the island kitchen. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“Sunday?” he offered, watching you with a lazy smile as you perched on the stool next to his.

You shook your head, “I work weekends.”

That caught him off guard, but he didn’t let it show. “Remind me what exactly it is you do?”

“Bikes,” you said simply, the corner of your mouth twitching like you were holding back sensitive information.

He chuckled, assuming you were talking about your mechanic work. “Fair.”

You hummed, but the mischievous glint in your eyes didn’t escape him.

He tilted his head, curiosity tugging at the edge of his thoughts, but he decided not to push. You’d tell him when you wanted to. Instead, he flashed a small grin. “I’ll text you to arrange something, then.”

“You better,” you teased, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You won my number, Barnes. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. 

The challenge in your tone made his smirk widen, his hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer. “Oh, I won’t.”

—

That Sunday, Bucky was slouched on Sam’s couch, one leg kicked over the side of the coffee table, a book resting on his chest. Sam, on the other hand, was waging war with the TV remote, flipping through channels at record speeds.

“Just pick something already,” Bucky grumbled without looking up.

Sam rolled his eyes, ignoring him. 

“Oh, MotoGP’s on,” he said suddenly, tossing the remote aside.

Bucky didn’t even glance at the screen at first, the low growl of engines and the commentator’s frantic observation was little more than background noise. But something about the sheer speed on display tugged at his attention. He finally looked up— and when he did, he could not take his eyes off the screen.

The camera focused on a Ducati weaving through the pack with a relentlessness that looked… familiar. The rider’s movements were fluid, each turn carved with precision, every overtake risky but calculated.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered, leaning forward. Sam wasn’t the biggest fan— but he did watch these races from time to time. It always intrigued him, the danger they willingly took to win a race. “Look at—did you see that overtake?”

Bucky didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the rider. There was something about them—the way they leaned into each corner, never hesitating, always pushing for the absolute edge of human limitation.

The commentator’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“And there it is! The factory Ducati taking the lead with that beautiful overtake from the inside line! Unbelievable control!”

The Ducati was now in front, pulling away from the others as the final lap approached. 

Bucky watched, as they flew through a sweeping right turn, knees and shoulders skimming the asphalt like it was second nature.

As the Ducati roared down toward the finish line, the chequered flag waved. 

First place.

The crowd erupted, but Bucky barely heard it. The rider slowed, their gloved fist pumping the air, before coming to a stop after the cooldown lap. 

The other riders were congratulating them, patting their helmet with friendly taps.

Soon, the camera zoomed in, capturing the moment they pulled off their helmet.

And Bucky’s stomach dropped.

It was you.

No helmet, no visor—just you, smiling that confident smile that he knew so well.

Oh. He was stupid. Bucky Barnes was so incredibly stupid.

Of course you were a motorcycle racer. The sleek apartment, the effortless style, the way you moved on the dirt track. The way you told him you worked on weekends— it all made perfect sense.

And yet, somehow, he'd convinced himself you were a mechanic. Of course he did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, bolting upright.

Sam shot him a confused look. “What?”

“That’s her,” Bucky said, his voice low in disbelief.

“Who’s ‘her’?”

“The mechanic,” he said, gesturing at the TV, as you celebrated with your team of race engineers. “The girl I told you about. That’s her.”

Sam blinked, staring at the screen, then back at Bucky. “Wait—you’re telling me she fixed up your fuel filter?”

Bucky didn’t answer, still staring at the screen. You were heading toward the press now, handing your helmet to a crew member as reporters swarmed you.

The camera cut for a post-race interview. You looked exhilarated, but still composed as you answered questions about your strategy— about the win. 

Then the interviewer threw in a curveball:

“You’ve been on a hot streak lately. Is there anyone you want to dedicate this victory to?”

You hesitated just long enough for a sly grin to tug at your lips. Then, you looked directly into the camera.

“This win’s for a super soldier,” you said, your tone as playful as ever. You made a phone gesture with your fingers and winked. “Call me, Barnes.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped.

Sam burst out laughing, but in no less shock. “I cannot believe you hooked up with her! Bucky, You lucky son of a—“

But Bucky wasn’t listening anymore.

He couldn’t believe it. Of course he could keep up— you were literally leagues ahead of him.

And somehow, you were still into him. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Sam said, nudging him hard enough to make him wince. “You gonna call her or not?”

Bucky didn’t answer, already scrambling for his phone. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked it, a smile already tugging at his lips.

He wasn’t sure what he was gonna say when you picked up, but he knew one thing for certain: Tuesdays just got a whole lot more interesting.

-end.

[goblinhoursinsomniaramblings]

a tip to everyone with executive dysfunction!

you aren't going to do shit without someone telling you to and asking for that is gonna risk people telling you about your own dysfunction

so find a system to tell yourself what to do! not just in your own head! open a text document and write it to yourself, send yourself a clip of yourself saying it, do SOMETHING the intrusive thoughts or lack of thoughts can't catch en route

don't know what to do? like it's grocery time and you don't remember what you need to get? inventory so you know! something broken? look up what's wrong because almost certainly someone else has dealt with it, get the exact words so you don't feel like you're wasting someone's time calling for repairs!

are you a creative? are you doomscrolling right now? DO IT PRODUCTIVELY AT LEAST. find a tag that sparks joy and is related to a project you're doing and scroll that until you get ideas you wanna play with! none of them have to make it into the final project, just find something to play with!

if you're reading this, it takes zero effort to ask a question and almost zero effort to find an answer, but it's up to you to figure out what you need to know to do what you want to do next, and it's okay to be wrong about what you need to do because you will get answers from that too

don't know who needs to see this, but i hope you do see it

it's the start of the week, there's still time!

[zara-renata]

Would you love me if I were a worm?

Sylus x gn reader | A stupid, short drabble that got stuck in my head while peeling potatoes yesterday, no warnings

“Sylus, would you love me if I were a worm?”

Sylus doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading, sprawled on one of the leather couches in his library, the full red moon spilling through the windows and blanketing him in a softly sinister light. “Yes.”

You lift your head and scowl at him from your position stretched out along his long body, hands folded under your chin, resting on his firm stomach.

“You’re not taking the question seriously.”

He lifts a dark silver eyebrow, eyes still not lifting from his book, the gold-rimmed reading glasses he’s wearing glinting in the warm light from the Tiffany lamp next to the couch. “And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“If you had actually properly considered it, you would have taken a little more time to answer.”

He finally deigns to look at you over the rims of his glasses. “I gave it the exact amount of attention that such a question deserves.”

“Why doesn’t it deserve more attention? I want to know your answer.”

“And I gave you my answer.” He returns to his book. It’s some pretentious title, about the sociology of ingroups and outgroups, the banality of evil.

“How can I take your answer seriously if you don’t think about it properly?”

He sighs. Looks over his glasses at you again. “You’ve been spending too much time with the twins.”

You sit up, leaning against the armrest of the couch opposite of Sylus. He frowns as you move away. “I don’t think I spend enough time with them, actually. They’re hilarious.”

His frown deepens. “I’m hilarious.”

“No, you’re a pretentious edgelord who won’t properly consider my question.”

“You speak so sweetly to the twins. Where’s that honey when you speak to me?”

“Honeypot’s empty until you tell me why you’d love me if I were a worm.” You prod his thigh with your bare foot.

He sighs again, sets the book on the side table. He takes your foot in his hands and begins to rub it, thumbs gently pressing into your arch. You suppress a moan.

“I’d love you if you were a worm because even as a worm, you are still you. I’d love you in any universe, in any world, in any timeline, in any form.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Now I feel bad about being mean to you.”

“As you should,” he gloats. “How will you make it up to me?”

“No, no. I’m not done.” He continues to caress your foot, one hand drifting up to your ankle, circling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You may love me as a worm, but what would you do with me? And would you seek out company in other people, since I couldn’t provide it to you as a little wiggly worm?”

“I would construct the most extravagant terrarium with all of the most luxurious provisions that a little worm’s heart could desire.” He pauses. “I’d also have to construct some sort of grate to protect you from Mephisto.”

You shudder, thinking about what it would be like to be a worm facing down Mephisto’s ruby stare. “I’d probably just be happy in some dirt,” you say, giving him your other foot. He takes the hint and begins to rub it too.

“Tch. My worm deserves only the finest in compost and enrichment activities in their terrarium. I wouldn’t be happy with just giving you some dirt.”

“Of course, and we must keep his royal snobness happy.”

“See? This is why I love you,” he smiles, just a little. “Even though your tongue is so sharp with me.”

“You’re avoiding the question about seeking other company,” you say, sinking lower into the couch as you enjoy the foot massage.

“What’s the point in answering what is clearly a trick question? You will not be turned into a worm. This whole discussion is a waste of time we could spend doing more interesting things.” He gives you an exaggeratedly lascivious once-over.

“I could be turned into a worm! Modified protocores have resulted in weirder shit happening!”

Sylus sighs yet again in resignation.

“I would miss your human company terribly, but there’s no replacing you,” he says smoothly.

You scowl at him again. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Darling, I was fine with my own company until you came into my life. I was fine with my own hand until you came into my life. I’d miss your company, and your sharp tongue, and your blow—”

You jerk one of your feet out of his hands and prod him in his stupid sexy abs. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” he says, sliding out from under you, dropping to his knees on the plush rug in front of you. He lifts one of your legs over his broad shoulder. “I think a demonstration is in order, of all the things I’ll miss that are irreplaceable, should the unthinkable happen and your lovely human form is reduced to that of a worm. I’ll start.” He lifts your other leg over his shoulder and looks up at you smugly.

You look down at him, heart so full with how much you love him that it hurts. “Promise you’re not lying?”

“When have I ever lied to you, beloved?”

You tilt your head. You think he really would love you if you were a worm.

“I’d love you if you were a worm too, Sy.”

“Oh good, I can stop losing sleep at night,” he says, voice dripping sarcasm. You punish him by tightening your thighs, squishing his handsome face between your knees.

He laughs a little breathlessly. “If you’re trying to encourage me, it’s working, kitten.”

You laugh and release him. “Deviant,” you say affectionately.

“Your deviant,” he says, leaning forward, big palms gliding up your thighs. “Whether you’re a human or a worm, that won’t change.”

[ellecdc]

Hey! Congrats on 5k elle!! <3

Can I ask a baby it's cold outside with the prompt "did you really put a blanket over me while i was sleeping." with Regulus? Maybe he fell asleep talking with Reader and she put the blanket so he isn't cold?

— 🎵

thank you love! also, for some reason this became an academic rivals fic, but it felt right for our Reggie! hahaha thanks for the prompt <3

Regulus Black x fem!reader who did not stupefy him [539 words]

CW: could be considered gn!reader - the only gendered marker for reader is the term 'witch', rivals, haters to....?, open ended, banter and fluff

Regulus woke with a start, which wasn’t unusual. 

What was unusual was that he woke up in the library, or, rather, that he fell asleep in the library. Perhaps even more unusual was the throw blanket carefully draped over his shoulders. 

“Merlin, you’re wound tight; who wakes up like that?” Your voice sounded from somewhere to his right; Regulus was sitting up board straight already, and he had no time to be concerned with whether or not he had crease lines criss crossing on the side of his face that had been resting on his jumper clad arm, nor whether his curls had taken on a mind of their own when he turned his attention to you. 

“What did you do?” Regulus hissed. Your eyebrows furrowed near comically where they were pointed down at your textbook before your curious eyes moved up to consider him.

“Are you quite alright, Black?” 

“You…you stupefied me or something. I’m sure of it.” He insisted as primly as he could muster, only having to pause once to clear the sound of sleep from his voice. 

“I did not stupefy you, you git.” You hissed right back. 

He realised then that it was a little peculiar; the two of you had the entire library to yourselves, seeing as most students went home for the the holidays, and those who remained at the school over the holidays didn’t exactly spend their time haunting the library of all places, yet the two of you were somehow sitting at the same group of tables.

Peculiar, still, because the two of you didn’t much care for each other.

It’s not that Regulus particularly disliked you or what not, but rather that you were an annoying pain in his arse and constantly trying to best him in your shared classes.

He had hoped to get a chance to get ahead of his course work over the break - put a little space between the two of you in terms of grades - but it appeared that you had shared the same idea. 

Meddlesome witch. 

“Then you must have put a sleeping potion in my tea.” He deduced as he vanished what remained in his cup with a flippant flick of his wrist. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re impossible. Why would I have done that?”

“You’re trying to best me in classes.”

You let out a rather inelegant snort as the corner of your lips turned upwards into a smirk. “I don’t have to try to best you, Black, I am the best.”

Regulus let out a derisive laugh. “Right, so, what? You just put a blanket over my shoulders out of the kindness of your heart?”

If Regulus wasn’t mistaken, he thought perhaps he noticed a look of bashfulness cross your features as you started to pack up your things. 

“You were shaking like a jar of billywigs, Black; it was impossible to get any work done with the thunk, thunk, thunking of your chair legs. Besides, it’s not like I was going to waste my magic casting a warming charm over you.” 

And, if Regulus wasn’t mistaken, he thought he felt the telltale tingling of a warming charm fading as the door to the library closed behind you. 

How peculiar.