#still skeptical but it's looking less and less

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for Drakel behind the cut; "a pocketful of Kons". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Bruce turns down a side hall and heads for the metal door at the end of it. He still hasn’t said a word since they got here aside from the comment about codenames, and continues in the fine Bat-tradition of not telling them a single friggin’ thing they might need to know as he taps two fingers against the keypad next to the door. It slides open silent and smooth, and Tim tries not to wince as Stud keeps chattering excitedly at Cat and Star and Red while flitting back and forth between Star and Red, Cat still lounging casually in his arms and all three of them seeming entertained by him. 

Tim really, really wishes he understood what the hell was going on there. 

“What the hell,” a baffled-sounding voice says from the other side of the doors, and a Pocket squeaks in surprise. Tim can’t see past Bruce filling up the doorway, but the voice sounded like Green Arrow’s. 

“Bats, please explain why you have a Superman Pocket now,” Green Lantern’s voice says, and Stud startles and looks through the doorway himself, given he’s got a better vantage point than Tim does. “Which literally no one is surprised that you do, for the record, just that it took this long.” 

“They’re not mine,” Bruce replies matter-of-factly as he sweeps through the door, and Tim can finally see past him. The room ahead looks like a meeting room, and it’s mostly dominated by the large circular table in the center of it where Green Arrow, Green Lantern, and the Flash are all sitting with their respective Pockets. “Where’s Wonder Woman? I need to speak with her. The rest of you too.” 

“No idea,” Lantern answers with a matter-of-fact shrug, his Saffie peering curiously at Stud from his shoulder and chittering inquisitively. “She was here this morning, but some friend of hers called and needed her for something in Gateway, so she switched off monitor duty with Hawkwoman and headed back planetside.” 

“I think Canary said something about her calling something in earlier?” Arrow says, scratching at his jaw as he glances towards his Singsong, who’s leaning forward curiously too and making melodic little crooning noises at Stud. “But she didn’t talk to her herself and we were more concerned with digging through the news on that whole bizarre mess in Metropolis, so I don’t actually know what���oh, okay, so you brought up half the belfry today, huh.” 

“Well, only the half of us,” Dick says with a grin, Flash appearing in front of him in an electric rush and the two of them knocking fists lightly in greeting as Flash’s Charger chirps a greeting of her own and peers up assessingly at Stud. Stud jumps like he was startled by the suddenness of Flash’s appearance–which, also weird, Tim thinks, repressing a frown again. Flash can’t have been going that fast outside a combat or crisis situation that Stud’s own superspeed wouldn’t clock him. Though in retrospect . . . 

Does Stud actually have Superman’s powerset? He’s been flying, obviously, and he’s clearly more than strong enough to carry another Pocket around without even noticing their weight, but that’s not actually all that much, in terms of superpowers. Flight and enhanced strength are pretty basic ones, in fact, and Stud hasn’t even shown particularly impressive levels of either. 

Shapeshifting is less basic, but whether Stud has that or not is a whole different question anyway. 

Tim . . . probably should not have assumed that Stud would have Superman’s powerset, come to think. Or definitely should not have assumed Stud would have Superman’s powerset, more like. 

“Is the guy yours, man?” Flash asks skeptically, and Dick snorts. 

“Yeah, no, Red’s still annoyed over Star popping up, don’t think she’d forgive me getting a third Pocket,” he says wryly. “Robin woke up to him about six and a half hours ago.” 

Flash–pauses. Pauses for what is a very noticeable length of time, coming from a speedster. So do Green Arrow and Green Lantern. 

“That is a whole-ass adult man,” Flash says frankly, visibly raising an eyebrow even behind his cowl, and Stud looks briefly conflicted but then just scowls at him. “So, respectfully: what the hell?” 

“Yeah, we’re still figuring that out,” Dick says with a sigh and a shrug. Charger twitters up at Stud, who startles again and then abruptly abandons Cat on his shoulder and zips back behind Tim and–hides, again, for lack of a better word, same as he did when she and Star and Red were sitting down at the table and expecting him to come over and sit with them. Given that Charger is just as pretty as–well, not Star, because Starfire is in a whole league of her own, frankly–but is at least as pretty as Cat and Red, it’s still not a reaction Tim actually understands. 

Though there’s a lot of things about Stud that Tim doesn’t understand so far, obviously. 

[paingoes]

Crash Out - Sabina

hi. this one is pretty dark. heres some backstory on paris’s parents. it’s about forced marriage and offscreen/implied forced pregnancy and rape. nothing sexually explicit is depicted, just implied. heavy overtones of domestic violence as well.

(Content: abduction, lady whump, forced marriage, physical abuse, familial whump, royal whump, intimate whumper, defiant whumpee, domestic violence, starvation, referenced child endangerment, implied noncon, suicide, poisoning, death, unhappy ending)

“Oh shit,” Paris sat up in the passenger seat, pushing the sunglasses up off his eyes. “I’ve been here before.”

The city below glowed in the early morning light, pale and crystalline. The glass spires jutted out from the soft grass. It looked cold, somehow. Twinkling. Lorelai had never seen a town look so fragile. She’d have never thought to describe one that way if she had not seen it herself.

“What?” she asked. “On conquest?”

“No,” he answered huffily, as if this were an unreasonable assumption to make.

“With my mom,” he explained, looking off into the middle distance. “Her family’s from here.”

Lorelai slid out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her. He followed her out, down the smooth stones that made up the pathway into the city center. 

It was a pleasantly cool day, but the architecture made the whole scene feel wintery. She imagined that she was entering into a kingdom of ice. She remembered Thales, how cold it had been on the night of the ball. As she slipped her hand into Paris’s own — the non-dominant, the less injured one — she felt the same chill. It wasn’t all unpleasant. There was a beauty to it.

 All it had to be was a supply run. The imperial currency was standardized, good enough for all the planets in its territory. The further out they got, the more open the locals became to haggling. She leaned forward against the counter of the fruit stand. The vendors liked her. Everyone always liked her.

After a while of staring off into the hillside, Paris propped one arm against the barrel.

“You know where I can find a Selene Lucia?” he asked them.

They were nice enough to draw up a map, the pencil carving a path up into the hills. No exact address, but Paris swore he’d know it when he saw it. By her estimate, if he’d come with his mother, he hadn’t been here since he was seven years old.

The pale buildings petered out on the climb, the houses became sparser, more residential. In time, he really did abandon the map, working purely off the distant memory. 

The trees shaded the sidewalk. She traced her fingers along the black fence that divided the path from the lawns, listening to the pleasant vibration it made in her fingers. The leaf canopy cleared for a split second as they passed another gate.

“This is it,” Paris said abruptly. He stared at it dumbfounded.

“You think she still lives here?” Lorelai asked, frowning.

“Don’t see why not.”

Neither of them moved.

“Are you coming?” he asked. It seemed like he already knew the answer.

“…If you want,” she offered. He shook his head. The one and only time she had met his father, it hadn’t gone well. She didn’t want much to do with his family.

“Call me if you need help,” he said as he pushed the gate open.

“You too.” She nodded, heading back down the hill. The sun was higher in the sky now. The city reflected it straight into her eyes, nearly blinding her.

~

“Oh, god,” Selene Lucia said as soon as she opened the door.

“Hi,” Paris said, pleasantly surprised to even be recognized. 

She pulled him into the house, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Are you being followed?” she asked.

“Uh, no, ma’am. Don’t think so. Not now.” Paris ran one hand through his hair.

“What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. Her face had creased from years of that same, skeptical motion.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “I was in the area. I just wanted to stop by.”

He needed to do laundry, too. He decided not to mention that now.

Selene sighed. There was some relief there, he could tell. Maybe she thought he’d come asking for more. 

He looked around at the house. It was smaller than he remembered, but still nice. Light filtered in through the sheer curtains.

She led him into the violet-colored kitchen, the dark sharpness of him clashing against the scene. She’d been working when he knocked — and this she resumed. He leaned back against the counter, rocking gently against it, watching the knife cut thin lines through the stalks.

“Do you need me to do anything?” he offered. She shook her head. He shrugged, looking back down at the linoleum.

“You’re wanted in five hundred different territories,” she said.

Five hundred sixty one.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking up. For some reason, he hadn’t thought that’d be her first reaction. 

“It’s your father’s fault, you know. Leaving everything in the air like that. It wouldn’t have happened if he-“

“-if he believed he could die?” Paris finished. He’d had the same thought, a million times over.

She made a soft and exasperated sound — and said nothing else.

“You didn’t…call or anything. After he died,” he said tentatively. 

“We had no contact,” Selene said.

“My phone number is public record,” Paris said, not hiding the hurt in his voice. He leaned forward, his arms crossed over his midsection. She didn’t turn to look at him.

“I don’t know why you’d expect that from me,” she said.

“I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I just…I don’t know. It would’ve been nice.”

“Would it?” She asked, turning now.

He frowned. What was he supposed to say to that? He hadn’t even realized he wanted it until he entered the house. It hadn’t occurred to him at all.

“I don’t know why you didn’t,” he said. “You didn’t call me when she died, either. You didn’t reach out at all.”

She seemed to lose her resolve then. She signed, nodding her head in the direction of the kitchen table. He sat down where indicated. The whorls of wood grain stared back up at him. Their shapes had mesmerized him when he was little.

“Is ginger tea fine?” She asked as she lit the last of the stove’s burners.

“Yes, ma’am.” He agreed, though he knew he wouldn’t drink it. He tried not to drink from any open containers — and he watched her hands carefully as she prepared it, wary of pills, wary of poison.

She placed two pale yellow teacups down on the table. Powder blue chinoiserie decorated the edges of the saucers. Steam floated delicately off the golden surface of the water.

“Do you know how your parents met, Paris?”

~

On a morning wet with dewdrops, Selene and Sabina tread happily through the underbrush. The sky was pale and overcast, but the sweaters their mother had knit for them kept them warm and comfortable. Sabina picked at the roses and the sweet briar that bloomed out of the damp earth. Twin blonde braids fell down her back. They were stained with mud at the edges when she’d bent down to touch the grass.

Selene watched the skies with a kind of dormant worry. There was something she was always waiting for, but never really expected. But it had come anyway. It had landed last month.

There was a place the land crested, the point at which the forest gave way to the clear valley. When they were little, they had dragged their sleds out to it on snowy days and laughed as they flew down the hill.

With the easy familiarity of someone who had walked this path since birth, Sabina moved to the top of the ridge. She was startled to find that in the valley below, a large ship was parked. It was more expensive than anything she’d ever laid her eyes on.

All dressed in scarlet against the verdant grass, a man stood tall and impervious. For a split second, his eyes fell on her. And that was all he needed.

~

The Emperor arrived in fine robes, in the middle of town, all his footmen swarming in droves about him. His color was pale, in a way that is supernatural. Not at all sickly. He was in good health. 

In the market, Selene crowded closer to the exit, while all Sabina seemed to want to do was stand her ground. The Emperor fixed his eyes on her, matching her boldness. His hands didn’t shake the way hers did, but the length of her was all resistance.

He liked it.

“Briar Rose,” he said, sing-song, “Was that you in the canyon the other day?”

Unbelievably, his hand moved to trace her braids. She smacked it away, teeth bared, furious.

“Go fuck yourself,” Sabina hissed. 

All she got in return was a chuckle. It was the sound birds made when the bullet missed their heart.

~

The knock came in the middle of the night, with only Selene up to answer it. She peeked through the curtain, and immediately drew far back, down onto the carpet.

“Daddy,” she cried, in a pitch she had not reached since childhood. 

He came instantly and sent her back to her room, far from the thin door that separated their house from nightfall. But her room was right by the entrance. She pressed her ear to the ground to listen.

“Would you accept a dowry?” came the low drawl of the Emperor. “For the youngest. The blonde one.”

“She is my daughter,” Father’s voice came out wrathful in return. “You can take the rest of the world - god knows you already have - but you will not touch her.”

“I would take good care of all of you,” he promised. “I don’t mean to distress her. I think it’d be best if we were all on the same page about this.”

Milky, sick. Selene cried until she couldn’t breathe, then cried more. Sabina slept in the next room, fast asleep, unknowing.

~

Roses. There were thousands of them, clogging up the yard, on each surface of the porch. Roses, roses, roses. The scent was overpowering. It was like something out of a nightmare. When she moved to open the door that morning, Sabina met a stiff resistance. That was thick the petals were stacked.

They came with a note. Father snatched it away before Selene could read, but Sabina had seen it.

She heard her sister crying down the hall. She watched it through a crack in the door.

“I don’t wanna go,” Sabina sobbed, “Mama, I don’t wanna go, please.”

She hid her face in the fabric of their mother’s dress, bent over on the floor, inconsolable. Already flinching away from any touch.

~

“You will come quietly,” the Emperor said, “Or you will come in chains. It makes no difference to me.”

Sabina swung at him as if she could knock his head straight off. It took five men to drag her off in those glistening, golden chains. She was soaked with sweat and tears, an awful slickness, a thrashing.

~

Castle Thales was dark in wintertime — and to her starved body, each room was freezing. Each door had a lock — and she had no keys.

He left her in her own bedroom the first nights. Locked up there, hands bound, until she was ready to *calm down*. He’d thought it would take days. It ended up taking months. It was only when the food stopped that she became handleable.

Sabina glared daggers at him. Her hands shook too much to hold utensils. He thought it was from fear, but it was all just fury. 

She dreamt of killing him nightly.

~

“It won’t be as bad as you think,” Constantine promised her as he lifted the veil. “It does not have to be this hard. You make it this way.”

She glared and glared and glared and flinched as his hand traced her bare arm. She was too pale now. She’d been locked away from the sun for too long. Now her skin was as white as the ripped wedding dress.

“You’re a queen now,” he said, like it comes as an assurance. She wanted nothing more than to beat him until he stopped breathing.

“You could have all you ever dreamed of,” he said. He doesn’t know her at all. Tears formed in her eyes before she could stop them. He moved to wipe them away for her. She bit into his hand as hard as she could and grinned when she drew blood. It was the first time she’d smiled in months.

~

She was slapped violently for that, which surprised her, because up to this point he had seemed so hesitant to hit her in the face. He threatened to yank all her teeth out, replace them with dentures, and take them out whenever he decided she’d lost the privilege. 

This seemed unattractive, which gave her reason to doubt the threat. But she could not call his bluff, so she stopped biting.

One of his men whipped her back until it was bloody. She hated it. She reveled in it. She was making him so mad. 

She cried as the maids worked to cover the bruises, the skin still tender even at the soft touch of the brushes. The crying wet her face. They had to keep restarting.

There was no need to cover up the whip marks. The corset did it all on its own — coarse, scratching, irritating the unhealed skin. The maids undid her long braids. Her hair reached all the way to her waist now. 

She reached out for the scissors on the vanity and cut it all off.

~

He was mad he couldn’t pull her hair anymore. He could bunch it up by her scalp, but it wasn’t the same. His was a cold anger. He probably liked to think of it as controlled. He loved to think of himself as controlled.

“It looks good on you, darling,” Nezu said over dinner, just to piss them both off. Sabina made a gagging sound in the back of her throat. She reached for the unused knife by her right napkin and wields it menacingly. As menacingly as she could manage, which turned out to be a lot.

Nezu looked excited at the prospect of getting stabbed by her. In disgust, she put the knife back down.

“Picked a good one,” he said approvingly, just as soon as the Emperor rejoined them.

~

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!” Sabina held the saber in both hands. It was decorative, plucked straight off the wall, but it still held an edge. It could still kill. She meant to. She really meant to.

“You are unwell,” Constantine said. “You don’t know what’s good for you. You don’t know when to quit.”

She lunged at him. He gasped and darted away. She’d only missed him by an inch. She howled in frustration.

If they’d trained her, she’d have been a brilliant fighter. But they hadn’t. And she wasn’t. She left all of herself exposed for the next lunge — and he downed her.

“I’ll kill you,” she swore, with his hands wrapped tight around her throat. “If it’s the last thing I do, I swear, I’ll kill you”

“Sabina,” he cooed sadly. “Rose. All I want is for you to be happy.”

“I want you to fucking die,” she sobbed. 

It was a final hurrah, one last gift to herself. When the sobbing died down, there was nothing else left.

~

The baby came a year later. He’d stopped hitting her while she was pregnant. She did not know if this was temperance, or if it was merely because she’d stopped fighting. They’d both been reluctant to resume the old routine. The baby changed things. It was soft, pliant. So easy to break. Sabina cried when she held it for the first time, cried every day after that. It had kneaded at her chest, half-blind, sleepy. It didn’t know anything.

“Constantine?” She said softly as he swapped out the bandages. The Emperor up in surprise. She so rarely used his name. 

But when he did look, she didn’t know what else to say. The terror must have shown through her. She felt all her body was wretched, torn apart, aching. She couldn’t take anymore.

He seemed to recognize this. He never hit her again.

~

Years passed before she saw her family again. When her son is five years old, she brought him back to that porcelain city, back to her parent’s old house. Both of them dead now, the million wars ravaging even when she cannot see them. She didn’t get to go to the funeral.

She’s stopped crying so much at this point. There’s a dignity to her, one she’s managed to scrape up off the floor of the palace. She was the tough one. She always had been.

She sat up in her sister’s kitchen, drinking ginger tea, manicured nails tapping softly at the porcelain cup. Selene sat across from her, pale, as if she’d seen a ghost.

~

They wrote letters after that. Constantine had agreed to it, perhaps sensing that his wife had no bone for conspiracy left within her. She was locked into it now, more than she ever had been before.

There’s a desperation to her script. God, she was so unhappy. Selene wrote back just as soon as the mail was delivered, sent it out the same day. It was all she could do. It never seemed to amount to much.

Sabina hinted at it. Selene swore she knew the end.

There’s a flower that grows in the garden of Castle Thales. It is indistinguishable from the heritage rose, but a single blossom could kill when ingested.

When they did the autopsy, they found fifteen of them in her stomach.

~

Paris stared back at her from across the table, totally frozen. The teacup sat in front of him cold and untouched.

“She died of sepsis,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word.

Selene looked at him with such pity that he thought he might be sick.

“She died of sepsis,” he repeated, “Slowly. In the hospital. She didn’t commit suicide.”

“Paris,” she said softly, “It took a week, didn’t it? Did you see her before the end?”

He propped one elbow up on the table and hid his face in his hand.

“I was at school,” he muttered. “She was already comatose when I got there. She died the next day.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

And of course she said it now, thirteen years later. She wasn’t there when it happened. Nobody was. There was absolutely nothing.

“You understand, surely,” Selene said, “why I was not so devastated to hear of your father’s death.”

There was still something so haunted in her look. He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the wood whorls. He didn’t even hear her standing up. He flinched at the sudden brush at his hand, gentle as it was. She tilted his face up as if to study him.

“God, you look just like her.”

The doorbell rang. Selene startled.

“I thought you said you were alone.”

“She’s my friend.” He stood up quickly. “She’s the only one.”

He opened the door. Lorelai stood cheerily on the step.

“Look what I got.” She grinned. She held up her hand at his eye level and let the necklace dangle from its chain. At its end, the rose charm shined in the dying light.

~

On an air mattress in the cleared out living room, they laid in a tangle of limbs. Lorelai’s breath was shallow, light, pleasantly exhausted. Paris traced the flesh of her breastbone, intent, almost like he was trying to find something. He had told her the whole story, in hushed tones, in the dark.

“I don’t want to get married,” he said quietly, at the end.

Lorelai laughed under her breath.

“Paris, we were never gonna get married.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…” he trailed off. “l don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

Oh, what a question. He shrugged.

“…I took you away from your family,” he said it hushed, as if it was confessional.

“Is that how you remember it?” She laughed again. “That’s not what it was. I wanted to go. I asked you first.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” he said, finishing the thought. What either of them thought when they first started out hardly mattered anymore. It seemed so far away now.

“Then don’t,” she said.

~

They left before the sun rose, trudging the long way, past all the grave sites.

“I guess it’s weird for me to keep this now,” Lorelai said as she studied the pendant.

“It’s just a necklace,” Paris shrugged. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

But they both knew it would always hold that weight.

The grass was frosty as if it had snowed. There was so much mist in the air. It was cool and refreshing. It was the perfect morning for it. 

They passed by another memorial site. Victims of the war that Empire was waged. An orator could list them all day and never run out of names. Paris paused to watch as Lorelai moved up the knoll and placed the pendant by the base of the stone. Not for Empire. Not for Rose. For Sabina.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @whump-queen

[eugeniedanglars]

society if felisa valdez had been brought back as eddie's love interest instead of marisol

[sojourner-between-worlds]

As cinematically beautiful as the live-action atla looks, the fact that they removed part of Sokka's character arc/growth does not inspire much hope in me that it will actually be good because clearly they do not understand the characters

[monstersflashlight]

Day 1. Monster-kinktober: Marking the territory + Cockring-plugs/Massaging

Werewolf x fem!reader || marking, breeding, cock-ring, dirty talk (low key) || tw: pregnancy talk

When he told you he was about to go into rut, you were worried about babies, neither of you didn’t have an accidental pregnancy but you were both pretty into breeding, especially when he was that close to going feral because of his werewolf hormones. So you called in a few favors and got a witch to enchant a cock-ring. At first you were skeptical, so that’s why he was trying it today as you went to work.

You spent about fifteen minutes that morning massaging his knot until it was fully set in your hand so you could slip the cock-ring on him. It was supposed to keep him in that state for a long time and made it impossible for him to come. He was pretty cocky about it in the morning, as you massaged him, he kept telling you how there was no way that ring could fit around his big knot. How your pussy felt a lot nicer than your hand around his knot. How pretty you would look when it broke and you’d be left full of cum. How pretty you’d be full of his pups before the month ended. (And not gonna lie, that made you a little more than horny).

But you didn’t let him get away with it, massaging his balls until he was shooting his come all over your tits and his face was contorted with pleasure. You slipped the ring on before he could process it, and his cum instantly stopped. You giggled as he gave you the stink eye, trying to catch you but failing as you ran out the room to get dressed. You called over your shoulder and told him to be good for a couple hours...

And that’s why you come home to find him in your bed, rubbing his massive erection against the sheets, unable to come. He looked as pathetic as ever, whimpering and groaning your name, face buried in your pillow. He was so gone in his pleasure that he didn’t even realize you were there until you spoke.

“Hell-” But you didn’t have time to finish the word before he was turning around, eyes bloodshot and fangs bared. He looked feral, and a spike of fear bloomed inside of you. He looked at you for a total of two milliseconds before he was jumping from the bed and into your personal space.

He knocked you off and tore your clothes off in the same movement. You were expecting him to be desperate when you came back, but you weren’t expecting him to be like that, to be so desperate. And then it clicked. He went into heat. He went into heat when you weren’t there and his knot was unable to go down or release. You practically condemned him to werewolf sex-torture, and he had to endure it for two hours. Poor baby.

His claws were out and he was trying to get your panties off, but ended up tearing them, too. “Slow down…” You told him, pulling at his hair and making him bare his fangs at you.

“No,” he growled.

You laughed for a total of half a second before he was pushing his dick inside of you, his knot unable to slip inside because of how big it was. He kept grinding and fucking into you, growling like a madman because he couldn’t come. You shivered and screamed his name. You were on edge all day, wet thinking about him at home, alone and hard… And now you were stuffed full of werewolf dick and you couldn’t even focus on words anymore.

“Mine,” he growled. He started a frantic rhythm, your body moving on the floor as he thrust inside of you.

“Yours. Yours. Yours,” you chanted. He was being so rough and careless, his nails digging into your hips and his fangs so close to your neck that you knew you will end the night with a huge bite-mark there. That would be hard to cover, but at that moment, with his knot pressing against your clit and his dick hitting your G-spot you couldn’t care less.

“I’m going to mark you. I’m going to come so deep inside of you that you will be feeling me for days.” He punctuated each word with a thrust of his dick, his knot still outside your body. You were dripping, but it was not enough… not yet. “I’m going to fill you so much you are going to be full of pups by the end of it,” he continued. You knew that couldn’t be as long as he had the ring on, but the thought made you shiver and let out a big groan.

He kept thrusting until you came once, twice… and by the time your third orgasm was almost sneaking on you, you felt his fangs sink in your neck at the same time you felt something release and his knot slipped inside. You cried out in ecstasy when his knot filled you completely and he started to come in you.

You opened your eyes widely as you felt his release inside, unable to move or do anything apart from groaning at the indescribable pleasure running through your body. It felt better than heaven, and your brain was too fucked out to process whatever just happened when you were so full of hot werewolf knot.

“Did it break?” You asked as your orgasm receded. Your breath was labored as he kept coming inside of you, his knot pressing against your sweet spot. “Did the cock-ring break? I’m going to kill that witch,” you said as you felt the next shoot inside of you. There was so much of it that you could feel it slipping around his knot, making a mess out of you.

“Told you it wouldn’t work,” he gloated with the biggest smirk on his face, kissing your nose.

“Ugh, I hate your inhuman dick,” you grumbled. You wanted to be annoyed, but his dick was pressing against your G-spot and he was being so fucking cute you couldn’t even be mad about it.

“Liar,” he groaned as you felt another shoot of his cum inside of you. That felt so fucking good your eyes rolled back into your head. “You are going to be so full… Everyone is going to know you are mine,” he mumbled half asleep as he kept rocking his hips slowly. You tried to worry, but the pleasure was so great you didn’t care.

He was in heat, and that meant you would be stuffed and fucked for the next three days at least… you would enjoy the ride. Whatever happened would be future you problem.

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

I call this one "Double Kill"

[ID. First panel, Nino sits at his and Adrien's table in school, he's angled to face Adrien, his right arm resting on the back of their bench and his left hand on the table. He's saying "I still can't believe I got Rose with "Ligma"..." with his eyes closed. There's a small amount of text next to his head that reads: "It was funny, but I still feel bad..." indicating he's saying it under his breath. Him saying this gets Adrien's attention.

Second panel, Adrien is facing forward at Nino. His face is set in a worried smile as he asks, "What's "Ligma"? Is it serious?".

Third panel, Wide shot of them at their desk, showing Marinette and Alya at their table as well, looking down at them. Adrien keeps an expression of now confused worry as Nino looks at him with an open mouth. Marinette is looking down at Adrien with both hands over her mouth as her shoulders shake with contained laughter. Alya is also covering her mouth, but her joy is less contained as she smiles. The word "SPEECHLESS" is written above them to help get the surprise the three of them feel across.

Fourth panel, a shot of Adrien alone, facing forward and covering his face in embarrassment as the statement, "Just found out what Ligma is" is pointed to him in a looping arrow.

Fifth panel, a wide shot of Ladybug and Chat Noir sitting on the edge of a building together. Chat Noir is sitting criss cross with his hands resting on his thighs, sitting forward a bit to show that he's listening to Ladybug. Ladybug is much more relaxed, leaning back on her right hand and holding her left hand up casually. She's smiling as she recalls: "And then he fell for Ligma! I feel bad, but I kinda wanna see if he'll also fall for "Candace"..."

Sixth panel, Chat Noir is now crossing his arms, raising an eyebrow, squinting his eyes, and tilting his head. His right cat ear tilts as well, while his left one stays straight. The words: "Skeptical but curious" are pointed at him with a straight arrow. He's saying, "And who's "Candace"?"

Seventh panel, Ladybug is looking at Chat Noir with a shocked expression, her eyebrows raised and her jaw dropped. She's sitting straighter, her hand is still resting on the ledge, but it's no longer supporting her. The same "SPEECHLESS" is floating above her as it was seen in the third panel, to show just how shocked she truly is.

Eighth panel, Chat Noir is sitting with his knees up to his chest as he covers his face with his hands in embarrassment. His ears are flattened and his tail is curled around his ankles. The words "Just found out who Candace is" is pointed at him with a straight arrow. End ID]

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 3.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Years later, you’d still wonder if Topper did it all on purpose. 

When you asked him, he’d just wink and say “bet you’d like to know.” 

As your group walked down the dock towards the rental kiosk, Topper pulled out his phone, grinning down at the screen.

“What’s funny?” Carter tried to read over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he tucked his phone in his pocket quickly, failing to hide the cheeky look in his eyes, zero poker face. “Kelce is coming.”

The guy Carter had haggled with brought your group over to the three jet skis and gave you a demonstration on how to drive them. You weren’t paying very close attention, more focused on the uneven pairing of the five of you and how to ensure you didn’t end up on the same jet ski as Tom. His rudeness this morning was the final nail in the coffin of your crush.

The guy gave Carter three keys, and you met her eyes, knowing she was thinking the same thing. 

Topper looked at Carter hopefully, his big puppy dog eyes watching her with anticipation. You felt for him, the two of you really weren’t all that different. Sure, he’d gotten to hook up with Carter plenty of times, his crush not totally unrequited, but she’d never given him what he really wanted. At the end of the day, you were just two people who were really good at loving people who didn’t love you back. Still, you knew in your heart of hearts that Carter did love him back, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Maybe you would never get your dream, but you could make sure that two people you cared about got theirs, and that might be the only thing that made this all worth it.

You planned it out quick, knowing Carter was seconds from asking you to ride with her so you wouldn’t be with Tom, and also knowing that what she really wanted was an afternoon alone with Topper.

“I told Kelce I’d ride with him,” you blurted out. 

“Did you?” Carter asked skeptically, trying to figure you out.

“Yeah, I think he’s still worried I’m mad at him,” you made up off the top of your head. “Thought I’d throw him a bone.”

Carter watched you the whole time she boarded the back of Topper’s jet ski, telling him to wait up so they didn’t leave you alone. Tom and Sabrina didn’t seem to care about leaving you, speeding off the second they climbed on their jet ski, Sabrina’s over-the-top shrieks echoing through the air.

“That bother you?” Topper asked when he caught you scowling in their direction.

“Actually, I’m thinking they might be made for each other,” you concluded.

“So you’re not, like, into him?” Topper asked hopefully.

“Not anymore. That ship sailed so quick,” you snorted.

“Ah,” he tried to play it cool, “good to know.” 

“Don’t get any fucking ideas,” Carter warned him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He insisted.

“You don’t have to, you have zero poker face,” Carter said. “No Tom does not equal yes Rafe.”

“I’m just saying it’s good to know. Am I not allowed to know things?” 

You rolled your eyes at their bickering, less than surprised they were having this conversation right in front of you.

“Y’know, you guys can just take off, I’ll be fine waiting for Kelce,” you offered, desperate to move this conversation about your love life out to sea and away from you.

“Right, Kelce,” Topper nodded. “Kelce is coming.”

“Why are you being so weird?!” Carter squinted at him.

“I’m not! I just wanna go!” Topper revved the engine of the jet ski.

Carter looked at you one more time, checking that you were okay with this.

“Have fun!” You said to reassure her.

That’s all Topper needed to hear, he hit the throttle and pulled away from the dock as fast as he could. Carter’s laughter filled the air, she grabbed him tight and tucked her chin in the crook of his shoulder as he drove. She was happy, so you were happy. Your whole life, that’s really all it took, and you knew she felt the same way about you.

With that lovely thought, you climbed on the jet ski so you’d be ready to go as soon as Kelce arrived. 

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Rafe held the keys a little too tight, Kelce struggling to pry them from his hands.

“You gotta take it easy on the clutch, she’s sensitive.”

“I know how to drive, man,” Kelce wriggled the keys from his grip as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck.

Rafe stalled by the door for a minute, his feet suddenly feeling very heavy. He looked around the marina, scanning for the group. His heart skipped a beat when he found only you, bobbing in the water on your jet ski all alone.

He’d texted Topper a head’s up that he was coming and asked him to let you know. He didn’t want you to think he was in on Topper’s dumbass scheme to get you two together. If he was gonna do this he was gonna do it right, not try to trick you into it.

Now you were waiting for him, looking so gorgeous with your legs on either side of the seat and your hair blowing gently in the wind. 

Usually, he didn’t call girls beautiful, typically opting for hot, or sometimes pretty if he was drunk. But the only word for you right now, and always, was beautiful.

“You gonna let me leave, man?” Kelce asked, gesturing to Rafe’s hands, still clutching the handle of the door.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rafe pulled away, wiping his hand against his board shorts when he realized it was clammy, the sight of you making him nervous in a way he had never been before.

“What’s got you so worried? Are you scared of her or something?” Kelce mocked him.

Rafe was surprised that Kelce had actually caught on to who he was looking at, giving him an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m not scared of her,” he defended himself.

“Don’t even worry about it man, I bet she’s still wrapped around your finger.”

Rafe shot Kelce a steely warning look he’d given him a thousand times.

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to worry,” Kelce explained. “You’re the man.”

Kelce was an idiot, and he spent a good ninety percent of their friendship pissing Rafe off, but he always tried to hype Rafe up. Usually he was annoyed by it, but right now, he actually needed it.

You used to talk about him that way, too. Oh, the money he would pay for you to see him in a good light again. He’d swim across this entire bay just to hear one kind word about him coming from your lips. 

“Nah, I’m really not,” he shook his head slightly, looking back toward you. “But I think with her I could be.”

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The audacity, the fucking nerve of him to come strolling down the dock looking that good. The sun actually broke through the crowds at his arrival, like he’d bribed the gods. He strolled towards you so casually, his grin easy, like he didn’t know he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life. It pissed you off.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped at him when he reached you.

His grin faltered, like he was the one surprised to see you.

“Didn’t Topper tell you I was coming?” He asked.

“No, of course he didn’t,” you said, finally understanding the reason for Topper’s strangeness earlier.

“I asked him to,” Rafe swore. “I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to-”

“I think I’m just gonna go alone,” you cut him off, turning the key in the engine of the jet ski, desperate to put an ocean between you and him before he said another considerate thing that he’d just undo later. “You can rent your own.”

“No can do,” said the owner, arriving to hand Rafe a lifejacket. “This is our last one. You better take your boyfriend with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation and the misogynistic comment. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled. 

Rafe felt the correction was unnecessary, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood for constructive feedback at the moment.

“Is it cool if I, uh, can I come with you?” He wasn’t walking back down this dock without trying.

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. “But I’m driving.”

“Good with me,” he climbed on quickly before you could change your mind.

With a kick that sent you both lurching forward, the jet ski roared as you tightened your hand on the throttle. Instinctually, Rafe’s hands landed on your side, holding you both in place. You only had a second to feel the pads of his fingers clinging to the soft skin of your waist before he pulled them away.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

The guy on the dock leaned forward to push the jet ski from the dock, redirecting you out toward the bay.

“No, actually you should hold on,” he instructed. “These babies go fast and it’s a little choppy out there today. Take it real easy out of the marina and then you can kick it up when you’re in open water.”

You could feel Rafe’s hands twitch with hesitancy before they rested on your sides again, so lightly you wondered if he was actually touching you at all.

With a push, you drifted out to sea, slowly picking up speed with the turn of the throttle.

“Do you want me to let go?” He asked, leaning in so you could hear him over the roar of the motor.

Somehow, you thought two completely conflicting thoughts at the exact same time:

Yes, now.

and

No, never.

You settled on, “whatever.”

Rafe started to let go, but the jet ski hit the wake of a nearby boat, and you both nearly flew off the seat. His grip tightened protectively, practically pinning your body down. With his strong hands on you so firmly, it felt like you could hit a tidal wave and he’d still have you in his grasp. You needed more of whatever that was.

Your laughter filled the salty air as you purposefully drove you and Rafe over the choppiest patches of the water, hair whipping behind you into his face, and he didn’t even care. He watched you in the side view mirror on the front of the jet ski, memorizing every inch of your smile like he’d never see it again.

“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?” He teased, yelling over the woosh of the wind.

“It’d be a fun way to go!” You yelled back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Rafe’s hands still on your waist, you felt him lean in slightly. Even with two lifejackets between you, the proximity of your bodies was electrifying. You could feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, closing you in everytime you hit a bump, securing you in place. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his instinct, you didn’t know which was hotter.

The water rushed behind you, a foamy wake marking your path as you continued driving as fast as you could. The others must’ve gone a different way out of the marina, because they were nowhere in sight. The sky was darkening slightly, the shift in weather causing most boats to drive the opposite way, back to the docks. But you just kept going, and Rafe didn’t tell you to turn around, both drunk on the adrenaline of the speed and the feeling of each other’s skin.

After a particularly jostling bump, the engine sputtered slightly.

“Fuck, what was that?” You puzzled, turning the throttle harder but gaining no speed.

“Here, you gotta twist it like this,” Rafe’s arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours as he guided you to turn the throttle in the exact way you just were.

“That’s exactly what I was doing,” you bickered. “It’s not working.”

“Maybe I should drive?”

“It’s not my driving, something’s wrong with the jet ski,” you argued, swatting his hands away. 

“Can you just let me try?” He argued back.

“No, you’re making it worse!” 

The engine continued to sputter until it cut completely, causing both your bodies to lunge forward as it came to an abrupt halt.

“Rafe what did you do?” You accused him.

“What did I do? You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” He snapped.

You turned the key in the ignition over and over. The jet ski growled a few times but never started back up. Eventually, you gave up with a frustrated huff.

“I think we’re out of gas,” you conceded.

“Well, did you ask the guy if it was filled before you left?” Rafe questioned.

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” You craned your neck to see him, anger in your eyes.

“No, that’s not-”

“I’m so tired of this, Rafe.”

“We’ve only been out here for like a minute.”

“No, not this,” you motioned toward the water, “this,” you motioned between you and him.

“Oh. Me?” He tried and failed to hide his hurt feelings.

“Not you, just, all this back and forth. One second we’re having a good time and the next you’re pulling away or snapping at me. I have fucking whiplash.”

“Are you sure it’s not just from the jet ski?” He attempted a joke, it only half worked.

“How are we gonna get back?” You redirected the conversation before he could see you were smirking.

“A boat will come by,” he said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”

No boats came by in the following minute, or the following five. You sat in tense silence, your previous words still hanging between you. Your head hurt from the wind and trying to figure this man out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible. “I know I’m…difficult.”

You turned your neck, not quite far enough to see him, but enough to let him know you were listening, that he should go on.

“I don’t know how to act around you,” he admitted. “One second I feel like I’ve fucked it up so bad that there’s not even a point in trying to fix it and the next…”

This time, you do turn, twisting your torso so you could look him intently in the eyes, imploring him to say something right for once, begging him not to let you fall off this cliff alone again.

“…you look at me like that,” he almost whispered. “And then I think fuck it, I’d try forever if you let me.”

For the first time ever, he was with you on the way down, finally jumping together.

“Can I?” He asked, voice low.

“Can you what?” you blinked at him slowly, the moment so surreal you worried it wasn’t happening, that you’d wake up in Carter’s bed, all of this day just one long fever dream.

“Fix things…with you?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the most honest answer you could give him.

“Can I try?” His voice broke slightly when he said it, and you could feel the vulnerability leaking through the cracks.

“Yeah,” you gave in.

“I miss you,” he breathed, and your heart felt heavy with longing and resentment at the same time.

“I don’t think you ever really knew me, Rafe,” you said, turning to face forward again, sad eyes scanning the horizon. “You never paid close enough attention.”

He thought over your words, and you could feel that there was something brewing in his mind, a decision he was making. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t the words you expected.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you said, “huh?”

“Just tell me,” he smiled back, even though you weren’t looking, you could hear it in his voice.

You answered him, and he followed that question up with another, and another, and they kept rolling off his tongue and you kept answering, until the strangeness of it faded and the two of you were just talking.

For over an hour, you drifted, leaning forward on the handlebars with your back to him as Rafe asked you questions and listened intently to your long, detailed answers. You were hesitant, just at first. No one had ever let you talk this long without interrupting you. No one had ever wanted so badly to hear what you had to say. He nodded along to everything, responding with thoughtful mhms and carefully worded follow up questions.

After a while, you forgot about the surrealness of it all, where you were, who you were with. It was just you and your old friend, sharing your lives with each other. 

I could do this for a long time, you thought, like maybe forever.

Everytime you thought he must be bored by now, he just kept asking, hanging on every word like he was collecting them for some secret project.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” and “Who’s your closest friend?” and “Are you still into that one band?” and eventually, when he was running low on ideas, “what’s the last movie you saw?”

You laughed. 

“What?” He asked with a timidness that squeezed your heart.

“The last movie I saw was the last movie you saw,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

“It’s a good movie, though,” you leaned back toward him a little, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing his spirit to fall. “My favorite.”

He nodded, “Tom did a nice job putting together that little shindig.”

“I guess so,” you said, not sure how to proceed.

“You know he plays football for U of F?” He said. “Or did I guess, before he graduated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, he was All American,” he nodded. You’d give all the money you had for one glimpse of what was going on in his head.

“He’s an impressive guy,” he admitted. “I can see why you’d end up in his room.”

“Rafe, oh my god,” you huffed, standing suddenly. Your body rose above him, his eyes tracking every movement. You swung your leg over the seat, flipping around so you were facing him, sitting back down so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I didn’t sleep in Tom’s room.”

“Oh.”

It was all he could muster up, his throat going dry from both the embarrassment he felt for being wrong and the sudden proximity of your bodies. He willed himself not to let his eyes travel down to the way your lifejacket was pushing your chest together, or the soft skin of your bare thighs, now spread open in front of him as you straddled the seat. He kept his eyes on yours, the most respectful option, though it didn’t help his speechlessness. The uninterrupted contact with your beautiful irises nearly put him over the edge. He almost hoped no boats would come by after all so he could look into your eyes for hours.

“Is that why you got up and left last night?” You questioned, not missing the way his eyes were trained intensely on yours.

“The floor was uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“The floor,” you nodded, “the floor was uncomfortable. Got it.”

“You're mad at me again,” he surmised.

“When was I ever not mad at you?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged sarcastically, “somewhere between the movie and your panties hitting the floor.”

You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. He could tell, teasing you with a sideways smirk. You tried to channel the newfound confidence you’d had last night, addicted to the taste of power.

You leaned forward, hands on the leather seat between you, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Did you like that?” 

“You know I did.” 

He responded so fast and his voice was so low you couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or turned on. Either way, he wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“Then why didn’t you stay?” 

It felt like that one question held so many questions, and based on the look on his face, you knew he could hear it too. You weren’t just asking about last night, you weren’t just asking why he went to sleep on the couch. You were asking about years of him coming up short, why he’d failed you so many times, why he never, ever seemed to pick you.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

As he said it, the wind kicked up, and the jet ski began to rock even harder as waves rose and fell beneath you. One particularly choppy wave had you tilting a little too far off the seat, and Rafe’s hands landed on your waist again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. When you didn’t push him away, his thumb brushed an experimental circle into your skin.

“Do you want me to let go?”

In lieu of answering, your hands came to rest over his. He assumed you were gonna pull them off of you, and for a moment you thought you might too, but then his words echoed in your mind: he didn’t know you wanted him to.

You could do this. You could lean into it and just let it happen. You were supposed to fight it, make him grovel more, make him pay you back for the years you’d waited. It’s what everyone expected. You were only a few hundred yards off shore, but the rest of the world felt lightyears away, and out here, there was nothing stopping you letting him touch you, kiss you, have you. You could just let it happen, and no one would have to know.

But before you could decide if you wanted to, a deep rumble of thunder broke out across the sky.

“Shit,” you jumped. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Rafe looked up at the darkening sky nervously.

“But how?” 

“How well can you swim?”

That’s how Rafe ended up in the water, gripping the back of the jet ski as the waves rocked it harshly, water splashing up and landing on your feet. You tightened your lifejacket, feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I can just push us if you want to stay on,” Rafe offered.

“No, it’ll go faster if it’s both of us.”

You stepped to the edge, hesitating, wanting to rip the bandaid and just jump in but not wanting to jump too far off and get separated. Your indecision cost you, your foot slipped and you dropped into the water, your leg scraping against the edge of the jet ski as you fell. 

Blinded by pain, you reached for Rafe as your head slipped under the surface, but your hands came up empty.

(Chapter 6: part one)

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a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[xo100]

Airport - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: Lando Norris offers a woman, who missed her flight, a ride on his private jet to Monaco. They bond over light conversation and flirting, leaving with the possibility of seeing each other again.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1323

୨ৎ

The race weekend had been long, grueling, and filled with adrenaline. Lando Norris was ready to head back to Monaco, to the comfort of his own home where the sound of engines could be swapped for the quiet of the Mediterranean breeze. As he made his way through the airport, sunglasses perched on his nose and his cap pulled low, he weaved his way through the flow of people without drawing too much attention to himself.

It wasn’t until he neared the private terminal that he noticed something out of the ordinary: a young woman standing near the gate of a commercial flight to Monaco, her expression a mix of frustration and panic. Lando slowed his steps, curiosity piqued. She stood there, gazing hopelessly at the closed gate, gripping her passport tightly. Her bags were tossed haphazardly by her feet as though she’d raced through the airport only to fall seconds short of making it to her flight.

The sharpness of disappointment etched on her face was all too familiar. He’d been in similar situations before, dashing through airports, missing flights by mere moments. Only, she didn’t seem to have the luxury of a private jet waiting just down the hall like he did.

Lando hesitated. He didn’t know her story, but something about the way she stood there, looking so defeated, tugged at him. He glanced at his watch. His jet was leaving soon, but he still had time. And, well, maybe this wouldn’t be the worst idea. What was the harm in offering a bit of help?

He pulled his cap down a little further and crossed the distance between them, moving casually as though he were just another traveler making his way to his flight.

“Missed your flight?” he asked, his voice light but laced with concern.

She turned to look at him, startled at first, then quickly took him in—cap, sunglasses, and all. Recognition flickered in her eyes, but it wasn’t overwhelming. Just a flicker.

“Yeah,” she breathed out with a weak chuckle. “By about three minutes. They wouldn’t let me through even though the plane is still sitting there.”

“That’s tough,” Lando said, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Where you heading?”

“Monaco,” she said with a shrug, though it seemed like a more resigned gesture. “Guess I’ll have to wait for the next one.”

Lando nodded, glancing around the terminal. The airport was buzzing with the usual chaos, and he could see the stress rolling off her shoulders. He thought for a second, then made a split decision. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m heading there too,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ve got a private jet leaving soon. If you want, you can take the flight with me.”

Her eyebrows shot up, and her lips parted slightly, a mixture of surprise and hesitation crossing her features.

“A private jet?” she asked, a little skeptical. “Isn’t that...a bit much?”

Lando laughed softly. “Maybe, but I’ve got plenty of room. Plus, you look like you could use a break from airport stress. I promise it’s less chaotic than commercial flights.”

She blinked, clearly processing his offer. The idea of getting onto a private jet with a guy she just met—even if he was Lando Norris—probably wasn’t something she had expected when she woke up that morning.

“That’s...really kind of you,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. “But I couldn’t—“

“Sure you can,” he interrupted, his tone teasing but warm. “Think of it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You miss your flight, and instead of waiting around, you get to fly in style. How often does that happen?”

She laughed at that, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “When you put it like that…”

Lando grinned, taking her hesitation as a positive sign. “C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? You get to Monaco an hour earlier, and we both get some company for the flight. No need to sit around waiting for the next one.”

She looked at him again, weighing her options. He could see the internal debate playing out in her eyes—logic versus the sheer spontaneity of his offer. Finally, she sighed, her lips curling into a tentative smile.

“Alright,” she said, running a hand through her hair. “Why not? But I’ll warn you, I might be a terrible conversationalist after the day I’ve had.”

“That’s okay,” Lando replied with a wink. “I’m known to talk enough for two.”

With that, he grabbed one of her bags effortlessly, motioning for her to follow him toward the private terminal. She trailed behind, still looking a little shell-shocked, but there was something about the ease of his manner that made her feel less anxious about the whole thing.

As they walked, Lando kept the conversation light, asking her about her trip and how she ended up almost missing her flight. She shared a story about how her taxi had gotten stuck in traffic, the minutes ticking away as she helplessly watched the airport get closer and closer. Lando laughed, offering a few of his own travel horror stories in return. By the time they reached the sleek jet waiting on the tarmac, the mood between them was light and comfortable.

-

“You weren’t kidding,” she muttered as they approached the aircraft, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is...wow.”

Lando chuckled and waved a hand. “It’s not bad, right?”

They climbed aboard, and soon enough, they were airborne. The hum of the engines was soothing, and the view of the clouds stretching out below them was a peaceful contrast to the chaos of the airport they’d left behind.

“You know,” she said after a while, leaning back in her plush seat, “I still can’t believe I’m on a private jet with you. This feels surreal.”

Lando smirked, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Trust me, I’ve been in a lot of surreal situations lately. This one’s pretty tame.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I guess that’s fair. Monaco, huh? Do you live there?”

“Yeah, for a while now,” he replied, glancing out the window. “It’s a nice place to unwind after the craziness of race weekends.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit,” she admitted. “I mean, I’ve been through a few times, but never really had a chance to stay.”

“Well, maybe this is your chance,” he said, eyes twinkling. “What’s your plan once we get there?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend,” she said with a sigh. “But it’s not set in stone. What about you?”

“Just heading home,” Lando said, then added with a teasing grin, “But if you need a tour guide while you’re there, I might be available.”

She raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you offering to show me around Monaco, Lando?”

“Maybe,” he said, his grin widening. “Depends if you’re up for it.”

She laughed softly, glancing out the window again. “I might take you up on that.”

For the rest of the flight, the conversation flowed easily, peppered with light flirtation and comfortable silences. There was something so natural about it—like they’d known each other for longer than just a chance meeting in an airport.

As the jet began its descent toward Monaco, Lando glanced over at her, feeling a strange sense of contentment.

“Guess we’re almost there,” he said.

”Yeah,” she replied, though her tone held a hint of reluctance. “Thanks again for this, Lando. You really saved my day.”

He flashed her a playful grin. “Anytime. Maybe I’ll see you around Monaco.”

“Maybe,” she said with a smirk of her own. “But next time, let’s hope it’s under more normal circumstances.”

“Deal,” he replied with a wink.

As they stepped off the jet and into the warm Monaco air, Lando couldn’t help but think that maybe missing her flight had been the best thing that could’ve happened to either of them that day.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; thank you for reading, I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember requests are open if you would like to request something. Also question for you guys, is there someone who can help me with the link of the requests so I could put it in my masterlist? I don’t know where to find that link, DM me if you know.

[awrkive]

THE LOVE PROGNOSIS, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)

for as long as you can remember, you’ve always been a hopeless romantic.

the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

PAIRING jungkook x female reader // mingyu x female reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 27.5k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC medical!au, roommates!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!reader (they are both 4th year residents and are co-workers), corporate lawyer!mingyu, oc and jk are bffs since med school but their love language is fighting each other <3, jk and mingyu are bffs during undergrad, hopeless romantic!oc. shirtless jk in almost every scene ijbol he needs to get locked up, jk thigh tattoo 😔 a dash of sexual themes (ie: making out, grinding) and violence, this is pretty much MED SCHOOL LORE GALORE bcs boy, was there so much history mentioned here, 3/4 of this is in jk pov, so ladies.... prepare yourselves 🤔so much fluff, and we counter that with not major but not minor either ANGST, so many conversations and dialogues in this one lol, this hopefully offers every answer youre looking for from part one, when ur done reading the chapter this is how the keyring looks like

NOTES hi!! this chapter was supposed to be longer but i was like.. fuck that 😭 its getting too long. anyway. hope u guys enjoy this one!! this is my most favorite thing ive ever written i think n im weirdly very proud of this one idk. scream into my inbox and the reply section if u have #thoughtss 😄😄 [ important: pls make sure to read the note below ]

[ TLP MOODBOARD ] // [ SPOTIFY PLAYLIST ]

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

You take your sweet time trying to right your wrongs.

After that day, you were the one to initiate a call with Mingyu which he answered thankfully (you were a little skeptical about him calling you that night). You went over to his place after your shift, apologizing to him for lying about your roommate situation. Admittedly, Mingyu still doesn’t seem to be wholly okay with it – but he doesn’t really say anything more about it. He kissed you better that night, his lips making you forget all about the stress that you’ve went through for the day, convincing you to stay over.

The night bled into two when he said he couldn’t let you go. Mingyu was persistent and you were unwilling to go in the first place. Partly because who didn’t want to spend more time with their significant other? But it’s also because of a certain someone that is no other than Jeon Jungkook.

Those two nights are going on four – which means that you’ve been avoiding Jungkook for the past three days now.

It doesn’t seem like a difficult task though because Jungkook seems to be doing the same. That was your hunch. He replies to you with dry-ass “okay”s when you text him about not going home because you’re staying at Mingyu’s. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Which is unusual of him. Sure, in your almost decade-long friendship, you’ve fought a bunch of times. But it usually gets resolved in a day or two. And Jungkook wasn’t ever cold like he is right now.

See, the regular Jungkook would find you anywhere on your floor at the hospital just to annoy you. When your time allows it, you eat together with your friends at lunch.

But now, he seems to always have something to do – which, okay, fair. He’s a surgeon, after all. But he doesn’t even spare you a glance whenever you two meet halfway in the hallways. Yesterday, you coincidentally scrubbed in together for the same surgery but he did not say a word to you other than, “Scalpel”.

The rest of your friends are already asking about it. Doyeon told you he had lunch with Jungkook this afternoon, but when she mentioned that maybe you were free to go with them, Jungkook suddenly had to look over a patient’s chart.

It’s not just a hunch anymore. He really is avoiding you.

And to be honest, you’re tired of the whole pussyfooting around. He’s being childish – and you’ll be the better person to come and talk to him about it. Granted, you’re three days late. But at least you’re doing it.

You texted Mingyu earlier this afternoon that you’re coming home to your apartment tonight. He was bummed about it, you could feel it through his message, nonetheless he replied saying he’ll miss you, which put a smile to your tired face from work.

When you went home from your shift at 9pm, Jungkook wasn’t anywhere in the house. Which was a shame – because you were planning to talk to him.

Well. Maybe you’d wait for him.

But it seemed like you underestimated your exhaustion for the day because as soon you finished showering, dressing yourself with your bed clothes which consists of comfortable flimsy camisole and panty shorts, you went straight to bed and passed out – forgetting about Jungkook.

It’s past 2 am when you feel yourself waking up from your deep slumber, stomach grumbling at the emptiness, and you realize you did not only forget about waiting for Jungkook but also about eating dinner.

Walking out of your room, you head straight to the kitchen where you immediately go to open the refrigerator to see if there’s something in it you can consume. There are boxes of Chinese food take-out which makes your eyes light up. When you open to smell them, it seems that they’re still new.

You deduce it must be Jungkook’s.

That gives you the predicament of whether you should eat it or not. You take you’re not exactly on good terms as of the moment – therefore you can’t eat his food. But you’re really hungry.

Throwing away your inhibitions, you open one of the boxes, not even bothering to heat the food.

“Hey,”

You almost jump upon hearing another voice. Looking to your side, you see Jungkook approaching, with only his boxers on, upper half naked.  

“H-hey,” you say, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are these yours?” You point to the take-out box in your hand.

Jungkook nods and heads straight to your direction. Taking one of the boxes, he hauls himself to the kitchen island, twisting his body so that he can face you.

“Yep.” he responds, dipping his fingers inside the box and taking out strands of noodles from it.

You wince at the sight. “Look like worms.”

“Just like worms.” Jungkook grins, chewing on them in that obnoxious way because he knows you don’t like noisy eaters.

Frowning, you decide to follow him to the island and haul yourself on top of it as well, sitting beside him. Jungkook scoots to the side to give you more room.

“It’s kind of like eating naengmyeon, I don’t like naengmyeon.” You tell him, opening another box and feeling delighted to see untouched stir-fried rice. “Did you just buy this earlier?”

Jungkook nods. “Left them in the fridge when I realized I wasn’t too hungry.”

“Then you woke up feeling hungry?” You smile at him.

He chuckles. “Yeah. When did you get off work?”

“Nine. You?”

“Twelve am.”

You grimace at that, but nod in understanding.

There’s a beat of silence before Jungkook speaks up again.

“Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“Just wanted to remind you I’m still your housemate…” you joke, brushing your elbow against his arm in a teasing manner.

Jungkook laughs as he shakes his head. He picks up another batch of noodles in his fingers and then offers it to you, prompting you to arch your brow at him. “Try it.”

You shake your head. “I hate cold noodles.”

“Just try,” He insists, placing it closer to your face. You scrunch your nose, skeptical. It makes Jungkook chuckle lowly. “Head back.”

Hesitantly, you tilt your head back and open your mouth as Jungkook puts the noodles inside it. You almost choke on it when Jungkook laughs mid-way, making you laugh as well, but thankfully, you were able to chew all of them just fine.

“What the fuck.” You frown, slapping his arm good-naturedly.

“Wasn’t so bad, huh?”

“It was bad.” You say, going back to eating your fried rice. Jungkook gives you a look that says he’s not convinced. Looking at his face, you roll your eyes, “It’s like eating–” you stop mid-sentence as Jungkook quickly wipes off something on the side of your lips. It’s so quick though that you brush it off just as instantly and continue, “—literal worms.”

“Imagine if worms tasted like noodles. Wouldn’t that be sick as hell?” Jungkook muses, stretching his arm over you to reach for another take-out box on the counter. It’s so sudden that your immediate reflex was to stretch your upper body backwards, feeling a little taken aback when Jungkook’s face gets a little too close to your stomach, with his arm rubbing over your bare thighs.

He seems like it doesn’t move him, though. Just goes back to his position casually and opens another box. As he does, you can’t help but take a quick look at his bulging thighs, the short length of his boxers letting you get a brief view of the tattoo that peeks out of the expanse of his skin. You’ve seen that before many times, but not the entirety – of course not. It looks like it goes up from way above. Anyway, it’s sort of like a flower, but you’re not sure. You never really asked him about it. He never brings it up either.

“Oh, man, the dumplings got cold.” Jungkook picks inside his box as if he’d miraculously find one that’s not cold.

You roll your eyes at his antics. “You stored them in the fridge for like how many hours now?”

Ignoring you, Jungkook takes out one dumpling, trying to eat it, and you watch as he visibly winces. In a moment, he shoots one straight to the trash bin across from you.

“Oh, that’s real mature.” You say dryly.

With that, Jungkook throws another one, giving you a cheeky grin when it lands in the bin successfully for the second time.

Pursing your lips, you sarcastically say, “Wow. Two points to Xavier from Jeon Jungkook.”

That makes Jungkook look at you instantly.

“How the hell do you know that?” He gives you a look of confusion but there’s amusement written all over his face at the same time.

“Well… Mingyu told me you both played for the basketball varsity team back in undergrad, so,”

Jungkook stops. There’s look of something in his eyes that you can’t quite point out, but then suddenly, he nods.

“He told you how good I was?” He says with a teasing tone, a contrast to his sudden and quick drop of mood a few seconds ago.

You throw him a tissue. “Don’t be cocky. He just mentioned it.”

“I was captain. Two-time MOP, 2018 and 2019 NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament.”

You look at him with silent reverence. Well, Mingyu didn’t tell you all that, that’s for sure. It’s a bit surreal to picture Jungkook wearing a basketball uniform, though. You’re so used to seeing him in scrubs and lab gown and his usual casual, occasionally suits when you attend formal conferences. You’ve only ever seen him sweat it out whenever he works out in the living room.

“Impressive.” You say. Jungkook grins proudly. “It’s strange I only know about it now, though.”

“You never asked.” He shrugs. “What ‘bout you? I only know you’re little miss summa cum laude.”

Huffing, you jab at his arm when he mentions it, rolling your eyes at him which only earns you a chuckle. Regardless, you tell him, “2018 NCA College Nationals. We won Coed Division One.”

Jungkook arches a brow. “NCA… National Cheerleading Association?” You nod, eating from your take-out box so as to avoid Jungkook’s look after you do so.

“No fucking way,” He says incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” You bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling too much. You never really get to share this part about you with a lot of people. To quote Jungkook, they never ask. It’s funny when they do get surprised by it though, like he is now. When Jungkook stares at you – you don’t know if it’s just in disbelief – longer than necessary, you realize he’s staring at your face and that makes you consciously fix a strand of hair behind your ear. “Go big blue, go big blue, show ‘em what wildcats can do.” You sing a in fast tempo, chuckling about how silly it sounds.

Jungkook utters a sound of amusement. “That’s… wow. Right now, I’m just picturing you cheering but it’s a bit hazy and shit.”

“You’re saying you can’t picture me cheering?” You playfully accuse, but you know exactly what he meant. Even you still don’t believe that you actually did cheer in undergrad. When you signed up for it, it was just because you had to choose a club, and you weren’t interested in anything other than that. You thought cheering would be fun and it was fun.

“No, I’m just—” Jungkook cuts himself off and looks at you. “Okay, now I totally deserve a cheer for that two-point shot I made just now.”

You laugh loudly at that. Covering your mouth, you look at him to see if he’s joking but he seems to be serious.

“No.” You say, your eyes widening, body stiffening.

“Come on,” Jungkook chuckles.

You roll your eyes. “You have to do more than a two-point shot to get a cheer.”

“Okay, what do you want me to do?” Jungkook eagerly presents a challange. You stifle a laugh when he gears up for something. “I can shoot dumplings further from here with my left hand.”

“Ten feet away,” You muse, giggling when Jungkook suddenly gets off the counter, carrying the box of dumplings, and positions himself further away from you. Laughing, you shake your head before you say, “You can’t do it.”

“Try me.” He says as he begins to pick out a dumpling and concentrate on the trash can. Before he shoots, he tells you, “This one’s for you.”

You watch as the dumpling misses the bin.

Jungkook beats you to speaking first. “I admit. I’m a bit rusty.”

Sneering, you eat your fried rice, not straying your eyes from him. “You have to shoot, like, three dumplings.”

“That was a trial shot.” he insists, eyeing you playfully, before he gears up for another again. You watch closely when he makes a move to shoot another dumpling.

It goes in. Jungkook smirks at you when you look at him, impressed.

“Not bad.” You cock your head to the side.

“Tss.” He shoots another shot again and it’s successful for the second time. “That’s two.” Jungkook shows you his fingers and you chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Let’s see if you can get the third.”

Jungkook nods, and you cover a snicker again at the way his stance suddenly turns serious, as if he’s really taking the whole thing seriously.

In a few seconds, he shoots the last dumpling straight to the bin just as successfully as the last time.

“What did I say?” Jungkook brags as he goes over to the island across from you, sitting on the high chairs this time. You turn your body to look at him, containing your smile. “Your turn now.” Jungkook says with a smirk.

Your purse your lips. “I’m a bit rusty.”

“So was I!” Jungkook claims which prompts a chuckle from you.

You look at him for a while, unsure. You close your eyes, bobbing your head side to side, covering your face as you suddenly feel a sense of embarrassment at the thought of dancing in front of him.

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You say after Jungkook tries to remove your hands off your face.

He raises his right hand and fixes his sitting posture upright. “Promise.”

“If you show your teeth I’ll stop and so will this friendship.” You threaten as you bring your legs over the island to his direction.

Jungkook chuckles while saying a series of “Yeah”s, holding your hand to help you hop off the counter safely.

You take a few quick strides to place yourself in the space between your counter and dining area and look at Jungkook who settles himself comfortably in the kitchen island chair, watching you with relaxed position and crossed arms.

Feeling uncharacteristically shy, you stand upright, suddenly aware that you’re only wearing a pair of panty shorts and a fitted camisole. You don’t work out so you’re a bit conscious in front of Jungkook who looks really good in his natural form. You don’t even understand how he finds time to go to the gym or do his little work-out sesh during some nights or weekends, but you shake away the thought and smile at him coyly. He has the better body, sure, but you know well enough he’ll never judge you for yours… besides, it’s just Jungkook. He makes you feel safe and secure, no matter the context of the situation.

Off the top of your head, you do whatever it is you remember from your college routines and begin your yell.

“Wildcats, get up and shout! We’re the team that’s gonna take it out! Give it all you’ve got, let’s hear you roar!” You chuckle mid-way, forgetting a step. “Sorry,” you apologize quickly, but then continue right away, trapping your bottom lip with your teeth to prevent yourself from completely losing it. “We’re the Wildcats, and we’re here to score! Go Big Blue! Go Big Blue—" You make a mistake again and skip a beat with your finger snaps, and when you look at Jungkook, you can’t help but give in to the laughter that’s been bubbling up inside you. “I can’t do it!” You say, cutting your “performance” short.

“What? It was good!” Jungkook says, encouraging you to continue further.

You stifle a laugh as you go back to the top again but then your mind forgets the next step and you’re messing up the choreography again. At that point, you start mindlessly cheering; jumping around and flapping your arms to make it look like somewhat of a cheer but none of the coordination. You know it looks messy, so you run over to Jungkook shamefully, plopping on the chair beside him. Bringing your legs up to the seat and covering your face in your thighs, you can’t help but giggle in embarrassment.

“Woah,” Jungkook says, but you can say there’s a hint of laughter in his tone. You know it’s not out of mockery when he lifts your head up and boop your nose. “That was cute. Best cheer I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re pushing it.” You hiss, kicking his knee slightly.

Jungkook captures your leg, and you squeal when he pinches your thigh. You both laugh at that and you thought Jungkook’s gonna let go of your leg but he keeps it on his lap.

“My stomach hurts from laughing.” You tell him, taking a deep breath, trying to regulate your heart. Everything feels funny. Your cheer was funny. You must’ve looked so stupid.

Jungkook chuckles. “Wildcats, get up and shout—”

“Jungkook!” You cut him off, removing your leg from his lap to kick him again on the thigh this time. That only prompts him to laugh louder.

When the high of the moment fades, Jungkook looks over at you.

“Do you feel sleepy?”

You shake your head. “Not really. At least not yet.”

He hums, and then takes your box of fried rice to eat from it.

There’s the silence again, but it’s quiet and comfortable. No weird tension sitting in the air.

“Jungkook,” You call him after a while.

“Hm.”

You clear your throat. “I meant to talk to you,” Jungkook stops eating and looks at you to acknowledge you. “I’m sorry.”

He stares at you for a moment. Then, he chuckles, shaking his head. “You know what’s funny? I was gonna talk to you yesterday to say I’m sorry but then you didn’t talk to me at all in the OR. I thought you were still mad at me.”

With furrowed brows, you tell him, “I thought you were mad at me. You only said “scalpel” in the OR and then that was it. No hi’s or hello’s in the hallways for the past three days.”

“Me? Mad at you?” He says, as if he can’t believe you would even think that. “I mean, you piss me off sometimes, but I don’t think I was ever mad at you.” You pout. Jungkook smiles. “I can never be mad at you,” His look is gentle and warm that you feel a little flustered for a reason unknown. It just ticks a little something in your brain, tugging something at your heart. Then, Jungkook sighs. “I’m sorry, too. For the way I went about it. The “bringing boys here” comment was out of line.”

There’s a wince on your face when you hear that.

That comment did hurt a little.

But you know it was just a heat-in-the-moment type of thing, and he just wasn’t able to think through his words well enough when he was… well, pissed – and rightfully so. Because you did something offensive to him, and you can’t blame him for feeling the way he felt.

You nod at Jungkook. “Thank you for saying that. I’m saying sorry because I realized what you said. I should’ve informed you I was bringing Mingyu home, and I should’ve told him about you being my roommate. We really could’ve avoided that situation.”

“You can just tell me beforehand if you’re bringing him to our place.” Jungkook shrugs.

You chuckle. “No. That won’t happen again.” And it’s true. It’s awkward and it’s rude when you have a roommate.

Jungkook looks at you. “Okay. I won’t do it as well,” You shake your head, playfully rolling your eyes at him. “I’m guessing you settled it pretty quickly with him?” He gestures at your neck and you realize he’s referring to the necklace you’re wearing – the one Mingyu gave you the very same day you fought.

You want to point out it’s not really new, but you settle with, “Yeah. Fortunately.” as a response.

“I really am sorry for what happened.” Jungkook says and you can feel the sincerity in his voice.

“It’s fine,” Touching his arm, you give him a small smile. “Have you and Mingyu talked?”

Jungkook shakes his head. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you think about how that’s… not good. They were friends before you and have just met each other again after so many years – you do not want to be that kind of person who gets in the way of some other people’s relationship.

And you really can’t have Jungkook not liking your boyfriend or your boyfriend not liking Jungkook, either.

But as much as you want to suggest that they talk it out, you know you can’t. Besides, you trust that they eventually will. They’re grown men.

“So…” you trail off. “Are we okay?”

Jungkook’s lips tilt upwards. “Are we okay?”

“Come on,” you roll your eyes. “Do we hug it out or like – I don’t know – handshake on it?”

“Let’s hug it out like we’re twelve.” Jungkook grins and in a moment, he scoots closer to you and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest.

The angle is a bit awkward with Jungkook crouching too much you don’t doubt his position is anything but comfortable, but it works, and it gives you the opportunity to pat his head as you say, “I missed hanging out with you, buddy.”

“Can’t say the same thing.”

That earns him a slight pinch to the ear easily accessible to you.

“Ow!” Jungkook says and then add, “I hate to ruin the moment but… you’re not wearing a bra.”

You quickly grab both sides of his head to get him off your chest. He comes back sitting upright on his chair, laughing.

“Fuck off—” you flip him off and then look over your box of fried rice, but then you remember he was also eating it earlier. “You ate all of it!”

“Finders keepers.”

“I hate you.”

“Hm.”

You shake your head, standing up and starting to grab all the boxes to take them to the trash bin.

“By the way, I just got my approval from HR for our trip the next two weeks. Have you?” You ask him across the room. You can see Jungkook’s face light up at the mention.

“Yeah, of course. Got approved yesterday.” Jungkook grins. You watch as he stares at you a bit longer, his face showing a hint of confusion.

You arch a brow. “Why does your face look like that?” Jungkook shakes his head, obviously ready to dismiss it. But you’re persistent. “What is it?” You say, walking towards his direction and stopping in front of him.

“Nothing…” he trails off. Then he rubs the back of his head. “I just really thought that you…” You squint your eyes at him. Then he chuckles lightly and swipes his fingers through his hair. “I just thought the trip would be cancelled.”

Your eyebrows furrow. Frowning, you nudge at him. “What? Of course, not! We planned that trip like six months ago. I’m not backing out.”

Jungkook gives you a shy smile.

“Okay.”

You can’t help it. You bring your hands to his cheeks and pinch them.

“He’s so excited for his birthday trip!” You say, intentionally talking like you would to a toddler.

Jungkook predictably forces your hands out of his skin and holds your wrist a bit tight as he rolls his eyes at you.

“Knock it off.” He glares at you. But you’re not done with your fun, so you poke your finger to his waist, knowing that’s his weak spot, and tease him some more. “Seriously.” Jungkook huffs out and your laughter becomes louder because he looks like a grumpy child right now.

“Sorry.” you say, still giggling. He furrows his brows, and you can’t help it, you poke at his waist again. When you do it, though, Jungkook captures your wrist, effectively stopping another one of your juvenile assaults. Suddenly, you start noting the mirth in his eyes.

You’ve seen that look before and it always ends up with you almost dying from too much laughter because he always—

“You’re gonna regret that.”

You let out a squeal as Jungkook takes ahold of your waist, and before you can even voice out a protest, he easily hoists you up against his body, bouncing you up until you're hanging around his shoulder like a sack bag.

“What the hell, put me down, you prick!” You complain, slapping the rugged muscles on his back. But Jungkook just responds with a series of clicks of his tongue, carrying you across the living room.

You know he’s about to put you on the couch to tickle you to death, so you do what you could and bite down on the skin of his back.

“Ouch!” Jungkook immediately reacts, stumbling a little in his stride. You snort at that, but you immediately frown when you feel a slap to your ass.

“You asshole!”

“You just lowered your chances of being spared,” Was his last words before you feel yourself getting put down on the surface of the sofa. Soon after, Jungkook’s poking his fingers to your waist and stomach, prompting you to erupt in fits of giggles and laughter, thrashing beneath him like a caged animal.

“Pl—stop—oh my god!” You say, weakly reaching for his arms. When Jungkook doesn’t relent, you continue wriggling under him, laughing and choking, saying a variety of, “Stop! I’m —” giggle, “gonna—” then another snort, “—die!”

Jungkook chuckles. He torments you some more before finally stopping his fingers in their ministrations.

“You deserve that.” Jungkook says when you both came down from the high, laughing at the messy state of your hair and the way you try to catch your breath like you just ran a triathlon.

You breathe in and out deeply, clutching your stomach that still hurts from laughing.

“Fuck you.” You hiss, giving him the finger.

Jungkook bursts into laughter, and from his position in between your legs, he lets himself fall on top of you.

“Jungkook, no!” Pushing him off you, you try to get away from him but the goof just forces himself beside you instead, sticking his much bigger build in between you and the back of the couch. It makes you scoot near the edge as a result, and you hold onto his arm so that you don’t fall off, tangling your leg against his own for added support. Pinching his waist in which he lets out an ingenuine “Owe!” to, you face him as you say, “You are so annoying.”

Jungkook just gives you a shit-eating grin. “Who started it?”

“You almost killed me.” You say dryly.

“Don’t be dramatic.” He rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, you realize the position you are both in.

Your bare legs are intermingled against each other, Jungkook has one arm wrapped around your waist, and from the lack of clothes on both sides, you can feel pretty much everything.

There’s a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach upon the epiphany.

Jungkook’s looking at you with a playful grin, but as he notices you staring at him, he stills. From such close proximity, you can almost trace out the lines of his features. The scar on his cheek, the mole under his lip, and the pimple scar that was probably from a week ago. At that thought, you think about: if you can see him so close like this, he can also probably see you, and that’s when you break away from the contact.

“Shit.” You hiss as you let yourself fall off the floor by rolling around, away from his hold and touch and him in general.

Jungkook immediately scoots to the edge of the sofa to look down at you with confused eyes. “The hell?”

“Don’t worry,” you wave your hand at him.

He snorts. “Did you just fall?”

You roll your eyes. Of course, he’d think that. But you let him, standing up from the floor.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

You hear Jungkook’s boisterous laughter as you walk towards the kitchen again, stopping in front of the fridge to get some water.

“You’re going to bed now?” Asks Jungkook, following you to the fridge and mirroring your activity.

Nodding at his question, you peer from the rim of the glass as you answer, “Yeah, I don’t want to be sleeping at the hospital later.”

“Fair.”

Soon after, you both decided to clean up a bit in the kitchen and when you finished, you two headed towards the direction of your bedrooms. It’s located just near the kitchen, with the doors located beside each other.

When you turn the knob open to your own door, Jungkook calls you, catching your attention.

You arch a brow at him, waiting.

“Good night,” Jungkook says. You drop your kitted brows and smile. You’re about to greet him the same but then he adds, “Also– that was a really great cheer.”

“Ugh, Jungkook!”

You look across the bed to see Mingyu still on his laptop on his worktable, working on something. An hour and thirty minutes have passed since you arrived at his place, but you’re still not getting the least bit of attention from him.

You get it, it’s work, but he asked you to come over… isn’t it only fair to expect a little bit of something?

Getting up from the bed, you trudge over to his direction.

“Hi,” you say, ducking down to wrap your arms around his neck from the back of his swivel chair and kissing the spot below his ear.

“Hi,” Mingyu meets the kiss you give him on the lips. He reaches for your hands resting on top of chest and holds it there, looking at you. You delight at the hint of attention. “I’ll just be in a few minutes. You’re staying, right?”

You grin. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Rolling your eyes, you take your hands off him and stand upright once again. Mingyu rotates his chair so he can look at you with his undivided attention, voicing out a low whistle when he takes in your outfit – or lack of it thereof.

You arch a brow, knowing well he’s ogling you only in your bra and panties, squinting your eyes at him. Slowly, you glide your leg over his waist and plop yourself down on his lap, waiting for any protest from him. It doesn’t come, and so you give him a grin before planting your lips against his.

The kiss turns heated in a matter of seconds, with Mingyu squeezing over your bra and taking in your soft moans against his mouth, feeling the delicious roll of your hips against his crotch where you feel a semi growing already.  

“Sweetheart,” Mingyu grunts. When you don’t answer that, he cups your jaw, making you look at him. “__.”

“What?” You say, more like a whine, looking at him with hooded eyes. You’re starting to feel sticky in your underwear and you need him to do something about it.

“Not now, sweetheart. I told you, I’m working.”

You frown. There’s a beat of silence before you let out a sigh. “Okay.” You say, getting off his lap.

“I’ll take care of you when I’m done.” He promises, taking ahold of your wrist, looking up at you.

Pursing your lips, you look away. “It’s fine.” When Mingyu lets go, you look at the direction of the bathroom. “I’m gonna take a shower,” you tell him. “You’re free to join me if you want or whatever.”

You know he can’t and that he won’t.

“Alright.” Was the last thing you heard before you walked towards the bathroom door.

You’ve been over at his place too many times to count now, and you’re slowly building your shower essentials in his own bathroom. Your body wash, your face cream, your shampoo, your conditioner – even your moisturizer and your eye mask are already placed inside his bathroom cabinet.

As you step out of the shower box, all clean and fresh, you go over to the lavatory to brush your teeth. At the sight of both your cups sitting beside each other, you smile.

You look in the mirror – noting the way your lips can’t stop from curling up at the thoughts running inside your head.

Shaking them off, you grab Mingyu’s robe and put it over yourself, turning the knob around to step out of the bathroom.

You see Mingyu on his bed this time around, but his laptop’s still perched on his lap.

He looks up when he sees you. “Ready to sleep?”

You nod, feeling at home the way you automatically go towards his closet to pick out a shirt and some panties you left over the time.

As you’re in the process of dressing yourself, a phone’s ding rings in the room.

Looking at Mingyu, you watch as he checks his phone, assuming it came from him. When he puts it down, he looks at your plugged phone on the bedside table.

“What is it?” You ask, now properly dressed, walking to the bed.

You note the way Mingyu’s gaze changes as he hands you your phone.

“It’s Jungkook.” He says with a weirdly clipped tone. Then another ding comes. A beat, and then your phone rings.

Your brow shoots up, taking the device from him and checking it yourself.

Jungkook’s face is plastered over your screen – a picture of him wasted in his room two years ago, taken from your Thailand trip with the rest of your friends. He’s sleeping with his mouth open, shirtless in the middle of the hut, only covered up with his trunks. You remember setting it as his contact photo because it was funny back then. Jungkook hates the photo, and your friends always made fun of him for it.

Right now, though, it doesn’t feel the least bit funny. Not when Mingyu’s certainly saw it. Not when he looks a little put off as soon as he sees a glimpse of it when he was passing your phone to you.

“I’ll just answer this.” You say, standing from the bed again.

You don’t expect Mingyu to suddenly shoot you a question, “You can’t answer here?”

Brows knitting together, you give him an uncertain look. “It’s just Jungkook.”

“Yeah… so, why not here?”

You relent, seeing the point he’s trying to make. Plopping yourself on the bed again, you answer Jungkook’s call and put the phone over your ear.

“Jungkook,”

“__,” he sighs out your name, sounding relieved. “Thank fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” You ask, growing a bit concerned at his tone.

You can hear some shuffling from the other line as Jungkook tells you, “Did you see me with my pager in the locker room earlier?”

“Oh, uh… let me think…” you trail off, trying to remember the events earlier. As you do that, you notice Mingyu’s fingers trailing his hands to your bare legs, but you ignore it as you answer Jungkook, “I think I didn’t, yeah. I didn’t.” Jungkook hisses. “Did you check your car?” you ask, trying to help out.

“Already did. It’s not in there, either. I really think I accidentally threw it out in the bin along with some trash in my pockets.” He says, sounding a little distressed now.

“Well… you can always just go to the operator, you know? Get a new pager?” you offer. There’s a drop of kiss on your shoulder that makes you shudder, and you look at Mingyu with furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything, though, just let his fingers trail upwards, his hand sliding under your shirt, gripping your thigh. Your boyfriend just gives you a sly smile, and you squint your eyes at him, confused at what he’s playing at. 

“I know. But, ugh, you know I lost two pagers already this year. Sungkyun hates me at this point—”

Jungkook’s answer suddenly drowns out when Mingyu grazes his thumb on your clothed clit.

“Oh.”

“—what?” Jungkook halts, asking about your abrupt reaction.

You bite your lip in an effort to shut yourself up, and when Mingyu’s hand makes another move again, your free hand shoots up to stop him.

“Hold on a second, Jungkook,” you say, quickly pressing mute.

Mingyu looks at you with a smirk, playful smile painting his face. “You know you can continue, right?”

At that, your brows furrow even further.

“What are you doing?” You didn’t mean to sound curt but with the way Mingyu’s expression changes, it may have sounded that way.

You… couldn’t help it.

“I wanted to touch you,” Mingyu tells you after a beat of awkward silence. Then, his hand retreats to himself. “Do you not want to?”

There’s guilt that springs up inside you when you see the look on his face as he says those words.

“No, I’m sorry— it’s just… I want to. I just… not with somebody on the phone?” You put it out like a question, unsure of yourself.

The room is quiet for awhile and suddenly there’s a thick tension that hangs in the air.

You reach out for Mingyu but then drop your hand to your sides when he moves to sit on the edge of the bed.

He turns his head to you with an unreadable expression on his face. “Is it because it’s Jungkook?”

You frown at his tone.

It sounded accusatory.

“Excuse me?” You say, taking immediate offense. When Mingyu shrugs, you feel a bit of annoyance bubble up inside you. “I would’ve still stopped you if it was anybody else on the phone, Mingyu.” you say, tone firm and leveled.

“I’m sorry, then.”

But he definitely doesn’t sound like it. His sarcasm makes you snap. “What’s up with you?”

Mingyu opens his mouth to say something but then he closes it again. You watch him with confused eyes, completely at loss of context where he’s at. The night was going fine as usual and suddenly, there’s this.

After a few seconds, Mingyu sighs. “What are you even talking about right now?” He glances at your phone.

“It’s—” you take a glance at it too. “It’s just his pager.”

“Pager?”

“Yes.”

“He asks you about his pager in the middle of the night, knowing full well you’re with me?”

“I—” you stop yourself, words suddenly getting lost in your tongue. Not because you don’t know the answer to his question, but because you hate the way he phrased it – and honestly, you’re starting to feel icky about how he’s going with it. What was he trying to do? Pin you down with accusatory notions?

You don’t fucking get it. Jungkook’s his friend. It’s so bizarre to even think about how Mingyu is seemingly acting jealous over his supposed friend.

“You know what?” You say instead, not wanting to discuss it further with him anymore. It’s just gonna lead to an unnecessary fight – and frankly, you don’t want to deal with his jealousy. It seems so… futile. “Can we just sleep this whole thing off?”

Mingyu looks at you and for the first time, his eyes don’t look gentle. He looks at you with a bit of a frown, and you get it. You do. You’re not exactly happy, either. Not right now, with the way he’s acting.

“Do you want me to go?” You ask, ready to step out of bed.

“I didn’t tell you to.” Mingyu says, voice equally strained.

You sigh. “What do you want me to do, Mingyu? Are you jealous, is that it?” You meant it to be completely rhetorical, not at all expecting him to say anything.

But he answers instantly. “What if I say I am?”

Your lips part. You’re surprised at the confirmation, but you shake your thoughts off it.

“Then it’s completely unnecessary,” you tell him, as genuine as you can sound. When Mingyu doesn’t move in his position on the edge of the bed, you crawl towards him. Testing the waters, you touch his arm to see if he would avoid your touch, but when you do rest your hand on his shoulder, he doesn’t stray. “I like you, Gyu.”

Cocking your head to the side, you watch as his face still sports a cold expression. But he says, “I like you too, you know that,”

“But…?” you try to get out the words from him, because you knew there’s more.

“I don’t want you to think I’m being irrational about this whole thing,” he starts, and you nod your head, trying to show him that you get it. Mingyu licks his lips before he continues, “I just… I guess I just want you to put boundaries around your friendship with Jeon.”

That makes you stop. Nevermind the strange way he called Jungkook by his surname.

“How do you mean by that?” You ask with furrowed brows.

“You’re just really close with him. And you live in one apartment together.” He points out.

“Mingyu…” you say, suddenly feeling tired all over again. “I thought we already talked about that.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m a hundred percent comfortable with it, you know?”

It feels like you got electrocuted by his words the way you quickly retreat your hands. “That’s…” you trail off, not really knowing what to say.

Thankfully, though, Mingyu interjects before you can slip into a dilemma.

“I know, I know about why you’re living with him and all that stuff. We talked about it. It’s just…” he reaches for your hand. Entangling your fingers together, Mingyu brings your knuckles to his lips and presses a kiss there. “I want you all the time. And I guess I really am just jealous – even though it’s juvenile. I’m jealous that he’s known you far longer than me.”

“But— I’m here thrice a week. I make time for the both of us. And it doesn’t really matter how long you’ve known me for, Gyu,” you respond truthfully.

He nods.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess I just— I got in way over my head that I also forgot to take your feelings into account,”

Mingyu smiles, and there goes his soft gentle expression again.

“I know. It’s fine. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. It’s me who’s being unreasonable.”

“No, it’s not unreasonable,” you tell him. “I get it. Boundaries, Mingyu. I know what you’re talking about.”

Mingyu scooches closer and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You gladly bask in it, smiling against his lips, keeping your gentle gaze towards him as he breaks away.

“I’m sorry for being a bummer.”

You kiss him again and the way he inserts his tongue in your mouth distracts you a bit but you manage to break the contact. Soon, he’s lying down beside you and when you check your phone, your call with Jungkook has already ended, but there are two messages from him on your notifications.

[12:35am] jaykay🤠: are you still alive [12:38am] jaykay🤠: ok nevermind i’ll hang the call i actually found my pager just now 😭 [12:38am] jaykay🤠: it was in the kitchen counter LOL [12:45am] jaykay🤠: ok bye. night

You were going to reply but decide against it for some reason.

Putting your phone down to the bedside table, you follow Mingyu under the sheets and as usual, you face against his direction just like he does.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t really like cuddling that much. He’d share his space to a certain extent, just like how you got into his bed in the first place, but not the lengths of cuddling together in bed. Mingyu didn’t tell you why – and you don’t want to come off as clingy, so you don’t bother asking.

It’s strange, though. Now that he told you a while ago that he, apparently, “wants you all the time”. Shouldn’t he like to cuddle you in bed, then? But you don’t want to dwell in it too much, afraid that you may be digging yourself a hole if you were to keep it up.

As you lay your cheek on your folded hands, you play back the events of the night and think about how you’ve seen this film before.

When you were in med school, Eunwoo always had something to say about your friendship with Jungkook. He wasn’t direct with it, but with the way he never bothered to make friends with Jungkook or always had a grimace on his face when you mentioned him in passing, it was enough for you to conclude that Eunwoo was always… wary of Jungkook – and definitely in a jealous type of way.

He said almost the exact same thing as Mingyu – that boundaries should be built; that Jungkook and you are too close, why is he calling you in the middle of the night to ask about mundane things, why does he know too much about your mother’s preferences, and why is he buddy-buddy with your dad who otherwise always had an uninterested expression on his face?

It wasn’t even just Mingyu. Your past flings for the past four years you’ve been single always got put off when they heard that you’re rooming with a guy – even more so when you mention that he’s your bestfriend.

You’re not stupid to not see how it looks like from the outside perspective – and you’re not dense to not ever consider the possibility of something romantic brewing within the friendship. You have thought about it before – had an instant crush on him the first time you met at the law library back in post grad school. But it was fleeting at best, especially when Eunwoo came into your life a few weeks later.

Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung have also hinted at it. Sometimes – most of the time, really, teasing you two, especially Taehyung. Even the most mature one among your friends – Yoongi – once told you both to get married at forty. He was joking, though he looked way too serious for someone who was just supposed to be joking.

And there was that one dreadful time in third year of med school when Jungkook almost kissed you.

You buried that memory in the very depths of your mind – not ever wanting to revisit it again. It was a bad time, and it was just not a good thing to look back at. Jungkook acted irresponsible, and you stupidly let yourself be complicit in it, even though you knew better.

Nothing even happened – but that memory was just that. A mere memory. You doubt Jungkook even remembers that himself.

Here’s the thing: you’ve just never seen Jungkook past the person you consider as a friend. You’ve never been weird about the women he dated – or if he dated, at all. He’s also always been supportive of your relationships… as far as you’re concerned. Regardless of what everybody says, you both seem to agree that you’re just better off as friends. You work better that way.

Jungkook’s a good guy, though. He does have tons of flings – but he’s just conventionally attractive and works hard for a body that is to die for. Women like that. Additionally, he has a stable job and even though he annoys you about splitting the delivery fee when you do take-out, he’s actually quite rich – or, his family is – he’d always insist.

You get it though. As a co-resident, you both don’t really make that much (for the work that you do) – at least not yet.

But he was indeed born in generational wealth, coming from a family of doctors, which is why it’s quite impressive that he knows how to handle his life by his own hard work. His intelligence and perseverance are some of the things you admire about him, his drive to make a name for himself and never leeching off his family’s name. Jungkook doesn’t ever brag about how his neurosurgeon dad is one of the best in the country and how his mom is a legend in cardiac surgery – even though sometimes, he could use it a little. He’s playful yet charming; quiet when you’re just knowing him, but he’ll eventually talk a lot when you get close.

As a friend, he’s quite the best you’ve ever had.

And even though you don’t really see him past that, you know in your heart that whoever ends up with him romantically will be a very lucky person.

“You’re a pussy.”

“Doyeon.”

Doyeon huffs, rolling her eyes so hard at Taehyung’s reprimand and then goes back to glaring at Jungkook again who just looks at her with a pathetic expression.

“What? I’m right. He’s a pussy and you’re an even bigger pussy for defending him being a pussy.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows angrily.

“Why are we talking about pussies?”

Nayeon suddenly enters the on-call room and Jungkook nearly has a heart attack.

“What the hell, you should at least knock. Jesus.” Jungkook says, clutching his chest, looking at Nayeon with an almost offended expression who closes the door behind her.

“Were you scared it was __? See!” Doyeon sighs out in frustration. “Such a fucking pussy.”

“Such a fucking pussy,” Jungkook mocks, using a higher pitch to imitate Doyeon poorly.

“And a child too.” She rolls her eyes and throws him a pillow. It misses Jungkook and hits Taehyung instead.

“Seriously, what are you so mad about today? You have that mood. Did you and your secret boyfriend fight?” Taehyung spits out.

Everybody stills in the room when Doyeon gives him a sharp glare. That pretty much makes everyone shut up, especially Taehyung who makes a show of physically zipping his mouth.

Nayeon fakes a cough and trudges towards Jungkook sitting on one of the beds. She throws her heavy hands on his shoulders, more like slaps, and then looks at Doyeon as she asks, “What are we calling this man a pussy for?”

“Oh, ask him. Or his dumber best friend.” Doyeon rolls his eyes and looks at Taehyung, crossing her arms and leaning her back on the chair she’s sitting on from across the room.

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings and I hate you.” Taehyung says from the other bed.

“Why?” Nayeon ignores their banter and furrows her brows at Jungkook curiously.

Jungkook hisses under his breath. “It’s nothing. She calls me a pussy for literally everything.”

Doyeon butts in. “Yeah, are you gonna cry?”

“If __ was here, she’s gonna be on my side, you know that?” Jungkook rebuts.

“If __ was here, you’d be panicking because she’ll know about your little secret.”

“Oof.” Taehyung comments.

“Oh, Jungkookie…” Nayeon looks down at him with worried eyes. When he looks up with a sad look, she starts rubbing his shoulders as some sort of comfort, already knowing about what this might be about. “This is about… the thing?”

He nods weakly. “Yes. And no. Uh, well, this is… you know about the birthday trip in the next five days, right? So, she asked me if she could bring, uh, Mingyu along.”

“Oh.” Nayeon utters, looking at Doyeon for confirmation.

Doyeon nods, and then nags, “Ask him what he said.”

Nayeon looks at him. “What did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook looks down in slight shame at Nayeon’s reaction. She completely stops her hands’ ministrations on his shoulder, indicating that even she could not believe what he just did.

This makes Jungkook even feel worse.

Leaning his elbow on his thighs, he runs his fingers through his hair as he says, “I mean, how could I have said no? I would’ve looked like an asshole. Besides, Mingyu and I are college friends. There’s no reason for me to prohibit him from this trip. Like, at all.”

“Yeah, you and Mingyu are college friends but, ultimately, it’s our trip, right? __ would’ve understood if you said no.” Doyeon says, still not over her justification from a while ago.

“I know, I know. But still… I didn’t want to say no to her.” Jungkook tells Doyeon, not having a lot to say more than that.

It’s the plain truth, anyway. He truly, simply does not want to say no to you. Not ever.

“But Jungkook…” Nayeon interrupts. “Would it be okay for you? We know how you feel about the whole – er – Mingyu thing. Can you really take them being close together? Especially on a trip for your birthday?”

Though Nayeon’s voice is soft and her gaze gentle, her words hit him like a ton of bricks.

Truthfully, he doesn’t know what to feel about the whole thing. You dating Mingyu is one thing, but you bringing him along on your trips is another. It means that he’s it.

That you’re getting serious.

He hates himself for hating the idea. Jungkook’s always wanted to be nothing but supportive of you. He’d done it perfectly well with Eunwoo before, and your flings in the past four years have never upgraded past to being solely flings so he never worried about them, but now with Mingyu… it’s hard to pretend like it’s not killing him when you talk about how much you like him.

You have that lovestruck look on your face when Mingyu comes up in a conversation. For the first time in a while, you look genuinely happy. Jungkook always thought that your feelings for Eunwoo still lingered over the past few years – and how could it not, when you were literally engaged to him for a year? You told him one time that he may have been your greatest love… and he fears that it might be the same with Mingyu.

Where does that exactly leave him?

“What I think doesn’t really matter. And it’s just for week.” he murmurs, but the others hear it anyway.

“An excruciating week, you mean.” Doyeon says. She stands up from her chair. “You know what, I’m over this whole thing. I’ve witnessed you pine over her for whole eight years – and I’m just – I’m moving on from this. And I have a surgery. I’m going out.”

Jungkook grimaces when Doyeon heads towards the door.

“Doyeon, don’t be mean to Jungkook. He’s trying his best, you know? The timing is just not right and—”

“What timing?”

As soon as Doyeon twisted the doorknob, pulling the door open to completely head out, you came barging in, cutting off Nayeon’s words.

Her eyes widen a little at your sudden arrival. And Jungkook scrambles to think of an effort to swerve the subject, but Taehyung beats him to it.

“__, heyyy,” he prolongs the word quite unnaturally, chuckling at the end of it for no reason. Jungkook internally notes to tell him later never dare try to save anything ever again.

That makes you furrow your brows in confusion. Directing your look to Doyeon who stopped on her tracks, you ask her instead, “What’s going on? What about Jungkook trying his best?”

Doyeon looks at Jungkook and then you. You wait, but then she just rolls her eyes – just completely done about the whole thing. Like she said earlier.

“He’s trying his best not to be a pussy – well, allegedly.” At that, she goes out of the room, ignoring your calls to pull her back in.

“Uh… I think I have a surgery in twenty. See you guys around. Gotta scrub in.” Taehyung jumps from the other bed and Jungkook makes sure to extend his leg forward so that the older guy trips on it as he walks. “What the fuck, man.” Taehyung looks at him, offense written all over his face.

Jungkook gives him a glare. Taehyung chooses to ignore it rather than prolong it and walks past you at the door.

“Bye, fuckers.”

“Don’t call me a fucker!” Nayeon chimes in but Taehyung’s already out of the room.

“Hey, seriously! What was that?” You head towards the bed where Jungkook and Nayeon are, situating yourself on the far end of the bed to lean on the frame. You take off your sneakers in one swift move and lay your feet on Jungkook’s lap.

“It’s nothing. You know how Doyeon always bullies me…” Jungkook says, ignoring the tingling sensation that starts to creep up his spine at the way you casually initiate physical contact.

He needs to get a grip. You most probably don’t really mean anything by it.

“She does not bully you.” Nayeon rolls her eyes beside him.

“You probably deserve it.” you say, pulling out and eating some strawberry yogurt.

Nayeon laughs at your remark, but then it’s cut short when a pager suddenly beeps. Instantly, all of you take out your own and check if it was yours.

“Alright, that’s my call.”

“Bye. Good luck.” You say, offering your cup to Nayeon, but she only shakes her head. Meanwhile, Jungkook gives her a pair of thumbs up.

When Nayeon leaves the room, you nudge Jungkook with your foot.

“Hey,”

Jungkook looks at you with a brow raised.

“Can you rub my foot? Please rub my foot.” You say, making the best rendition of puppy face, extending your sock-cladded foot in his direction.

He scoffs. “Do you think I’m a pushover?”

You gasp dramatically. “I do not! I think you’re a cool person who’d totally give me foot rubs.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not a cool person who would give you foot rubs.”

You groan. “I gave you a massage weeks ago.”

“That was, like, two months ago.” Jungkook says drily.

“It counts because you didn’t do anything to repay me for my kindness.”

“Oh, you need your kindness paid back?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You pout at him and then whine. “Please, just three minutes, I swear. I’ll even put up a timer.”

Indeed, Jungkook is a pushover. Pushover to your cute pout and every request. Again, he could just not find it in himself to say no to you. Not even in his wildest dreams.

But it’s never not fun to tease you before he relents. “Fine. Two minutes.” He says, pretending to begrudge the thought of giving you a foot massage, even though inside, he’s quite thrilled to be doing so.

It would be a lie to say that it isn’t one of his favorite past times in the quiet evenings of your apartment. Jungkook loves the weight of your leg on his lap, loves the way you thank him in between groans, and loves that he just gets to be close to you in almost such an intimate way.

“Your feet stink.” Jungkook decides to tease, scrunching his nose, feigning disgust.

“Don’t lie. Also, your feet stink even more, don’t try me.”

“My feet do not stink.”

“Let’s just agree to disagree,” You grin. “I’m starting a timer.” You say, grabbing your phone, pressing some stuff on it before you put it on the mattress.

“Let me see, for all I know, you set it to five instead of three.”

You look at him with widen eyes, stiffening.

“It’s three minutes.”

“Your nostrils are flaring, you’re lying.”

You groan. “Please. Dinner is on me later.”

That obviously catches Jungkook’s attention.

“You’re staying at home for the night?”

You look at him weird. “Yeah, of course. What’s with that face?”

Jungkook shakes his head, hides a small smile as he looks down to your feet on his lap and takes a hold of one. He takes off your sock for you and begins massaging the tendons of your foot, noting the way you immediately lean back and relax.

“Nothing. I just thought you’d be staying at Mingyu’s again.”

“Ah,” you nod your head. When Mingyu's name is mentioned, you visibly frown. It’s the kind of face that you make when you’re deep in thought. “I was supposed to. But I don’t know… we fought this morning.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “You wanna talk about it?”

You shrug. “Not really. It’s a weird argument. I don’t know.”

He wants so badly to poke around and find out… but somehow, there’s something in him that tells him not to bother.

Anyway, you’re going home tonight so that’s all that matters. Jungkook begins to think about what to eat for dinner… he’d love to cook something, nevermind that he’s tired from his overnight shift yesterday. He also only got around four total hours of sleep in the past 48 hours, and that was not even consecutive hours – just the sum. That is why he was in the on-call rooms, until Taehyung suddenly barged in, followed by Doyeon, Nayeon, and then you.

“Oh– there, that’s so good, Jungkook,” you say after a particularly hard press against the ball of your heel.

Jungkook knows better than to let his mind wander upon hearing that from you. He’s massaging you, of course that was gonna be the natural reaction.

It’s also quite pathetic to be even thinking about it in the first place – considering that your mind might most likely be weighed by yours and Mingyu’s argument – your boyfriend.

“Hey, about what I said a few days ago,” you started to speak again, breaking the momentary silence. Jungkook hums to acknowledge you. “I know you said yes to me bringing Mingyu along, but, uh, I’m not sure if he still plans to.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. Was the argument that bad? “Okay.”

“Yeah. He has to fly over to Arizona for something that week. Told me he may be able to arrive and join us on the second day, which is the exact date of your birthday, but honestly, I’m not sure. His sched changes a lot.”

Deep down, Jungkook wishes Mingyu just opts out of joining in altogether.

But he doesn’t have to tell you that.

“That’s a shame.” he comments, not really meaning it. He massages your other foot with ginger hands, which has you letting out soft sighs again. Jungkook buries them in the back of his head, lest his mind goes to territories that are absolutely humiliating.

“I know…” you trail off. You look like you have more to say as well, but then the door to the room opens. Again.

“Forgot my pager.” Doyeon announces, crossing the room with quick steps to reach for the forgotten thing she left on the table.

When Doyeon’s gaze falls back to the both of you, she raises a brow, and then her eyes direct their way towards Jungkook’s hands on your foot.

You’re about to say something when Doyeon rolls his eyes at Jungkook. Then, without giving you the opportunity to speak, she heads out of the room quickly, leaving Jungkook to look in another direction in quiet shame.

“What was that?” You comment, confused at what just happened.

“Eh, she’s in a sour mood today. It’s regular Doyeon.” Shrugs Jungkook, trying to swerve the subject.

You pout. “Are you two fighting again for real?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No, it’s not serious. You know how Doyeon and I get.”

You squint your eyes, but say nothing nonetheless.

Meanwhile, Jungkook hisses internally.

Jungkook gets Doyeon. You all have been friends since freshman year of med school – the founder of your study group – and she was also the first one to find out about Jungkook’s little crush. He didn’t even have to say it explicitly, she just knew. Eventually, Jungkook told Taehyung. He has quite a big mouth, unfortunately, so when you started your internship at the hospital – he lets it slip in a conversation with Nayeon who was just becoming your friend that time – leading the situation to where it is right now.

Out of all of them, though, Doyeon got it pretty hard. She’s witnessed the early stages of Jungkook’s infatuation towards you in the first semester of med school, had to keep quiet during study sessions. She was even supportive that time, telling Jungkook to just go for it – but then Eunwoo happened, and the confession never saw the light of day.

When they broke up, Doyeon became hopeful again, just as Jungkook was. But you were showing no signs of moving on and Jungkook had no choice but to step back for a bit.

The past two years, though, Doyeon became more insistent, telling him you’re single and it’s the fattest chance Jungkook can ever get.

But she’s right, after all. Jungkook’s a pussy. He hides his feelings well – a pro at the sport, really, at this point.

When Mingyu happened a few months ago, Doyeon’s just over it. She told Jungkook one time in a drinking session that the ship has sunk and he’s going to be in his sixties regretting not ever confessing to you. Sometimes, he wakes up at night in sweat from a nightmare that involved Doyeon murdering him because of his emotional constipation.

Jungkook knows she just wants the best for him – even though she’s more on showing him tough love instead of a gentle one. Doyeon’s always been like that, but she’s a good friend. When things went haywire, she was there to genuinely sympathize with him and console him – together with Taehyung and some of his other friends.

But in Jungkook’s defense, Doyeon just also doesn’t get it.

It’s so easy to just say fuck it and make a confession already, so easy to think about how things could turn positively – but she’s not – they’re not – in Jungkook’s shoes. They will never be.

So many things could go wrong if he ever were to listen to his heart. Sure, he’s had the chance over the past four years – most would say that. But it’s not a chance when you’ve spent half of it moving on from Eunwoo. It’s not a chance when you spent the other half trying to go on dates and fail – each one making you more miserable about your love life, as you told him so many nights ago in those rare special moments in the balcony of your apartment.

Those four years you were single was never a chance – not when you never showed any bit of interest.

It’s the reality that his friends always somehow miss when encouraging him to confess his feelings.

You’re friends for almost a decade now – eight years to be exact – but not once did you ever hint at wanting to be in a relationship with him. Your reaction to that always involved a disgusted expression and a variation of “No way!”. Might be a joke just to tease him – but also might be rooted in something genuine deep down.

Jungkook likes to think that physically, he doesn’t look so bad. He’s nice when he wants to be, especially towards people he cares about. He’s a resident surgeon who makes enough. Could be funny, charming… whatever.

Most of all, he likes to think he could deserve you one of these days. That he could be the man that you’re searching for.

But it’s been eight years and you’ve never once looked at him like how he surely does at you.

God knows how many times Jungkook has tried to move on – how many sleepless nights he has trying to erase the feeling of so much longing for you. Sometimes, it works, when he’s on his casual dates and hook-up with all those women that thankfully fancied him enough. He momentarily forgets about your laugh and your hair and the crinkles on the sides of your eyes when you smile and your soft hands and your gentle voice – but it cracks when the sex is done and he’s staring at the blank ceiling of his date’s apartment, hating himself for yet again seeing your picture in his memory when he’s buried in somebody else, wishing it was you instead.

It hurts so badly. Especially when you seem to look at everybody else except him. You wanted to weed out someone for you – meanwhile, he’s just right under your nose, and yet you don’t see him. It’s at this point, when you have Mingyu as your boyfriend now, that Jungkook is starting to realize that you don’t see him not because you can’t, but because you choose not to.

Regardless, he knows you love him. Knows you care about him on a deeper level. Would probably sacrifice a bit of your time to tend to him if he needs it. But it’s the kind of love that’s not comparable to the one he has for you. Jungkook’s feelings encompass every single kind of love a human could have for another being – but you only have one kind for him. The platonic kind.

And even though it’s painful to face the reality of that very idea, Jungkook thinks that maybe… just maybe… Mingyu’s actually it.

Mingyu wasn’t exactly a saint the last time Jungkook saw him, but people change and the way you seem so genuinely happy these days tells Jungkook that maybe Mingyu’s another version of himself now – the better one who will never hurt you or make you cry.

Maybe this is what love’s all about. You’re content with seeing them happy, even if it’s not with you.

Jungkook thinks that as he steals a glance at you looking at your phone – most probably playing that landlord game on your phone you’ve been obsessed with the past few weeks – and you’re so beautiful like this. Even when you’re probably running on limited hours of sleep just like him.

Your hair is put up in that tulip hairclip you have a lot of, stray hairs framing some parts of your face. But he sees your features just fine – notes the way they are structured so perfectly it truly awes him that men and women didn’t beg for your attention whenever you went out in public.

Because he would. He did. He does. He always teases you for the purpose of your reaction… because Jungkook likes it when you pay attention to him. So much that it kills him to think that maybe, that attention will die soon as you and Mingyu get closer as another week passes by.

The timer that goes off on your phone snaps Jungkook out of his thoughts, and you look at him with widened eyes.

“Don’t st–”

“It’s my turn now,” Jungkook cuts you off and gently places your legs on the mattress, bringing his own on the soft surface as well.

You jut your bottom lip out – and Jungkook feels himself wanting to give in.

“Five minutes is so quick.” You say, but nonetheless takes his shin to your lap.

Jungkook tries hard to sway the butterflies in his stomach at your touch.

“Favor for a favor, remember?” He teases, lifting one of his foot to your direction.

You pretend to gag. “I hate you.”

Jungkook laughs, quite boisterously. Because he knows you don’t mean it. I hate you basically just means I love you but you’re annoying me right now in your own little dictionary – and he always gets giddy whenever you tell him that – as weird as it may sound.

But Jungkook likes this, though.

Sure, it would be so fucking great if he could just confess and lay out his cards all at once, but the chances of you not taking it well is too big – and even though Jungkook’s usually a risk taker, he couldn’t ever risk you all over his dead body.

He can keep his hurt to himself over you feeling anything but romantic towards him – because if he confesses and you don’t feel the same way, he knows damn well that he’ll lose you completely.

And the thought makes him shudder.

That probably catches your sight, so you ask him about it.

Jungkook tells you it’s the AC.

[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:04am ]

The beating sun feels uncomfortable on Jungkook’s skin, but there’s no way he’s wasting a day like this holed up in the villa he and his friends chipped in to rent. It costed you all a shit ton of money – might as well enjoy every waking day he gets to spend here.

It’s why he decides to goad Taehyung and Nayeon into coming with him along the shore where sun loungers are lined up to accommodate the few visitors who were also at the resort. He tried to convince Doyeon, but she goes straight to sleep as soon as the rooms were assigned.

He gets it – you all did travel by plane instead of car (because that would've taken you twelve hours) and Doyeon gets airsick whenever she rides in a plane. Jungkook also tried to talk you into it, but you said you were just going to lounge about by the pool at the villa and follow after a while.

Your “after awhile” takes about thirty minutes, and Jungkook thinks you’re missing all the fun, especially when Nayeon and Taehyung are starting to strip off their clothes to submerge themselves in the ocean.

With his loaded watergun, he goes straight back to the villa, and it doesn’t take much time to spot you by the terrace, lying down on a sun lounger with your big hat and sunglasses on, a book opened in your hands.

Unsuspecting, you let out a sudden squeal when Jungkook presses the trigger of the toy in his grip, a spring of water meeting your bare legs. Jungkook obviously tries hard to ignore that you’re wearing a flimsy pair of white bikinis. He saw you pack it two days ago… and he remembers taking too long to move on from the image he’s conjured up in his head upon seeing it.

“Jungkook!”

He chuckles at your reaction, poorly hiding the watergun behind him. “What?”

“I’ll kill you.” You seethe, your body coming forward to sit upright, hastily taking your sunnies off so he can see the cute glare on your face.

“What are you going to do? I have this,” He points to his weapon. “Are you challenging me into a hand-to-hand combat?” Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrow.

You groan. Then, you lay back on the lounger again, opening your book, deciding to ignore him.

Jungkook can’t have that, of course. So, he walks closer to your direction, stopping beside you, effectively blocking the sun and in turn, dimming the light source of your book.

“You’re blocking my sun.” You say, looking up at him.

“You’ll get all the sun you want if you haul your ass off to the shore. Come on, we’re all swimming in there,” he tries to convince you, nudging your thigh with his knee.

You give him a pout. You sound whiny when you say, “But it’s too hot.”

“That’s why we’ll get in the water.”

“Don’t be sassy.” You roll your eyes. “I meant the water would be way too hot.”

“It’s not, Nayeon said so.”

You glance at the pool across from you. “Why can’t we all just swim in here?”

Jungkook deadpans. “Because this is a five-foot pool and absolutely no one will enjoy it.”

You frown at him, quietly telling Jungkook he’s right.

“Ugh,” you groan. “But I’ll have to reapply SPF first…” You grab the bottle of lotion that’s just placed on the small table on the side of the lounger. Then you look at him with squinted eyes, “Did you wear sunscreen?”

Jungkook rolls his eyes but nonetheless says yes, knowing how you always nag him about it whenever you guys are at the beach. It’s not even just him. It’s also with your other friends.

He watches as you rub lotion over your body, but when you get to the back, you look up at him and extend the bottle towards his way.

“Can you help me with this, please?” You say.

Jungkook automatically takes the bottle but it takes him a full five seconds to understand what you’re getting at.

You’re asking him to put sunscreen on your back. You’re very naked back that sports nothing but the tiny strings of your bikini holding your chest.

Of course, you don’t notice his dilemma. Twisting in your seat so that your back faces him, you gather your hair to the side, obviously waiting for him to do your request.

But Jungkook’s distracted behind your back. He’s distracted at how smooth it looks under the scorching sun and how easy it would be to paint it with something other than the natural color of your skin.

It’s not even the first time he’ll do this – you’ve been to trips before and putting on sunscreen over your friend is about as natural as it gets like how he would do it as well to Taehyung or even Doyeon or Nayeon if they ask to.

But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect him one bit when it comes to you.

Needless to say, his mind is pre-occupied as he sits down behind you where you left some space for him to sit, squirting the lotion into the palms of his hands, gingerly spreading it over your back once he got it.

“Be sure to cover everything,” you say, obviously not aware about Jungkook’s mental crisis behind your back.

He thinks it’s worth the crisis over though, as you’re so soft under his touch. Jungkook kneads the span of your back, squeezes your waist lightly to even out the cream, and makes sure to put it over your shoulders as well. When his hands fall, he hesitates.

“Should I – uh—”

“Yeah, just go under the strings.” You tell him before he can even finish.

There’s a lump in his throat that he swallows before he goes under the strings of your bikini top, his heart doing funny somersaults against his ribcage as he spreads the lotion over your skin. It guilts him to no end that his mind thinks about how he’s just inches away from your breasts.

He retreats his hand right away. “Done.”

You turn back to him. “Thanks. You want me to do yours?”

“Sure.”

Jungkook sits on the edge of the lounger and lets his back turn to you. He hears the cap of the lotion bottle being opened again and soon your hands are lathering the cream over the expanse of his back.

It’s embarrassing the way he lets himself savor the seconds of your every touch. Embarrassing the way his mind zeroes in on the way your soft hands caress the tendons of his back muscles. He thinks about the weight, how good this feels; your hands on him. Suddenly, there’s a zap of electricity that goes through his spine, and then he feels it.

The twitch in his dick and the blood that he feels rushing to it.

“Okay, you’re done.” You say, tapping his back twice so he can turn to you.

It snaps him out of his thoughts, but his dick is thinking about something else and as he subtly looks down, there’s already a growing semi on the crotch of his trunk shorts.

Jungkook curses himself internally, shutting his eyes close in slight frustration.

Fucking uncooperative dick.

He stands up from the chair when you nudge his back with your foot, thinking that he’d see you coming along in a few seconds. But you don’t, and as he turns his heel to look at you, you’re back in your cozy lying position on the lounger, with your book opened, just like how he saw you when he came in a while ago.

Jungkook parts his lips in disbelief, but also finding the whole thing funny.

“You minx.” He muses, playfully squinting his eyes at you upon realizing the trick you just pulled.

“Enjoy the beach, Jungkook. Send my regards to Taehyung and Nayeon.” You say, giving him a taunting flying kiss. “And thank you for reapplying my sunscreen.”

Jungkook chuckles at your remark, and just like that, he forgets about his stubborn dick, and goes over back to you, blocking your sun once again.

“You’re blocking my sun again— Jungkook!”

It’s predictable the way you hurl a series of creative curses at him as Jungkook forcefully picks you up from the chair, knocking your hat and your book on the ground as he hoists you against his shoulder, carrying you upside down like a sack of potatoes.

“Jungkook, I swear to god!” You squeal, repeatedly slapping his back as he walks to the direction of the shore, but Jungkook’s nothing but a solid muscle, firm over his hold on the back of your legs.

“Be quiet.” He says, chuckling at your sounds of opposition.

“I hate you, you’re such a prick, ugh!”

He picks up his walking pace and you scream again when you see the ocean water from your view.

Jungkook chuckles as you continue to plant your fists on his back, and when the water reaches his knees, he throws you in it.

“Fuck. You!” You say, glaring at Jungkook in the middle of his uncontrollable laughter.

“Come on, Taehyung and Nayeon are over there,” he points to the deeper part of the ocean a few feet from where you are, and when you turn your head, you see Taehyung and Nayeon with their floaties.

“Ugh…” Jungkook hears you groan before you follow behind him. When Jungkook looks back, he sees you paddling around the water like some puppy, and he snickers to himself. That earns him a splash on his way, with you rolling your eyes at him.

“Jungkook! __!” Yells Nayeon over their direction, waving her hand around. Taehyung and her are perched on the big floatie they fought over with at the villa earlier.

“Jungkook,” calls you behind him.

You’re starting to cross the deeper part of the ocean and it’s within Jungkook’s chest now. Meanwhile, your friends are still about a few feet away, so the level would definitely be on his neck by the time. You’re considerably tall, but Jungkook’s still half a head taller than you, so when he looks back at you, the water’s already reached your shoulders.

“This is way too deep!” You complain.

“Don’t be a pussy, __!” Comments Taehyung from afar.

“Fuck off,” you murmur and then beckons Jungkook to you. “Help me a bit here.”

Jungkook shakes his head, chuckling as he moves a few steps back to get to your direction.

“You big baby, you never learned how to swim, have you?” He teases, playfully clicking his tongue.

“What for?” You say when he gets near.

Jungkook feels pleased with himself about you asking for his help to cross the deeper part of the ocean, but he’s met with surprise when you heavily plant your palms on his shoulders, causing him to be out of balance and tripping over his feet under the water.

It causes a misstep and he nearly chokes as he comes back up for air again only to see you laughing your ass off. Nayeon and Taehyung are also laughing along, even from afar, and Jungkook wipes the back of his hand over his eyes to see clearly.

“That’s for throwing me in the water earlier,” you say in between your snickers and Jungkook’s just about to say something back when you suddenly wrap your hands around his neck from the back, your legs locking around his waist. “Carry me to the floatie, pretty please,” you say against his cheek in a sing-song voice.

With that, Jungkook feels your whole entire body against his back, your breasts pressing against his skin. He ignores the way the physical contact makes his body tingle, and he hopes you don’t notice his blush when he raises his arms to hold the back of your legs.

“Only because you’re annoying.” He pretends to sound annoyed, but the laugh that comes out of you at the remark makes him smile anyway.

[ DAY 1 | August 31st, 11:35pm ]

Your daytime activities at the beach included jetskiing – one that knocked Taehyung off the water way too many times that he just gave up halfway through it. When Doyeon woke up a little later in the afternoon, all of you decided to get food from the dining hall and ate your hearts out at the buffet.

The day ended with all of you back in your assigned rooms again. Since you rented a two-bedroom villa, Jungkook’s rooming with Taehyung in the secondary bedroom while Nayeon, Doyeon, and you are all inside the primary one since it’s bigger.

It’s past thirty minutes to eleven in the night when somebody knocks on Jungkook’s shared bedroom with Taehyung. When Jungkook looks at him from across the room, he’s knocked out on the sofa, soft snores coming out from his mouth. Him and Jungkook decided to take turns with the bed itself throughout the whole vacation. There’s an extra cushion Taehyung could’ve laid on the floor, but he was way too tired to set it up and to even care – looks like he doesn’t really need it, though, since he looks so peaceful in his position.

Grumbling, Jungkook gets out from the sheets, scratching his bare chest and rubbing the back of his head as he walks over to the door to open it.

When he does, he’s welcomed by the sight of you in your big grey hoodie and some shorts.

“Wear something.” You say as soon as you take in his appearance.

Jungkook’s habit of going to sleep with only his boxers knows no bounds. Even when it’s below 20 degrees Celsius outside, he always opts out of his pajamas, choosing to go bare in his sheets instead. In his defense for now, the duvet is thick and it provided him with enough protection against the cold of the AC and the summer night.

“What are you doing here?” He says as he trudges back inside the room to wear a pair of sweatpants hanging from the chair.

“Rude.” You comment, following him in the room. You look at Taehyung’s passed out state in the couch. “He’s going to wake up in the evening tomorrow and miss your birthday.”

That makes Jungkook smirk, remembering Taehyung’s high energy in the morning.

“No consequences. It’s vacation week.” Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “Seriously, what brought you here? It’s almost midnight.”

You sit on the edge of the bed. That’s when Jungkook notices the black plastic you’re carrying in your hand. “It’s not that late. Let’s head out for a bit.”

He raises a brow, confused. “Where to?”

“You’re going to find out. Wear a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside.” You say as you stand up from the bed again, heading for the door.

Jungkook’s confusion just grows with passing seconds. Nonetheless, he can’t say he’s not intrigued.

Unsure, he goes for his small luggage and takes out the only hoodie he packed. It’s grey as well, matching the one you have on. Jungkook tries to shake that thought off his head as you both quietly head out of the room.

It’s late into the night and when you head out of the villa, there’s not many people hanging along the shore anymore.

“Follow me,” you tell him, and Jungkook does.

It may have been his drowsiness that kept him quiet throughout the whole walk – just quietly following along with you, your rented villa no longer in his line of sight. Jungkook couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you currently are, but this side of the beach is a bit rocky, and much, much colder. He feels it even through the thick material of his hoodie.

“We’re here.” You announce, a proud lilt to your voice. Jungkook bumps with your back when you suddenly stop on your tracks. It prompts a chuckle from you, turning back to him so Jungkook sees the crinkles on the sides of your eyes as you do so.

It makes his lips curl. “What’s this?” He curiously asks, looking around.

Your grin grows wider. “We’re gonna take those stairs and it’s gonna lead us to some pretty view.” Jungkook looks to the direction you pointed at, seeing the stairs you just referred to. Still unsure, he glances back at you. You laugh. “You remember when Doyeon and I went out for a walk earlier for a bit? We found this place.”

Jungkook nods. “I see. Thought for a second there you found a place to dispose my body at.”

You snort as you take Jungkook’s wrist to hold on to as you climb to the stairs.

“I won’t do it as such a public place.”

“So, you really are thinking about it in the first place.” Jungkook nods his head, guiding your back up the jagged stairs. You manage to get to the smoother surface and Jungkook’s quick to follow you towards the straight path of the narrow walkway.

“It’s my favorite past time, really.” You look back at him cheekily, a playful grin painting your lips. Jungkook scoffs.

The hallway is colonnaded with some flags, and there’s an edge where the concrete stops, the ocean water splashing against the big rocks beneath the broken bridge.

You set aside the black plastic you’ve been carrying around and Jungkook realizes they’re Smirnoffs. Sitting on the concrete, you let your feet hang on the edge.

“Hey, be careful,” Jungkook comments as he sees you do that. This part of the ocean isn’t necessarily far – where you were earlier when you were swimming was far deeper, but still, it could be dangerous if you make a mistake. Jungkook wonders what the designers of the beach thought about when they made this plan.

“Come on, don’t be fussy. Sit here with me.” You say, patting the space beside you.

Jungkook follows, of course, and you scoot to the side a little to give him more room.

“It’s nice, right,” You look at him, cocking your head to the side.

Jungkook feels the breeze of cool wind passing, and it’s a bit strong that it moves his fringes and yours as well. You put your hair up as usual in that big metal clip you always wear, but some strands of your hair escape and they frame your face.

With your big hoodie on and smile, Jungkook thinks you look extra cozy. He may have been hot and bothered by your bikini ensemble earlier, but now he’s bothered for another reason. He can’t stop thinking about cuddling you under the night sky full of stars at the very moment.

“Feels good.” Jungkook comments. He plants his palms on the hard surface of the concrete behind him, leaning back as he looks to your side. “You wanted to drink here?”

“Oh, yeah,” You say, twisting your body a little to pick up the plastic cellophane. You take out two bottles of Smirnoffs and offer one to him which he gladly takes. Taking a bottle opener out, you’re about to open your drinks when Jungkook offers to do it for the both of you. You don’t protest, just let him do his thing, smiling when he hands you your Smirnoff.

“This is really nice.” Jungkook sighs after he takes the first sip, looking straight ahead to the mountainous view in front of you.

You hum, seemingly enjoying the moment as well. Jungkook takes a quick glance at your side profile and then quickly looks back ahead when he feels you do the same.

“Why’d you bring me here?” He asks.

“Nothing. I couldn’t sleep, and I thought I could bring you here. So.” You shrug.

Jungkook nods.

“I’m turning thirty-one tomorrow. Or, in an hour, actually.” He says, automatically looking at his wrist but then realizing he took off his watch and left it at the bedside table. He didn’t take his phone with him either.

“I know. You’re so old now.” You tell him with a teasing tone in your words.

“Fuck off,” he snorts. “I’m only a year older than you.”

“Hmm… still old. Imagine, you turn fifty, I would still be forty-nine.”

Jungkook laughs at that.

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, babe.” He lets the pet name slip, and he did not mean to. It just rolled off his tongue for some reason. Quite easily, too.

You don’t seem to care – or even notice – as you chuckle.

There’s a comfortable silence that hangs in the air again when Jungkook decides to break it.

“Hey, I really appreciate you for coming along. You and the gang, really. This is a really good trip so far.”

You give him a smile as you look at him. It’s one of those pretty ones that are a bit small but there’s a certain shine to your eyes and Jungkook just really loves looking at you with a smile on your face. You’re so pretty, he thinks he’s so lucky to even get the chance to look at you.

“You know we all need this trip, right? I think it’s all our first time vacationing in two years.”

He nods, chuckling to himself. It’s true. The last time was the Thailand trip and it felt like eons ago. Being a resident surgeon means less free time for leisure – and so you always make sure to spend your days off wisely. Even this trip took a lot of pre-planning to be possible just so all of your schedules would match.

“It’s crazy, though…” you say suddenly.

Jungkook cocks a brow at you. “What’s crazy?”

“That we’ve known each other for like – what? Eight years?”

Eight years and four months to be exact. Jungkook’s not keeping count – he just will never forget the exact moment he met you for the very first time.

It’s truly one of his core memories – knowing you. He remembers having to pass by the law library to meet Jimin – one of his closest friends who was studying law at the same grad school as him at the time. They were planning to eat out for lunch, but then he saw a woman at the individual study areas with a reading material that’s familiar with his. Netter’s Atlas of Human Anatomy. You wore that maroon hairclip you loved so much during first year (Jungkook remembers you losing it in the second semester and how he bought you another one in your birthday), and when you looked up from your book for awhile, taking a break from taking notes on your iPad, that was when Jungkook saw your face and he nearly falls over back then.

It’s common knowledge among your mutual friends and acquaintances that you’re pretty. It’s the first thing that Jungkook noticed about you, the reason why he harbored an instant crush. That pretty much turned into… well – something deeper as the years passed by and he got to know you more than just your beautiful physical appearance.

He found it strange at the time to find somebody who was obviously a med student studying at the law library, but he soon found out it was because you didn’t like studying at the med lib, said you felt too much pressure being among your fellow med students. Jungkook understood that in a spiritual level, and so when you became friends, you studied a lot at the law lib, until you met Doyeon and she formed a study group. It wasn’t long before Taehyung joined the equation.

Looking back at it, Jungkook thinks it’s surreal. How knowing you led to him knowing more people that would soon be important in his life up until the age of thirty-one.

“Almost a decade.” He says, can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Right? It feels so surreal sometimes that we all knew each other at, like, twenty-three and twenty two. And now we’re in our thirties.”

“When you put it like that…” Jungkook trails off, laughing at how young you actually were eight years ago.

“Yeah, I know!” You giggle. You look ahead, then you laugh again to yourself. Jungkook looks at you in confusion, giving you a questioning look at your sudden burst of laughter. Looking at him, you shake your head, “This is a bit of a TMI, but I was twenty-two when I entered med school, so I just lost my virginity three years ago. You know what’s funny? I’ve always thought I would lose my virginity, at like, thirty. Or twenty-seven. But that was even way too early for me.”

Jungkook almost splutters at the way you casually bring it up. He takes the bottle of Smirnoff away from him and looks at you with a chuckle. “Losing your virginity at nineteen is common.”

“Well, did you? Lose yours at nineteen?” You arch a brow.

“Nope.” Jungkook shakes his head, tipping his head back to drink again.

“Younger?” You ask again.

Jungkook chuckles at your curiosity. Much to your surprise, he shakes his head again. “Nah. Junior year. I just turned twenty-one. Lost it with my first girlfriend.”

Your lips part and Jungkook meets your shocked stare, brow cocked upwards.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“What? No, I’m not.” He laughs. He gets your surprise, though. Taehyung couldn’t believe it either when it came up in a random conversation.

You still look incredulous as you say, “You mean, like you never dated until junior year of undergrad?”

Jungkook shakes his head once again. “Yes, and no…? I mean, I had a… sort of girlfriend? Back in highschool, yeah, but it was more of like a mutual crush thing rather than an official relationship. But yeah, never dated and never had sex ‘til I found my first girlfriend in third year.”

You look at him suspiciously still, and Jungkook can’t help but laugh even more at your reaction.

“I really don’t believe you.”

“What’s so surprising about that?” Jungkook knows the answer, though. He sleeps around, and you know that. It’s probably why you can’t believe he’s only started having sex until third year of college.

You’re quiet for a bit.

“So… you and that girlfriend broke up, and then…” you trail off, letting him finish the pieces.

Jungkook chuckles, recalling some memories that he thought were already hidden well at the back of his head.

Jiyeon. Her name was Park Jiyeon, his first girlfriend. He was the one who ended things – and not because he didn’t have feelings for her. It was the other way around.

“Yeah,” Jungkook fills in. “Didn’t date seriously after that.”

“Uh… was it a bad break-up?” You say, and there’s hesitance in your voice. When Jungkook looks at you, you open your mouth to take your question back, probably, but Jungkook just gives you a warm smile.

“Yeah. It was bad. But I don’t really think about it now.”

You nod. “I see.” You say, looking ahead at the ocean again. “You dated… quite seriously again in our last year of med school, though.”

“Sora?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook nods, remembering the only one-year relationship he had. Min Sora was a fashion magazine director at the time. Jungkook liked her as she did, but they had too many differences that lead to too many arguments. Sora ended things before the relationship dragged out. Jungkook was grateful for it. They’re casual as of now… good friends, maybe?

“I always wondered why she broke up with you.” You say quietly.

Jungkook doesn’t expect that. “You wondered about that?”

“Yeah. I mean, you seemed like you were both really into each other, so I just thought… you know,” you shrug.

“Ah. That,” Jungkook looks afar, recalling the day when she ended things with him. It had been because of the stress that the last year of med school brought – he likes to think that. But it was also during the time when Eunwoo proposed to you and what he thought was feelings forgotten for you came back resurfacing and Sora just… figured him out. She told him he loved you, and she’s got no spare time to compete with that. Denying it at the time was futile – Sora was smart. A wise, independent woman. She ended the relationship herself before she got deeply hurt. Jungkook has always felt sorry about how things turned out. No, he doesn’t regret the break-up – just regrets the way he hurt her – unintentionally – even though she didn’t show it.  “Just didn’t work out, I guess.”

You nod again.

Silence sits in the air.

It feels a little strange to talk about these things now. It’s not that you both never share these aspects about your lives to each other, but it’s the first time you ask him about Sora. He never really bothered to share, though, for the record.

From his periphery, he sees you taking your phone out from your pocket, then gasping.

Jungkook immediately looks at you to see what’s wrong. You show him your phone and he notes nothing of significance first before you say, “It’s 12:01 am. It’s September first!”

“Oh.”

“Happy birthday, Kook.” You say, smiling at him, and it’s an underestimation for Jungkook to say he nearly gets blinded by it. You look so gorgeous in your happy smile, so genuine, so warm, so cozy in your big grey hoodie.

Jungkook wants so bad to plant his lips on yours right then and there, but he reminds himself that he can’t do that. He reminds himself that you’re taken. That you like somebody else. The somebody else arriving tomorrow, as per your words earlier this day when he asked about Mingyu.

Still, it doesn’t stop Jungkook from mirroring your smile.

“Thank you.”

“And, before I forget,” you stuff your hands in the pocket of your hoodie and Jungkook watches as you take out a small rectangular box. As he pays you a glance, you’re a little bit shy, not looking straight into his eyes as you say, “Uh. I saw this somewhere, and I thought you’d like it.”

You extend your hand to him and Jungkook lets go of his beer to take the velvety green box from you.

He feels jittery as he takes it in, caresses the ribbon first before opening it altogether.

What’s inside surprises him.

“It didn’t cost much so don’t throw it away,” you say, uncharacteristically defensive. Jungkook can’t see your expression, but he bets your thoughts are going haywire as it takes him awhile to say anything about your gift. You always get nervous when it comes to gifts. “... and anyway, it’s not even my real gift. My real gift is a hairdryer, so I’m sure you’re gonna like that better. But it’s cute, right? You can hang it in your keyholder or something—”

“__,” Jungkook cuts you off, his eyes still on the keyring laying on the box. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Y-yeah. It’s… uh… cute, right? I thought it was cute.” You say, and when Jungkook looks at you, he sees the adorable way your brows furrow.

He chuckles, looking at the keyring again. It’s a silver Claddagh.

“Do you know what this means?” Jungkook asks.

“The what?”

Jungkook points to the Claddagh. “This symbol.”

You look away as you say, “No, not really. I just thought it’s a cool keychain. You told me you like keychains, but I don’t ever see you with a keychain. So.”

With your nostrils flaring a little, he knows you’re lying. You definitely know what the Claddagh symbol means.

But instead of goading you about it, Jungkook takes the keyring out of the box and hangs it over his finger, admiring the item.

“Thank you. This is really cute, and I love it.” Jungkook tells you, giving you a soft smile.

You stare at him and then cave into a smile of your own. “I’m glad you do.”

Jungkook looks at the Claddagh again and smiles heartily.

His heart aches with so much yearning and longing when you go back to the villa that night, spending about three minutes staring at the Claddagh you gifted him that he immediately hangs in his key holder. Jungkook thinks he’s going to transfer it to his work bag or the back of his rearview mirror, but his keyholder would do for now.

You love him alright, certainly not the way he does, but it’s enough for him.

[ DAY 2 | September 1st, 11:55pm ]

It was not a secret among Nayeon, Doyeon, and Taehyung that Jungkook’s mood considerably plummeted down as soon as Mingyu called you early in the morning that he’d be landing in the afternoon.

Afternoon came, and he tried to suck it up like a grown man – and because as far as you know, they’re both friends. And Mingyu’s your boyfriend. He should be nothing but supportive.

But it was especially hard when you gushed about being excited that he was finally here. It’s been four months since you started seeing each other, two months since you officially dated, but somehow, Jungkook still could not process it.

He knows he’s being unfair. To you and to himself. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help the feeling of ugly bitterness that sat in his heart as you told him about how Mingyu rented another villa so you both could room together, effectively taking you away from the rest of your friends.

Of course, you all spent his birthday together – doing tons of water activities in the ocean, eating at the dining hall, and roaming around for some more leisure time, but Jungkook could not help but think that ever since Mingyu’s arrived, you’ve been sticking with him, even taking the time away from the gang to show your boyfriend around the resort.

Even at the villa’s porch where all of you took out your foldable chairs to drink outside, you were with Mingyu, perched on his lap, laughing at the jokes getting thrown around in the circle.

He tried not to look too much at how Mingyu comfortably wrapped one arm around your waist while the other held a drink, how you leaned into his touch, and how easily he blended with the group with his charm.

“Where’d you get the ice cream?” Doyeon asked as Taehyung sat down on his chair with a small bowl of the sweet treat.

“Fridge. Nayeon and I bought it earlier.”

“There’s ice cream?” Mingyu asked, in which Taehyung nodded to. He turned to you. “Do you want it?”

Jungkook’s brows furrowed in confusion. “__’s lactose intolerant.” He noticed everybody suddenly looking at him. Feeling cornered, he drank from his beer to avoid their gazes.

Mingyu, obviously surprised by the declaration, glanced back at you. “Baby, you didn’t tell me that?”

You winced. “It’s not really a big deal.” you waved him off and when you laugh.

“Yeah, she’s stubborn about it. She can inhale five cones in one sitting.” Taehyung said which made everybody laugh. Jungkook knew it was to lighten the mood. So, he laughed as well, even though from his periphery, he could see you giving him daggers through your eyes.

Jungkook doesn’t know why you had to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Sure, Taehyung’s right about you not taking your lactose intolerance seriously sometimes, but you’ve also gotten into a lot of trouble because of it, hence why you’ve been making conscious efforts to not eat dairy.

The whole day leaves a sour impression on him with Mingyu around. Quite a shame, really, since he started his birthday so well with you taking him to the far-end of the beach to drink and give him a Claddagh.

When the night becomes much darker, Jungkook sits on the terrace near the pool all by himself. Everybody’s fast asleep at this point. He doesn’t know about you, though, ‘cause you’ve probably transferred all your stuff to the other villa Mingyu rented around.

“Hey,”

Jungkook looks at the embodied voice that suddenly calls. He sees it’s Doyeon.

“Hey,” Jungkook smiles, taking the other bottle of beer on the coffee table and offering it to her.

She waves his hand. “Nah, I’ve had enough for the whole day.” Doyeon situates herself on the folding chair next to Jungkook.

Jungkook nods, looking straight ahead to the pool. They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Doyeon speaks.

“Hey, I’m sorry for the last week,”

Jungkook glances at her with a small smile. “What for?”

“For calling you a pussy. And just… being harsh. Had a tough week and your emotional constipation just pissed me off more. You’re still a pussy, but I shouldn’t have rubbed it off your face.” She says.

Jungkook stares at her with parted lips.

“Wow. I don’t know if that’s an actual apology.”

“It’s an apology with a hundred percent realness, you know I don’t baby anybody.”

“Hah,” Jungkook scoffs, amused. “Yeah. Well, you’re right, though. Today’s been…”

Doyeon sighs. “It’s hard on you, right?”

Jungkook can only give her a meaningful smile.

“But you don’t exactly have the right to get jealous… she’s not your girlfriend and you two are not anything,” Doyeon says, and it tugs at Jungkook’s heartstrings. Meanwhile, she looks ahead and continues to speak. “It’s hard when you have all these feelings for someone, but you have to hide it. You just want to show everybody they mean so much to you, but you can’t. It sucks.”

Jungkook thinks she’s still talking about his situation with you but then as he glances at her, she seems to be deep in thought. As if she’s actually speaking from her own experience.

He’s intrigued by that, of course.

“Woah, are you still talking about me?”

That seems to get Doyeon out of her trance.

She rolls his eyes. “Who else would I be talking about?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something. You guys have always had the theory that Doyeon has a secret boyfriend. It’s silly at best but sometimes, he thinks it’s true. Doyeon has never been the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, though. She’s tough and she’s frank a lot of times. But she’s the kind of friend who’d call you a bitch in your face but then would go to all the lengths to defend you from everybody.

“Okay.” Jungkook nods, dropping the subject.

“Has she told you yet?” Doyeon asks suddenly.

“What?” He mirrors back, knowing exactly who the she Doyeon’s referring to.

“She’s planning to move in with him some of these days.”

“I…” Jungkook stops, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in water. To say that he’s stunned is an understatement. Obviously, you haven’t told him anything.

“You don’t know.” Doyeon says upon realization.

Jungkook shakes his head. “She didn’t tell me.”

Doyeon lets out a loud sigh. “It’s not really set in stone, though, that’s what she said. But they’re discussing it.”

“Ah.” Jungkook nods and looks ahead at the pool. Another beat of silence, a sip of beer, and then he scoffs. “I really should’ve confessed even way back then, huh?” He laughs but there’s no humor in it.

Doyeon stares at him. “I didn’t tell you about that so you can regret not telling your feelings for her earlier.”

“I didn’t—”

“I told you that so you can move on, Jungkook.”

Jungkook closes his mouth shut.

She looks away. “You remember the time I liked you in med school?”

“Doyeon…” Jungkook’s lips part, not at all expecting for her to bring that up. It’s been so long ago and ever since… Doyeon’s confession, they never really talked about it again.

“Oh my god, look at your face,” She laughs. “God, do you think I still like you? I moved on the day after you rejected me.”

“I didn’t reject you.” Jungkook defensively says.

She rolls her eyes. “I asked you if you were interested and you didn’t say anything. You just looked at me like this,” Doyeon stiffens her body and widens her eyes in a comical rendition of Jungkook’s famous OJO face.

Jungkook can’t help but scoff. “That was the strangest confession that happened to me, though. You told me you liked me in the straightest face ever, I still think it was a cruel prank of some sort.”

Doyeon bursts into laughter, and Jungkook follows along, recalling that time.

“Yeah… that was funny. But… it was real, not a prank at all. I don’t remember why I liked you, though.”

Jungkook looks at her incredulously. “Okay, but that’s actually the most hurtful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips still. “Anyway, I brought it up because that was the same day when I realized you like __. I mean, I had my suspicions, but I confirmed it around the time.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Was really surprised when you told me that. I thought I hid it pretty well.”

“Yeah, but not to me. You know, I don’t even know how __ didn’t figure it out herself. You’d always follow her around and in our study sessions, you always stayed up late with her and was overly attentive. Whenever Taehyung asked you too much, you sort of like reached a point where you just told him to suck it up. But if it was __, you were so patient,” Doyeon giggles. “She had a really hard time with Biochem. I remember you tutoring her all the time.”

“That was…” Jungkook bows his head down, a bit embarrassed at being read like that. “She cried a lot during first year.”

Doyeon purses her lips. “Yeah…”

Both stare ahead again, with nothing to say for a few more seconds. Jungkook continues to sip his bear while Doyeon quietly sits.

“I have this biased notion about Mingyu,” Doyeon speaks up. Jungkook looks at her she continues, “I keep on telling myself, he’s probably gonna fuck up anytime soon – and that’s because deep inside, I still want you and __ together. You know I’ve always wanted you both to be together. It’s hard to see __ struggling with her love life. She almost failed the internship when Eunwoo broke up with her, and I don’t want her to go through that again as her friend. It’s hard, because I can’t do anything about it. I think of you, and how much you love her, and I think you’re good for her… but at the same time, I feel bad for thinking that. Because I can see that Mingyu makes her happy. It’s different with the other guys she dated before him. She’s truly happy with him, and I find it hard to think that Mingyu’s gonna break her heart. He seems… nice… and that he’d be good for her, you know what I mean?”

Jungkook’s quiet, processing her words.

Doyeon sighs before she speaks again. “But that hurts you in the process, doesn’t it? Seeing her happy but not with you. You’re both my friends and I’m in the position where it’s hard for me to situate myself in a certain place. Because I want __ to be happy, but I also want you to be happy – but your happiness is interconnected and it’s… tricky. It’s a tricky situation.”

Jungkook doesn’t realize that he’s gripping the neck of the bottle quite tightly at Doyeon’s words, but he listens.

“I don’t normally say things like this, Jungkook, but I’m your friend so I’m just gonna let this go,” Doyeon finally looks at him, and he meets her gaze. “It hurts me to see you hurting like this. It hurts Taehyung and Nayeon as well, but they won’t say it. Just… just be… just be okay, please?”

Jungkook exhales a sharp, shaky breath.

He knows what Doyeon meant by that. She’s asking him to… find happiness on his own. Happiness that doesn’t lie on __’s reciprocity because with the way things are going, that’s impossible. She’s planning to move in with Mingyu, and most of all, she seems genuinely happy.

“I… I know. Thank you.” Jungkook says, not really knowing what to say.

Doyeon chuckles. “Do you want a hug?”

He looks at her with a smile. “I could use one right now, yeah.”

Doyeon laughs before standing up and going over to where Jungkook sits on his own sun chair. When she steps in front of him, Jungkook wraps his arms around her waist and lets himself rest the side of his head on her stomach, closing his eyes when Doyeon pats the crown of his head.

“Belated happy birthday, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Thanks. You’re unusually mushy today.”

Doyeon pinches his ear slightly which earns her a groan.

The two stay like that for a few more seconds when suddenly, Jungkook hears a familiar voice.

“Oh, h-hey guys,”

Jungkook immediately looks ahead to see you standing from the other side of the terrace, looking at him and Doyeon. At that, Doyeon lets go of him, twisting her body to look in your direction. Jungkook retreats his arms back to his side and smiles to acknowledge you.

“I thought you were sleeping already.” He says.

“Yeah, what brought you here?” Doyeon asks.

You approach them with unusually slow steps, as if reluctant. “Left my wallet here. Just realized it a while ago,” you say. After that, you stop on your tracks. Your gaze falls between them with an unsure smile on your face. “You two drinking?”

“Nah, Jungkook is.” Doyeon says, pointing to the bottle of Smirnoffs on the small table beside Jungkook’s chair. Then, she looks under her own. “Where’d you leave your wallet?”

“Over my chair earlier.” You give her a smile again. But somehow, it looks a bit awkward. A little forced. Jungkook knows you well enough to identify your smiles.

And as he looks at you longer, he realizes you have a certain color on your face, but it’s one of those expressions he can’t read.

“Well,” you blurt out after a beat of silence. Looking around, you go over to where you were sitting earlier then duck. “I think I left it here…” you trail off. Jungkook’s just about to stand up to help as well when you suddenly pull up a brown leather, grinning at both of them. “Yay.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That would’ve been the third wallet you’ll lose this year.”

You mirror his laughter, and Doyeon joins in.

There’s another pause and then hesitantly, you ask, “Did I… uh… disturb something? Or…”

“What?” Doyeon asks with furrowed brows. “No,”

“Ah, okay,” you smile at her and then insert your wallet in your shorts. “Anyway, I’m heading back to Mingyu. The villa he rented is just at the back of ours, so… feel free to visit anytime or whatever.”

“Sure.” Jungkook says. He didn’t mean it to sound clipped and short but he must have unintentionally let the tone slip, as you and Doyeon immediately give him a look. He clears his throat. “I mean, of course. Tomorrow?”

You nod.

You look at him. And then, you point between him and Nayeon. “Are you two staying up here late?”

“Nah, I’m heading to bed actually.” Doyeon says, picking up her phone from the sun lounger.

“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook puts the beer to the coffee table and stands up.

You nod. “Okay, then. Well, good night to you two.”

“Alright, good night. I’ll head out first.” Doyeon says before disappearing into the sliding door that leads straight to the villa’s living room.

You soon turn your heels back to head out as well, but Jungkook calls after you. Turning around, you hum, acknowledging him. “Hm?”

“Good night, stinky.”

You deadpan. “Night, fucker.”

Jungkook laughs, watching your retreating back as you leave.

[ DAY 4 | September 3rd , 3:05 am ]

Jungkook likes to work out when he has a lot in his mind. But sometimes, he opts for jogging or walking around to clear his head.

With the turn of events since Mingyu’s arrival and Doyeon informing him about your plans on furthering your relationship with Mingyu, he finds himself along by the shore at three am with high hopes to clear his mind. It doesn’t give the solution, but it temporarily does the job.

Inserting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, he looks ahead at the view of the ocean, trying so hard to shut his head down with overbearing thoughts of you. It’s no use, though, it’s always filled with thoughts of you and you alone.

Jungkook thinks about the time in med school when he thought he was completely over you. It had been after you made it official with Eunwoo two months into seeing him. He thought it would be a “bigger person” thing to do, moving on, that is, after you announced that you got a boyfriend – but then later on, when he slept with other women or had his casual dates, you suddenly popped up in his head randomly, and his heart suddenly ached when Eunwoo would drop by the university to fetch you. He felt ugly bitterness when you smiled too much whenever Eunwoo was brought up in the conversation. He found himself wishing it was him instead – the guy you thought of buying shirts for, the guy you randomly thought of when you saw something at the mall or the park, or the guy you called when you needed anything.

It was that spring break in second year when he realized that he loved you, after trying hard to brush his feelings off for you as a mere infatuation because you were gorgeous and smart.

He finds himself thinking about the time when he almost let out his heart when you had a fall-out with Eunwoo during your third year. Thinks about how pathetic he was for thinking that he finally had the chance. It had been when you called him at midnight, crying onto the phone as you asked him if he wasn’t busy. Jungkook had been studying for a Clinical Skill Assessment at that time, but he’d have been a fool to make you feel lonely when you already seemed like you were not fine. So, he had set aside his studying that night and went right over to your place. You told him about how Eunwoo was going cold, how Eunwoo was getting too close to the senior architect at his firm which you’d been having huge arguments about during those days – Jungkook remembered feeling broken at the sight of you crying, could feel himself building up hatred for the guy who was fucking up his chance with the woman he did not deserve. He thought about how he would never do that to you, thought about how he could be better for you – the envy bubbling inside his heart too big to ignore.

Jungkook remembered thinking how he would never fuck up any chances with you, and how Eunwoo was a fucking idiot for even making you feel that way.

That night, he almost kissed you. And the day after that, you avoided him like the plague.

Doyeon told him he was just as much of a big fucking idiot as Eunwoo for doing that. And Jungkook remembered regretting that night, and swearing off to never, ever make a move on you ever again because your avoidance of him made him feel like the biggest fucking piece of shit to ever exist on Earth.

He remembers you didn’t talk to him for about a month. And he remembers fearing that that was finally it.  

Of course, you made up – you’re still in his life. You let him still be in your life even though he betrayed your trust. The trust that lies on the fact that he was your best friend. Someone who was not supposed to take advantage of your vulnerability, someone who did not suddenly try to kiss you when you were at your worst.

It was a memory you two weren’t fond of. Heck, you’ve never ever brought it up not even once since it happened. When you finally talked to him again after that, you did not let him apologize for what he did – just shut him down by saying that you two should just forget about it and never mention it again. You made it clear that you did not want to talk about it – not at all, not in a million years.

Again, Jungkook has had a million attempts to move on. Especially when you got back together with Eunwoo. He did temporarily, when Sora came into the picture. He genuinely did like her, even more than his first girlfriend in college, and he thought he could eventually love her the same way he does you, but Eunwoo suddenly proposed… and his defense came crumbling down. The fear of losing you once again was too overwhelming that he ruined the relationship with Sora because admittedly, he had always been pathetic like that.

Even now that you’re with Mingyu, he’s still pathetic. He still thinks that one day, you can finally look at him. Like, really look at him and feel anything but friendly towards him. It’s extremely pathetic that he keeps on telling himself that your friendship will be enough, but then deep down, it’s not.

Jungkook shuts his eyes close when he feels the cool breeze of the wind hitting his skin under the hoodie. He lets himself stand there for a while, just trying to bask in the surroundings, ignoring the heavy feeling that sits in his heart.

But then he smells a sudden waft of smoke, and he knits his brows as he opens his eyes back again, turning to the direction of the smell.

When he turns back, he sees a familiar figure of a man.

“Mingyu?”

Mingyu glances back at him with the same surprised look on his face, but it disappears just as quickly. Pinching the cigarette between his fingers, he blows smoke in the air and inserts one hand in his shorts.

“Jeon.”

“Still Jeon to you, huh?” Jungkook sneers, walking over to where Mingyu is. “Why are you here?”

Mingyu arches a brow. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Woke up a few minutes ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Taking a hit of his cigarette again, Mingyu shakes his head. “That’s tough.”

“Same with you?” Jungkook asks.

“Nah. Had a discussion with my girlfriend. Just wanted to clear my head.”

Jungkook nods, not saying anything to that. It’s weird that you’ve been fighting a lot lately. He wonders if you’re okay.

Pulling out a pack of Marlboro and a lighter, Mingyu extends them to Jungkook.

He looks down at it and thinks about how this exact thing happened in college. Mingyu always had the pack of cigarettes and the link to the best weed man in college. He used to think they would be fond memories.

But Jungkook shakes his head, looking ahead.

“I quit years ago.” He says. And it is true. He wasn’t much of a smoker and only did it occasionally when he was extremely stressed, but it took him awhile to stop the habit completely, only dropping the cigarettes during second year of med school. Jungkook would say it was due to his own concern about his health – but there was an incident in the same year where you caught him smoking at the uni’s park after a particularly taxing exam, and how you did not hesitate to tell him that you hated – absolutely abhorred – smokers. You said you didn’t care if he smoked, but as a med student he should’ve known better.

He never touched that shit again.

“Changing your ways now?” Mingyu says with a teasing – more like mocking – tone, inserting the pack and lighter back in his pants.

Jungkook shrugs at that, which earns him a scoff from Mingyu.

“Do you smoke around her?” Jungkook suddenly asks.

“Who?”

“__.”

A beat of silence. And then Mingyu laughs.

“No. She doesn’t know I smoke. She doesn’t have to.”

Good. Jungkook thinks. Good that he doesn’t smoke around her. But what did he mean by saying she doesn’t need to know?

“She doesn’t like smokers, you know.” Jungkook tells him.

From his periphery, Jungkook sees Mingyu glancing at him. It takes a while for him to say something.

“You’d know that, huh?”

The dip in his tone makes Jungkook meet his gaze. Suddenly, the smirk on Mingyu’s face is gone, and there’s something behind his eyes that he can’t quite put a finger on.

Jungkook tries to ignore that. “I’ve known her for a long time. The others can also tell you that.” He says, referring to the rest of your friends on the trip.

“You think I don’t know?”

With furrowed brows and growing confusion, Jungkook stares at Mingyu.

“What?”

“That you like my girlfriend.” Mingyu spits the words out like venom in his mouth, but it’s in a way that tells him it’s been sitting with him for far too long. Jungkook’s surprised at the declaration, feels himself being taken aback by the blunt way he said it as if he’s so sure.

But Jungkook doubles down, to Mingyu’s surprise.

“So?”

That obviously wasn’t the answer the other man wanted to hear. So, what? He can dish it, but he can’t take it?

“You’re goddamn pathetic, then.” Mingyu says after awhile, taking a hit on his cigarette again.

It itches the bubbling anger Jungkook has had for him for the past ten years.

“I like __, and I’m not gonna deny that to you,” Jungkook faces him. “But you don’t have to worry about that, because unlike you, I have enough self-respect to not sleep with my friend’s girlfriend.”

It’s another response that Mingyu does not expect. Jungkook also did not mean to let that out. But his tongue glided with the words and he couldn’t help it. Suddenly, memories of junior year in undergrad comes back flashing to him; Jiyeon and Mingyu, fucking in his goddamn bed, his girlfriend cheating on him with his best friend.

Jungkook’s already moved on from that. Jiyeon was not a loss, even though she was his first girlfriend – heck, first love even, but she cheated on him. And not just with anybody but his best friend at the time. The worst thing was that Mingyu was completely in on it, and Jungkook doesn’t think he ever felt remorse about what happened back then. Mingyu gave him a half-assed apology the day he walked in on them, even had the gall to “explain” Jiyeon’s side, that apparently, she just wasn’t “feeling it” with Jungkook anymore, and that Mingyu and her had been hitting it off. Jungkook realized it was why Mingyu suddenly came over way too often over at his apartment.

It’s exactly why he never bothered to meet with Mingyu after graduation. Why he was not enthusiastic meeting him at the engagement party.

But that happened so many years ago that he thought Mingyu’s changed. He didn’t want to burst your bubble and tell you what happened between them back then because he’d be the one to ruin the happiness you’ve wished for all these years.

“I see you’re still hung up on that.” Mingyu says after a while. He throws the cigarette away and steps on it with his heel.

Jungkook’s jaw ticks in what he feels is growing rage. “I’ve moved on. I’m just letting you know that even though I like __, I’m never doing what you did back then.”

“You’re such good guy, then?”

“If not cheating makes me a good guy, then maybe I am.” Jungkook shrugs.

“Jiyeon was a bitch. She was never gonna be good for you.” Mingyu suddenly says.

It makes Jungkook seethe. “And so you fucked her?”

“She liked me better than you. Women always liked me more, that’s why I was going through them while your goody-two shoes virgin prude ass was daydreaming about dating to marry.  You remember that, right?” Mingyu looks at him with a mocking stare. “And Jiyeon was smoking hot. She offered, I just delivered. Said you couldn’t make her cum properly. We could have shared her, you know?”

“Fuck you.” Jungkook spits out. He feels enraged and pissed and disgusted all at the same time.

“Are you getting mad?” Mingyu levels him with an infuriating smirk. “You always got a stick up in your ass, Jeon. Kyungmi told me you’re just a regular playboy these days, said it was the effect of your first girlfriend cheating on you. Right now, though, is that just a front to hide your feelings from my girlfriend? A pathetic boy best friend just wanting to be noticed by his hot girl best friend? You play that role so well. Telling me she’s lactose intolerant, she doesn’t like smokers… you want to fuck her so bad it’s laughable because you know you can’t.”

“Don’t… fucking talk about her like that.” Jungkook growls, and he feels blood rushing through his veins.

Mingyu shakes his head. “You know what I thought when I first met her? I was completely interested right away, but when you showed up…” He chuckles in the way that makes Jungkook’s skin prickle. “It just made me want her more.”

“You’re fucked in the head.”

“This fucked in the head guy got the girl you want wanting to commit to him. I don’t know if she told you, but we’re moving in together.”

Jungkook pokes his tongue to his cheek. “You think I won’t tell her about this?”

“You think she’s gonna believe you?” Mingyu fires back. Jungkook closes his mouth, doesn’t really know if he’s confident enough to say yes. That earns him an arrogant smirk from Mingyu. “That’s right, she won’t. I have no doubt she’s gonna choose me over you. Jiyeon has had before. And if you’re gonna fight the same battle again this time, you’ll lose.”

Jungkook regulates his breathing hearing his words. He’s starting to not see clearly, his fist clenching on his side and he knows better than to resort to violence, but Mingyu’s testing his patience.

He’s completely wrong for thinking that he isn’t the same asshole he was back in college. He’s completely wrong for not telling you about him sooner. He’s completely wrong about everything.

Glancing at his hand, Mingyu looks him in the eyes, leaning forward. “You wanna hit me just like how you did back then? You almost fucking killed me when you gave me that head injury that kicked me out of the fucking team.”

The head injury. That fucking head injury. Jungkook was so mad when he found out that he just saw pure red. It wasn’t his best moment – he knows. He lost control and just… went for it. He still regrets doing it – not punching Mingyu – but for losing it when he could’ve shown him that he’d always be the bigger person between them both.

He’s quiet and Mingyu takes that as a win. Scoffing, Mingyu says, “I could’ve reported you to the admin and you could’ve been expelled, and if that happened, you couldn’t have gone to med. You are where you are right now because of me, so don’t fucking show that animosity towards me because you fucking owe me one.”

Jungkook can’t help but laugh. But he does so humorlessly. “You really think that?” He stares at the other guy. “You’re just as delusional as you were back then, Gyu. You think everybody liked you – but that was just because you were a touch-deprived loser who would fuck anything that breathed near him, and I wasn’t. I only entertained women I liked. You thought you were smarter, but I was always the one who got the better and higher grades, even though you studied way harder. Is that why you went with law? So you won’t have to compete with me in the med field? I also know you were pissed as fuck when the captain title was passed on to me instead of you,” Jungkook leans closer as well. “You’ve always thought of yourself so highly, but deep down, you were just an insecure little boy trying to compete with another guy that didn’t even see you as competition because you were that irrelevant.”

Mingyu, in his own fir of rage, grabs Jungkook’s collar, but Jungkook stays in his place, face stoic as Mingyu snarls, “You keep running your mouth while you cry yourself to sleep because those don’t mean anything when I’m the one fucking the love of your life,” Jungkook visibly recoils to that, and when Mingyu notices, he smirks, adding, “Yeah, yeah, you wanna know how __ is in bed? Because you’ll never see her sopping wet when you give her cock. That angelic face of hers… you’ll never know she’s a slut the way that filthy mouth asks me to fuck her harder because I am that goo—”

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence when Jungkook’s heavy fist suddenly lands on his cheek.

That effectively gets Mingyu to let go of Jungkook’s collar as he loses his balance and steps backwards limply, thumbing the side of his mouth only to see blood.

Whisking away his fist, Jungkook looks at Mingyu with fire in his eyes and venom in his voice when he says, “Don’t you ever fucking dare talk about her like that, you fucking piece of shit.”

The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a silvery white glow over the beach, but the comforting sound of waves and the calm of the surrounding is a contrast to the rising tension between Jungkook and Mingyu.

When Mingyu doesn’t say anything, Jungkook turns on his heel, ready to leave, but suddenly, he feels the back of his shirt getting pulled and being met with a fist right on his cheek, close to his nose. He barely dodges the hit, taken aback by the unexpected attack.

“Fuck you.” Mingyu grits, eyes blazing.

With that, the fight intensifies, with Jungkook throwing a quick jab back. Mingyu retaliates with as much fury, the two of them grappling, their bodies colliding with violent force. Soon, the sound of their grunts and the occasional crash of a punch against flesh is drowned out by the crashing waves.

And then a familiar voice calls their names.

“Jungkook! Mingyu!”

“Oh my god!”

Jungkook’s suddenly being taken away by somebody by his arms, and he realizes it’s Taehyung when he speaks up again once he and Mingyu are off each other.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” Taehyung asks incredulously, rightfully shocked at what he’s seen. Jungkook forces his way out of Taehyung’s hold in frustration, wiping the side of his mouth. Mingyu’s on the other side a few inches away being hesitantly held down by Nayeon, who looks at all of them with deep worry in her eyes. Turning to her, Taehyung says, “Call Doyeon and __. They’re sleeping in the same room together at the villa.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Jungkook says, glaring at Taehyung.

He looks at him angrily. “You’re fistfighting with somebody at fuck o’clock in the morning. We’re going to get run off by the police, be thankful we saw you.”

“I-I’ll call Doyeon and __.” Nayeon stutters, reluctantly pulling away from Mingyu and going to the direction of the villas.

When she leaves, Taehyung looks between the two beaten up men, not believing their busted faces. Rubbing his own with his hands in frustration, he looks back at them again, saying, “What the fuck happened to you guys? Why were you fighting?”

“It’s none of your business.” Mingyu says.

Taehyung glances at him with irritation. “None of my business? Fuck off, Kim Mingyu. You joined in on this trip. Everything that happens here is quite literally each other’s business.”

“Tae.”

“I can’t believe you guys,” Taehyung shakes his head, ignoring Jungkook. “Fighting like goddamn immature teenagers… are you not embarrassed?”

Looking away, Jungkook decides to sit on the sand and let Taehyung’s words go from one ear to another. His energy is waning and the rage he had a while ago is just simmering down to… nothing. He feels absolutely empty.

“Jungkook?” He doesn’t realize the steps that were coming towards them were you and Doyeon. It’s obvious that you’ve both been sleeping, still in your pajamas as you rush towards their direction. He looks at you when you call his name, but then suddenly, you turn to Mingyu. “Ming— what happened?”

Jungkook feels his heart break when you come towards Mingyu’s direction first. He knows why you did. He’s your boyfriend, of course you are going to tend to him first.

Suddenly, he remembers what Mingyu said. About you choosing him over Jungkook.

Jungkook didn’t doubt that, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt a little to see it fully realized.

“Jungkook– Jesus Christ,” Doyeon comes over to him and quickly checks his head. With knitted brows, she casts him a look.

“I’m fine.”

She’s about to say something, but then she closes her mouth and then glances at you.

Sighing, she turns to everyone and announces, “Look, let’s just get them back to the villa. Treat their wounds before they get infected.”

“Right.” Taehyung says and then comes over to Jungkook to help Doyeon guide him in walking. He relents first because he doesn’t need their assistance, but Taehyung looks at him and he knows he’s pissed. So, he lets them.

As he tries to subtly look over to where you were, you have your arm around Mingyu’s waist while Nayeon helps guide him as well.

It takes a tedious few minutes to get back to the villa where Doyeon and Taehyung decide to take care of him in his room while Nayeon and you tend to Mingyu back in your room.

Doyeon nor Taehyung doesn’t say anything the whole time. Just let the silence fall in the room as they clean his wounds and put bandages around the cuts on his face and treat his busted lip.

He knows they’ll talk to him in the next few hours. It’s inevitable. But at least they’re sparing him for tonight – or today, since it’s almost four am.

Jungkook regrets not seeing the sunrise.

[ READ BELOW ]

this chapter is not over yet! tumblr has a 1k paragraph/block limit in a single post and so i can't put the whole thing in this. please look thru the reblogs to read the last scene and the continuation of this chapter or click on this [ link ]

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Marina; Tucker is having a normal one. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Uh, should we be worried about all that back there?” New Ecto-Boo asks, looking skeptically back at the GIW agents they’ve already passed–and also looking really fucking hot, still, and on top of that being fucking easy about his flying in a way that Tucker usually only sees in the older and stronger ghosts and spirits–note to self–and definitely more graceful than Danny ever is, but also, like–heavier and more deliberate about it, somehow? Like, Danny flies like he’s in zero G and controlling his momentum with a bit of ecto-powered propulsion as he makes his way through the vacuum of the world. This guy flies like he’s moving the world around him; like he’s got it all in his grip and he’s just spun his destination right to him. 

Possibly he’s literally doing that, considering? That might actually be a thing, yeah, given the whole nature of weird ghost powers being weird ghost powers. 

Okay, yeah, Tucker apparently will be finding this situation hot. On top of how hot he already found it, will he be finding it hot. 

His ideal future ghoulfriend is a situation, at this point. 

“Yeah, no, it’s cool, they’re just seeing horrifying specters from another dimension,” he reassures Haunted Heartthrob, patting his–still wet and naked–chest again with his free hand. Said chest is also still kinda ecto-glisteny, but at the same time looks sort of, like, weirdly iridescent under the subtle green glow of the remaining ecto on it? Like, not full-on “so like are a few of the GIW scientists just reeeeeally into Twilight or what?” levels of it, but still, it’s definitely noticeable as a thing. 

Another note to self, Tucker thinks, and taps some observations into his PDA in coded shorthand. By which he mostly means “uses the most illegible font he has installed scaled down as tiiiiiny as it can get in a real light text color”, but same difference. 

Also much funnier to watch Vlad rant and curse about not being able to “decode”. Like so, so much funnier. 

He has literally never even tried changing the font, much less the text size. Tucker has no idea how the dude can be so smart and so stupid, but that’s kind of a specialty of Vlad’s at this point anyway. 

“Uh,” the Honey Pot Poltergeist says, slanting him a wary look. 

“Oh, I mean they’re seeing horrifying specters from another dimension in, like, a faked-by-my-superior-tech way, not like I cursed them to Lovecraftian insanity,” Tucker reassures him, wagging his PDA at him in clarification. “I just can’t get into that dude’s writing, for one. Also do you know what he named his fucking cat?” 

“Literal fucking hate speech that I have no desire to be repeating, last I heard,” Spectrally-Sexy/Just-Passed-The-Shitty-Person-Test snorts, making a face. 

“Correct answer, good job,” Tucker says approvingly. It wasn’t actually like, a trap or anything, but he was maybe testing the waters a little, sue him. Like, just checking for red flags early, that’s all. He’s not sure if the guy’s fully white or maybe, like, a little bit mixed with a bit of East Asian, he’s not an expert or whatever, but being white-passing mixed doesn’t rule out the possibility of red flags, so yeah. Or, like, being literally anything, admittedly, because some people are just fucking asshole. “Hey, hang a left at the next hallway, would you? Looking for a hot goth in a black crop top and a vegan leather miniskirt.” 

“So like plastic, you mean,” his new sweethaunt says dryly.

“Yeah the whole ‘you know ethically-sourced leather is actually better for the planet and less wasteful than pleather, right?’ thing was not a happy realization for her,” Tucker confirms.

[cattycupid]

*Susie (sighs, tossing the gamepad aside):

— Okay, fine… You’re messing with me, aren’t you? I’m done playing like this!

*Kris (calmly, without looking up from the game):

— Me? Messing with you? No, I’m just playing.

*Susie (skeptically):

— "Just playing"? You do it methodically, like a robot!

*Kris (smirking):

— Maybe I am a robot. Less emotion, more wins. 🤖

*Susie (skeptically):

— But seriously, have you ever actually exerted yourself?

*Kris (a bit thoughtful but still relaxed):

— I just... know what I’m doing. Keeping it under control. It’s… nice.

*Susie (laughing):

— Yeah, right, Mx. "I have everything under control." You can’t even set an alarm on time!

*Kris (grinning, but then adds quietly):

— Maybe... But at least in the game, it feels like I’m in control of something. And sometimes… I don’t know, it’s like someone else is guiding me.

*Susie (half teasing, half suspicious):

— Okay, now you're sounding kinda weird, Kris.

*Kris (smiling faintly):

— Nah, forget it. I probably just need some pie… or another couple of wins.

*Susie (grinning):

— Oh, pie? I’m all in for that. But next time, if I beat you, you’re treating. Get ready for a rematch!

[incognit0slut]

Prove me wrong

When you tease Spencer about his inability to be dominant in bed, he decides to prove you wrong by taking matters into his own hands.

Warnings: (18+, MDNI) afab reader, established relationship, dom spence but he’s still gentle, spanking, fingering, edging/orgasm control ~3.6k words A/n: Every time I write him as a dom I always make sure to write a backstory, like I can’t imagine him being hard on you out of nowhere. Do you get what I’m saying? Anyway this is the spanking fic I was talking about the other day. lmk what you think!!

The giggle left your lips before you could stop yourself. You really shouldn’t be laughing, especially when you were straddling his lap in the midst of a hot, passionate make-out session. But you couldn’t help it, it was as if you had no control over your amusement. Spencer, however, did not find the humor in the words that had slipped out of your mouth.

“What? You don’t think I can do it?”

It wasn’t fair. You knew that. What had started as a casual conversation—with stolen kisses here and there—quickly escalated into a playful banter about who was more in charge in the relationship. You had been teasing him, confidently asserting that you were the one wearing the pants in the relationship because you couldn’t imagine him being in control.

The conversation naturally shifted to a more personal challenge, touching on the topic of dominance, a subject neither of you had seriously discussed before. You had laughed then, not out of mockery, but because the idea seemed so out of character for him.

“I just think you’re more comfortable with control in other areas,” you said, trying to stifle your giggle. “But in bed? I can’t picture it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “And what areas do you think I’m more comfortable with?”

“Well, teaching for one,” you replied, leaning closer. “I’ve sat in one of your seminars. You’re always so confident standing in front of a classroom.”

“So you think I’m good at teaching?” he replied, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “But not at… other things?”

“Exactly,” you said, nodding. “I mean, you dominate the classroom with your knowledge. But that’s different from... you know, being dominant in bed.”

“Mhm.” His hands trailed up your legs before they settled on your waist. “Maybe those skills are more transferable than you think.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You can’t possibly compare giving a lecture in front of your students to... this.”

“Why not? Both require confidence, understanding your audience, and knowing how to lead.”

“Nice try, but I’m still not convinced,” you teased. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You leaned in to kiss him again, your lips barely brushing his, but he backed away, leaving you hanging. His eyes were serious, not amused by your skepticism. You laughed. It was clear he wasn’t satisfied with your perception of him.

“Baby, it’s okay. I don’t mind if this isn’t your strong suit.”

“Well I do.”

You tilted your head, giving him a curious look. “Since when do you care about my opinion?”

“Since you’re my girlfriend,” he replied. “And I can’t let you think less of me.”

“I never think any less of you.”

“But you’re doubting me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Oh, come on, stop making that face.”

Spencer's response was swift. His hands moved to gently cup your face, drawing your attention fully to him. “Tell me why you think I can’t be dominant in bed.”

You paused, thinking for a moment. “Well, you have this… air about you. It's hard to imagine you letting go.”

"Maybe I don't need to let go. Maybe I just need to take control in a different way," he said, his thumb gently brushing your cheek. “Maybe I can teach you a thing or two."

"You? Teach me?" You raised an eyebrow, mock disbelief coloring your tone. "This I have to see."

“I think you should be careful what you wish for,” He said under his breath, his lips now just a whisper away from yours.

“Oh, I’m not worried,” you shot back, smiling against his lips. “I just don’t think you have it in you.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you.

His lips moved against yours softly yet deeply, carrying the usual sweetness you'd grown accustomed to, but there was a subtle edge this time. It wasn’t too harsh, but just enough to catch you off guard and make you part your lips. He took the invitation, his tongue tracing a deliberate path inside your mouth as his hand trailed up to hold the back of your neck.

Hot. You felt hot everywhere. Certain spots on your body felt as if they were on fire, the burn traveling through your veins before pooling between your thighs. You couldn’t believe a simple kiss could make you feel this way. The heat was intense, making you ache with a need that you instinctively started to move your hips, seeking more. But then he pulled away, breaking the kiss.

“No,” he said firmly. “You’re not allowed to move.”

You frowned at him. “Why not?”

"Because..." His fingers traced a path to the hem of his shirt that you wore, the one you claimed as your own. He slowly began to lift it, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “You need to earn it.”

You understood immediately what he was attempting. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you desperate. You realized it was some kind of power play, and this was his way to dominate you, to keep you on the edge. Each careful, controlled movement was a clear message to you. He was in charge, and you were left craving whatever he chose to give.

"Yeah?" You whispered, noticing the way your voice trembled with anticipation. "And how do I do that?"

He lifted the shirt higher, his hands sliding up your sides, the cool air hitting your exposed skin. “By letting me lead,” he said. “Maybe I'll give you what you want then.”

The fabric slipped over your head, and you sat there, perched on his lap, momentarily vulnerable under his intense gaze. The room seemed to hold its breath, the tension palpable as you felt his hands rest lightly on your bare shoulders, his fingers tracing small circles before they trailed lower, stopping just above your breasts.

“Will you do that? Will you do what I say?”

You swallowed hard. This was new. You never thought you’d see him asking your permission to be in control, yet here he was, doing the exact thing you were skeptical about. And to your surprise, you liked this side of him.

“Will you?” He urged.

You felt your breathing grow heavy as his hands moved lower. “…yes.”

His thumbs brushed over your nipples. “I can’t hear you.”

You felt the sensation hit right through you, and it took a lot of self-control for you not to arch into his touch, to keep your voice steady as you repeated louder, “Yes.”

A satisfied smile played at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to press an open kiss on your neck. “I think I can get used to this.”

You tilted your head, exposing your neck to him. He wasted no time, licking and sucking on your pulse point, making sure to leave his mark. His hands continued their exploration, squeezing your breasts gently, feeling their full weight in his palms. When he tugged on your nipples, pulling them harder than he ever had before, a moan escaped your lips, surprising even yourself.

His lips curved into a smirk against your skin. "Sounds like someone's enjoying this more than they expected.”

Breathlessly, you replied, "You're... doing okay, I guess."

"Just okay?" His breath was hot on your already heated skin. "I'll have to try harder then."

His fingers traced a teasing path down to the hem of your panties, playing with the soft fabric, his fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just beneath. “Lift your hips.”

You complied, lifting your hips slightly, your breath catching as his fingers hooked around the fabric and slowly began to pull it down. You shifted on his lap, letting him slip off your panties completely. He discarded it onto the floor, his hands returning to your thighs, gently massaging the plumpness of it as he fixed his gaze on you.

There was something about you that captivated him at that moment. The way you trembled, the way your breathing quickened, the way your pupils dilated. Spencer had always loved the pure desire reflected in your eyes whenever he touched you, but this was different. It was raw, unfiltered desperation, and he wanted to savor it, to draw it out and see just how far it could go.

“See? Already doing better than just okay.”

Your breath hitched as his palm ran up your inner thigh. “You’re not done proving yourself yet.”

“You know,” he started, his voice low and teasing. “You shouldn’t really challenge me like this.”

“I’m not challenging you… you’re the one who started this.”

His fingers stopped just at the edge of the heat between your legs, teasingly close yet maddeningly far, but close enough to feel the dampness on your skin.

“No, you started this.” He moved his hand further, brushing against your outer lips. “You told me I wasn’t capable of being dominant.”

Your mouth fell open, a gasp escaping your lips. “I—I didn’t think…”

“Didn’t think I could take control?” His fingers grazed your slick pussy, slowly brushing your arousal between your folds. “Or didn’t think you’d enjoy it this much?”

You could only moan in response, your body reacting despite your attempts to keep your composure. 

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice as soft as his touch. “Are you still not convinced?”

Your breath hitched as his fingers found your clit. You gasped, trying to form coherent thoughts. “I… I’m starting to see your point.”

“I need more than that,” he uttered, and to your disappointment, he pulled away. “Lay down on my lap.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He smiled. “You heard me. Lay down on my lap.”

Hesitantly, you shifted, positioning yourself across his lap, your heart pounding in your chest. “Spencer, I don’t—” you started, uncertainty lacing your voice.

“Shh,” he cut you off, his hand softly patting your back. “Relax.”

He watched as you started to relax, the supple curve of your back arching slightly, highlighting the roundness of your ass as you settled into position. His hand rested lightly on your lower back while his other found your face, turning it towards him. His eyes met yours as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from your forehead.

"Look at me," he whispered. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes steady on his soft brown orbs even though your heart was racing while his other hand trailed down the curve of your hips. Then, without warning, his hand lifted from your skin only to come down gently in a firm, open-handed spank on your ass that resounded through the quiet room.

"Spencer!" you exclaimed, a flush spreading across your cheeks.

His hand rubbed the area soothingly. “Have I convinced you enough?”

You bit your lip, feeling the warmth of his touch both soothing and stimulating. “Maybe,” you replied breathlessly, your cheeks still flushed.

“Maybe?” He laughed. “Why do I feel like you’re doing this on purpose?”

You looked away, flustered, not wanting to admit the truth. “I’m not… I mean…” you stammered, your face heating up even more.

Seeing your reaction, he moved his hand between your thighs again, his fingers brushing against your slickness. “Interesting,” he hummed. “It seems you’re enjoying this more than you’re letting on.”

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch. “Spencer…”

“But you don’t deserve this yet,” he said, pulling his hand back teasingly. “Not until you’ve fully earned it.”

His hand suddenly came down on your ass again, the sharp sound echoing through the room. The burning sting made you gasp. 

“Count,” he instructed.

You could feel your eyes well up with unshed tears, the intensity of the slap overwhelming. You should feel ashamed and embarrassed by the situation, everything about this should send you into sheer mortification. Yet, there was also an undeniable pleasure threading through the pain, so intense that you could feel yourself getting aroused.

Another spank followed, slightly harder this time. “I told you to count.” “Two,” you gasped.

His hand came down again, firmer than before. “Start from the beginning.”

You blinked away the moisture in your eyes, trying to steady your voice. “One...”

“That’s better,” he murmured, his hand connecting with your skin, the sensation sharper than before.

“Two...”

His eyes stayed locked on you, gauging every reaction as he slapped you again.

“Three,” you cried out.

You continued to count, the numbers blending with your gasps and moans. By the time you reached seven, you were panting, the tears finally spilling over your face. His touch softened, his fingers gently caressing your reddened skin as he pressed his lips on your cheek, trying to kiss your tears away.

“Oh, baby, you know I hate to see you cry,” his voice was sweet, almost cooing, but the underlying taunt was unmistakable as his hand came down again sharply on your ass. You cried out, but he continued to trail soft kisses along your jawline, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re doing so well,” he breathed. “But I need you to count again.”

“Eight,” you whined as you tried to catch your breath. Before you could fully process the last slap, you felt another sharp smack on your ass, making you cry out again. 

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered, the mix of sensations overwhelming you. His kisses were gentle, almost tender, but his hand was anything but soft.

“Just a little more, I promise,” he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and comforting. “What number was that?”

“Nine,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

“One more,” he whispered. “Just one last time. Can you be a good girl and count it out for me?”

You nodded, bracing yourself. He slowly lifted his hand again and paused in the air for a moment before letting it down in a firm, final spank.

“Ten!”

“Very good,” he praised softly, his voice warm and approving. He rubbed the stinging area gently as his lips found yours in a tender, reassuring kiss, his hand cradling your face gently.

“There, all done,” he said, pulling away. “Do you think you deserve your reward now?”

You nodded slightly, your body still humming from the intense sensations. “Please.”

His smile was soft when you met his gaze. “Alright,” he hummed. “You’ve earned it.”

You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver of anticipation run through you as his fingers slipped between your legs again. The warmth of his fingers against your folds sent waves of pleasure through your body, and when he pressed gently against your clit, a gasp escaped your lips. You arched into his touch, every nerve ending tingling with the sensations he was creating. The pleasure built steadily, each stroke sending you higher, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Spencer,” you moaned, unable to hold back yourself as you arched your back, your hips grinding against his fingers, seeking more of the delicious friction.

“You’re so wet,” he sighed with a hint of surprise and satisfaction. “You like it when I go hard on you?” 

You could only nod in response, your mind barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he was working on you.

“Do you think you can take it if I go harder?” he asked, his fingers stilling for a moment, waiting for your response.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with desire. “I-I can take it.”

He answered you by slipping, not one, but two fingers into you without warning. The sound you let out was filthy, almost primal, a mix of a moan and a gasp that reverberated through the room. The unexpected intrusion drove you crazy, making it impossible to hold back your reactions as his fingers started to move inside you, stretching and filling you in a way that had your toes curling.

“God, you’re so tight,” Spencer sighed, his lips brushing against your ear. He could feel your walls clenching around him, contracting in response every time he thrust his fingers into you. It drove him wild. It consumed his mind. He couldn't believe he was the one making you feel this way.

If you were wet before, you were absolutely drenched now. Your arousal stained his skin, and it amazed him how it didn't seem to stop. The liquid seemed to intensify, becoming the only noise in the room—a slick, wet sound that echoed softly as he started a faster pace, curling his fingers inside you.

You felt the pressure building, a tight coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your lower stomach. Every curl of his fingers, every stroke against that perfect spot inside you, sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

“Spencer,” you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea. “I’m so close…”

He pulled your face closer to his, brushing his lips on your cheek. "Already?"

You nodded, unable to form words. Suddenly, he pulled his fingers out, leaving a void that made you whimper in protest. But before you could voice your frustration, his hand came down sharply on your ass. The sudden slap made you wail, your jaw slacking open.

"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

You didn't know which surprised you more, his sudden withdrawal or the sharp sting of his slap. But both affected you like a storm suddenly breaking the calm, jolting your senses awake, heightening your senses.

With his hands still on you, he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Have I proved you wrong yet?"

You could barely speak. Instead, you opted for a nod, hoping he’d understand your silent affirmation. But Spencer wanted more, he wanted to hear it. When your voice failed to form the words, his hand came down sharply again, a firm smack that made you gasp and arch your back.

"Not good enough," he said firmly. He then gripped your chin, turning your face to meet his gaze, forcing you to look directly into his eyes in this position. His hold was firm, his eyes intense. "Say it."

You opened your mouth, trying to form the words, but they came out as a soft whimper when you felt his fingers suddenly slipping into your cunt again. The stretch was even more delicious this time, intensifying the pleasure already floating in your veins, scattering your thoughts.

"Focus," he commanded, but how could you when he thrust his fingers into you at a mind-blowing speed? Each thrust seemed to demand an answer, it was as if he was using your own body against you, pushing you to the edge until the only thing you could think of was the control he had over you.

And it was working, because all you could focus on was him—his fingers pumping in and out of your slick cunt, the intense gaze in his eyes, the warmth of his breath against your lips. Everything around you seemed to blur and only he remained clear.

"Say it," he urged again. "Say that you were wrong."

You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak, but his hard gaze and the relentless motion of his fingers forced the words from you. "I-I was... wrong."

"Louder," he demanded, his fingers never faltering. "I can't hear you, baby, need you to talk to me."

You moaned, your body trembling with the need for release. "I-I wanna cum."

"Hold it," he said firmly. His fingers didn't relent, maintaining that perfect rhythm, pushing you further, harder. "Say it louder."

You clenched around him, trying desperately to hold back the orgasm threatening to overwhelm you. "I-I was wrong."

"I think you can do better than that."

You groaned. The pressure was too much and you fought to find your voice through the haze of pleasure. You could feel every ridge and curve of his fingers as they moved inside you, the friction building an unbearable heat that pooled low in your abdomen.

"I still can't hear you."

"I was wrong!" you cried out pathetically, your voice breaking with desperation. Your walls clamped around him, trying to draw him deeper as the slick, wet sounds of his movements filled your ears. You were drowning in the sensations, the tension inside you winding tighter and tighter. The world narrowed down to the feeling of his fingers inside you, the relentless pressure, the intense heat pooling in your core.

“Spencer, please,” your voice cracked, tears prickling down your cheeks again. You could taste the saltiness as you took a sharp intake of breath. "Please, please, please, please—"

"Now."

With that single word, the tension inside you snapped. A powerful surge of pleasure tore through you, starting at your core and radiating outward like a shockwave. Your vision blurred, and your entire body convulsed as the orgasm overwhelmed your senses. You cried out his name, and your muscles contracted around his fingers, squeezing tightly as the sensations spiraled out of control. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful.

Your skin felt electric. Your heart pounded in your chest. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you rode out the peak of your climax, hips bucked against his hand while his fingers continued their relentless pace, drawing out your orgasm, making it last longer than you thought possible. The intensity left you trembling, your body spent and your mind unable to process anything other than the overwhelming pleasure.

You finally collapsed against him moments later, your body limp and your breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The intensity of your orgasm left you feeling both weightless and heavy as if all the strength had been drawn out of you. He gently pulled you onto his lap, your smaller frame draping effortlessly over his.

And this time, Spencer shouldn't be laughing, but he couldn't help himself. His chuckle was soft and warm, a sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into your body as you lay against him. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but you could sense his amusement.

"If I had any strength," you muttered, sinking into him. "I'd hit you so hard right now."

He laughed again, this time a bit louder. "Well, it's a good thing you're too worn out to try.”

"Don't get used to it," you warned, though there was no real threat in your tone.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "But I do enjoy seeing you like this."

You nuzzled closer to him, feeling the exhaustion beginning to set in. Your eyelids grew heavy as you muttered, "Just don't forget who’s really in charge in this relationship."

"I wouldn’t dare.”

“I’m—“ you stopped as a yawn suddenly hit you. “I’m… the dominant one here.”

"Sure, you are," he teased gently, stroking your hair as you settled comfortably against him, a smile playing on his lips.

“I… mean it.”

“Of course. You’re always in charge.”

You nodded sleepily. “And I’m… still going... to… hit you… later…”

He rested his head on top of yours, letting your body fully relax into his. “I look forward to it.”

With a final, contented sigh, you let yourself drift off on his lap, the sound of his steady heartbeat lulling you into the most peaceful sleep.

[yyuangss]

MORE GIRL TALK ! ( STAR RAIL MEN )

SUMMARY ! march 7th finds out you like someone. and as your best friend, it’s only right that she has to give her input on whether or not she approves of him.

NOTES ! part one of girl talk (dan heng, caelus, sampo, jing yuan, and argenti). need hoyo to give the biggest girl’s girl they’ve ever created a bff asap. she deserves it after everything she’s been through 🫡 this goes out to that one anon. if you’re reading this, i added a bonus for you <3

TAGS ! reader is not the trailblazer. contains gepard landu, dr. ratio, aventurine, and boothill. possible spoilers for penacony quest in aventurine’s part, tried to keep it very vague and minimal. feelings are mutual on both ends.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . GEPARD LANDAU !

the biggest mistake you’ve made is telling march you have feelings for the captain of the silvermane guards. because now she’s made herself the conductor of the express, switching course to jarilo-vi, crash landing terribly, and running all the way to serval to ask if gepard has feelings for you. march always assumed there might have been some mutual pinning from gepard’s side. he probably thought he was the best at hiding his feelings, except it didn’t help that he constantly shielded you whenever you were at risk of being at harms way. which in her opinion means he’s willing to protect you no matter what. this trait was very important and she will not let you pass up on that opportunity. according to serval, gepard had already confessed to his sister how he felt towards you and was too shy to admit it. once she confirmed his mutual feelings, serval and march are on matchmaker duty.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . DR. RATIO !

march does think that ratio is mean and extremely talkative. she also believes him to be selfish. there’s already a negative perception of him in her mind. though, her opinion on him is only based off the first time the express met him. compared to you, she hasn’t gotten the chance to truly know him (not that she really wants to). so, march says her judgement is biased and null in this case. she hears a different side when you’re in her room, telling her all about him and how he’s incorporated you into his very busy schedule. and it’s proven to her whenever ratio boards the express for the sole purposes of visiting you. or he’s arriving at the space station around the same time the express gets there, despite having prior plans made. march is very suspicious how the two of you aren’t dating yet. actions speak louder than words and ratio’s actions make her very impressed.

march 7th’s thoughts on . . . AVENTURINE !

march won’t lie, she has heavy mixed opinions for aventurine and still doubtful of him. it’s possible that the entire astral express would share these mixed opinions if you told one of them. on one hand, she’s grateful for all the help he aided with. had he not been there, you all would’ve never gotten into penacony. she’s surprised to hear you ran into him several times when you were exploring. it’s where you got to know him while he showed you around, taking you to all the best sight seeing locations. aventurine didn’t waste a second to express his interest in you. even after what happened with him before the final battle in penacony, he still showed that same interest. which is why march doesn’t know why you’re wasting time telling her about your feelings towards him when you should be admitting them to aventurine instead. her mixed opinions will still be present. once she gets to know him like you did, they’ll eventually fade and she’ll be less on the weary side.

BONUS !

dan heng’s thoughts on . . . BOOTHILL !

“oh.” is all he says. dan heng is not very vocal, so his expression and body language tell you all you need to know. in this case, a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look forming on his face. he’s not really interested in this type of talk and that’s one of the main reasons. still, as your closest friend, dan heng doesn’t want you to think that you and your feelings aren’t important to him. his quiet demeanor makes him more observant. watching you and boothill interact makes dan heng realize how truly oblivious you are. it’s clear as day that the interstellar cowboy is interested in you. unless he’s the only person who has caught on to the mutual feelings. but there’s no way especially with all the darlin’s and sweetheart’s boothill calls you. either way, in his opinion, you should be with who makes you happy and dan heng won’t stop you from that. will bluntly expose yours and boothill’s attraction if either of you take too long.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Doctor Doctor, Gimme The News | Part II

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Doctor!Reader

Summary: You receive a particularly difficult patient by the name of Bradshaw and you try your best to resist his charms.

CW: tall Bradley, Mavdad, it's still goofy XD

WC: 1800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You’re sitting at the bar with a drink in your hand, waiting for your friend to finish flirting with the bartender so you can pay your tab, when you hear a familiar voice from behind.

“Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

You glance over your shoulder wearily, instantly recognizing the tall aviator you met at the clinic earlier in the week. Bradshaw, was it? “Yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, giving him a polite smile before turning away.

Bradley doesn’t take the hint and plants himself on the barstool next to you. “So, are you gonna tell me your name? Or am I just gonna have to keep calling you Doc? Might get a bit awkward in bed.”

You snort into your drink as you’re taking a sip. Bradley grins, clearly pleased that he’s made you laugh. His slightly narrowed eyes sweep over your face with a quiet confidence, and you find yourself rather enjoying his attention. “Well, for the sake of making things less awkward,” you respond with a small smile, and then tell him your name.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then leans forward slightly to add, “again.”

You bite into your lip to suppress your widening grin.

“I was hoping I’d run into you, actually,” he comments, turning away to flag down the otherwise occupied bartender.

“Oh yeah?” you ask, feigning surprise.

“Yeah,” Bradley responds, tapping on his beer bottle and nodding at the bartender. He turns back to you and shrugs. “Saves me from having to fake an illness to come see you.”

You eye him somewhat reproachfully. “That would be extremely inappropriate.”

Bradley laughs. “If you think that’s inappropriate, I’m not gonna tell you what I planned on doing once I got there.”

Your eyes widen at the insinuation. “Lieutenant!” you exclaim.

Bradley continues chuckling. “Don’t worry, you’d have liked it.” He winks and then nods at the bartender who’s brought him his beer.

You stare at him because his boldness is mindboggling. “You shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” you point out.

He looks at you with amusement. “What head injury?”

“The one that brought you to my office?”

“You know what brought me to your office?” he says, and then points a thumb over his shoulder at a crowded table near the back of the bar. “Captain Maverick Mitchell. My self-appointed father figure,” he says in a tone that’s half-grudging, half-affectionate. “And possibly fate,” he adds as an afterthought.

You blink at him skeptically when he glances back at you. “Wow,” you say. “Pulling out the big guns.”

Bradley laughs again. “I have quite the arsenal.”

“Oh, I bet,” you say with a chuckle. “Aviator, right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bradley responds proudly. Then he nods at the glass you bring to your lips. “Looks like you need a refill.”

You shake your head. “I was about to head out actually.”

Bradley purses his lips and narrows his eyes. “But then I arrived and changed your mind, right?”

You laugh slightly. “Not quite, Lieutenant,” you respond, rising from your stool and waving at the bartender. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Bradley gets out of his seat and pulls out his wallet. “Allow me, please,” he says.

“That’s not necessary,” you reply uncomfortably. You don’t like feeling indebted to anyone.

Bradley gives you a more serious look. “It’s the least I could do for nagging you this evening.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads of its own accord. You find Bradley reasonably attractive, sure. But it’s the way he carries himself that’s really got you hooked. You can hardly pull your gaze away. “Don’t forget about the part where you were the most obnoxious patient.”

Bradley lets out a hearty laugh. “That deserves a whole pint, Doc.”

You give him a smile. “Maybe another time,” you say politely. Despite his persistence, you can’t jeopardize your position at the clinic by consorting with a patient.

But before you turn to leave, Captain Mitchell approaches the bar and, upon perceiving you, he exclaims, “Oh! It’s the doctor!” He gestures in your direction while looking at Bradley.

Bradley gives him a flat look. “No shit,” he says.

Maverick glances between the two of you and then nods in realization. “You’ve spotted her already.”

You press your lips together to conceal a smile as Bradley brings a hand to his face like he’s thoroughly embarrassed by his ‘self-appointed father figure’. “Hello again,” you say to the captain, extending your hand.

“Good to see you, Doctor,” Maverick replies with a knowing grin, shaking your hand. “Almost didn’t recognized you without the stethoscope.”

“Oh god,” Bradley groans. “That's embarrassing.”

Maverick looks over at him with a confused expression while you giggle. “I was actually planning on scheduling him in for a follow-up,” Maverick says. “Noticed some concerning behaviors.”

You raise your eyebrows while Bradley watches Maverick’s profile incredulously.

“New behaviors?” you ask, glancing back at Bradley.

“No, no.” Maverick waves a hand nonchalantly as he settles onto a barstool. “Not new.”

Bradley shakes his head. “Why are you such a shit disturber?”

Maverick laughs and claps him on the back. “You buy the lady a drink yet?”

You drop your head slightly to hide your growing smile.

“I was trying to,” Bradley declares. “Before your ass showed up.”

You look up apologetically at the two men who are now watching you expectantly. “I’m not…thirsty.”

Maverick winces while Bradley’s shoulders visibly fall. “It’s his fault, isn’t it?” Bradley says, gesturing at Maverick with his thumb again.

“How is it my fault?” Maverick exclaims.

“It’s not his fault,” you attest, glancing at the captain.

“You should talk some more about my concerning behaviors,” Bradley retorts.

Maverick snorts. “I was kidding!” he says. “She knows!” he gestures at you. “You know, right?”

You glance between the two men patiently, wondering if they realize just how much they have in common. “Neither of you is driving tonight, right?” you ask, feeling, for some strange reason, a sense of responsibility for them.

Maverick turns to face you with a jolt. “I’m sober,” he asserts.

Bradley’s eyebrows converge in a dubious expression before he looks back at you. “He’s not driving,” he confirms.

“And you?”

“This is only my second beer!” he exclaims.

You meet his gaze with a smile because you don’t want him to feel attacked. “Okay,” you respond gently. “Drive safe.”

You start to walk away when you hear Bradley say, “Can I walk you to your car, Doc?”

You turn to face him again, about halfway to the door. “You know my name now,” you say, and he grins at you.

“I do,” he agrees. “That was for old times’ sake.”

You sigh. “Sure, Lieutenant. You can walk me to my car.”

…

Out in the parking lot, Bradley muses, “I’m thinking of maybe dislocating my shoulder next week. That’s an easy fix, right?”

You look over at him sharply. “That’s not funny.”

Bradley grins. “Not even a little?”

You roll your eyes at him and continue walking.

“Come on, Doc!” he calls after you. “My sense of humor is a good thing, remember?”

You smile to yourself and slow your pace to let him catch up. “There are other ways of getting my attention besides injuring yourself,” you remark as he falls back in step with you.

“Such as?” he asks.

You approach your car and unlock the door. “I can’t give away all the answers, can I?”

Bradley presses his lips together and grins. “Does that mean I have a shot?”

You lower your gaze coyly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“That’s not a ‘no’,” he points out.

You smile, glancing back up at him. “No,” you agree. “I suppose it’s not.”

Bradley’s eyes sparkle mischievously as he holds your gaze. “Can I take you to dinner?” he asks.

“No,” you reply almost immediately. Then, after a beat, you add, “Not yet.”

Bradley licks his lips, still grinning. “I’ll take it.”

You chuckle slightly, reaching for the door to your car.

“Can I stand here with you a little longer?” he asks, his voice a little more raspy when it isn’t bursting with confidence.

You pause, your hand still on the door, shocked at how desperately you want to oblige. How delightful it would be to just say yes on a whim. Without considering the repercussions or weighing the pros and cons. Without deliberation or apprehension. Impulsively. The word itself makes you flustered. “Okay,” you say, glancing up at him as he shifts a little closer.

Bradley smiles at you and leans his back to the car. He stands quietly for a few moments, just existing beside you, which you find both endearing and infuriating. You don’t have a lot of time on your hands and simply standing around is a colossal waste of it in your books. But something about the warm evening breeze paired with the smell of the ocean and Bradley’s crisp cologne makes the experience less harrowing, and maybe even possibly pleasant.

Still, you’re restless. “So, when you said you wanted to stand here, you actually meant stand here…” you comment.

Bradley glances down at you with an amused expression. “You got something else in mind, Doc?”

You half-snort, half-chuckle. “I just thought maybe you had something else to say. I didn’t realize we’d be standing in silence.”

Bradley grins at you. “It’s called being present.”

You study him with a slight grimace, genuinely trying to keep your cynicism at bay. Being present isn’t a kind of luxury you can often afford. Most days, you don’t even get a chance to eat sitting down. “What does that accomplish?” you ask.

Bradley, who’s still watching you with a smile, replies, “Does everything you do have a purpose?”

“Of course,” you say. “Why else would I do it?”

Bradley raises his eyebrows and puts his hands into his pockets. “That’s very practical of you.”

“It’s efficient,” you point out, trying to highlight the importance of productivity.

Bradley nods patiently. “Sounds like you need a night off, Doc.”

You laugh. “I just had a night off. But it had a purpose – my friend needed help wooing the bartender.”

Bradley chuckles. “Has the purpose ever been to just have a good time?”

You make a face and shrug. “That’s not really a priority of mine.”

“Wow, Doc, you’re a hoot,” Bradley replies facetiously.

“I warned you,” you remind him, opening your car door.

Bradley leans his arm over the frame of your car as you climb inside. “You know you leave me no choice, right?” he says, ducking his head slightly to peer into the vehicle.

“What are you talking about?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“We’re going to have to rearrange your list of priorities,” he says.

You watch him for a moment, marveling at his persistence. His gaze drops briefly to your lips before flitting back up to your eyes again, and you wonder what it might feel like to be kissed by a guy like Bradley. It would probably be sexy and spontaneous. It would probably catch you off guard and possibly even offend you a little. Then again, maybe you wouldn’t mind being mildly offended if it meant kissing Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw. “I’m not sure that’s a realistic goal,” you say. Your tone might be sarcastic, but the statement is fairly accurate.

Bradley grins. “I don’t mind a challenge.”

Rooster Tag List:

I'll be putting the rest of the list in the comments shortly! Please feel free to let me know if you no longer wish to be tagged in my Rooster fics.

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[verstappensrealwife]

Get in loser, we’re going shopping. - Max verstappen x fem!Reader

fluff

approx. 1100 words

warnings : fem!reader implied, lingerie, makeup?

max verstappen masterlist - here. f1 masterlist - here.

Victoria secret. Max Verstappen stood in Victoria's Secret, an unmistakable tension in his posture. He had clearly entered a world far outside his comfort zone, one where the vibrant pink stripes of the walls seemed to mock his unease. His usual confidence was nowhere to be seen as he fidgeted, eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape route, only to be met with racks of lacy bras and silk pajamas.

Every so often, he would sneak a glance at the scantily clad mannequins, immediately recoiling as though he had seen a ghost. When you picked up a particularly elaborate set of lingerie with a playful smile, Max’s gaze involuntarily followed your movements, only to snap away the moment he realized where his eyes had landed. His cheeks were turning a shade that could rival the blush of the silk and satin surrounding him.

“What do you think about this one?” you asked, holding up a dark blue, lace-up one-piece with a flourish, as if presenting a rare treasure. The garment seemed almost to sparkle in the store’s soft lighting.

Max’s eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he tried to process the question. “Oh—yeah—” His voice cracked, then steadied as he tried to muster a semblance of expertise, even though he looked like he was trying to decipher a complex mathematical formula. “Yeah. It, uh… looks good.”

You couldn’t help but snort with laughter. The sight of him standing there, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, was both endearing and hilarious. “Oh, come on, Max,” you said, tossing the dark blue creation into your basket with a dramatic flourish. “We can pay now. Stop worrying. You look like you’re about to break into a cold sweat.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and for a brief moment, his shoulders relaxed. As you made your way to the checkout, he kept his eyes resolutely on the floor, as if studying the intricate patterns of the carpet might somehow make this experience more bearable.

When the cashier flashed a friendly smile and began ringing up your purchases, Max’s face turned a shade of red that was almost a match for the store's pink décor. He shuffled his feet, looking everywhere but at the register, clearly relieved that the ordeal was coming to an end.

As you walked out of the store, basket in hand, Max let out a sigh of relief. “Well,” he said, trying to sound casual, “at least that’s over.” He gave you a sideways glance, and despite his discomfort, there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Next time, let’s do something less, uh, colorful.”

You laughed, looping your arm through his as you headed toward the next store. “Deal,” you said, still chuckling. “But I have to say, you’ve got a pretty good eye for lingerie.”

Max shot you a playful glare, though his lips twitched upward. “Just don’t make me go back there anytime soon.

Sephora. The moment you stepped in, you were greeted by the familiar scents of perfumes, the vibrant displays of makeup, and the soft lighting that made everything feel luxurious. Max followed closely, looking a bit out of place but curious nonetheless.

“Alright, what’s first here?” he asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.

You laughed, enjoying his willingness to go along with it. “Well, I need to restock on a few things. But first, let’s find you a cologne. I think you’ll like it.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but game. “Alright, show me the way.”

You guided him to the fragrance section, where rows of sleek bottles lined the shelves. You picked up a few testers, spraying them on the little cards and holding them out for him to smell.

“This one’s nice,” you said, offering him a card with a fresh, woodsy scent.

He sniffed it, nodding in approval. “Not bad, actually. Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, smiling. “But let’s try a few more.”

You went through several options, each time watching his reactions as he tried to distinguish the notes—some he liked, some not so much. Finally, you both agreed on one that was a perfect balance of musk and spice.

“Alright, I’m sold,” he said with a grin. “Now, what else are we getting?”

You laughed, knowing full well he had no idea what he was in for. “Well, I need a new foundation, and maybe a lip gloss or two. You can help me pick.”

As you moved to the makeup section, Max started to loosen up, asking questions about the different products. You explained the basics of what each one did, enjoying the role reversal as he tried to understand why you needed five different shades of lipstick.

“Why not just one?” he asked, holding up a bright red tube.

You giggled, shaking your head. “Different occasions, different moods! It’s all about options.”

He seemed genuinely interested as you swatched a few colors on your hand, comparing shades and textures. “This one’s nice,” he pointed out, picking up a soft pink shade.

“Yeah? I like it too,” you said, adding it to your basket. “Good choice.”

After a while, Max even started having fun, pointing out products that caught his eye and making playful comments. By the time you reached the skincare section, he was fully engaged, asking about face masks and moisturizers.

“What does this do?” he asked, holding up a jar of night cream.

“It helps keep your skin hydrated while you sleep,” you explained, opening the jar so he could smell it.

He gave it a cautious sniff, then smiled. “Maybe I should start using this. I could have skin as nice as yours.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “Maybe you should! We could do face masks together.”

He smirked, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Only if you pick the least girly one for me.”

“Deal,” you agreed, feeling a warm sense of happiness that he was willing to dive into your world, even if it was just for an afternoon.

By the time you left Sephora, Max was carrying the bag, looking surprisingly pleased with himself. “You know, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” he admitted. “And I got a new cologne out of it.”

You smiled, looping your arm through his. “See? I told you it’d be fun.”

“Alright, next time, we’re going to my store,” he warned playfully.

“Deal,” you said with a laugh. “But you might have to drag me out of the next one.”

As you walked out of the shopping centre together, you couldn’t help but feel a little closer, grateful for a boyfriend who was up for anything, even an impromptu trip into the world of Sephora.

[ventismacchiato]

1O stuck with you — sand in my ass !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

As with most things involving Scaramouche, your day starts off on a disastrous note. The cramped quarters of the dorm building force all ten of you into a chaotic dance as you rush to get ready, dodging elbows and sidestepping misplaced shoes. Unfortunately, you seem to be magnetically drawn to Scaramouche, bumping into him no less than five times before breakfast. The microphones crackle with your manager’s impatient voices, urging everyone to hurry.

“You took that long just to come out looking like that?” Scaramouche’s voice greets you as you finally make it into the kitchen with the rest of the group. He doesn’t exactly wrinkle his nose in disgust, but it’s a very near thing.

You ignore him, your eyes instead raking over the counter filled with neatly stacked plates of pancakes. The scent of fresh fruit wafts up, and you instinctively reach over to grab a fistful of berries.

“Wow, who managed to make all this?” Lumine asks, marveling at the spread before piling an impressive stack onto her plate.

Kazuha, flipping a pancake with a practiced ease, jerks his thumb toward Scaramouche, who’s manning the stove like he's scared Kazuha is about to set it ablaze.

Your hand freezes mid-reach. Without a word, you drop the plate you picked up back onto the counter, your appetite vanishing.

“You are so petty, just eat it, Y/N,” Fischl murmurs, standing behind Scaramouche with an amused look. “Can you add chocolate to mine?”

“What are you, five?” Scaramouche grumbles, but he obliges, grabbing a handful of chocolate chips and sprinkling them over her pancake while simultaneously swatting Venti’s wandering hand away from the stove.

“You’re acting like he’s trying to poison you,” Yoimiya sighs, exasperated, as she takes her own plate and starts to serve herself.

“He probably is,” you mutter, poking at your untouched pancakes with a fork, still skeptical.

Scaramouche, not missing a beat, shoots you a glare. “I will cook bleach into your next meal.”

A loud, resounding "NO" echoes from the intercoms, reminding everyone that Jean, ever vigilant, is monitoring your every move.

Scaramouche, annoyed, looks into the ceiling where he thinks the camera is. “I WILL!” he shouts, voice dripping with defiance.

“Scara, baby, turn around. The camera’s behind you,” Childe says with a laugh.

Scaramouche swivels around, eyes locking onto the correct camera this time. “I WILL!”

“Wow, you sure showed them,” Aether chuckles, drizzling syrup over his and Lumine’s pancakes, clearly enjoying the idiocy.

You, on the other hand, can only sigh, clasping your hands together in mock prayer. “Please, get me out of here,” you whisper, hoping that someone, anyone, is listening.

“No,” Lisa laughs into your ear piece.

Anyone but Lisa.

The sun blazed overhead, casting long shadows on the sandy track laid out for the first challenge of this god forsaken fake dating show. The tension between you and Scaramouche was palpable as cameras buzzed around, capturing every strained glance you both sent one another.

“Could you both at least pretend to smile?” Lumine sighs, coming to stand in between you both.

“No,” you both say in unison.

"Alright, contestants!" Yae's voice rang out cheerfully over the loudspeaker as she sat a couple feet away from you all, "Our first challenge is a two-legged race! The winning pair gets to have a private date with a gourmet meal!”

“Now, obviously we want Scaramouche and Yn to win,” Yae admitted with a sigh, “But for this challenge we will actually play it to keep it a little realistic.” Yae claps her hands as she signals to the ropes on the ground.

“All of you can pair up, except for our lovebirds. Tie your ankles together and stand before that line. The course isn’t too long.” 

You glanced at Scaramouche, who was examining the ropes with a bored expression. "Just try not to trip us," you muttered, as Scara fastened the rope around your leg and his.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't worry. I'm not planning to win this anyway."

As the race began, it was immediately clear that Scaramouche was dragging his feet, literally and figuratively. He barely lifted his leg, forcing you to stumble and struggle to keep pace. The other pairs surged ahead while you and Scaramouche lurched forward in awkward, jerky movements.

"Can you at least pretend to try?" you hissed, frustration mounting with every step.

Scaramouche smirked. "Why should I? Do you really want to go on a date with me?"

“No, but I don’t want us to look like unathletic idiots on tv,” you huff.

“Don’t worry, you already look unathletic,” Scara adds unhelpfully.

Yae sighs from where she’s sitting as she watches you two barely make it past the starting line. 

"Scara, I know you're good at this!" Yae called out, her voice carrying over the sound of the other contestants' laughter. Lumine and Yoimiya had already crossed the finish line, untying themselves with triumphant grins. 

"Scaramouche, I swear if you don't—" you began, but he cut you off with a weary sigh.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, more to himself than to you. Scaramouche, still grumbling under his breath, wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. With a sudden burst of athleticism, he finally matched your pace, and together, you both stumbled forward with more rhythm than before. You were no match for the other pairs who had long since finished, but at least you weren’t tripping over each other anymore. It was almost too natural, too comfortable, and for a split second, you forgot about the cameras and the show. But then reality crashed back in when he pinched your waist when you started slowing down.

"Finally, almost done," you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth of his hand on your waist and focusing on not tripping over the sand.

"Yeah, yeah, just don't mess this up," Scaramouche replied, but there was no real bite in his words that time. 

Finally, you both crossed the finish line, far behind everyone else. Yae clapped her hands together, a mischievous smile on her lips. "And our final pair has arrived! Congratulations, you two. You were... spectacularly last."

Scaramouche immediately let go of you, stepping back as if the contact had burned him as he slipped out of the rope binding you two. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his dramatics, but before you could respond, Yae continued.

“Of course, for the sake of the show, we’ll just pretend you two got first place. After all, what kind of dating show would this be if the main couple lost that badly? Miya and Lumine, you both can have a gourmet meal too but just off camera.”

“So rigged,” Aether sighs.

“In the other games we’ll play fairly, it’s just for the first episode,” Yae giggles.

The other members were already lounging on the sand, enjoying their downtime as you’d both taken forever to get going. Venti and Fischl had even started a sandcastle, which was somehow more elaborate than anything you’d ever seen. 

Venti waved at you with a playful grin. “You two sure took your time! Must’ve been having too much fun, huh?”

You and Scaramouche simultaneously scoffed at that, and you could hear the others chuckling at your synchronized reaction.

“You guys are stupid,” you huff, kicking sand towards your nearest victim. Poor Childe.

“I agree,” Scara says, but his voice was quieter, almost contemplative. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Then just fuck on camera so we can all go home!”

“Venti, move over. I’m going to kick down your castle.”

“NO WAIT!”

You dig your toes into the sand, letting the cool grains slip between them as you wait outside the kitchens for Scaramouche. The sun is setting, casting a warm orange glow over the beach, and Yae's words about a "romantic walk" still make you want to gag. She had told you the meals would be set up away from everyone else so you both could enjoy a romantic walk towards your date. The last thing you want is to spend more time with Scara pretending to be enamored with each other, especially after the disaster that was the race.

“Aww, look how cute Y/N is, waiting for their date,” Yoimiya teases, a grin spreading across her face as she takes another bite of the crab she and Lumine had won.

“If he doesn’t show up in ten seconds, I’m leaving without him,” you grumble, crossing your arms in frustration.

“No, you won’t!” Lisa’s voice blares from the intercoms, making you jump a little. “Remember, you’re supposed to be in love. Try to act like it!”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, just as Scaramouche finally appears, looking equally as unimpressed. “You ready?” he asks, not bothering to hide the lack of enthusiasm in his voice as he walks ahead without you.

“Not really, but let’s get this over with,” you mutter, pushing off the wall and starting down the path that Yae had indicated earlier as you catch up with him.

The walk is awkward, to say the least. Neither of you says a word, and the only sounds are the gentle waves crashing on the shore and the distant laughter of the other contestants. The romantic atmosphere Yae had tried to create is completely lost on you both.

Finally, you reach the small table set up near the water’s edge, lit by a couple of lanterns. The meal is already laid out—lobster, of all things, with sides that look way too fancy for a beach dinner. You sit down across from each other, the silence continuing to stretch as you both start to pick at the food, trying to figure out how to eat without looking ridiculous.

Then, out of nowhere, your ear pieces crackle to life. Lisa’s voice bursts through, louder than before. “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, DO SOMETHING INTERESTING!”

Scaramouche groans, his fork clattering onto his plate as he rubs his temples. “Do they ever shut up?” he mumbles.

You stifle a laugh at his pain, but it quickly turns into a grumble. “Apparently not.” You take a deep breath, trying to think of something to say that won’t make this whole situation more painful. “So, uh… what are your hobbies?”

Scaramouche stares at you, disbelief written all over his face. “Seriously?”

“What? I’ve never been on a date as an idol before,” you reply, trying not to sound too defensive but miserably failing. 

He smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, that’s apparent.”

You scowl at him, refusing to let him get under your skin. “You can’t talk. Your last relationship was a total disaster.”

His smirk fades, replaced by his usual look of annoyance. “Ew, let’s not discuss my ex.”

Before you can respond, Lisa’s voice crackles through again, this time more exasperated. “THIS IS KILLING THE MOOD. THE STUDIO IS DRY. BE HOT.”

“What does that even mean?” you mumble, helping yourself to the calamari rings Scara wasn’t touching.

Scaramouche sighs, clearly just as fed up as you are. He reaches across the table, and you blink in surprise, half expecting a slap as he leans forward. 

“Hold still,” he mutters, his fingers brushing against your chin. You feel a light pressure as he wipes something from the corner of your mouth. Before you can react, he brings his thumb to his own lips, licking it off casually.

“Gross, I hate squid,” he complains, pouring himself a drink as if nothing happened.

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can practically hear Lisa’s triumphant yell through the earpiece. “YES! LIKE THAT! Finally, some chemistry!”

You stare at Scaramouche, who just shrugs as he forgets about the cup entirely and starts drinking straight from the bottle. He meets your eyes over the rim, as if daring you to say something. You value your life so you keep your mouth shut.

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. But before you can retort, you’re faced with the lobster on your plate. The shell is hard, the claws menacing, and you realize with growing embarrassment that you have no idea how to eat it without making a complete fool of yourself. You were used to instant ramen since none of your members cared to cook back at the dorms. The cameras are still rolling, and since you hadn’t eaten all day out of sheer pettiness, this damn lobster was your last option.

Scaramouche seems to notice your hesitation if the growing smirk on his face is any indication. “You’ve never eaten lobster before, have you?” he asks, his tone surprisingly neutral. That neutrality puts you on edge.

“No,” you admit reluctantly, hating that he now has more ammunition to tease you with. You’re about to push your plate away and accept your fate, considering just chugging the dipping sauces out of spite, when Scaramouche sighs, setting down the bottle.

“You’re hopeless,” he mutters, reaching across the table to pull your plate in front of him. With practiced ease, he cracks open the lobster’s shell, separating the meat and placing it back on your plate.

“There,” he says, sliding the plate back over to you. “Now just eat it. And try not to make a mess, dumbass.”

You’re stunned into silence, watching as he casually goes back to his own meal as if he didn’t just do something unexpectedly considerate. The cameras must be catching every second of this, and you can already imagine the headlines. He was taking this dating show more seriously than you’d thought he would. If the cameras were off he would’ve usually just let you starve.

Lisa’s voice crackles through your earpiece, full of praise. “Wow, that wasn’t emotionally constipated at all!”

You finally manage to pick up your fork, poking at the perfectly prepared lobster on your plate. You’re not sure if you’re more irritated that Scaramouche had to help you or that you’re actually grateful he did. Either way, you grudgingly take a bite, and it’s annoyingly delicious.

“What is it now?” Scara asks, looking from how you keep glancing at him, “Did you forget how to chew, too?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin. “Just… thanks.”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering whether to make a snarky remark, but then just nods as if he decides you aren’t worth the extra words. “Whatever. Just don’t make a habit of needing my help.”

You roll your eyes at his words, but your chest feels uneasy. 

You shake it off as being sick from skipping breakfast. 

[00:00:00] INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Can you state your name for the camera?

SCARAMOUCHE: Why? Everybody knows who I am.

JEAN, EXASPERATED: Just do it, please.

SCARAMOUCHE: [SIGH] Fine. It's Scaramouche, or Kunikuzushi.

JEAN: Thank you. How was your first day on the island?

SCARAMOUCHE: It was ass.

JEAN, LOUDLY: Cut!

[00:13:00] INTERVIEW ONE, TAKE TWO

JEAN: I'm going to ask you again. How was your first day on the island?

SCARAMOUCHE: God, it was fine. Is that what you want?

JEAN: Thank y-

SCARAMOUCHE, INTERRUPTING: Actually can we retake that? I sounded too nice. I want all the fans to know I hate Yn—

JEAN: [SIGH] Cut!

[00:00:00] INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Can you state your name for the camera?

YN: YN! Everyone's favorite coke whore!

JEAN: Jesus Christ, cut!

YN, BEFORE THE CAMERA CUTS: What? God forbid I channel my inner Ayesha Erotica!

[00:25:00] INTERVIEW TWO, TAKE ONE

JEAN: Please state your name for the camera.

YN: It's YN! Everyone's favorite from Windblume! [WINKS]

JEAN: How was your first day on the island?

YN: It was okay. It's really hot and I got sand in my shorts. Not on purpose, Scaramouche threw sand at me because I looked at him funny. Stupid bitch. Then—

JEAN, TIREDLY: Can someone give me a normal answer for once?

YN: —after that disaster, Venti lost my vape—wait, can I say that on TV? Probably not. Anyways, it was a Lost Mary too, which are expensive!

JEAN: Cut!

YN, STILL TALKING: And after that the rest of the day was okay. I'm trying to treat this like a vacation from being an idol, so.

JEAN: Why did I get a normal answer when the camera turned off? [GROANS]

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

i edited those plushies of scarayn myself do we like ☺️ yn is a grey panda to be gn

comment on the masterlist if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

end of act one 🎬

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — i’ve been feeling down and sick so i wasn’t in the mood to write but here you all go, wasn’t it worth the wait! 😊 pls don’t harass me to post fast touch some grass guys 😢

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