#stroke of luck part-8 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

awrkive · 5 months ago

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 2 — JJK (m.)

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 22.5k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, lovely hot nerdy jk ): (i think i speak for all women when i say that nerdy jungkook is the best jungkook say I IF U AGREE),[explicit sexual content: masturbation (f)], has the budding romance finally hit the second towers? read more to find out

NOTES hey everyone thank you so much for the overwhelming support on this silly little fic. i hope you guys enjoy this update and let me know your thoughts in the replies/reblog section and in my inbox, wherever you prefer hehe <3

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You usually finish prepping for the office at around 7:40 am, just enough time left to walk to the station and catch your bus at exactly 8 am.

As of now, it's 7 but the clock's longer hand has moved past the 40-minute mark, and you are still in your living room, supposedly all done and ready to go – except that you're stuck on the floor looking at your laptop perched on your coffee table, staring at it blankly, the HR email looking right back at you; almost daunting.

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

You've been reading it over and over again you're sure you can recite it with ease if prompted. It's in the hopes that the name Jeon Jungkook will suddenly disappear somewhere in the email – that maybe you missed some detail, and it doesn't actually mention his name at all. You read the email repeatedly wishing that it is just a glitch in the system and what you found out about yesterday are all just a part of your extreme delusion. Maybe it's one of those nights with Jimin at his apartment where you would indulge in a little bit of guilty pressure – pots, to be exact – and just let it take you to a whole new world.

But you and Jimin didn't go home together last night, and you definitely did not smoke pot. He went straight to the airport and you straight home with nothing but mixed feelings inside, and you were more than thankful that Jimin was in a bout of panic himself about not getting there on time that he didn't notice you squirming in his passenger seat.

There is a vague memory in your head with him telling you he was going to come with Namjoon, but you can't be for sure. Everything that transpired that night is all reduced down to the very moment in the comfort room when you realized the glaring information about Jungkook being three eggs in your basket: first, he's Jimin's cousin. Second, he's an executive in your company – a CTO, to be exact – and while you aren't exactly working under his department and they are all the way up ten floors above you, he's still technically your boss according to the hierarchy. The son of the CEO of the very company you are working at. Not only is he the CTO, but third he's also your neighbor. Someone you've met weeks ago whom you may have developed a growing relationship with that will now possibly be bleak in a matter of hours or days depending on if you are going to tell him or if he finds out.

That is the thing that you're currently debating with yourself about as you let your eyes glide over the unsuspecting email from HR for the nth time.

7:50 am – the clock on your screen reads.

You think about the dock pay that you're gonna get if you come to work late. At this point, you can run to the station and still catch your bus, but you have to decide in a minute for that to be possible.

Groaning, you feel defeated as you shut your laptop close and stand up from the floorboards, your eyes going over to the door across from you which earns yourself a wince.

I'm gonna get a dock pay and it will all be Jungkook's fault. That jerk.

Okay – obviously, he's far from a jerk and he has nothing to do with any of this. You just like blaming anybody.

You sigh, grabbing your bag, finally making up your mind to just go and see for yourself what today has to offer you. A little optimism, if you will. But if you manage to bump into Jungkook at that company you aren't sure if you're not going to do something embarrassing because one thing about you, you do not know how to face certain challenges in life like a matured individual – you always have to be a little overboard and overdramatic with it.

You were heading towards the door when you suddenly remember your ID.

Your ID. Funny.

As you pick it up off the coffee table, you think about how you don't really wear it on the way to work and on your way home. You don't like the feeling of the lanyard wrapping around the skin of your nape, so you've always just worn it when you're in the office where it is mandatory. Otherwise, you make sure to take it off.

Suddenly, you think about a scenario where you're the kind of employee to wear their ID all the time, and those nights where you'd go to Midday straight from work to have dinner with Jungkook would've turned out differently because then if you were to have worn your ID during one of those meetings, he would've figured out that you're working at the same company. And maybe... the conversation about his relation to Jimin would've came up.

And maybe, you won't feel so... complicated about the whole thing.

How – in the two weeks that you've spent with him – do you know too much yet so little about him? How did you ever not ask each other where you work and how did this all come to you like a landslide and now you have no way out?

God's sake, you know about his dog, and you've exchanged numbers... and yet...

Although, granted, maybe you should've asked for each other's socials? Does he have Instagram? Twitter? Maybe if you had exchanged those sooner, you would've gotten to know him more and made the connections you only recently found out.

You want so badly to reach out to Jimin to talk to him about all of this. But he hasn't really contacted you since he sent off Namjoon to the airport. Maybe he really did leave with him, and it isn't just your imagination when he said something about going there last night when you sneaked out of the party.

But deep inside... you do not really want to talk to him about any of this, at all.

It is, to simply put, awkward.

You feel ashamed for gushing about your neighbor that is apparently the same person as his cousin. Feel embarrassed about how you ogled over him to Jimin when in fact, they're related. You don't know about other people, but you know the unspoken rule about not dating your friends' relatives? Not like you're dating Jungkook, but you have a crush on him for fuck's sake. The strings do not even stop at their blood relation because it extends to your workplace as well.

You know Jimin well enough to feel confident about not getting judged by him if you were to tell him about it, and if he actually does, he will directly say it to your face as far as you're concerned. But...

It's just all too awkward to tell anyone about. You're in too deep in the sea of embarrassment and shame you cannot think of ways to get out of it.

Your head is starting to hurt, and you know it's the sign to stop thinking. So, you shut up all the voices in your head and walk towards the door ready to go out, telling yourself that whatever happened, you're going to handle everything cooly like the grown woman you are.

Stepping outside the threshold of your apartment, you're just about to turn around to lock the door on your way out when suddenly, the door across yours opens and there welcomes you the man starring in your list of problems for the day: Jeon Jungkook, your neighbor Unit 446.

"Oh, hi. Good morning—"

You turn on your heel so quickly and open the door to your apartment so fast it's almost at the speed of light, entering your apartment once again and slamming the door closed, pressing your back on it as your eyes widen; heart beating at a staccato of thug, thug, thug as you take a moment to hold your breath.

What the fuck.

How in the hell is this the first time you see each other getting ready to work? It couldn't have happened in the first week you knew him or hell, the first day?! Why must you have bumped into him like that the moment you finally knew about who he is? Everything is getting way too ridiculous. It's like the universe is telling you once again that you'll always be her middle child: unfavorable by all ends.

"Shit." You hiss, biting your lip quite harshly as you think about how you must've looked like a goddamn fool turning on him like that for no reason. Jungkook must've been weirded the hell out – and rightfully so.

You face-palm. Damn, you were just telling yourself you're gonna handle everything like a grown, matured woman.

You unconsciously walk on your tippy toes on the way to the small window on the side of the door that lets you oversee outside your door, peeking from there like a creep as you watch Jungkook, still on his porch – with his grey coat over his arm – looking down on his phone and doing something with it.

That something is apparently sending you a text.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:52am]: why did u seem like u just saw a ghost?

The message read when you open your phone at the bell of notification. You haven't even read all of it yet when another one comes in.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:52am]: am I that appalling in the mornings? Haha 🥴

On any occasion, you would've laughed and go along with the joke, but you do not know what to say to him.

You stand there doing nothing, just staring at his two consecutive messages, poorly left on read. You purse your lips as you peek from the small window again, getting a glimpse of Jungkook standing still on his porch, eyes glued to his phone. He waits for awhile, and then you see him shaking his head with a hint of... smile on his face?

And then your phone dings once again.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [7:53am]: good morning by the way. Get safely to work

You stare at it so hard that the next second you look at the window, he isn't there anymore.

Letting out a heavy breath, you knock your head on the door, thinking about how you missed your 8 am bus and you have to wait for 30 minutes for another one to come and most especially, how you're going to get a dock pay for being late.

It's almost as if Jungkook is running for higher office the way his face is plastered all over the LED screens inside the building, showing the announcement of his ceremony. It's taunting almost, the way it was the first thing you see when you swiped your ID for entry.

Although, you do find it funny that it's the same man you just saw in front of you when you stepped outside of your place earlier this morning.

"Sol," you call your co-worker and also your friend, sliding your swivel chair closer to her desk. "Do we really have to go to the ceremony?" You ask, seeing that everybody in the office is already setting aside the stuff on their desks to head out to the 12th floor where the announcement ceremony will be held.

Sol fixes the post-it note on her computer first before turning to you, "Of course we do."

You pout at that.

"Is Ms. Jung really gonna be mad if we don't attend?"

"You know how she has this obsession of making our department look good, so I'm assuming yes." She answers, and you slump in your seat knowing damn well she's right to think that. Sol sees your seemingly grumpy disposition and asks, "Why? You don't wanna go?"

If only she knew.

You shake your head to her question.

"I just think it's gonna be boring," you shrug, the lie rolling on your tongue seamlessly.

"Eh, at least it's less work for today. Those things run for two hours and there's free lunch so that's that."

Events like these are supposed to be advantageous for you because again, Sol is right and those things do run for about two hours meaning less workload. Also, free lunch. Who doesn't like free stuff? But then again, Jungkook is going to be there and with your luck, you're starting to think that you're going to see more of him from now on. That is just how the world works against you.

"You're right." You say, frowning becoming more and more apparent, you're sure.

Sol chuckles at you and stands up herself, fixing her dress as you follow her out of the office.

Before you could completely go out though, you stop her on her tracks.

"Hey, do you think you have a face mask I can borrow?" You say, looking hopefully at her. Sol raises her brows, obviously confused at your strange request. Clearing your throat, you pretend to cough a little in your fisted hand. "I'm feeling a little under the weather today, but I drank my meds this morning. Forgot the mask." You reason with her, adding more lies to the conversation.

"Oh, I see. Okay, I think I have it." Sol perks up at the realization and you both enter your office once again, with your co-worker digging through her desk's drawer for the mask you were asking her for.

She hands it to you as soon as she finds it and you're quick to wear it around your mouth, silently rejoicing in your head at the brilliant last-minute plan you came up with in your head in order to avoid anything with Jungkook later. Not that you expect him to do something if he, indeed, sees you – you doubt he even will, given that the hall is huge, and you are planning to sit all the way back – but the mask is just a precautionary measure so there are less chances of him recognizing you or anything crazy like that.

Together, Sol and you ride the elevator down to the 12th floor and unsurprisingly, a lot of the company's employees are already there, finding their seats, chitchats heard across the hall.

"Sol, __!" Joonhwi, one of your co-junior accountants and also a friend, calls out to you both, separating himself from the other accountants and heading to your direction. "You're sick?" He asks as soon as he sees your face covered with the mask.

"A little." You reply.

Joonhwi nods his head and then say, "I thought you girls were planning to ditch the ceremony."

"I'll do anything to not see your face but then again we work together so I have no choice." Sol snarkily remarks.

"Sol, can you please refrain from professing your love to me with all these people around?" Joonhwi retorts back, smarmy and teasing, ever the expert on how to get on Sol's nerves.

"__, can you get this khia away from me?"

You laugh at both of their exchange, shaking your head at their silly antics. You don't know if Sol is just... emotionally constipated, but damn, she sure is clueless as hell about Joonhwi's feelings. It seems like everybody from the accounting department knows except for her.

Shaking your head, you go straight to the seats available with Joonhwi and Sol sitting on opposite sides of you.

"Anyway, I heard they're appointing Mr. Jeon's son." Joonhwi suddenly say.

Now that makes you squirm.

"Really?" You utter, just to give them a reaction.

Sol looks at you weird. "I thought everybody knew that?"

"Well, there are lots of Jeons in Korea..." you tell her, earning a laugh from Joonhwi which makes Sol frown.

"A man is not allowed to laugh in my vicinity, Joonhwi, shut up," she says rolling her eyes. Her tone shifts when she speaks to you though, suddenly sounding more gossip-y as she shows you a picture on her phone. "Look at the material, though,"

You look at the photo of a man who very much has the same and exact coloring of the one and only Jeon Jungkook you know and you have to swallow the lump in your throat.

"I mean, I've always thought Mr. Jeon was a DILF but his son is – damn." She adds, zooming in on Jungkook's professional head shot.

You and Joonhwi both give her the stinky eye.

"Have some class." you tell her, earning a laugh from both of them.

"For the record, you agreed to that before." Sol points out, referring to that dinner you three had at a barbecue house awhile ago. For the record, though, you were both drunk and Joonhwi had to haul Sol's ass back to her place and call Jimin to get you to yours.

"I refuse to acknowledge anything I've ever said when I was drunk."

"Okay but is anybody getting the urge to get transferred to the IT department expeditiously?" Sol jokes, obviously swooning over Jungkook.

Joonhwi snorts. "The CTO doesn't even go there."

"Killjoy much?" Sol frowns at him. "He'd visit, though. Imagine the eye candy."

You eye her in a teasing manner, "You have enough candy on your plate, Sol." And then you subtly look over Joonhwi.

Joonhwi himself doesn't seem to expect the insinuation, but nonetheless you know that he got the message of you implying he's good-looking and if Sol is looking for that, he's just there. That is why he suddenly loses his smirk and rests his back on the seat, crossing his arms as he retires himself from the conversation, obviously dodging your teasing.

Psh. Emotionally constipated co-worker number two.

"What the hell does that mean?" Sol asks, but she can't get an answer as the ceremony begins.

"Good morning, everyone. Today marks a significant moment as we gather to appoint our interim Chief Technology Officer," The host starts the introduction, "We are here to acknowledge the pivotal role of the CTO in our company's journey to ensure continuity in our innovation efforts. It is with great pleasure that I introduce Mr. Jeon Jungkook, our interim CTO, who has been selected to step into the position."

And there is him, in his grey suit that you've seen him in earlier. He's wearing his glasses as well, the one that has the thinner frame. You notice he switches between two kinds; he wears the thick-framed one off work and the thin-framed one during work, like right now.

Jungkook smiles at the applause that reverberates all over the hall. There are LED screens that hang on both sides of the room and you can see his face clearly there. Sol gushes over how good he looks.

"Jesus, wow..." Sol whispers to herself, and you're sure she did not mean for you to hear that, so you try not to acknowledge it because deep inside, you agree with her. That's exactly your reaction when you saw him for the first time in the stairs of your apartment complex – and he didn't even clean up in his suit that time.

Jungkook stands on the podium with an easy-going smile on his face, his aura screaming confidence. He looks so sure of himself, like he's born to actually do this.

"Thank you, Mr. Park. Good day to all. I am deeply honored and humbled to accept the role of Chief Technology Officer at Blue Nexus Incorporation. As we navigate this interim period, my commitment is to uphold..."

You watch as he starts his speech, noting how well he speaks. You aren't a stranger to how people have different personalities when they are in and off work, but it's almost disorienting to see Jungkook going all professional, his voice soft but edgy at the same time, just enough for you and everyone to recognize a bit of authority in there.

He looks over the crowd, and for a brief second, you feel as if his eyes glossed over you far longer than he had other parts in the room.

But that thought dies down as quickly when he immediately goes back to speaking, and you're sure you just imagined it.

You're in the middle of your night routine when your phone suddenly dings.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:44pm]: just remembered we never really got around to that boxing machine, did we

Right. Today is Friday and you are supposed to go that boxing machine to determine if he's gonna supply your daily boba or if you're coming over to his place so he can cook you both a meal.

But that deal was made days ago when you still were clueless about his identity, and admittedly, you'd say that right now, you're doing anything to avoid him.

Scrolling through your message thread and seeing Jungkook's texts since that morning being left on read makes you feel bad. You know it isn't fair. It isn't nice to just suddenly go leave people dry like that, especially Jungkook who has been so strangely non-confronting about your sudden weird behavior.

It takes you a few minutes to give him a reply due to you erasing and retyping your message repeatedly.

You [10:47pm]: sorry ive been busy the whole day with work ):

Was what you lamely came up with. You couldn't have done better than that, to be honest with yourself.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:47pm]: I see Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:48pm]: so raincheck tonight?

You [10:48]: sorryyyy for cancellig im just feeling a little under the weather

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:49pm]: ohhhh ok ok sorry for texting late

You [10:50pm]: asbdbsfjshf its fine!!!!!!!!

Maybe you didn't think it through, but you find yourself typing the next message and hitting send way too quickly.

You [10:51pm]: maybe tomorrow?

You're thinking about taking it back, but Jungkook has already replied.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:51pm]: ok. I'll see you tomorrow 😊

Pursing your lips, you wonder what he's doing tonight.

Is he working? Maybe some take-home paperworks? What do CTOs even do? He must be really busy... though you think it has to be otherwise since he had the time to text you.

You stand up from the chair of your vanity table, patting your hair one last time and jumping to your bed, ready to overthink some more then sleep when an idea suddenly pops up into your head the moment your eyes lay on your phone.

Making yourself comfortable on your mattress, you pick up the phone from your night stand and unlock it, your fingers making quick work of opening the Instagram app and typing jeonjungkook on the search bar.

The results show you a few accounts that resemble the username you looked up, but as you check each one, none of them seems to belong to the man you're looking for. So, you try a few varieties: jungkook, jungkookjeon, jeon... JK?... but then you're sure you've milked out the last of your brain juice trying to come up with a possible username for him but to no avail.

Jimin must be following him, you think to yourself. Since Jimin is a snob on his verified and public account and isn't following anybody there, you go straight to his private account to try and find a Jungkook in his following but again – you guessed it, failed search.

"Does he not have an IG?" you ask yourself, feeling quite exhilarated.

You think about Twitter, but remembering Jungkook's face makes you share your head in disagreement with yourself. There is no way he has Twitter. That guy looks terminally offline and doesn't have the face of someone who likes tweeting in his leisure time.

You'd say it was curiosity rather than desperation when you decided to install Facebook and hoped to see some of him there. You did have little hopes though, as you started typing his name, thinking there was no way you'd see him on the app because, who even uses Facebook nowadays except moms and dads and grandparents?

But then as you jokingly type his name and enter it on the search bar, a few tagged pictures of him show up.

The first one is posted by a Jeon Junghyun, his brother, and the picture is from 2017. Said picture is of Jungkook at the airport sitting on his luggage, and the caption reads as: good luck in college brother.

You stare at the picture, noting how young he looked in it and suddenly feel disoriented when you see his arms with no ink around them. They're so bare, and he definitely looked more lean, not like the muscly guy you know him as now. He was starting college here, so he must've been only 19 in the photo... meaning he got his tattoos in the States while he was in college or maybe even later than that?

You click on Jungkook's page, the one that his brother tagged in the photo, but all you see is the default Facebook profile picture and a locked account.

Feeling disappointed at that, you go back to his brother's page and check it out, throwing all your shame away as you look through his photos.

He must've limited his audience since the public posts are all outdated, but there are a few pictures in which Jungkook is in them, as well as other recurring people who seem to be their parents.

There's a recent family picture of them in the Eiffel Tower – uploaded in 2022 – all four of them.

As you see Mr. Jeon, the CEO of your company, with his family, it's hard not to feel... whiplashed, for the lack of better term. From the looks of it, they seem to be... close? For the record, Jimin does not have any casual pictures of him with his parents, and as far as you know, they never went out on trips together – just galas and all that socialite events. You know they are only mere pictures, not solid enough to assume what Jungkook's relationship is with his family, but you're starting to think maybe it's a good one.

That'll honestly be surprising, given that every wealthy family you know has dysfunctional relationships. Nevertheless, it will be quite... adorable if what you think is true.

"Oh my god," you say, disbelieving, as you recognize Jimin in one of Junghyun's public photos while scrolling through more.

It's an event of some sort, and how can you not spot Jimin when he looks conspicuous in his orange hair? You remember this being in your sophomore year in college, and how much Jimin actually hates that hair and wants to burn down every picture that reminds him of it.

You snort as you zoom in on Jimin, taking a screenshot of the photo, mindlessly going to your messaging app; ready to send him the photo to poke lighthearted fun, but then you realize—

"Oh, I can't do that."

Jimin will ask you where you got the photo from, and you'll have to tell him that you were cyber stalking his cousin. Then, he'll ask why you were stalking his cousin, and he will find out the very thing you don't want him to find out.

That makes you frown, quick to delete the message you were just about to send and put your phone back to your nightstand.

Well, that ruins fun.

You wish you can tell Jimin or anyone for the matter, but you currently don't feel comfortable about doing that.

Sighing, you look up at your ceiling, then forcefully close your eyes to avoid more thoughts coming into your head.

You start counting sheep until you fall asleep.

There had been a lot of times where you felt like shit about yourself. They happen way too many times that at this point, you'd lost count. It wired you to think that there must be something wrong when a day goes all too well.

But there is no beating the feeling of self-antagonism when you ditch somebody – even if it's for a valid reason.

Sure, you've ditched Jimin a couple of times, and he always makes sure to rub it on your face as much as he can until you pout at him and explain to him that there are just some days you do not feel like going out. Jimin, as your best friend, understands that about you, of course.

A lot of times, though, it's the dates you tend to ditch the most. Three dates – you recall – is the number of times you'd skipped out of, just because you had a panic attack thirty minutes before the meeting that one time and two times for the plain, simple fact that you had a realization that you did not really like the guy you were planning to see.

Shin Taemu, the guy from the IT department asked you out last month for a second date and you texted him a last-minute, half-assed lame excuse about having gotten period cramps. Up to this day, you're still wary about using the IT department's copy room because his texts, since then, have been left unanswered. You saw him awhile ago at the cafeteria, though, and he seemed to be treating you non-differently even after you ghosted him suddenly.

Recently, you're doing the same thing again to Jungkook.

It isn't dating, of course – just the whole ditching thing.

You feel terrible for canceling on him again on Saturday when you just told him Friday night that you would go to that boxing machine. He had texted you a simple "we still on?" with a smiley emoji that gave you the creeps (because that smiley emoji does not ever mean the person is smiling behind it – knowing Jungkook though, it's probably not the case, and you're just overthinking it). You've left that text to rot until Sunday morning, and only picked it up later during the night, telling him you were "sorry I just saw this now! I was swamped with work stuff" even though you've never brought paperworks at home in your whole career and you were just binging The X-Files, bashing those two idiotic emotionally constipated FBI agents when you are quite one, yourself.

Sometimes, you fear you're no better than a man. Jimin will willingly knock your head on a door to get you to your senses and tell you all the things about why you should never compare yourself to them – but there are times like these when your shortcomings – specifically your lack of proficiency in communication – mirror that of a man's, and you hate every single second of it.

Until then, you dreaded for Monday to come.

But it's ultimately inevitable

And when you wake up from your sleep, it's Monday, and you have to go to work whether you like it or not.

And oh, to add, Jungkook hasn't replied to your message. Which – okay – ouch. But you're not supposed to be hurt by it; if anything, you kind of deserve it after ditching him so many times. He isn't an idiot, and you're sure he knows you lied... you're just thankful that he's not saying anything if he does know, indeed.

You have thought things over in the shower this morning, though.

If Jungkook is three eggs in your basket, why will it matter? So, what's the big deal if he is Jimin's cousin and that he works at the same company and lives in the same apartment complex?

You finally admit that those things matter to you initially because... you have a crush on him. If you didn't, you'll give fuck-all if he's related to your best friend. You won't care at all if he's your boss because you don't have to worry about fantasizing about him.

But the thing is, you do have some sort of romantic feelings for him, and that is why those things moved you in a way that makes you feel and act a little weird around him.

And now there's this feeling of guilt that has overtaken your entire system. Because if you just see Jungkook platonically, these things won't happen. And you hate it, because he's genuinely a good friend. Someone who may want a friend in you too, but you are ruining it all because you have trivial feelings for him.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But now that those realizations have become clear in your head, you've made up your mind by thinking that those eggs don't matter.

It doesn't matter that he's Jimin's cousin, doesn't matter that he's an executive. You are his friend, and it's was okay to have friends that are your other friend's relative and friends who are your boss.

Of course, it's still awkward to think about him catching you in your home clothes but on a more serious note, your crush will never see the light of the day and even if it does, there's no way Jungkook will accept it because guys like him never settle with people like you. And you don't even mean that in a self-deprecating way, not at all! You are just fully aware of the practical world you live in and know that the vast disparity of your economic status will never work, especially with the kind of family he was born into.

With that said, you are ready for things to be back the way they were. No more pussyfooting in the office in fear that you'll bump into him, no more canceling on his innocent invitations to dinner, no more pining over him secretly and putting malice over everything that he does because you're going to be a renewed person now.

You're ready to take on the big shoes and be matured enough to address his questions if ever he has one.

So, you enter the elevator of Blue Nexus Inc. with a sort of spirit that you're sure will be hard to take down, creating pictures in your head that depict a smooth-sailing conversation with Jungkook where you're ideally going to be cool in it and not at all panic-y.

It's alright. Nothing is going to change—

Your thoughts are disrupted when somebody enters the elevator and the people in it suddenly start bowing their heads, a series of greetings reverberating in the confined space.

Fuck.

"Good morning, Mr. Jeon."

"Greetings, Mr. Jeon."

"Mr. Jeon."

Your eyes widen when you see Jungkook walking in with his black suit and sleek black hair, his eyeglasses sitting on his nose.

Okay, so nevermind the illusion that you're going to be cool now – you're absolutely panicking in your position!

Thank fucking god you're at the back with two persons in front of you, hoping they are enough to at least cover your frame as Jungkook stands in front after greeting back the employees inside.

Oh my god. Fuck me.

You tilt your head to the side with a wince on your face, sneakily raising your arm over your head to take your hairclip off so your hair fans your face. It is a poor attempt at covering yourself lest Jungkook suddenly turns around and recognizes you as a result.

But in that moment, you must look stupid as hell that the guy beside you looks at you weird.

You stand upright, giving him a tight-lipped smile. He just snubs you.

That makes you roll your eyes.

You go back to staring at Jungkook's back agonizing the thought that you really aren't ready at all to confront him. You thought about it all morning, but the moment he got here, all those ideations of you being cool around him from thereon are suddenly thrown out the building.

A few seconds after, somebody drops off at the 13th floor, and it starts to make you feel nervous.

What if more people start going out and then you'll be left alone with Jungkook? You intended to go to the 16th floor where your office is... Jungkook is – wait, where is his floor? You actually have no idea. But you are certain it's floors above you. Oh god! How can you possibly move past him without him recognizing you? Shit. You didn't think about that.

Now, you're starting to lose your bottle, your head not able to form ideas to get through him. The elevator is small! And people are starting to head out...

You look at the position indicator of the elevator, telling you that you're going way up to the 15th floor. A few seconds after and it dings, the elevator door opening. The guy in front of you heads way out, and you can see Jungkook still on his spot.

You find yourself not being able to move, completely stoned in your position.

You sure as hell aren't going out unless he does first! That's your solution. If he's located at the topmost floor, you're going to wait until then. You're just going to ride the elevator down again.

But what you don't see coming is Jungkook suddenly moving to head outside the elevator.

Looking at the indicator once again, you confirm if he really is going to the 15th floor.

The door already closed by the time Jungkook is finally out, which eases your nerves. You're way too relieved to forget thinking about why he's in the 15th floor.

You stop at the 16th with a smile on your face, feeling like you just got away with murder. You've never done it – get away with murder – but that's exactly how you feel.

On your way to the office, your phone vibrates from the pocket of your trousers.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [8:56am]: Correct me if I'm wrong but I think I just saw you at the elevator today

You thought of ways to dodge his bullet, thought about denying his claim and telling him that he must've seen somebody else because you work all the way across town and him seeing you would've been impossible.

But you know the attempts will be futile.

If anything, though, you take it as a sign to finally make things right.

Avoiding Jungkook will never be efficient. In order to be successful in that regard, you'll have to hand in your resignation or move out of your apartment completely and you can't do that.

Besides, for what it's worth, you kind of miss hanging out with him and if you were to continue hiding from him, you will have to say goodbye to having him around at all.

The moment you got off work today, you think of plans to talk to him and maybe, just maybe, invite him for dinner – to, hopefully, make up for all the times you've bailed on him.

With a tail tucked between your legs, you stand apprehensively in front of the door of his unit, still unsure about your plans but doing it nonetheless. There's no going back now.

You ring the doorbell, taking your hand back quickly as if you just got electrocuted by it.

Please don't answer. Please don't be home. Please don't answer—

And there he goes, in his plain white shirt and grey sweats, hair wet from his previous shower – you assume. He's still drying his hair with a towel when he opens the door, but his ministrations stop the moment he lays his eyes on you.

You just give him an awkward smile that probably look more like a grimace.

"Hi."

The surprise is evident on Jungkook's face. Regardless, he is quick to get over it and gives you a big grin instead. An expression you did not expect to get.

"__, hey," Jungkook greets, placing the towel around his neck and letting go of his doorknob. "What brings you here?"

You balance your weight on your other side and purse your lips in a thin line.

"Do you, uh, wanna grab dinner?" You ask right away, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Jungkook's smile somehow grows wider at your question, and you don't know what to feel. If he's petty, he'll reject your invitation but with the look on his face right now, he doesn't seem to have the intention to do so. At least you hope so. It will be so embarrassing for you to have come all the way to his place instead of just asking him through text.

He was about to answer when somebody suddenly approaches the door.

"Jeon Jungkook?" The guy asks, and you immediately shot your eyes to look at him. With his printed shirt that reads a famous food delivery brand and his hands carrying bags of what you assumed take-out food, you figure what he's here for. "Here's your order, sir."

Embarrassed, you scoot to the side to give way to the food delivery guy and let him extend the bags towards Jungkook who grabs his wallet from the pocket of his sweats to pay for the food, thanking the man in the process.

He already has plans for tonight, you realize. Your invitation to dinner is futile because he already bought take-out.

The food delivery guy gave you a look before he took off in which you returned a timid smile for. And then, you turn around to look at Jungkook again.

"Nevermind, don't answer my question." You say, referring to your invitation prior to the arrival of his food delivery. "Uhm, bye. Good night."

You were just turning your heels to go the other way around when Jungkook suddenly speaks.

"Wait, don't go yet," Jungkook steps to the side and inserts his wallet back into his pants. He raises the bags of take-out and arches his brow towards your way, "Do you like Thai?"

"I do." You reply, not really understanding where he's getting at first.

Jungkook smiles. "Good. Do you wanna come inside?"

When you realize what he just said, you shake your head, "Oh, no, no. We could grab dinner outside tomorrow if you're free."

"This is enough for two?"

He's inviting you to his place. Is he insane?

You shake your head once again. "No, Jungkook, I really don't want to impose on—"

Jungkook cut you off with a hearty laugh.

"__, you won't be imposing. Come on, I bet you haven't had dinner yet either." When you don't answer, he insists again, "I think I have Thai tea around here somewhere."

You narrow your eyes at him.

"You think I'll go inside just 'cause you have Thai tea?" you say, raising your brow at him, challenging Jungkook to say something to that. He shrugs with a smile of amusement. Then you break your demeanor and sigh. "You're actually right. I can probably be bribed with daily boba supply."

Jungkook laughs at your absurd claim.

"No matter what's on the line?"

"Yeah," Then you decide to joke a little, "If you're the one on the line."

His laughter only becomes louder, and you shake your head at him because you genuinely wonder why he laughs so much at your nonsensical jokes. You would consider yourself funny but not that funny.

But this is good. Joking is good. This dynamic is surely better than you avoiding him.

"You're so..." Jungkook stops to look at you and you stare back at him. That moment stretches into a minute until you feel the hair on your nape stand.

It's the night air, and not at all the almost intimate way he looked into your eyes.

That's what you'll tell yourself tonight.

"I'm so what?" You decide to break the silence, seemingly snapping Jungkook out of the trance he's put himself in awhile ago.

He shakes his head. "Nothing."

"Okay, now you're just making me curious."

"It's nothing."

"Okay, I'm gonna let it pass this time..." you say, eliciting a low chuckle from him.

He must realize that you've both been standing on his porch for a while now.

"Come," he says, gesturing inside his place.

Your steps are a bit hesitant as you follow him inside. But nonetheless, you both get in, Jungkook offering you a pair of home slipper that are almost twice as big as your feet as he locks the door.

When you let your eyes wander, you're more than surprised to see the state of the interior.

Jungkook's place is surprisingly... clean.

Sure, it must be because there aren't any decorations or much furniture yet, but from your experiences with men, the one thing they have in common is that they are messy. It's almost impossible to not see clothes strewn all over their places or food wrappings on any surface at a corner, but Jungkook's is spotless.

Except maybe for the few boxes that stand beside the door of the room all the way across the room which you assume is his bedroom, but other than that, there's no indicator that a man is residing inside. Admittedly, it's even cleaner than your own.

"Sorry, it's a little messy. I haven't unpacked all of my stuff. Got busy."

He seems to notice you eyeing the aforementioned boxes, and hearing his words, you shake your head.

"Oh, no, trust me. This is the cleanest place I've ever seen." You say truthfully.

"Thanks." Jungkook responds with a smile.

His apartment, like yours, has an open layout so from where you are in the living room, you can see him putting the bags on the kitchen counter, unloading them and starting to transfer some of them into his own plates.

You approach his direction to find yourself useful.

"Is it okay if we eat at the coffee table? My table set hasn't arrived yet..." he rubbs the back of his head, a sheepish smile painting his face.

"It's fine."

His coffee table is wide enough for all the food to fit, anyway. That's what you thought when you bring all the food to the living room, sitting on the floorboards opposite of him.

Before you start dinner, Jungkook asks if you want to watch something on the TV.

"It's like a jumbotron." Is your throw-away comment when he turns on his huge ass TV. It's genuinely so big you aren't even exaggerating. You are not that good with estimation but the screen is probably the same height as you...

"What?" Jungkook chuckles, looking at you all confused.

"Nothing. Just that your TV is so big."

"Yeah? I wanted to buy this one for so long and I got really lucky to get it on sale here. I have the Criterion channel so I've been wanting to watch stuff with an OLED screen—" he cuts himself off and looks at you with a hint of embarrassment. "Sorry."

You look away before you can go on a spiral about how cute he looked with a proud smile on his face while he was going off about how he got his jumbotron on sale. He was geeking out about a freaking TV. But you guess it makes sense for a tech guy like him.

"Uh, what do you want to watch?" He asks, going through his streaming services.

The big TV and the streaming services just click so much in the context of him. You, in contrast, cannot relate. After forgetting to unsubscribe to Netflix a few months ago, it automatically stole the thirteen thousand won from your account, and since then, you're more than traumatized to pay for any streaming services until today. Pirating is bad but so is capitalism.

"Anything is fine."

"Okay."

You really couldn't have cared less about what he's going to click on, but National Geographic pops up on his big screen and you think he must be joking but he starts tuning in with genuine interest.

Oh. Wow.

He's just a big nerd trapped in a hot human body, huh?

How cute. And how unbelievably hot to discover this about him.

After a few minutes into the documentary, it turns out that whales are interesting to a certain degree. Sure, Jungkook's huge ass screen made it a little funny because the pictures are too big, but they did pique your interest a little, especially when Jungkook would add in a little of his own knowledge about them. When you asked him about the weird little stick thing on their mouth, he told you that they were tusks and only male narwhals had them, and that they used it as some sort of sensory tool. He admitted he hyperfixated on whales for a while when he saw them first on Discovery Channel as a kid.

You didn't even have to pretend to be engrossed, you were just in genuine awe of his interests and how enthusiastic he was about sharing them.

Food is starting to run out, making you realize that it's been awhile since you've eaten Thai food and you should probably eat them once again tomorrow.

You're just about to ask Jungkook which restaurant he got it from when he beats you to speaking first.

"You're still in your work clothes."

You stop.

"Yeah..."

And then you're reminded of why you're here in the first place.

It isn't for the whales or for Thai food, that's for sure.

You haven't changed out of your work clothes, indeed, since you planned going out for dinner in hopes of talking to Jungkook while ago. The night is going so well so far that you actually forgot about that. But then since he already cocked the gun, might as well just pull the trigger and get it over with.

You look at him, an uneasy feeling settling in your nerves.

"So... about your text earlier."

There is a hint of a smile on Jungkook's lips when he nods his head.

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't me." You say, trying to look for a reaction, trying to see if he'll insist or anything.

But Jungkook just nods his head again.

"I see."

He does not seem to see, though, and you know right then and there that your cover is finally and officially blown.

"Okay, I lied. That was me." You take back your words, jutting your bottom lip out when you add, "Turns out we work at the same company. And that you're apparently my boss."

"And you're my cousin's girlfriend."

You gasp audibly.

So he knows you were at that party! How? And what? He thought you were Jimin's girlfriend for real? Wait, does he not know it was all Jimin's ruse?

"How did you know that?"

"They mentioned Jimin's girlfriend was in the bathroom when I arrived. I asked Jimin about it and he told me her name was __."

You would face-palm yourself if Jungkook wasn't present.

Ugh. Of course, Jimin doesn't know.

"Well, okay, just so you know, I was a paid actress." You tell Jungkook, which earns you a laugh from him. Then you cover your mouth, realizing you shouldn't have said that. "Oh—uhm, do you know...?" You trail off, looking at him expectantly and hoping he knows what you meant.

You swear you remember Jimin telling you that Jungkook knows about him being gay, but now you are second-guessing yourself and you will be in trouble if you did slip up.

Thankfully, Jungkook nods, seemingly understanding where you're getting at.

"Don't worry, I know." You heave a sigh of relief at his verbal confirmation. Jungkook takes the tom yum goong and started peeling the shrimp from the bowl, continuing to say, "And Jimin brings a fake date to every family gathering, so I knew right away he was lying about dating somebody," Jungkook chuckles, and as if an afterthought, he adds, "I wish I could've seen you act. You two left so early."

Well... you did play a role in that, you think. But you can't tell him you purposefully didn't go back to the table that night because you saw him.

"Oh, Jimin had to send Joon off at the airport." You say, which is actually true. For a change.

He nods. "His boyfriend, yeah... did he go to Italy with him?"

You wonder how he knows about the Italy thing. Jimin, probably. They're close after all—

"Namjoon's a close friend as well." Jungkook adds, as if having read your thoughts.

"Ah," you nod, not surprised at all about their apparent link.

Wealthy people do have a tiny world.

"Jimin hasn't actually contacted me yet since that night."

It has been a few days, and you're starting to think he's dead or something. Your calls go straight to voicemail and your messages do not send. You've sent him a few on social media as well but it seems like he hasn't been online at all.

"I'm worried about him. Has Namjoon said anything?" You look at Jungkook, hoping he'll say yes.

But he shakes his head instead.

"I wouldn't be worried, though. I think they're together."

"In Italy?"

"Yeah."

You won't be surprised if that's the case. Jimin is the king of spontaneity and if he did fly off to another country abruptly with his boyfriend, you won't question it.

You do miss him though and you're gonna make sure to make him feel bad for not telling you anything soon.

"You're right." You sigh.

Jungkook has been peeling shrimp for awhile now, setting them aside in a small bowl. You think he's gonna eat it himself, but you're surprised when he slides off the bowl to your direction.

"There. I noticed you weren't eating the tom yum. You don't like it?" Jungkook asks, smiling at you.

You can't help it; blood rushes to your cheeks at the realization that he just peeled shrimps for you.

Is this normal for him? Like, does he just go around and do things like these for friends?

You will scream in your bathroom later when you get home.

"Oh, no, uh... I'm actually allergic to shrimp." You give him a tight-lipped smile.

You feel bad at the way Jungkook's expression drops as soon as you said that.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't know," He takes the small bowl quickly and looks at you apologetically.

"No, it's fine! I didn't tell you either."

"I'm really sorry. I should've asked first."

"Jungkook," you chuckle. "It's fine. Thank you, anyway."

"I could've done serious damage to you, huh?"

"Yeah, you'd have to tell Jimin you killed me because you fed me shrimp."

"Don't say that," Jungkook laughs. "How long are you friends now, by the way?"

You nip on your chopsticks, answering him.

"We've been friends since college... so almost ten years."

"That's really nice."

And then you remember to ask, "Did you tell him?"

"What?"

"That you know me?"

"No. Not yet, at least. Didn't have the chance." Jungkook proceeds to eat the shrimp himself and you have to keep yourself from letting out a breath of relief at his answer. "Did you tell him?"

"No. Uh— I know this is weird. But... can you not tell him?" You ask. Jungkook looks at you for a bit, studying your face. You clear your throat when seconds passed and he still hasn't said anything. "It's just that I want to tell him on my own time." You decide to add.

"Okay." He says after a while, smiling.

Thank god he doesn't ask any more questions.

"Thanks."

And now there's another elephant in the room that you still need to address.

A bit hesitant, you open with, "Did you uhm..." You think about how to word it, but then you think, fuck it. "Did you know by that time at the party that I work at Blue Nexus?"

Jungkook shakes his head.

"No, I saw you at the company and only put two and two together."

Your brows furrow. "When?"

"Uh... earlier this morning."

"Oh. Yeah..."

You don't know exactly why, but you feel a tinge of disappointment that he meant earlier. You really thought he recognized you at the ceremony.

But then you shake the feeling off and jokingly narrow your eyes at him. "Why didn't you tell me about the party, then?"

"Why, did you see me there?"

You shut your mouth. Right. You're supposed to pretend you didn't seen him that time.

"No." You lie.

"So I thought it didn't matter... though I was pretty surprised when I saw you today."

"Ugh, I thought I hid myself pretty well." You lament dramatically, embarrassed that you really thought covering your face with your hair would do you any good.

"Nah," Jungkook shakes his head while laughing at your misery, "I thought, "who is this five-foot woman hiding in the back","

"Wow." You gasp, not believing his audacity. But you're also thankful that he makes talking to him so easy. The way your conversations goes from funny to serious is so seamless, all because Jungkook knows exactly how to turn the wheels around.

"Kidding. I actually recognized you by your blouse..." he gestures at your baby blue polo sleeves, making you furrow your brows, not quite sure how he meant. But then, he continues, "Did the ink ever come off?"

Oh. Right! He had seen you wear the blouse before and even heard you tell him the story about how the jammed printer caused a blot of ink to stain your cuff.

You're surprised he even remembers that. It seems so long ago.

Raising your arm to examine the cuff area of your blouse, you look at it with small amusement.

"Yeah, it did, actually."

"How did you do it?"

You deadpan, "You're not asking me how I do my laundry, Jungkook."

"Hey, I love doing laundry," You raise your brow, not believing him, but Jungkook insists. "No, I really do."

"Okay." You nod, chuckling because he really seems way too eager to prove to you that he loves doing laundry.

What you've found out about him so far is so... mesmerizing, to say the least. With how he looks like – you meant, the tattoos and the body – you would most likely assume he likes guy stuff. You know, big macho man stuff like that. But turns out, he's just a guy who likes big TVs and NatGeo and... laundry.

He's such a fascinating person.

"I'm also not your boss." Jungkook suddenly says, making you look up at him.

"Well, you're CTO, you technically are." You point out.

"Technically, yes. But I don't oversee the accounting department, so you're not really working for me, which means I'm not your boss."

The mental gymnastics make you frown but you get his point.

"Okay, that's true. But still... your father is Mr. Jeon."

"Would you believe me if I denied that?" He jokes, the tilt in his voice telling you he is.

"You kind of look the same, so I probably wouldn't believe you."

"Really? A lot of people say I look more like my mother..."

You've seen the pictures. It's more of a split, really. But you can't tell him that obviously.

Silence sits in his living room for a while, the NatGeo narrator serving as background noise at this point.

You drop your chopsticks down and sigh. Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows, worried about your sudden seriousness.

"So, you're not like weirded out about this whole thing?" You ask him straight to the point.

Joking is good, as you said. And this night is going better than you thought. But it feels like you are just glossing over the facts, and you need to address it with him lest it becomes a problem in the future. You don't know how exactly they are going to be; you just have a feeling in your heart that they are going to.

"The what?" Jungkook says, looking genuinely confused, as if he doesn't know what your deal is.

"The I'm-your-cousin's-best-friend? And the fact that you're an executive at the company I work at and we live in the same building?" You lay out, sounding exasperated now that you're taking it all out.

Jungkook stares at you for a bit.

"Why would that weird me out?"

He isn't being dense, you can see that. He's just plain confused.

You sigh once again. Seems like you've been doing a lot of that these past few days.

"Because it's just... too many eggs in the basket."

Jungkook chuckles, wiping his hands with a tissue. "Isn't it good you have many eggs in the basket?"

You glare at him, and it makes him raise his hands as a peace offering.

"It's bad because..."

"... because?" Jungkook, now with his hands clean, props an elbow on the coffee table, looking right into your eyes as he leans closer to your direction.

You look away.

"Because it means I can't hang out with you anymore."

When you look at him again, the smile is wiped off his face, suddenly exchanged with a frown.

"Why?"

"Because again, it's too many eggs in the basket and—" Running out with metaphors, you say the first thing that was off the top of your head, "That makes you my uncle."

Jungkook's jaw drops a bit.

"Your thought process really amazes me."

You grimace, already expecting that. "Thanks, I get that a lot."

"No, it's really... interesting."

He doesn't look judgmental at all, just full of genuine awe, but you're eager to come to your own defense and so you say, "You don't get it? It's like—" You fling your hands around, trying to explain what you just said. "You don't have a close relationship with your uncle, right? 'Cause it's awkward. When you're with them it's like being with your boss, which means you can't be friends with them 'cause, again, it's awkward."

Jungkook still looks like he doesn't know what the hell you're talking about, but he nods his head, nonetheless.

"Okay... but I have a very close relationship with the CEO..."

You pout. "That's not what I meant."

And when he chuckles at that, you know he's fucking with you and understand exactly what you were trying to say; fooling around as if you aren't having an internal crisis.

Jungkook must've seen how you're genuinely not finding anything funny and stops.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me the past few days?" He raises his brow, but his voice is gentle as he speaks.

You didn't think he'd confront you about that, but you decide to look away when you try to lie as an answer.

"No...?"

Jungkook only chuckle at your indignation.

"Okay, okay, let's divide and conquer, yeah?" He smiles at you. Warm and soft. "First, you're Jimin's best friend, what's the issue? It just means you must be a good person to hang around with because you're friends with the person I'm close to. Second, I'm not your boss, will you please stop saying that? And third, we're neighbors... so what? We just happened to rent in the same building. No big deal."

Your frown just gets deeper at what he said because... he's right. So right.

You overreacted the whole time you tried to hide from him.

With nothing else to add, you weakly ask, "Okay but... can you fire me?"

In your head, it's a relevant question. You don't know how the chain of command worked at the company. He's an executive which probably means he has firing rights, right? What if he finds you too rude towards him over the past few days that he wants to take your job away from you? Can he fire you because of personal vendetta?

"Asking the important question?" Jungkook teases.

"Damn straight, I am. I mean, I did complain to you about my job before, and it turns out you're one of the executives at the company."

"I can see the wheels in your head turning but sorry to say I'm not actually an official executive. I'm just an interim CTO. And no, I don't have the right to fire you," Jungkook chuckles, seemingly amused at your thoughts. "And you can complain to me about your job all you want."

You send him a suspicious look.

"No, thank you."

"Seriously?" He asks incredulously. "Interim CTO or Jimin's cousin or not, I'm still Jeon Jungkook. Just your plain ol' neighbor."

"You say that but what if I arrive to my desk tomorrow with my things packed because you told Ms. Jung all the things I told you about her?" You squint your eyes at him.

"God, you're unbelievable." Jungkook says in between his laughter.

"Okay, but I wanna ask you something." You say. Jungkook hums. "I'm curious... why here?"

It isn't like your apartment complex is abominable or anything of the sort. When you were still on the look-out of apartments five years ago, here was the only decent one that did not cause you a 3-month pay. It's why you chose it in the first place. The unit is big enough for yourself and it's located at the center of the city, which means that it's near establishments that are relevant to your daily living. The bus station is also just a few minutes walk, and it only takes you an hour commute to get to your company building. It was the best out of all your choices back then.

However, for a guy like Jungkook, you wonder why he isn't at the big shot complexes like in Cheongdam or Hannam. You don't doubt he can afford those.

But Jungkook surprises you with his answer.

"It's cheaper."

You can't help but raise your brow.

"What?" And then as if realizing your look, Jungkook chuckles. "Oh, I see... you think I'm, like, rich?"

You shrug.

Jungkook answer with a simple, "My parents are loaded. And anyway, it's near the company. I also really like it here so far. Hannam felt like prison when I stayed there in my first week. Guards were way too strict."

Nodding, you recall Jimin's stories about that gated community when he himself stayed there for merely three months. It makes sense for it to almost seem like prison, though, given that most people who live there are high profile.

"I commute on my way to work. What about you?"

"I bought a parking spot nearby; it's surprisingly cheap compared to America."

You wouldn't know because you've never had a car in your life. First of all, you refuse to apply for a driving license because you're sure you'll kill yourself on the road. Besides, cars are expensive. You'll stick to your buses and trains all your life even though commuting sucks ass sometimes.

But you nod at Jungkook's words.

Soon, you both engage in more conversation about yourselves until you notice the time.

"It's getting late, I should go. I have work tomorrow." You tell him with a pout, genuinely disappointed about having to go.

Jungkook looks over at the clock hanging on his wall and then turns to you, "We have work tomorrow, you mean."

You blush at that for no reason.

"Well..."

"Okay, I'll walk you to your place."

"What?" You laugh. "That's ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous about it? You're so short, the crickets might attack you." Jungkook says with a serious face.

That makes you frown instantly.

"Ugh, you've got to stop saying that. I'm starting to dislike you."

"Hmm."

Jungkook indeed followed you on your way out, though, but not without you insisting that he didn't need to walk you to your door because it was literally just across his, but Jungkook was persistent and you had no choice but to walk the five steps it took to get in front of your apartment from his own.

He's still laughing when your face is still contorted into an unpleasant expression.

"Okay, good night." You say. You point to his chest absent-mindedly, but you quickly take it back when you feel how hard it is. "A-and stop calling me short, I'm not. The __ karma is real, I have Jimin to prove that."

"Fine, I'll stop." Jungkook smiles, watching as you enter your threshold.

"Good."

You stand on your door, leaning over the frame and not closing it just yet.

Jungkook gives you a heart-warming smile before he says, "See you tomorrow."

And he speaks the words so gently that you feel your cheeks heating once again.

"S-see you as well."

"You look banging in that polo shirt." Jimin says, obviously chatting you up because the moment you accepted his call earlier this morning, you did not hesitate to tell him off about going MIA on you so suddenly.

"It's literally just a plain white polo."

"Okay, and you still look good in it, so..." He shrugs, but you can see the look on his face, sheepish and apologetic.

You scoff.

"You can't compliment me out of sulking. I'm mad at you."

There's a pout that forms on his lips quickly; a tactic so predictable you almost roll your eyes.

"I know... but I told you! Joon and I spent the last week—"

"Fucking each other to Sunday and back, blah blah blah. Still, you could've told me you went to Italy, you slut."

Jimin lets out a loud laugh at your blunt words.

"Slut shaming in the big year of 2028? I thought you were better than that." He shakes his head, pretending to be pointed and curt with the bitchy look on his face. But you know he's just teasing to get you out of your own bitchy mode as well.

It works every time.

You don't fight the way your eyes roll on their own accord as a response this time. Jimin compromises, "Okay, I'm sorry! For not telling. It's just that I've turned off my phone for the past week because I'm sure dad and his secretary are going to blow up my phone— they are, by the way, so cut me some slack."

Forgiveness comes easy when you take into consideration what he's been through for the past few weeks. The spontaneous trip to Italy and him flying along with his boyfriend may come off as immature, but you know deep inside he's just wanting to get away from the reality of his life: which is pretty much toxic family with incredibly high expectations and boring ass management school.

You are certain they are giving him shit, and you don't need to add more to that.

It's 7:20 and you're currently prepping for work. Privacy is almost moot in your friendship with Jimin, so you're quite literally dressing up in front of him on call, sweeping your hair to the side as you pull up your trousers.

"Okay... are you having fun there?" You ask instead.

Jimin smiles a knowing grin. "Babe, I just told you me and my boyfriend are having sex 24/7 in here, I'm having the most fun in my life."

You button your trousers and groan at his words.

"I wish I was also in Italy."

"I mean, you could."

You give him a look.

"And what? Third wheel you and Joon? No thanks."

Jimin just shrugs, the angle of his camera going shaky for a bit as he moves to lay on what you assume is his bed.

"I don't know, girl, maybe you'll find a nice Italian man here."

That earns him a snort from you while you duck to wear your sandals.

"I've long forgotten that fantasy since I was 19."

"You're not a stranger to relapsing..." Jimin clocks and that makes you shoot up straight so he can see the look of incredulity on your face as an immediate reaction to what he just said.

"Rude!"

Jimin just snorts. "Okay but for real, how are things going over there for you?"

You sigh. "Same old, same old. Pretty and single and working a very boring job."

Your best friend can't help but mirror the wince on your face.

"You could change the last two but never the first one, babe. So, you see, you're still miles ahead." He says as a matter of fact, sounding like he's giving out some sort of motivational speech.

"Lucky me," you noted with a straight face. You start rummaging your bag to see if you got everything you need. Then, there's something at the tip of your tongue. Something you've been wanting to open up to him. So, you start by clearing your throat – subtly, you hope.

"But you know, life's pretty... eventful the past few days."

Jimin quirks his eyebrow at that, obviously catching onto what could possibly be a new news.

You bite your lower lip, nibbling on it slightly as you contemplate whether to tell him about what you've been up to.

For some weird reason, you still haven't told him about Jungkook, and it seems like Jungkook has made good on his promise not to tell your best friend because if he did break it, Jimin would be inquiring you all about it now.

You figure now is sort of the perfect time to... maybe tell him.

"Uh, well... not eventful, per se, just a little..." you trailed off, finding a bit of uncertainty in your voice. You see Jimin's face morphing into more of a confused look rather than intrigued as the second passes. Pursing your lips into a thin line, you finish your previous sentence with, "Just a little different, I guess."

"Don't edge me, I swear to god." Jimin threatens playfully, making you chuckle.

"It's not something groundbreaking, okay? It's just the, uh, do you still remember Mr—"

The yawn that Jimin lets out stops you from completing your words, and you remember him mentioning a while ago that it's currently midnight from where he is.

"Ugh," Jimin groans, "Sorry, I slept so late yesterday. Anyway, go on, what were you saying?"

The uncertainty you felt a while ago increases, and you decide that maybe, now is so not the perfect time to bring up Jungkook, his cousin.

So, you shake your head, smiling at him, packing the words of your confession in a box that that you place at the back of your head, ready for unpacking when the time calls for it – which you don't exactly know when.

"Nah, go to sleep. This conversation can wait."

"You're gonna kill me with curiosity."

Rolling your eyes, you make a gesture of shoving him.

"I have to catch up with my bus soon, anyway." You say, dodging his insistence.

"Just tell me pretty please, I won't be able to sleep!" He dramatically says.

You roll your eyes again at the theatrics.

"It's really nothing big."

Well, it is. Sort of. Or maybe it's not, and you're just doing that thing again where you put too much thought over something inconsequential.

You swear you were ready to tell him about Jungkook, having even hyped yourself in the bathroom a few days ago and practicing what you're going to tell Jimin. But as of this moment, right now, it suddenly feels... unimportant. Not in a negative way. Just in a... does-it-really-matter way.

Jimin will find out eventually. But not now when you're not totally ready.

"I know what this is," Jimin suddenly says. At his suspicious tone, your heart starts to pick up the rate of its beat. You can see the way Jimin squints his eyes at you, and you wish he doesn't see the way you're slightly frozen. "You got back with your ex, Hansung."

You hope he sees the disgust on your face the moment he let out the words.

"Oh my god, hell no!" Is your instant response. Just hearing that name again made the hairs on your nape rise. "Jimin, what the fuck."

Jimin rolls his eyes. "You look so nervous, that's how you look like when you're about to tell me you've done something stupid."

Okay, fair. The assumption is coming from a valid basis. It makes you frown at him.

"You're such a bitch." Jimin laughs at the way you deflate. You let out a sign. "It's just... Taemu. From the IT dep."

"That guy?!" He exclaims and quickly covers his mouth. "The cute guy you refused to date a second time... you're finally dating him again?"

"What do you mean, finally?" You narrow your eyes at him, surprise at the positive comment about Taemu. "Jesus, I thought you were with me when I said I found him boring."

"What can I say? He can be cute and boring." He points out, as if he did not talk behind the Taemu's back when you ranted about the guy to him.

"You're fake as hell." You laugh, unbelieving.

Jimin joins your laughter, finding his sudden switch up funny as well.

"But you're, for real, dating him again? It means he still likes you?" He asks, obviously intrigued at this newfound information.

Unfortunately, it's a bit of a lie. You feel bad, but it is a great scapegoat to dodge the bullet of the conversation about Jungkook.

"I don't know... we're talking."

Which, for once, is true. Taemu and you did not exactly end on a good note (courtesy to you, boo), but you work in the same company, after all. There are times in the company's cafeteria where you bump into him, and it would have felt weird if you just snub him and act like you did not have an acquaintanceship before he asked you out to a date. Taemu's ultimately still your friend, and there are no hard feelings on his part, you can confidently say. He's... nice, you guess. Somehow of an afterthought. You're starting to think you completely misjudged him on your first date.

You take a quick trip to the fridge to grab a glass of cold water since Jimin is on loudspeaker anyway.

"That reminds me," Jimin suddenly quips. You hum to acknowledge him. "My cousin now works at your company, right? You still remember Jungkook? Have you met him yet?"

You couldn't help it; the water splattered all over the place when you heard Jungkook's name from his mouth.

Jimin quickly asks you a series of "are you okays" and you respond with a "yes" that's interrupted with a cough every time; a weak nod with a raised hand, telling him not to worry.

"Water just got in the wrong track." You reason, coughing and slapping your chest to regain your breathing. When you see wet spots on your shirt, you let out a whiny groan.

"You're so jumpy today. You're sure you're fine?" Jimin checks once again, and you have to bite your tongue to not show the way you froze a little at his observation.

You nod at him, showing him an expression that hopefully conveys he's the one being weird and definitely not you.

"Yeah, it's fine." You look down on your shirt. You're debating whether to stick with it and just let it dry in the bus later or completely change out of it. "But uh, your cousin! I did see him. We had a ceremony a week ago."

You would've said that with a smile, but Jimin knows you too well that he'll surely know it's fake. So, you spoke with an almost straight face. What Jimin says next surprises you a bit, though.

"I hope you meet each other," Jimin's excitement is visible on his face. "It'd be kinda fun; my closest cousin and my best friend... imagine that? I think you'll like each other." He seems to be so geeked about the idea that even when you're internally having a crisis, you can't help but find it cute. But then his smile gets wiped off his lips just as quickly as it showed. "It'd be awkward, though. He's, kinda like, your boss, right?"

You suddenly remember Jungkook's words about him not being your boss. It makes your lips curl, but you have to shake off the thought.

You give him a hesitant look.

"Well, not really, but he's an executive. So... it would be awkward. I guess."

Jimin nods, agreeing with you.

"It's crazy though, I never thought he'd be working at uncle's company so soon..." He trails off and he looks deep in thought, like his words were just supposed to be inner thoughts and you're not supposed to hear them. But he shakes his head after a while, moving on to another subject that makes you quietly sigh in relief. "Anyway, I'm sure I'm keeping you up. I'll sleep and you better tell me all about Kang Taemu when I wake up, okay?"

You chuckle, shaking your head at the threatening tone of his voice.

"I will. When will you come home, anyway?"

He groans, obviously not wanting to discuss home for the reasons you know exactly what. He confirms your assumption by telling so.

"Honestly, I don't know. I'm trying to avoid responsibilities as much as I can. God, I wish you were also here. There's a bar Joon and I discovered that sells these insane bottomless mimosas."

Before you could reply, Jimin goes off the frame suddenly, but the lower part of his face makes you see the way his lips curling up into a smile and saying, "Hey, hon."

There's a greeting from another person on the other end of the line – one that you are certainly familiar with.

Jimin moves his camera and as expected, you see Namjoon waving at you.

"Hey, __,"

You mirror the smile on his face. "Hi, Joon."

"Let's not keep her up. She has to go to work," Jimin tells Namjoon. "Anyway, bye. Kick some ass at work."

Laughing, you tell them, "I'll be off. Good night to you both."

When the call ends, you look down to your shirt once again, seeing that the little wet spots still haven't dried yet. Sighing, you decide to change out of it because it looked untidy.

Too bad you didn't check the time when you were doing it though, because as soon as you were done buttoning the new shirt you've worn, the clock hits 7:55 am. You bus arrives at exactly 8 am.

"Shit." You hiss, scrambling out of the apartment hoping that you can somehow run your way fast to the station and hop on it on time.

But you're no The Flash or Usain Bolt. To piss you off more, the strap of your bag got caught up with the handle of your door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You whisper, hastily untangling the strap off the door which won't let up.

"__?" As soon as you hear the familiar voice, you stop with what you were doing and turn to Jungkook, conjuring up a what you can only hope a pleasant enough smile.

"Hey!" You say, chirpy in that weird way. You hope he didn't catch you cursing the door.

But with the way he was looking at your hand on your door, you knew he did.

Sigh. He just really has to catch you in your most vulnerable moments, huh?

"Good morning," Jungkook greets with a smile, ignoring the case at hand. As usual, he looks put together with his sleek suit and styled hair and eyeglasses.

"Morning," You say, slowly taking off the strap around the handle, gentle and slower this time.

Fucking door handle, you thought bitterly.

As you do that, you catch a glimpse of your wristwatch. Shoot.

You look back at Jungkook apologetically, moving away from your porch. "Nice seeing you. I have to catch my bus."

"When is it coming?"

"At exactly... two minutes from now. Bye! Gotta run!" You were about ready to literally run but Jungkook calls out your name.

"Wait!"

You stop coming down the flight of stairs to ask him, "What?"

"I can drive us together there."

"Oh," You slap your hands on your trousers. "That's so nice of you. Thank you—" And then suddenly, his words register, and you take back your quick agreement. You hate that you're so slow sometimes, but it's innate at this point. "I mean, no! That's a nice offer, but no, thank you."

"You won't catch your bus at this point," Jungkook says as a matter of fact, even taking a quick glance at his own watch. He begins to walk down the stairs to walk with you. "It only takes thirty minutes to drive by car to the company." When it takes you long to answer, Jungkook insists, already predicting the "no" that you're going to hit him with. "Come on, do you want to be late?"

"No."

Jungkook smiles at you. "Okay, so...?"

You purse your lips into a thin line, blowing your bangs and giving him a sheepish look.

"Okay, fine. But I owe you."

The smile on his face only grows wider. "More than fine by me."

He leads you both to the parking building nearby where his car was, only taking about a few minutes to walk towards.

When Jungkook points at his car, you follow his behind him shortly, stopping on the one side of the door. You're just about to open it when you feel Jungkook looming behind you, his hand extended forward to open the same door. You stretch your neck to look at him in question, making sure to keep a decent distance between you both.

"Uh...?" You utter.

And then it hits you.

He's trying to open the door for you.

You take a step back after the realization, feeling shy about the prospect of such a chivalrous act from him.

"This is the driver's seat."

"Oh!" You exclaimed. Eyes widening, you walk backwards to give him more space. "Yeah! Fuck... sorry," You apologize, cheeks starting to heat in embarrassment.

You round about the car and enter the passenger seat quickly, seeing Jungkook already set in his own place. You look to the side, almost pressing yourself to the window just so he won't see the way you wince.

So fucking embarrassing. This is exactly what you write about in your diary during high school days.

"Your seatbelt," Jungkook says, and you look at him with widened eyes. Right. You were way too deep in embarrassment that you forgot about it. You fiddle with the seatbelt a few seconds before he speaks once again, "Let me."

And you couldn't have stopped him from leaning closer to you to grab the seatbelt and wear it around your waist, carefully and gently, making you hitch your breath at the sudden proximity.

Of course you've noticed it way before, but this is the first time you were close enough to deduce that he smells like green apple and fresh laundry. A little different from the musky scent that you were used to smelling on men that you've been with before.

"There." He smiles at you before sitting back on his chair, wearing his own seatbelt.

You are way too stunned to acknowledge what he did that for the first few minutes, you're just quiet, mind flying to some place. You only snap out of it when Jungkook speaks again.

"Slept late last night?"

You shake your head at his question. "No... just facetime with Jimin this morning. You were right to tell me not to worry, he's with Joon."

Jungkook nods at your words, turning the ignition of the car. He starts to reverse, and you feel yourself growing embarrassingly hot when he does the thing of putting his arm around the back of your seat while the other spins the wheel, stretching his neck to look back.

You decide to look away for your own sake.

"Uh, anyway, I'm really sorry."

"Hm?" Jungkook hums, eyes on the road as he starts driving.

If you think about it, you were just at his place a few nights ago eating dinner with him, and now, you somehow find yourself in his car as he drives you both to work. His constant kindness is not lost on you... but Jungkook's casualty makes it seem like this is just his plain nature.

You quirk your head to the side.

"Are you free later for lunch?"

"I can arrange my sched. Why?"

"Do you want to go together?" You ask. You'd say the offer is a form of compensation for his help today, but getting lunch together for the pure sake of it doesn't sound bad, either. Both works, so you're only a bit hopeful as you try to look for his reaction.

Jungkook has a hint of surprise on his face when he takes a quick look at you before turning his attention back on the road.

"Really?" There's a little lilt to his voice, as if he's not surer if you're being serious.

You shrug to appear casual. "If you're not too busy, that is."

He shakes his head, smiling. "Where are we going?"

"You're gonna find out later." You tell him. Jungkook cocks his head to the side, intrigued.

"Okay... where should I meet you, then? At your office?"

"Oh, god, no." Is your quick response. Jungkook immediately looks at you in offense, but it's more like amusement when he stares longer. At that, you wave your hand so he doesn't get the wrong idea. "No, no, I mean— it's just rude if an executive, like, comes to our office."

"You're still not hung up on the boss thing?" You roll your eyes at his teasing tone which earns a hearty chuckle from Jungkook. He shakes his head playfully at you. "I doubt anyone would care."

You jut your bottom lip out because he's probably right. But still, your co-workers would ask, and you're not trying to dig yourself a hole by making yourself news of the day because the newly appointed interim CTO just walked into your office for what? Lunch? The HR would have a field day.

"Maybe we can meet at the parking lot?" You offer, thinking it's the sensible place.

Jungkook smiles. "Alright."

You had to stay behind Joonhwi and Sol as lunch came, making an excuse about going out with a friend as opposed to not coming with them. In your head, you think you were doing Joonhwi a favor.

After that, you were welcomed with text from Jungkook when you turned on your phone. It said he was already at the basement where he parked earlier, so it wasn't exactly hard to spot him right away the moment you got there.

The drive to your destination was quick enough to only amount to around fifteen minutes. As soon as Jungkook managed to park his car somewhere, you lead him to where the place you'd chosen for lunch.

When he finally registered where you were, his amusement does not go unnoticed.

"I've always wanted to go here," He tells you, looking around the stores in-line by the street.

You look back at him in surprise.

"You haven't been here?" Jungkook nods and you want to ask him if he's kidding around, but then you realize he's no ordinary person like most of the people you know in your life, recalling that Jimin's first time in a marketplace like this was only when you introduced him to it during sophomore year. "But you eat street food, right?" You ask him, even though you know he does. You did spend nights on that food truck around your building.

"Of course I do," Jungkook chuckles, rubbing a hand at the back of his head, seemingly shy. "I just never tried it here."

You give him a wide grin. "You're gonna enjoy it here. Follow me, I have a favorite store here that sells really good hotteok."

You spent the better part of the morning thinking about the place where you can bring him, opting out of going to cafes and restaurant because it was just getting kind of old. Aside from the fact that you stopped going to the food truck across your apartment building, it's also been a while since you enjoyed some street food yourself. You're also delighted to know that this is apparently Jungkook's first time going here.

The area is usually livelier in the later hours of the night, but there are still a lot of people by lunch time. Students, civilians, tourists... a usual day in Seoul, you can say.

When you reach the hotteok stall, you ask for your usual right away, almost asking the same thing for Jungkook but remember that he might actually want something else.

"Do you want other flavors instead?" You look back at him while he stands behind you with his hands in his pockets. He's forgone the coat – it's somewhere in his car seat – which left him with his usual polo shirt, sleeves folded up to his forearms. He kind of looks broody with his stance and you know... the exposed tattoos – but he looks adorable when he gives you that familiar easy-going smile at your question.

"I'll have whatever you're having."

You're hungry for a while now so you don't wait a long time to take a bite of the hotteok when it's finally served. It's hot, and Jungkook laughs as you learn it the hard way, sputtering as you move the food away from you.

"Fuck!" You curse, blowing air and fanning your mouth which doesn't really do anything.

"Slow down," Jungkook says in between his chuckles. You feel his arm resting on your back as some sort of support. "I'll get you some water."

It only takes him a few seconds to stop by a nearby stall to get you some bottled water, and you thank him after drinking it quickly.

"Sorry 'bout that," You apologize, smiling sheepishly.

"There's a—" Jungkook gestures at his mouth. You arch your brow at him, a bit confused. He tries again. "Something in your—" He interrupts himself, shaking his head, and takes out a handkerchief from the depths of his slacks.

Your immediate reaction is to take a few steps back when he goes to wipe at your mouth. Jungkook stops, pausing his movement. You give him an awkward thumbs up which prompts him to continue.

"Done."

You choose to gloss over that occurrence, taking another bite of hotteok after that.

"You know I always wondered why I don't see you going out of your apartment every morning." You start a conversation while you walk together mindlessly.

"You wonder... why?" Jungkook looks at you for a brief moment. With a teasing grin, he says, "You wanna see me every day?"

You gasp.

"Gross, Jungkook." You say, absolutely scandalized at what he said.

He just laughs, shaking his head, amused at your reaction. It makes you roll your eyes.

"I just figured you don't commute so you don't need to leave early." You tell him.

You notice he seems to be extra playful today.

"Oh, yeah, that's right."

"Lucky you. I'm so sick of commuting."

"You don't like driving?"

You shake your head, "I don't know how to drive, and I don't have any intention to."

"I think I've heard that from Joon before." Jungkook chuckles.

"Oh yeah, he told me one time he'll most probably kill himself if he drives. Which– same."

Jungkook bites on his hotteok, chews on it for a while before saying, "That's what I thought when I started to drive a motorcycle."

You almost snap your head to look at him.

"You drive a motorcycle?" You ask, just to be sure you heard him right.

Jungkook nods. "Hm."

"Oh, wow... that must be..." You trail off, looking blankly ahead of you.

Well, now you can't get it out of your head. Jungkook riding a motorcycle with his tattoos out. Jungkook riding a motorcycle with a leather jacket.

Ugh. You told yourself you were gonna forget about the stupid crush! This is so counterproductive. There's nothing special about a man who drives a motorcycle! Not at all.

"Must be...?" Jungkook curiously asks you.

"Nerve-wracking." You say, which you think is a fair answer. He doesn't have to know that you're thinking about a totally different thing.

He nods. "It was for the first time. Mom always gives me an earful whenever I use it." He shakes his head while laughing.

You can't help but ask.

"You're close with your mom?" It only registers to you that the question must be way too privy, but Jungkook doesn't seem to think so as he answers casually right away.

"Yeah. She was really glad when I came home."

You smile. You once thought he's close with his family... turns out you aren't exactly wrong.

"That's sweet."

He just gives you a soft smile. "You?"

"Oh, me? She, uh, died awhile ago. So."

The smile on Jungkook's face falters.

"That... sucks."

"Thanks." And then it makes you laugh. "You know most people say sorry. You're the first one to say it sucks."

"I..." Jungkook seems to track back on what he said. "I mean, I'm sorry, of course. But it must suck, right? I just... love my mom a lot. Can't imagine losing her."

You nod, completely understanding where he's coming from.

All your life, people have always felt sorry for you for losing your mom, your only parent. Of course, you're thankful for the sympathy, but sometimes... you just need someone to be real with it. Someone to say it sucks – because losing a parent is hard. Losing a mother suck.

"You're not so bad, Jungkook." you comment after a while, and as you take a quick look at Jungkook, you see him in another light. The same light you see a person in when you figure you want to befriend them and be in their life.

"What do you mean by that?" Jungkook asks with an arched brow.

You shake your head, smile not going away.

"Nothing!"

Jungkook annoyed you some more about it and you had to laugh at his curiosity because it was funny the way he insisted about something really inconsequential. Even when you went to another stall to buy some drinks, he still tried to bring up the same thing, but you're more stubborn than him so of course his efforts did not bear any fruit.

After a while, you sit on some bench while you eat tornado fries.

"I don't like this." You say, looking at your stick and frowning. Turning to Jungkook, you extend your tornado fries to him. "Try this one."

He takes a bite from your own stick. Surprisingly, he seems to like it.

"You wanna exchange?" He offers his cheesy tornado fries in exchange with your sour barbecue-flavored one. You nod, taking it from him. Jungkook chuckles at you. "I told you to get that one."

"I was feeling experimental." You tell him simply.

When you were in front of the stall, you told him how you didn't like sour barbecue at all but still wanted to give it a try. Obviously, that did not go well. Good thing Jungkook bought the cheesy flavor, though.

From your peripheral vision, you see a group of what seems to be a group of teenage girls sitting on the bench across from you. Judging from the very familiar uniform, they're in high school. They've been there for a while now and you notice they've been stealing glances at your direction.

You glance at Jungkook and snort.

"Looks like someone here has some admirers from Seoul High School." You tease Jungkook. He does not seem to notice the girls at all, looking at you with confusion first before turning his head to look across.

In a second, Jungkook turns uncomfortable in his seat.

"That's Seoul High School?"

You laugh at the obvious way he ignores them looking at him. Still, you nod your head at his question, "Yup. Went there."

You subtly look at the girls' direction again, catching them do the same and you can just see Jungkook's ears getting red by the second, visibly embarrassed at the unwanted attention.

"That's just across my high school." He casually says, trying so hard not to mind the girls.

"No way!" You gasp. "Yongsan International?"

He nods.

"The cheerleading teams on both schools used to have, like, this big beef before, you know that?" You tell him, ready to lay out the huge gossip that happened in your batch. And then you remember, "Oh. You've probably graduated when I entered senior year in high school."

Jungkook gives you a look. "Rude. I'm not that old."

The sass comes unexpectedly which makes you laugh out loud you almost choke on the fries.

You were just about to tease him some more when somebody approaches you both.

"U-uhm..."

When you both look at the girl, she's one from the group who was shamelessly looking towards your direction, which is obviously aimed at a specific someone by your side, Jungkook.

"Hi!" You greet cheerfully.

The girl blushes and then turns to Jungkook.

"O-oppa..." She utters, hesitant when she pulls something out of her skirt pocket. It's a small, crocheted sunflower.

You coo at the sight, looking at Jungkook in amusement. The man beside you just grow more uncomfortable in his seat. He looks so constipated, god bless him.

"My friend told me to give this to the eonni beside you."

Your smile is quickly wiped off your face the moment her words sink in, confusion slowly coming to paint your expression. You look at the girl but before you can say anything, she's already walking away as soon as Jungkook takes the crocheted flower from her. You watch as she and her friends ran, their figures slowly disappearing from your line of sight.

"Looks like you got admirers from Seoul High School." Jungkook quips beside you. "For the eonni beside me." He teases, extending the cute little flower to you.

Hesitantly, you take the flower from his hands.

"You know, it suits you." Jungkook says when you don't say anything, still stunned from the literal turn of events.

You look up, baffled. "Huh?"

"A sunflower. It suits you... you're like it." He smiles, soft and gentle. There's a look of fondness in his eyes that you couldn't have mistaken for anything else. "I'm glad they gave that to you."

You open your mouth to speak, but there's nothing at the tip of your tongue.

Shying away from his gaze, you mumble a low, "Thank you."

You don't think you hear his next word right.

"Cute."

You have a hobby of collecting hobbies instead of focusing on one thing to be good at, jumping from one activity to another, even if it means abandoning your previous thing. Hobbies for most people means time lent to be better with it every day, but in your defense, you don't necessarily think you have to be good at something.

You've tried drawing. You've tried dancing. You've tried the guitar and you've tried the ukelele and you've tried crocheting and you've tried to study astrology. You've built three huge boxes of storage containing the needed materials for each of them, but they end up collecting dust.

Why can't a hobby just stay as a hobby, anyway? Why can't you just feel goofy one day to suddenly start drawing and give up the next day the moment you realize shading is hard? Why can't you just buy dress patterns and only sew the skirt part because tops are complicated to sew? Why can't you just learn four guitar chords because it's enough to play at least five songs using them?

None of it matters, you think. People will pressure you to push and push until you can possibly capitalize on something you're good at, but it just isn't the case for you.

You'll collect all the hobbies in the world until your head is full of random things and you just burst with it.

And true to your words, you find yourself wandering about in the baking aisle of your local grocery store at the late evening hours.

Yep. It's 2028 and your hobby pick for the year is baking.

So, what if you're a disaster in the kitchen? Cooking and baking are two different worlds! At least that's what Google tried to tell you a while ago when you were cleaning your bathroom earlier this morning, suddenly craving for some matcha cookies after you were done.

It sounded about right in your head that you decided to pick up ingredients for it, deciding it will be your dinner. At the back of your head, you think you should've just gone to the hundred cafes surrounding your apartment complex like, you know, any regular person would if they're craving something. But you figured that if you know how to bake, you could get matcha cookies anytime you want.

What can you say? You like to live life on edge. (You'll probably burn yourself in the oven later, but that will just be another lesson that life is soon to give you. You're just taking it in advance.)

But living on edge doesn't mean getting your card declined when you turn it to the cashier to supposedly pay for your grocery.

"I'm so sorry, uhm, can I have a few seconds, please?" You tell the cashier, giving her an awkward smile as you grab your wallet from your tote bag again, taking your card from her. You take another one of your debit cards this time and offer it to her, subtly looking around in hopes that no one is watching.

"Oh, we don't accept debit cards issued by this bank, ma'am." She says, and you're just about ready to dig yourself a hole from this complete, utter embarrassment.

"Okay..." you trail off nervously, glancing at the computer to look at your total. "I'll just pay in cash."

You do not, in fact, have enough cash.

You can tell the cashier is getting impatient from the way she shifts her weight from one side to another, and you keep yourself from making eye contact with her, fumbling with your wallet.

Three hundred and sixty-five days in a year and your card chose to decline on this very particular day. Why don't they accept your debit card? And why don't you have enough cash with you? Are you really this broke?

This is going to be a disaster. You can't afford to go to prison for this. Can you even go to prison for not paying grocery? Okay, maybe jail time for like 12 hours? But you have work tomorrow!

"Excuse me, miss,"

Somebody says but you refused to look at whoever it was, still counting the bills in your wallet that do not even accumulate to half the amount of your total.

"You can charge her bill here."

At that, your head quickly snap to the owner of the voice only to reveal himself as no other than Jeon Jungkook.

You swear you almost sigh in relief at the sight of him and have the sudden urge to hug him big time.

Jungkook looks at you and gives you a smile.

"Hi."

"Jungkook," you breathe. "Thank god you're here."

The cashier looks at you both weirdly but nonetheless swipes the card Jungkook gave her., instructing him to type his code on the key pad. There's nobody in line for the cashier you went to other than you both because it is too late an hour to be getting groceries, so Jungkook is able to butt in seamlessly and get his cart checked out as well.

"You're very much welcome." He says warmly.

Jungkook's dressed just as casually as you; a combination of simple white t-shirt and shorts and a pair of sliders. His grocery contains a lot different than yours, showing all sorts of food ingredients. You wait for his stuff to get bagged until you both head out of the store.

His car was just parked nearby, so you follow him towards its direction to apologize.

"I'm so, so sorry for earlier. I'll pay you later when we get home, of course." You say, just now registering how embarrassing it is for him to catch you in that situation. You're no stranger to getting your card declined... but really, now?

You decide to add awkwardly, "Or... do you have Kakao Pay?"

Jungkook chuckles while he opens his trunk, picking up his bags of groceries to place them in there. He shakes his head, keeping his hand outstretched to upwards to hold the hood of his car.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

You're about to speak in protest when he gestures at the bag in your hands, as if asking you to place it in the trunk as well. You shake your head repeatedly.

"No, it's okay, I'm just gonna take a cab home." You say, pointing to your back where the street is, politely refusing his obvious offer to drive you home.

He's done too much in the span of ten minutes you've seen each other tonight. He's paid for your groceries for heaven's sake, and he still has the intention to drive you again to your destination? Not adding the fact that he also just drove you to work yesterday to keep you from being late. It's like he's just doing you heaps of favors and so far, you've done nothing in return.

"__, please, I'm offering." Jungkook insists. As usual. "I really don't mind."

Shoulders deflating, you let out a sigh.

"It's just that..." You start, nibbling on your bottom lip.

"What?"

"You've just been doing me a lot of favors lately." You say, looking away from his gaze.

Jungkook calls your name gently. You train your gaze at him. He steps closer to you and gives your shoulder a soft tap. "Hey, I'm not counting."

The words in itself aren't all that special, but the way he said it and the way he looked at you while he did may have just did a little damage to your heart because why did it seem so genuine?

Still, you shy away.

"It's just really embarrassing." You say, out of argument now.

Jungkook lets out a sound of amusement and takes the bag from your hands. He didn't even give you the chance to protest before he managed to put it successfully in the trunk of his car, together with his own groceries.

"Why don't you pay me back by helping me make dinner tonight?" Jungkook muses.

You give him a weird look.

"You really want me in a kitchen? Have you not listened to my horror stories this whole time, Jungkook?"

He laughs as he leads you both inside his car. You follow quietly behind but this time, you don't mistake the passenger seat from the driver's seat and instantly wear your seatbelt as soon as you're sat.

"I dunno, I'm just offering. I thought it'll be fun." He shrugs, turning on the ignition of the car and starting to drive back to the apartment building.

"Okay, I can at least chop some onions and garlic..." You trail off. And then you remember as an afterthought, "Oh, I'm actually baking tonight as well."

Jungkook takes a quick surprise glance at you. "You never told me you know how."

You snort. "I don't know how, trust me. I'm just starting right now."

"Is that why you went out grocery shopping tonight?" He arches a brow.

"Yep. Totally a spontaneous thing. I wanted, like, this very specific matcha cookie..."

Jungkook laughs. "Should I help you with the baking as well? I might learn from you."

"Really? You want to help?" You ask him delightfully.

He nods, making your grin wider.

"Sounds fun."

You both agreed to cook and bake at his place, partly because you personally are not ready for him to see your own flat. When you get inside his unit, Jungkook cutely bragged about his table set that just arrived earlier this morning according to him.

Personally, you've barely cooked at your own place let alone somebody else's. The one time you were in someone else's kitchen was Jimin's but even then, it was just to microwave some pizza and other take-out food.

It should feel weird to be prepping ingredients with someone, to move around the kitchen with the goal to make yourself a homecooked meal – especially with somebody like Jungkook – but truthfully, it felt almost... natural. Probably because you're conversing casually while you're doing things so there isn't any awkward silence.

You're making tangsuyuk, according to him, and he's obviously taking the lead – expertly prepping the meat while you go chop some spices needed for the dish.

"Is this okay?" You ask, showing him your work. You hope he likes it because you're kind of under a weird pressure to be in here, helping him. Also, you're not sure if you minced the garlic right.

But Jungkook just gives you a hearty smile.

"Good girl."

And goes back to what he's doing as if he just said nothing.

Which—okay, he seemed to have unconsciously said it that now you're gaslighting yourself whether you heard him right or not. Did he really say what you think he just said? What the fucking fuck.

Thankfully, Jungkook's too busy to notice that you become a bit frozen in your position for a good ten seconds. If he truly didn't mean to say that, he needs to get those words out of his vocabulary before he sends you in a sudden cardiac arrest. It'd be the most mysterious death of humanity.

"Do you need the carrots?" You ask, raising the vegetable in your hand.

Jungkook nods and you start to peel it. He watches by your side when you begin slicing the carrot.

"Cut them into Julienne slices."

"Huh?" You look back at him. "Not the cooking jargon, Kook." You deadpan, the nickname seamlessly coming out of your mouth.

He apologizes and tells you exactly what he meant. You furrow your brows in concentration to achieve what he wants, but Jungkook just laughs beside you.

"Okay, let me just—"

He's behind you a second after that, towering over your form and circling his arms around you. Your breath hitches as Jungkook places his hand on top of yours – the one that holds the knife – and begins to guide you through slicing the carrot.

You can feel his breathing from the proximity of your position, and even though there's still distance between the both of you, it's only hairsbreadth away and frankly, the ridges of the front of his body are so prominent against your back.

Jungkook does not seem to face the same internal panic as you though, because as soon as he deems that you are staring to get it, he steps back and let you do the thing on your own.

He leans back on the countertop, crossing his arms while looking at you.

"You're not so bad at this like you claimed." He comments.

You feel your cheeks heating up, so you focus your full attention on the carrot, your hands seemingly having developed a mind of their own throughout the time. Well, at least it's doing the right job. You can only hope you don't slice through your fingers... imagine cutting them right into this very moment.

"This is a trauma response from watching too much Gordon Ramsay."

Jungkook chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

"We're just gonna wait for another thirty minutes for the meat and the mushroom. Should we start baking? What do we do first?" He says, washing his hands first before walking towards your direction.

You take your phone out from your pocket, looking at him a bit apologetically as you say "sorry" for pulling up Google. For the record, you haven't memorized shit and this is your first time baking.

Jungkook shakes his head, telling you there's no need for apologies because he "can't bake for shit" himself. That makes you feel relieved. You thought he's just good at a lot of things.

You don't encounter any trouble while mixing the dry ingredients, but when it comes to the wet ones, you think you've done something wrong. Jungkook tells you to try it. When you dip your finger into the mixture and taste it, you automatically scrunch your face.

"What, why?" Jungkook asks curiously.

"I don't think this is quite right..." You say, looking down at the mixture sadly.

"Mayve we can add more vanilla...?" He takes the bottle with him, ready to pour some into the bowl.

You pout. "But it says one teaspoon and we already put one teaspoon."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know... give up?"

Jungkook chuckles as he says your name.

You sigh. "Okay, maybe we'll try some that."

You do as you say, and as you taste it again, you're delighted to notice the elevated flavor. Mindlessly dipping your finger again into the bowl, you offer it to Jungkook to try.

The very act just sinks into your head when he leans down to suck it off your finger.

It happened quick, not at all sensual and slow like the movies make it out to be, but you feel your heart rate picking up at the feel after-effect of Jungkook's hot tongue touching your skin. But as you look at him, his eyebrows are furrowed, assessing the taste, not at all in a trance by what just happened.

"Oh, definitely better." He comments, as if he didn't just... suck your finger?

... Which you offered.

That he took willingly.

You turn away from him and pretend to busy yourself with the electric mixer, fumbling with the paddle.

"Are you cooking the tangsuyuk yet?" You ask, changing the subject. Jungkook is completely unaware of the current chaos in your head, walking towards the refrigerator to take out the pork he marinated earlier and the bowl of mushrooms.

"Just tell me if you need help." He tells you, touching the small of your back as he passes by you to get to the stove.

You feel your cheeks heating at the touch, moving aside to let him start frying the meat with the batter he's busied himself with awhile ago.

"Shit!" You say, surprised at the sudden whir of the machine. Jungkook quickly looks at you. You laugh and give him a thumbs up. "I'm fine here!"

You both work together on your own thing, and when you let the dough to rest, Jungkook, at the same time, finishes frying the meat of the tangsuyuk. You don't want to feel useless while you don't have anything to work on, so you peer over what Jungkook is doing and ask him if you there's anything he needs.

"Do you want to make the sauce?" Jungkook asks you. You scrunch your nose and hesitantly nod. He seems to notice your uncertainty and chuckles. "I'll teach you."

"Okay, but don't blame me if it tastes like shit later, okay?" You warn but he just shrugs and laugh, telling you that he'll talk you through the process and there's no need to be nervous. You can just experiment with it a little, he says.

You've watched a lot of Hell's Kitchen episodes that you have this silly, unrealistic expectation on what goes on in kitchens, but thankfully, Jungkook isn't like Gordon Ramsay at all and is so unbelievably gentle in teaching you even when you almost spilled soy sauce on the countertop and put too much vinegar than needed. He shrugs your worries off by fixing the thing, thankful that when he offers you the ladle to taste the sauce from it, it's more than decent.

While Jungkook prepares the tangsuyuk for your dinner, you take the time to form your cookie dough into small circles, leaving it in the oven to bake while you follow Jungkook into the living room and start eating the food that you cooked – or he cooked.

Jungkook teases you that you lied about not being good at cooking, but you have to remind him you didn't do shit and only the bare minimum. He looks like he's not convinced.

By the time that you're finished with your dinner, the oven's timer went off. Jungkook insists that he wash the dishes even though you feel like you should be the one doing it, but he tells you to check your cookies in the oven and so you did.

You're not expecting anything, but it will feel really good if it tastes at least okay.

Crossed fingers, your mind says as you take out the sheet pan.

First impression: it looks okay to the eye. Like real cookies.

But soon, your parade is rained on when you try to bite into the cookie.

It looks like real cookie, all right, but apparently doesn't taste like one.

Your face contorts into a frown as soon as you bite down into it a second time.

Okay, that's it. Put them in the tupperware as soon as possible, you thought. So, you do just that, placing all of the pieces into the plastic box and securing them away.

From where you were, you can hear Jungkook shutting the water off on the sink, his footsteps coming near you. Once he gets close, he peers down at what you're doing. Intrigued, he asks for one.

"No." you shake your head. The cookies are to be gatekept not because it's too good but because it should not be consumed at all. Jesus. You just ate Jungkook's tangsuyuk and it tasted exactly like the ones you've eaten from restaurants; it'd be such an embarrassing contrast to your own work.

"Don't be stingy," Jungkook playfully says, already making a move to reach for the cookies in your hands.

You hide the tupperware behind your back and stop him with your other free hand.

"Don't come closer. These cookies are not for consumption. Go away."

But he just arches a brow, walking a few steps forward.

"Jungkook!" You whine. "They don't taste good, and I'm embarrassed by them."

"Just one bite," Jungkook chuckles at you, not understanding your mortification. "Come on, __."

But you're stubborn and you won't let him have any of it even if he tries hard.

Jungkook is just as determined though, as he threatens to get closer and closer to you.

You squeaked out his name when he takes a hold of the tupperware but thankfully, you're quick on your reflex and able to take it back.

The whole thing prompts you to burst into laughter as you run around the island of his kitchen, giggling at the silliness of it all.

Your efforts to get away from him eventually go to waste as he managed to get ahold of your waist with his one arm, the other not missing the beat to steal the cookies from you.

He's firm over his hold, lifting you up while laughing against your head as you try to wriggle away.

"Let me have one bite, __," He says, and with his one arm, sits you on the countertop, not letting you go just yet even when you're fully sat.

You try to snatch the plastic from him but he's much quicker this time. When he opens it, you have no choice but to cover your face in embarrassment.

"I told you it's bad." You say, pouting at him, noting the expression on his face as he chews on the cookies that tells you it definitely does not taste good.

"You're a first timer." Jungkook just says, putting down the tupperware.

"Don't try to make me feel better." You frown even more.

"I'm not! I'm just pointing out that this is the first time you tried so of course it's not gonna be perfect right away?" He offers, some sort of comfort, maybe?

But your shoulders deflate because he's right.

Still.

Jungkook must have noticed your mood and tries to cheer you up one more time.

"Come on, you still made a really good tangsuyuk."

That makes you chuckle, unconsciously kicking his knee slightly making him let out an ingenuine, "Ow!"

You don't notice one of the straps of your spaghetti top falling off until Jungkook fixes it for you in the middle of your shared laughter.

"Thanks." You smile at him, mindlessly touching the strap, keeping it in place.

Jungkook hums as he helps you jump out of the kitchen counter.

The night ended with him walking you to your unit again, a rather silly thing he keeps on insisting to do. It's hard to put a name on it, but there's a certain feeling in your chest when you went out of Jungkook's apartment.

A feeling that lingers its way through when you receive a text from him after you come out of the shower that night.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:05pm]: good night chef

You fight off the smile that forces its way into your lips as you type out a reply.

You [11:06pm]: good night :)))))

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:06pm]: i thought u already slept

You [11:07pm]: at 11oclock??? what do u think am i a grandma

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: fair Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: but i had fun earlier. we should do it again sometime

You lie on your back, can't help yourself from letting a small giggle.

You [11:09pm]: jungkook-a You [11:09pm]: just tell me u wanna be with me??

You meant that as a joke, obviously. Just like how he joked about you one time over lunch about wanting to see him every day when you brought up the topic of not seeing him come out of his apartment. You did not mean anything by it other than friendly banter.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:10pm]: 🤔 Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:08pm]: that can be arranged. you can be my personal sous chef and I'll build us a restaurant

You [11:11pm]: sweet

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:11pm]: you havent seen all, baby

Your lips part.

Okay...

Your relationship is absolutely platonic at best. But you can't help but think that he gets a little flirty at times... like the few moments in his kitchen earlier. Is it bad that you're thinking way too much about that specific memory of him licking your finger without thought? Of his strong arm effortlessly carrying you against his rigid body and putting you on the countertop, almost manhandling you? Is it bad you can't get the memory of him fixing your top out of your head?

His use of nickname ticks a little light at the back of your head, and you decide to poke the nest a little.

You [11:12pm]: really? what r u wearing right now

Just a little jokey-joke between friends and nothing more.

You don't even expect a reply to that, but your phone dings a second after, and when you open your message thread again, your jaw parts wider this time.

It's a picture of Jungkook lying his bed, his face cut off from the frame. But you know it's him from the arm that peeks out, his tattoos a familiar sight by now. The photo is taken at a low angle, just enough for you to see the sleeveless shirt he's sporting and the strings of his grey shorts.

You [11:14pm]: i meant that as a joke

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:14pm]: 🥴

You do not know what he meant by that. You look for a picture to reply with, and the HAHA reaction is expected the moment you pressed send.

You [11:15pm]: stripper patrick says good night

Laughing silently at the meme you sent him which was Patrick from Spongebob wearing a pair of black fishnet tights and boots, you wait as three dots appear on Jungkook's line.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [11:15pm]: you're a minx

You chuckle, reacting to his message with an emoji and turn off your phone, almost throwing it on your nightstand and scrambling to bury your face in your pillow to let out a sound of a weird sob, but you're smiling your face off and your cheeks feel way too hot.

The truth of the matter is that you ended the conversation because you're afraid of where it's going.

Turning around, you lay on your back and stare at your ceiling, calming the beat of your heart and forcing your eyes to shut close.

But the picture Jungkook sent you keeps on popping up in your head, almost like those ads from shady websites on the internet, and when you think about it, it triggers a slur of memories that play like a picture in your head: his lips wrapped around your finger... his strong arm... his subtle touch on the small of your back...

"Ugh," you groan, slapping your hands over your face.

You furrow your brows to appear serious, thinking that it'll make you think of something serious as well, wrapping a blanket over your body and sighing when the technique doesn't work.

Okay, think of dogs... and puppies...but that's apparently a wrong move because now you're thinking of Jungkook with his dog.

You're obviously awful at this.

You turn on your bed once again, muffling a sound in your pillow.

But then as minutes passed, your restlessness continues to prevail and you're about to cry with the unknown frustration that sits at the back of your head.

Laying in silence for a while, your hand finds itself roaming over your body, your thumb catching your nipple through your thin top. You pinch the nub, experimental, until it turns into a pebbled rock in your touch.

You bite your bottom lip as your other hand trails down over your panties, running it around the waistband, down until you reach down, down, down to your core.

Your lips part when you feel its heat, two of your fingers starting to stroke where your nether lips were. You sigh at the sensation, squeezing at your boob and turning your head to the side, thinking about how good it feels.

Slowly, you reach down under your parties to part your lips, moaning at the wetness that welcomes you below.

You start to stroke gently with your middle finger, drawing figure eights over your core and making sure to put friction on your clit. The ministration produces more wetness in your cunt, and you spread it over for easier access inside as you start to poke into your hole.

"Oh my god," you mewled, breathing heavily against your pillow, pumping a finger into you. It's a little tight, and you remember you haven't touched yourself like this for over a few weeks now.

But god, how could you forget the feeling of it? The feeling of something going in and out of your cunt, gliding so smoothly because of the abundance of wetness all over.

"Fuck." you sigh out, lips parted, eyes closed to feel more of the sensation.

Your other hand reaches under your top to fondle with your boob, helping you stimulate yourself into that familiar feeling of great ecstasy that comes with your pussy getting touched.

It's starting to feel hot, and you can feel the beads of sweat starting to form on the side of your head even though the AC and your fan are both on. There's a zap that starts from your spine that comes with a sort of electricity coming from within, transferring that tick into your belly which prompts you to pump into your hole faster.

The sheets are a mess at this point, with your feet kicking into them as your movement picks up pace.

"Oh god," you cry out silently, muffling your sob in the comfort of your fluffy pillow.

You chase the feeling of completion, closing your eyes once more, trying to figure out how to get there.

And there's one familiar man that pops inside your head.

Jeon Jungkook.

"Oh shit," you hiss, pinching your nipple and going in and out faster.

Jungkook with his lips around your finger. Jungkook pressing his body against your back. Jungkook carrying you against his body. Jungkook's electric touch as he fixes the strap that's fallen over your naked shoulder.

You let out a pathetic moan, trying to shake away the thoughts of him.

You aren't supposed to. It feels wrong. So wrong.

Suddenly, you feel frustrated over still not reaching your climax up to this point.

You let out a heavy breath, pulling out your fingers from your pussy and from under your panties.

You don't get off. You never do – with your fingers, anyway, that is. And that's why you have a trusted toy buried deep at the back of the drawer of your nightstand, kept away for occasional uses. You'd say you need it right now, but you're too flushed and tired to take it out.

And there's also a melancholic feeling in your heart upon realizing that you just thought of Jungkook while touching yourself.

"Shit, shit, shit." You hiss, the cusses mostly dedicated to yourself.

You shake your head as you sit on the edge of your bed, your hair a bird's nest and clothes strewn over your body as per your reflection on the full-body mirror across your bed.

Sighing, you let your head down and massage your temples.

"God, what's wrong with me,"

You feel guilty... because you aren't supposed to think of a friend when you're trying to get off. You told yourself you'd stop finding Jungkook hot or cute or what-the-fuck-ever so that stupid crush can go away finally. But it feels like all your efforts – or lack, thereof – always seem to fall short.

This isn't good. You need to think straight.

A sudden loud ping catches your attention, almost startling you because it's in the middle of the night, after all. When you snap your head to the side, you see your phone with the light out.

You instantly feel a little nervous. What if it's Jungkook? There's an irrational fear in your head that he knows what you just did, but you shake the thought away, scolding yourself for getting way over your head.

Nibbling on your bottom lip, you feel scared to open your phone but then, did you really have a choice?

Slowly trudging to the direction of your phone, you pick it up from the table and turn it on.

August 18: Your cycle forecast Ovulation in 2 days. Your sex drive may just be hitting its peak🌡️ Tap for tips to make most out of it👉

"Oh fuck me." You curse, throwing your phone on the bed, feeling pissed all of the sudden.

Fucking period tracker app... and ovulation.

PART THREE | ...

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

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bitchlessdino · 1 year ago

Text

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight.

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed. “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively.

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer.

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already.

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim.

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out.

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house.

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe.

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.”

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated. Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched.

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people.

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still.

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…”

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top.

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.”

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp.

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted.

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

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tadpolesonalgae · 1 year ago

Text

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 8

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!Reader

A/N: Writing Nesta post-acosf is so confusing so I apologise if she’s a little ooc!

Word Count: 5,552

-Part 7- -🌌🌠- -Part 9-

It’s been while since you last ate with all of them.

Even so, the atmosphere is familiar. Jovial. Pleasant enough you can allow yourself to slip into spectation, vanishing in your mind’s eyes, becoming an observer without presence. Shadows flicker at the corner of your vision, and you’re brought back down to reality.

The restaurant lights are warm and yellowy, a magic barrier constructed at the room’s border to keep the temperature pleasantly mild, inky darkness swirling just beyond the threshold. Candles flicker, almost in time with his shadows. It’s hard to tell when natural darkness ends and his begins. But he doesn’t really like it when people stare at them, so you avert your eyes. Scratch the backs of your hands beneath the table, softened a little by cream.

By what you can only assume was a stroke of bad luck—or good, depending how you want to feel for the rest of the night—everyone had already settled into the dinner by the time you arrived, leaving a single seat open. Yes, you could’ve pulled over a chair, or requested one to be magically summoned, but that would be drawing attention to the issue, which would undoubtedly make the ineffable off-ness of your relationship with him that much more blatant.

So there he is, a steady presence to your left, situated at one end of the table. Elain to your right. How unfortunate. Or lucky, depending on the angle.

Take a sip of your water, unsticking your tongue from the roof of your mouth. Lean slightly over to your sister. “Have I missed anything?” Cocoa flick to you, warm and soft in the mellow light, a little tired. Half-circles beneath her eyes. “Nothing much. I was planning on visiting Lucien again—hopefully within the week.” She answers mildly, a faint smile in her eyes. “There’s also a possibility of Nesta going over to have a look at the libraries in the Day Court.”

“Woah,” you mumble. “Looking for anything in particular, or simply for recreation?”

Elain shrugs, eyes flicking across the table. “Ask her,” she says simply.

Spine stiffens.

With fae hearing, plus the close proximity, there’s a high chance everyone heard that exchange. Refusing to do so will only draw more attention. You shoot Elain a reproachful look for putting you in this situation but she smiles encouragingly.

You find the elegant shape of your eldest sister a little further down the table—across and two over. Opposite Cassian who is beside Elain. Sharp eyes flit to your own a second after you’ve sought her out—she definitely heard. At least you didn’t vocalise any dismay over the forced interaction.

“Day Court?” You inquire, raising your brows in interest. She nods, lips parting in a smile, “quite the trip, isn’t it.” You laugh—trying to remember where the Day Court is in conjunction with Night. Come up short. “Already read through all the books here?” You reply, trying to keep the conversation fluid. Gaze absently flicks over the various plates and trays of food, picking out the things you’d like to try. A waft of something delicious floats down the table—a covered bowl sits between Rhys and Feyre. Soup, most likely. It has your mouth watering from the scent alone. Would be divine with some buttered bread.

“Nowhere near,” she responds, still smiling. “But there’s a particular author we’re after, and I’d like to see if I can find more of his books in those libraries.” You hum, nodding your head in acknowledgement. “Different from The Runaway?” She blinks, then nods, “you’ve read it already?”

“Yeah. Finished it last week,” you answer, peering at the dishes closer to you, wonder what you can pick. It’s mostly meat. Some roast potatoes, poultry next along covered in an orange-red sauce that smells spicy.

“What did you think?” She asks, carefully ladling gravy to the edge of her own plate. It’s your turn to blink, recalling the story to the forefront of your mind. Exhale heavily, leaning back into the chair. “I don’t know, really,” you admit honestly, “there was a lot in it, I suppose. I’m still digesting it, in a way. Do you know what I mean?” She nods, eyes softening at the edges—you’ve said the right thing. “I think there’s a lot in it; a lot happened to him, and I think it did a good job on highlighting how perspective can be manipulated. I also like how the creature was only alluded to in earlier chapters while the first part of the plot was unfolding so you end up overlooking it?”

She gracefully cuts through a potato, dipping it in the gravy before neatly depositing it in her mouth. Elegant and refined. “Yes, I thought that was an interesting way of telling his story. The complications between Yvette and Hans helped with the initial distraction, I think.” Lips twists into a slight frown. “The section—I think around chapter seventeen? Eighteen…?” You pause, picturing how far through the book it was, then shake your head. “Around there, anyway. The section about those lights in the sky?— I had to put the book down for a bit.” You admit, smiling as you recall the passage.

Nesta nods her head. “I couldn’t believe it, either. I think I actually had to stand up and get myself another cup of tea to calm down when he connected the dots.” A grin parts your lips wider, skin warming at the memory. “Anyway,” you say, redirecting the conversation, “a different author.”

She nods in confirmation, “a different author.”

“Romance?” You ask, remembering her appreciation for the genre.

Something passes through the room, hairs slowly raising at the back of your neck. Eyes slide to Elain, but she’s conversing with Cassian, attention shifted away from you. Gaze flicks back to Nesta who has a tight smile on her lips—it’s still odd to see her smiling so openly and frequently.

“No, actually,” she begins slowly, cutlery lowering to her plate. Her fingers remain pressed tight to the metal. “It’s a spell-book,” she says, silvery-blue eyes gleaming like moonlight despite the warm glow about the private space. Brow furrows a little as you peer at her across the table, “a spell-book?” You ask. “What do you need a spell-book for?” Her spine straightens, attention moving to her meal as she slices into some meat, mouth opening to continue.

“The baby warrior’s been having doubts about his wingspan, I’ll bet,” Amren croons from across the table, snatching your attention. Your brow dips further, eyes now shifting to find Cassian further down the table—the other side of Elain. He seems fine, laughing brightly. “Is there a problem with them?” You ask Nesta, remembering how torn up they’d been after the mess with Hybern and the cauldron.

She shakes her head, lips lifting into a grin as she meets Amren’s steel-coloured eyes. “She’s just jealous,” Nesta returns, “Varian not treating you well?” Sharp eyes flash with challenge. “Maybe they should compare notes. I’m sure your mate could learn a thing or two,” she taunts, effectively ending your conversation with Nesta. A part of you wants to learn more—your natural inclination—but Amren’s whisked her away into conversation, Mor stuck between them.

Attention again flits to Elain, but she’s still contained in conversation with Cassian, leaving only the keen pair of eyes on your left to entertain yourself with. Raise the glass to your lips, forcing down a mouthful of the alcohol, ignoring the light pulsing in the forefront of your head. Skin prickles beneath his attention, fingers shifting over your cutlery as you move to take food to your plate.

It seems rude to interrupt Elain’s conversation—you always go to her first. She speaks to people other than you, and probably enjoys doing so. You should leave her to enjoy the night. Take another drink of the clear liquid, shadows flickering in your peripherals as you set your sights on Nesta. Wait for an opening.

“What do you want the spell-book for?” You ask, feigning ignorance to their conversation. As if the question just appeared on your tongue, falling out before you could stop it. Two sets of sharp eyes cut to you, a single set of caramel flicking to steel warily. “A containment spell,” Nesta answers, slicing up some vegetables on her plate. “To bind.”

Amren’s lip curls into a distinctly predatory grin, almost warning. “Needing to spice things up so early in your relationship?” She croons. “I would have given it at least another few months before you two were in need of a bonding activity.” A fourth pair of eyes joins the discussion though he’s still wrapped in his own exchange. The hazel to your left has probably been observing for some time, too.

Nesta offers the petite female a tight smile, equally warning. Mor claps her hands, hastily breaking up the exchange. “Will you pass that down? Cass, be a dear and— no, next to it— the other side—yes! Thank you!” You watch slightly enviously as she ladles soup into a bowl, taking a slice of fluffy bread and slathering butter over its surface. Trace the soup as it’s returned to its place at the far end of the table, between Rhys and Feyre, one seat down from Nesta and Cassian.

And just like that, dialogue ebbs and flows around, leaving you with no way in. You’re quite glad for the reprieve. These dinners generally leave you in need of a weeks sleep to recover, by which point the next one is already scheduled. Exhausting. You don’t know how they manage it. Attention is still weighing on you as you raise your cutlery, poised to begin slicing into the meat upon your plate.

Elain is still preoccupied—to your steadily growing dismay. Nesta and Amren are locked in a verbal sparring match, while Mor chimes in here and there, occasionally attempting to rope Cassian in, too. Just to stir things up. Shadows flicker in the background.

His attention is becoming difficult to ignore. Clear your throat softly, focusing on cutting through the meat, slicing it into bitesized chunks. “Is something the matter, Azriel?” Shift the cutlery in your hands, easing up the pressure on your knuckles from the effort of cutting. He watches silently, his own plate clean and empty.

“Not at all,” he replies quietly, voice unliltling and void of inflection. Your brow twitches toward the centre, neatly spearing a chunk of flesh. Swallow in preparation. “Nothing?” You question, equally softly, biting down on the dead animal. It comes apart easily on your tongue, softened in a skillet somewhere, bathed in oils and rosemary, sprinkled with salts and spices. Force yourself to chew and swallow. “Nothing,” he repeats back, hazel eyes resting on your jaw, flicking to meet your gaze.

Finish your mouthful, move to the next sliver. Spike it on your fork. Half raise it from the plate then stop, lowering it quietly. “What are you watching?” You ask, eyes flicking down to your plate, skipping away from his. “Many things,” he answers vaguely. Shadows flicker at his back, wreathing his wings, tucking behind them. “I’d rather not be part of those things,” you murmur, finally biting down on the tender flesh. Chew enough so it’s digestible, then swallow. Think about nice things, like the books at the house, golden eyes, and dried flowers. “You’re in public,” he replies, tone still without inflection. “That’s an impossible request.”

Three pieces left, and it’ll be done.

“You can look elsewhere instead of staring a hole in my head,” you murmur. “Maybe,” you add hastily, softening the sharp suggestion. These situations always put you a little on edge. So many people.

He’s quiet for a bit, but his attention doesn’t shift, despite his gaze moving to be further down the table. You manage another chunk of meat, teeth dully masticating as you grind the flesh down, focusing on the herbs and spices in place of the ashen, earthy flavour of the animal carcass.

Azriel’s attention weighs into you, skin prickling, hairs raising at the back of your neck as you try to ignore it. It’s probably being exacerbated by your imagination. Raise the fifth and final piece to your mouth, thinking about rotating planets and cocoa, of whiskey and caramel as your teeth bite and chew absently. He’s still observing; you shift in your chair, swallowing the mouthful. Reach for your glass, gulp down the clear liquid.

Nearly choke, the alcohol burning your throat. Nose scrunches before you can help it, covering your mouth with the napkin while you cough as quietly as possible. Elain pats you on the back making you smile as you overcome the initial shock. “Something go down the wrong way?” She asks, lips curving in a grin she’s clearly attempting to suppress in favour of a more sympathetic expression. Puts those attempts to rest when you laugh quietly, nodding to the liquid. “Too eager,” you whisper, refolding the napkin. Elain covers her own mouth, shoulders shaking with muffled mirth; you shoot her a playful glare.

Mor, sitting opposite Elain; beside Nesta, breaks from her conversation with the two, attention flitting to you, as if she had been lying in wait for her chance. “So!” She says, golden hair shining resplendent beneath the glow, like a flame encased in honey. “When shall we go shopping?” Her hands clap together, red lips parting in a friendly smile.

Oh.

You’d blessedly forgotten that promise of hers.

Swallow uneasily. “It’s fine… The polish and lip tint were lovely,” you smile, hoping she’ll leave it be. “Nonsense,” she chirps, collecting a few more roast potatoes onto her plate, Amren gingerly taking a few after her, nose almost wrinkling with suspicion. “You love books, and I apparently need a reason to spend time with you, so a shopping trip is perfect!” You offer her what you hope is a steady smile, one that disguises the strain you’re feeling, “I don’t want to be a bother—it’s fine, really. There are plenty of books in the library, anyway, and I’ve barely made it through the first two levels.”

Brows shoot up to her hairline. “Every book? You’ve been reading all of them?” You blink at her surprise, then hesitantly dip your head. Anxiety bubbles in your stomach, hands gripping one another as tension slices through your shoulders. “Are they— Am I not supposed to?”

“Oh, no! Nothing like that. Read away!” She laughs, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “I hadn’t expected your interests to be so different, is all,” she smiles. “I tried to read a couple from the library when I was younger and nearly bored myself to tears.” You smile faintly, relaxing back into your chair. “I guess they’re not for everyone,” you reply, posture softening against the back of your seat.

Mor laughs, the sound like wind chimes caught on a stray breeze, golden hair glinting in the warm light. You have to look away. It feels wrong to even look at her—to try and place her individual beauties. Peer down at your empty plate, hunger gnawing at your stomach lining. You should have remembered to eat before coming along.

“So what about tomorrow?” She asks, dipping buttered bread into her bowl. Raise your head to look at her, confusion lining your brows. She smiles easily, “for a shopping trip, of course.”

“Not every creature enjoys being put through your endless chatter, Mor,” Amren snipes from her side. The blonde female pouts, throwing a glare to the petite Fae on her right.

Warm toffee eyes flick to cocoa, brightening with an idea, “Elain could come along too!” Spine goes rigid, every ounce of willpower straining to keep from glancing to your left, wondering what he’s thinking. Swallow heavily, stiffening as your older sister is brought into the discussion. Mor smiles eagerly, “what do you say, Elain? Fancy a shopping trip tomorrow?”

Nails slice into your palms, piercing small crescent shapes into your skin—you’ve been trying not to bite them. Press further back into your seat, muscles coiling with anxiety. Not both of them.

You can practically feel the moment steely silver eyes pick up on your reluctance, like she has a sixth sense for picking at scabs. But Elain sighs apologetically, “that would be lovely, but I’m afraid I’ll have to decline this time.” Relief washes over your skin, bathed in a cool breeze. “I told you so,” Amren snickers to the blonde female.

Mor’s brows dip together, “oh, piss off Amren. I know you like picking out clothes to wear for Varian with me.” The cunning female raises her glass to her lips, taking a slow sip. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replies smoothly, Mor’s lips twitching at the obvious denial.

Turn to Elain, taking in the natural glow of her features. “Have plans?” You ask quietly, hand absently resting over your stomach. Involuntarily glance at the soup further up the table, tongue flicking out over your lips. She shakes her head, softly curled silky hair cascading over her slim shoulders. In your peripherals, you can make out how shadows stretch across the table, reaching. “I’ve been dreadfully tired lately,” she admits, equally hushed.

Brow furrows in concern, about to ask further, but Mor’s on you again. “Guess it’ll just be us tomorrow!” She smiles genuinely, excited for the plans. When you glance sidelong at your sister, she’s already settled back into conversation with Cassian, your youngest sister and her mate joining in. You nod in surrender, accepting it’s something that has to happen. It would be overtly rude to decline her invitation now.

“Great! We can squeeze in a lunch, too,” she grins, washing down the soup with a glassful of wine. “Maybe you can direct me to some of the more interesting library books,” she suggests, eyes sparking with excitement. You nod again, fatigue beginning to weigh on your shoulders. It’s nice watching them, but you frequently forget how draining it is to be involved.

Lean back into your chair, pulling your stomach in as you feel pressure grow—you’d die of embarrassment if it started growling. Hastily drink some more in attempts to fill it up. Hungrily eye the plates of food. Maybe the poultry wouldn’t be too bad with the sauce—chicken was hard to come by all those years ago.

A delicious scent catches your attention, shadows skittering away as he silently ladles soup into his bowl. Nobody asks about the shuffling round of plates. Stomach rumbles and you flush, hands clamping over your stomach as humiliation burns along your skin. Mouth almost watering, but you force yourself to wait; appear only mildly interested in the food. An appropriate amount of attention for a dinner.

His hand knocks into the bowl, pushing it aside to make room for another dish, so it’s to his right. Almost subtle enough to appear accidental.

Still, you finally help yourself to the soup, equal parts affection and shame weighing in your gut.

————

The night air is crisp and cool, soothing the warmth of your skin as you follow quietly a way behind the group.

Feyre and Rhys have already made their way home, not liking to spend too long away from Nyx, despite knowing he’s well cared for. There seems to be discussion ahead of taking things further for the night, perhaps more drinking.

After having left the restaurant, Nesta had sought you out. You’d been surprised to say the least—a little on edge—but it had been nothing to worry about. She’d merely extended an invitation for you to join her on their trip to the Day Court. Perhaps to seek out some books you’d been interested in, she’d suggested.

You’d politely declined.

Now you turn to Elain, the darkness bringing out the slight dip below her eyes. “You okay?” You ask, the chatter of the streets soothing background noise. Fading to a constant hum in the back of your mind, falling into the empty recesses. She nods, sighing heavily. “I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” she replies quietly. “And, I’ve…” shakes her head. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” she sighs again. “You always were more prone to sickness than the rest of us,” you reply, nudging her shoulder playfully.

She smiles gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Maybe I’ll come and cough on you so you get ill for once,” she grins.

Nose wrinkles as you smile, “gross.” She laughs at that, then the two of you fall quiet, walking together in companionable silence. Trudging your way back to the River House, keeping fairly close to the main group who are still deciding whether or not to turn in for the evening.

You know you’ll be heading back to the House of Wind for the night.

Curious to see if a response has been written.

————

The House is quiet. Halls empty and silent as you pad down the corridor to your room.

Maybe you should check with Nesta whether she wants you to move out of here—switch to the River House. Anxiety slices at your gut, fatigue weighing your eyelids at the thought. You’re sure she’ll say something if she wants you out. You aren’t keen to initiate conversation with her unless necessary.

When you enter your room, candles are already lit, courtesy of the House. A few clothes lay on the floor, but it’s mostly clear. Almost tidy.

Parchment rests across your desk, and you eagerly hurry over.

Nothing has been added.

Excitement dies away, scratching at the backs of your hands absently.

Wearily take a seat, playing with the pen between your fingers, chewing on your lower lip. Debating the merits of bothering him when he’s taken no interest in your last comment.

Toss the thoughts out your window, throwing all caution to the wind.

Long day?

Bite down on your tongue, pulling at the top most layer of skin until you bleed. Wait for the paper to disappear. Seconds tick by, counting as they drain away. Steadily turning into minutes. Lean your cheek on the table, slumping forward as boredom creeps in, the pendant clunking as it hits the wooden surface of the table.

Do you remember your twenty-first birthday?

You aren’t particularly sure where the question comes from. Maybe the still-boxed jigsaw puzzle sitting atop a dusty stack of books has something to do with it.

Paper vanishes, and you perk up, straightening in your chair, fingers flexing. Excitement stirring in your chest. Absently reach for a pot of cream, unscrewing the lid as you trace the desiccated skin of your knuckles. Slowly soothe it in, rub the dips between your fingers, pretending your hands are someone else’s.

Parchment reappears, having you eagerly lean forward.

No.

You scowl at the curt response, twiddling the pen in your hands.

Sour and miserable indeed. Were my earlier questions not interesting enough to deign a response?

Letter vanishes, your feet tapping against the floor, fidgeting with the writing instrument. Turn to the anthology as you usually end up doing while waiting for his reply. Flip to the page you’d bookmarked, removing the silver embossed fabric. Lips quirk when you spot the title: Explosions: Rapid Division.

Shift the book so it’s in the centre of your desk, reading the introductory passage, instinctively scanning the diagrams with intrigue. Paper reappears atop the pages.

You forget I am a high-ranking individual with a multitude of tasks to attend to. I don’t get to spend my days simply lying around to pester the only person who’ll give me a scrap of attention.

Cheeks heat with embarrassment, yet you find yourself smiling at the familiar sharpness of his tongue. Ease out a deep breath, relaxing into your chair, flicking the pen in your dry fingers before lowering it to the parchment.

I think if you truly felt pestered, you wouldn’t be responding at all. Feeling lonely over there, Eris?

The paper vanishes, and you treat yourself to an image of his brows narrowing, lip curling as ire blazes in caramel eyes. Mouth widens into a smile as your feet tip-tap on the floor-boards, absently dipping your finger tips into the pot of cream again, putting more over the roughness of your skin as you wait patiently.

Parchment reappears, heartbeat picking up with excitement.

And what about yourself? The hell-cat is leaving for quite a while, isn’t she?

Lips part on a sharp exhale, spine straightening as your eyes flick about the room anxiously. How does he know that? Should you tell someone? Brow narrows in concentration, mind scrambling to think up a response that won’t give anything away, without sounding so vague he knows you’re avoiding the question. Swallow heavily, rubbing in the last of the cream, reaching for your pen. Lower it to the desk, and falter. What do you say? Is feigning ignorance too obvious?

The letter vanishes before you’ve had a chance to even put a speck of ink upon it, and it dawns on you that the question was timed. Picture the way his lips part is a slow smile as he sees the blank paper.

Manipulative bastard.

I suppose she’ll be taking the brute with her, too?

Fingers tighten on the pen, teeth grinding. Is this why he warned you about Eris? Because of how quickly he can extract information through carefully assembling pieces? Jaw tenses, but more silence will be confirmation.

How do you know any of that?

Chew on your lower lip as you await his reply, heart pounding. Azriel would be furious. Swallow down the nausea, teeth sliding beneath your nails—toeing the line of biting down, but restraining yourself.

Really, how do you think Court politics works? Of course we keep tabs on one another. I’m sure your shadowsinger has plenty of spies littered throughout Prythian. Possibly further, too.

Blood ices, peering down at your necklace and the map contained within. Imagining how wide his net must be to thread throughout it all. How much work it must take to keep everything running. Ruthless discipline. How tiring it must be. The weight, the pressure to keep it all maintained.

Head beginnings swimming at the thought of it. Would you even be able to keep up with him?

Why are you telling me this?

The pen scratches over the parchment, struggling to keep lines clean through the slight tremor in your hands. You can’t even begin to comprehend how much work must regularly go into sustaining such a network.

It’s a little embarrassing that you don’t already know. What are they teaching you over there? How to be an emotional burden?

The words hit sharp in your chest, hooks latching into the soft, vascular muscle of your heart. Poised to shred in an instant. Awaiting for the split second of weakness to rip. Rupture the organ in a clean tear.

Fear spikes.

I understand why your brother wants nothing to do with you if that’s how you speak with people.

The words are stamped into the page before you have time to reason it out. Blood rushes round your ears, wincing as your fingertips burn with the faint embers of power that have begun sparking up every now and again. Preemptively reach for the hand cream, preparing to soothe the itch once it fully manifests.

He’ll read into that comment. You know he will. Read between the lines to figure out just how much that one stung.

Parchment reappears and you warily lean forward, eyes skimming the clean script.

I’d been wondering where you kept your lovely claws, cygnet.

I didn’t mean to write that.

Wipe hands on your skirts, anxiety kicking up in the pit of your stomach. Roiling with worry.

You knew perfectly well what you were doing. You simply despise the way you are.

Has anyone else commented on how similar you are to Nesta Archeron?

Heart sinks to your stomach, biting on your tongue until you taste copper. Dislike how deep he’s wormed his way already. How did things go from light-hearted sparring matches to full scale battle in so few conversations?

And what about you? You write, mimicking his earlier diversion. Do your brothers share your affinity for poisoned words?

The parchment vanishes for a while this time, though you don’t even try to distract yourself with the anthology. Leg taps anxiously, trying to rub cream into your hands, hoping if it’s done tonight, they won’t ache tomorrow. The last thing you need right now is another flare up. Try to focus on the scent—light and sweet. Like gardenias and sugar.

Your attempts to redirect are as graceful as the first steps of a freshly birthed hound. Perhaps once you settle into your skin you’ll become more skilled at deflecting uncomfortable topics.

Skin prickles, hairs standing on end as you again raise the pen in hand. Considering routes to return to earlier discussions that weren’t so intrusive.

Alternatively, you could choose lighter conversation starters. For example, why did you send the anthology?

Certainly not the most succinct switch in direction, but better than continuing down that path. Ease a breath into your lungs once the paper vanishes, reminding yourself you don’t have to reply to him. At any point, you’re free to leave. Lean back in your chair, stretching out your limbs, muscles spasming and aching in your shoulders, fingers trembling as bones click in your spine. Deflate into the seat, muscles relaxing all at once.

You haven’t noticed anything yet?

Brows furrow, peering at the volume. Close it and flip it over—nothing on the back. Reopen it to the contents page, peering at the compilation of titles, authors, and page numbers. Scan the introductory section again, searching for anything to give you a hint at what he’s talking about.

(Writing about.)

I’m mildly concerned to ask? You write, keeping the conversation light, steering away from the earlier topics. Hoping he’ll keep away from family-related chatter.

Then read away.

Heart spikes at the ominous reply. What the hell is he talking about?

Eris, are you serious?

Paper vanishes, reappearing moments later.

Nothing but.

Roll your eyes at the response, but again set pen to paper.

If you were a human, you’d be riddled in various worry-marks by now. Does that thought upset you?

Lips quirk faintly, hoping it irritates him sufficiently.

Is this how you cope with discomfort? Pretending it away? Making light of it?

Damn him.

Instead of…?

Instead of hiding like a coward. Your blithe little act is growing dreadfully monotonous.

Straighten in your chair, shifting uncomfortably. Are you boring? Is that it? Is that the whole reason he…

Do fae have milestone dates like humans do? You said you don’t remember your twenty-first.

Paper disappears, and you become aware of the tension coiling in your shoulders. Maybe you should turn in for the night. Writing to him is supposed to be fun, not make you feel so…

Squirm uncomfortably, slouching in the seat. Crick your neck, releasing built up pressure, stretching your toes. Move to blow out the candles, but the letter reappears.

You really are turning out to be quite dull.

Brows scrunch with hurt, then even out. It’s ridiculous to be upset over behaviour he’s made no effort to hide. You shouldn’t be surprised he’s not changing, yet you had hoped…

Swallow, then sigh, the pen feeling heavy in your hand.

And you’re unnecessarily barbed.

(Who taught you to be that way, Eris?)

(Am I going to grow up to be like you?)

Paper vanishes, but you find yourself awaiting a reply. Marinating in your room while your lids grow heavier, shoulders slumping with fatigue, the base of your spine beginning to ache.

Stand from your desk, eyes flicking unwillingly to your nightstand, a small, royal blue gift box sat neatly atop it. The tule bow as resplendent as ever—shifting between vivid purples, reds, and pinks. Azriel’s gift.

(Sometimes, when it gets particularly bad, I like to look at it before I go to sleep. Fantasise about being the female he likes, instead of the one I am.)

(Sometimes, when I want to indulge in misery, I like to imagine dressing up for him. Imagine him telling me how pretty I am, imagine him sliding the golden hooks into pointed ears.)

(Sometimes I imagine.)

(Sometimes I imagine, because it’s the closest to reality I’ll ever get.)

Hear the distinct sound of paper on the table, and you still. End up turning anyway. Move over to your desk, reading the message.

You can do better.

Write again when you’re ready to show your claws.

Slump into the seat, head tipping back, staring up at the ceiling. Arms fall dully to your sides, too tired to feel anything.

Sigh heavily, forcing yourself to stand in favour of pulling away your clothes. Rid yourself of every constraint, pendant clunking on the bedside table.

The same-old, off-white cotton night gown swallows you, falling to your ankles as you settle into the mattress.

And to think, you’d been considering asking what things were like in his court.

How nice it might have been to make a trip of your own.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel angst #azriel acotar #CBMTHY #azriel x reader angst #CBMTHY Chapter 8

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0cta9on · 26 days ago

Text

One Year of 0cta9on

Hello everyone! :]

Today marks exactly a year since I debuted as a writer! In an ideal world, I would’ve had some crazy story planned for today, but my current circumstances didn’t allow for that, so enjoy this semi-sappy yap session instead :>

I started writing during a particularly low point in my life where my mental health was in the gutters and I had an insane amount of free time. I’ve always liked imagining stories in my head, so the next obvious step was to start writing those stories down. Hence, 0cta9on was born :]

Channeling my energy into something creative provided me with a distraction from all the things that weighed on my mind and become a source of joy for me. While I know I’m not the best or most well-known writer in this community, seeing even a single comment on my work fills me with such an unexplainable amount of joy. To know that there’s people out there that enjoy the silly little stories I put out is genuinely insane in the best way possible <3

Since I’m mainly a fluff writer, I wasn’t sure what other writers in this community would think of me. But my worries were almost immediately quelled when I first joined the writer discord and became friends with a bunch of amazingly talented writers. Shout out to @msafterhours, @writerpeach, @octoberautumnbox, @gangplanksorenji, @prael, @kooyabooya, @okaylikeschaewon, @mintwithchoco, @defmaybe, @sinswithpleasure, @midnightdancingsol, @capslocked, @svndaysaweek, @usedpidemo, and of course many, many more for being so kind and welcoming <3

Recap of my past year of writing:

Wrote 8 chapters of Unlikely Duet, my cute little slice-of-life romance series starring best girl, Minji <3 Chapter 8 is the longest piece I’ve written so far at +18k words!

First Snow was the first fluff one shot I made. Rough around the edges, but we all start somewhere.

Beach Day and Good Idea were my first attempts at writing smut and they are… alright, I guess :> Part of me wants to go back and revise them, but I barely have the time and motivation to work on new drafts ;[

Masterpiece is still probably my favorite fluff one shot I’ve written so far, and while it’s not the best written by any means, I still really like how it turned out :]

FFF2+4 and Train Ride to Heaven for me marked the start of when I started becoming more comfortable writing smut. I’m still not that great, but it’s fun and I think that’s all that counts for me :]

Stuck with You was the first commission I ever did! Writing someone else’s idea is always difficult, but I’m glad the buyer liked the final product :]

Stroke of Luck was the first time I ever wrote a threesome. I think it went okay :>

Wrote And We Danced and Sunscreen for a fun prompt challenge hosted in the writer’s discord (You can thank @mintwithchoco and @msafterhours for these <3). The latter ended up turning into a quaint little mini series :]

Lessons was my second ever commission and my first attempt at femdom. While femdom isn’t really my thing, it was a fun challenge writing about something new and I really like the little gimmick I threw in there :]

I wrote Today, like, two days ago at 1am without much revising or editing (Shoutout @defmaybe for reading through it before I released <3). Go read it if you haven’t yet pls n thenk yew :>

Wrote 15 shorts from ideas submitted by you guys! Some of my favorite stories I’ve written have been shorts and they’re always nice when I’m low on ideas :]

While I likely won’t have anything out for a while, I think it’d be fun to pull back the curtain a little bit and hint at what I’ve been working on :]

🐰🦋// She’s just your coworker. Just that. Nothing else.

🐻👖// It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?!

🍁✨// Upcoming New Variety Show: Fan Date! Episode 1, starring [REDACTED]

🍔🧀// Time changes, but summer stays the same

I’ve run out of things to talk about, so this concludes my one year anniversary post :> Despite my unplanned and prolonged hiatus, I want y’all to know that I do NOT plan on retiring anytime soon. I have so many stories I still want to tell, whether you like it or not >:]

Have a good day/night and I love yall <3 Have a Minji :]

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angelic-iam · 1 month ago

Text

Stroke Of Luck Masterlist

Terry Richmond x Black Female Character

Warnings: 18+, smut, bondage, unprotected sex, profanity, angst, adult themes and conversations, hints at infertility, infidelity, death, light violence, abortion and more

Summary: After the tragic loss of her brother Joselynn Taylor struggles to mend together the pieces left from his loss. Needing a shift in energy she decides to move into his ranch house discovering soon it came with an unexpected guest that would inevitably make her whole again

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

#terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond fic #aaron pierre #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond #terry richmond x black!character #aaron pierre fanfic #terry richmond fanfiction #rebel ridge #terry richmond x fem reader

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adelheidsideblog · 10 months ago

Note

How would the main 8 react to receiving head?

This one literally has taken me so long to write 🫣🫣 I kept having to take breaks because I kept becoming self aware so I had to pause and stare at the wall for a moment to feel normal again. You all had better appreciate this 😭

Feliciano

Every sound out of his mouth is a praise of how wonderful you're making him feel

Strokes your face and runs his hands through your hair but doesn't pull normally

He enjoys videoing his partner giving him head, especially videoing the part where he cums

Likes to cum in his partner's mouth and make them show him after before swallowing

Enjoys when his partner licks him clean

Ludwig

Groans occasionally, especially as he cums, but for the most part is quiet and very, very red

When he's dominant I think he would enjoy fucking his partner's mouth like a fleshlight

Always pulls hair, and when he cums he pushes his cock balls deep into his partner's mouth

Likes to tie his partner's hands behind their back when they suck hi off

Very apologetic and sweet after if he feels like he was too rough

Kiku

On the quiet side: breathy sighs that border on groans, and calls out your name when he cums

He'll hold the back of your head but doesn't pull your hair (usually, at least)

Too overwhelmed to make eye contact, so he covers his face with his forearm (if he does make eye contact he risks cumming immediately

Really enjoys facials: he prefers to cum on your face or chest as opposed to down your throat

Extremely sweet and loving afterwards, and probably repaying the favor soon after

Alfred

Moans like a porn star: good luck being discreet (Matthew has overheard on more occasions than either brother wants to think about)

Bucks his hips and pushes his partner's head down if they'll let him: you'll have to tie him up if you want him to hold still, though

When his partners have long hair he likes to wrap it around his hand while they suck him off

Prefers to give facials but usually cums before he has the chance to pull out

Usually when he receives blow jobs they immediately transition into fucking

Arthur

Another blushing mess, and slightly loud (he almost could be described as whiny but hates the term)

He probably enjoys having his partner under his desk sucking him off

Enjoys a little bit of teeth: not enough to hurt but enough to feel

If he's feeling really dominant he'll make his partner kiss it after

Kisses his partner after to taste himself on their mouth

Francis

Usually Francis is on the quieter side so that he can hear his partner better, but since their mouth is otherwise occupied he moans and praises freely

His hands are either still or stroking his partner's face so he gets a clear view of the show

Likes getting blown in public, especially if others can hear, but hates the idea of making his partner get on their knees in a less than hygienic spot (not enough to not do it though)

Either cums down their throat or makes his partner stop so that he can wait and cum during penetrative sex

Rarely does he ever receive head without following it up by going down on his partner or having sex immediately after

Ivan

Heavy breather until he cums, then he groans loudly

Likes to instruct his partner on how to suck him off

He's scared he might hurt his partner, so tends to stay very still aside from the hand on the back of their head.

If his partner has tits he prefers to cum on them, but really isn't picky as long as he cums

Takes pictures of his partner after, and loves if he's made a mess of their face (has a soft spot for messy makeup)

Yao

He's either quiet or dirty talking with no in between

His favorite position to receive head is sitting on the couch with his partner on their knees on the couch beside him and bent over slightly so their ass is in the air: he likes to reach over and jerk them off while they blow him

Enjoys being woken up by his partner blowing him

He thinks facials are gross and prefers to cum down their throat

Blow jobs are his favorite treatment for insomnia

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m00nc4kes · 11 months ago

Text

Call Me?

hobie brown x black! reader

words: 1.4k

rating: gen

summary: You find an old note with a number written on it.

warnings: none :). reader is gender neutral and black (even if its not mentioned)

You held the small piece of paper in your hand as your eyes traced a string of numbers you’d long forgotten about. You had come across the note by a complete stroke of luck, or perhaps misfortune from how your heart had yet to resume beating.

Unpacking boxes in your new apartment had been a long and grueling process that made you determined to not stop and reminisce. Even so, your box of high school memorabilia enticed you, making you grab your boxcutter and glide the blade along the taped edges. Ironically, you had triple-taped the box shut to prevent yourself from getting distracted. Alas, it couldn’t be helped.

You flipped through your old yearbook, taking in faces you hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. You knew that some people in your class never had the chance to have their picture in the book due to missed deadlines or having an inability to sit still and smile at the camera (a vague voice reminded you in the back of your mind).

You continued to take things out of the box like old assignments, flyers, and notebooks. What you hadn’t expected was a piece of paper to slip out of your previously cherished music notebook. When you picked up the note, your heart hit a wall and you swore you would never recover.

You reread the messy ink that was scrawled onto the paper:

Call me? ;)

(XXX) XXX-XXXX

-Hobie

Hobie.

Flashes of a boy with a lopsided grin entered your mind. You don’t know how you could’ve forgotten about the boy who captured your heart by sliding a simple note to you. Years spent together roaming the same crowded halls, sneaking into concerts, and making music together all started with that note. This note.

No, you were sure you never completely forgot about him. Your first love would always linger in the bright part of your subconscious. It was just that— life moved on.

Yet, you held memories of that boy close to your soul as painful as it was to remember them. So in reality, you knew you never forgot about him, you simply avoided thinking about him until it became second nature. Until you couldn’t deny his existence with concrete proof— with the note in your hand.

You would never forget how you two had bonded through a common love and appreciation for music. He was your first in so many areas and was someone you had commonly thanked the stars for.

Hobie. Hobie Brown.

He made you feel alive after your mother’s sudden death and your father’s sudden emotional reservation. You couldn’t possibly remember being a teenager without remembering Hobie.

Nights spent sneaking on the landline and typing in the number you had known by heart to talk to your boyfriend. Oh, how your father despised catching you twirling your finger along the phone cord in the late hours of the night. He would always say that his child didn’t need to be hanging around some punk teen who had no direction in life. Though, there was nothing he could do. You loved Hobie.

So when your dad suddenly dropped the news that you two would be leaving the city to be with family on the opposite side of the country, you lost your mind. But all your screams and cries and pleads didn’t do anything to stop it.

Hobie would stay in the city with hopes of making it big, while you would finish your last year of high school in a random town no one’s ever heard of. So, you made the reckless decision to cut your relationship off.

You were seventeen and doomed to believe that your world was ending and you didn’t want to drag Hobie down with you.

You remembered that last day, how could you ever forget? Watching Hobie’s heartbroken face as your dad drove you two away, never to be heard from again.

It was a lifetime ago. You supposed, that was the end of it. An end to a chapter, never to be opened or read again.

Yet, here you were, nearly 8 years later, with this note. With this number.

Before you could stop yourself, your eyes flicked over to your phone across the room. It was sat on top of a box labeled: bedroom. What were the odds that Hobie kept the same number? He never had a landline and kept his flip phone tucked in his front pocket. What were the odds?

You stared at the paper again then back at your phone. What were the odds? You slowly shifted toward it but stopped yourself. An image of Hobie’s crestfallen expression entered your mind. Guilt threatened to take hold of you but you stopped it with a heavy exhale.

“What am I doing?” you muttered. You were supposed to be unpacking, not going back down memory lane. It was why you had taped up that godforsaken box in the first place.

You slowly reached for the music notebook and slid the note back into its place, then put the entire thing in the box. With a sudden resolve, you put the box into the closet and shut it behind you.

You walked across the room to your stack of boxes and moved your phone to your bed. You decided to start with the “bedroom” box and peeled off the tape. It came off easily and you tossed it aside, just like how you had tossed aside your dreams of making music with Hobie.

You paused. You could feel your brows furrow at the jab you made at yourself.

You hadn’t tossed aside any dream, you thought indignantly as you pulled out the items inside the box with a little more force than necessary. You just made reasonable dreams. Like getting a degree to show teenagers how to pursue their love for music.

You grew up and after all this time, you were sure Hobie did too. Who knew where life took him? You surely didn’t know.

You tried to chew on that but you didn’t like the taste. You set your picture frame down and stared at your phone for a long moment. The air stilled and your heart slowly picked up its pace as a thought struck you.

…one call wouldn’t hurt, right?

Your fingers curled around your phone as you tried to will your heart to stop racing. You would only do it once, you told yourself as you found your legs leading you to your closet. Only one time, you reminded yourself when you found the notebook again. You flipped open your phone as you held the note in your hand and typed the number in.

Your thumb hovered over the call button.

“Just once,” you told yourself.

With a solidified resolve, you pressed the button. Your heart made thunder in your chest as the phone began to ring.

And ring.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as the phone continued to ring. When the phone finally clicked, you were prepared to greet the voicemail on the other side.

Instead, you received a deep, “Hello?”

And by god, your heart completely surrendered itself to whatever being lied above. Your mind went haywire as you tried to remember the language that you had spoken your entire life. All you could do was fumble out a: “Hi.”

You cringed at the random emphasis you put on the two letter word. Perhaps you had said it too loud or said it wrong because it didn’t feel right coming from your nervous tongue.

“Hi,” he said again, mimicking your tone.

This— this had to be Hobie. Was this Hobie? You should just ask— “Is… is this Hobie? Hobie Brown?”

There was a vague hum on the other side. “Who’s askin’?”

A shaky exhale left your nose as you placed the phone between your ear and your shoulder to wipe your sweaty hands. “This is… um. This is (Y/N).” The silence that came after made you spiral.

Should you give him your last name? What if he didn’t remember you? What if this wasn’t Hobie and you were bothering some random man with the same number—

“(Y/N)?” You couldn’t read his tone. “From secondary?”

You suddenly felt emboldened as you remembered an age-old debate. “From high school. Yes, that’s me.”

“High school?” he echoed to himself. Then a loud cackle burst through your speaker. “Oh my days?! (Y/N)? That is you— with your random ways of sayin’ things.”

For once, your heart didn’t betray you and you could finally breathe. You couldn’t stop the smile that split across your face. Life moved on, but you swore you were a teenager again, twirling that cord around your finger.

“You got a lot of nerve calling me random, Hobart.”

The laughter you two shared would echo long into the dark hours of the night.

hi hi hiiiiii

hope you enjoyed ;)) i literally wrote this at work omg

#hobie brown x black!reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #atsv #across the spiderverse #spider punk #writing #spider punk x reader

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deliciousangelfestival · 10 months ago

Text

Let Me Love You | 4 - B. Barnes

Character: college!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: On a mysterious, rainy night, Bucky witnesses a distressing encounter involving his crush.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

The next day, you wake up feeling refreshed after a restful sleep. With no rush to get up early, you decide to treat yourself to a leisurely morning and join your female friend for coffee instead of preparing breakfast for Lloyd.

You're grateful for the separation between the business and law faculties, as it means you won't have to encounter Lloyd in the morning.

Taking advantage of the extra time, you also request a day off from your part-time job. It's been a while since you've had some 'Me Time', and you feel you deserve it. Despite the lingering ache in your heart, you know that time will eventually heal it.

Walking back to your apartment, you spot someone familiar - Bucky. His presence unexpectedly brings a glimmer of light into your otherwise gloomy day.

With a smile, you approach him."Hi Bucky," you greet him warmly. Bucky seems surprised by your sudden appearance but returns the greeting, "Hi... hiii Y/N."

Then you notice that he's holding a leash, and upon closer inspection, you realize it's attached to a cat. The cat seems oddly familiar, and a memory sparks in your mind.

"Isn't this the cat that we saved together?" you ask, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice.

Bucky nods, his expression softening. "Yes. The shelter called me and asked if I wanted to adopt her or if they should place her in foster care."

The white cat edges closer to you and rubs her head against your leg, seeking affection.

Your heart flutters with warmth at the cat's gesture, and you can't resist bending down to stroke her head gently. "Aww, she's so cute. What's her name?"

Bucky hesitates for a moment before replying, "Alpine. You could visit her if you want." His words come out a bit awkwardly, and you detect a subtle hint of nervousness in his voice. It's as if he's trying to mask something beneath his casual tone.

You sense a slight shift in the air, a moment pregnant with unspoken meaning. Bucky seems to bite his tongue, a nervous tic that betrays his uncertainty. Is he inviting you to his place? You can't be sure, but his invitation lingers in the air, hanging between you.

Unsure of how to interpret Bucky's demeanor, you simply respond with a warm smile. "Sure, I'd love to. I used to have a cat."

Bucky's smile brightens at your acceptance, a wave of relief washing over his features. From that moment on, the two of you stroll together, lost in easy conversation, until the sun dips below the horizon. Neither of you notices the watchful eyes observing your every move from a distance.

You returned to your apartment after picking up dinner, following Bucky's recommendation of the Chinese food he'd previously given you. The flavors were delightful, and tonight, you planned to indulge in your favorite dramas while savoring the meal.

As you entered the apartment lobby, your heart sank at seeing someone you'd been avoiding - Lloyd.

He had been waiting for you since morning, expecting the usual routine of you bringing him breakfast. However, he woke up to find himself disappointed.

He check his phone for your messages.

Nothing.

He tried to call you.

Blocked. You block him.

He had even gone to the university, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, only to be further disheartened by your absence. But then, as luck would have it, he spotted you earlier, walking with Bucky. The sight of you laughing and chatting with another man ignited a fire of jealousy within him.

He decided to confront you and waited at your apartment building, though his attempts to gain access were futile due to the strict policy allowing only females to enter. So, he stood there for over an hour, consumed by his thoughts and emotions, waiting for you to return.

Lloyd confronted you, his tone tinged with accusation. "You choose that loser over me?"

You sighed inwardly, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude for the clarity that had come after your breakup with Lloyd. "The moment I found out you kissed her, it was enough for me to leave you. You have broken my trust."

Lloyd appeared taken aback, his surprise evident as he struggled to respond. It seemed he hadn't anticipated the conversation to take this turn.

Continuing, you asserted, "You think I would forgive you? I might, but that doesn't mean I want to get back together. Besides, we're still young."

Inserting a word that Lloyd's father had mentioned last summer, you added, "Perhaps you're happier with someone else."

Lloyd's demeanor shifted, his confidence faltering under the weight of your words. It was clear that convincing you to reconsider would not be as easy as he had hoped.

Fooling around with Nicky was fun for a moment, but he never had a thought to make it serious. Because of you, who always have been there for him.

You stated, "I don't want to be the last person to know that someone cheated on me." Memories flooded back when your mother screamed and threw every piece of furniture to the ground upon discovering your father's infidelity with his coworkers.

Your father apologized to you and left, leaving your mother with deep scars in her heart. Your parents are childhood sweethearts; they have spent almost half of their lives together. That's why history seemed to repeat itself when your mother found out about you and Lloyd.

She urged you to make the relationship work, especially considering Lloyd's status as a star athlete at school with a promising future in football. As the only child, you felt compelled to listen to her. However, you have since decided to chart your own path.

Living alone, working part-time, and earning your own money have shown you that you can thrive independently, without depending on Lloyd. The breakup has made you realize that you may have spoiled Lloyd too much, without receiving the same level of care in return.

You sometimes yearn to be spoiled and surprised, but Lloyd never seemed to reciprocate. His parents' disapproval of you further strained the relationship, especially after they learned of their son's offer to join the NFL. Additionally, Lloyd never respected your mother, despite her high hopes for him.

Now, every step you take seems to reveal more red flags, prompting you to choose a different path to avoid history from repeating itself.

Lloyd feels dejected, unable to believe that you would leave him. His ungratefulness for your kindness and patience becomes apparent, realizing that finding someone like you again will be difficult.

Lloyd still couldn't accept it. "Good. That means I avoided a crazy mother-in-law. Her insanity made our town famous."

You retorted sharply, "Don't mention my mother. This is about us!"

Lloyd fell silent, satisfied with the reaction he provoked.

"Do you want everyone to know that perfect Y/N has a psycho mother?" Lloyd continued, using the sensitive topic to threaten you.

You gasped, never expecting Lloyd to stoop so low.

"Why are you doing this?" you demanded, feeling a mixture of hurt and anger.

Lloyd explained, "Tomorrow there's a gala dinner that's inviting many people who sponsor the university and, most importantly, the football team. You are my plus one."

You scoffed at his words. "So you want me to maintain our image as high school sweethearts, right? What would the sponsors think if they found out one of their athletes is a cheater? Fine, I'll go. I don't want you to blame me if your future goes up in flames."

With a dismissive "Good," Lloyd turned and left you standing there, tears welling up in your eyes.

As you watched his retreating figure, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. His back, which had once been a source of comfort during difficult times, now served as a painful reminder of how much he had changed.

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Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

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creacherkeeper · 2 years ago

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when you didn't even know you needed a second chance

{the good bones, maggie smith / summer doorway with african lilies, phyllis dodd / sputnik sweetheart, haruki murakami / ashe vernon / phoebe wahl / creacherkeeper / braiding sweetgrass, robin wall kimmerer / love poem with apologies for my appearance, ada limón / @korocore / i am offering this poem, jimmy santiago baca}

[ID: ten images, 8 of text and 2 paintings, in a litstack

1: [...] though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.

2: a realistic painting in soft colors of a potted african lily plan sitting outside the open doorway of a home. beyond the door there are more plants in a garden

3: I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.

4: So maybe this time, love doesn't kick down the door-- / doesn't rattle the windows or plant weeds in the flower garden. / Maybe you can't smell the smoke because, / for once, / nothing is burning.

5: There is a little house somewhere, surrounded by green cedar boughs, where we are eating oatcakes with honey, dipping them in our tea three times for good luck. Somewhere I am sitting with you in stillness.

6: Calm, for the most part. Also tired, also worried, also nervous, also scared, also sad, but those things were just … always swimming around inside her somewhere. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were bigger. They’d been quiet the last few days. It seemed another emotion had replaced them, a subtle sort of ache around her chest, a pang of longing that she had long come to recognize. / She really missed Morel.

7: [...] found her barefoot in the garden, planting beans and helping me fill my pail with earthworms that were severed by her shovel. I thought I could nurse them back to health in the worm hospital I constructed beneath the irises. She encouraged me in this, always saying, "There is no hurt that can't be healed by love."

8: I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I'm wrong, it is that I love you, but it's more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through the curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it.

9: a painting of many pastel flowers. the flowers are painted using thick brush strokes to give the petals a raised texture

10: I love you, / I have nothing else to give you, / so it is a pot full of yellow corn / to warm your belly in winter, / it is a scarf for your head, / to wear over your hair, / to tie up around your face. / I love you,

end ID]

#litstack #web weaving #quote collection #your honor romance is not dead #it comes in the form of morel and cat #they mean so much to meeeeee #somft. so so somft #cat losttownship #lost township

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sosa2imagines · 11 months ago

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I know where I belong. Part 8

----------------------------------------------------- Part 9 Part 10 ----------------------------------------------------- Warnings- Fluff for everyone except for Steve. -----------------------------------------------------

"Excuse me you're what?" "I'm retiring." Steve tells all of them in a firm tone.

The only two, who were not surprised about his decision was you and Bucky. Where everyone had some reaction, you and Bucky sat quietly. It was Sam, who noticed you both not reacting. "You both knew, about this?". His gaze was moving back and forth between you and Bucky. You nodded your head and Bucky deeply sighed. "He had decided his retirement way back before. Thanos was the perfect excuse, before someone had change of plans that is. Steve rolled his eyes, at Bucky's comment. Bucky left the room, not in the mood to listen anymore.

As, everyone was leaving the boardroom, Steve stopped you. "I'm finally retiring." "Good for you!" "Isn't that what you wanted all along?" Steve smirks, blocking your path. "Excuse me?" "Come on Y/n, I'm finally retiring." "It is what you wanted Steve! I was supporting, being there for you." "And now what? You stopped caring?" He yells, holding his hips, his broad body blocking your path. "Does Sharon know?" "No! Don't you worry about her. She'll be very happy for me unlike you. I'm going to have my future with her." The moment he said that, you had a genuine laugh, making Steve furrow his brows. "What's so funny?" "You! You really think I'll be happy for you? I may not wish anything bad for you, but don't expect anything good from me either! And good luck with Sharon, I hate to say this, but I do feel bad for her." Steve for a moment dropped his arm his face pale, he didn't expect you to say that. The moment he dropped his arms, it gave you space to leave.

As you left the room, you realized, none of the things Steve said, hurt you or made you feel jealous, infact you didn't cared at all. You literally ran, to find Bucky. As soon as you found him, you literally jumped on him, taking him by surprise. "Happy to see you doll." he smiled carrying you in his strong arms. "I love you Bucky" with that you kissed him. Bucky, didn't hesitate, he reciprocated with equal passion, as if trying to tell you he loves you too in the kiss, your first ever kiss with Bucky. "I love you too doll."

After a while, you both got into bed and he looked expectantly at you. He let out a soft sigh, as he turned to the side. His eyes looked at you, with an expression that seemed to show how satisfied he was. He took your hands and brought them up to his face, his fingers stroking your hands. Everything about you was so fascinating to him and you made him so happy. Little did he know, that everything about him, made you happy too! He could not take his eyes off of you, as you laid next to him. The way your body leaned against him, your fingers stroking his was incredibly alluring.

His breathing began slowing, as he leaned closer to you. He placed his hand beneath your neck, as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder. His breath began to become a bit tense, when he realized how close you were to him. The smell of your hair alone was enough for him to get intoxicated, let alone the feeling of your body pressed against his. His breathing began getting deeper and his fingers ran through your hair as he closed his eyes. With every inch that he moved closer to you, he felt more and more entranced by you. A wave of passion seemed to wash over him, as he continued holding you close to his chest. The sound of his heart pumping was loud, just like yours. He was so completely absorbed in the act, that the two of you seemed to be the only two people that existed in the world. It was a blissful moment. At some point he pulled you even closer so that you were lying on top of him, with your head resting on his chest. The feeling of such intimacy was something Bucky had never felt before.

When Tony got to know that Sharon has no clue about Steve's retirement. He came up with a mischievous plan, and soon got to work on it, with the help of Natasha. "You want to what?" Nat was half laughing, half shocked to hear the plan. "Look either you are with me or not! We don't have much time." "What are you planning to do?" "We can either just tell her or we throw a surprise for her aka Steve's retirement party." He wiggles his eyebrows, excited like a kid. "Party it is!" "Also, if you don't mind get her crap packed." "Why, what did you do Tony?" "Oh nothing, she just overstayed her stay." He gave her the most innocent smile ever he could give anyone. "With pleasure!" She replied graciously.

Steve was eager to tell Sharon the news. But as usual she was busy again. Steve was confident this move, will make his wish come true. He'll finally have what he wanted. He waited and waited, but Sharon was late. When she did arrive finally, she was too tired to listen to him. Though Steve was bit persistent to tell her, she was irritated by him, making him sleep on the couch again in his own room.

Two nights later, Tony and Nat indeed threw a party for Steve, little miss Sharon had no clue about his retirement. Now how's that possible? Let's say Tony convinced Steve it would be the most brilliant thing to do by surprising her. Hence Steve didn't tell her anything about retiring. Tony's parties were always extravagant. This fake party was no less either. While you and Bucky along with the rest were having fun, Steve was being dragged by Sharon from person to person. Making more and more contacts. Before Steve finally managed, to convince her to stop for a drink. The pair were headed in the direction of you guys, but no one paid heave to them. Sharon couldn't stop glaring at you and Bucky, before she opened her mouth only to be ignored by everyone except for Steve. "Gosh, me and Steve met so many influential people, what's the occasion Stark?" Now this was the moment Tony and Nat were waiting for, where Nat screamed for more shots, Tony smirked proudly, "This party is for Steve's retirement" The moment those words left from his mouth, all colors drained from her face. Her fake smile faded into a frown, anger and disbelief.

"Steve's what?" "Honey I'm retired, we can have time for ourselves." "Are you crazy?!"

----------------------------------------------------- Part 9 Part 10 ----------------------------------------------------- (Hey lovelies part 8 is here, I hope you all enjoy! Comments and feedbacks appreciated as always. ❤️☺️) -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst

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jokeroutsubs · 5 months ago

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[ENG TRANSLATION] Joker Out, or the return of faith in the power of music:

Original article written by Žikica Milošević for EXIT 13.07.2024. English translation by IG irenalemajic, proofread by IG gboleyn123

The second night of Exit Festival 2024 on the Tesla Universe stage was literally and thematically dedicated to pop music, specifically 'classic', 'old school' pop music. The most significant stage of the festival was marked by performers from Slovenia and Vojvodina, so the north of former Yugoslavia demonstrated how to create an atmosphere and memorable songs.

And it began powerfully, while the sun above Petrovaradin Fortress, after another day of being merciless, was still blinding the performers, because Astrid & The Scandals got on the stage at 7:30 p.m. restoring our faith in alter-pop, as well as in Slovenian talent to produce hitmakers. In the old Yugoslavia, Slovenians were always at the forefront of musical breakthroughs, dictating trends along the Ljubljana-Zagreb-Belgrade axis. Independent Slovenia no longer had a lead role and for many decades we did not hear performers similar to Laibach, Pankrti, Lačni Franz or Buldožer, but the situation has abruptly changed in the past few years.

Instead of avant-garde and peculiar performers, hitmakers and creators of great pop music are now coming from Slovenia. The bouncy Astrid energetically announced the 'new era', adding oriental elements to her music, dancing seductively and delivering vocal virtuosity. Undoubtedly, she is 'the next big thing' in pop music in the region, and with a bit of luck, in Europe as well.

It has not happened for a long time, that the atmosphere becomes so 'heated' already at 8 p.m, but Astrid had already raised the temperature and the girls in Joker Out T-shirts were in the front rows even during the performance of Ljubičice, which perfectly continued the series of performances this evening. Their concert is a kind of poetic justice - they were supposed to lead the Main Stage at Exit in 2019 at 8 p.m. but unfortunately, the storm cut the program short and 'plucked' them from the lineup.

In the meantime, the band from Pančevo, which is composed of the two Stevanović brothers, who got a classical music education, has grown into a trio, since Olga Petrović has recently joined them as the 'third flower' in their little bouquet. There's an old saying that 'Vojvodina is Britain and Belgrade is America' in music, and pop bands from Vojvodina are widely known for their fresh melodies and hit potential and Ljubičice who, with their 'brotherly and neighbourly' band Buč Kesidi, began to conquer the region even before the pandemic, gaining fame with the song 'Jedva čekamo rat ljudi protiv mašina'. Ljubičice are the kind of pop band we've needed for a long time, and if their songs reminded me of anything, it is the sunset in summer...of 1983. A mixture of funk, synthwave and nostalgia, combined with guitar and bass skilfulness, gave us an excellent overture for what will happen later. Vuk reminded the audience that they performed at Exit back in 2014 on the Jack Daniels Stage, when they were young and relatively unestablished – and now they command the stage as if they were born to it.

And then - Joker Out, heartbreakers from Ljubljana, form with substance, the best of both worlds. It was clear to us what to expect when, at the mere hint of their entrance, the screams of the girls began, which I remember from the documentaries about The Beatles. Love messages on cardboard signs, choral singing, fantastic communication between the band and the audience were evident right from the opening song, 'Katrina'.

Joker Out are much more raw and more guitar-driven during their live performances than on their 'polished' recordings and the influences of bands such as Arctic Monkeys or The Strokes are evident.

On the other hand, the fascination of the female part of the audience is completely understandable, because besides the fact that they really know how to play, all five members have a 'superstar vibe', in the way Duran Duran or Spandau Ballet once had the same vibe. I believe that the last time such a reception was registered was during the era of boy bands 20+ years ago, but the Jokers are anything but a boy band. Singer Bojan Cvjetićanin probably 'reaped' the biggest 'harvest' of love from the audience, but the other members are not that far behind.

Slovenian is 75% understandable when read or spoken, which drops to 50% when sung (and when thousands of girls are singing along with Bojan), but it's clear that the lyrics are engaged in a way similar to Buč Kesidi – precisely dissecting the everyday life of young people in a big city, their disappointments, dates, breakups, loves and sorrows...

Bojan won the hearts of the local audience from the very beginning by addressing them in Serbian and he also managed to make a 'population census' among the attenders. We saw that (incredibly loyal fan base) quite a number of spectators came from Slovenia, but that there were even more people from the other parts of the former Yugoslavia and even those who understand none of our languages - simply driven by their love for the band that gained wider popularity at Eurovision in 2023.

The Jokers did not hide their exitement to perform on this already legendary stage.

The concert continued with a series of songs that are 'friendly' for parties, bedrooms, the beach and the radio - 'Plastika, znanstvena fantastika' and Bojan's sharp analysis of the 'culture' of plastic beauty made me look around and conclude that none of the girls in the audience were 'plastic' - which is a breath of normality and freshness we've been lacking now that we are wrapping up the first quarter of the 21st century. A better future is still possible, even though a worse present is dominant.

Joker Out jokingly call their style 'shagadelic rock' (translate it by yourself, but watch Austin Powers first), but there is nothing funny about their music. All of their songs are in Slovenian, except for two they performed in Serbian¹ (Bojan’s background allows him to play with languages and easily switch from one to another) and one in English.

In the song 'Tokio', they took us to Japan and sang part of it in Japanese too, previously teaching a 'little course on love expressions in Japanese.'

'The song that brought us here – 'Carpe Diem'!' – Bojan shouted and the audience received an infusion of energy and joy. Indeed, it was almost unimaginable 20 years ago that a 'schlager festival' would produce new stars and headliners, but Eurovision has become just that – a springboard. And it doesn't matter that they were 21st in the competition. Who cares about numbers – some performers are there to win points during the competition and some are there to conquer the world after the competition. The last song, 'Šta bih ja', was perfectly timed to be released on Friday, on the day of the concert – and it tells us, somewhat in the manner of 'Arctic Monkeys listening to Sarajevo pop', about the experience of life in London.

Joker Out brought 'sexy' back to pop music. We didn't lack cheap sex appeal all these years, but we did miss sophisticated and rock sex appeal. They brought the classic pop formation back big time – and we've missed it. They brought the energy back to the stage, female fans who travel to see them, scream their names and know all the songs by heart.

I can imagine the 'good old' days of girls' bedrooms decorated with their posters. Even if they hadn't recorded a single good song, all of this would have been enough and refreshing. But they recorded plenty of good ones. And somehow I believe we witnessed history and the beginning of a 'stellar' story with five guys from Ljubljana in the lead role.

¹In this case, the author of this article is referring to two songs that have already been released in Serbian, 'Ona' and 'Demoni'.

The band now has three songs in Serbian, including 'Šta bih ja'.

#joker out #jokeroutsubs #bojan cvjetićanin #bojan cvjeticanin #jan peteh #nace jordan #kris guštin #kris gustin #jure macek #jure maček

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whumpty-dumpty-doo · 9 months ago

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“We Are TroubleD” Masterpost

Welcome to the "We Are TroubleD" masterpost! Here you will find a list of things related to my OC whump fic "We Are TroubleD"! If any links aren’t working, please let me know!

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Story Overview:

Two college boys have their peaceful lives ripped apart when a ransom-seeking stranger abducts Darius, the son of wealthy parents. The kidnapper gets more than he bargained for when Tristan, Darius’ roommate is home during the invasion. In captivity the friends must lean on each other to survive their harrowing situation and find a way out of their shared hell.

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Rating:

18+ - contains mature themes

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Series content warnings, Chapters, FAQ and more below the cut!

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Content warnings:

Please note that each chapter/entry will have its own individual content warnings listed at the top of its page. Not all of these elements will appear in every chapter (especially the more intense and mature things, those will come much later in the story and will have clear warnings, so you should be safe for a while if you want to avoid that stuff!)

Overall warnings for this story’s content include (but aren’t limited to):

abuse (physical, emotional, and mental), blood, bondage, cages, captivity, crying, distress, drugging, dub-con, emotional whump, fear, forced participation (in sexual and non-sexual acts), gaslighting, hunger/starvation, hurtful language, injuries, insults, kidnapping, manhandling, non-con (both sexual and non-sexual), pet whump, physical violence, shocking, sickness, stress positions, swearing, things that are neither safe nor sane, thirst, threats, restraints

This list will be updated as things come up or need to be removed.

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Character Profiles:

Coming Soon!

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Canon story:

Coming soon!

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Misc. entries and one-shots (some might be worked into the canon story later):

Listed in chronological order, even if they were posted out of order due to an event/whump prompt.

Saturdays Are For Soup - (Pre-Capture) - Tristan pushes himself too hard and needs a hand from Darius. - Day 9 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Try to Forget Him - (Pre-Capture) - Part 1 and Part 2 - A night out at the club dredges up old feelings, leading a mysterious stranger to offer Tristan some advice - Day 7 and 12 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

The Capture (Darius' POV) – Darius comes home to an unwelcome surprise after a night out on the town – Day 1 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Come To and Find You - Darius wakes up feeling miserable, and quickly finds himself in a terrifying situation. He isn't alone, though... - Day 11 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

It's Never Enough – Darius and Tristan are in need of sustenance, but their captor likes to play sick games – Day 2 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Painted Into A Corner - Tristan takes a bold stand against their captor and lands both himself and Darius in a heap of trouble. - Day 3 of Whumpmas in July 2024

Below the Belt - Darius tries not to scream as he faces the painful, stinging consequences of his actions - Day 9 of Whumpmas in July 2024

Cut Me Loose – A crazy stroke of luck allows the boys a chance to escape if only they can cut through their bonds. – Day 3 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

A Shocking Offence – Tristan must find help if he hopes to save both Darius and himself. – Day 4 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Feeling Bushed – With their captor so close, Tristan must be very careful to avoid being spotted. – Day 5 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Feeling Bushed - Trailing Behind - You never know who's watching...

A Breathtaking View - Darius is desperate to buy Tristan more time to find help - Day 14 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, Speak no Evil - The captor returns from searching for the escaped Tristan, and Darius is left wondering just what happened to his friend. - Day 8 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

White Out - Darius slowly loses himself mentally, physically, and emotionally. - Day 6 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Reunited and Ignited - Things heat up when Darius and Tristan's reunion does not go how they hoped it would. - Day 15 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Burning For You - Darius has Tristan's back, but who's got his? - Day 13 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

Dinner and Unmoving - Tristan is plagued by a food coma while their captor follows his own agenda. - Day 27 of Whumpmas in July 2024

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Alternate Universes (AUs):

Royal AU - "The Relationship That Binds Us" - When Prince Darius is presented with an assistant, the last thing he expects is to fall in love. While earning the servant boy's trust, he fails to see what trouble is brewing right within the castle walls... - Day 10 of WoW's Birthday Whump Event! 2024

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Fun and games:

Ask box trick-or-treating 2024! - Darius and Tristan answered the door on Halloween night for anyone who wanted to visit! Did the guests get tasty treats, or spooky surprises? (Not whumpy, just lighthearted fun!)

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Art:

Darius tied to a chair

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FAQ:

Weren't Tristan and Darius called “T” and “D” before? Yes, for a long time several entries had the boy's names as their stand-in names, which were "T" and "D". I wanted to get the entries that I wrote for WoW's Birthday Whump Event! posted in time for the month that the event was happening, so Tristan and Darius were still nameless when I initially started posting pieces of the story. That is also why you might see comments below entries, my own personal tags, and several other things on this blog referring to the characters as "T" and "D". Their names weren't properly bestowed them until 7/17/2024, even though they had been around on this blog since 4/1/2024.

Does their captor have a name? Yes, but I'm not sure what it is yet. Like Tristan and Darius, I didn't have one in mind when I started writing and posting the event entries. He might get one later, but for now he's just "their captor" or "the man".

How old are the characters in your main story? Darius and Tristan are college age, though Iʻm not sure what specific ages yet. Theyʻre both beyond legal drinking age, and Darius is slightly older than Tristan. Thatʻs all I know for now, as Iʻm still writing the main canon story. Tentatively I have set Tristan's age at 22, but that is subject to change. They might be older or younger in side fics/AUs. If so, Iʻll state it in the post of the story entry itself.

Why is the “D” capitalized in “We Are TroubleD”? Because the character's initials make up the title of the story! The "T" comes from "Tristan" and the "D" comes from "Darius", therefore, "T"rouble"D"! The "We" is Tristan and Darius, and they are in trouble because they are whump characters.

How often will you update the canon story? Hopefully frequently once I get it off the ground, but you can never really predict that. Iʻm going to try to have as much as I can done of the whole story before I start posting in earnest, so hopefully once it starts going you wonʻt have to wait long!

Can I draw/write about your characters? Sure! Though it might be a bit challenging without references or profiles for them yet. Fingers crossed Iʻll have those made for the future! The one thing I ask is that if you create anything with my characters, please link back to me and donʻt claim them as your own. Thanks!

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littleredwing89 · 2 years ago

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PRINCE OF GOTHAM - PART 8

CEO!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings – Language. NSFW. Smut.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy the next chapter! :) apologies for no tag list, still trying to get it working and get back into the swing of things xoxo

——

Jason looked up as you wandered into the kitchen with three bags of popcorn under your arms. He chuckled and put down the newspaper he had, “What are these for?”.

“Movie night, duh!”, you grinned and grabbed some bowls out from one of the kitchen cupboards. You emptied the salt popcorn into the plastic tub, ignoring the small frown on his face.

“Which movie?”, he sounded suspicious and rightly so. The last film you’d both tried to watch ended with you under him on your couch. Not that you were complaining about that too much.

“It's a good movie, I swear”, you winked and slipped a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

Jason made his way across to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “It better not be like the last one”.

You scoffed, ignoring the blush covering the bridge of your nose, “I think you enjoyed the last one thoroughly”.

“Hmmmm”, he pretended to think, his voice dropped low, “I don't believe we ever finished that”, he dipped his head and trailed kisses up your neck.

You bit back a moan working it’s way up your throat, “We could try again if you want?”.

“Is that a smart move?”, he breathed against your flesh, enjoying the way your skin prickled against his stubble.

Sliding your hand down his front you sighed in bliss, “Mmhmm”.

Just as your fingers hit the waistband of his joggers, everything in the apartment went pitch black.

“What the-”.

You laughed and pressed your forehead into his chest, “I’m guessing that's a no from the universe then”.

Jason grumbled under his breath, tearing himself away from you and wandering across to the fuse box. He growled irritated and started flicking the red switches on and off repeatedly with no luck.

“Oh for fucks sake!”.

“It’s just a power cut”, you chuckled to yourself and stroked your hand down his spine delicately, “Relax, don’t you have any candles?”.

He sank into your touches and closed his eyes, enjoying the waves of calm you radiated into his stiff body, “I do”.

“And you never thought to use them to set the mood?”.

Jason grunted, “That’s a fire hazard…plus I don’t need candles to get you in the mood”.

You grinned, “You’re such a buzz kill!”.

He rolled his eyes and moved across the kitchen, “I think I have them here somewhere…”.

“Why don’t you go light the fireplace”, you moved him out of the way, “And I’ll sort out the candles”. You opened the cupboard next to the oven and found the candles easily. You’d spent so much time here now you knew your way around his kitchen, often finding things quicker than Jason.

———

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually used the fireplace. Maybe he hadn’t. He watched you potter around the living room, dotting the candles around sporadically creating a soft romantic glow.

“Maybe I should use these candles more often”, he mused, unable to take his eyes off your beautiful smile.

“I thought it was a fire hazard”, you teased.

Jason huffed out a puff of air. He didn't want to admit that seeing you smile was all he needed. Regardless of the impending fire risk.

“As long as they’re under control it’s fine”.

You giggled more and finished lighting the last few candles around the living room before heading over to the fire, “There goes our movie marathon”.

“I can think of a way to pass the time”, he winked across at you, patting the space in front of him.

“You’re insatiable”.

“Only for you”.

You sat down on the soft fur rug facing into the blazing logs, with your arms wrapped around your legs and clasped in front of your shins. Jason pulled you between his open legs and you relaxed, leaning back onto his chest. You let your head relax against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut at the gentleness of his actions.

Jason folded his arms alongside the outside of yours, to match their bend and bring a little extra warmth to them. It was a moment of sheer bliss. His senses were filled with the citrus scent of your hair. Your shampoo bottle pressed up against his in the bathroom. His head leaned down to inhale the fragrance of your skin, and his lips kissed the intersection of your neck. Jason smiled and smoothed his touches along your shoulder. You released a long and rather languorous sigh, with just the hint of a moan floating on it. The first kiss led itself to a long, slow series replicating the first wherever his lips could reach.

“Jason…”.

You let your head and shoulders droop forward, and in doing so let the shirt's right shoulder slide slowly down your arm, bringing the neckline along. Jason leaned forward again and gently kissed the back of your neck enjoying the way you shivered, his stubble scratching you perfectly. He saw that the shirt’s; his shirt; other shoulder had fallen as well. The elegant silk cloth was now loose and slowly uncovering your strapless bra, along with the perfect curves of your breasts.

Jason’s hands still covered yours, and he lifted them up to touch your supple flesh, pulling you into him tighter. He felt a tremor somewhere inside you when both of your paired hands reached the soft skin left exposed by your lace bra.

The thrill of your hands touching your soft breasts together made him groan into the nape of your neck, hot breath fanning over your skin. You purred at the sensations. You slipped your hands out of his and pulled the bra down, letting his hands envelop your bare breasts.

Jason forgot to breathe momentarily. You melted into his touch. His hands alternated between palming your breasts and teasing your nipples with his thumb and fingers. You moaned, arching further into his hands, the sensual delights sending tremors across your whole body.

Slowly you twisted round to kneel between his legs, rising up on your knees in front of Jason. Your breasts bounced tantalisingly in front of him, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He reached around behind your back, now warm and damp from the heat of the fire, and pulled you towards him.

Gentle kisses brushed over each of your nipples before his tongue traced over the tips. You gasped, hands tugging his hair sending sparks of desire down his spine. His teeth grazed them, tugging them to hardened peaks. Jason looked up and fell under the spell of your smouldering eyes, radiant again with their own light in silhouette from the fire burning next to you.

Rising to your feet, you reached down and quickly pulled his shirt straight over your head, tossing it aside leaving you in nothing but a pair of black lace pants. His hands had slipped up the velvet softness of the back of your thighs to pass over the lush curves of your ass, tracing the edge of the lacy fabric. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, suppressing the obscene moan. He pressed his face forward and kissed the front of your pants, his hot mouth working over your clit.

“Jay…”, you whined low, legs shivering with pleasure.

He slid his fingers into the waistband of your panties before dragging them tortuously slow down your legs. The lace created a delicious friction against your heated skin. They dropped to your feet leaving you completely bare in front of him. The amber glow of the fire lighting your body perfectly to Jason. He knew you were stunning but this was completely different. The way the flames highlighted every inch of your curves, making you look like a goddess emerging from the flames.

Your fingers bunches in the material of his T-shirt, tugging lightly. You didn’t say anything. Jason’s arms bent behind his head as he lifted it off revealing the expanse of his solid chest.

“Lie down princess”, he kissed the insides of your thighs.

You sat down gently, Jason guiding you slowly back onto the rug. The fur felt like silk under your skin. He hovered over you, nose tracing yours before he kissed your lips. Your legs fell open, letting him settle between them perfectly. His lips curved at your reaction.

He let his hands travel the lushness of your body, followed closely with hot, opened mouthed kisses. You writhed under him, the coil tightening in the pit of your stomach. You needed him impossibly closer.

Jason’s tongue dipped into your navel before dragging down your body, settling between your wide open legs. You murmured his name repeatedly, fingers twisting into his dark locks, trying to guide him where you needed him most.

His tongue ran along your dripping slit and your thighs clamped around his head. He groaned against your pussy and pushed your legs back open, holding them there. The vibrations of his moans sent waves of pleasure through you.

He swept his tongue through your folds several times, before wrapping his lips around your clit. You cried out and gripped his hair, tugging harshly. He smirked and flicked it, earning more beautiful whimpers.

Your hips thrashed against his mouth, aching to tip over the edge. Jason followed the spasms of your body, allowing you to chase your high. He slipped two fingers into your gushing core, feeling the wet heat instantly wrap around him. The thought of sinking his cock into you and feeling you cling desperately to him made his shaft twitch with excitement.

You released his hair when you felt the first wave of your orgasm crash. You gripped the rug behind your head and sobbed his name, your desire soaking his face. Jason didn’t let you go, coaxing you into another earth shattering climax with his tongue. Shuddering spasms wracking over you.

When he pulled his face away from your dripping core, he looked up at your slick body covered with a thin sheen. Damp from the sweat of the fire and your orgasms. Your chest heaved as you took in greedy gulps of oxygen, steadying yourself. Jason couldn’t tear his gaze away. The glare of the fire bathing you in a mystical orange glow. You looked serene.

When he made his way back up your body and kissed you deeply, it took you by surprise to feel the length of his naked body pressed into yours. He’d rid the rest of his clothes. Your hands rubbed down his back, nails dragging down his spine when you felt his cock stroke through your sopping folds. His muscles flexed and he groaned into your mouth. You could taste your arousal on his tongue as it caressed yours with a softness you weren’t used to with him. The kiss shook you.

One of his hands inched down your side, feather-light before hooking your leg around his waist. You sighed happily into the kiss, nails scraping against his scalp. Jason pushed his hips forward and sunk into you slowly, groaning huskily as your tight wet walls wrapped around his cock perfectly.

Hearing your muffled cries against his lips encouraged him to thrust deeper, the drag of his shaft eliciting ripples of pleasure across your body.

“Fuck”, he muttered against your kiss swollen lips, his stubble prickled your cheek when he rubbed his to yours, “You feel perfect”.

Every sensation heightened the want coiling inside you. Ripping through your core and up your spine. Every touch was euphoric with hidden sensuality.

“Jason-oh!”, your voice threaded through his mind. Your desire made his cock pulse inside you.

He propped himself up with his elbow next to your face twisting with delirious passion. The silken fur brushed against his skin, it was a nice sensation, but nowhere close to how you felt under him. You lifted your hips to meet his thrusts, aching to feel him deeper. The way he caged you with his arm made your pussy flutter around him. He growled in your ear, his thumb stroking over the dip of your hip bone.

You tilted your head back, murmuring delicate praises. Without thought his lips traced the line of your throat, littering it with kisses as he drove harder into you. The moans escaping your mouth vibrated deep from your chest and Jason felt it as he kissed along your collarbone, nipping occasionally.

Like the surf crashing against the shore, your climax washed over you with the force of a tidal wave. You saw a blinding white light behind your eyelids as you sobbed his name. Nails clutching the back of his neck as you rode your high, thighs quivering around his waist.

The intensity of your orgasm and the way your core clenched around him, Jason followed you off the cliff edge falling into his own powerful end. He groaned your name deeply, his damp forehead pressed against your chest. His cock pulsed as he emptied thick, ropes of cum inside your pussy.

You stayed like that. Entwined together as the flames of the fire danced away, licking over your bodies. Occasionally kissing, fingertips stroking over one another. A type of intimacy one would share only with their lover. Nothing was said. You didn’t need to. You both felt it. It was obvious. Something had shifted.

Jason carried you to bed that night. His strong arms lifting you into his king sized bed. When he placed you onto the luxury linen, it was the only time you were out of his embrace. The second he slipped under the sheets, he pulled you back into his chest, moulding his body around yours. You hummed happily, your hand squeezing his forearm draped over your waist. The weight of it made you feel comforted. Secure.

“G’night princess”, his voice rasped, tickling your ear before he kissed the spot behind it.

——

#ceo!jason Todd x reader #ceo!jason todd x you #ceo!jason todd x reader insert #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader insert #red hood x you #red hood smut #red hood x reader #red hood x reader insert #red hood imagine

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heli-writes · 1 year ago

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Marriage of Convenience, part 9: moving places.

Pairing: Yoriichi x you

Summary: Yoriichi's friends think that Yoriichi is too lonely and needs a wife and family to take care of him. They propose a marriage of convenience to a woman who's in need of a husband. The arrangement of the marriage is simple: both parties live their lives as before, y/n takes care of Yoriichi as a wife and Yoriichi keeps unwanted men (and demons) away. Love is not required, friendship is appreciated. However, how detached can one be when living so close to each other?

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You need to hold still, Yoriichi!", (y/n) scolds him, "I know the cream burns but it prevents scaring. You don't want to have scars on your pretty face, do you?". Yoriichi blushes when he hears (y/n) call his face pretty. He holds still and lets (y/n) do her work. (Y/n) put Yoriichi on bed rest since the incident in the village. After the first morning, (y/n) has taken care of Yoriichi's wounds. Not with one word, she scolded him for being too careless or for getting injured. However, he can see the worry on her face every time she changes the bandages on his shoulder. (Y/n) has been to the village multiple times. She supported the medics during the first day after the attacks and went over to the village daily for the first two weeks. Some people passed away due to their injuries the first days but after the first week, all survivors were stable and on their way to recovery. While (y/n) was away, Yoriichi looked after (y/s/n). Although one might argue that (y/s/n) looked after Yoriichi since he hasn't left Yoriichi's side ever since the night the demon slayers viciously knocked on their door. Yoriichi also had enough time to brood on the question of what a lower moon was doing at the village. He can come up with only one answer: Muzan must've sent the demons to scout the area. He must've caught wind of Yoriichi or (y/n) living close by. He wonders if Muzan knows that they're married. Either way, life has become more dangerous for the two. It's only a matter of time until they're found.

"Alright, all done!", (y/n) chirps cheerfully. She strokes a few hair strands out of Yoriichi's eyes and carefully cups the injured side of his face. It's a soft, intimate act and Yoriichi can feel his cheeks heating up again. "I think we can pull out the stitches of your shoulder tomorrow.", she announces cheerfully and lets go of Yoriichi's face. "I'm going to look after (y/s/n). I think he's trying to make breakfast again and I can't bear another burned slice of bread again.", (y/n) laughs and gets up. Yoriichi quickly dresses himself and joins the two of them in the kitchen. Just when they were about to start breakfast, there were loud bickering outside the door. When (y/n) went to look for the source of the ruckus, she's met with the three demon slayers that carried Yoriichi to their house after the fight with the demon. "Hello there! What are you doing here?", she asks the three of them. "Well... we just wanted to see how Yoriichi is doing.", Tahiro tells her. "You three are in luck. We were just about to have breakfast.", she says and offers them to come in. "Oh, great! I'm starving!", a demon slayer called Shouta says.

"So, how have you been Yoriichi?", Shouta asks the other man with his mouth full of scrambled eggs. "I've been fine.", the burgundy-haired man responds offhandedly. "You'll have to excuse my husband. He's a bit shy around strangers.", (y/n) tells them quickly. Yoriichi nods and keeps eating his breakfast. "So have you found out anything new about the attack on the village? It was a rather unusual event, wasn't it?", (y/n) ask. The three demon slayers exchange sinister looks. "Well, we don't know why exactly your village has been targeted, but..." Tahiro starts. "But other places in the area have been targeted in the past few weeks. We don't know what all of this means, but it seems to us as if the attack were strategic. Like... they're searching for something and combing through all nearby places.", the third demon slayer, Takumi, finished. (Y/n) looks into her tea cup worriedly and Yoriichi pushes his breakfast away, suddenly having lost all appetite. It's now what they're searching for, but who they're searching for, he thinks to himself. For the rest of the breakfast, the group spends small talking and exchanging pleasantries. When (y/n) and Yoriichi wave the three goodbye, Yoriichi tells (y/n): "We need to talk".

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"What do you mean?", (y/n) asks him even though she heard him loud and clearly. Yoriich doesn't look at her. "I'm sorry.", he tells her. "We can't move!", (y/n) exclaims. "We have to.", Yoriichi states firmly. "This is ridiculous! You're being ridiculous!", (y/n) states, crossing her arms in front of her chest like a sulking toddler. Yoriichi turns to her. "Do you think these are coincidences? The attack on the village, on the places around us?", he asks her. "It could be.", (y/n) tries to argue. "They're not. You know that.", Yoriichi says. (Y/n)'s body posture goes slack in defeat. "You think they're really after us?", she whispers. The fear is evident in her voice. She sinks down on the bench in front of their garden. Yoriichi sits down beside her and takes her hand. "Yes, I do. I don't know if they're looking for you or me or both of us, but-", he starts. "But it doesn't matter.", (y/n) finished his sentence. "We belong together, so if they're after one of us, we stick together.", she says firmly. Yoriichi's face softens and he gives (y/n)'s hand a light squeeze. "I'll protect you. The both of you.", he tells her. (Y/n) rests her head against his shoulder. "Don't be silly.", she replies, "Don't you remember what we talked about before we got married?". Yoriichi thinks back to the conversation. He can still taste (y/n)'s homemade bread and jam when he thinks back to it. "Things changed.", he simply says. (Y/n) shifts her head and she look up to him. "Because you found out about me and my family? Wouldn't that even be more the reason to let me figure this out on my own?", she asks selfconsciously. Yoriichi lets go of her hand. He's staring up at the sky, thinking carefully about what he says next.

Then, he turns around to (y/n) and pulls her into his arms. One of his hands pushed her head against his chest. (Y/n) can hear his steady heartbeat. "Your situation doesn't change anything about mine. You being targeted by Muzan has nothing to do with me being targeted by him. Your presence does not put me in more danger than I already am.", he states firmly. (Y/n) eases into his embrace and grabs his clothes for support. She can already feel tears welling in her eyes. Ever since that night, she secretly was worried about Yoriichi holding a grudge against her and her dishonesty. "Things changed because back then I didn't know you. I thought keeping you an arm's length away from me meant protecting myself. I thought that by not letting you close to me, I could avoid getting hurt again by failing to protect you.", he says. (Y/n) sniffs and pulls herself up a little so that she can hide her face into his neck. "Truth is that I even failed at that. Despite my efforts, you got close to me. So close, that I couldn't bear it if something happened to you or our boy.", he confesses. (Y/n) pulls him closer, tears streaming down her face and into Yoriichi's hair.

"You silly man.", she eventually says pulling away from him. (Y/n) cups Yoriichi's face with both her hands. "I feel the same way. Your presence has become so much more valuable to me than just keeping attention away from me. That's why I don't want you to put yourself in harm's way to protect us.", she says pulling his face closer and resting his forehead onto hers. "Having you come home with that terribly wound on your shoulder made me realize I don't ever want to see you hurt like this again.", she whispers with closed eyes. Yoriichi places his hands on her lower back. He breathes out shakily. His heart feels full and broken at the same time. (Y/n) opens her eyes and they meet with his dark ones. Yoriichi pulls her closer and their lips meet softly. There's no pressure behind it, their lips just carefully brush over one another's. (Y/n) is not sure if one can call this a kiss. She lets go of Yoriichi's face and wraps her arms around him. For a while they stay like this, just embracing each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"I know you don't want to go, my love.", (y/n) says kneeling in front of the bedroom. (Y/s/n) locked himself into the room in an attempt to stop them from leaving the cottage. "I can just break the door.", Yoriichi points out quietly behind her. (Y/n) gives him a disapproving look. She knocks on the door again. "Sweetheart, please open the door. Let's talk about this. I promise we won't force you to leave.", (y/n) tries to plead with the boy. There's a clicking sound and the door slowly slides open, revealing only (y/s/n)'s eye. "C'mon, baby. Let us in.", (y/n) says softly. (Y/s/n)'s face disappears but the slit of the door remains open. (Y/n) takes this as an invitation to come in. (Y/n) enters the room and sees the boy sitting cross-legged in the middle of the empty room with his back turned to her. (Y/n) sits behind him and leans her back to his. Yoriichi leans in the doorframe watching the two of them wordlessly. "I'm sorry, my love. I know you like it here. I don't want to leave either.", she tells him. (Y/s/n) gets up onto his feet and pushes his mother. Not hard enough to cause any harm, but hard enough to make clear what he wants to say. Why are we leaving? I don't want to. (Y/n) looks to Yoriichi unsurely. They can't tell him that demons are after them. (Y/n) doesn't know how much (y/s/n) remembers of the night his parents died. She doesn't know how much will return to him if they confront him with it. Yoriichi and her decided to tell (y/s/n) that they had to leave because of work. However, (y/s/n) is smarter than he leads on. He knows they are not telling him something.

Yoriichi enters the room and sits down next to his wife. He leaves some space in between them and pats on the floor, an invitation to the boy to sit down next to them. (Y/s/n) refuses and only crosses his arms over his chest. "Look, it's not like we're gone forever. We just have to move away for a little while. Eventually, we can come back. We promise.", Yoriichi tries to convince the boy. "And the new place is very nice, too. It's also near a forest and there are other people living there, too!", (y/n) adds. "There are kids your age. Isn't that nicer than just living with old people like us?", (y/n) attempts to persuade him. Yoriichi notices a change in the boy's demeanor. His shoulder sinks a little and he doesn't seem as determined as before. Then, the boy throws himself into (y/n)'s arms. She manages to catch him just in time. I like living with you. I don't want to go. (Y/n) softly strokes the boy's hair. "We will all live together and look after each other. What do you say?", (y/n) softly says. (Y/s/n) shrugs but grips his mother a bit tighter. "It's a nice big house with a big garden. The children have their own area to play in. We get our own room, so if you don't want to play with the others, you can always go there.", (y/n) starts listing things. The boy shrugs again. Yoriichi scoots a bit closer. "I won't be away so much. Maybe I can also take some days off.", Yoriichi chirps in. "And I'm sure Yoriichi is happy to use that extra time to play with you.", (y/n) tries to sweeten the deal. The boy slowly lets go of his mother.

Yoriichi and (y/n) look at each other pleased. They get up and take the boy's hands. "Let's go then.", (y/n) says.

#demon slayer #demon slayer yoriichi #kny #kny x reader #kny x you #yoriichi tsugikuni #yoriichi x y/n #yoriichi x you #kimetsu no yaiba #yoriichi #demon slayer imagine #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x y/n #yoriichi imagine #yoriichi tsugikuni imagine

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watchoutforthefanfics · 6 months ago

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achievement unlocked 🔓 (part fourteen) || Streamer AU! Reddie (IT)

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration: this prompt + BIRDS OF A FEATHER by Billie Eilish

Summary: Richie liked to play video games, and by some stroke of luck, it became his job. Being primarily known as Trashmouth on stream, he found his own little group of streamer friends and they became intertwined: The Losers Club. It never did feel quite complete, though. Well, until, he got his very own backseat gamer in chat.

TWs: innuendos, lots of talk of sex (it's Richie), cursing, brief mention of toxic relationships, and shameless flirting.

[[A/N: Fun fact, the songs I use in this fic are based on me shuffling my playlist and what comes up so. Enjoy :))]]

Richie was kinda sick of the road.

It was the fourth morning, and he thought he was in Oklahoma. Maybe.

The state sign was a few hours back, and Richie's mind was kinda melting. Just interstate, miles and miles of roads and cars, and luckily, changing trees and skies. Otherwise, his brain was definitely on low power mode: not tired, but in a mental capacity kinda way.

Eddie was doing something, or so he assumed. So currently, he was listening to music to try and keep him sane.

"Can I call you Rose?" Richie muttered along, switching lanes (his exit was coming up), "-'Cause your fragrance takes over the room."

🎵 Can I call you Rose?🎵

"Darling~" Richie got more into it, tapping along the steering wheel, "-I wanna-"

A chime echoed through the speakers, cutting off the music. Richie blinked, turning to his phone: e.kaspbrak is trying to videochat.

Quickly, Richie adjusted the angle to face him more, and answered.

"Hiya, Eds," he spoke, in a cliché New Yorker accent, "-What can I do for ya?"

He flicked his eyes to the camera and caught Eddie setting his phone up and stepping back -holding up two shirts. He looked like he was in a store, one where no one would mind if he took up a little space.

The traffic halted in place, and Richie would normally be pissed but he had Eddie now. So, he was completely fine with it. Grateful even.

"Which one's better?" Eddie asked, holding up one and then the other, "The blue or the pink?"

Richie's eyes lingered on the phone for maybe a second too long, because-

"Look at the road, fuckface," Eddie chastised.

"Traffic is completely stopped, Eddie baby," Richie soothed, nearly immediately, "-I am perfectly safe. Plus, how am I supposed to help if I can't look?"

Eddie's lips pressed into a thin frown.

Richie took the moment to skim over Eddie, he was dressed like he was on a run (he assumed he was). Wearing a red tanktop and running shorts, Richie couldn't decide if it was hot or cute. Eddie was a mixture of both in his mind, honestly. And then his eyes flicked to the shirts, simple ones, one tanktop with a graphic on it (Kirby, Richie thinks), and the other a simple baby blue t-shirt with a white collar and sleeve cuffs.

"Whichever you want, Eds," Richie spoke, passively, "-They're both good."

Eddie frowned again, pushing them forward further, "I asked you, dipshit. I want your opinion. Which one?"

Richie pursed his lips, eyes dashing to the road (still stagnant), before snapping back over to the phone. He really looked at the two of them, really fucking looking. Because that's what Eddie wanted, and Richie wanted to do what Eddie wanted for the rest of his life, probably. Taking a minute, he imagined Eddie in each one individually. He could picture Eddie pretty clearly now, honestly; he felt like he knew him like the back of his hand.

Blue with white collar, Richie's mind tsked, graphic pink tanktop.

"Blue," he answered succinctly (Eddie nodded and put the pink tanktop out of frame), and asked, curiously, "-and why exactly did you need my opinion, Eds?"

Eddie picked up his phone, as Richie looked forward and watched the cars begin to move -he shifted all of his focus. Eyeing the exit he needed to get off on, Richie waited patiently for Eddie's response.

"You're my boyfriend, dipshit," Eddie remarked, "-I want you to like how I fucking look."

"Eds, you could wear a neon jumpsuit that was so bright it burnt my fucking corneas," Richie laughed, pulling off onto the new road (GPS said something about turning left so he did), "-and I would still love the shit out of you."

"I didn't say you wouldn't love me," Eddie clarified, pointedly, "-I said that I wanted you to like how I look. I know you fucking love me, but that doesn't mean I can't like... fucking please your tastes or some shit."

"Awe," Richie cooed, "-Eds wants to please my tastes-"

"Shut the fuck up, asshole, you know what I mean-" Eddie huffed out, exasperated, "-Like I like your hair this length. If you cut it short, I'd fucking kill you."

"You like my hair?" Richie laughed, "-The monster that just fucking sits on my head? The shit I don't even try to take care of? The-"

"Yes," Eddie interrupted, "-I fucking love your curls. Even though you don't give a shit about them, I will. I'll figure that shit out, and take care of them. Because you're never getting fucking rid of them, ever."

I want you to be here to stop me, forever. God, I would do fucking anything-

"Salon Eds," Richie chimed, in an infomercial sort of way, "-where you don't give a fuck, but he does."

"That's not... Whatever, the point is-" Eddie continued, "-I want to hear your opinion, just like you want to hear mine."

"I don't even have a fucking opinion on myself, Eddie baby," Richie laughed out, winking exaggeratively, "-I am completely moldable. In more than one way too, if you know what I'm saying-"

"Shut up," Eddie laughed out, and Richie wished he could look. God, he fucking loved him, "-You're such an asshole."

The rest of the ride was a lot of the same, just bickering and Eddie stayed on the entire time. Or well, did his best to. Richie could tell when he was getting tired, he got really fucking giggly (at least with Richie) and couldn't properly focus. So, when he noticed it, he'd send Eddie off to bed, refusing to entertain shit ("Someone wise once told me that not sleeping fucks with your brain function, Eds.") until he heard Eddie's little tiny snores -so quiet you wouldn't even catch it in person, probably. Richie somehow hoped he could.

Eddie had just fallen asleep (he was only an hour ahead of him at this point), and Richie was picking at his fingernails. His phone laid along the mattress, somewhere near his left hand. He just fidgeted and stared at the ceiling -thinking.

This was a big fucking deal, and the last time Richie made a big fucking deal in a relationship, his heart ended up splattered on the fucking sidewalk. It wasn't that he didn't trust Eddie, he did but it's just... It's a different wheelhouse to be with Richie all the time, not just in the moderation Eddie had.

Steve would probably say the same thing about this shit, that it's how he's wired and they're trying to change it but it's okay if it still seeps out sometimes. Because yeah, Richie was working on it, but he still felt... like shit.

He believed that Eddie really fucking liked who he was (loved it actually, indirectly said but still). He really fucking did. But that doesn't mean he, himself, does. And Eddie was fucking helping, constantly reassuring him and saying the shit that Richie just needed to hear. He really didn't know how Eddie did it, but he did. But still, this shit in him was rooted deep. Probably as soon as his fucking sister was born-

Ding.

benny.boy.official ✔️

hope you're having fun rich !!!

send pictures with Eddie when you get there ☺️

Richie stared at the message for a second.

Ben. Sweet, grounding, kind, Ben. Ben who would do everything in his power to believe the good in somebody, even if everything they fucking did was bad. And it wasn't even like he was naive, he just... he just believed the shit out of it.

Richie clicked call before he second guess it.

"Hi, Richie!" He chimed, soft and warm (always was), "-How's the trip going? 2 more days, right?"

"Heya, Benny," he smiled back, naturally relaxing at the sound of him, "-and yeah, tomorrow is the start of the fifth day. Only one more after that, and then I finally fucking get Eds."

"I know!" Ben grinned, and Richie heard the murmur of maybe a movie in the background, "-I'm so happy for you two. It's amazing, really, Eddie's so excited, I can tell."

"Yeah?" Richie asked, genuinely.

"Oh yeah," Ben reassured, "-We went to get coffee this morning and I've never seen him smile so much, Rich."

Richie's heart flipped in his chest (he hoped it never stopped doing that), and he grinned so brightly that it hurt. If he was on his stomach he might've been kicking his feet. Fuck, he really loved him. He hoped with everything in him that Eddie wouldn't get sick of him physically, god, please-

"Ben," he spoke, "-can I ask you a question?"

"'Course, Richie," he answered, maybe a little concerned, "-what's up?"

"Is... Do you think-" Richie started before exhaling a breath, "-Do you think I should be worried?"

"About what?" Ben asked, curiously.

"Well, um, everything," Richie laughed a little, nervous, "-I don't... There's no hesitation in my body about Eddie, seriously, not a fucking shred. But... What if it's different for him?"

Ben questioned further, "What do you mean?"

"What if Eddie's... not sure? Or-" Richie scrambled, "-what if he meets me in person and I... I scare him away? It's one thing to text and call me but to constantly be around me? I don't-"

"Richie, breathe," Ben interrupted, calmly.

Richie obediently did so. A long breath echoed out of his lungs, and his heart slowed.

"Okay, now," Ben began, gently, "-has Eddie ever told you that he's not sure? Or that he's hesitant?"

Richie pressed his lips together, "Well, no, but-"

"Rich, Eddie would tell you stuff like that," Ben cut him off, "-He's very straightforward, you know that."

Richie sighed, "Okay, yeah, so he's not hesitating. But... whose to say it won't be too much for him? All my shit."

"Richie, he's dating you. He cares about you," Ben hummed, "-You guys know each other inside and out because you want to learn it all. Both of you do. I don't think Eddie's going to run."

"But what if he does?" Richie asked, pathetically, "-I can't... Ben, if he can't handle me, I'm fucked. I don't think I can-"

"If anyone can handle you, it's Eddie," Ben laughed a little, before adding, "-except for maybe Stan and Patty."

Richie laughed a little too.

"The point being, if-" Ben made sure to stress that word, "-and I really don't think this would happen, okay? But if Eddie couldn't handle you, you'll be okay. It'll hurt, but all of us Losers will be here for you. Worst case scenario, you have us."

He let a breath rattle out of his lungs, "Yeah, I do."

"But Richie, I really don't think you should even think like that," Ben spoke, carefully, "-Eddie really, really cares about you."

"I know," Richie sighed out.

"I don't think he'd even want to leave your side, honestly," Ben hummed, "-When you're finally united, I don't think that Eddie will want to leave you alone again. Ever."

Richie pressed his lips together, as tears burned the backs of his eyes.

"Eddie's not gonna run, Richie," Ben echoed again. His voice soft and warm, it made Richie's head clear and eyes grow heavy.

"Yeah," Richie exhaled a deep breath, "-he won't."

He could almost hear the smile through the line, Ben's little soft one. The one that if you saw would make your insides feel gooey, because it was just so fucking kind. God.

"I love you, Benny," Richie spoke, light and scratchy.

"I love you too, Rich."

"Now," Richie switched gears, grinning, "-about Ms. Marsh-"

Richie woke up that morning lighter, Ben's words thrumming through his head. He was up, miraculously, at 7:30 (all these timezones were really fucking with his sleep schedule). And was currently debating getting ready and heading out early. Because he couldn't exactly wait, or sit still, it was fucking impossible for Richie Tozier. He was itching to fucking go, to shave down some of the hours to get to Eddie.

If he left early though, Eddie would probably freak out though (something about hours of sleep and blah, blah). So, he just decided to grab his phone and fidget with it for a while.

Richie liked to search himself up, he'll admit it. He liked to dive into his fandom like a super spy (like the boss working undercover in that one show). He did it for a lot of reasons, maybe to see what his fans wanted or what they were reacting well to. Sometimes just to see what shit they were up to. This usually spanned from a lot of different platforms: Instagram, YouTube (he loved watching edited compilations of himself), Reddit, and Tumblr primarily.

Today, his poison was Reddit.

r/trashmouthtozier

u/trashmeuptozy • 4d

What are our theories about Richie's disappearance?

2.4k upvotes • 1.7 comments

⬆️ ⬇️ 💬

toziers-texas-toast • 4 days ago

personally I think he's u-hauling

⬆️1.25k ⬇️89 💬

reddie-girlie • 3 days ago

all I know is that it probably involves 🍝

⬆️1.2k ⬇️27 💬

bouncing-baby-boy • 3 days ago

guys don't worry he's just on a side quest

⬆️1k ⬇️54 💬

not_on_my_crotch • 2 days ago

fucking ur mom

edit: ur dad sorry

⬆️967 ⬇️53 💬

Richie pursed his lips, letting out a sigh (a little of relief), he was actually kinda worried about the reception of him just up and leaving. But, they seemed to be handling it relatively well. They obviously had questions, as they should, but they weren't harassing him for answers, so it was good.

r/trashmouthtozier

u/tozier_babeyyyy • 2 hrs ago

Reddie Playing Minecraft (link)

my first ever reddie comp !!! Hope you guys enjoy :)

⬆️3.5k ⬇️22 💬

Richie stared at it for a second, before clicking the link. Maybe a little too quickly, they could have his IP address right now-

"Alright troops-"

And then it was off like a rocket, every single moment they spoke to each other -documented. He watched the village section more than once, of his own doing, just rewinding and watching it over and over. Watching Eddie shuffle behind him, like he'd known he'd protect him. God. What a stupid fucking way to feel about a game-

It carried on the same, all the moments he remembers (he doesn't think he can ever forget anything about Eddie to be fair) all the way up to the end of his stream. He watched himself do his outro, Eddie's Steve fidgeting with chests on his screen.

Laughing a little, he went to get out of the video, but-

BONUS ROUND: spaghetti talking about Richie to the other losers, flashed onto his screen -some very fast-paced royalty-free music following.

Richie paused for a second, what?

Now, he was looking at a clip from Bev's stream. Her camera up in the top right corner, Richie mindlessly noted that she had looked very pretty that day, good for her. Before focusing on her screen, where just a few steps in front of her Steve (Eddie) was watching Richie run around in circles with Bill. The iron golem, at that moment (it flicked between Bill and himself), was chasing him around the outskirts of the village.

"If he dies," Eddie suddenly spoke, and he watched Bev adjust her vision in the game to look at it, "-he doesn't like... Nothing bad happens, right?"

Richie smiled, gleaming a little bit.

"Nope," Bev smiled, bright, and popped the 'p', "-Worst-case scenario, he ends up back where we started and has to get back to us-"

Richie watched as Bill was suddenly launched into space and the chat snapped onto their screen.

big.bill was slain by an iron golem

He laughed a little at the memory.

"-Just like Bill will have to do now."

"Oh," Eddie responded, still watching Richie get chased around the village with a keen eye. Was he always looking at me?

"C'mon, Eddie," Bev interrupted, "-Let's steal some crops, and then we can tear down their houses for resources-"

"We sound like fucking colonizers," Eddie retorted, and both Bev and Richie started snort laughing in tandem.

And then, he was looking at Mike's screen, facing out onto the flower field. Eddie was stood right beside him, so he knew relatively when this was. Even heard himself a little distantly in the background.

"I'm staying here. I'm living here. My vote's for here-"

Mike was close to Eddie though, so now, he could hear Eddie laugh a little. A soft, sort of affectionate, of all things, laugh that made Richie's head spin a little. Okay, a lot. It made his head spin a lot.

Affectionate? For Richie Tozier? Praise fucking god-

"He's such an idiot," Eddie laughed out.

"In general? Definitely," Mike responded, laughing a little too, "-But for you? God help his brain cells."

"Yeah, well," Eddie spoke, soft, "-I'm an idiot for him to, so."

Ben interrupted the thought, "I agree, it's-"

And then, it cut again to Ben's stream, he was wandering over to where Eddie started building -assumedly from the direction of Bev's house. Unsurprisingly, Richie might add. He was half convinced they shared that house, actually-

"Do you think Richie will like it?" Eddie asked suddenly, Ben shuffling up to his side.

Richie grinned a little.

Ben grinned, big cheeks shot up with the warm motion, before adjusting his vision to see the frame that Eddie had built. It wasn't much, just the corners of each wall, but it was very meticulously done. Different blocks (which it should be said that Richie fetched him) all placed in their exact spot. It was pretty good for his second time playing, honestly. But, he might've been a little biased.

"It's really nice, Eddie," Ben chimed, cheerfully, "-but I do think you could build it out of dirt and Richie would still be stoked."

Very true, his mind agreed.

"I wanna actually put effort in," Eddie replied, flustered (Richie could see his cheeks all puffed up in his head), "-It's our house. Ya know? It's gotta be good."

"I think," Ben smiled, "-As long as you're in it Eddie, Richie will think it's good."

Eddie stayed quiet for a second, looking out at the house, staring. Richie waited with a breath.

"You're such a fucking sap, Ben," Eddie retorted, with no bite at all.

"Yeah, well, apparently," Ben turned to look at him, laughing, "-you are too."

And then, Eddie spoke softly, "Yeah, I am too."

Just like that, it cut to an end card. Subscribe button, next video and all.

Richie blinked, throwing himself back on the bed. Fuck, I love him. So much. Too much probably. Was he supposed to love somebody this much? Like with every fiber of his being? Every single cell? Every single fucking atom?

Taking a peek at the time, he quickly decided on sending a quick message.

trashmouth.tozier ✔️

good morninggggg eddie baby 💞✨️

hope you had dreams of fucking frolicking in meadows or some shit

Fuck it.

With a breath, he stood up and started packing. His tiny little bag, full of definitely too little outfits for a trip this long, but it would not be the first time he re-wore shit. So, he was okay with it. Until, ya know, he saw Eddie. He wanted to be wearing clean shit then (he saved his Marsh original that he liked so much for the occasion).

Humming along with a song that decidedly wasn't playing, grabbing all of his hygiene shit.

"Right now, he's probably dancing with a bleach-blonde tramp, and-" he murmured, before stressing out a word, "-and she's probably getting frisky."

Unzipping a pocket, he shoved his deodorant into it. And his cologne, fancy cologne, that he maybe only bought for meeting Eddie. But he did actually like it too. He wouldn't just buy it for Eddie (he totally did).

"Showing her how to shoot a combo," he sang louder, "-and he don't know-"

He heard his phone vibrate in his pocket. Felt rather.

e.kaspbrak is calling

Richie smiled a little, answering and putting it onto his shoulder (pushed up against the side of his head).

"Hey, Eds," he chimed, bright and smiley, and pulling his bag up off the floor. Day 5.

Eddie took a pause, and Richie heard maybe the scratch of a blanket. Had he just woken up?

And then, his voice came in quiet and sleep-slurred, "Hi, Rich."

Something warm shot through his toes, he'd never heard Eddie just woken up. This was new. And Richie wondered for a second if his hair was messy, or maybe his face had patches of red from where he'd slept. He'd get to see that soon, god.

"Awe, did my lil Spaghetti just wake up?" He cooed -half genuine and half teasing.

"The only thing that's right about that fucking sentence is that I'm yours."

Richie blinked. Mine, Eddie's mine. My Eds. 'I'm yours'. My Spaghetti. My boyfriend. My boyfriend, Eddie. Eddie's mine-

"Fuck yeah you are," Richie chimed -grinning bright and wide.

Eddie giggled a little (and Richie wondered if he was rubbing his eyes like a little toddler would), "Why are you up so early?"

"Dunno," Richie answered honestly, throwing his bag into the passenger seat (per usual), "-I just woke up this early, Eds. Aren't you normally up this early? Earlier, actually-"

"I don't have a job anymore, dipshit," Eddie explained, "-and I think I overdid it last run, so I slept in. Fuck you."

"Jeez," Richie laughed, connecting him to the radio, "-I was just asking a question. You wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

"No," Eddie replied, quickly, "-Speaking of, I sleep on the left-"

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "O-kay, Eds. What's-"

"-So, if you do too, you have to just fucking deal with it."

Oh.

Richie blinked, before answering awkwardly, "No problem, Eddie baby, I kinda just sleep in the middle."

"What the fuck do you mean-" Eddie mocked his voice, and Richie smiled (what a shithead), "-'I sleep in the middle'?"

"I spread out like a starfish," Richie clarified, listing, "-on my stomach, and sleep in the middle."

He could almost hear Eddie's nose scrunch up, "What the fuck? You're such a freak."

"What?" Richie asked, a little genuinely, "-Is that problem? I can just move over to the right side so-"

"No, it's not a fucking problem," Eddie interrupted, "-We're boyfriends, we can cuddle, idiot."

Richie blinked, Oh.

Cuddling with Eddie? Richie nearly pressed the gas to go fucking faster.

"Unless," Eddie paused, quieter -uncertain, "-Unless, you don't want to, I guess-"

"No, what," Richie clarified, swinging his hand around, and focusing on the car in front of him, "-Eds, that sounds like fucking... heaven. I just... I haven't thought about that shit. Because we were so far apart, it'd just make me sad as fuck-"

"Oh," Eddie spoke, blankly. Maybe a little flustered.

Richie wanted to see his face so badly right now that it made his skin itch. God, seriously-

"Yeah, well," Eddie pushed through his thoughts, "-you're gonna fucking kiss me when you get here, so. You better get fucking used to it."

Something swirled in his stomach. Kissing Eddie? Jesus, he hadn't thought about this shit at all. I get to kiss Eddie, god. In like a day-

"Why don't you just kiss me?" Richie laughed a little, splotchy red blush crawling to his cheeks.

"Because," Eddie answered, plainly, "-I want you to kiss me, asshole."

And I'd do anything you wanted, Richie's mind added.

"Yeah, okay, Eddie baby," Richie spoke softly, before switching up, "-As your celebrity crush, I know you've been dreaming of this moment for a long time-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, dickweed," Eddie snapped back, short laughter cutting into the tone.

"-Although, I should clarify, I won't be as good as dream Trashmouth," Richie commented, "-I may not hold up against the competition. But jokes on you, you can't leave me for me so."

"I haven't dreamed about you kissing me, moron," Eddie huffed out, "-and you need to get over that shit."

"No way," Richie laughed, turning slightly, "-That shit is sticking forever. Sorry, Eds."

"It's not that fucking important-"

"It is," Richie interrupted, "-It so is. I was your celebrity crush! That's so fucking sick."

"How?" Eddie asked, curiously.

"Well," Richie drummed his fingers along the wheel, "-you fucking watched my streams and thought, shit, he's handsome-"

"That wasn't-" Eddie paused, exhaling a breath, "-You're handsome, but it wasn't... How do I fucking-"

Richie furrowed his eyebrows, "Eds?"

"It was like-" he started, before decidedly restarting, "-It wasn't like a celebrity crush, where you just kinda think they're handsome and just like their voice or some shit-"

Richie listened.

"-It was like... It was like having a crush on my best friend. Because you're just-" Eddie paused, "-You're just so... you on your streams, so fucking... human. Celebrities are intangible as fuck, but you... You wore ugly fucking shirts, and you have the dumbest fucking jokes, and your hair is a mess on your head. You're a fucking person, and I just... I just wanted that. Wanted you."

Richie pressed his lips together, heart skipping a beat.

"So, it was like-" he continued, slow but deliberate, "-like we were, ya know, friends, and I just knew you. Saw all that shit firsthand. And I liked that. Liked you."

He blinked. Fuck, I love him so much.

"Well," Richie let out a breath, smiling too bright, "-that just makes it more important so. You've fucked yourself."

Eddie paused, "Shit."

Richie started snort laughing, eyes clear on the road despite the laugh wracking through him. He heard Eddie break into his own laughter, and it only made him smile brighter because, god, did he love the shit out of Eddie's laugh. Well, he loved the shit out of Eddie in general-

"Are you driving already?" Eddie asked, after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

"Yeah," Richie replied, turning off where he needed to, "-I woke up early and got fucking antsy. I'm not a patient man, Eds."

Eddie hummed a little, almost like he was still a little tired, "How long are you gonna drive today, then?"

"Well," he pursed his lips, trying to remember shit, "-I've got like 14 hours left, maybe less. You won't let me push shit but I have already driven 9 hours in a day before-"

"Richie," Eddie warned.

"-I know, Eds, I know. But it's either I do the long drive today or tomorrow, and I really don't want to be fucking passed out on my first day with you."

"I'm gonna make you rest either way, dipshit," Eddie countered, "-You've been through every fucking timezone in America, your brain must be totally fucking fried."

"C'mon, Eds," Richie chimed, going into a cliché New Yorker accent, "-ya gotta show me the city."

"The shitty city?" Eddie clarified, flatly, "-The one I hate?"

"It's New York," Richie laughed a little, "-There's gotta be something worthwhile."

"I know the shit you're trying to pull. You're not gonna change my mind, Richie," Eddie replied, pointedly, "-Even if you do all those hours today, when you get here, you're gonna fucking rest."

Richie paused, continuing hesitantly, "So, you're okay with me doing the long drive today?"

"You don't," Eddie paused, seeming a little too quiet and working himself up, "-You don't need my permission to do shit, I didn't mean to-"

"Eddie baby, stop," Richie soothed, immediately, "-It's not a permission thing. It's a 'for your well-being' thing. I don't want to do shit that will stress you out. I refuse to do shit that would make you feel scared when I can't 100% be there to fix it. Or at least fucking... help you through it."

"Really?" Eddie questioned, quietly.

"Of fucking course, Eds, I love the shit out of you," Richie laughed a little, "-and the idea of you being stressed the fuck out, alone, makes me want to bite my own fucking head off. So-"

Richie took a breath.

"-are you okay with me driving that long today?"

Eddie paused, before slowly saying, "You promise you'll stop driving if you need to?"

"Absolutely," Richie agreed, "-I'm not gonna push myself beyond my limits, Eddie baby. I promise."

There was a spare second of silence, and Richie started drumming his fingers along the wheel. It was the beat of 'Before He Cheats' (the song he was singing before). And his eyes remained squarely on the road -straightforward and focused.

"Okay," Eddie sighed out, "-Okay, yeah, you can drive 9 hours. That's... I'll be okay."

"Yeah?" Richie asked, genuinely.

"Yeah, Rich," Eddie laughed a little, "-Just make sure to eat and drink properly, and maybe hit the rest areas so you can stretch out your freakishly fucking long legs-"

"Can't call 'em freaks, if that's how ya like 'em," Richie interrupted with a Southern accent, "-Mr. 'my type is tall idiots'."

"I was hitting on you, moron," Eddie huffed out, "-You're my first boyfriend. I don't even know if I have a type."

"Yeah, I kinda figured," Richie laughed a little, "-That text drove me fucking crazy for weeks."

"Yeah, well," Eddie cleared his throat, "-fucking imagine what I felt when you told me your type."

Richie paused. ("But yeah, Spaghetti, teeny little brunettes who are mean to me.")

"Wait," Richie started, "-you... I, your celebrity crush, described you, a teeny little brunette who is mean to me, as my type. And you... what?"

Eddie didn't say anything for a second.

"Don't make fun of me. Or else I'll kick your ass."

"Roger that, Spaghetti," Richie echoed in a growly voice (like it was coming out of a walkie-talkie), "-please proceed."

"I... Ugh," Eddie exhaled like the words hurt to say, "-I threw my phone across the room. It cracked my whole fucking screen-"

"You what?" Richie interjected.

"It's just-" Eddie started to explain, increasingly flustered, "-You were... you. And I was, I was the exact description. And it hit me for a second that, you know, you were kinda tangible. That, with like... the right fucking circumstances, I could have you. Easy."

Richie blinked, before sputtering, "You could. You did. You do, you do have me now."

"Well," Eddie paused, smiling (Richie could hear the cheesy grin), "-I guess I got the right fucking circumstances."

"The best ones," Richie chimed, heart rattling in his ribs (Eddie, Eddie, Eddie), "-maybe."

"Yeah, shithead," Eddie replied, "-the best ones."

#reddie #watchoutwriting #reddie fanfiction #reddie fic #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it chapter 2 #it chapter one #reddie fluff #the losers club #streamer au #achievement unlocked 🔓

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