#the two idiots and their random musings

[mischievous-thunder]

Bonus:

[ravstars]

Bad date (ᗒ⩊ᗕ)

⌇Wanderer/ Scaramouche x Reader.ᐟ

જ⁀➴Smut: Your usually stoic and ignorant college roommate seems abnormaly engrossed in the date you had planned with a mutual friend, insisting on giving you advice on how to dress, etc. When you come back that same evening, all pouty and disappointed, telling him about how bad it had went, he can't help but show you what you're missing out on with him.

a/n: Careful, this is smut! If you do decide to read it, i hope you enjoy! This is AFAB and Scara does refer to the reader as a good girl. I am still kind of figuring this whole layout thing out as I go so I might change some stuff up sometimes. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ �� )⸝♡

Scaramouche was very annoyed.

As if you weren't insuffrable enough, having a date with some imbecile, who you both knew from some party you forced him to go a few months back, made you even more intolerable than before. Why would you go out on a date with some ugly idiot anyway? He huffs, deciding to check in on your pathetic state of getting ready for an immature frat boy.

You were sitting down on the floor infront of your dresser, messily looking through every dress you had. Scara doesn't hesitate to put his hand on your head, making you flinch away and complain about ruining your hair.

''I don't understand what your issue is, just pick a random dress, why are you being so peculiar about this? It's quite frankly pitiful." He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as you don't even look at him once.

"The white one or this navy one?" You hold two options up, one navy denim dress and one classy white dress with intracate details. He looks at both and decides to indulge himself for this once. It's not like he gets to take you out anyway, so he might as well make you work for his opinion.

''Try both on.'' He simply states, his expression unreadable. You hesitate but agree nonetheless. Getting up with an exasperated sigh and kicking him out until you try the first dress on. You decide to indulge him and show him the first dress — the navy one. You step out of your room, spinning for your roommate, waiting for a reaction.

“Well?”

“It kinda makes you look weird.” He says, suppressing a smirk. You looked ravishing in his truthful opinion, yet he would never admit that.

You huff, wordlessly turning back into your room and trying the other dress on. A pretty basic white dress, fitting for any occasion.

Stepping out once more you’re greeted with complete silence. You spin suspiciously, brows furrowed

“Wear the other one.” He simply says before turning on his feet and leaving you be.

Did this one look that bad? If only it did, Scaramouche thought.

Due to the uncertainty he had left behind, you do decide to wear the navy dress, getting ready as usual. Time had finally come and you couldn’t wait to meet your date, you couldn’t be blamed for being so excited, could you? You walk out that door and leave to the restaurant, Scaramouche unenthusiastic in his goodbyes, the only thing him having said to you being a mumble of ‘…you better stay safe… I don’t want to be responsible for anything later’.

Apropos later… well, it wasn’t an ideal date.

“Look, I arrived there and, first of, he was 10 minutes late. It’s not like that’s a big deal in itself but considering how he didn’t have any manners, it just adds to everything. He kept asking invasive questions and even asked me if I was interested in sleeping with him 30 minutes in. Who does that?” You groan, taking another sip of your energy drink, now a few hours later and at home again, in a big T-shirt as you vented to Scaramouche, who hadn’t said a word the entire time.

“It was horrible, Scara. Why do all the men interested in me have to be such douchebags?”

“Hm,” He mused, the corners of his lips twitching upwards, “Maybe because you’re the one choosing those idiots.” He was a selfish man, he knew that, especially when he felt great gratification when he found out your date had gone terribly. He only offered an energy drink in consolation and an ear, though, he was just an actor like that.

“Oh, and where are those non-douchebags I’m supposedly not choosing then?” You sigh, putting the drink down

“Tch. Dumbass, right here.”

“Huh?”

You turn to him, seeing him with a determined look, his eyes seeking out yours.

“You heard me.” He simply says, as if challenging you to make sense of what he’s telling you.

“Stop saying things like that, Scara…” you grumble, looking down.

“And what if I don’t, hm?”

You feel both of his arms encasing your body, having semi-crawled on top of you. You look up and your noses almost touch as you do. He looks different to you from this angle and you see the faint blush on his cheeks. You look into his eyes and he meets yours the same way. It’s as if he’s asking for permission as he bumps his nose against yours, your lips gaping in silent consent. His eyes flicker down to your lips before he closes them and finally leans in.

His lips press softly against yours, testing the waters with how far you’re willing to take it tonight. As you make no move to pull away he lets his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, asking for permission to enter your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours in a passionate dance of growing arousal. His hands have found their way to your waist, his nails softly digging into the soft skin of your sides.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.” He purrs out, breaking the kiss to look at your flushed expression

“Watching you go out with these weird, undeserving dimwits…” He kisses along your jaw before trailing gently down your neck. You can’t help the sound at the back of your throat when he sucks particularly hard at one spot on your neck. He chuckles under his breath before continuing his work on you. His hands trail down to your thighs and squeeze gently, parting them slowly settling in between

“Are you sure about this, Scara?” You ask, looking up at him from underneath. His lips are shiny, as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, tasting your saliva on them, so sweet, he thinks to himself.

“Are you sure about this, princess?” He answers with a question back, eyeing your expression with smug curiosity, making you gulp. You have never been this close to him before, what did you even feel for him in the first place? All you knew was you wanted him and you craved his touch deeply.

“I am, I want this.” You reassure shyly, earning a light chuckle from the man above you.

He responds by pressing his lips against yours again, this time more powerful, grinding up against you slowly. He hums at your reciprocation, your hands flat against his chest.

“Mm, may I?” He mumbles into your mouth, hands itching up to play with the hem of your oversized T-shirt. You hum, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. He dares to slip his hand under your shirt for the first time, losing his mind at the feel of your skin. You were always perfect to him, there was no doubt, but right now - this has to be his favorite way of seeing you. He feels you up, hands roaming your hips, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of your underwear on your hip.

“So perfect… haah…” He pulls away with a gasp, his free hand on your jaw “You’re so perfect.”

You can’t comprehend what’s happening, the words coming out of his mouth. He hooks his two fingers under the fabric, startling you. He waits for you to adjust before tugging the fabric down your thighs.

“I can’t wait anymore.” He admits and you nod, closing your eyes. “No, no, look at me, open those eyes, keep your pretty eyes on me.”

Pushing up your shirt he feasts upon your anatomy, kissing and tasting your warm and flushed skin. He groans, growing needy at your gasps and moans.

His fingers find your cunt, gently rubbing your clit, as he relishes in the noises you make, squirming against him.

“I can feel you getting wetter and wetter, hm?” He’s breathless, trying to appear calm and collected, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“It’s unfair…” you start, making him stutter in his movements “You have to take your clothes off too.” He chuckles at your complaint, taking his hands off you momentarily to pull his shirt off. Your hands find his bare skin, smoothing over him, over anything you could see - beauty marks, scars, anything and he swears he could die, drowning in your touch, in your attention, in your love.

You begin to feel your core aching, longing for something of him, a fragment, a piece, anything you could get.

“Please,” you urge and he immediately knows what you want. So he enters one finger into you and opens you up, preparing you gently. Your eyes flutter shut in response, squeezing closed.

His eyes are trained on you, watching every reaction and every expression you made. He leans down to kiss the spot under your ear, feeling you shudder against him.

“Can I put in another one?” He asks, feeling that you were ready for it. He doesn’t hesitate when you nod, groaning as he feels you around his fingers.He grows impatient soon, pulling his fingers out of you just as you were about to cum, making you whine at the loss of contact.

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, working on unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his knees. Your eyes fixate on him, straining painfully.

“Are you okay?” He makes sure one last time, as he tugs down his boxers and you can barely nod, not trusting your voice.

“Ah, shit,” he lubes his cock up with your juices, grinding up and down your folds for as long as he can take.

“Put it in, please,” You force out, hands reaching out for his own. As he intertwines your hands he pushes his tip in, both of you panting in pleasure and maybe overwhelming emotions. He bottoms out quickly, leaning down to be close to you, yearning for more and more and more of you.

Whimpering, he starts to set a pace fitting both of you. He’s never felt so vulnerable before. Being so intimate with you, of all people, it made his heart ache. He liked you - No, he loved you, but he could only express that through his actions right now. He starts to go faster, hitting that spot in you making you roll your eyes.

“Oh, good girl, such a good girl- ah,” he kissed you desperately, the pleasure burning in his veins. He felt so good, it was all he could think about. The feeling of you, hot and a mess under him, was pushing him further and further to the peak of pleasure already.

“I’m close,” he pants, “are you close?”

“Mhm, I’m so close…” you hold onto him tighter, feeling each other.

His hold on you suddenly tightens before his hips stutter against yours, burying himself to the hilt as the pleasure takes over both of you, your orgasm hitting you right where you needed.

“Fuck,” he heaves, eyes searching yours, “are you okay?”

“Ye- hahh, yeah, are you?” your pupils dilate, your body shaking

“Yes, yes, I’m…” he trails off, slumping against you. Mind too dazed for anything else, you close your eyes, letting the exhaustion catch up to you.

You wake up the next day that Saturday, surprisingly in your bed, in fresh clothes and unsurprisingly sore. You sit up in bed, recalling the previous night when you hear a knock on your door.

“Yeah?”

“I made breakfast, get up, sleepyhead.” Scaramouche opens the door, and his eyes soften seeing you in bed

“You good?”

“I’m sore, you dumbass.” You groan with a smile

“You weren’t complaining yesterday.” He scoffs, walking into your room and pulling you up, helping you

“Don’t be so dramatic, my god.” you both laugh, and you hit his shoulder, making him scowl playfully.

[withleeknow]

how he would take care of you during shark week. ⤷ chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

pairing: jisung x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, mentions of periods bc duhhh erhm note: ok so i'm REALLY not sure what this is lmao but i switched up entirely compared to the first installation (with minho) and i think this is the format i'll be sticking with for the rest of the members. i'm still just experimenting and trying to figure how i want to approach doing drabbles/drabble series like this so pls bear with me a little for now lol

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

main masterlist / blurb masterlist / ko-fi

jisung, who can't be trusted with even the simplest of tasks. you should've known better. (and honestly? you did know better, which probably makes the whole thing so much worse.)

jisung, whom you ask to run to the store just because you were too lazy to brave the evening chill yourself and get the shit you need.

jisung, who texts you what size pussy u wear? while he stands in the middle of the aisle, feeling like he's illiterate as he's surrounded by products of different colors and shapes and sizes and wings.

jisung, whose eyes catch a specific pink packaging with pretty flowers that makes him pull out his phone and snap you a picture. this one looks better. yours is boring, he'd text you, to which you'd replied with a dozen question marks before calling him an idiot and telling him to leave the fancy pads and hurry home with the ones you usually use.

jisung, who returns about thirty minutes later holding two large bags in his hands, which definitely contain a lot more than what you had sent him out for - just a pack of overnight pads and some sweets.

jisung, who kisses you in greeting as your eyes narrow suspiciously, then he'd proudly show off the goodies that you didn't need - an assortment of sour candies and chocolates, chips, ice cream bars, your favorite cookies, and lastly, a random purple pouch.

jisung, whose love language looks a lot like making you get diabetes whenever your time of the month rolls around.

jisung, who beams like a kid in a candy store when you ask him about the pouch with a brow raised. "look!" he'd beam, holding the little thing up like it's the most magical invention he's ever come across in his entire life. "it holds your pads! and it has unicorns on it!"

jisung, who doesn't deflate at all when you tell him that you already have one, but instead, he'd tell you to ditch the one you have because it's too "boring" (re: it doesn't have unicorns.)

jisung, who volunteers to carry the pouch for you the next time you go out together, musing to himself about whether or not he should add a little strap so he could wear it like a crossbody bag, not even batting an eye when you stare at him and gape in disbelief.

jisung, who really uses your shark week as an excuse to buy dumb shit for himself and stuff you full of treats.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 25.04.2024]

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! || Ch.3 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, fluff, 2000 rom com vibes, making out, flirting. drinking, swearing, crying, sweet pining Jungkook, Jungkooks past comes up (boooooo), ex situationship thingsss, its a sweet chapter and they make out and I love it, legit the easiest chapter I have written so far ❥word-count: 10.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Day 3

“And you really believe this guy is going to work for this?” Yoongi said, looking over your notes and layout of the entire plan you had.

“Absolutely sir.” You nod. 

It was the Tuesday following you and Jungkook’s date. You two had gotten some dinner and then you went home. You tried not to let that text ruin your mood but it did bring you down for the meal. You and Jungkook just talked more about what you do and things you liked. Just easy conversation and sharing social media, small things that you could mask your disappointment with and give cheerful and in depth answers too. 

That text sucked to see. It sucked to see that he made this promise to be serious but he was just playing you.To be fair, you didn’t know him. It was your first date and he didn’t owe you anything. It would just make this easier. 

"Already past the first date. You’re jumping in head first," Yoongi mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So, what’s next?"

"The plan is to keep things moving. I only have thirty days, so I wanted to start strong. The first date was just to break the ice. Now, I'm aiming to stay in touch throughout the weeks—get more annoying to make sure I stay on his radar." 

Yoongi chuckled. "And what does annoying entail in this case?"

You grinned, feeling a mischievous spark. "I was thinking some things like being a little too clingy. Getting a bit too personal too soon. Social media stalking, maybe even acting overly sensitive to anything he says about 'dating' or 'us.' Just... trying to inch my way into his daily life, so he can’t quite shake me off. Then next week I will take things to the next step."

Yoongi nodded in approval. "I like it. Thorough and unexpected, just what we want. Let’s round back around next week and check-in. We’ll go over your progress and adjust as needed. You’re off to a good start."

You gave him a grateful nod. "Thank you, sir."

With a wave of his hand, “Now go write, be amazing.” Yoongi dismissed you, and you returned to your desk, your mind already spinning with ideas. You were ready to dive into this full force, but there was one small snag, a small but persistent worry. You’d sent Jungkook a quick text yesterday, just a light “good morning” and a note about enjoying the date, but there hadn’t been a reply yet.

It wasn’t a big deal but already not responding to a text after a whole day was not sitting well with you.

Settling yourself down into your chair, that small disappointment from seeing that text on Jungkook's phone was still nagging at you. Your friends had warned you not to get attached, to keep things light, but you’d ignored them. They called this from a million miles away and you, like an idiot, let your guard down like always. 

Well, not this time. This was just a job. No more emotional slip-ups. 

“Damn it, I’m a writer,” you muttered under your breath. “This is just research. He’s just a random guy.”

With renewed determination, you opened your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as you drafted the first section of your article. Reliving the details of your first date, you kept it light and short because this wasn’t about how the first date went great, it’ll be about everything that happens now. You had your plan ready for action.

You were finally hitting a flow, words forming exactly as you wanted, when you heard footsteps stop just outside your cubicle. 

“Special delivery!” Ann, one of the front-desk clerks, appeared with a bright smile, holding a small bouquet. "Someone’s got an admirer!"

She set down a small bouquet of sunflowers. The choice of flower surprised you most of all, you loved sunflowers. They were tied together with a with a purple ribbon and card attached to the end. Opening it, “A little bit of sun for a rainy first date. Thank you for listening to my fish facts. JK.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Ann cooed, lingering a moment to admire the flowers. She shot you a grin before heading back to the front, and you tried to keep your reaction composed.

You couldn't help but feel that small spark of joy, despite yourself, as you read the card. The sunflowers, your favorite, were unexpected and so charming. Tied with a cute ribbon that added a touch of thoughtfulness. You’d never been given flowers by anyone other than your parents and that one college boyfriend. Yet here they were, sent to your office, just for you.

If this had been any other situation, you’d probably be blushing and grinning like an idiot, falling head over heels way too fast. But the reminder of what you knew—what he was likely doing, the kind of guy he really was—kept you grounded. 

As you stared at the bouquet, lost in thought, the telltale squeak of a chair wheeling over caught your attention.

“Wow someone’s special.” Ronnie rolled right next to you. “Are those from who I think they are from?” 

 "Looks like it," You replied casually, flashing her the card. "Just… a little thank you gift."

Ronnie waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, just a thank you gift? The guy sent you your favorite flowers, after only one date. You sure you aren’t already planning your future house decor with him?"

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your laptop, brushing off the teasing. "Maybe," But the flicker of disappointment crept back in. "If he hadn't got that text on our date. Then maybe this would be a sweet gesture. There's no way I'm getting attached to someone who’s probably chatting up another girl at the same time."

Ronnie gave you a skeptical look. "You still haven’t told me what it said, just that you went from mildly hopeful to permanently sour about him. Especially after you begged me and Jin to let you pick another guy before the date even ended."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "It was… friendly, if you know what I mean."

“Oh, friendly friendly?” she echoed, her voice heavy with implication. She winced sympathetically. "I’m sorry."

You shook your head, swiveling to face her. "No, no. We’re not doing the whole pity party thing. No look at Y/N she got fooled by another asshole again. This is work.  I knew what I was signing up for with this guy, and it’s why I chose him. I can handle it."

Ronnie raised her brows. "Yeah, sure. You sound totally fine."

“I am fine,” you insisted, forcing a smile. “It’s all part of the assignment, right? A totally detached, unbiased observation. Think of me as an objective researcher.”

“Okay Dr. Detachment. How are you going to respond to these?” Ronnie glanced down to the flowers and then back up to you. 

You opened your mouth to answer but paused, glancing at the flowers. You already knew what you wanted to do, but still… you weren’t quite sure how to play it yet. 

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook was still buzzing from his own bold move. He and Hoseok were walking down the street on their lunch break, and Hoseok eyed him suspiciously. Jungkook filled him on the details with a little too much spring in his step, never the way Hoseok had ever seen Jungkook act after a date. 

“So… the date went that well, huh?” Hoseok finally asked, giving Jungkook a smirk. “You’re practically skipping.”

“Hey, I am not,” Jungkook grumbled, trying to keep his voice casual as he filled Hoseok in on the date. It had gone smoother than he’d expected, and he couldn’t ignore that spark of excitement. 

Jungkook had done a little social media stalking when he spent the day with his parents yesterday. You used a sunflower in your bio and in a lot of your posts, so he took a guess that they may have been your favorite flower. It did take him a little tracking down though, since sunflowers were going out of season. 

Hoseok grinned, giving Jungkook an approving nod. “So… flowers and a corny note? You’re going for gold.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook replied, a proud glint in his eyes. “I’m hoping she liked it. She’s into romantic movies and such so I thought it would be a good gesture.” Plus it was a perfect opening note since sending flowers is another classic romantic movie troup. “She should have gotten them by now.” He checked his phone yet again, his screen still frustratingly blank.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow to him, “Does it bother you that she’s not immediately giving you all of her attention.” 

Jungkook snorted, “No.” He paused but the silence between them hung a little too long for Hoseok to be convinced, “Okay maybe a little.” 

Hoseok let out a laugh, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Wow. Didn’t know you were secretly a heartthrob under all that cool indifference. Who are you, and what did you do with Jungkook?"

“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered, fighting a smile as he looked away. “I’m just… giving this a real shot.”

“And you’re stressing out over whether she liked your flowers or not,” Hoseok added, raising an eyebrow. “Must be a real first for you.”

Jungkook shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought I’d make an effort, alright? ” He glanced at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Why do I feel like the grand romantic gesture wasn’t entirely about the bet?” Hoseok chuckled, giving him a playful nudge.

“It’s not because I’m actually dating her remember?” Jungkook replied, a little too quickly, then caught himself. 

“You know,” Hoseok said, tilting his head, “there’s no law that says you can’t text her first, right? Might even make you seem… interested.”

Jungkook scoffed, his gaze glued to the sidewalk. “I don’t want to look desperate.”

“Dude, come on. Desperate is sending $50 sunflowers in November,” Hoseok replied, laughing as Jungkook scowled.

Jungkook sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I just really enjoyed spending time with her. It’s different.”

“So shoot her a text, lover boy,” Hoseok urged, hit Jungkook lightly on the back of the head. “All the smooth moves in the world won’t matter if she doesn’t know you’re into her.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed just as Hoseok delivered his advice, catching him off guard. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen. His eyes lit up, and a grin broke across his face—so wide and boyish that it almost unnerved Hoseok.

“Speak of the devil,” Jungkook muttered, barely containing his excitement.

“Well answer it.” He shoves his shoulder.

 Jungkook fumbles with his phone and steps off to the side to answer, “You’ve reached Sunflowers on the Go. How may I be of service?” 

You humm on the other end of the line in amusement, “So it’s the strangest thing. I got this delivery of sunflowers here on my desk but I don’t remember placing an order.” 

“Hmm, strange indeed,” Jungkook replied, grinning. “Turns out we only deliver to Composure magazine. No one else.”

What Jungkook wasn't aware of is you had him on speaker phone so Ronnie was also able to hear him. She brought her hand to her face at his cheesy responses. You also shook your head at absurdity. 

“Oh, is that so?” you teased. “Well, there was a little card attached… signed by someone named ‘JK.’”

“Yep, that’s the guy. Don’t know him personally, but he seems pretty cool,” Jungkook said, leaning into the joke. Looking over at Hoseok who was drawing hearts in the air around Jungkook, Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

“Hmmm, I don’t know anyone named ‘JK’. Guess I’ll just have to throw these away then.” You play with the ribbon in your fingers.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! That’s mean!” He protested, laughing. You laughed as well at his protest.

“Okay but seriously how did you know these were my favorite?” You touch one of the petals, sunflowers were definitely out of season so he had to go to some work to find really fresh ones. “Or was it just a lucky guess?”

“I may or may not have noticed a pattern on your socials.” His tone was sheepish and you just shook your head.

“Ah, so you were stalking me.” You nod, you notice Ronnie roll on over back to her desk. Coming back with her phone in hand. She was typing frantically.

“Maybe a little bit.” Jungkook let a beat pass, “I guess more importantly do you like them?” 

“They are very beautiful. Especially for this time of year.” You sigh, the gesture really was sweet. Might be fast for Jungkook to send flowers this early on but still sweet.

Jungkook let out a sigh he han’t realized he had even been holding in, “I do have to confess something. I was hoping this would make an opening for me to invite you to dinner.” He shifted from side to side, “Well I would be making dinner.”

“Inviting me over? Wow, bold move. So soon.” You smile, Ronnie giving you a knowing look and you brushing her off. “Would I have to do anything?”

“I will take care of it all, I need to or ove I can make a mean carbonara,” Hoseok gave Jungkook a look like he had no idea he had any cooking skill. “How about tonight?”

“I have plans tonight.” Which wasn’t a lie, you were going to work on some writing tonight. “How about Thursday?” 

“Perfect. You’re gonna be impressed, I already know it.” Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I’m sure I will.” 

With some goodbyes you both hung up the phone. You could suddenly feel your heart racing in your chest and you mentally scolded yourself. You needed to remember none of this was long term. Which Ronnie was taking the lead in reminding you about.

“For someone who claims to be totally normal about all of this, you sure are smitten.” She crossed her arms and eyebrow raised observing you, “He totally knew these would work on you.” 

“I am totally normal about all of this. This is perfect, we are going on a second date and I get to start implementing my plan. Everything is on track.” You say but ash is looking back to her phone, “What are you looking at?”

“I’m trying to find his instagram.” She continued typing, not looking back up to you. 

“Oh he doesn’t have one.” You remembered from dinner on Sunday. It wasn’t abnormal for someone to not have one but Ronnie was surprised. 

“Boo, how am I supposed to dig up dirt on him?” Ash slumped down into her chair. You had actually done a little digging of your own the evening before though. 

“Pretty sure that’s my job and I already did. He has twitter but he doesn’t post often. He keeps a pretty low presence online so I wasn’t able to learn much that way.” You sigh, it was actually a little refreshing although it did leave you guessing. Makes it tough to be intrusive in the next steps of your plan. “By the way, can you cry on command?”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow at your request, “I don’t but I think we both know who might.” 

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。• *₊

Day 5

Thursday arrived, you and Jungkook spent the entire day texting back and forth just talking about whatever came to your minds. You found any excuse to ask him any random question. Send him random things you genuinely thought were funny. He also had something funny to say back or respond with. So you just let that be it, just texting and talking as much as possible. 

Jungkook had spent the night before doing a practice carbonara. Watching some guy on youtube walking him through the steps. It turned out pretty good but he knew he could make a better one tonight. He got really nice ingredients that hopefully would push it over the edge. He really wanted to make a good first impression with his cooking. He had no issue inviting you over so soon after knowing you, he felt really comfortable with you already. 

He hoped it wasn’t too forward, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

He had a bottle of mid tier white wine in his fridge and he also got a red because he wasn’t sure what you would prefer. He also wasn't sure what would pair better with a carbonara. Jungkook dressed his table up all nice, it was nothing special but a candle classes it up a little bit. Classic romantic things. It felt somewhat awkward and made him cringe but also no one else was around to see his effort but you, and you would appreciate it. 

Or at least he hoped you would. 

He then heard a knock from his front door. He thought it was a little early for you to be here but he didn’t mind, he still was making the food and he could pour you a glass while you waited. He trotted to his door, a wide grin on his face as he swung the door open with some gusto, only to have his features fall. 

“Channel?”Jungkook's face twisted into a confused but unamused expression, as she brushed past him into the apartment. “Please, come on in.” He said, his voice clearly sarcastic.

Channel looked like she was dressed for a night out and not for a very cold November evening at that. She had her hair curled and bouncy like it usually was, and the highest heel she could comfortably wear, clicking her way around Jungkook's apartment.

“I want my scarf back,” She had her arms crossed, strolling into the apartment with ease. She had been here enough times to know where everything was. “and since you won’t respond to my calls, here I am in person.”

“Okay, you couldn’t have texted me about this?” Jungkook let his front door close and followed after her through his apartment, as she tried to look under things and around furniture. 

She laughed bitterly, “Last I checked, you’ve been avoiding my texts as well.” She continued her hunt around his space. Jungkook getting a little peeved since he spent a good amount of time trying to make his space look good for your arrival. Your arrival which would be really soon and this was not a good look for a guy as you clocked as ‘unserious’.

"I kind of have a life, you know? I can’t answer every text you send.” Jungkook kept his eyes peeled for the scarf, more than ready for this encounter to end.

“Yeah, right.” Channel’s voice dripped with disbelief as she followed him further into the apartment, her arms crossed. “I could tell Hoseok was covering for you.” She paused mid-sentence, catching sight of the dining table set for two, a soft candle flickering in the center. Her expression turned suspicious. “And… what is that?”

Jungkook looked back to the table and then back to her, acting like it’s always looked like that. “Nothing, now where is that scarf?”

“Your place is so… spotless,” she murmured, her eyes scanning every corner of his living room, taking in the lit lamps, the neatly arranged coffee table, and the faint smell of food coming from the kitchen. “Setting a mood, are we?”

“I mean, I clean often. I’m not a slob,” he replied defensively, trying to wave off her assumptions, though he could see she was putting it all together, one detail at a time.

Channel sniffs the air for a moment and then stalks over to the kitchen, “You’re cooking? You don’t cook.”

“Whenever he hung out, cooking really wasn’t a part of the schedule.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, aware that he was pushing her buttons. “I cook all the time.” 

“Oh, I see,” She replied, her tone flat but her eyes flashing. She tilted her head, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. “So, who is she, then?” 

Jungkook sighed, not fighting her anymore, “no one, and she is coming over soon, let’s find your scarf so you can leave.” 

But Channel didn’t budge, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms tighter. 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not brushing this off like that. Nice napkins, a candle? You set a damn table, Jungkook. What is this, some kind of date?” Her voice grew sharper with each word, anger and betrayal clear in her expression.

“That’s not really your business is it?” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, he needed to get her out of here. 

Channel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not my business? You know what’s funny? All this time, I thought maybe we were building toward something real. And now, I see you’re doing that with someone else?” She scoffed, her face hardening. “What you just didn’t want this with me?”

Her words hung in the air, clear betrayal laced them. Him and Channel only had a sexual relationship, it’s what they agreed upon from the start. Sometime in there Channel developed some feelings for him and after a few months asked if they could take this more seriously. Jungkook wasn’t ready for that kind of step so they ended it all together. So now this all looks really bad. 

Except, he thought, it’s none of her business if he did change his mind. He never lied to her, and he was always very clear that he did not want a relationship. He really didn’t, and this thing with you, although a part of a bet, was something he was dipping his toes into. 

“Channel, that’s not it,” Jungkook said, sighing. “I never lied to you. I really didn’t want a relationship.” He hesitated, then finally admitted, “But I met someone, and…we’re trying things out and it’s brand new. So please leave.”

Channel’s face twisted in anger, her voice rising as she spat, “Oh, I get it.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking around his place with fresh resentment. “I bet you’ll dump her as soon as you’ve slept together a few more times. Because that’s what you do, Jungkook.”

He clenched his fists, frustrated but trying to stay calm. “You know, I’ve had enough of this,.” he said quietly, finally spotting the scarf stuffed into a seat cushion. He pulled it out, tossing it to her.

She caught it and threw it around her neck with a sneer. “So what is it about her, huh? What makes her so ‘special’ that suddenly you’re willing to commit?” She shot him a glare, stepping closer. “Maybe I should stick around and meet this one-of-a-kind woman. See what all the fuss is about.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her toward the door. “You’re leaving, now.”

She jerked away from his touch, folding her arms defiantly. “What? Is she coming soon?” Her eyes gleamed with spite. “You don’t want her to know what you’re really like?”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, gathering his patience. “No. I think she would be an adult and actually talk with me about it,” he replied, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. “And whatever she finds out—that’s for me to tell her and her to decide. So, goodnight, Channel.”

She stared at him, anger simmering as she pulled open the door, glancing back with an icy glare. “Screw you, Jungkook.” With that, she stormed out, letting the door slam behind her.

At the same time she opened the door you were stepping out of the elevator and onto Jungkook’s floor. You spotted a girl storming down the hallway after yelling inside a doorway, as she passed you muttering a quick “Excuse me” without a second glance. You had an uneasy feeling about her, especially as she walked away from the very apartment number Jungkook had given you. You double-checked, confirming the number on your phone with the one she had just exited, and the sinking feeling intensified.

“Jesus Jungkook. At least have some class and spread out your dates so we don’t bump into each other in the hall.” You whisper under your breath, but you still had to go through with this as if you didn’t immediately feel a sense of dread. 

You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. After all, you were here now, and nothing had technically happened to prove your suspicions. So you pushed them down, knocked on the door, and tried to keep your expression neutral, reminding yourself you were maybe a minute early—nothing too crazy.

The door opened after a brief pause, and Jungkook’s face shifted from guarded to bright relief when he saw you standing there. His lips curled into a wide, easy smile, like he was genuinely glad to see you. His hair was a little tousled, his shirt a snug, tucked into jeans that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean frame. He looked relaxed, casually put together, which was somehow infuriatingly charming.

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice warm, stepping aside so you could enter. “Come on in.”

“Hi,” you replied, acting as if nothing felt off. 

You stepped past him, letting your eyes flick around the apartment, taking in the details—the tidy coffee table, a low hum of music playing through the room. He had a nice living room set up around a TV on the wall, the dining setup with an actual candle in the center. He’d put thought into this, that much was obvious. You couldn’t deny it was sweet, even if it left you slightly off-balance, considering what you’d walked past in the hallway moments ago.

“Okay now looking at it now, the candle maybe was a little cheesy.” Jungkook cringed at himself looking at the little set up. You shake your head and wave him off. 

“No, I think it's adorable. You even got a scentless one so it doesn’t cover the smell of the food.” You take a seat at the table, “I’m prepared to be wow’d like you promised me.” 

“I unfortunately got a little bit delayed so I am not quite done yet.” Jungkook was shuffling his way back into the kitchen, “But make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” You smile as he rounds his way back into his kitchen, he watches you get back up and walk around his living space. Almost like he was waiting for approval. Luckily Channel hadn’t trashed the place. 

You took note of all of the little things he chose to have on display, some books, a few polaroid cameras and some polaroid's on the walls, as well as a record collection that lined the side of the living room on some shelves. You thumbed through some of them to see what was available. Impressed with some of his picks, some similar to your own. His place wasn’t terribly big. Classic little bachelor pad. You had noticed he had chosen to keep what you could only assume was his bedroom door closed. 

It was something Jungkook thought way too hard about, if he left it open was it like saying he wanted to sleep with you tonight? Would it be way too forward? Or was closing it just as weird? Was closing it like telling you that he didn’t really want you in his space? He went back and forth and then opted to close it to maybe say he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, although he wouldn’t mind if it did. 

You on the other hand didn’t barely give it a thought other than noticing it. You picked up one of his polaroid cameras and brought it with you. You round your way back to his kitchen and stand off to the side watching him work. He was pretty zoned in on what he was doing, everything was really smelling great. You usually found it pretty hot if a guy could cook well. 

Jungkook took an opportunity to try some of his work and you took a photo right at the moment he took a bite, his eyes widened right at the moment he realized he'd been caught.

The picture came out and you set it down to develop. 

“I’m sure that will be super cute.” You laugh, setting down his camera as well. He laughs and you look over his shoulder to see how close he is to being done.

“Coming to inspect my work?” Jungkook glances to his side, seeing you peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He was almost done cooking. 

“Maybe.” You tease, “I’m a sucker for people who can cook. I’m just… okay at it.” 

“Well,” Jungkook stops what he is doing and reaches for a drawer next to him pulling out a fork and twirling some of the noodles onto it. Then holding the fork out to you. “I’m ready for your final score.”

You paused. Debating if you should eat the food off the fork or if you should take the fork. Would it send the wrong message if you ate off it? Or was that exactly what he was doing? The fork wasn’t very close to your mouth but not crazy far. You decided to just take the fork from him and take the bite. 

It ended up being really good carbonara. 

“Oh my god.” You smile chewing, “it’s really fucking good. Ten out of ten.” 

Jungkook did a small fist pump to himself, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth hiding a smile. “I’ll admit, I did a practice run yesterday and it was just okay but I’m glad this one is good.” Jungkook then taking a bite of it himself with another fork. Jungkook upon tasting his own food smacking his own forehead and leaning back. 

Causing you to laugh at his dramatic reaction. 

You glanced at the polaroid on the counter picking it up to see if it had developed yet, it wasn’t fully done but you could see mostly what the picture would look like. You showed it to Jungkook and he smiled, “Ten out of ten picture. Best one of me yet.” 

You looked at it and he did look like a deer caught in the headlights but it was funny, you set it down. 

“I’ll admit I’m wowed, to be fair I’ve only had carbonara like one other time.” You lean against one of his kitchen counters watching him as he plates the pasta for the two of you.

“I’ll still take the high praise. Now, should we do a white or a red wine?” 

“Hmm, a red works better with this I think.” You nod. 

Jungkook tells you where you can find his bottle opener and some glasses. You managed to get the cork screw into the cork but seem to be lacking the ability to actually pull the cork out of the bottle. Jungkook finds some amusement in watching your struggle but you persist. You’ve opened plenty of wine bottles in the past, this shouldn’t be difficult. 

“Having some trouble?” Jungkook watched you try and fail to pull the cork out a third time.

“Absolutely not. The cork and I are just having a disagreement.” You shake off your hand a few times and then get a better grip on the screw pulling upward as best you can. With some pathetic struggle, you really swear you can feel the cork moving. You let out a sigh as you let it go again. 

“May I?” 

“I swear I’m not that weak.” This honestly was just embarrassing at this point, so much so you have to face away from Jungkook at your next attempt. 

You make one final grip on the corkscrew and twist and tug, finally the corkscrew and cork pop free. Not before your hand comes straight, hard and fast, into your own face.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook’s face changes as he sees you basically punch your own face. “Are you okay?” 

You did dizzy yourself slightly but you set the bottle down. Feeling your face, hoping you hadn’t broken your nose although it certainly would be bruised or sore at least, “Okay maybe I should never open wine ever again.” 

Your nose than began to pulse with pain, this definitely wasn’t a part of your plan for sure. you covered it with one of your hands but Jungkook pulled it away. “Here let me look at it.”

“Please tell me it’s not bleeding.” You groan, and Jungkook places his hands on both of your cheeks looking at it. You match his face and he looks genuinely concerned. 

“Well, I’m not a doctor but you’re still pretty cute.” He then smiles and rubs one of his thumbs on your cheek. “That’s my professional assessment anyways.”

“Okay, but it still really hurts,” You say, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. 

“Hey, it’s probably just a bit sore—no blood, no bruise.” He gently tilts your head from side to side in a silly, exaggerated inspection that makes you giggle. 

It’s quiet between you both for a moment, Jungkook still holding your face. He just looks over your face for a moment, your nose was red but it was probably going to be okay. He had hurt his own nose a few times to know if it was broken. 

Jungkook’s hands still on your cheeks, eyes meeting as he studies your face. It’s easy to get lost in the warmth of his gaze and how close he is. A little too easy. For a second, you find yourself softening, tempted by the thought of leaning in and just letting yourself enjoy this. But then, just in time, you snap back to reality, realizing you can use this little mishap to your advantage. This damage to your nose might have actually opened up a window for what you had been working yourself up too.

You pull your face away from Jungkook and shake your head, breathing in a heavy breath. Jungkook looked a little confused but then after a moment you were crying. You were crying? 

“Hey,” he placed a hand on your shoulder, “I was just teasing you.” 

You wave your hands in a frantic show, your voice cracking just a little. “No, no, it’s not you. It’s just….” You let out a little sob. “I’m just so clumsy! And you made this beautiful dinner, and I’ve totally ruined it!”

Jungkook looks utterly bewildered now, glancing around as if the answer to your sudden breakdown might be hiding in his kitchen cabinets. “Really, I promise, you didn’t mess anything up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, almost nervously.

“Ugh, I can't believe this. I’m totally ruining the mood.” You wipe your tears away. 

It was a good little performance. One that was planned.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。• *₊

The evening before.

Day 04

“The art of crying on command.” Here you were again. Ronnie sitting next to you. Jin pacing back and forth with his notepad once again. Unfortunately for you, Jin was the person to have expertise on this subject being an acting teacher. 

“Okay I already regret this.” You try to stand up but Ronnie pulls you back down onto Jin’s couch. 

“This will help you!” Ronnie protested and leaned on you once you were settled back in. “This can be a part of your over dramatic persona you use.” 

“Exactly! It gives you another tool in the toolbox for the charade you signed up for!” Jin pointed at you with his pen and waving it around. 

“Fine, continue.” You wave for him to go on and Jin grins. 

“Thank you! Now, there are three main techniques for crying on command,” he begins, pacing dramatically. “Some people can just…do it. They snap their fingers and—bam! Tears.” He snaps his fingers for effect. “Others need to go to a sad memory. Something personal and emotional, something that really tugs at the heartstrings. And then, of course, some people have to resort to…ahem, creative methods. Pepper in the sinuses, maybe a little poke to the eye…”

“Let’s please avoid self-injury,” you interrupt dryly, giving him a look.

“Fair enough. Let’s start with the basics and see if you’re a natural,” Jin says, jotting a note on his pad. “Close your eyes, focus, and let’s see if you can will the tears into existence.”

You sit up straight, trying your best to summon tears on command, forcing your eyes to feel…sad? Your face contorts into what you hope is a tearful expression, but as you blink, nothing happens. Your eyes are as dry as ever.

“Nothing?” Jin sighs and makes a dramatic strike-through on his notepad, looking deeply disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry,” You mutter. “Nothing.”

“Okay,��� Jin strikes something out on his notepad and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “Cannot cry on command. So let’s try a memory, or is there a movie scene you can’t think about because it gets you teared up?” 

You sit and think, you have some sad memories from your childhood that you bring to the front of your mind. Reminiscing on them, although some things are sad or bittersweet, nothing tear jerking. 

“Dry.” Ronnie leans over and looks closely in your eyes, so much so you have to shove her face away from you. 

“Dry.” Jin repeats and writes on his notepad. 

“Maybe try going to the dark place?” Ronnie snaps and looks at you. “You always get really teary eyed when you think about dying alone.”

“Okay rude.” You sigh, it wasn’t untrue. Whenever you came back from dates that were unsuccessful or you wasted your time on someone who just wanted something casual you found yourself going to, what you and Ronnie have deemed, the dark place. “I don’t like thinking about that.” 

“It’s for science!” Ronnie cheers, throwing her arms up like it's supposed to make it more fun or something. 

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch.  “I don’t know if this is such a great idea, honestly. When I start spiraling about my love life, it’s not exactly…mild.” You look down, already feeling a little prick of sadness starting to stir.

Jin comes and squats in front of you, “Well then just go to the edge of it and don’t think about the whole picture. What about dying alone usually gets you crying?” 

You think for a second, and finally, the words come out quietly. “I guess… I cry when I start thinking that maybe I won’t ever find someone who’s…just right for me.”

Ronnie lets out a soft “aww” and nudges you gently.

You let yourself feel it for a moment—the uncertainty, the nagging doubt that, maybe, you’ll keep hitting dead ends. And with that, you feel a familiar, bittersweet ache starting to well up.

Jin nods approvingly, seeing a slight glimmer in your eyes. “Excellent,” he says, jotting down, potential crying trigger identified.

The vulnerability hangs in the air, and you let yourself lean into it a little. Lately, it felt harder and harder to keep going on dates, to believe that love might work out someday. You always seemed to be either too much or not enough—loving too deeply, too slowly, too intensely. It left you feeling drained, to the point where dating felt less like romance and more like a chore.

But with Jungkook, for once, you’d felt...hopeful. Like there was someone who genuinely wanted to share a moment, who put effort into making sure you had a good time. As unintentional as it was, you’d started to feel a little spark, considering the circumstances of your forced meeting. But as soon as you’d started to believe it, you reminded yourself it was all part of the act. You couldn’t let yourself actually believe it. You got your hopes up again, and they were ripped out from under you… again. 

So you had slowly felt as time went on, you were losing sight of finding the one. 

Then without even realizing it, you had a few stray tears fall from your eyes. 

“Boom!” Jin erupted and sprang to his feet, “We have tears!”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。• *₊

You gripped onto that feeling you let it force a few more tears out of your eyes. Unfortunately you did not avoid the personal injury part of the tears. So this was going really well for you. 

You take a shaky breath, letting a few more tears roll down, making sure the sniffle that follows sounds especially pitiful. “Maybe I should just go home,” you say, voice wavering. “This along with my day… it’s all just been too much. You probably think I’m completely insane.”

You manage to start walking toward the door. Jungkook then panics for a moment, how did we go from laughing at you injuring your nose to crying and saying you’re going home? He felt like he had jumped three steps or something. You start toward the front door but Jungkook stepped around you, stopping you. 

“Wait what?” Jungkook looked confused, “How did we get here? I don’t want you to leave.”

You sniff even louder, adding just the right amount of snotty dramatics. “No, I should. You barely know me, and here I am—an emotional wreck in your kitchen. It’s… it’s too much.”

“And? You just hit yourself in the nose really hard. I would be a little embarrassed and want to leave too.” Jungkook places a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Besides isn't the whole point of going on dates to get to know each other better?”

“I guess.” You wipe your face again, “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to just… fall apart like this.”

Jungkook sighs a little relieved, that could have spiraled further. “And just so you know, I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Well it’s still early, haven’t had a chance to go full blown crazy yet.” Which gets a laugh out of both you and Jungkook. 

“Well I can deal with that I think.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Besides, food is still good. Wine is still out and last I checked a bruised nose doesn’t stop you from eating.” 

“Wait, is it actually bruising?” You reflexively go up to touch it, definitely tender to the touch and jungkook chuckles a little. 

“I’m teasing. It’s only a little red.” He takes your hand pulls you back into his apartment, with a little reluctance from you. “Stay, at least for a little while. I’m not going to let you walk out of here feeling like this.”

You blink up at him, playing up a hint of uncertainty, but inside, you’re genuinely a little taken aback. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He tilts his head to the side trying to meet your eyes, that had been darting everywhere else out of real embarrassment. “Look, I don’t care if you cry, I’m the biggest cry baby I know!”

You manage a small, hesitant smile, as if he’s starting to get through to you. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Jungkook scoffs, feigning insult. “Oh, don’t underestimate me. Those ‘lost puppy finds his way home’ commercials? I’m done. I’m over here pretending there’s dust in my eyes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe I believe you… just a little.”

“There we go!” He looks genuinely pleased, his expression softening as he sees you relax. “So, if I’m willing to admit my crybaby tendencies, it’s only fair you stick around for dinner, right?” He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of your answer. 

“Alright, I’ll stay.” You say it with an air of nonchalance, trying to mask the small spark of mischief hidden behind your agreement. It earns you a relieved, borderline triumphant smile from Jungkook.

“Phew! You’re sparing me from a whole night of wondering if my cooking scared you off for good.” He grins, his dramatic sigh punctuating his relief.

“Oh, please,” you say, rolling your eyes, feeling the perfect opening for a light jab. “If anything, the food is what convinced me to stay.”

Jungkook then serves dinner for the both of you. You both fall into easy conversation as you eat, he really did do a great job with the food. He was very considerate of making sure you needed anything else or pouring more wine when you wanted it. As well as making you laugh at almost every single turn. You really do get it why he got girls to go home with him so easily, between this and your first date the amount of confidence and charm that exudes from him is palpable in the air. 

Jungkook would never show it but his lack of practice with dating has actually made this date and your last the most nervous he as been in a while. Jungkook’s mind is racing, carefully cataloging every response you make, every laugh, every nod. He wants—needs—this to go well, not just because he’d prefer to win $300 rather than lose it, but because, in his gut, he actually likes seeing you here, across from him. He catches himself wondering if he’s oversharing when he starts a story, or if he’s going on too long when he recounts his last trip. When you laugh at one of his stupid jokes, he relaxes a bit, but he still can’t quite shake that uncertainty. 

You decided no more theatrics for the evening and let this play out naturally, how you would play out any other evening. Anything else would tip him off that maybe you were doing this on purpose. 

After a while the two of you had moved into the living room, you had been flipping through his records again, you didn’t take a chance to look at them all earlier. He had a decent collection for sure so you got a good sense of the type of music he liked. You both had a few glasses of wine now and so the conversation had turned more and more flirtatious. 

Noting the variety of music—jazz, a little classic rock, some alternative stuff. “You’ve got a good taste,” you say, glancing back at him. “This one,” you pull a record out with a slight smirk, “definitely says something about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, leaning on the side of his couch as he watches you move around his shelves. “And what exactly does it say?”

You tilt your head, pretending to give it serious thought. “That you’re trying really hard to be cool. Just edgy enough.”

He laughs, though you notice he flushes slightly, brushing off your joke with a casual shrug. “Hey, everyone needs a little mystery. Or at least…a halfway-decent record collection.”

“Is that what you’re hiding?” you tease. “A mysterious vinyl collection? Or is it just your immense amount of fish facts?”

“Well, you’ll have to stick around to find out.” The words slip out before he can stop them, and he immediately kicks himself. It feels too... eager, a bit too close to something genuine. But he manages to recover, putting on a self-assured smile. “Not everyone gets to see my hidden jazz albums.”

You laugh, setting the record back and looking at him with a raised brow. “Guess I’ll have to consider myself lucky, then.” Finding a spot back on the couch with him. 

Jungkook shifted in his spot so his body was completely facing you now. With the alcohol having set in, his eyes were a little droopy and he was smiling but he looked boyish. He found the more he was learning about you the more he felt fine with telling you things about himself. 

“You look tired.” You poke his forehead. “Maybe I really should go.” 

“It’s barely even late.” Jungkook takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m not tired at all.” 

“Your eyes tell a different story.” You laugh, leaning your head against the back of his couch. 

“Well what else are they saying?” He smirks, finding any reason to get a compliment from you. 

You stare at them for a minute, you were trying to come up with something clever. “Well if I am translating this right… I can’t handle my wine.”

You laugh and Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Wow how did you know?” 

“I have a thing for reading people.” You shrug. “What do mine say?”

He leans in really close looking between them. “Wow this guy is so hot and charming I really want to kiss him again,” Jungkook then gasps dramatically leaning away. “That’s scandalous, Y/N.”

“Shut up.” You laugh and get up from the couch trying to leave, Jungkook's hand pulling you back to standing in front of him. “You’re really full of yourself.”

“I’d like to think just a healthy amount.” He grins, Jungkook then places one of his hands on the back of your thigh. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver up your spine, but you do your best to keep your cool, not letting him see just how much his touch is affecting you.

You scoff with a half smile, “We’ll see about that.” 

Jungkooks grin widens sitting forward on his couch, both of his hands finding their way to your hips. Tracing small circles with his thumbs, making it impossible for you to think. The way he looks at you—intense, unflinching, like he’s trying to figure you out—has you second-guessing your plans  all over again, just for a second. This is what makes this hard, because the way he looks at you makes you believe every single word.

Many guys before have looked at you like this and you always fall for it, you always let yourself go for it. 

It’s a little difficult to remember that right now though, your mind clouded by the wine. 

You glance down to his lap for a moment then back up to his eyes that haven’t left yours. “Can I?” 

Jungkook just nods, allowing you to take your place on his lap. Lifting your legs to either side of his hips. Jungkook really was not intending for this night to go this way but he wasn’t complaining if it had. He found you incredibly hot and would do whatever you wanted. His hands stayed planted on your hips as you found what felt comfortable. 

“You’re pretty.” He smiles boyishly, he really did find you gorgeous and would tell you again and again if it wouldn’t be weird. The compliment makes you blush and hum. 

“You’re pretty too.” You lace your arms around his neck. Both of your faces coming so close together now. Breathes intermingling for a moment, asking the same question. “You were right though.” 

“About what?”

“I do want to kiss you again.” You catch the slight hitch in Jungkook's breath at your words, the way his fingers tighten on your hips, grounding you even as your heart races. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes, searching your face as though he’s almost afraid this moment might slip away.

“I’m not one to protest.” Jungkook swallows for a moment, before you took no time to close the distance between you. Pressing your lips against his soft but certain. Jungkook immediately responds tilting his head to deepen it. One of Jungkook's hands sliding up your back to bring you closer to him. The moment makes you forget everything else, as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink into it, into the surprising tenderness of his touch, the quiet intensity of his kiss. You move your hands to cup his face, relishing in how warm you are now. You felt your whole entire body heat up, and small wetness in between your legs. Oh this was not good, you cannot sleep with him this soon. 

Oh he probably knew exactly what he was doing though.

He would know exactly where to touch you and exactly how to make you moan and you had very little issues with wanting to let him do that. It would be so worth it, it would be so good. Except it cannot go past this, for your sanity at least. You needed to cut this off somehow, expect you kind of lead the night here. His tongue in your mouth was making it incredibly difficult to be logical. You could feel him probably already getting a semi and you really could not stop thinking about grinding on him. 

You needed to stop though. Because this is a great opportunity to drive in that wedge between the two of you. One more way to mess this situation ship up, but not ruin it completely.

As you pull away from him, leaving his lap, you mutter, “Okay… Goodnight.” You force yourself to stand, feigning nonchalance as you gather your things, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn back around. Jungkook is left blinking at you, visibly caught off guard, his hands awkwardly suspended in the air where your hips just were. He clears his throat, collecting himself as he scrambles to follow you.

Clearing his throat. “Hey… um woah… was that not good or whatever?” 

You pick up some of your stuff into you arm, “It was it was good. It was great.” 

Oh god it was great, he was a really good kisser and your whole body was screaming at you to go back but you fought through. 

Jungkook was confused by your answer and shook his head, as he continued to follow you, “Did… did I misread something? Because I was getting a vibe.”

You glance over your shoulder and manage to flash a casual smile. “No, you didn’t misread anything. I just… don’t usually sleep with someone on the second date. Kind of a rule.” You bite your lip, keeping the truth of it hidden.

“Oh.” Jungkook nods, a look of relief mixed with mild confusion crossing his face as he adjusts his shirt. “Right, totally. Cool cool cool. That’s more than okay and Makes sense, makes sense… you should have said something.”

“It’s a bit of a mood killer to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re not getting any,’ don’t you think?” You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

You gather your things, amused by his honesty, and start toward the door. Jungkook trails behind you, letting out a small puff of air as he stares at the floor. Then, after a beat, he glances up with a sly grin. “So… just out of curiosity, not trying to be weird or anything, but what date number are we talking here? Fourth, fifth…?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, knowing full well he has no idea you’re just messing with him. “Higher.”

He frowns, looking genuinely curious now. “Sixth?”

“Nope.”

“Seventh?” He leans in closer, eyes narrowed like he’s reading the answer off your face.

“Higher.”

“Okay, when do you usually?” 

You cross your arms, “Twelfth.” 

Jungkook’s face barely changes, but you can see his jaw tighten just a little as he processes this. “Twelve… dates,” he repeats slowly, nodding as if he’s mentally mapping it out. “I mean, sure. That’s totally reasonable. Not a problem.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised at his lack of pushback.

Yeah.” He shrugs, putting on a confident smile. “Guess I just have to plan ten more killer dates.”

“Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see them.” Jungkook then opens the front door for you. 

“You're going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?” He watches you slowly step out the door with a wide grin on your face. He finds it cute and playful, he could tell you liked the chase. 

“Goodnight Jungkook.” You say in a sing song voice, giving him a flirtatious wave as you walk up the hallway to his elevator. 

Before you could get too far Jungkook decided to leave with just one last thing. Trotting up the hallway so he could catch you, taking your wrist and stopping you. “One last thing.” 

Jungkook places a hand on your cheek and then kisses you. It surprises you but you welcome him, its one of those kisses that is so passionate and it makes your knees want to buckle out from under you in response. He uses just a little bit of  tongue to send a shiver through your whole body, his hand warm against your cheek as he continues to kiss you just long enough to make you lose track of the hallway, the elevator, and everything else. 

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are twinkling with that trademark cockiness, but there’s something softer underneath, something that makes your heart do an unwelcome little flip. He grins, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer before letting go. “Goodnight.”

He goes back into his apartment as you retreat to the elevator. As you ride down, you let out a shaky breath, trying to process what just happened, and trying even harder to remind yourself why you’re supposed to be making him miserable. But as your lips still tingle from his kiss, you’re the one who is being thrown off balance now. This was continuing to prove to be difficult.

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Day 6

Jungkook is floating on air as he gets through his next work day. So much so Hoseok has taken notice of Jungkook's change in attitude. Really his whole attitude had been different all week. Not that he was particularly grumpy before or even usually in a bad mood, but he was in a good mood. 

It was Friday night, and the familiar hum of the weekend buzzed in the air as Jimin and Taehyung once again convinced Jungkook and Hoseok to come out for a night of fun. Jungkook had been hesitant, his thoughts lingering on you. He’d been so busy lately, and while the dates had been great, there was something about tonight that made him want to see what plans you had before fully committing to the night out. But eventually, he decided he should just go—time with his friends, after all, was good too. Plus, there was that whole bet to think about, and he had a chance to subtly show Jimin and Taehyung how smoothly things were going with you.

When Jungkook and Hoseok arrived at the booth, they were greeted with their usual boisterous energy. Taehyung raised his glass, grinning widely. “Look who it is!” he said, motioning to the empty seats. As they sat down, the drinks flowed easily, and the conversation began to buzz.

However, Jimin and Taehyung had something else on their minds—Jungkook’s unusually good mood. While their conversation about random topics picked up, they were both trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed in him.

“So,” Jimin leaned forward, his voice a bit more teasing than usual, “what’s going on with you tonight? You’ve been, like, way too chill. It’s freaking me out.”

Jungkook paused for a moment, a little taken aback by the sudden observation. “What do you mean?”

Jimin gestured at him with a mock-serious face, “You're usually the one trying to take the night to the next level. Trying to make things more interesting. Tonight, you're just sitting here, all calm, looking like you’re, I don’t know, at peace or something?”

Taehyung chuckled at the thought, leaning in with a grin. “Yeah, what happened to the Jungkook who was out here doing whatever it took to keep things fun and exciting? You usually make sure the whole night has a direction. Right now, you’re, like... engaged in our conversation about cyber-security. That’s... not you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but he could feel the pressure mounting. He knew his friends had caught on to something, but they didn’t know why he was acting different. “I’m just… having a good day,” he said, his voice light and casual. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Hoseok snorted next to him and Jungkook gave him a side eye. 

“You definitely would have gotten someone’s number by now but your eyes have been glued on us or on your phone this whole time.” Taehyung added on, which was usually true but Jungkook was glued to his phone. Hoping maybe he would see another text from you, secretly. Casually, in a totally normal way. 

“So what gives?” Jimin pokes Jungkook in the arm. 

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook shrugged and took a sip of his drink. 

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “It’s Y/N. The girl you set him up with for this stupid bet.” 

“Oh.” It all clicked into place for the both of them but it was still weird, “She totally see through your act yet?” 

Jungkook was caught off guard, the question cutting deeper than he expected. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Actually,” he began, his voice softening, “no. We had a really nice date last night. There is nothing to see through, I’ve been completely genuine.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin raised a skeptical eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

Hoseok, who had been mostly observing, finally chimed in with a sigh. “He’s been in such a good mood about it all day, I’ve actually been avoiding him.”

Jungkook shot him a glare, nudging his arm. “So that’s why you were dodging me earlier?”

Hoseok shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry, man, I just couldn’t listen to you go on about Y/N again today.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing back at Jimin and Taehyung. “You guys are acting like it’s such a big deal. It’s just… going well.”

Taehyung raised a skeptical brow, his tone a bit annoyed. “So, you’re hitting it off?”

Jungkook smirked, raising his glass. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

That earned a laugh from Jimin and Taehyung. “Yeah, right.” Jimin scoffed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying,” Jungkook replied, his smirk widening, “is you two better get your wallets ready. In 24 days, you’re going to owe me big time.”

With a final grin, Jungkook set his glass down and excused himself, heading off to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jimin leaned closer to Hoseok, lowering his voice. “Okay, is it actually going well, or is he just messing with us?”

Hoseok took a sip of his drink, letting the suspense hang in the air for a moment before answering. “All I’ll say is… he sent flowers.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, and Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Flowers?” They exchanged looks of disbelief, struggling to picture Jungkook—who hadn’t done more than text after a night out for years—sending flowers.

“What kind?” Taehyung asked, still dubious. “If they were just roses, it might’ve been for show.”

Hoseok gave an exasperated look. “Sunflowers. They’re her favorite.”

Jimin blinked in disbelief, his jaw still halfway dropped as he processed Hoseok's words. “Sunflowers?” he repeated, as if the specific flower choice made it even more surreal. “You’re telling me Jungkook not only sent flowers but remembered her favorite kind?”

Hoseok nodded, his expression one of mild amusement. “It’s like he’s on some kind of mission. Didn’t even blink when he mentioned it either—used it as his way to get the second date they had this week.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I don’t know who this new Jungkook is, but he’s full of surprises. Sunflowers? That’s not just impressive; that’s borderline romantic.”

“Borderline?” Jimin laughed, still trying to wrap his head around it. “He’s gone full-on romance novel, and for someone he’s been seeing for, what, a week? This has to be the longest he’s been interested in anyone, like, ever.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, chewing on his lip as he processed the surprising information. “Damn. This is serious.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said with a small smile, finding some pride in a changed Jungkook. “So he’s not wrong when he says you guys are going to owe him. He’s actually putting in the effort.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look, stunned but slightly impressed. Watching Jungkook send flowers, remember favorites, and put his best foot forward was new—and honestly? They both knew they might just end up eating their own words. Which made them think, was there a way for them to slow this down, make it come to a halt?

It wasn’t an insane amount of money for either of them to lose, but it was much more entertaining to see Jungkook lose. Was there something they could do to mess this up but in a non asshole way?

If they didn’t, Jungkook was going to win the bet, but it had already become much more than a bet at this point for him.

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[mockerycrow]

I DON’T WANT THIS NIGHT TO END (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

roommate!gaz masterlist

summary; Kyle would do anything to relive these moments with you. 881 words.

authors note; this is EXTREMELY rusty writing in my opinion, but roommate!gaz deserves another chapter before i have to leave. i hope you guys enjoy anyway and let me know how this is. also, the car is not the convertible gaz owns!! i just needed a pic lmfao

[WARNINGS; fluff, pining, gaz is a half oblivious idiot, and a half “i don’t want to face my feelings like a man”.]

KYLE ADORES HIS convertible, but he certainly loves how you look in his convertible more. You’ve both fallen into an accidental routine of taking late night drives almost every night you’re together whilst he’s on leave. Sometimes, all you get as a warning that he’s home is when he sends you a text—sometimes you want to ask him if he even considers spending his leave anywhere else, but you’re not sure if you want to direct his attention away from you.

He knows his eyes should be glued to the road. Kyle knows the rules of the road intimately, especially due to his job and what he has to do—stuff you would consider reckless behavior. But may whoever is above forgive him for his eyes wandering because the big ol’ grin on your face with the wind rustling your clothes and brushing against your face is a picture he would pay money to be framed.

Kyle keeps glancing between you and the dark road ahead, knowing how dangerous it is to look off the road, but holy shit.

“I love this song.” You murmur, reaching forward to turn his stereo up louder. You tighten the seat belt and raise your arms up, feeling the wind thread between your fingers and feel it beat against your face. The feeling reminds you of where you are—with your best friend in his convertible, riding down some random dirt road. “Do you even know where we are?” You muse, glancing over at Kyle. However, you’re not worried. You never are. You don’t doubt your safety with him for a second.

Kyle hums and glances around; honestly, he doesn’t. It’s a shitty dirt road with trees. The road probably has pebbles and sizable rocks, judging by how the car jerks around a bit, but the price of a tire replacement is the least of Kyle’s worries. “No,” Kyle shouts over the music, glancing between the road ahead and you. “But we’re safe, yeah?”

You glance around, your eyes darting around the darkness. You’re sure if you were alone or with anybody else but Kyle, you wouldn’t be agreeing, but you find yourself nodding. “Yeah.” You echo him with a smile, mumbling the lyrics to the song on the stereo. Your arms lower, one of them hanging out the side of your car door, the other resting comfortably against your own body with your fingers tapping your knee to the beat.

“I do wonder how we will get home, though?” You question, your voice just loud enough over the music. Kyle can hear the amusement in your tone. He huffs as his eyes struggle to stay on the dirt road ahead of you two, his fingers tightening on his steering wheel. “GPS, sweets.” Kyle shouts with a snort. “Is this a marked road, though?” You respond—which makes Kyle go quiet for a moment because goddamn it, why do you have to be so smart?

Can’t you see he doesn’t want this to end?

“True,” Kyle eventually utters out loud, nearly drowned out by the low rumbling of the music. There’s a forming ball in the base of his throat, an anxious feeling that remains stuck. He can’t help but let his eyes drift from the dirt road and trees to you—and God, every glance is like the first time. You’re grinning like an idiot and you’re having so much fun doing something relatively mundane with him. And you’ll never know how much that means to him.

Kyle’s fingers twitch with want—but he looks back to the road and sighs, taking a quick glance at the clock on his dash. It’s late, he knows he should slow down and find a way home. It’s getting a bit cold, and he can feel the tiredness seeping into himself. He can tell you’re beginning to feel it, too.

The ball in Kyle’s throat lodges itself in his chest instead, right near where his heart remains. He isn’t too sure what to make of it. How can he even consider driving home when you’re glowing in the faint light of the dash, of the moon? He is never sure when he’ll get another moment like this with you.

Kyle’s eyes flicker to his gas tank meter; he has a pretty good amount left. Without thinking, he utters—“Let’s stay up all night.”

His eyes glance to you, and you’re looking back at him with a soft, closed lip smile, contemplating his suggestion. You eventually murmur, “It’s 3:35, Kyle. Are you sure? You’ve been quite tired since you’ve come home.”

His chest tightens—home?—“I’m sure.” He responds with a firm tone, shrugging as he glances back to the road ahead of him. Kyle forces himself to relax, one hand on the wheel and his other arm hangs out the side of the car, mirroring you in a way. “Why not? We have the whole night and a full tank, hm sweets?” You can’t help the laugh, turning down the music a bit.

“I get to choose the music.” You negotiate, reaching for his phone, but Kyle’s already handing it to you without looking. “Always.” He responds in a soft manner, your fingertips brushing against each other. Kyle glances at the dash clock again; 3:37.

Please don’t let this night end.

🏷️; @kivino @soapybutt17 @microwavedcheetos @frazie99 @narcolepticduck @ch3rrykoolaid @kimdiedlater @glossysoap @thisuserloveshalloween @ornateorchid @missborntodiex @indefenseofkara @queen-leviathan @specter319 @theunplannedvariable @spacelia @1117sblog @talooolalolla @sstormyskyess @spicyspicyliving @nyushkawritesstuff @tipsykeen

this taglist is my overall taglist from here. if you are wrongly tagged or don’t want to be tagged anymore, let me know! no hard feelings.

[grinnames]

Godbox AU Chapter 0: The Entity and the 0rigin

It was such a strange feeling. One moment ago, it was so chaotic, so loud. There was a blinding flash that had engulfed him, followed by a split second of white hot pain that swallowed his body before everything became nothing. Now, it was so quiet, so dark, and he felt nothing. What had just happened to him…?

SMG4’s thoughts collected. Before his eyes, darkness spread in every direction. Floating aimlessly around him a random assortment of destroyed objects, all ranging from broken earth, cake, stardust, and bone. He couldn’t feel the ground beneath his feet, and he couldn’t tell up from down.

“Those must be the broken pieces of destroyed universes,” he mused to himself. “Wait a second, DESTROYED UNIVERSES!?”

The revelation came back into his mind. He remembered now. He remembered the overwhelming grief and rage overtaking his soul as SMG0 swallowed Melonie whole. He had grabbed SMG3’s hand, and used anti-memes to create a penetrating blast that went cleanly through the eldritch demon’s head. The sadness within him was so strong that he had forgotten to go mad with power. He was completely in control.

He remembered pulling Melonie out from the bowels of SMG0’s corpse, and making a break for the exit to escape the Godbox.

He frowned. Usually, that meant that they had beaten the bad guy, and that he should be returning home in triumph by now. 

“Oh hey idiot. You’re finally up.”

“AAAAAAAAH WAIT WHAT?!”

SMG4 whirled around, finally noticing SMG3. “Dude! You’re okay!”

SMG3 scoffed. What a tsundere. “As much as I’m disgusted by your concern for me, we have more serious things to worry about right now.”

“Well duh!” said SMG4. “We have to find a way to get back home! We’re still floating in the vacuum of the Great Beyond!”

SMG3’s face froze as he took a second to process what SMG4 just said. “SMG4… DO YOU SERIOUSLY NOT REALIZE WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO US?!” he asked incredulously.

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…no?”

SMG3 gave him the biggest “are-you-kidding-me” expression ever, and then his face suddenly fell. He looked… sad? “SMG4… we’re dead.”

“...Eh?” SMG4 couldn’t quite process what he had said. Surely this was just SMG3 pulling a cruel prank?

But SMG3 wasn’t smiling. He actually looked like he might cry. “Look down, man.”

He looked down. He immediately wished he hadn’t looked. There, floating beneath his feet, were two mangled and charred corpses. The one wearing a torn blue shirt and ragged white overalls was missing a chunk of its right side, and most of its limbs were gone, leaving bloody and messy stumps. It had his face, mouth open in an endless silent scream, and one eye missing, leaking bloody tears. 

The other corpse was wearing a dark blue shirt and ruined black overalls. It was missing a lot of the flesh that used to cover its torso, neck and mouth. Its damaged organs were exposed, and the jaw was completely gone. It was also missing most of its limbs.

Finally, he looked at his own hand. It was glistening, almost glowing, and he could see through it. He waved his trembling other hand to it, and it passed right through with no resistance.

“...What went wrong…?” his question breathed out.

“We didn’t escape the Godbox before it was blown up. The lid closed on us suddenly, trapping us all inside.” SMG3 said in a monotone voice. “But if it’s any consolation, before you uh… gained consciousness? I floated around to look for Mario and Melonie. I can’t find their bodies, so I can only hope that they survived.”

“... Welp. Guess I won’t be buried in that giant grave that I bought some time ago, ehehe…”

“You commissioned a fancy grave for yourself?”

SMG4 laughed embarrassedly. “Some strange girl gave me a coupon for it, I think she was the head of the… Sheng Wang Funeral Parlor…? I couldn’t pass up on the deal!”

“Ugggghhhhhhhh, I can’t believe I have to share my afterlife with you!” SMG3 groaned. 

“O h, y o u  w o n ‘ t  h a v e  t o.” whispered a new voice. Despite it only being whispered, the words echoed through the void, and chilled the two SMGs to their very cores.

Multiple red eyes lit up in the darkness, surrounding the two with their stares. A terrifying, looming presence filled the very atmosphere. 

“H-hello?” SMG4 called out into the darkness. “Who’s there?! What do you want with us?”

“Huh… let me guess, are we in hell? Are you the devil?” asked SMG3. Then he smirked, albeit nervously. “Are you here to give me a seat of honor?”

“Oh god I don’t wanna go to helllllllllllll….” moaned SMG4.

“I am the entity that calls itself the END.” 

Silence. 

SMG4 piped up. “Uh-”

“Your friends have destroyed my vessel. Gone, blasted to smithereens. I will miss my old box.”

Their souls ran cold. The thing they were speaking to, the thing that had them at their mercy, was the Godbox. Well, what used to be the Godbox.

“Be not afraid. I will not take my wrath out on you.”

“However, in order to continue my purpose, I need new vessels. Your bodies, despite being made to combat my power, were also perfect conduits of channeling it.”

SMG4 felt his stomach plummet. He and SMG3 really had wielded the power of the anti-memes. It felt so seamless, so natural channeling that wild, untamed force with a clear mind. And now they had caught the attention of the origin of that power.

“You are worthy replacements to that box I once resided in.”

SMG3 suddenly shouted, “Waitwaitwaitwait hold up! You just can’t take our bodies like that! What’s going to happen to us?! What are you going to do with our bodies!? If you’re taking our bodies, we deserve… uhhh… compensation! Y-yeah! You… four-million eyed eldritch freak!”

“What are you doing?!” SMG4 whisper-shouted.

“I’m trying to stall!” SMG3 whispered back. 

“I suppose you have the right to know.”

“Oh it actually worked-”

“Ever since I came into existence, I had one purpose. I corrupt and consume. Soon you will also corrupt and consume. It will be the new purpose of your bodies. Your minds. Your souls.”

In a flash, the two souls were impaled upon jagged crystals of black and red anti-meme energy. SMG4 cried out in shock, and SMG3 hissed in pain.

“Not only will your bodies fuse with my essence, but your souls will be devoured as well. It will be my first meal, to mark my rebirth.”

The jagged, pulsating darkness began to crawl across the very culminations of their beings, gnawing and eating away at their essences. They tried to scream, but what came out instead of their own voices were primal, unnatural howls. 

“I must have perfect vessels. I intend to become you, in body, mind, and soul. And you will become me, in body, mind, and soul.” 

Red strings dragged their writhing, corrupted souls back into their ruined bodies. The entity funneled the rest of itself into every nook and cranny, entering its new home. Black, glitchy flesh began to seal their wounds, and replace what was lost.

“As for your compensation, I will return you two home, safe and sound.” 

Next

Man I really hope I don't think of something cooler than this later, this origin story took so long to decide on!

Seriously I have five other origins written out and I was spiraling trying to think of the best one-

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

[faithst]

WAKING ZB1 UP WITH KISSES

pairing zb1 (ot8) x gn!reader

genre fluff

note omg my first emoji anon ⁉️ thank you sm for liking my works and congrats on being my first emoji anon !! i hope you enjoy this 💕

masterlist<3

— zhang hao

there’s two types of people in this world; one that’ll get annoyed if you wake them up and one that’ll be absolutely fine to be woken up

and then theres hao, confused 😦

his head is in another universe right after waking up

where, who, what? he doesn’t know either

you decided to kiss him awake cuz why not <3

hao sat up, hair messy and sticking up to random places

he takes a glance at you, slowly taking in the fact that he was easily woken by kisses

knitting his eyebrows together, his facial expression perplexed 🧐

“why were you kissing me when i was asleep? i can’t kiss you back like that..”

— sung hanbin

so HECKING happy

wakes up instantly ‼️

but he acts like he’s still asleep just for more kisses

it worked for a bit until he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot

he can’t even muster out a sentence without giggling

insists you wake him up like this every single day

he also does the same for you 🫶

“i’m still a bit sleepy, you should give me another kiss.”

— seok matthew

this man is a 50/50

maybe he’ll wake up, maybe he won’t ; let’s test the chances today !

you place a kiss to his forehead, his nose, his cheek–

suddenly, you feel strong arms pull you towards him and both of your lips connect

jokes on you ! he was already awake

he’s grinning so hard rn

right when you thought he was gonna actually wake up, he falls right back asleep

holding you in a tight embrace so you are forced to sleep with him

“that was fun. okay, time for bed!”

— shen ricky

he’s confused at first

once he realises you were kissing him awake, it’s over for him 😊

his entire face and ears covered in hues of pink

ricky tries keeping his cool, acting annoyed and pulling the blanket over his head to avoid embarrassing himself

“don’t do that, it’s too early!”

when you do actually stop, he’s becomes a bit sad

he finally sits up and looks to you whom has a bright smile

a bit hesitant but he musters up all the courage he has to ask for more kisses (in his own way ofc 🤞)

“…ugh, fine. you can keep kissing me..”

— park gunwook

another shy one !

but he’s mostly giggly abt it

he won’t let you stop, he WILL ask for more and will not let you miss a single spot on his face

“one more kiss, please!”

he’s too cutie patootie for you to decline 🥹

also, he doesn’t want to be woken up by any other way now

he might take naps on purpose just for kisses

his whole day is made and once he feels like he can take on anything for the rest of the day 💪

“you missed a spot here, kiss it please!”

— kim taerae

if lovestruck was a man; it’s him

you are literally his muse 🎼

the moment your lips fall onto his face

his eyes flutter open to see you infront of him

to others, you may look a bit messy, face somewhat puffy from just waking up

but to him, you were the equivalent of an angel that fell from heaven

+ you kissing him awake; god, he was so inlove..

his dimples showing as he smiles from your soft touches, the natural light from the window shining over his delicate features

“please keep waking me up like this.”

— kim gyuvin

he’s a bit difficult to kiss

only because he sleeps face flat on the pillow 😭

so you’d have to move him to the side a bit and USUALLY he accidentally wakes up by then

but in the minuscule chance he doesn’t

he gets annoyed that you woke him up 😦

only for a bit tho !

he has a very very very soft spot for you

so when he finally stirs awake and realises you are kissing him

he pulls you into his arms and gives you kisses on both of your cheeks

“what a nice way to be woken up by!”

— kim jiwoong

wakes up instantly

the moment your lips touch his forehead, he immediately sits up

if you ask him why, he doesn’t know either cuz he’s just as confused as you 👍

stares at you for quite a while before retracing his steps and realising you kissed him

and suddenly he’s a blushing mess

it’s really sudden tho 😭

like, he was staring blankly at your face earlier and now he’s giggling like a kid

“i like your kisses..”

© keiwook | 2023

tag @bruhiamistake @trashydez @chxrrymxxnlight @haesunflower @big-uwu-stan @gnwookie @yjhcloud @kpoprhia @channiesprincess @blaycke

here if you want to join the taglist !

[dearest-tobio]

“what’s your favourite moment of our relationship so far?”

you pose the question to iwaizumi against the backdrop of huntington beach. the sun dips the sea in hues of orange, a vibrant see you tomorrow to end the day. activity on the shore fades out with the waves: families packing up, surfers swimming back to land. you and iwaizumi are almost the only two left—his hand around your shoulder and your head on his chest as you both lay on the picnic blanket.

“favourite part?” he inquires back. “it’s hard to choose.”

you playfully hit his chest, shifting closer in his embrace. “oh come on, don’t give me that generic answer. there must’ve been something that stood out.”

in the brief quiet that follows, your eyes drift to the palm trees gently swaying in the wind. “well,” iwaizumi muses, “i do mean it. i don’t have a favourite part.”

his fingers reach up to caress the side of your hair: warm, tender, loving. “i loved meeting you for the first time. we were both clumsy as fuck at orientation.”

you laugh, thinking about your first day at uc irvine. absorbed in figuring out the campus map on your phone, you ended up bumping right into another student. the impact of the collision threatened to knock you off your feet—if it wasn’t for the other student’s steady grip on your hand.

you immediately uttered countless apologies, getting back on your feet and letting go of his grasp. the student shook it off. he wasn’t watching where he was going either, he claimed. you shared a smile—little did you know then, one of many more to come—before you introduced yourself to him.

he returned the courtesy, and you almost missed his name because of the way his dark spiky hair seemed to gleam under the california sun.

“hajime iwaizumi. nice to meet you.”

back in the present, iwaizumi laughs in tandem with you, a deep timbre you’ve always adored. “yeah, we were kind of stupid. great story to tell though.”

iwaizumi glances up at the seagulls flying up ahead, disappearing from his view not long after. “i also love our first anniversary. just stargazing at some random trail. and our second with the build-a-bears. and our third at the fair.”

“oh, and you meeting everyone from back home. especially those three idiots.” you laugh louder this time, recalling the first video call you had with iwaizumi’s old teammates at aoba johsai. “honestly,” he continues with apparent amusement laced in his tone, “where oikawa, makki, and mattsun are, chaos is sure to follow.”

“i loved meeting your friends!” you exclaim, beaming ear-to-ear. “can’t wait to meet them in-person someday.”

you feel iwaizumi’s chest rise and fall as he scoffs. “they’re a handful, baby. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“going back to the question,” iwaizumi continues, “do you really want to know why i don’t have a favourite moment?”

“go ahead. i’m waiting.”

“i don’t have a favourite moment…” iwaizumi pauses, and you feel his lips pressing a quick kiss against your forehead.

“i don’t have a favourite moment, because any moment with you is my favourite.”

masterlist

[jenosbliss]

pairing. fem!reader x jisung | genre. fluff | wc. 0.6k | warnings. the reader is short, few cuss words

[8:36 pm]

Late evening supermarket runs weren’t a usual practice for you and your roommate. While showering, she suddenly realized that she had run out of pads and it was that time of the month. After a thorough search, a lone pad miraculously appeared.

Exiting the sanitary aisle, you mused about snacks. “I’ve been craving Cheetos,” you said languidly. “You’ve mentioned that five times this week,” your roommate retorted with an eye roll. “No one knows me better than you, my love,” you teased, blowing her a kiss as you dashed to the snacks.

The excitement was short-lived. Not because they were out of Cheetos stocks but because they had decided to place them on the top most shelf, which was far out of reach.

“Are they for real” with hands on your hips you scoffed. Despite several leaps toward the tantalizing orange bag, it remained just out of grasp. “Y/n, I’ll order them online, or we can check another store. Or let’s get Doritos!” your roommate suggested picking up the said snack which was kept on a lower shelf.

“I will get this Cheetos only.” Settle for less? No way! You weren’t a quitter, no matter how bad a situation was or how tough a challenge was, you won’t give up. People may think of this as stubbornness but you weren’t raised a quitter. If you want something you will get it.

“You can’t get-” before she can complete you cut her off mid sentence, “No. Please find a staff member who can probably help us.” Maybe they have a ladder or something as there’s no way an average height human could reach that!

When she went to find help, not being able to wait for someone you contemplated more creative solutions to get the Cheetos. One idea that came to mind was to throw a shoe at it and knock it down, which was stupid, but desperate times call for drastic measures.

Hence, the left shoe was removed, target was set, and shoe-missile was launched at the enemy territory –the Cheetos packet laughing at you– after careful calculations. There was just a minor setback… the shoe missed the target and went all the way to the next aisle.

“Oww! What the fuck” was followed by quick shuffling and footsteps leading to you. The flight and fight mode kicked in an instant, flight was the best option but you needed your shoe back, therefore you settled for the latter… fight.

A young man, wearing a grey hoodie which covered his forehead along with black hair falling in front of his eyes, looking absolutely breath taking without any effort appeared in your aisle holding your shoe.

“This belongs to you?” He asked swinging the shoe on two of his fingers and was that a smirk?God he was hot. “I’m really sorry… I was trying to get that packet,” you explained, pointing to the Cheetos.

He seemed tall enough to easily retrieve the bag, just a stretched hand and there he is giving you the packet without any issues! Well you hoped he would voluntarily help you but maybe that wasn’t what he had in mind.

With a perfect aim unlike yours he tossed the shoe back at your head making you yelp. “Hope your brain starts working now.” Men open their mouth and ruin everything, he along with his actions ruined it. “Hey! Are you out of your mind?” He let out a dry chuckle at your words.

“You think so ‘Miss who goes throwing shoes at random people’ huh?” He taunted, leaning against one of racks looking at you unamused. “I said it wasn’t intentional, but what you did is dumb!” Huffing loudly at his casual attitude, you crossed your arms over your chest.

His icy voice filled the area as he spoke “Watch that pretty mouth of yours. Throwing stuff around like a careless idiot doesn't make you look smart.”

“Ugh! What’s your problem dude? I apologised already and if you can’t help me then please leave for god’s sake.” Not expecting his help, you returned your attention to the Cheetos packet.

He smirked at your stubbornness. “I’d rather watch you struggle.” he said, amused, his eyes following your movements. Choosing to ignore his presence, which was anything but easy, you focused on your target.

Again an idea struck you: the racks seemed sturdy, so if you stepped on the bottom shelf, you might reach the goddamn packet. Without hesitation, you climbed onto the bottom shelf. Still, you were unable to reach the top one, hence, you decided to step on the next one, gripping the upper shelves for support, both feet off the ground.

Jisung watched the whole scene unfold in front of his eyes. Not budging at all to help eben though he knew how dangerous this could be, finding this entertaining or so he thought until he saw one of your foot slip, causing you to lose balance.

As if on cue he rushed to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to support you. He didn’t expect you to fall completely, landing on top of him. The chaos ended with him on his back, you in his arms.”

“What an idiot” he groaned in pain. “Do you think you’re Spiderman, climbing the racks, thinking you won’t hurt?” Wincing, he spat out his words. Maybe it was the closeness that made you not argue back, but all you could manage was a timid “sorry.”

A red hue crept up your face realizing how close you were to his face, his arms still wrapped around you securely, this was both embarrassing and exciting. "Y/N! Oh my god, what happened?" A concerned voice of your roommate pulled you out of your thoughts.

Stumbling, you stood up and pointed accusingly at the boy still on the ground. “I fell while getting the Cheetos, and he,” you cleared your throat, cheeks still flushed, “he saved me.” Jisung, hissing from the pain in his back, stood up too.

"Jisung?" She asked recognising him. "Oh hey neighbour." He said surprised. Neighbour? Whose neighbour? Her parent’s? “Is she your friend?” He looked you up and down with a disdainful look. Your roommate nodded her head in slight surprise. “She’s such a pain in the ass, how do you even put up with her?”

“What the-” The audacity of this Jisung boy. You were about to defend yourself when your roommate put a hand over your mouth and pulled you out of the aisle and the store. “See you later, Jisung.”

“What was that?” you huffed angrily once you got home. “God, Y/N, Jisung is our new neighbor! You met Chenle and Jaemin, right? Well, Jisung just moved in yesterday. I didn’t want you to start a fight with him,” she explained.

Chenle and Jaemin were so sweet and humble, they even help you carry stuff whenever you ran into them at the parking lot, always had the warmest smiles while greeting you and this Jisung guy on the other hand… let’s not get into it. You practically hate him already.

Jisung wasn’t like his friends, and knowing he was your neighbor, he’d make sure your life wasn’t easy. But still the next morning you found a packet of Cheetos on your door with a note reading “For the Feisty and Stubborn one. Nice to meet you neighbour ;)”

mastaerlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

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[writtenonreceipts]

Rowaelin Month Day Seven: All Dressed Up @rowaelinscourt

Month Masterlist // Part One // Part Two // AO3

Doesn’t fit in with today’s prompt, but, I did finish this story one year later so...I think that counts for something.

Warnings: nothing major, ~3.5k words

The Words We Share--Part Three

Rowan Whitethorn grew up on the stories of his homeland.  Little myths and legends that fueled his imagination since he was a child.  It hadn’t taken him long to learn how to create his own stories, how to twist tales and give a voice to his musings.  He just never thought it would get him to where he was now.

He stared at the projected numbers for his new release, already there had been two calls for reorders and the official publication date was still a month out.  It was set to be his biggest release yet.

And still he felt…unsettled.

If that was even the right word.  He could spin a villain’s origin story that could chill anyone’s blood.  He could paint the Scotland highlands with vivid accuracy and enchanting detail.  He’d won awards and been featured on dozens of sites and bestsellers lists.  He’d even been offered an adjunct professor position at the local state college to teach creative writing.  But he couldn’t put a name to this emotion roiling through his chest.

Nothing came.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text on the table beside him and Lorcan’s name flashed on the screen.

>>u see this?

A link to the comment section on a website followed.  Aelin’s website.

Rowan’s stomach dropped as his thumb hovered over the link.  He tried to imagine just what he was getting himself into.  He’d experienced his share of feedback in the form of book reviews and he’d seen plenty of other comments from other shows he’d been a part of.  But this…this felt different.

He clicked the link before he could second guess himself.  And he opened himself up to hell.

It ranged from the usual notes from his fans, those that kept up with his books and how he wrote.  And then he found the comments from Aelin’s fans.  Which was where he found the crazies.  The TikTokers, the influencers, the people who absolutely devoured any form of content with their theories, their headcanons, their passions.  Rowan never begrudged a person their hobby, in fact, he encouraged finding something that brought you joy.  But this…this…

xxgalaCREWfan99xx: ok but was no one going to tell me ROWAN WHITETHORN HAD A SEXY VOICE?? Do I have to change my reading habits now??

Readingbaebe: Does he write romance at all?? I refuse to read anything else.

TheMidnightBookClub: to much historyyyy YAWN

BOOKS4LIFE: but y wuz there banter so on point?? Talk about sxxxyy!

Letsreeeeead: @BOOKS4LIFE: I KNOW RIIIIGHT? Tlk abt meet cute??

Jdashbywriter: would love to hear more of your craft Rowan! Thanks for your books.

Some of the commentors were not as crazy as others.  There was a reason he refused to get a TikTok account no matter what Dorian tried to tell him it would do for his sales.  And there was a reason he’d hired an assistant so he didn’t have to deal with any of this.

He reached for his phone, fully prepared to call Aelin and see if she’d seen any of this.  He stopped himself.  He couldn’t let himself do that.  Not after everything that had happened.

Just as he pulled his hand back from his phone, the screen lit up.  His heart made an uncomfortable leap until he saw the name.

“What, Fen?” he demanded.

“Dude, I didn’t know you were dating Galathynius,” Fenrys said from the other line. “Congrats!”

Rowan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Stop reading random comments on the internet.”

“But they’re so entertaining!  Probably doing my job better than I can,” Fenrys replied.

Indeed, Rowan had made the remarkably stupid decision to let Fenrys be his media manager.  It wasn’t that Fenrys couldn’t do a job properly or was stupid himself (an idiot, sure, but that was different) he could.  It was only that Fenrys had a different vision for just about everything when it came to his books.

“Please don’t let the TikTok win,” Rowan said.

“It’s just TikTok,” Fenrys said.

Rowan cursed. “I hate you.”

“I’m just saying,” Fenrys continued, utterly unaffected by Rowan’s disdain, “you’re getting more hits on your recent Instagram reels and followers.  This whole thing will be good for you.”

Rowan wasn’t sure about that. “Is that the only reason you called?”

There was a pause from Fenrys and Rowan felt a distinct rise in dread.  Nothing good came from a silence like that.

“Remelle St. Moore wants you on her podcast,” Fenrys said, the words coming out in rapid fire.

“Oh for shits-sake,” Rowan muttered, “no.”

He remembered the last time he had interacted with the book influencer at a launch party for one of his fellow writers.  Between the alcohol and suggestive comments on her part, he’d barely made it out alive.  Really, it was because of that experience he preferred to keep to his own group of fans, or too himself.

“That’s what I thought you’d say, but she’s got a lot of viewers,” Fenrys said.

“Which is why I agreed to the podcast with Aelin,” Rowan groused, “at least she didn’t try and grope me at a party.”

“No, you just tried to play hero and save her from being stood up.” Rowan could practically hear the grin growing on his friend’s face. “Which must have worked out really good for you based on some of these comments.”

“I’m hanging up,” Rowan said, “no more podcasts.  Or interviews.”

“What if Aelin’s the one asking?”

He hung up before answering.

Leaning back in his office chair, he tried to ignore what Fenrys had said.  Especially the bits about him and Aelin.  He knew that nothing had happened between the two of them.  And nothing ever would.  He’d known it even before he stepped in to help Aelin save face after being stood up.  That hadn’t stopped him from stepping in though. 

He didn’t know what had come over him that night at the restaurant, only that he couldn’t believe someone had stood her up.  He hadn’t known it was her, at first.  Only that Lorcan and Fenrys were commenting on the fact a woman was dining alone and they were taking bets on what she would do.  When he had finally grown tired of their antics, he’d turned to find Aelin swirling a glass of water in her hand looking utterly dejected.

It was a far cry from the Aelin he’d gotten to know over the years.  Headstrong and stubborn, wild and untamed, charismatic and independent.  Something had shifted over the last eight months, though.  He’d been sure to keep his distance, relying on the illusion of finishing his book.  It was mostly a lie.  His book was going along well, remarkable even.  But then Aelin had gotten a boyfriend.  And from the sounds of it, it had been everything she’d wanted.

Pining after women had never been something Rowan did, but after Aelin and Sam had gotten together it felt like that was all anyone ever talked about at the office.  The only response Rowan could think was to take his work elsewhere.  He went back to Scotland to visit his mother, he travelled the continental U.S. He did everything in his power to put some much needed distance between him and Aelin Galathynius.

Which did absolutely nothing.

She had already wormed his way into his manuscript.  And like a fool, he’d insisted she read it.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised she never caught on to his rather blatant illusions.  She didn’t like him, made it clear.  Which was another reason his stepping in at the restaurant was psychotic. 

But she was Aelin and there was something about her that he couldn’t ignore or let go.  And seeing Sam stand her up?  Hell, it made him angry.  And Rowan didn’t even know Sam.

Rowan shook his head and shut down his computer.  He was being foolish.  On so many different levels.

He knew he wasn’t going to get any writing done.  Instead, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and wallet.  He needed to get out of his apartment even if he didn’t have a destination in mind.

.*.

The manuscript stared innocently up at her.  The Times New Roman font was evenly spaced, paper fresh and crisp from the office printer.  She’d used Dorian’s own code to print all these pages out so no one would trace the mass printing back to her.  Technically she shouldn’t have done this.  It was a lot of paper and she wasn’t even on the editorial team for this author.

But Aelin never did like listening to rules.

I thought it was obvious.

Rowan’s words from earlier that afternoon rang in her head.  They bounced around in a relentless beat and refused to be dismissed.  Because they meant one thing and one thing alone: she had missed something while reading his book.  And she didn’t miss things.

So, red pen in hand, fresh coffee on her desk, and a newly printed manuscript before her—Aelin set to work.

Just like with the first time reading Dead Man’s Game, she was drawn into the world immediately.  The setting, the characters, the subtle tones of magic all worked to create a plot that gripped her by the throat.

During this reread, Aelin focused more on Celaena.  Celaena who was reckless and selfish.  Celaena who put her life on the line too many times.  Celaena who loved fiercely and didn’t let anyone hold her back.  Celaena who killed witches and broke curses. 

She stopped reading somewhere around chapter five when something started to prick the back of her mind.  Something she’d tried desperately to stamp down all these years.  Even the past few months.

Though, it had been easier as of late because Rowan had disappeared into whatever writers’ nook he had.  That night at the restaurant had been one of the first times she’d seen him since learning about his new book.

She took a long drink of coffee before she fired a text off to Elide.  She needed someone to rant to about this because she had no idea what was going on or how to put into words what she was feeling.

When her phone rang a few minutes later, she picked it up on instinct. 

“Elide, did you see what I sent you?” she demanded, still staring at the cliff hanger of chapter five.

Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t her friend on the other line.  It was Sam.

“Aelin.”  He sounded relieved, which only made her blood pressure boil. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, baby.”

Aelin glanced at the Caller ID.  He must have gotten a burner phone and she’d been too distracted to make sure she knew the number.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she said.  “I broke up with you, end of story.”

“You didn’t even let me explain—”

“Explain what, Sam?” Aelin demanded.  All the pent-up anger she’d been trying to ignore and push aside rose too quickly to the surface. “That you stood me up again without bothering to try and call, hell, even text me?  Instead, I was left alone. Again.”

The anger burned away the tears she might have shed.  He didn’t deserve her tears; he didn’t deserve anything from her.

“You’re blaming me?” Sam scoffed. “I have a job, Aelin.  I’m a lawyer, I don’t get to sit around all day reading books—”

“Lose my number, Sam,” she said, eyes squeezed shut, “or I swear I’ll give your lawyer ass something to work over.”

She ended the call before flinging her phone across her office where it clattered against the wall.  The pain that ripped through her chest was more than just anger, but sorrow and pain.  She’d wasted so much time over Sam that coming out of it she felt like she was drowning.  She was barely treading water, she was—

“Why am I not surprised to find you here?”

Aelin nearly jumped out of her skin at the deep, careful voice coming from the doorway.  She spun in her chair, nearly careening out of it at the force, and found Rowan standing there.  How much had he heard?  How would he laud this over her head?  Did he judge her at all for the things she’d said?

“Rowan,” she said, far softer than she meant to.  Her skin was blazing over the phone call with Sam and she felt the flush deep in her cheeks, horrified that she was actually on the verge of crying now.

He jerked his chin over to where she’d tossed her phone. “Bad call?”

Aelin huffed a breath. “Sure, if you wanna call it that.”

Rowan stepped into her office, slow and careful as though he expected her to toss him back out.  He was dressed far more casual than Aelin had ever seen him.  With a pair of dark washed jeans and gray sweater, plain leather jacket—he seemed relaxed and at ease.  Not at all how she’d imagined him on a regular week day.

And then, because he seemed to know her so well, he made another comment. “Your boyfriend really seems like a keeper.”

“Not my boyfriend, not anymore.” Aelin didn’t look at him as she grabbed her coffee.  It was shocking how good it felt saying the words, like a weight was lifted off her chest. “Just doing some late-night reading, right now.”

Rowan frowned glancing at the manuscript.  The title page was tossed to the side so it was obvious what book it was.

“You already gave me your edits,” he said.

“Yeah, but I thought I was missing something.”  She shrugged and set the coffee aside.  “What about you?  Why bother coming here?”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair, messing the easy style it had settled into.  He didn’t answer her question immediately, choosing instead to fall into one of the chairs before her desk.  The movement was so easy, as though he’d practiced it a hundred times, as though he belonged right in that chair.

“Did you see those comments on the podcast?”

Aelin’s brow furrowed.  Then, startling not just him, but her too—she laughed. “Oh, Whitethorn, you don’t actually read those comments.  Those people are insane.”

“A warning might have been nice,” he grumbled.

Another laugh tore through her, dispelling the sick feeling roiling in her gut. “Oh, poor little buzzard.  Are you traumatized?”

“Yes.”

Dissolving into another fit of giggles, Aelin clutched her stomach.  She couldn’t catch her breath as she kept laughing.  It didn’t help how affronted Rowan look, how confused.  It was…it was actually cute.  Not that she’d tell him that.

“What’s the madhouse got to say this time?” she asked once she’d gotten a hold of herself.  She also reached for one of her desk drawers and pulled out a bag of chocolate she only saved for rainy days.  She popped a truffle in her mouth and shook the bag at him.

Rowan declined the chocolate.  “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re blushing,” she said, leaning towards him. “Oh, I’ve got to see these.”

“I’m not—no—” he tried protesting but Aelin was already motivated to see what had gotten him so riled up.

It didn’t take long to get the gist of what he’d gotten so riled up over.

“Oh, these people need to touch some grass,” Aelin muttered.  Many of the insinuations and comments were…out there.  Far worse than when she’d interviewed an audiobook narrator known for his smut and spice scenes.  And that was saying something. 

“You deal with this a lot?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked at him. “And you don’t?”

“Fenrys filters a lot of them,” Rowan said absently, he paused just a second. “You think I get a lot of these types of comments?”

“I—” Aelin only then realized what her comment sounded like. “You’re a famous author, the crazies exist everywhere.”

She fought down the heat rising in her cheeks while Rowan only smirked.

“That’s it?” she asked, tightly, “you wanted to compare notes on comments?  You could have called.”

“Seeing what you do to your phone, I don’t think the call would have gone through.”  He met her gaze, green eyes intent.

Hell.  He must have heard more of that phone call than she’d have liked.

“Yeah,” she said dryly, “I guess I don’t like phone calls.”

They sat in silence together for far longer than Aelin would have thought possible.  She couldn’t help but shake her head at the fact.  Drawing a finger over the last few lines she’d read of Rowan’s manuscript; she snatched another truffle.

“So,” she said, “can I ask you something?”

Rowan raised a brow. “As long as it’s not gonna make it on another podcast.”

She rolled her eyes. “No need to fear, buzzard.  This is off the record. It’s about Celaena.”

Rowan shifted in his chair. “Why?”

Was he annoyed?  She couldn’t quite tell.  He wore a frown, that charming shit-eating grin long gone.  It was replaced by something guarded.

Aelin drummed her fingers on the manuscript, wetting her dry lips. “She’s based on someone close to you.”

“Close enough,” he shrugged, but Aelin had long ago learned how to read people.  He was tense, worried. 

“Does she know?  The woman she’s based off of?” With far more bravado than she felt, Aelin rose from her chair and came around the table.  She leaned against the desk, facing him, and crossed her arms.

“Aelin—”

“Or is she just supposed to figure it out along the way?”

She wasn’t mad, really, she wasn’t.  More, shocked than anything.

“To whatever end,” Celaena said, pointing the sword to the horizon where the ship holding her captive lover could be seen retreating. “I will find you.”

And Aelin remembered the last time she’d reviewed Rowan’s book.  Where she’d told him to raise the stakes, to let his characters face the unspeakable, to let them be reckless, to let them love.  And here was Celaena.  It wasn’t just that, but Aelin had shared those exact words with Rowan. That had been eight months ago.

Romance, Whitethorn, should be consuming for a character.  Let them have a purpose, let them have a duty to fulfill, to whatever end.

“To whatever end, Rowan?” she asked.

“I’m not allowed to find inspiration in real things or people?” He was still sitting, looking up at her the almost perfect picture of innocence.

She nudged his foot with her own. “Rowan.”

“Why does it matter?” he insisted.  He rose from his chair and it struck Aelin then how big Rowan was.  He was practically a tree—broad shoulders, thick muscles, at least six feet, probably six-four.  Aelin had never really felt small before, delicate, or breakable.  But next to Rowan? 

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze.  She didn’t want to hedge around this question, this tension brewing between them anymore.  She would wait out his answer no matter how long it took.

Rowan leaned closer to her, close enough that Aelin could smell the pine and salt on his skin.  He was close enough that she could see the flecks of deeper green amid the light in his eyes.

Her heart rate picked up.  It would have been embarrassing if she thought about it a little more.  But now, all she wanted was for Rowan to answer her.

He shook his head, just barely, and muttered something under his breath.  It was something in Gaelic if she had to guess.

“You really don’t get it,” he said.

“I want to hear you say it,” she insisted.

“You really are impossible, you know?”

“So I’ve read.”

A small smile quirked his lips and before Aelin could say anything else, he reached out to run a thumb down her jaw.  A shiver ran down her spine with anticipation. 

“I like you, Aelin,” he said, thumb still tracing her skin, “and I have for a while.”

Something clicked in her mind at those words, an understanding of sorts and she furrowed her brow.

“Is that why you disappeared for seven months?  You were here practically every day and then you just weren’t—” she trailed off slowly as the pieces fit together. “Sam.”

Rowan shrugged as though her words had no effect on him, but she felt the barest hint of pressure as his fingers tightened along her jaw.

“I had a manuscript to finish,” he said, “didn’t help that you hated me and then you were happy with someone else.  So, yeah, I left.”

As if on instinct, Aelin reached out and fisted a hand in his sweater.  Somehow in the last twenty-four hours since the podcast, the last week since the pseudo-date—she’d gotten attached.  Which was both hilarious and terrifying.  But was she surprised?  No, no, she really wasn’t.

“I was going to tease you for writing romance into your book,” she began, head tilted to the side, “but I think being the brilliant inspiration behind Celaena will be a lot more fun to hold over you.”

Rowan cursed, shaking his head. “I’m never going to live it down, am I?”

“Nope.”

They moved at the same time, coming together in a kiss that Aelin would later describe as the best first kiss she’d ever had.  One of Rowan’s hands delved into her hair, the other dropping to her waist to pull her closer.  Aelin wrapped one hand around his neck, just as desperate to keep him close. 

His lips were hard, bruising against her own, but Aelin couldn't find it in herself to care. All she could think about was the fire burning within at the feel of him, the taste of him.

“You gonna take me on a date first, Whitethorn?” she gasped, breaking the kiss.  She shivered as on of his hands slid along the bare skin of her thigh. Wearing a skirt did seem to have its perks.

“Already did that,” he replied.

She gaped at him, ready to tell him off. He cut her off with another kiss, which Aelin supposed was just as well.

In the end, no one would get the real story about what really happened that night or how it happened.  But maybe, along the way, a future book would hold some of the details.

end.

[sunlightmurdock]

The Parent Trap | 0.1 | Bradley Bradshaw x Ex-Wife!Reader

♡ Prologue | Next Chapter | Masterlist

♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it. (warnings will be added as story progresses).

…

“Alright! They’re here.” Maverick drops the curtain back into place and turns back towards his granddaughters. “Be cool.”

Peyton looks up, scrunches her nose just a fraction — she takes a moment to analyse what this might entail. Maverick sits back against the couch and opens his book up, picking a random page a couple of chapters in, settling into his position. Parker settles in equally easily, she drops down so that she’s sitting cross-crossed and immediately gets to work penciling in answers on her worksheet. Peyton inhales, then almost forgets to exhale, her mind racing as the sound of footsteps on the porch ring out over the top of Maverick’s soft soul album playing.

Finally, she drops down next to her sister and grabs a pencil.

“It’s been forever since I’ve seen Mav,” You muse, breathing out softly as you follow Bradley up onto the porch. It’s been forever since you’ve even been here, you’ve only seen Maverick a handful of times since you divorced Rooster. He was always kind to you. “He might not even recognise me.” You joke.

Rooster almost scoffs. Recognise you? — He hardly ever shuts up about you. It’s a good thing, probably, that his friends and family are so fond of you. It means he picked a good person to share his life with. It just makes things even more difficult now that the two of you have decided to go your own ways.

“He’s not that old.” Rooster settles with instead, keeping things lighthearted as he turns the door handle and opens the front door. He steps in first and holds the door open behind him for you. Taking a few steps forwards, he has a good view into the living room on the left.

The girls are both sitting on the floor, working on some school work together. Peyton’s helping her sister with math. Maverick is reading a fictional romance novel. One of Penny’s. Peyton is way worse than Parker at math. Damn it.

Maverick glances up from his book and even through the suddenly blurred lenses of his reading glasses, he can see the disappointment on Rooster’s face. Busted. But, as far as Rooster knows, this just means that the three of them spent the afternoon having fun and watching TV. Which isn’t entirely incorrect.

“Hi, Mav.” You step around Rooster sheepishly and lift your hand, waving it at him. Rooster looks you up and down, brows scrunching slightly. This is the man who drove you to the hospital when you were in labour and Rooster was an hour away in traffic. The same one who held you whilst you sobbed at the thought of not being a good enough mother and told you it was all going to be okay. The first person that the two of you told you were expecting.

And here you are, acting like he has become a stranger.

There are lots of aspects of divorce that hurt more than Rooster was expecting them to. Those hour long gaps in his Sundays now that he doesn’t have to go and put gas in your car. Getting home from work on a night that the girls are with you and his home being empty.

Now, Rooster doesn’t have much of a family. It was just Mav for a little while, and then Penny and Amelia came along. But, then he had you — and the girls, and you were all a big family. Now, Maverick is someone that you can only awkwardly say hello to. No longer family.

“Hey, honey! How’ve you been?” The book is discarded and Maverick is pushing himself up off of the couch, arms opened and walking towards you. Your body unstiffens, exhaling quickly as you let him envelope you in a hug. It takes everything in you not to rush out a pained ‘oh my god, I thought you hated me’.

Your mind jumbles, searching for the right words as Maverick squeezes you. He’s greyer than the last time you saw him, he still smells like the same cologne he wore when you met him. That means Penny’s still unsuccessful in making him stop buying the same pine scented spray that he wore in the eighties.

“Good! I’m — busy, but I’m good.” You manage out. He pulls back to look at you, catching your arms like you’ll disappear again if he doesn’t ground you right here with him. He looks over your face fondly. Both of you a little bit older, probably none the wiser.

Pete grins and nods his head. “I’m glad, I’m so glad.”

Rooster looks between the two of you, then back at the kids looking up at them curiously. As he glances back to Maverick, he knows that it’s only a matter of time before the old man starts spouting off some crap about how the two of you would probably be happier together.

“Mav, could we have a second alone with the kids? — We still have to get them home before their bedtime and stuff.” Rooster reminds his uncle gentle. Maverick jumps to his senses and pulls back nodding.

“Oh, right. Of course. I’ll — I’m going to go and start making dinner for Penny. I’ll be in the kitchen.” As he turns, his back to the two of you, his eyes on the kids, Maverick gives them an overzealous wink. It’s up to them from here on out. Then, he leaves and heads for the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

Bradley moves first. He walks calmly into the living room and sits down in front of the two of them. You follow suit. There’s a beat of silence, the four of you looking at each other.

Finally, you’re the first to speak. “First, your dad and I just wanted to say that we’re glad you two can talk to each other, and that you wanted to help out your sister. But you know that this was completely the wrong way to go about it. Right?”

“We know…” Peyton agrees dejectedly, guilt in her tone and her body language as she twirls her pencil between her fingers.

You do your best not to make it a lecture, knowing that they’ll just zone out if you drone on at them too much. They’re still little and long lectures can be draining on their developing minds. You do your best to engage, asking them questions, keeping them involved.

It’s clear that they know what they did was wrong. You’ve got a sneaking feeling that this probably won’t be the last time they do something like it, but for now it’s resolved either way.

They’re going to write an apology to their teachers for switching classes again. You and Rooster had been texting about this all afternoon, you’ve considered making them write an apology to William — but he’s kind of a little asshole and his mother is even worse.

You check your watch and it’s already a little after seven. Their bedtime is eight. Luckily, Mav gave them dinner, so all you have to do is get them home and into bed. Then, you can get started with the mountain of work that you have left to do tonight.

“Alright, go say goodnight to Grandpa Mav, we should get going.”

“Can I drive home with Dad?” Parker asks suddenly. A quick glance towards your ex-husband, clearly tired after the day, relaxed back against the couch. He moved a while ago, complaining that sitting on the floor was hurting his back. You shake your head quickly.

“No, not today. It’s out of his way, and you two need to get to bed soon.”

“I just wanted to talk to him about the stuff with Billy,” She turns those big brown eyes towards Rooster and looks up at him, guilt filled and sorrowful. “I feel bad for not telling you about it. Can we talk?”

You open your mouth to correct her. Rooster, already suckered, sits forwards and nods his head. “Yeah, Peanut. We can talk about it.”

“You don’t have to, I mean, it’s—“

“It’s alright, I can take them back with me and we’ll just meet you at your place.” Rooster decides, running his fingers through his auburn hair and sitting up, readying to stand.

For the millionth time that day, your children catch you off guard. Peyton looks up, scowling, completely serious as she shouts, “No, I want to go with Mom!”

Rooster glances across at you, then back at her. Ultimately, he shrugs — it has been a long day and the twins’ favourite parent switches up routinely, he has learned to just take it in his stride. “Alright, so we’ll take one each. Just me and you, Parks.”

You’re more skeptical of this behavior, and your daughters recognise it immediately. You squint as you look between the two of them, and their sweet little faces. They’re probably up to something, but like their dad, you’re exhausted and don’t have time to investigate.

“Okay. One each.” You agree with a tired shrug, pushing yourself up from the floor. The girls rush off to say their goodbyes to Maverick, Bradley thanks him for watching them, then you’re all bundling out to the cars. You pause at the realization that Rooster has his bronco.

He catches your scowl as you pass him one of the booster seats. “She’ll be fine, I’ll drive slow.”

“I can take her, it’s not a problem.” You shake your head at the thought of her climbing up into that almost fifty year old, mostly metal, box. Rooster has always defended that truck to you, insisting that it’s safe. Still, you had made him buy something safer for when he has the kids. Their booster seats are still in the backseat of the fourth gen dodge Ram on his driveway, he never takes them in this.

“I’m going with Dad.” Parker insists. You both turn, looking up to find her already climbing on the side of the truck, having lifted herself up onto the step, now struggling to get the door open.

“We’ll see you at your place.” Rooster nods. With that, he turns away from you and wraps and arm around Parker’s middle, scooping her off of the side of his truck and opening the door with her under one arm.

You swallow softly and slide into the driver’s side of your car. Before you’ve even turned the key in the ignition, Peyton pipes up from behind you. “Was it weird being at Grandpa Mav’s house? — Did you guys used to be friends?”

“Alright, you buckled in?” Rooster looks up and checks his rear view mirror, finding his daughter’s smiling face looking back at him. He misses seeing those faces every day. She nods calmly and tugs at the seatbelt to prove it. Rooster nods, turning the radio down a little so that he’ll be able to hear her. The soft top cover will help, since the wind won’t be in their ears.

“Did you see that Mommy got her hair cut? — I like it like that, it’s pretty.” Parker comments, dragging her backpack across the seat towards her and starting to rifle through it as Bradley pulls away from the curb. He glances up at her through the mirror, brows scrunching just slightly, lips quirked.

“I thought we were going to talk about this Billy kid.” He reminds her.

“We are,” She shrugs her shoulders and pulls her notebook from the backpack, along with a blue pencil. “I’m just saying, Mommy looked really pretty today, don’t you think?”

“Your Mom always looks pretty. Just like you, Peanut.” At first glance, it’s a nice thing to say. But, it’s what he always says. With the two of them sharing so many of your features, he’d never dream of saying anything bad about the way you look. Not that he has anything bad to say anyway. Still, Parker is looking for something a little better than that.

She stares at him, squinting for a moment, then persists. “Yeah. But don’t you think she looks especially pretty now?”

Rooster glances up again, lips quirking more, brows scrunching in amused confusion at the serious expression on her face. “Yeah, I guess. — What’s this about?”

“I’m just asking. Don’t you think about Mom when you aren’t with her?” Parker frowns, folding her arms over her chest. Rooster pulls to a stop at a red light and looks back at his daughter, baffled. He always knew that getting a divorce was going to bring up some questions from the kids, he just wasn’t expecting this level of interrogation today.

He gives a small shrug. “Yeah, I think about you guys all the time. Y’know, how you’re doing, if you’re safe—“

“No, not us. Mommy.” Parker interrupts. Rooster glances back again, finding her staring back at him with her pencil resting on the page, her expression impatient. He pulls away from the now green light and shifts in his seat, completely confused.

“Um… yeah, I guess I think about her when we aren’t together. Parks, where’s all this coming from?” He frowns.

“Nowhere. So, anyway… Billy.” She tosses the notebook to the side and rests her hands in her lap.

Peyton twirls a curl around her finger, bopping her head to the lyrics of a song from the noughties. “I just think it’s cool that Daddy gets to fly planes. Did you think it was cool when you met him?”

When you met Rooster, you were still a bartender, working part time in a local boutique. You worked for Penny back then. You were somewhat young, especially impressionable — and he was perfect. Tanned skin, sunglasses and sea-salt tangled curls, asking you how your weekend was going every week.

Listening to your stories, asking you out, telling you about his adventures. It was all so quick in the beginning and yes, he was so cool.

“He was alright.” You answer back, glancing up into the rear view mirror with a soft smile toying at your lips. Peyton grins, she knows what that means.

She’s heard this story a million times and yet she asks again, “What was your first date like?”

Things with Rooster had never been exactly traditional. You’d already slept with him a couple of times before he finally murmured into your skin that he wanted to take you out for real, that he needed to know more about you.

But, that aspect obviously remains between just you and Rooster. You tell your kids about the date by the beach, him trying to impress you with somewhat of a picnic. Pushing him over in the water, him carrying you back to the car when you cut your foot on a rock by the shore.

He was so attentive in the beginning.

By the time you’re pulling onto the driveway, you check the rear view mirror and Peyton’s got her head leaned against the car door, lips parted, dead asleep. You smile softly, shaking your head as you unbuckle yourself and let yourself out.

Rooster pulls up as you close the door behind you. He turns off the ignition and hops down from the truck, standing under the glow of a streetlight.

“Parker’s asleep, I’ll carry her in.” He calls to you, already walking around to grab her door. You shake your head fondly as you turn back towards your car.

“Peyton too.” You chuckle.

Rooster unbuckles his daughter and lifts her into one of his arms, grabbing her backpack from the backseat with the other. He tucks her in against his side, her head lulling onto his shoulder, not stirring from her sleep in the slightest.

You groan as you hoist Peyton up onto your hip, struggling to balance her and shut the car door at the same time. It tugs at your heart strings as you realise out loud, “They’re going to be too big for us to do this soon.”

Rooster chuckles and steps around you to shut the car door for you. He makes it look so easy. “No, they’re going to be too big for you to do this soon. I’ve got a couple more years.”

You hug her closer to you, struggling to keep her tight against you, wondering when she got so big as you fumble for your keys in the tight back pocket of your shorts.

“I’ve got it.” Nudging your wrist out of the way, Rooster dips his hand into your back pocket and takes the keys. It’s a quick interaction, probably not him trying to cop a feel — it’s too fleeting for that, but it leaves you stunned nonetheless. He works the door open and glances back to check that you’re coming, still balancing your daughter with ease as he sets the keys on the end table inside.

Realising quickly that you must look like an idiot just standing there and staring at him, your feet carry you forwards and you kick the door shut behind you. He carries Parker up the stairs ahead of you. It hasn’t been that long since he lived here, it looks kind of different — the pictures on the stairway wall are different, but not unfamiliar.

He rounds the corner and pushes the door to their room open. Now, this is different. White walls dotted with little painted blue flowers, big-girl beds. Long gone is the nursery and toddler furniture that the two of you had filled this room with. It makes sense, their room at his place isn’t that different from this one, but still, he wonders why you didn’t ask him to help.

He sets Parker down on the bed closest to the door, slipping her shoes off of her feet and dropping them down to the floor beside her bedside table. The room would be bigger if they had bunk beds, but after last summer’s top bunk fight, you had forever abandoned that idea.

“I’ll go switch the car seats back over, if you wanna get them ready for bed.” Rooster says gently as you walk past him to set Peyton down in her own bed. You lift your head and nod gratefully at him across the dark room. Leaning forwards, you flick the switch for Peyton’s nightlight, it’s soft white glow illuminating the room enough for you to see the smile on his face.

“Thanks. Could you come back in afterwards? — I wanted to talk to you about something.” You’re busy unlacing Peyton’s tennis shoe and so you don’t notice the elated smile that’s on her face as she feigns unconsciousness. Rooster nods calmly.

“Sure. I’ll wait downstairs.”

Getting them both into their pyjamas, tucking them safely under their covers and slipping their respective stuffed animals in with them, kissing them both goodnight, it’s all part of the usual routine. Rooster’s leaning against the kitchen counter when you return back downstairs, arms folded over his chest as he frowns at the sink.

Slowly, you come to a stop a little bit away from him, unsure of how to say what comes next. You inhale, fiddling with your hands in front of you. He isn’t even looking at you, it’s like he knows already.

“Does it always drip like that?” He asks, pushing himself up and crossing the room to inspect the faucet. Your lips part, brows furrowing slightly. You hadn’t even noticed. He cranes his neck to get a better look. “You should’ve said, I can fix it this weekend or something, if you’re around.”

“Um… I actually wanted to see if you were free this weekend.” You explain calmly. Parker’s mouth gapes open as she and her sister huddle together at the bottom of the stairs, trying to listen to the soft conversation happening a room away. Rooster glances at you over his shoulder, just as taken back by the idea as his kids are. “There’s someone that I want you to meet.”

Rooster turns around to face you, leaning back against the counter and resting his hands on the wooden countertop. “Me? — Who would you want - Oh. You’re seeing someone?”

Realisation covers his face; it’s neither a good or bad reaction, and after years of knowing him as intimately as you do - did - you wish you could tell. You try to act as natural as he does about it.

“Well, I’ve been on a few dates with someone,” You explain gently. It’s a sensitive topic, telling your ex that you’re trying to move on. You’re not naive, you know that Rooster has hooked up with people since the divorce, you have too. But it’s different now, it’s bigger. “I really like him, and I’m thinking of introducing him to the girls. But I want you to meet him first.”

Parker slaps a hand over her sister’s mouth to contain the gasp, both of them ducking behind the railing by the stairs, like they won’t be seen through the gaps. They exchange looks, a thousand thoughts at once, plans being drawn up internally already.

It’s quiet in the kitchen, bar the sound of the faucet dripping behind him. His eyes, a dark hickory, search over your features. It’s unclear exactly what answer he’s searching for in your expression, but it doesn’t take him long to find it.

“Alright,” He nods his head. He signed those divorce papers just like you did. He was there for the custody hearing, the division of assets, explaining it to the kids. Rooster’s been present and aware of what this divorce means every step of the way. It’s been two years of pretty much radio silence. Neither one of you have exactly hidden the little flings you’ve had in the meantime, but you’ve kept that from the kids and you haven’t made a point of telling each other either.

Rooster’s trusted your judgment for as long as he has known you. If you think you’ve found someone worth introducing to the kids, then he should be happy. It wouldn’t be fair to hold you back.

He gives another curt nod, “That’s… it’s great. Congratulations.”

Your racing heart settles just slightly at his approval. Its pace slows but the pounding remains the same as you slowly raise your eyebrows at him. “So, this weekend?”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m free.” He agrees, nodding his head slowly. He taps his fingers on the countertops and glances around the home that the two of you had bought together just under a decade ago, silently wondering if your new boyfriend has been over.

It’s nothing to be upset about, the divorce was for the best, you both agreed that there shouldn’t be any hard feelings about it — these things happen. But, still.

“So, what’s he like?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet. “Um… well, he’s a carpenter, and he owns a DIY place down the street from my store. His name’s Chris, he’s about our age. He’s nice, I think you two would get along.”

Not a convict, not too old or too young for you, owns his own business. Rooster can’t find much to complain about. Peyton’s brows furrow as she waits for her dad to fix this, to tell you to stop seeing that guy and be with him instead. Rooster’s face softens as he nods his head again.

“He sounds great,” He decides finally, his voice gentle as he takes a step towards you and opens his arms. “I’m really happy for you.”

You exhale deeply, relieved as he wraps you in a loose hug, every fibre of the interaction platonic. Just as quickly as you’re tucked in his strong, warm arms, he lets you go again.

“Text me a time and a place, the three of us can do something this weekend,” Rooster brushes some loose curls back off of his forehead and squeezes your arm as he steps past. Parker sighs, leaning her head back, crushed. He’s doing it all wrong. “And… um, thanks for keeping me in the loop about all this. I really appreciate it.”

Your lips quirk up into a soft smile as you nod at him. His footsteps grow closer, reminding the girls that they’re supposed to be in bed. It’s a quiet scramble, trying not to trip over each other as they race back to their bedroom.

…

@fadingbelieverexpert @jessirosebud @cowboybarbie @pinkpantheris @thedroneranger @a-serene-place-to-be @xoxabs88xox @unordinare

[nerdieforpedro]

What do I tell you?

Lucian Flores x plus size female reader

This fic if for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 507

Summary: You reflect on your relationship with Lucian, what led the two of you here and how it's going.

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual activity, that gold chain, infidelity mention, Nerdie keeps seeing this man peep around the corner at random times

Notes: I was supposed to be working on another challenge but this happened. It's not beta-ed. It's a follow-up to a Lucian Drabble I wrote called "What I want from you." I'll do a third part because I can't leave it alone. 👀

Special Note: I edited this one too and stuck a new graphic on it. I like it. ☺️

Main Masterlist / Lucian Flores Masterlist/ What we’ve always wanted Masterlist

He asked you to marry him. To think about it, consider it. “Just if you ever wanted to. I know I always said I wouldn’t but for you I would. Just us side by side.”

It’s a promise that you’ve always hoped for, long before you married your ex-husband. Lucian’s doing much better now. His films are well received and profiting greatly. He also wanted you both in a new house, the one you were living in reminded him of the past. 

“I want to move forward with you. Forget everything, focus on me. On us.” His large hands cup your face and you look down at his chest, buttoning one of his favorite silk floral shirts. He was supposed to be gone an hour ago, but you walked out of the shower naked and enticed him. You found that Lucian couldn’t say no to you, especially when it came to sex, not that you would say no to him either. 

Your fingers ran along his trademark gold chain after you slipped a robe on and walked him to the door. His kiss was a promise to come back before he left to the car waiting for him. “You’re well worth the later flight cariño (sweetheart).”

These past six months Lucian always comes back to your home. Took you out to meals and on a few trips with one overseas. 

It was new and good, your ex-husband eventually stoped taking you places and going on more business trips alone. That’s why you allowed Lucian in, at least that’s what you told yourself. It wasn’t true, you’ve always wanted Flores. At different points, you didn’t think he wanted you as more than a friend, but then you both became more to each other. Neither of you were in the best of places to make it work. 

The night you first had Lucian within you again, it was at one of your husband’s functions. He wasn’t paying attention to you again, leaving you to flutter around the room and listen to idiot financial guys talk numbers that you didn’t understand.  You don’t know why Lucian was there, but he was.

Outside, slightly cool. The air electrified your skin as he held your leg up, your hands in his fluffy hair while your bodies rekindled their connection. Lucian had you keep your panties on and watched as you walked back over to your husband. Hair slightly messy, hickey on your chest - hidden under part of your dress and the indentations on your ass and the back of your legs from the siding of the house. “Mi chica sucía (my dirty girl).” Lucian called after you before going back to the party himself, you two exchanged numbers later, things continued from there. 

Now you feel you may be trapping him. Not that he knows. Ever since that party. When are you going to tell him? It can’t wait. 

Lucian Flores wants to marry you as you are now. He won’t want you to change, what will you do?

Part One. Part Three

Cuddlers of the silk shirt: @trulybetty @rhoorl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @morallyinept @readingiskeepingmegoing

@yorksgirl @harriedandharassed @maggiemayhemnj @tinytinymenace @fhatbhabiee

@megamindsecretlair @magpiepills

[xiaosonlybeloved]

They'd be alright~ Soukoku

featuring:- Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, briefly- Fyodor, Yosano warnings:- angst, hurt no comfort, implied major character death a/n:- wheee im back from the dead with a random angst idea for my most beloved couple <3 this was written based off the events of ch 114.5 of the manga, so beware of spoilers for fyodor's ability anyways enjoy hehe <333

wc:-1.2k || part 2 || masterlists

Chuuya takes deep, exhausted breaths as he looks at the defeated form of the tripolar singularity. Verlaine is right beside him, as are Atsushi and Akutagawa. ‘We actually defeated it, huh?’ Chuuya thought, tired. There were honestly moments when he thought they wouldn’t be able to do it, but the others had his back. And he had theirs.

However, his musings are cast aside immediately when he hears a cry resound from somewhere behind. Where Dazai is.

‘Shit, dammit!’ he cursed for forgetting for even a moment as he ran towards the brunette, who was hunched on his knees near a body. It was Fyodor’s body, unmoving, face distorted the way it had been for his other body in Mersault. And lines of blue light emanated from Dazai, the way they did when he used his ability. Chuuya had a fair idea of what was happening, Dazai had warned him about this when he had hastily told him the plan he made. Chuuya didn’t like it, not one bit, but it was the only option. It was either that, or the whole of Yokohama would be destroyed, and maybe more too. 

He carefully knelt down in front of Dazai, taking hold of both his hands in his own. He felt his own ability getting nullified, but he didn’t care. Dazai’s eyes were squeezed shut, face contorted in agony. “Oi Dazai, I’m here. Can you hear me?” He only get the barest of nods as a response, but that was enough. 

Atsushi and Akutagawa had run over to him by then. “What’s happening to Dazai-san?” The weretiger asked in a panic. Chuuya began to explain as calmly as he could. “He should be alright soon… As you know, Fyodor’s ability allows him to occupy the body of whoever kills him. But since Dazai is an ability nullifier, Fyodor should be unable to get resurrected in him. Right now, I think his ability is actively trying to expel Fyodor. His ability is absolute, there are no exceptions-” Dazai’s eyes shot open.

Except that they weren’t Dazai’s. They were Fyodor’s, coupled with his smug grin.

Fear gripped his heart in an ice-cold hold. It wasn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible. 

The face of the man in front of him flickered back to being Dazai, scrunched in torment, and Chuuya exhaled in relief. 

It’s as if the two geniuses were fighting for control. Fyodor’s face flickered again, now worried. Dazai’s body was still radiating his ability. A minute passed. His face flickered a few more times. Another agonisingly long minute. Dazai stayed as Dazai. Then finally, finally, his ability’s flare up receded, the blue light slowly disappearing.

The man in front of him was still Dazai. Not Fyodor. His ability was also still being nullified to serve as further proof. That Dazai really had defeated Fyodor, both physically and mentally. The brunette took several deep breaths to ground himself, looking as weary as he felt, before he slowly blinked a few times. “...He’s gone?” 

A wide smile broke out on Chuuya’s face, the (short-lived) relief filling him, his own exhaustion vanishing for the moment. Yes, he was relieved about his ex-partner being alive, despite everything that happened, what about it? Even more surprising, he does something he’s rarely done before- He hugs Dazai. Gently, but still in a firm hold. “Yes, Dazai. Fyodor’s gone, for real. You defeated him. I’m so proud of you, mackerel.” 

“And the singularity?” He asks weakly, and Chuuya responds, “Done and dusted, don’t worry about it idiot.” He knows that Dazai can see Atsushi and Akutagawa behind him, both of whom are muttering incoherent sentences that sound reassured and thankful. Fukuzawa has also come over. He’s scolding Dazai for being so reckless with his life and doing stuff without telling any of them, but they all can hear the undertone of relief that he’s still alive. He knows that the annoying blonde and that annoyingly smug detective would be fussing over Dazai too if they were awake. Too bad they’d been knocked out by the blast from the tripolar singularity.

“Thank goodness” he muttered, then gave them all a small smile. Chuuya couldn’t help but be struck by how genuine it was. 

Yeah, they were going to be alright. Maybe not immediately, but they’d get there.

Dazai blinks slowly at them. He himself sounds a bit surprised as he says, “Oh.. sorry.” Confused, Chuuya starts to reply, “Huh? What for-”

Dazai collapses into Chuuya’s arms, motionless. (Chuuya refuses to acknowledge that for some reason, Dazai’s skin feels even colder than it usually is.)

His eyes widen as panic instantly claws its way up his throat. “Dazai? What the hell Dazai?” He’s shaking Dazai now, to no response. Someone is running towards them from a distance, but Chuuya can’t care to identify her as the Agency doctor. “Osamu, answer me, dammit!” Something in his gut tells him to press his hands to Dazai’s wrist, anxiously searching. Yosano has reached them, ordering the few panicked people awake and crowded around them to move.

Chuuya feels nothing from Dazai. Just an inexplicable coldness, growing, in contrast to his white-hot fear. (It could be explained, but he didn’t want the explanation.) 

Everything feels too silent and loud at the same time. He’s still holding tightly onto Dazai, refusing to let him go. (‘Please, god.’ he prays silently, begging. He’s never been much of a believer, but he still prays, desperate. ‘Please, don’t take him from me too. Not him.’) He doesn’t register anything until he feels his hands roughly dragged away from Dazai’s by a firm hold. A doctor’s hold. Someone was talking to him.

“-uuya, I need you to let go of him.” “No. Never.” he mumbles, voice cracking. Yosano kneels down beside him and the motionless body in his arms. There’s urgency in his eyes. “Chuuya, he can still be saved. His heart can be restarted. There is plenty of medical equipment inside the airport, we need to get him there and then move him to a better hospital. If you don’t let go of him right now, you’ll need to let go of him forever.” Her words are the harsh truth, and they cause him to loosen his hold on Dazai, still staring at the closed eyes and unmoving face framed by brown. (The thought of losing him forever was something Chuuya couldn’t bear to entertain. Not now, after so much had happened.)

He numbly lets Yosano take Dazai, getting up to follow her into the airport. Because there was no way in hell he was letting her take Dazai anywhere without him. He needed to be with him, make sure he was alright. He still had a debt to repay the bandaged mackerel after all. 

But a small, cruel part of his mind incessantly whispered, replaying Dazai’s mumbled apology, the way he seemed almost resigned when he said that, the way he slumped into Chuuya’s hold. 

That terribly cruel part of him told him that he couldn’t do anything. That he had already lost Dazai.

That he was too late.

gods writing this killed me can you tell im devastated by ch 114.5 anyways votes reblogs and comments r very appreciated and do yall want a part two to this :D

[oh-nostalgiaa]

Writing Prompt Masterlist, Part Ten

Masterlist of Writing Prompt Masterlists

The Prompts

12 Days of Smutsmas Prompts

30 Top / Dom Prompts

A Collection of Five Times Drabble Prompts

A Few Various Sentence Starter Prompts

A Random Act of Kindness Prompts

Abilities & Super-Powered Themed Prompts

Affectionate Prompts

Affection Sentence Starter Prompts

An Extremely Self-Indulgent Physical Contact / Tickly Prompt Collection

Another Kiss Prompts

Around the World in 80 Prompts

Asking for Permission Prompts

Bed & Sleepy Prompts

Caring for Sick Muses Prompts

Casual NSFW Conversation Sentence Starter Prompts

Christmas AU Prompts

Cuteness Prompts

Different Ways to Hug Someone Prompts

Dirty Talk Prompts

Distracted by the Sexy Starter Prompts

Domestic Bickering Sentence Starter Prompts

Emotional Starter Prompts (Anger)

Even More Stuff Based on Personal Experiences Prompts

Febuwhump 2024 Prompts

Fictional Kiss Things That End Me Prompts

First Meetings Prompts

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts

Fluffmas List Prompts

Fluffy & Cute Prompts

For a Lover's Reassurance Prompts

Friends with Benefits OTP Prompts

Gentle Touch Prompts

Grumpy x Sunshine Prompts

Heartbreak Prompts

Heroic Intervention Prompts

Holiday AU's for the Christmas Spirit Prompts

I Deserve Better Than This Prompts

I Love You But I Can't Say Those Words Prompts

I Miss You Dialogue Response Prompts

I Really Want to Kiss You Right Now Prompts

I'm Sorry Starter Prompts

Idiots to Lovers Romantic Starter Prompts

It's So Fluffy! Sentence Starter Prompts

January OTP Prompts

Just Like a Pillow Prompts

Kisses Prompts

Levels of Intimacy Prompts

List of AU's That Aren't Themed At All Prompts

Lyrics for Unconventional Ship Dynamics Prompts

Marriage Proposal Starter Prompts, Part One

Marriage Proposal Starter Prompts, Part Two

Miscellaneous Action Meme Prompts

Missing Them Sentence Starter Prompts

More Touch Starved Prompts

Non-sexual Acts of Affection Prompts

Non-Verbal NSFW Prompts, Part One

NSFW Muse Reaction Prompts

NSFW Sentence Starter Prompts

Oddly Specific Sensual Touches Prompts

Only One Bed Prompts

Pinned Against a Wall Prompts

Powerful Prompts

Prompt List, Fluff Edition

Prompts for Fake Dating & Going Undercover

Prompts That Hit in All the Right Places

Question Sentence Starter Prompts

Random Sentence Starter Prompts

Random Settings Prompts

Reassurance Starter Prompts

Sacred Romantic Moments Prompts

Sacrifices Sentence Starter Prompts

Setting Prompts

Sexual Sounds, Words, & Actions Prompts

Sexual Tension / Attraction Prompts

Smut NSFW Starter Prompts

Smut Oneliner Prompts

Smut Starters & Symbols Prompts

Smutty One-Liners Part VI Prompts

Soft Action Prompts

Soft Fic Prompts

Soulmate & Significant Connection AU Prompts

Spots to Kiss Prompts

Starters for Quiet Muses Prompts

Stoic x Cheerful First Kiss Prompts

Sweet and Intimate Actions Which Make Me Go Feral and Have Me Folding Like a Folding Chair Prompts

The Enormity of My Desire Prompts

The Five Senses Starter Prompts

The Intimacy of Hands Prompts

The Sweet, Early Morning Things Prompts

Things You Said Prompts

Touch Starved Prompts

Touching Tenderly Prompts

Undercover Sentence Starter Prompts

Underrated Affectionate Gestures Prompts

Unspoken Fluff Starter Prompts, Part 2

Violent Starter Prompts

What We Almost Had Starter Prompts

Wisdom Teeth Removal AU Prompts

Would You ... ? Prompts

[leosficlist]

Johnlock Fluff Rec List 6!

As always, these are the warmest, lightest, fluffiest fics in my bookmarks. Most of these are getting together fics, as most of my blog is.

Fluff 1, Fluff 2, Fluff 3, Fluff 4 , Fluff 5

How to Survive (When There's a Me and a You) by MirabileLectu @mirabilelectu 4.2k words

The explosion that came from the kitchen really shouldn’t have surprised John all that much, but if two years of living with Sherlock should have taught him anything by now it would be to never make assumptions he wasn't ready to have proven wrong.

notes: Sherlock gets hurt during an experiment, hurt/comfort, love confessions, calling him "love"

Risk by Spark_Writer 3.9k words

It doesn’t make sense, so John googles it.

An infatuation lasts an average of 4 months. Once it’s exceeded that, you’re already in love.

A curse—soft, albeit heartfelt—escapes him. He puts his head in his palms; exhales.

notes: fluff, both falling in love but not knowing what to do about it

The Five Times Sherlock Held John by Dark3Star 2.8k

... and the one time John held Sherlock. OR, The five times John saw and the one time he observed.

notes: sweet, short tale of times Sherlock comforted John

And In Your Arms I Figured Us Out by eragon19 @loveinthemindpalace 2.8k

John had figured it out ages ago, but it takes a chase through an airport, an overly cheerful EMT and a trip to the hospital for John to finally do something about it.

notes: fluff, hurt/comfort

On a Miserable Winter's Eve by belovedmuerto @belovedmuerto1.1k

John comes home to an empty flat. He falls asleep on the couch.

Stolen Kisses by ofsummerstars 6.1k

Sherlock takes it upon himself to kiss John at seemingly random moments, leaving John to decipher what this newfound affection means.

notes: together before they realize it

A Mirror Image by IntoTheSkyUntil 2.9k

Sherlock learns how to kiss the same way that he's learned how to give a compliment or say thank you: by mirroring John Watson. Shameless, shameless fluff.

Never Knew by smutmuffin 1.4k words

Written for auburnbatch, who won my promo giveaway and asked for a fic with Johnlock cuddles and some kissing on the sofa. The prompt included Mycroft saying something that hurt Sherlock and John snuggling him to make him feel better. My muse ran away with this and demanded a first kiss / friends to lovers scenario. (who am I to argue).

Fluff by loveanddeathandartandtaxes 535 words

At first, John wonders if there's something wrong with their washing machine or dryer. Then he wonders if it's his eyesight that's going.

Now by stopthat 1.2k words

John has only caught glimpses of it before.  He’s seen flashes of it, in Sherlock’s less guarded moments, only to doubt it all completely once it’s been carefully shuttered away. But Sherlock is not hiding now.

A Lifetime Together by LondonSpirit 8.8k words

John and Sherlock falling in love.

notes: a bite sized slowburn, lovely and heartfelt

Alright by evesbeve 4.1k words

Sherlock knows it's selfish to want John to take care of him, but it's entirely John's fault for offering to dry Sherlock's hair. After all, that's what flatmates are for... Right?

A Study in Paws by Strange_johnlock 6.5k words

"What do you need the milk for?” “I don’t need it. The kittens do.” As if they knew they were being talked about, the quiet room is filled with high pitched, tiny meows. John is right next to Sherlock within a few steps, and there, on his chair in a small box, are three of the tiniest kittens he has ever seen.

3 Kittens move into 221B. It's as simple as that. Oh, and John and Sherlock are in love, but they are also idiots.

notes: fluff for fluffs sake