#Goodbye: Life Comedy of Starting From a Lie

[archerarchives]

Winner Takes it All

Slater x Fem Reader x Sterling Archer

Your ex-husband isn't thrilled to hear about your latest romantic connection.

(It's more about Slater than Archer.)

Drama, Smut, Comedy, Story-Driven.

TWs: !!Smut!! And maybe a lil angst, jealousy, physical violence, drunk sex, long read, not proofread, this is not a 3-way fic, sorry! They're just both gettin' bounced on!

You've just moved cities for a new, low-profile job with a well-known spy agency, ISIS. It's a change of scenery where you can still use the specialized skills you've honed over the years at your old job. The CIA was a prolific time in your career, but with your divorce newly finalized after a long, messy process, you're ready to uproot your life and start over somewhere.

Finding this job was something of fate in itself. You were drinking your thoughts away in a shabby pub on a mission in Ireland when a man, just as wasted as you, came crashing through the door, spouting off at the mouth about "top secret agent" this, "classified mission" that. Even at your drunkest, you've never compromised yourself in such a way. All's well, though, as it ended with a job offer and a very interesting hook-up.

Try as you may, you can't escape the memories of that first sexual rendezvous after a lengthy legal battle. Your cheeks redden with warmth as you remember the way he bent you over, sliding his hands up your spine as he guided your hips against his waist.

You giggle to yourself as your stomach flips. All this time seeing him in a professional setting feels silly, considering his drunken personality when you first met him. You're certainly not in love, nor are you looking for it. It's just nice to explore without moral compromise.

Working with ISIS is a dream, not to mention getting to step out with Archer to fuck in a supply closet nearly hourly. The scandal of sneaking around only adds to the fun.

Your marriage was just as passionate for years, but with that came an explosiveness that working together at the CIA ultimately killed. No time apart, you smothered each other until it felt like there weren't any feelings to save.

Keeping things light with Archer has been easy, considering if he's not fucking you, then he's definitely off fucking someone else. Often other members of the agency. It is vehemently not love, and you love that.

One day, after months of casual hookups, Archer mentions something about taking you to dinner. An awkward silence falls over the two of you as you lie naked in his bed. "It's not that I don't want to, I just," you search hard for your next words.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I just figured I owed you after, you know, all this." He gestures to your whole body.

"You don't owe me anything, handsome. It's a pretty equal exchange if you ask me." You wink at him, slipping away from his possessive grip so you can get dressed.

"By the way, don't tell Mother I told you, but we've got some CIA agents coming in on Monday. I'm not sure what for. Apparently, none of us are supposed to know." Archer's clearly looking for any way to change the subject after his invite went wrong.

"CIA? Did you happen to get their names?" You ask, with a lump in your throat.

"No, but they can't be much worse than those other two dick heads." Archer settles back against his headboard, covered by nothing but blankets up to his waist. His chiseled body shines in the sunlight like a painting. You almost hesitate to leave, but after that awkward date denial, you want to get far, far away. It's not all his fault, he has no idea about your situation.

"Sounds like fun. I'll see you there, princess." You chuckle, lingering in the doorway.

"For the last time, it's Duchess. And we don't get to choose our code names!" His spiral makes you laugh as you wave goodbye and head out his bedroom door. His valet, an elderly man called Woodhouse, always meets you at the door to send you off. You smile warmly at him as you make your way to your car.

~~~Monday Morning

"Good morning, Pam," you yawn, stepping off the elevator. She waves a tired hello to you and you make your way toward your office. After a small window of time, Archer knocks at your door, right on schedule. You both slip down the hall and meet up in one of your trusty 'spots.' You've opted for the supply closet yet again.

Archer pulls you inside with him, hungrily grabbing at your breasts and roughly fidgeting with your buttoned-up blouse. You let out a giggle, a bit louder than you mean to, but you quickly quiet back down. He grins at the sight of your breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

"Oh, my God," he breathes into your neck, positioning himself right against you. "I'll never get tired of this." He slips inside of you with ease. A low, breathy moan escapes his lips as he reaches his hilt. From there, he's thrusting into you rhythmically, gripping your hips while you prop yourself against the shelves of dusty cleaning products.

Archer's fingertips dig into your skin as he lifts you off the ground for a better angle. Each delicate moan that escapes your lips is met with a sensual sound of his own or a passionate kiss on your lips to silence you. He places a firm, but gentle hand around your neck as he picks up his pace.

"Harder," you whisper against his broad chest and he's happy to oblige. At this point, you hardly care what can and can't be heard outside the closet. "Harder." And he complies, slamming into you with a force that'd tell a stranger he must hate you.

A knot begins to form in your stomach, growing tighter as you near your orgasm. He's moaning your name into your ear, sending your eyes rolling back every time he opens his mouth. You're doing all you can to keep it together, and just when you finally give, he pulls out and finishes on your chest, careful to keep aim on your exposed skin.

Your blue-eyed hookup helps you clean up and you realize there's yet another awkward silence as he lingers for a little longer than usual in the closet, just looking at you. "Wow," he sighs.

"You weren't too bad yourself, handsome," you wink, playfully tapping his chest with your palm. Once you've both steadied your breathing, he leaves first, scoping out the hallway, careful to give a cough or some sort of signal if someone's around. It's silent. You give it a few minutes and then you step out as well.

"Y/N!" A painfully familiar voice calls your name from the opposite end of the otherwise empty hallway. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Slater?" You knew it, you just wanted to believe it could've been anyone else. "Are you asking what I'm doing or what I'm doing here?"

"Well," he's stumped. "Both, I guess. Did you just fuck Archer in that closet?" He sounds equal parts disturbed and livid.

"I work here now. And that's really none of your business anymore." You cross your arms defensively.

"Trust me, Y/N, you don't want-"

"Stop telling me what I do and don't want. Don't we have a meeting or something?" You stomp off, not allowing his ability to set you off cost you this new job.

Archer and the other agents have already been in the meeting. You're late and if you weren't on Malory's good side, you know she'd have something to say about it. Instead, she just gives you a sharp look, and you take the warning for the golden ticket it is. You take a quiet seat near the group and tune into whatever the other CIA agent is explaining.

It's tedious, tiresome, and boring. Some of the staff are falling asleep while others are zoning out altogether. Archer's distracted and his disruption goes unchecked as he messes around with an Operation game.

Suddenly, the door slings open and Slater angrily crosses the floor. Most of the room falls silent, besides Archer, who is still playing with the toy. Slater reaches his desk and slaps the game out of his hands, causing others around them to gasp in surprise.

"Are you fucking my wife?" Slater yells lividly through gritted teeth, placing one hand on the desk surface to stop himself from swinging at the ISIS agent.

"What?" Archer's surprise quickly turns to amusement. "No, I'm screwing-"

"I'm not your wife anymore, Slater!" You scold from across the way. The room fills with sounds of confused shock, but no one's as wide-eyed as Archer.

"You're married to this douchebag?" Your dark-haired situationship points to Slater.

"Not anymore!" You toss your hands up defensively. "Our divorce is finalized. What Sterling and I do-" you're cut off.

"Sterling?" Slater erupts at the intimate comfortability between you and Archer. Unhinged, Slater grabs the front of Archer's suit and lands a solid punch to the face. His biceps flex intensely under his casual T-shirt as he tightens his grip for another swing.

Now Slater and Archer are in an all-out brawl. The desks of the lecture room are knocked into disarray as the two men toss each other around. Cyril and Ray both try to intervene, but it's pointless. Archer, as usual, takes nothing seriously. He's almost laughing and probably would be if he wasn't ever so slightly losing the fight.

"Enough!" Malory throws a glass of cognac so hard, it slams against the wall right between both men's heads.

"Mother!" Archer looks distressed by her close quarters warning.

"If you two don't stop this childish nonsense this very minute I'll have you both sent wherever the hell I want for treason." Her threat is grand, but it's clear she means it.

"Look, fuck you, but she'll actually do that," Archer speaks with his eyes narrowed at his rival. Slater sighs, glaring at Archer for just a moment more before finally releasing his suit jacket.

"Good," Malory relaxes, somehow already equipped with another freshly poured glass of cognac. She redirects everyone's attention back to the boring speaker from before. "Now, you were saying?"

~~~After Work, at Your House

"That's not what I'm saying!" Slater yells, an all too familiar sound. One you thought you'd gotten rid of.

"Then what are you saying?" You toss your arms up in frustration. "Because from here, it's sounding like you're telling me who I can and can't be with. We aren't married anymore!" That last sentence seems to piss him off, or at least hurt him. He closes his eyes and furrows his brows, trying to find it in himself to calm down. Something he's never tried to do before.

"I know we're not married anymore, but seriously? Him?" He shakes his head. "And why move? Why leave the CIA?"

"Are you kidding me?" You ask, utterly shocked by the question. "This is why! This tantrum you're throwing as if you haven't been enjoying your own freedoms even before the divorce was finalized!" The truth causes Slater to avert his eyes. It's true, he was living his own bachelor lifestyle quite early on in the process.

"It's just," he takes a deep breath. "Could it be anyone else?"

"You act like I'm in love with the guy." You laugh. "I'm just trying to feel something."

"Oh yeah? Does he know that?"

"Of course he does!" You knit your brows. "Have you met the guy? I'm not exactly at the top of his roster."

"His people said he hasn't strayed outside your little meetings for at least two weeks. That's like a year for him." Slater crosses his arms.

"Two weeks, huh?" You take a seat at your table. Slater sits right across from you. You do the math and realize you've only been working at ISIS for about a month.

"Two weeks. Not even Agent Kane had him down that long."

"Agent Kane? Lana? Do they have that kind of history?" You ask. It's clear to anyone that they've fucked, but you had no idea what their history entailed until Slater filled you in.

"You have no idea what this guy's about, huh?" He asks, smugly.

"I don't. And I don't care. I'm not stepping on any toes and I certainly don't owe you anything." You wrangle any corner of your face that may show discomfort, adamant to not let him know he got into your head. "I think you should go. I have work in the morning."

"Oh, I know. You and I will be working very closely for a while. Just like old times." He sounds sickly sweet as he heads for your door, like you asked. Just before he leaves, he hesitates, almost like he intends to speak, but he doesn't. He doesn't look back at you or anything. He just finally exits and a cold silence follows in his place.

"Fuck," you huff.

~~~The Next Day, in The Lecture Room

"Psst," Archer garners your attention.

"What?" You whisper and he passes you a note like you're two kids in school. It reads: 'My office, 2 PM.' You stifle the smirk blossoming on your lips. Then, before you have time to blink, the note is snatched from your hand by Slater, playing the role of the bitch teacher. After that, there are suddenly mandatory training exercises being held for certain agents at certain times. You've been lovingly gifted the time slot of 1:50 PM to 2:50 PM with Archer going right after you.

While each agent waits, you spend time at Cheryl's desk with her and Pam. A little gossip to speed things along. Pam doesn't hold back in the slightest, diving right in as soon as you sit down.

"So were you Y/N Slater or...?" Cheryl wrinkles her nose, asking a question far less invasive than Pam's.

"I kept my last name. I didn't know how to navigate that either." You shrug.

"Okay, but this divorce is recent, right?" Pam redirects the conversation.

"Recent for a divorce, sure. But we've been separated for over a year."

"A whole year of working with your ex-husband at the CIA?" The round-faced blonde raises her eyebrows.

"There's a reason I jumped at this opportunity, Pam." You tilt your head forward, widening your eyes at her. A look that says, 'Don't even ask.'

"Mrs. Slater..." Cheryl repeats to herself. "Nope, doesn't have a good ring to it."

"Sure doesn't!" You exclaim, holding up your left hand and wiggling your bare ring finger. Right on cue, Slater approaches you where you sit in front of Cheryl's desk. She and Pam both excuse themselves to eavesdrop from a few feet away.

"Ready for some assistance training Agent Y/L/N?" He asks, a bitterness already biting in his voice.

"Absolutely, Agent Slater." You give a false sense of enthusiasm. "Anything to get you out of here faster."

"Then right this way," he gestures for the elevator. The firing range is on an entirely different level, and something about the usually short lift ride is excruciatingly long today. You stand next to each other uncomfortably for a while before you finally glance over at him. He doesn't look at you, but you get a good look at his chest and crossed arms. His seemingly permanent angry expression etched lightly into his features. "Like what you see?" He asks, smirking smugly.

"Shut up," you snap, facing forward and silently scolding yourself for being so quick to nearly forget why you left him in the first place. Finally, the elevator doors open to the shooting range lobby. It's empty until you and Slater step out of the elevator. After checking your weapons and loading up on ammunition, it's time to start shooting.

You've always been a pretty solid shot. These exercises don't meet your skill. You'd do better to practice with a course, but that's not an option right now. "Two in the head, one in the chest," Slater says, and you don't think twice about what he's talking about. You fire the three bullets you were instructed to fire. This goes on for a while and you begin to think an hour of this might not be so bad.

"Oh, hey. I was thinking, why not make this a group effort and save some time?" Archer, seemingly drunk, appears in the soundproofed doorway of the shooting range.

"Agent Archer, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." Slater smiles deviously as he shoves him back and slams the door. Once it's locked, he turns his attention to you. You missed the whole ordeal due to the quality of your ear protection. You didn't see or hear Archer's impromptu class suggestion or it's brutal rejection.

"Are we done?" You ask, assuming that's what he's come to tell you when he lifts the earmuff off your head.

"No," he shakes his head. "Your form is a little off." His comment makes you arch your brows.

"No it's not."

"Yes, it is. Here." Slater takes your arms and guides them up to point your gun at the target. With his body pressed against yours, he wraps your hands around the firearm and "shows" you the proper form. It's no different from how you were just standing, and you know that, but that's not the point. The point is, now he's flush against your body and you can feel his heartbeat in the heat radiating off his chest.

"Slater, come on. What are you doing?" You try your best to sound serious, but you fail. He takes the gun from your hand and places it on the counter before slipping off your ear protection and setting it to the side as well. You're still standing with your back to him, and he leans in to whisper.

"Why don't you show me how good your form is?" He slips his hands into your hair, pulling it back gently like a ponytail before suddenly wrapping one hand up and roughly pulling your head back so he can plant a heinous love bite on your neck. You let out a breathy moan as your eyes slip back into your head. This is why it took so long to get away. If it wasn't an argument that had you nearly throwing chairs, then it was this.

"I can't... Or rather, I don't want to."

"You don't owe him anything. He's drunk right now, probably already fucking someone else in a different tiny, filthy closet." His grip on your hair tightens. "Haven't you missed me? Just a little?" The raspy nature of his voice vibrates into his chest that's pressed up against your back. Your skin erupts into chill bumps as his grip loosens and then tightens back up again when he doesn't get an answer fast enough.

"Slater," you pull away, finally. Much to your disappointment. Listen. Regardless of Archer, you know this isn't a good idea." You straighten up your appearance and calm your reddened cheeks. "Training's over," you say as you speed walk out the door.

At the end of the day, you're back at your place, freshly walking through the door after a stressful day at the office. Who'd have guessed Slater would make an appearance so soon in your journey to figuring out the single life? Who'd have known how absolutely unprepared you were for it?

After a few drinks, at-home vodka cranberries with far too much vodka to cran, you stare at your cellphone. All of you wants to call Slater and cave as quickly as you turned him down earlier. You shake the thought from your mind, scanning through your contacts for Archer. You stare at the number for a moment, recalling his dinner invitation.

You wonder if it was really meant to be a "repayment" of your promiscuous meetings. It felt far too personal, though. So personal, you sit with his number pulled up for another twenty minutes before ultimately hitting the red button, and clearing out all the information. Slater's presence has thrown your entire dynamic through a loop and it's pissing you off. Defiantly, you dial Archer's number.

Your stomach ties in knots as imagine what kind of mental strain this may put on him. To know you don't want anything more than an orgasm to get your mind off of the divorce. Surely he understands, right? It's not like he's the sentimental type.

"Hello?" A voice on the other end of the phone doesn't match the contact dialed. It's a woman and she's clearly wasted.

"Um, Archer?"

"Oh, he's kind of-" The next part of the sentence is clouded with laughter and the scuffling sound of a phone being dropped. Finally the call ends. An intense wave of relief washes over you. Thank God, you think to yourself. The relief is short-lived as you realize you've lost your lover for the night. You consider a trip to the bar, but it feels too desperate. That's when your phone begins to ring.

You stare at the screen. Slater's name flashes on the small device and you roll your eyes, sighing heavily. Already preparing for the mental toll this is about to take on you.

"Hello?" You answer on the last ring.

"Hey," he starts. "I just wanted to call and um, apologize." He sounds agonized by his own words. An ego check he never asked for.

"Apologize? For what?" You ask with a giggle.

"My behavior today was... Less than professional. I shouldn't have put you in a situation like that." It's as if this apology is being forced out of him at gunpoint, but you're appreciative of the effort.

"Thanks, Slater." You roll your eyes, still chucking.

"Are you uh- You alone tonight?" He asks, hesitantly.

"Yes, but not by choice. It seems someone else has made their way to my benefit's bed." You laugh. "I'm having wine and watching that show I like."

"What kind of wine?" Slater asks. You roll your eyes. He's always done this when he wants attention. Just sparking up a conversation about any and everything.

"Oh, you know, the cheap stuff." You shrug. Slater's unmistakable laughter crackles through the line.

"You love cheap thrills," he sighs with a smile. Silence falls over the conversation for just a moment before his voice rings through the phone one more time. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Slater, I-" but you're cut off by the telltale sign of being hung up on. You groan, tossing your phone across the room and letting it softly land on a fainting couch on the other side of the room. You rub your temples, silently venting about the man you've spent all this time trying to escape. Not due to any kind of fear, but simply because you know it's not ever meant to work.

An hour or so passes since you've changed into a sill nightgown and settled in for the night. You even consider digging out your weed stash and rolling a joint in the peace and quiet. You're halfway through the process (didn't have to twist your arm) when there's a knock at the door. Three soft knocks. Instinctively, you dismiss your buzz with sheer willpower. You glance at the clock. It's late, too late for visitors. Gripping the neck of your wine bottle, you stealthily make your way to the door.

Knock, knock, knock. Again. You don't jump, you hardly react at all. Nothing but a blink. Taking your place tactfully, standing right next to the door, you begin to slowly lean in toward the peephole. Just before you catch a glance, you hear a sound outside. A sigh. "Oh, Jesus Christ," you nearly melt with relief.

You open the door, pale in the face. All you could imagine was the CIA taking back their word and sending someone to take you out in the middle of the night in your own home.

"What the hell?" Your ex-husband stands before you with something in his hand.

"God damn it, Slater," you sigh. "What's up?"

"You said you were drinking the cheap stuff, so brought you a bottle of Château Calon-Ségur," he says, eyeballing the bottle in your hand meant to be a weapon. "But I'm now realizing this is the cheap stuff."

"The pay at ISIS isn't too shabby." You shrug. A second of silence passes between you two before you finally step out of the way and invite him inside. He nods a thanks at you and takes a hard look around your home. His eyes narrow at the lack of evidence of ever having a life with him. It's just a staged house of anything that isn't from or about him.

"Nice place you got," he says, stifling any other comments he wants to make.

"Thank you. I figured you'd have something shitty to say." You laugh, raising your eyebrows in surprise at his lack of insult.

"Not a lot of pictures," he tosses.

"I don't have any to hang yet," you arch an eyebrow at him.

"Right," he says, recalling the endless amount of photographs of you two he still has in his attic. "You seem happy. You look," he leans back, shaking his head with a sly smile. "Great."

"Yeah?" You smile politely. You know you look great. You've done nothing but glow since the papers were very first served. It's then that you notice the scent of his cologne. A decade of forgotten feelings comes flooding back, and as aware as you are that it's the wine, you can't help the redness flushing your face. And that's all it takes, just like that, he knows he's in.

Slater crosses the living room and takes a place on the couch next to you. "What's all this?" He asks, gesturing to your half-rolled joint. "I thought pot was illegal around here," he chuckles, finishing the joint and lighting it.

"It's decriminalized, but I still usually step outside before lighting it."

"Whoops," he responds flatly, bringing the joint to his lips as he lies back on the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. You pass the joint back and forth until you're both in a haze, surrounded by lingering clouds of smoke. The TV plays a Western, and though you're both staring at the screen, it feels like you're focused on each other. Each stealing eye glances at the other.

"Wine?" You ask, breaking the comfortable silence. He nods and you disappear to grab another glass. In the kitchen, you can feel the moment of his hands running through your hair, pulling it back, and whispering in your ear the other day. Chills run up your spine. Quickly, you return to your ex in the living room. He's sitting up a bit straighter now. After pouring him a glass, you join him on the couch.

He'd be a piss-poor agent if he didn't notice how much closer you sat to him upon your return. He can't help himself. "You know, your little friend with benefits was getting pretty friendly with some escorts in a casino tonight." You roll your eyes.

"My God, Slater. Are you just stalking everybody now?" You laugh, shifting a bit away from him. "Besides, I already know. He was supposed to come over tonight, but he seemed a little busy." Slater's eyebrows narrow.

"So sorry you had to settle for me," he smirks.

"I didn't. You just showed up." You eyeball him as you sip your wine. "And that begs the question; What do you think would've happened if you showed up while I was reaping the benefits?"

"Ugh," Slater shakes his head. "I don't want to think about it." He's laughing, but the boiling in his blood is as present as ever when he thinks about you with that secret agent idiot. His "casual" grip on the back cushions of the couch ignites his knuckles white. "God, do you live to get a rise out of me?"

"What do you mean? I didn't even invite you here." You look around the room as if to look for who might've invited him, sending the message that there is, in fact, no one. He invited himself.

"Y/N, look. I know the divorce is finalized. I understand I don't really have a leg to stand on."

"Oh, god. No, please stop."

"Will you just hear me out?"

"I really don't want to." You look at him, eyebrows turned up. "That sounds like some really heavy stuff and I'm really high." Slater sighs with defeat.

"Fair enough."

"Why'd you come over tonight?" You ask, curious and figuring it can't hurt seeing as he already made things tense.

"Ya' know, I don't really know."

"Really? No cheesy monologue about missing me?" You laugh. He used to try too hard. Always phoning it in. No substance.

"Oh, please." His eyes narrow. "Like you haven't been thinking of my hands in your hair all evening." His bold statement causes you to nearly choke on your sip of wine. Slater's chuckling at you, looking pleased with himself.

"You're insufferable," you scoff and his giggle erupts into laughter.

"You're so much easier to read off the clock." Slater leans forward and toys with his glass for a moment before downing its contents in one swallow. The tension between you is palpable as you refill his glass, not once spilling a drop and maintaining eye contact the entire time.

You hardly realize how close you are to him when you return the glass to his hand. Your palm flattens against his broad, solid chest. You've unintentionally pushed the two of you into a lounging position where you lie on top of him, staring down into his eyes as they scan your face.

You want to tear his clothes off and climb him like a tree, but you're preoccupied by the possible repercussions. You ball up your fist on his chest and release a frustrated sigh before creating a gap between you once again. You're sitting up, but Slater is still lying down, looking confused.

"Whoa, what happened?" He holds his empty arms out like he doesn't understand how you got away.

"I don't want to be shitty to you, but," you swallow the awkwardness down. "I don't want to create a dialogue that isn't there."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?"

"I'm not interested in fixing things, Slater."

"Fixing things? Y/N, sweetheart, we had a good run." He sits up. "But I'm not trying to marry you again. I hardly like you."

"Bitch."

"But if you're gonna be sleeping around anyways, you might as well give me a call sometime."

"Jesus Christ. I'm not just handing it out like a prayer pamphlet," you say, crossing your arms.

"Never said you were," he arches his brows, annoyed that his own words aren't landing correctly.

"You very much implied it."

"Of course, you're gonna do this. You always do this." He begins to shift like he's planning to stand and leave. You can't tell if that's what you want or not.

"Do what? You just came over and told me if I'm gonna be a whore, I might as well include you in my whoring."

"No one called you a whore, Y/N!" He runs a hand through his pushed-back hair and groans with impatience. Finally, he stands and so do you. "Look, I'll just let you get back to smoking pot and drinking while your Mama's boy boyfriend has sex with a bunch of hookers."

"What the fuck is your problem?" You raise your voice. "And that's not what they're called anymore. They're sex workers." He rubs his temples.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Y/N."

"Oh, fuck you. You're the reason this is so hard to navigate. You made that divorce as difficult as possible at every turn!" You shove a finger into his chest.

"Because years ago, when I was fucking stupid, I didn't want to lose you!" The confession is too heavy. Too sweet. Too real. You hate it.

"Lower your God damn eye brows when you're talking to me." You push away the sentimental nonsense and Slater notices right away.

"I don't love you anymore, Y/N. We're both over it."

"Then why the hell did Archer make you so angry? You beat him up in front of his own mother."

"I don't know. Still a little protective, I guess." He begins to cool down. After a criminally short moment of silence, Slater sighs and rolls his eyes before closing the gap between you and crashing his lips into yours.

Everything in you screams fucking finally! But instead, you wrap your arms around him and deepen the kiss. He starts to lead you to your bedroom, but once he realizes he has no idea where it is, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him. It's an easy stroll to the couch where he drops you onto the cushions and makes quick work of removing your nightgown.

You glow beneath him. His eyes study your exposed form like he couldn't see until he saw you. One hand grips at the curves of your waist, and the other squeezes your breast through your bra. A breathy moan slips from your lips like a sigh. All feelings aside, it's as if your flesh missed each other.

Slater's breathing is heavy as he drinks in the image of you beneath him. All those years together, but neither of you has felt like this since the very beginning. Back when it was just harmless fun in an empty office at work.

You tug his shirt up and over his head before resuming the sloppy kiss. After unfastening his belt, you begin to unhook your bra, but his hands stop you. You erupt into chill bumps as his fingers trail up your back and effortlessly flick the clasps undone. It's one part the alcohol and one part the history, but you're nearly breathless with anticipation.

"God damn," he huffs.

"I know, right?" You smirk. He shakes his head with a chuckle, burying his face in your neck and biting down softly, but firmly. You gasp as his teeth drag over your skin. He strokes himself a few times, looming over you with sparkling, dark eyes. His free hand pushes a stray piece of hair back from his face. You wait with bated breath as he slowly pushes himself against your sensitive clit.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss this," Slater sighs before slowly sliding into you. You release a low, sultry moan as he grinds himself against you. He pulls your legs up so that they're hooked up over his shoulders, giving him all the angles he needs to thrust himself entirely into you. His movements are rhythmic and steady as he savors every inch of you he can reach.

"Oh, my God!" You gasp, earning a pussy-throbbing smirk from the man inside you.

"Don't get the cops called again," he chuckles, still thrusting. He's speaking about a time during your marriage when he fucked you so well that your moans and screams not only woke but concerned the neighbors.

"Fuck you," you huff, speaking between the slamming of your pelvises against each other.

"It's what you needed," he winks, picking up his pace. He's broad, strong, and well-endowed. It's hard to compare anyone to the feeling of being with him. It's like fucking a really sexy brick wall.

After an eternity of him slamming into you, legs tossed over his shoulders like a ragdoll, he pulls out. You gasp at the sudden absence. "Why don't you show me that ass, sweetheart?" He says, his voice is taunting and dominant. You do exactly as he says, turning over and arching your back to put on a bit of a show. Nothing he's never seen before, but you'd hardly be able to tell by his reaction.

Slater grips both your hips with his open palms, hooking his fingertips into your soft flesh as he pulls you back against him with each thrust. He tosses his head back in ecstasy. "Oh, fuck," he sighs with heavy breaths. You wrap your arms around the throw pillows, hoping for some sort of leverage against the harsh bucking. He raises a hand and playfully slaps your ass, earning a light squeal of excitement from you.

Just when you don't think you can process anything else, he slides a hand up your spine and wraps it in your hair. With each desperate slam into you, he pulls tighter. At some point, he releases your hips and your hair is the only handle for leverage he has, using it to pull your body to meet his as he thrusts as far as possible inside you. It just happens to be pretty goddamn far.

"Have your fun, Y/N," he huffs, voice raspier than usual. "Fuck whoever you want. I don't care." The sound of him sliding in and out of you has evolved to loud, wet echoes. "You're always gonna be mine." He picks up his pace yet again, slowly losing his rhythm as his flesh slaps against yours.

You can't argue. You know he's not wrong. Sure, neither of you cares so much for the marriage aspect, but you know you'll be right back in this situation a million more times before you're ever truly done. For the last time, you're working toward another orgasm when he quickens his thrusts and with one final slam against you, he withdraws and finishes on your displayed ass.

Breathless, Slater slinks backward into the couch and you collapse where you are, flattening out on the other end of the couch. You flinch as he cleans you up, leaving you with a playful smack.

"God damn, Slater," you sigh, eyes still threatening to roll backward.

"Better than your Mama's boy?" He asks between breaths.

"I don't know. I think I need to run a few experiments first." You grin, flushed in the face.

"Fuck you."

*****

Author's Note:

I wrote this entire story based on one glance at that GIF and I can't even remember what episode that is or what's actually happening there.

Update: I watched the episode and I love the handsome cartoon men. That's all. (I love the women too, but I objectify men.)

[kimvvantae]

the misadventures list; 5 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: toxic parents. brief mentions of homofobia. alcohol consumption. explicit sexual content (semi-public sex, oral m&f receiving, throat fucking, unprotected sex, praise kink kinda, cum play, dirty talk). made-up celebrities. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 20k

A/N: i can't thank you guys enough for waiting for this update! i know it's been a while but i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!! as always, feedback is MUCH appreciated <3

➜  Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

« playlist »

It’s almost 6PM.

Jimin is not happy about it.

The change in his expression as he checks the hour on his phone is subtle, but you see it as clear as day. The smile that remained on his lips and vanished from his eyes. He sighs, putting the phone inside his back pocket, and goes back to saying his goodbyes to everyone at the pier.

It makes you forget for a second that you were in the process of saving your own number on Jane’s phone.

You look down once again, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Damn. You weren’t supposed to be making friends. Jane is the lesser problem right here - she doesn’t know anyone from Jimin’s family except Jimin himself. The problem is that many of Jungkook’s friends are Jimin’s, too, and they asked for your number or your Instagram. Which, sure, isn’t that big of a deal and isn’t something unpredictable either, but hey, your purpose here is to pretend for just three days. You’re supposed to vanish from Jimin’s life right after it’s over. “Vanishing” doesn’t include making friends with his friends.

“What? You forgot your number?” Jane asks, eyeing you. She’s so drunk that it’s obvious that she’s not seeing you really. 

“Yeah, I’m… a little dizzy.” You chuckle awkwardly. That’s a lie, though - you’re not drunk in the slightest. As soon as you noticed that alcohol was making you act weird, you stopped with the cocktails and drank as much water as possible to dissipate it from your system (so much pee). Going to the Park’s private concert drunk is out of question.

Giving in, you type your real number on her phone and hand it back to her. Jane smiles.

“I’m so glad that we met, Y/N! You’re such a great person! For real, like, you have a nice vibe!” Jane says excitedly. Yeah, definitely drunk. “We should meet again before the trip is over!”

It won’t be possible, of course. You’re not free to do whatever you want. But you nod anyway, hoping she won’t remember anything later. “Sure, let’s go out!”

Your little chat is interrupted by Jungkook calling everyone for a group photo. As soon as everyone starts gathering in a spot, you feel Jimin’s hand resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His grip is warm and gentle and heat spreads from the spot he touches. His hair is kind of a mess right now, yet he still manages to look cute. Jimin doesn’t say anything, just sends you a small smile before posing for the camera.

A few clicks later, he leans over to say quietly in your ear: “We really have to go now.”

You nod. Both of you still have to get ready for the concert in a few hours. As Jimin explained, up until now, only his parents’ closest friends arrived; tonight, though, is when the real people will arrive. Not causing a good impression on them is not an option.

You start to make your way out of there, in the midst of saying goodbye to the people you walk past (consciously ignoring the vultures that were around Jimin, though. You ain’t acting nice to them at all). As you both walk past Jungkook, Jimin puts his hand over the younger’s shoulder and sends him a warning gaze. 

“You better sober up,” he says. Jungkook only opens a carefree smirk in response.

“C’mon, I’m not even that drunk yet. Don’t worry.” You’re not so sure about that, though; there’s something kind of psychotic about his silly smile. “See you guys later!”

Instead of arguing, Jimin just sighs.

And finally, you’re walking away from the pier.

It’s quieter now, which honestly is such a relief. The temperature started to cool down a bit. The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon line, yet the sky is still clear, painted in beautiful shades of orange, yellow and pink. You just walk in silence, hands behind your back, feeling a little funny. Since you stayed a long time in the water, it feels as if your body is still floating. It’s been a while since you felt this way.

“Jimin, I wanted to ask you a question…” you say quietly after a while.

After not getting a response, you frown and look around. Jimin isn’t beside you.

He’s a few steps behind, holding his phone to eye level.

“What are you doing?”

Jimin smiles. “Registering the moment.”

You quirk one eyebrow up and walk back to where he stands, a little bit confused. Jimin lets you see his phone for a second.

Your jaw drops.

You stand at the very center of the photo he took, your back turned to him, hair swaying with the wind. The beautiful sight of the evening sky serves as an astonishing background, the last beams of sunlight framing your figure beautifully. It’s breathtaking. He made such a trivial moment become something incredible with a single shot.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, astonished, making Jimin chuckle. “You’ll send me this, right? This has to go on my Instagram feed!”

“Nope.” He says in a cocky manner, sticking his phone to his chest so you can't see it anymore. “I’m gatekeeping this one.”

“Aw, come on! That’s not fair!” You cross your arms and frown at him. "What are you going to do with this photo anyway?"

"It's my lockscreen already." His eyebrows shoot up in a playful expression. "What makes me remember, you should change yours, too. Why didn't we change it before? Such an amateur mistake!" He swiftly takes your phone from your hand and opens the front camera.

"What are you doing-?"

You gasp softly when Jimin pulls you by the waist, sticking your body to his. "Smile, pretty!"

His act was so sudden that you, indeed, end up cracking a genuine smile - at the same moment his lips touch your cheek tenderly. 

Click.

Jimin steps away and smiles proudly at the photo. "We look like a real couple here. Come on, set it as your lockscreen."

You take the phone back from his hand, feeling a little dizzy.

Oh well.

You literally made out with him in front of everyone just a few hours ago, in the middle of the ocean. Why does the chaste kiss he planted on your cheek still makes your face burn? Is it because now you're alone, not having to pretend to be a couple anymore, that his act felt much more intimate? But… there was no one else around during your first kiss at the beach, either.

It's because you're head over heels for him already.

You shake your head frantically as if to yank these thoughts away from your head. No no no. I'm not falling that easily. I'm a cold hearted bitch. I'm just flattered because he's cute and hot and rich, but it'll go away. Right?

"Yeah, right." You mumble.

"What?" Jimin quirks one eyebrow up.

"What?" You freeze, realizing that you voiced your thoughts out loud. "I-I mean- I want to ask you something."

"Oh." He puts his hands behind his back and starts walking again. You follow him shortly. "What is it?"

You munch the inside of your cheek nervously. "You can not tell me if you don't want to. But… what happened earlier today? That family meeting, I mean. Is there anything I need to know?"

The carefree glint in his eyes immediately disappears. Jimin looks down at his feet. "Oh."

An uncomfortable silence settles between you, only the sounds of the ocean and voices from the other people at the pier lingering. It makes you regret making that question as soon as the words leave your mouth. "You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You say hesitantly after a few seconds. 

"No, it's alright." Jimin reassures, but he's still staring at his feet. He sighs and shakes his head. It's so painful to see him sulking this way whenever his family is mentioned… "Basically, they called me to say that Eunbi's parents are pissed about us."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" You came prepared to be hated by Jimin's parents, but Eunbi's as well? Shit. As if one billionaire middle aged couple of enemies wasn't enough.

"Really." Jimin nods. You have finally reached the stairs that lead to the street level. This pier is within the resort's property, actually, so you're not that far from the bungalows, and the main building is just a few streets ahead. "They came thinking that the engagement was already settled. Without asking for our opinions, you know. They think that bringing you here is disrespectful to their daughter."

"Oh." You knit your eyebrows. "So… they don't care if you're in an actual relationship. They'd want you to break up so you can get married to someone you barely know… even if you weren't aware of the engagement?"

"Yep. That's exactly how they think." He sighs heavily. 

You go up the stairs in silence. Your brain is working furiously. "This won't put you into real trouble, right?"

Jimin chuckles. "Y/N, the whole point of bringing you here was to put me in trouble. I want to stress them. Just don't worry too much, okay? Worrying will give you wrinkles, and you have to look wonderful tonight."

You're finally standing on the sidewalk, where one of the Park family butlers already waits to take you both back to the bungalow (he's wearing a short sleeved dress shirt, at least. Poor butlers, having to wear suits in the summer!). Your stomach twirls in nervousness. Spending the afternoon so freely made you forget for a bit your actual purpose here.

"You go without me, pretty. I'll get ready at Jungkook's place." 

You turn to him, frowning in a confused expression. "What? Why?"

The happy gleam in his eyes comes back slowly as he steps closer. "I already explained that today is a little more serious, right? More guests arrived, we have to impress people… so I hired a team to take care of you. Hairstylist, makeup artist and stuff. They're already waiting for you."

"Oh." You feel your face burning for some reason. It should be expected of him to do something like that - even obvious, since all the socialites attending are probably getting the same treatment - but still, you can't help but feel a little flustered. "Okay." You change the weight of your body from one leg to another nervously. "So… see you later, I guess?"

Jesus Christ.

He's doing it again.

Standing directly in front of you with his hands behind his back, a mysterious lip tightened smile and mischief in his eyes, watching your every movement with amusement. If your face was hot a few seconds ago, now your entire body is feverish. Will you ever get used to this? The things Jimin makes you feel without even touching you are kind of amazing. Imagine when he actually touch you the way you want the most-

Hey, pervert. Stop.

"I think I've said this a hundred times already… but it's kinda rude to just stand and stare at people." You say, eyebrows knitted - but you can't manage to sound annoyed at all.

Jimin smirks.

"I want to kiss you."

You're so taken aback that your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Don't huh at me." He steps even closer - so close that you feel the heat emanating from his body. He rests his hand in the junction of your jaw and your neck, spreading even more heat from that spot. You don't push him away. All this heat is going to make you melt like a popsicle. "Don't try to look innocent right now. You shoved your tongue in my throat not long ago, missy." 

You giggle, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I already said… I was just method acting."

"Hmm." Jimin nods slowly, biting his bottom lip. The sight makes you weak on the knees. "Sure. So, me kissing you right now means I'm method acting because one of the butlers is watching and we can't look suspicious around them, okay? Because they're my parents' eyes and ears, okay? Not because I want to kiss you." His voice gets lower as he leans in, a faked innocent expression that has you smiling and melting at the same time. "Just to make it clear so there's no misunderstanding. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod.

"Good. I'd hate if you got it all wrong."

Your giggle is muffled by his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively rest on each side of his waist, while he cups your face with both hands. Oh God… his plump lips are addicting. This kiss is slower and somehow more peaceful than the one you shared in the sea, but it makes your heart race and your senses go crazy nevertheless. Your lips move slowly, in sync with his. You can feel him smiling within the kiss, which causes your knees to feel even weaker. 

He breaks the kiss not too long after, aware that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but not taking his hands off of you. Yet again, he bites his bottom lip, analyzing your features carefully. "Hari will be there. You'll have a lot of territory to mark. Be ready."

You throw your head back, laughing. "Sure. You really are enjoying this way too much, huh?"

"I am. Why wouldn't I?" He confesses cheekily, shrugging. He pecks your lips one last time, lingering for a little longer, before finally letting you go. "See you later, pretty."

"See you."

You hope that Jimin doesn't notice that your legs kind of forgot how to walk as you distance yourself from him towards the butler. Because yes, you feel like a poor popsicle melting under the scorching Hawaiian sun. The sun has Jimin's face, which makes you remember the Teletubbies for some reason, earning a quiet giggle from you. The butler eyes you as if you're crazy.

Maybe you are getting crazy.

But to be honest - this insanity is sweeter than any popsicle you could ever taste.

As a kid, you always fantasized about being Mia from The Princess Diaries. Call it escapism if you want - fantasizing about a perfect life while yours was awful - but it was a dream of yours. Imagine: finding out your grandmother is a queen? Going from a regular loser to a crown princess? Who wouldn't want that? 

You haven't thought of that movie in years. Now, as you stand in front of the mirror, it suddenly pops up in your head. Yes, Mia's iconic "transformation" scene.

Except you didn't think you were ugly before, which means right now, you're feeling like a literal goddess.

Maybe that's why God didn't make me rich, you think. Maybe he knew if I looked like this on a daily basis, I would be the most unbearable human being in this world.

"Did you like it?" The hairstylist, Christine, asks, eyeing you expectantly. 

If I liked it?! I look like the hottest bitch you'll ever see in your life! 

But instead of letting everyone see your God complex, you just nod and smile politely. "I loved it!"

Your eyes focus on the mirror again.

Jimin suggested you'd both wear black tonight as an evil joke. Traditionally, the dinner followed by the private concert is a more "informal" event, so everyone should dress accordingly with colorful outfits (you're in Hawaii, after all). Let's wear black. It represents me grieving my freedom, he said jokingly at the mall. You chuckled and thought he was being dramatic back then, but after everything you've witnessed for the past 48 hours, you realize that Jimin wasn't really joking when he said that.

The Yves Saint Lauren dress you two picked is quite simple: a short, strapless and sleeveless dress with a straight neckline. It's perfectly balanced between sexy and elegant: it enhances your curves the right amount, not enough to be considered vulgar by the aunties. Although it's strapless, it doesn't squeeze your boobies up so the uncles won't get "distracted" (ew). It's so simple but fits your body so well that you can't help but stare at your own reflection in awe. Simple black Givenchy sandals complete the outfit. 

Being a (poor) fashion enthusiast, this whole experience is like heaven to you. One thing is to see new collections and judge new trends; another completely different thing is to get to wear a piece from a high fashion house. It's not only about prices and status. This dress is so well cut and woven that it seems to be alive, as if it knows where to be tight and where to be loose. 

Doing your own makeup and hair was never a problem and you could do a pretty good job by yourself, but professionals doing it is on another level. Christine styled your hair back, carefully parting it and tucking it behind your ears, so your face is highlighted. Marco (the makeup artist) made your skin look impeccable, as smooth as baby butt cheeks (it's crazy how makeup can lie, huh?); the winged eyeliner, albeit simple, enhances the natural shape of your eyes. The lashes are subtle and make your eyes appear bigger. He completed the look by placing tiny little glitter dots under the waterline, one for each eye, so they kinda look like shiny tears (you suggested it, by the way, being carried away by the whole "grieving" concept. Talk about drama). He chose a lipstick color close to the natural color of your lips, making them appear shiny, plump and healthy.

And finally - the jewelry.

Mr. Zhou arrived at the bungalow a few minutes ago, carrying a leather, medium sized suitcase. You greet each other politely. Jimin texted saying that he would bring the jewelry you'd wear tonight - and you were anxious all along, because while you planned the outfits, he had already said you'd wear jewelry, but he didn't tell which jewelry; didn't show a single photo of what you'd wear, simply asked you to trust him. Although you learned to trust his fashion sense pretty fast, you don't like surprises at all. What if it's something extravagant that would ruin the look?

"Mr. Jimin picked those pieces from the Park jewelry collection himself," Mr. Zhou explains as he puts white gloves on (oh shit - this is so expensive that he has to wear gloves to touch it?!). "He said they would suit you fine - and I agree."

The chief butler opens the suitcase and takes the biggest black velvet case from inside, opening it.

It takes all of your self control not to gasp.

It's a gorgeous diamond necklace (yes, diamonds, fucking real diamonds!); it looks like a thick chain, actually, and at the center of it, sits a bigger emerald (yes, an emerald, a fucking real emerald!). Inside the box there are also subtle emerald earrings framed by tiny diamonds; since the necklace is already too much, the earrings have to be subtle to accompany them.

“I present you The Serpent’s Eye.” Mr. Zhou explains eloquently. “Tiffany & Co., designed by Paloma Picasso and acquired by the Park family in 2006.” He takes the necklace from the velvet case carefully. "If you'll allow me…" 

"Of course." You say, turning around and facing the mirror again - but you do so hesitantly, because being the fashion enthusiast you are, you recognize the name Paloma Picasso, and the fact that you’re about to have one of her original designs around your neck scares you. You’ve been very well aware that every piece of clothing you wear is worth thousands, but these pieces must be worth much more than everything else combined.

Mr. Zhou stands behind you and places the necklace around your neck, the cool touch of metal and diamonds making you shiver. The necklace sits just above your collarbones. The name of the design is understandable - it indeed resembles a small snake tangled around your neck. He also helps you put the small earrings on.

Finally, Mr. Zhou steps aside. 

"You look astonishing, Miss. Y/N," he says, and honestly, he sounds like he means it.

Yeah, I do, it’s what you want to say - but instead, you say “Thank you.”

It’s exactly what Jimin intended: elegance. If you’re too extravagant, his parents would hate it, and it’d make you look cheap no matter how expensive your clothes actually are. If it’s too simple, it’d look like you have no fashion sense. This look is the perfect balance. Your natural beauty is the focus, everything else just meant to highlight you. 

You look like a celebrity.

You look like them. Like someone’s rich daughter. And yes, it’s conflicting, because you never wanted to look like them - but you can’t deny that you like what you see in the mirror. 

You understand Jimin better now. Of course - he's an old money child, he doesn't know any lifestyle other than this. You're just having a little taste of what this life is. Yet, you can understand why he's so desperate to not lose his portion of the Park family fortune. Who wouldn't want to live such a lavish life? Who wouldn't want to look their absolute best at any opportunity, to wear clothes worth thousands just because they can?

Mr. Zhou looks at the watch on his wrist. “Now that you’re ready, I should take you to the event hall as soon as possible.” 

“Am I late?” You ask in a worried tone.

“Fashionably late. I’m sure everyone will understand. It takes time to look your best.” Mr. Zhou reassures. Why is he being so nice today? “I will wait for you outside, Miss Y/N.”

You nod. As Christine and Marco pack their things, you don’t forget to thank them over and over again for their wonderful job. They seem like pretty nice people, actually, and you'd like to get to know them better, but you have no time to. Two other butlers will assist their exit. You take the small black clutch that literally can only fit your phone and a small lipgloss before walking out of the bungalow where Mr. Zhou already waits.

No golf car today. Instead, that same Mercedes Maybach from yesterday is parked outside. Mr. Zhou politely opens the door for you and helps you get inside the car before taking his place on the driver's seat.

Another wave of nervousness hits your stomach as he turns the car on and finally starts making his way towards the hall - a separate building within the hotel's property, sitting in front of the ocean, not far from the pier. The ride will take probably 5 minutes. You exhale heavily, checking yourself again with the front camera, before tapping Jimin's contact.

you: i'm coming

He replies almost instantly:

jimin: waiting for you outside

Oh. You didn't think he'd already be there. You put the phone inside the clutch again and look out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Are you nervous, Miss Y/N?" Mr. Zhou asks out of sudden, snapping you back to reality. He keeps the formal tone; his voice is soothing.

"A little bit, I'll admit." You say with a lip tightened smile.

"Tonight, you'll be meeting Jimin's parents' close friends and allies from other companies." He continues. He always speaks as if he's picking his words carefully. "It's quite important to them. It's not just a celebratory event, you see… they reassure their place within society and business today."

You frown slightly. 

Mr. Zhou never talked this much. Although he keeps that formal persona, you see that he's trying to tell you something very specific, just avoiding the direct words to do so.

And yes, you get the message.

"You don’t need to worry, Mr. Zhou.” You say, crossing your arms, your expression hardening like stone in seconds. “I won’t embarrass the Park family in front of their friends.”

You see the butler nodding. “You’re smart.” He remarks. “Intelligence is important if you want to be accepted in the family.”

I would never in a million years want to be part of this family, you think. Instead, you just gulp and grip your arms, trying to ease the growing anger.

Finally, he parks in front of the events building. Yet, instead of immediately going out - and stopping you from opening the door yourself, since you’re already annoyed, Mr. Zhou turns around on his seat to look at you directly.

His expression is serious.

“I don’t want you to take my words badly, Miss Y/N.” He says in a quiet, yet stern voice. “I have been watching over this family even before Jimin was born. I know each of them very well, and I know how dysfunctional they are. When I say you have to be smart around them and watch yourself very carefully, I don’t say it to belittle you; I say it because I know what they would be capable of doing if you offend them somehow.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You lean forward a bit, getting defensive. “Did they tell you to threaten me?”

“No.” His voice and expression don’t change despite your obvious outrage. “I am warning you because I see that you’re not quite aware of the type of people you’re dealing with. And because you seem like a respectable young lady.” Mr. Zhou’s eyes soften a bit. “I see that Jimin likes you a lot. I’m not quite sure of what your relationship with him really is, and I’d be happy if it’s genuine, because he really needs it in his life. But I know Jimin very well…” Mr. Zhou tilts his head to the side, frowning a bit. “...and I’d hate it if you're somehow harmed because of his immaturity.”

He sends a last significant gaze before finally opening the door.

You just have these short seconds to recover your breath before he opens the door for you. Shit. What he said actually gets you. Call it naivety or whatnot - but you didn’t stop to consider that Jimin’s parents are actually powerful people that could mess up your life if you annoy them enough. But… Jimin wouldn’t have asked for your help if he knew his parents would try anything serious against you, right?

Mr. Zhou knows Jimin better than you do and he just called him immature.

Oh shit.

The butler opens the door and offers his hand for you to walk out of the car. Now, you’re not just nervous - you’re worried. 

Thankfully, the temperature dropped - it's still considerably hot, but much more comfortable than hours ago. You stand up, inhaling the fresh nightly air, and look at the gigantic building in front of you. Important events happen here quite frequently. Large marble stairs lead to the entrance of the hall. There is a gathering of women and men dressed elegantly slowly making their ways inside, greeting each other politely as they walk in, as well as many security guards. You stand on the sidewalk and nervously look around, searching for Jimin.

You spot him before he spots you.

He's standing at the corner, kind of hidden, close to the first steps, absently checking his phone. You already knew what he would be wearing tonight, but to see him in the outfit makes your brain malfunction. 

Obviously, Jimin wears all black: a silk turtleneck under a black glitter Louis Vuitton blazer that fits him marvelously. The turtleneck is tucked into the dress pants. On his feet, leather black boots. His hair is pushed back, a single strand falling on his forehead, and he uses a pair of shades to complete the look. Instead of the usual dangly earrings, he wears small hoops tonight that match the outfit very well. Once again, you're left astonished at how this man is doing basically nothing - just standing there with one of his hands tucked inside the front pocket of his pants, checking his phone with a blank expression - but Gosh, he's gorgeous. His posture is perfect: he has the elegance of a swan, the grandeur of an eagle, and the confident gaze of a tiger about to slash you to pieces. In fact, he looks so good that you even forget the short talk you had with Mr. Zhou a minute ago.

It takes him around three seconds to lift his gaze from the phone and spot you.

It's funny, because you see the exact moment he freezes.

The shades slide down the bridge of his nose. He looks at you with slightly widened eyes and parted lips. It's like he's in shock.

Then, a smile breaks its way and lightens his face.

Jimin shoves the phone inside the pocket of his pants and rushes to you in a second. Nervousness bubbles within your stomach at every step he takes. It doesn’t help that he walks with the stance of a model - he’s definitely doing this on purpose. Handsome men that know they are handsome are the most dangerous type. Jimin is not only very well aware of his appearance, he uses it to his advantage all the time. 

And when he stops in front of you, checking you out from head to toe - it’s like you can’t even breathe.

It’s a different feeling from yesterday. There’s no playfulness in his eyes at all. Only that same electricity hanging in the air you felt earlier today at the yacht - when you sat on his lap, when you kissed. This electricity is getting more and more intense, it’s like you’ll start seeing sparks around you at any moment. Fuck, he didn’t even touch you yet. You don’t know how much longer you can resist…

Honestly, you’re not sure if you want to keep resisting at this point.

Jimin takes your hand and makes you twirl around, earning a soft giggle from you. He bites his bottom lip, that mischievous smirk making you feel weak on the knees.

“Just so you know,” he says in a low voice, putting his hand on your waist, “If I make a fool of myself in front of everyone, I’m blaming you. Because I won’t be paying attention to anything else tonight.”

You giggle again, tentatively touching the lapel of his blazer. It’s beautifully embroidered with circular patterns; you can only see them if you stand close enough, though. Your sight lingers on his lips (for long seconds; they’re so plump and glossy and delicious) before you look into his eyes again. “I could say the same thing, Mr. Park.”

Jimin’s smirk widens and he tilts his head to the side. “I knew The Serpent’s Eye would suit you.” He touches the necklace with his fingertips. The action makes you gulp - this necklace seems to weigh tons and you’ve been painfully aware of it all the time, your anxious brain already making up scenarios of you losing the millionaire design and Jimin’s parents making you pay with your life. 

“Why did you choose it, by the way?” You quirk one eyebrow up in a teasing expression. “Are you calling me a snake? Should I be offended?”

Jimin chuckles. “Of course not. Serpents are astute and smart animals… just like you.” Sir, the actual smooth person here is you, not me. “Not everyone can pull off such an aggressive design. I knew none of my mother’s friends would dare to choose it.”

Jimin hooks your arm around his and slowly starts to guide you towards the stairs. “So your mom lets her friends borrow her jewelry?” You ask. 

“From the family collection, yes.” Jimin nods in a gracious movement. “The most expensive pieces, only to the closest and most important guests. It’s a sign of trust and respect.”

“But your mother surely doesn’t respect me.” You say between gritted teeth, aware of the people around you. 

“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word about it. It’d be weird if the guests noticed that her daughter-in-law isn’t wearing one of the pieces. Like I told you… this event is about appearances. She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect.”

Daughter-in-law. This makes you shiver. You've been her fake in law for barely 48 hours and it already feels like hell. Imagine being her real in law… Jieun must’ve done some awful things in her past life to deserve this, honestly.

You’re forced to pay attention to your real surroundings before you can overthink more, though, when you realize you’re the center of attention.

This is probably the closest you’ll ever feel to being a celebrity. It’s not unusual to be the center of attention when it’s your birthday, for example. But this… this feels different. You don’t know most of these people, just some familiar faces from earlier today - yet, it seems that they already know you, they measure you up and down, they smile and greet you before you can. Sure… your arm is hooked with one of this event’s hosts, the Park’s youngest son. Yet, you see that people are also actually seeing you. You’re not just Jimin’s accessory.

Is this good? You’re not sure. This means they’ve heard from you somehow. In the span of less than 48 hours, these unknown people have been talking about you.

They approach you with curious smiles; they greet you and Jimin, make some shallow - almost diplomatic - comment about the weather or how long they haven’t seen Jimin or about the outfits or I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N! (how the hell did they hear a lot about you in such a short time, though?) or you make a gorgeous couple! (you know they’re not lying about this bit; you do look gorgeous). They do not look at you disapprovingly, so you can confirm that the outfit choice was indeed appropriate for the event, albeit dramatic.

“You’re great at this, did you know that?” Jimin compliments after yet another middle aged couple walks away, leaning a bit closer to your ear so only you can hear. “You even remember their names.”

“I have a good memory,” you say between a gritted-teeth smile. “Also, working on customer service teaches you a few things.”

“Really? You weren’t this charming when we met at that convenience store.” He says in a teasing way, cocking an eyebrow up.

“First of all, I met you sitting on the floor behind a fridge. You looked like a freak.” He lets a giggle at that. “Second, I’ve moonlighted as a waitress many times. And event hostess. Never any event of this level, of course.” 

The last sentence was spoken in a quieter tone. Once again, you’re a bit scared of how Jimin - and everyone else - don’t seem to be bothered by the absolutely luxurious environment around. The immense hall is decorated in similar white and cream tones from the dinner yesterday (there’s a reason for that; Jimin’s parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary, the Pearl anniversary, apparently). Even waiters and waitresses, walking around with silver platters in hands and pretty smiles on their faces, wear cream uniforms. There are literal cascades of white lilies and roses so beautifully entangled that you’re intrigued at how they managed to arrange that. The round dinner tables are also decorated with white flowers at the center. There is a massive ice sculpture of an open oyster with a pearl in it at the entrance of the hall; the presence of pearls and oysters is almost everywhere in the decoration. The hostesses and waitresses even have small oyster shaped pins on their hair. At the very front, there is a stage; it’s barely lit yet, but you can see musicians discreetly preparing their instruments for the concert later. Professional photographers walk around the hall, recording and taking pictures of anything remarkable.

It’s jaw-dropping.

You feel weird inside.

It doesn’t matter that you look like them; you don’t feel like them. You don’t belong in this place, and it feels that everyone will notice it too if you do the slightest thing wrong. It’s clear in the way you’re astonished (outraged) at how someone can spend so much money on flowers (do you even know how much a single bouquet costs? Can you imagine thousands of flowers?!) while these people walk around with hundreds of thousands of dollars hanging from their ears or around their necks, and to them it’s just another weekend.

Oh boy. Mr. Zhou was kinda right. You will have to be very careful not to embarrass Jimin or his family in front of these people.

You walk around with your arm hooked around Jimin’s for a while, making silly small talk with the guests. Jimin quietly whispers who they are and their importance as they approach. It’s always some over the top shit like Biggest LG Shareholder or Co-Founder of This Very Famous Car Brand or CEO of This Very Rich Food Company and it makes your stomach drop every time. It seems that half of the country’s GDP is hanging around in this hall. A bunch of old guys with their (1) same age, but full of obvious cosmetic procedure wives or (2) much younger wives that of course married them out of true love.

Jimin complimented you earlier, but it’s him who deserves the most compliments. He’s really good at this. It’s so easy for him to engage in a superficial but polite conversation. Hello! I acknowledge your presence here! I am thankful that you came but I do not care enough to talk more than two minutes with you! Yes the weather is nice! See you later! All that with the prettiest smile and most genuine fake laughter you’ve ever seen (sounds contradictory but that’s exactly that). And they all fall for that. He’s so unbearably charming.

Which makes you wonder.

Jimin said that the whole purpose of bringing you to Hawaii was to upset his parents. But… he’s not really acting like someone willing to do that. Of course - maybe he knows that if he goes too far, his parents might really cut him off of their sweet sweet money fountain. Yet, it doesn’t match with what he stated earlier. Does he really want to piss his parents off? Or does he want to play the good boy so his parents leave him alone with this engagement thing? Those are opposites, he can’t want both.

Does he even know what he wants?

You’re unsure.

Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have accepted this insanity, the little anxious voice in your head says. Maybe he really is too immature and is about to fuck me up. 

Jimin gives a little pat on the hand that holds his arm and smiles. 

“We’re doing really well, pretty. I’m relieved that you’re here.” He says quietly. “This kind of event always stresses me out, but you’re making this easier.”

Don’t go around saying cute shit like that while I doubt you!

You avoid his gaze and sip a little bit more of the champagne you picked earlier from a waiter. “It doesn’t look like you’re stressed at all.” He shrugs.

“I’m method acting, too. Kinda used to it at this point.”

And there it is. That quiet sadness in his eyes.

Goddamnit.

All the questions in your head crumble to the ground, and you immediately want to comfort him like a baby.

That’s not a baby. It’s a grown ass man. Get yourself together. 

The voice in your head is angrier now - and she’s kinda right, to be honest.

Jimin sighs and pats your hand again. 

“Okay, we’ve wandered around enough. Food will be served soon… so we have to get seated.” He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t despise the idea of having to sit with his family for another torturously long dinner. 

“Okay.” You nod, placing the now empty champagne glass on another waiter’s platter. You inhale, trying to gather more confidence. “Let’s go.”

So, you start walking towards the table at the front of the stage - the most important one where everyone can see from all directions. 

They’re already there, surrounded by their closest friends.

At every step, you try to gather more and more anger within yourself - this anger will fuel your confidence and muffle the nervousness (in theory). Fuck this middle aged billionaire couple. Fuck their matching cream outfits - Mr. Park Hyunjun wears a very traditional (read: boring) cream suit, while Mrs. Park Eunji wears a long, flowy dress with blue details in it and beautifully embroidered with silver patterns that seem to remember a soft breeze. A beautiful pearl necklace adorns her neck and modest cleavage. Their outfits are very “age appropriate” and posh, indeed, and they are an attractive couple, but everything about them is so painfully traditional.

Also fuck the way they look at you two with disapproval.

Another nauseatingly fake scene unfolds in front of your eyes - Mrs. Eunji giggles and side hugs Jimin, gushing over how handsome he looks (she can’t hide the obvious distaste for his black outfit, though). 

“What an… interesting choice,” she says, touching the embroidery on his blazer with her fingertips. “Rather dramatic, I’d say.”

Jimin smiles. “Everyone looks good in black, you know. Also, I didn’t want to stand out.” 

Bullshit. No one else is wearing black because it goes against the dress code. The way he said it so innocently would make any unsuspecting ears believe him, but his mom is certainly not one of those - neither are you. 

“Of course, black can make anyone look presentable at least. Y/N is live proof, isn’t she?”

She eyes you from head to toe and smiles sweetly.

Holy fucking shit. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

Her tone. The way she looks at you. Her awful Tom Ford perfume that makes you want to vomit as she approaches and - gasp - side hugs you too, like a good and loving mother-in-law. You smile and give her some soft pats on her back, but God, you can’t act as well as her at all - although you force yourself to do your best, well aware that all eyes and ears are focused on the Park family.

“You look astonishing tonight, Mrs. Park,” you say between gritted teeth. “This color really suits you.” Cream is boring. Like old paper. You almost smell like mold, too, rattlesnake.

“I’m glad you think so.” She’s not glad you think so. “See, me and Elie spent a long time choosing the color palette for this dress… he did such a wonderful job in the end.” She widens her eyes slightly. “Oh! My apologies, you can’t possibly know who I’m talking about…”

“Elie Saab.” You promptly say. Of course Elie Saab himself designed a dress for her. “Yes, I know his work.”

“Really?” She raises one eyebrow and this small movement spreads anger through your system. So much disdain, and she just said a word. “I didn’t think you’d know such a highly regarded fashion house, since you seem so… humble.” She has the audacity to eye you up and down with disgust again. “A wonderful trait to have, you see! Our Jimin definitely needs someone in his life to teach him some humility.”

In all honesty, you don’t even know how to respond to this.

Your wanted reaction is to reach for the nearest fork and stab her face with it. Which is, unfortunately, socially inappropriate. You also think of calling her by the ugliest names in existence, which, unfortunately is also socially inappropriate (won’t take you to jail, at least).

But all you can do is keep that smile plastered on your face and anger in your eyes.

This level of contempt is not unusual. 

Alpha High taught you to get used to it. The giggles, side glances, or straight up offenses spoken out loud so everyone could laugh at your expense, too. It taught you to accept it silently, because you knew no one would stand up for you; you didn’t have enough money or a heavy surname to back you up. You weren’t important enough. Who cared if you had an excellent academic performance? It wasn’t as cool as having a summer manor in Greece anyway.

You hate that no clever response comes to your mind. You hate that you can just stand there and awkwardly look at her - this woman that made you feel cheap even though you have diamonds sitting around your neck. You hate that, deep down, you’re feeling as cornered as you were as a defenseless fifteen year old standing on the school hallway.

Not a fun feeling at all.

And things just start getting progressively worse.

Before even Jimin gets time to say something, another couple approaches - and your blood freezes. You’ve seen them yesterday at the reception dinner and earlier today, now feeling a little stupid that you didn’t make the simple connection. They’re followed shortly by another person, a much familiar and hated face. 

Eunbi’s parents, apparently; Mr. and Mrs. Jeong.

Now that you look at the three of them, the silly part of your brain wonders who Eunbi inherited her beauty from, because they don’t share much of it with her, let’s say. They’re impeccably well dressed, of course, but their daughter’s beauty steals all the attention. She wears a rosé pink minidress (is it MiuMiu?) with a straight neckline and thin straps. On her ears, diamond earrings that seem to resemble raindrops; around her neck, a diamond choker necklace. Everything combed with the subtle makeup gives her a young, cute look.

You measure each other up and down like two rival lions about to fight. Complete opposites, black and pink. 

The tension is so extreme that it’s almost visible - like some kind of fog.

Jimin is the one to break the ice, stepping closer to greet the couple, and you do the same, glad that you don’t have to look at Mrs. Rattlesnake even for five seconds - though this other lady also hates you, apparently. It’s kind of amazing how Jimin can act like the heavy tension isn’t there at all.

The seven of you stand there smiling for long and silent five seconds. It looks like a smiling contest. You can’t tell who’s angrier.

“So… Y/N, right?” Mrs. Jeong says. She looks like an eggplant, some part of your brain remarks silently, almost making you (very inappropriately) giggle. “It’s such a surprise that you and our Eunbi were classmates. We would’ve never guessed.”

If that’s even possible - your anger levels increase. It might’ve sounded like a pretty normal thing to say, but her tone and the way she measured you up and down makes it clear that what she really meant was we would’ve never guessed that a nobody like you also studied in Alpha High.

“We were surprised, too.” Eunbi says before you can, smiling sweetly. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“This is a great excuse for you to come with us to a day at the Spa tomorrow, isn’t it, Mrs. Park?” Eunbi’s mom says, eyeing the other woman knowingly.

“Of course! Y/N and Eunbi must have a lot to catch up after all these years, right? Y/N, you have to come with us tomorrow.” Rattlesnake hisses- (oops) says.

You look at the two other women with uneasiness.

First of all, this doesn’t sound like an invite, but a summon. You simply know you can’t say no. Second of all - these three despise you, they wouldn’t want you there if they didn’t have second intentions. What do they actually want?

You want to say no thanks, but it feels like you’re handcuffed in this situation.

“Sure. It sounds refreshing,” you finally agree with a painful smile. It didn’t even happen yet, but you know tomorrow is already ruined. Don’t let these bastards get to your head, your inner voice advises; don’t show weakness. You can deal with them.

Yeah, right.

You notice that, surprisingly, Eunbi looks very uncomfortable with the whole idea; she avoids her mother’s gaze and looks down, smile faltering a bit. She doesn’t want to be around you as much as you don’t want to be around her, apparently. At least you can agree on something.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Park stepping closer once again, placing his hand on his wife’s back. “Dear, dinner’s ready and about to be served. We should take our places.” 

“Of course. I’m sure all of us are hungry enough.” She turns around to the other guests to announce it loudly, and somehow all the nearly one hundred people manage to hear it, walking to their respective seats.

Respective seats.

The seats are all charted - something you only saw in movies before, but you should’ve expected it at this point. Coming closer to the round table, you notice that over every beautiful white and blue porcelain plate, there is an elegant tag name in golden lettering on top of it. Mr. and Mrs. Park; Hyungsik and his wife sit by Mr. Park’s seat, while Jimin’s place is by his mother…

And by Jimin’s seat…

You freeze. Jimin freezes, too.

Jeong Eunbi’s name tag.

Feeling your stomach drop, you look around, searching for your own name tag - but there’s none to be seen, and it’s getting increasingly embarrassing as everyone else sits down while you and Jimin remain standing.

Your throat gets dry.

“She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect,” Jimin said as you walked inside the hall. This made you think she wouldn’t want to embarrass you.

Oh, Jimin. How wrong you were.

“Hm, there must be a mistake.” Jimin speaks up. The smile is still there, but his eyes hardened and his breath gets deeper as the visible anger fills him. “Where is Y/N’s seat?”

“Oh! Jimin, dear… this is a bit unpleasant,” his mother says, stepping closer with clasped hands and (fake) apologetic eyes. “You know that we planned this event months prior… the charting was already made long ago. We didn’t know Y/N would be here today. Unfortunately, there was no time to tell the catering staff to provide one more seat at our table.”

Funny how your legs start feeling cold all of sudden.

It’s the second time you’re at a loss of words tonight, this time much worse than before. You grip Jimin’s arm just a little tighter, feeling how the situation is starting to get people’s attention. Mrs. Park isn’t trying to be quiet right now. Your legs are cold, but your neck and face suddenly warm up with embarrassment as the guests on the main table whisper among each other in confusion.

“We found a vacant seat, of course, right over there, Y/N,” Mrs. Park continues - for fuck’s sake, she just continues - pointing over to the other side of the hall. “With the Kim family. You’ll love them, I know it!”

Your brain can’t process a coherent sentence. 

With the corner of your eye, you notice Eunbi standing a few steps away awkwardly. She has the decency to look embarrassed, at least. Everyone else at the table is already seated.

You’re… you’re supposed to be their daughter-in-law. Their younger son’s girlfriend, the first girl he ever brought over. Yet… they refuse to let you sit by Jimin’s side on the main table, the hosts table, and want you to sit alone on the back so they can set up Jimin and Eunbi. And they’re doing it publicly.

This is the type of humiliation you wouldn’t expect from an adult, a mature person. But it’s happening nevertheless, and you want to sink and disappear. You can’t think of a quirky comeback, a way out that would make you feel less humiliated - even though Jimin isn’t even your real boyfriend and these people aren’t your real in-laws. This trip feels like a mistake, like a bad idea, like Mr. Zhou was absolutely right in his warning.

You’re so overwhelmed by this sour feeling that you don’t notice how Jimin’s smile disappears.

He sighs heavily, looking at his feet, jaw clenched.

“Okay.” He looks up at you - and you’re taken aback, because you’ve never seen Jimin angry before. “Y/N, let’s go back to our room.”

And he starts walking away, taking you along by the hand.

“What? Jimin- where’re you going?” Mrs. Park says, making Jimin stop. “Dinner’s about to be served.”

You see the warning in her eyes and gritted teeth and hardened smile, but for once, Jimin doesn’t play along. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak louder, but when he does speak, it’s in a hard and serious tone.

“If Y/N doesn’t have a place here, neither do I. I don’t see why we should stay in this situation.” He doesn’t bother to whisper, aware that he has the table’s attention. “Now, if you’ll excuse us...” 

Oh shit. He’s angry and offended. Jimin turns around again, holding your hand tightly. 

In the midst of all the bad feelings, this is so satisfying. You’re simply happy that Jimin didn’t leave you on your own, didn’t lower his head to his parents. He stood up for you and is genuinely pissed! His mother is still babbling - she for sure didn’t expect Jimin to want to leave like this - and even Mr. Park got up from his seat; Eunbi is pale, her parents watch in disapproval, similar to Jimin’s older brother, who glares at him as if he did something wrong.

“Wait, Jimin, please,” someone else says, which catches both yours and Jimin’s attention: Mr. Hwang. He’s gotten up and looks between you and Mrs. Park cautiously. “I am sure we can solve this situation very easily. There’s no need to miss this amazing night.”

Mrs. Hwang also gets up; her eyes are widened with worry and an uneasy smile. “I am sure everyone at this table can move a little so Y/N can sit with us.” Murmurs of agreement echo around, much to the Park’s displeasure. “Waiter, please? Could you assist us?”

You and Jimin eye each other as Mrs. Hwang politely asks a nearby waiter to bring another chair, while the guests start getting up with no protest to open a little spot by Jimin’s side. In no time, there is one more chair at the table; another waitress hushes to bring a new set of plates and cutlery. 

“See? It’s done! Not a big problem at all.” Mr. Hwang says happily; the guests at the table also seem content. 

“I guess we can all sit now, right, Jimin?” His wife says. “We all would hate it if this lovely young lady missed the concert.” And to your surprise - the table agrees.

You look at Jimin again. He doesn’t look happy - not at all - but it seems that he softened up a bit because of the Hwang couple; same goes for you. If this was a competition for Best Middle Aged Couple, the Hwangs would’ve won it by far.

He raises an eyebrow at you - a question. You shrug and nod in small movements. Although you’d rather not be here, at least Mrs. Park looks infuriated that her silly little plan didn’t work and she in fact caused a ridiculous scene. Her attempt at embarrassing you completely backfired.

Jimin sighs heavily and, instead of saying anything, walks back to the table once again. The guests sigh in relief; Eunbi looks even more awkward; the Parks are fuming. Jimin pushes the chair for you to sit, and as you do, a little spark of victory fills your chest. 

“I’m glad this is solved,” Mrs. Park says, glaring at you as if she wants to stab you with the nearest knife, a lip tightened smile. “I hate unforeseen events.”

You are the unforeseen event. About to be the worst she could ever imagine.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Park. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” You say sweetly. Jimin does his best not to laugh; she definitely wants to stab you. 

Me 1 x 0 Rattlesnake

A win, at last.

Everyone at the table does their best to forget The Seat Incident for the sake of a good mood. 

Lighthearted conversations. Good (amazing) food. The band plays soft background music. Understandably so, neither you and Jimin talk much - he is still visibly upset; chooses to just respond whenever someone mentions him or makes quiet comments in your ear from time to time. You, on the other hand, don’t talk much because the person sitting by your left side is Eunbi and you’d honestly rather swallow nails than willingly have a conversation with her.

All things considered, everything is going alright. They’re asking fewer questions than yesterday, which is great, so you can focus on whatever the name of this thing you’re eating is - taking small bites and chewing slowly so you don’t look impolite and desperate for food. Your stomach twirls every time you hear Jimin’s parents' voices, though, which makes you enjoy the taste less.

You’re doing great, you mentally pat yourself on the back. A few more hours and you’ll be back in your room. Just get this over with. 

After pretty much everyone is done eating - your stomach is so full that the dress becomes uncomfortably tight -, Mr. Park gets up from the chair and softly clicks the side of a knife on a crystal glass, enough to call everyone’s attention. You notice when a waiter swiftly places a mic on the table for him.

The band stops. Everyone goes silent. Mr. Park Hyunjun takes the mic, a soft smile adorning his features, as the spotlight focuses on him.

“Good evening once again, my friends.” His deep and elegant voice echoes softly through the speakers. The whole hall greets him back. “I hope everyone enjoyed this amazing dinner prepared by Chef Mauro Bianchi. Mr. Mauro, it is a pleasure to have you with us once again.”

A round of applause. An aggressively Italian man with a cook outfit politely bows and smiles as the spotlight focuses on him in the back of the hall, close to the kitchen doors. Of course Mr. Park only acknowledges the worldwide famous, I-don’t-know-how-many-Michelin-stars holder Chef, but not the entirety of the staff that helped organize and serve everyone. 

“As most of the friends present here already know, me and my dear wife prepare this event every year not only as a celebration of our union, but also as a celebration of all the many achievements and challenges we win throughout the year.” He makes a dramatic pause, his eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone is paying attention - and everyone indeed is; despite your hatred for the man, you can’t deny that with this level of oratory, he could’ve easily been a news anchor.

He offers his hand to help his wife get up from the chair as another round of applause echoes. Mrs. Rattlesnake has a pretty smile, you have to admit. Once again - yeah, they do look great together, and otherwise you’d think this is all too sweet, but there’s just something inherently wrong with this scene… too poised, robotic - trained to detail.

“And past year was indeed one of the most significant of our lives. After much work, Aurum ranked fifth place as one of the biggest steel companies in the world. We’ve achieved heights my parents would’ve never imagined.” He continues. More applause. What does it even have to do with his marriage? “Unity. This is the word for our 30th anniversary. Everything we’ve made and built, we did together - and I’m sure we wouldn’t have gotten this far if we were apart.” Oh, so your fortune was “achieved” because of your wife? I thought it was because of the already rich company your dad left on your hands. 

“And the oyster, my friends, is the perfect symbol of unity; it summons up our life as a couple very well.” He looks at his wife sweetly. You have trouble telling if Mrs. Rattlesnake’s glossy eyes are fake or not. “An oyster. Two shells, pressed together - working together to create the most beautiful pearl. And our pearls, our jewels - the biggest gift this marriage brought us both - is our two sons.”

My God.

You want to vomit.

The applause is a bit louder now as the spotlight focuses on both Jimin and Hyungsik. Both of them smile and wave to the public. If you hadn’t spent the most uncomfortable hours of your life around this family, you would’ve fallen for Mr. Park’s sweet words - but hell no. I mean, it might be true about Hyungsik - but Jimin? The dear son they very publicly disrespected only barely an hour ago, by ignoring his partner? The dear son they mock constantly, scold, disrespect, and want to force into an arranged marriage against his will?

These people genuinely make you sick.

You’re a bit surprised as Jimin grabs your hand under the tablecloth, where no one can see. You take it and squeeze softly. He wants to vomit as much as you do.

“You two are live proof of our love, and we are so proud to know you’re our children.” The applause continues as Mr. Park speaks this time. Kind of funny how he says that while Jimin himself stated that he sees his parents once a year. That’s not the behavior of someone that cares this much. 

“Unity. Family. Love. Friendship. It’s what we’ve been harvesting together for the past 30 years, and I couldn’t be more happy and grateful.” He squeezes his wife’s hand sweetly. “Now, let us celebrate together, my dear friends.”

The lights go off while the hall applauds; the band starts playing again, way louder this time - a melody you’re familiar with - and when all the spotlights focus on the stage-

You gasp loudly.

“What the-?!” You whisper in utter shock. Jimin chuckles.

The woman standing on the stage is… is Kim Gain.

Like, why are you even surprised at this point? What, you thought the Parks would’ve hired a bar singer for their super expensive wedding anniversary? But even so, you didn’t expect to be seeing the 90s love songs’ legend Kim fucking Gain standing a few meters away from you, wearing a gorgeous long silver dress, her beautiful and powerful voice filling the hall as she sings her all-time smash hit Flower Hill. This woman doesn’t even do concerts anymore! You can’t even imagine the insane amount of money they must’ve paid her to do a private concert. 

She sings looking directly at the main couple, and God- despite the age, her voice sounds even better live than recorded. It makes you forget for a while all of tonight’s awful events. You quietly hum along to the lyrics of Flower Hill word by word - it’s impossible to not know this song, not only because it’s a classic, but because it’s your mother’s favorite song and she hammered it into your head.

Your memories are as clear as the blue sky; your mother played her CD over and over again - this song specifically - while she prepared lunch. You helped her peel the boiled eggs, standing on a stool so you’d get tall enough to reach the sink, while she cut cabbage swiftly. You both sang along to Flower Hill. Even your father would hum along eventually as he put the dried bowls on their respective cabinets.

It’s a good childhood memory. One of the few. You remember thinking that your mother looked so beautiful when she wasn’t frowning and angry at you.

And all of sudden - sadness hits you like a truck.

Funny how being humiliated in front of these people didn’t even get close to making you cry the way just thinking of your mother does.

You sigh and look down, that familiar heavy thing growing in your chest, stubborn tears that you blink away before they can even come. Shit shit shit. Don’t you dare to cry here, Y/N, you scold yourself harshly. But goddammit- Mrs. Kim Gain sings really well, and when the chorus hits, you always melt away.

It’s moments like this that remind you that you are, in fact, not indifferent. And you are, in fact, far more hurt that you can put into words.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s hand for comfort.

He eyes you quietly, confused - but chooses to not make any comment.

You elbow Jimin’s side, eyes squinted, as if unsure of what you’re seeing.

“What?” He asks, relaxing on the chair next to yours, now sitting on a table at the external part of the hall. Finally some cool night air; from the external part, you have a wonderful view of the immense garden that goes down the hill directly to the sea. You can see the pier down there; it’s full of parked yachts - much more than during the day - but there’s some in the distance as well, shining against the otherwise pitch black sea like little stars.

“Am I crazy,” you say after sipping more champagne from the glass, “or that’s Kim Minju?”

You discreetly point to a certain girl standing inside the hall. She’s tall and gorgeous, wearing a green sundress. You’re not really into idols - you don’t have time to keep up with celebrities at all - but even someone like you can recognize Kim Minju, the new “it” girl from the new “it” group everyone’s been talking about lately.

Jimin squints his eyes as well, and when he sees who you’re pointing at, he nods. “Yep, it’s her.”

You raise one eyebrow up. “Why are your parents friends with teenage celebrities?”

“They’re friends with her mother.” Jimin sips from his own glass of champagne. He took his blazer off and rolled the shirt up to his elbows, looking much more relaxed now that he can finally stay away from his family. 

Kim Gain finished her concert, which meant people were allowed to just hang around and talk again, while the band kept playing background music. You decided to leave the main table as soon as you could, finding this almost-hidden table at the external balcony (you’re glad it’s this hidden, because it’s getting hard to sit all lady-like with your feet hurting like this. These Givenchy sandals were way too expensive to be this uncomfortable to wear).  Jungkook was hanging out with you two minutes ago, but suddenly something “very important” happened and he had to leave (in other words: some hot girl passed by and he went after her).

“And her mother is…?”

“One of MNET’s biggest shareholders, basically. Why do you think Minju is the most popular member? Her mother pays for her to be the center, to have the best clothes… this kind of thing.” He speaks in a low voice, aware of the people around. “Most popular idols are only popular because their families pay for their popularity.”

“Oh.” Makes sense. You look him up and down, the hint of a playful smile on your lips. “You could’ve asked your parents for help in this area, Jimin. You would’ve made a great idol.”

Jimin chuckles and pushes his hair back. “I know, right? But I don’t think I would survive a day in this life. I mean- a dating ban?” He scowls. “Just no.”

You chuckle too, resting your chin on your palm. You’ve only been sipping champagne - though they’re serving other interesting drinks, too -, afraid to get even slightly intoxicated and embarrass yourself (and Jimin) in front of these people. Even so, this champagne is starting to make you feel a little funny inside. Maybe I should stop.

“How do you even know this dating ban thing is real?” You raise one eyebrow at him. Jimin huffs.

“I had a thing with this idol girl for a while.” He says nonchalantly - then interrupts himself, as if he just realized he said something he shouldn’t. He eyes you apologetically.

“I don’t care if you talk about other girls.” You assure, rolling your eyes. And you actually don’t. It’s not like you have anything real going on for you to care. (You’re quietly blaming your rage fit against Hari earlier today on the alcohol).

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why would I?”

Jimin looks at you in silence.

“Kinda hoped you’d be jealous.”

You laugh it off, furiously ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “Just tell the story, Jimin.”

He seems dramatically disappointed, which makes you giggle again. Jimin sips more champagne and tilts his head.

 “So… me and this girl. Whenever we went out together, we had to literally - I mean literally - hide. Wearing masks, sunglasses, hoodies, all this stuff. At the beginning it was kind of fun, but then it got unbearable. Her manager kept calling her all the time to know where she was. One time, a paparazzi caught us and I had to pay them a shitton of money to not release the photos.”

“Why didn’t she pay for it? Or her company?” You ask, genuinely curious. 

“Because her company didn’t know. She didn’t tell them, scared of getting punished or whatever. And she didn’t have the amount they asked for. So I paid for it.” He shrugs. “Then I broke up with her. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, why did I have to hide?”

“Yeah, sounds like a strict life. I don’t think I could take it, either.”

You notice the way Jimin’s eyes glint with playfulness again; a mischievous smirk adorns his lips. He comes even closer to you and looks around, making sure the people aren’t paying attention to the conversation. 

“Back on the topic of Kim Minju,” he says in that quiet tone that means gossip. “Her mother is lesbian.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really? How do you know?”

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people.” He discreetly points to an elegant woman standing near Kim Minju - maybe just a bit younger than Mrs. Park. “That one.” You squint your eyes to analyze her. “She’s been ‘single’ for around ten years, since her divorce with Minju’s father. She’s, like… the most famous closeted lesbian I’ve ever seen. In terms of how much people I know she fucked, she must be only behind Mr. Junghoon.”

Your eyes widen even more. “Jungkook’s dad?!”

Jimin nods vehemently. “Yep. He must’ve fucked at least half of this hall. All those pretty younger wives.”

You eye Junghoon - standing in the middle of the hall, laughing at something someone said. “Like father, like son, I guess.” Jimin chuckles at this. “I mean, he is very hot for his age.”

“That’s not even the craziest person here.” Jimin narrows his eyes, looking for someone into the crowd. You find yourself entertained by his sudden will to spill people’s lives on you - it even makes you forget how much your feet hurt for a while. When he finds them, he elbows your side lightly. “That couple over there? The Kwons?”

You take around three seconds to find them- a middle aged couple, a bit older than Jimin’s parents, perhaps. They seemed very polite (considering you talked for less than two minutes).

“Yeah?”

“They host massive orgies.” You look at Jimin in pure shock. He looks back at you with his eyebrows raised in that I know, girl expression. “They have a mansion in Malibu only for this purpose. They invite dozens of people to participate.”

You sip more champagne. That conservative looking couple host orgies? They look like the type of people that think women showing their ankles is a sin. Appearances really mean nothing around here! “Were you ever invited?”

“Thank God no. And I wouldn’t go anyway. Not into voyeurism.” Jimin makes a disgusted scowl. “But I know some people that went there. They’re pretty creepy, actually. Just… stay away from them, okay?”

“Noted.” You’ve watched enough documentaries about how rich people can be creepy to know Jimin isn’t kidding.

“There’s also, let’s see… oh! Jinwoo, over there.” He points to a man in his early thirties that you briefly greeted earlier today. “His marriage was arranged, too. I heard he has a severe humiliation kink. He likes to be treated like shit by women.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the bubbling giggle. Not to kinkshame anyone, but wow. “But his wife is not into it at all. From what I’ve heard, they even live in separate houses. So Jinwoo has to pay women to satisfy him.”

“I wouldn’t think that of him… he looks like the type that calls women females.” You remark. 

“People around here look nothing like they actually are.” Jimin sips more champagne. You expectantly wait for him to tell you more - (1) because you like gossiping (2) because this is the most fun you’ve had the entire night. “Oh! Minho and Krystal. Over there.”

Said couple is standing quite far, talking to Jimin’s brother and his wife. They must be in their early thirties, too; an attractive couple that haven’t stepped away from each other the whole time. You briefly remember thinking they looked cute together.

“Yeah?”

“They’re in a forced marriage, too. Minho is gay.”

You pause. “They look genuine.”

“They’re not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I met him in a bar last year in Berlin. He hit on me. Insistently. He’s friends with my brother, so I turned him down. But yeah, I saw him with other guys there.”

You look back at Minho in silence.

Oh.

This one’s kinda sad.

“So… he was forced into marrying a woman even though he’s gay.” You reason out loud. “Does his family know?”

“Probably not. At least, they pretend they don’t.” Jimin sips more champagne with a sour expression.

“That’s fucked up in so many levels.” You’re starting to get angry just talking about it. “He’s trapped with this woman, having to pretend his entire life? All for the sake of appearances? What, are we stuck in the XVIII century and nobody told me?”

“I told you that’s how things work around here.” He says, staring at the bubbles in his champagne glass.

And he actually told you. In your third encounter, back at the convenience store. But you didn’t believe him. It felt too far from your reality to be taken seriously. Now, though - after finding out that most of these pristine looking people, the “role models” of society are in secret what they most demonize - you truly realize how awful everything is. This much hypocrisy feels repulsive, overwhelming.

Is this how Jimin has been feeling his entire life?

“What about you, Jimin?” you ask quietly, any hint of playfulness gone from your face and voice.

“What about me?”

“What if you’re stuck in this situation? I mean, I remember what you told me back then. What if you want to marry a guy? Your parents would be against it… are you going to end like Minho? Having to pretend for the rest of your life? Can you accept this?”

Jimin sighs and hangs his head back, closing his eyes. You hate it because for a moment all you can look at is his half parted plump lips and your brain malfunctions for a sec.

“Let’s not talk about me, please?” He asks in a whiny, raspy voice.

“Why not? I’m worried about you. Can’t I be worried?” You put one hand on your hip, somehow starting to feel offended.

“No, you can’t.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Yeah, you’re offended now. “Okay, then. I’m sorry for caring.”

Jimin looks at you with half opened eyes.

His voice drops.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“What?” You raise one eyebrow up.

“Act like you actually care.”

“Why do you think I’m acting?” You slightly push the empty champagne glass away, so nothing is between you two. Because he’s quieter, you unconsciously drop your voice, too.

“You said so. Method acting.” 

You’re getting tired of this “method acting” thing. You inhale heavily. “Well, I’m not acting right now.”

Jimin drops his eyes to his own empty champagne glass, drumming his fingers on the table softly. He makes a small pout. His lips are so damn attractive. “You know, I’m conflicted about you.”

“Please elaborate.”

“I know I shouldn’t be expecting anything real from you at all, since I hired you to be here. But why do I feel that something real is going on?” He looks up at you again. “But then, sometimes, I feel like it’s not? I don’t know what to think of you.”

Holy Shit.

He went straight to the point.

You feel goosebumps on your spine (though you try to blame it on the cool breeze hitting your back, not on Jimin’s piercing gaze, of course). It’s kind of creepy how Jimin can balance being silly and cute in a moment and then boom - painfully straightforward a second later. He didn’t beat around the bush at all.

And yeah, you get what he meant.

You can’t tell if something real is going on. It’s way too early to say something “real” - whatever it is - is happening; you barely even know Jimin. At the same time he doesn’t know if you’re serious, you don’t know if he is being serious; many times, it feels like he’s acting, putting up a character around you. The way you’re rapidly getting attached to him is scary - what if you’re getting attached to a character? What if you’re surprised by Jimin’s real persona in the worst way possible?

You have no idea about any of that.

What you know, though - something that is very real, is almost visible - is the undeniable attraction you feel for each other.

This isn’t deep. You don’t have to think much about it.

And right now - with the alcohol subtly fogging your judgment and making you feel hot inside; the accumulated tension - you don’t really want to fight back anymore. You don’t want to think of consequences. All you can think of is his pretty plump lips.

You smirk, resting your face on your palm again. You see how this single look of yours affects him. You’re not the only one that can do this, Jimin.

“You know,” your voice is very quiet right now; half lidded eyes that stare back at him with the same intensity. “Knowing everything isn’t fun. I think it’s better this way.”

You’re still in public, but it’s like everyone else becomes distant. 

Jimin smirks, too.

“Let’s play a game, then.” He says all of sudden, getting even closer to you, on the edge of his seat. “I’ll ask a few questions. You can answer them or not.”

You feel his hand on your leg, under the tablecloth.

This makes you widen your eyes, surprised, looking around discreetly. “What are you doing?”

“You said your feet hurt, pretty.” Oh shit. That mischievous tone, playful smile, glinting eyes. You’re a popsicle melting under his heat. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to giggle, as Jimin rests your left leg over his own legs. “Free massage.”

You’re kind of hidden - your leg is fully under the tablecloth - but you still look around frantically, trying not to make any weird face. “Jimin- they’ll see us.”

Jimin clicks his tongue at the same time he swiftly unbuckles your sandal and places it on the floor. Your heart beats faster with adrenaline - if any auntie sees this, they might want to arrest me! “They’re not paying attention to us.”

Indeed, no one is. Mr. and Mrs. Park are having a dance in the center of the hall; most of the crowd surrounds them. The place became dimly lit as the spotlight focuses only on the couple as they sway to a romantic tune and everyone watches them.

You’re about to make another complaint, but as both of his hands hold your aching foot, pressing it - you have to fight back what would be an obscene moan. It feels too good. Jimin chuckles.

“So, back on the game.” It’s criminal how he acts like he’s doing nothing wrong as his hands massage your foot. “Did you want to hook up with Hoseok?”

This comes so out of the blue that you freeze. “What made you think that?”

“I saw the way you looked at each other.”

Well. It’s not like Hoseok tried to pretend when he first saw you. “No. He’s hot, but no.”

Jimin nods. He seems satisfied with the answer. His hands work around your feet miraculously, pressing on the right spots, easing the pain. 

They go a bit up. On your ankles now.

Oh God.

“Did you want to hook up with Jungkook?” Still not looking at you.

“No.” You chuckle. “What got into you? Are you jealous?”

“I don’t know, am I?” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs, making you smile. “I’d only be jealous if something real was going on between us, right?”

His hands are traveling up your leg, still massaging as they do. You gulp heavily. Your heart beats faster.

“Right.”

Your thigh.

You gasp quietly as, in a sudden movement, he pushes you even closer to his body. The chair scratches on the floor. You’re glad the music is loud enough to mask the noise. 

His hands are warm. His smirk widens.

Jimin massages your thigh slowly. You don’t make any attempt to stop him. His hands are resting just a little distant from the hem of your dress. 

You want them to be under it. 

Yes, you are very much aware of all the people standing around, the things they’d think if they notice what is going on. But Jimin’s hands are on your thigh and you feel hotter inside every minute and his delicious lips are right there and holy fuck he’s enjoying torturing you as much as you enjoy being tortured and- you don’t even remember what you were worrying about a second ago.

“You’re so soft.” He says in a quiet, sultry voice that makes your insides quiver. “Are you feeling better now, pretty?”

“Mmmh-hmm” you say quietly as your breath gets deeper - which makes Jimin smile even more. “You’re good at this, did you know that? You have a hidden talent.”

He chuckles darkly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I could show you what else I can do with this talent of mine.”

His fingers - slowly, hesitantly - travel just a bit upwards, while he eyes you tentatively. He sees no disapproval or discomfort in your expression, which only ignites his excitement. He smirks and shakes his head slightly. 

“I’m actually going insane because of you, Y/N.” The smirk in his voice makes yet another goosebump run through your system. In response, you tilt your head to the side, eyeing him innocently.

“Why? I’m not doing anything.” You bite the tip of your tongue while smiling, which makes Jimin gulp.

Oh, the electricity. It almost sparks in the air with the power of a lightning. And to think you were trying to act all chaste not long ago, gaslighting yourself into thinking that doing anything with him would be equivalent as “selling yourself”.

Who fucking cares?

“Last question.” He says quietly, leaning even closer to you until his lips are right by your ear, sending shivers of excitement down your body. 

“Will you let finally let me fuck you?”

The words get stuck in your throat.

Jimin hasn’t been this obscenely straightforward up until now. It makes your mouth water, your heart beat faster. His voice wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. Like he was desperate for you and couldn’t take it anymore.

And that’s your last straw.

You lean away just enough to look at him. Fuck, he’s got pleading eyes, too. Your panties feel humid, you remember the last time you had sex was three months ago, you feel his warm hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your intimacy. 

You smile and, in a swift movement, move your leg away from his hand.

Jimin looks confused for a moment, his smile faltering, as you take the sandal and put it on your foot once again. He looks even more confused - maybe thinking you got offended? - when you get up and adjust your dress.

Then you look at him.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the toilet.”

Without looking back, you take the clutch from the table and make your way inside the hall.

The main couple is still having their moment in the middle of the hall - and for the first time you’re thankful to them, because no one even bats an eye as you discreetly make your way to the restroom. The dim lights hide you, not even waiters or security guards or photographers notice you. 

As you get into the black marble restroom - completely empty - you have around five seconds to look at your reflection in the mirror before Jimin walks in and shuts the door.

His lips on yours shut you mid-giggle.

Jimin grabs the back of your neck and glues his body on yours with the other hand as he hungrily kisses you - the kiss tastes like the cherry from your lipgloss and expensive champagne. You grab both sides of his neck as Jimin and you stumble to one of the stalls and you close the door clumsily. Holy fucking shit, it’s getting hot. The kiss is deep and desperate and full of desire. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says in a breathy voice that makes you smile seductively. “Why you gotta do this to me?”

You unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another as he leaves a wet kiss on your neck; you grab his shoulders for support. “I’m not doing anything yet.”

He chuckles darkly against your skin, his hot breath increases your temperature even more. His hand travels down your back to squeeze your ass, making you gasp lightly. He leaves one more wet kiss, and another, and another.

Jimin leans away so he can look at you. His lips are reddish, wet and a bit swollen. 

“You don’t need to.” He parts your legs with his own. Your insides bubble with excitement. “Look at you… all dolled up. The prettiest of all of them out there.” He licks his lips slowly. “I want to make a mess of you, Y/N. I want to see how pretty you look with your hair and makeup ruined by me.”

His knee presses on your intimacy, making you involuntarily sigh; the pressure is still too soft, not even close to satisfying the raging fire inside your body, but it already makes you gulp and breath heavier. God, you want this man inside of you. You need him. 

Jimin notices your change in expression and his smirk widens as he moves his knee against you, making you sigh again. You kiss him eagerly. There’s still music out there, but all you can hear is the kissing sounds and breaths and Jimin’s deep humm of approval.

“This is the face I wanted to see the most.” He whispers on your lips, his leg pressed against you, his hands caressing your waist and hips. “Let me make you feel good, pretty… please?” He pecks your lips. “Hmm?” He bites your bottom lip lightly, passing his tongue on it right after. “Can I fuck you now?”

Shit shit shit. It’s embarrassing how you already feel this wet while you barely even started. Were you this much touch starved? Or is it because you’ve been wanting this as much as him since the beginning?

You kiss him again.

“Not here.” you whisper in a breathy voice.

Jimin nods. It’s obvious. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

Back to your shared bungalow? It’s too far from here - only five minutes by car, yes, but you don’t think you can wait this long. Not to mention Mr. Zhou would be the one to drive you both back and you don’t want to look at that old man’s face before having sex.

Inside some car? But which car? This place is full of butlers and security guards, anyone would notice what’s going on. Just no.

As you’re about to ask where you could head to - Jimin’s eyes glint in that way that tells you he had an idea. 

His smirk widens.

He steps back and grabs your hand with a boyish, playful expression.

“Let’s go.”

You have time to grab the forgotten clutch from over the sink before Jimin drags you out of the restroom - luckily, the hall is still dimly lit and there aren’t many people back here. Discreetly, you two make your way towards the back exit - avoiding butlers and photographers at the main entrance - stepping out of the hall towards the stairs.

You finally realize where Jimin is heading to when you get to the sidewalk and he takes a turn to the left.

The pier.

Dozens of parked and empty yachts just around the corner.

You’re both laughing childishly as you run towards the pier - stopping only so you can yank those sandals off; who the hell could run in stilettos? - not caring to look back, feeling excitement and just the sheer joy of doing something you know you shouldn’t. The pier is quiet, there aren’t many people around; most yachts are dark. Jimin doesn’t drop your hand as he squints his eyes trying to find a specific one. When he does, he sprints towards it, dragging you along.

Jungkook’s yacht.

Completely dark. Cleaners, bartenders, all the staff are long gone, having finished their shifts long ago. 

There is a security guard standing in front of the entrance stairs, though.

He frowns as you two approach.

“Hey!” Jimin says in a happy voice. “You’re… Steven, right? Remember me? We were here earlier today.”

By the looks of it, his name is Steven, and he looks shocked that Jimin remembers it. “Good evening, sir. Did you need something?”

“You see, Steven, I might have forgotten something very important in the yacht.” Jimin says. You want to laugh. “I’d like to go check it out.”

“Of course, sir. Tell me what it is, I can ask another guard to check it for you-“

Jimin steps closer.

“No, Steven. I need to check it out. It’s kind of personal, you know?”

Steven eyes you and Jimin back and forth. 

The penny drops. His frown deepens. You’re not even embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t let you in.” He says in a mix of hesitance and annoyance. “This is private property.”

“I know, Steven, and I’m glad my friend hired such a diligent security guard. You’re very professional.” Jimin is a bastard, isn’t he? “I promise I won’t get you in trouble. Just let me check, okay?”

Steven looks around. “I’m sorry, sir… I really can’t.” 

Jimin nods.

He drops your hand for the first time, reaching for the inside of his back pocket. 

You watch with your jaw dropped as he opens his wallet and puts a stack of money on Steven’s hand.

Jimin casually walks around with stacks of money in his wallet.

The security guard’s eyes are as widened as yours. That much money must be double - shit, triple - of what he’ll get for this shift. You see as his annoyance dissolves and his resolve to not let you in disappears.

“It’s a really tiny thing I’m looking for, so it’ll take, I don’t know… an hour?” Jimin looks back at you up and down and reaches for his wallet again. He takes another stack just as big and puts it on Steven’s hand. “Two hours, actually, to check the whole place.”

Steven gulps. It seems he’s furiously fighting against his work ethic - but the money on his hand is heavier. 

Steven steps aside, finally giving up. “Okay, sir.”

Jimin smiles and grabs your hand again. “Make sure to keep the other guards away, okay? Thank you so much!”

You two sprint up the stairs - you have time to mumble an embarrassed “thank you” - towards the deck.

The yacht is completely dark, except for some emergency lights. Jimin guides you around it. You know there are actual bedrooms here, but both of you are way too impatient to go up one more flight of stairs - so before you can even process what’s happening, Jimin has thrown you against the bar counter and is kissing you again.

You drop the sandals and the clutch on the wooden floor before entangling your arms around Jimin’s neck. He presses his body on yours so hard that you lean back, your back hits the counter. And to think you were right here a few hours ago, surrounded by a bunch of people; it’s a completely different vibe with the lights off, silent, the darkness of the sea around you. 

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s ass, which makes him chuckle against your lips. He leans away for a moment and seems to be searching for something; with a click of his, the glass top of the counter lits up - there are red led lights under it. Both him and you are painted red. 

Jimin looks at you with hungry eyes, out of breath. That damn smirk.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this, pretty.” He pushes you closer again, grabbing your hair and leaving noisy kisses on your neck.

“I think I do.” You say cockily. You’ve been aching for him all this time - and it’ even embarrassing to admit it to yourself -; it’s embarrassing that Jimin is everything you learned to hate (filthy rich, arrogant, a fuck boy) from your past experiences, but shit, you’ve been wondering how he would feel inside of you all this time, you’ve been craving him since that night in your tiny apartment… and you’ve been wondering if he fucks as good as he talks.

Your hand bravely travels to his front. You rest your palm on his crotch, gently pressing it - earning a soft sigh from him. He’s stone hard. It makes you chuckle cockily against his ear, and the sensual sound sends shivers down Jimin’s spine. 

“No, no, no… you don’t really know.” His lips are on your ear as he speaks quietly and deeply. While one of his hands are still tightly entangled in your hair, the other travels down your back - which already almost makes you melt - to rest on your ass; in a slow but unhesitant movement, he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up to your hips, fully exposing your ass. “Ever since that time at the store…” he massages your asscheeks with both palms and squeezes it gently. You lick his neck in response. “When you looked at me with such disdain… you were reading a fucking text book behind that counter, looking at me as if you were so much better than me… I imagined fucking you over that same counter, pretty.” Goosebumps. He grabs one of your thighs and you instinctively wrap it around his waist; when he humps his clothed core against yours, you can’t fight back a soft moan. “I imagined fucking you over and over again. Such a hard-working girl…” He humps again, stronger this time. “So pretty…”

Your impatient fingers search for the lapel of his blazer, and you help him take it off, dropping it on the floor; you grab his face with both hands and your lips are pressed again in a hot dance, while he still humps slowly and sensually; each rub on your clothed clit sends electricity and heat through your veins. Your lower part is almost totally uncovered, except for the black lace thong you wear, and the cool ocean breeze makes the tiny hairs on your body raise. Everything is red and hot. Some sane part of your brain registers that if there’s anyone inside the neighbor yachts, they will totally see what’s happening - and it only adds to the excitement.

Jimin breaks the kiss and leans back slightly with half lidded eyes. His lips are shiny and stained with your lipgloss. He’s so sexy that the vision itself makes you feel pleasure.

He grips your ass tightly and watches intently as his movements make your breath get deeper each time, makes you sigh and moan softly. His breathing is deeper, too; his Adam’s apple moves when he gulps. He licks his bottom lip sensually, feeling the taste of your sweet lipgloss. He keeps you glued to his body as both of you move your hips against each other, rubbing your clothed intimacies to a more urgent pace; there are already droplets of sweat starting to cover his forehead. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, watching you whimper. 

“Touch me.” Your voice sounds strangled and slightly out of breath, which makes Jimin smile darkly. “Please.”

“Baby, you don’t need to beg.” He’s so visibly proud of himself and excited that he’s almost glowing more than the red led lights. The hand that supported your leg swiftly travels to your front and he unashamedly presses it on your clothed core, feeling the lace with his fingertips and the wetness underneath. The smile widens. “I’m going to give you anything you want tonight. Anything.”

Your head drops back when he starts to move his fingers in circular movements over your clit. He watches your every reaction intently with that same darkened gaze and smile. With the other hand, he grabs the back of your neck and once again glues his lips to your ear: 

“I want to hear you moan for me, baby.”

He says as his fingers slip under the fabric of the thong.

You shiver and an obscene whimper leaves your lips when his cool fingers make contact with your warm, wet intimacy. He hums in approval - and the deep sound makes your legs shake -, feeling your arousal, before once again putting pressure on your clit and moving his fingers in provocative circles. That’s a man that knows what to do with a clit, by the way. You entrance tightens around nothing.

“You like that?” He whispers. You nod, eyes closed, lips half parted. “Hmmm…” is all you can say. His smile widens.

Instinctively, you start to buck your hips, following the movement of his hand. He increases the speed of his movements, noticing your eagerness. You feel the fire spreading from your core down your legs and stomach.

With a quiet chuckle, he suddenly wraps his other arm around your waist. You let a surprised gasp as Jimin lifts you from the ground with ease and makes you sit over the counter (you hadn’t realized that Jimin is that strong, which is kind of hot).

He stands between your legs and kisses you again. Your fingers run through his smooth hair; he massages your thighs, back and ass. You softly bite his delicious bottom lip, and it’s sick how you know he’s smiling before even opening your eyes.

“You want me so bad, baby. It’s kind of cute.” He breathes amidst a quiet chuckle. 

“You’re talking too much.” 

He chuckles again as his fingers search for the zipper on the back of your dress. “I can’t shut up when you’re around.” The quiet sound of the zipper somehow sounds loud right now. “I want you to pay attention to me and only me.”

“You have all of my attention now. Let’s see if you deserve it.” Jimin finds it sickening how you sound innocent and sweet as you say this, gazing at him with the most daring eyes he’s ever seen. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s see.”

Usually, you’d worry about taking the dress off, scared to damage it somehow, but as Jimin helps you lift it and put it over your head, you couldn’t care less. You’re not wearing a bra. Your chest is fully exposed; you rest your hands back on the counter, gazing at Jimin sweetly, as he almost drools over your body. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He breathes heavily, mesmerized. Without wasting a second, he cups your breasts with both hands and squeezes them gently, earning a hum of approval from you. He kisses your neck, making his way down - slow, wet, loud kisses -, tasting you; you grip and massage his smooth hair, pulling it softly in ways that make him shiver.

When he hungrily mouths one of your hardened nipples, you bite your bottom lip and a soft moan escapes. Just the vision of his plump lips wrapped around your nipple makes you wetter. He swirls his warm, wet tongue around it, while his hand still works on your other breast, massaging it in delicious movements. He sucks your nipple, making a loud noise, before biting it gently - earning a hiss from you.

“I like that sound.” He says against your skin, looking up at you with a smile. “God, you’re delicious.” He kisses a spot on your stomach, under your breast. “You smell so good…” Another kiss. Lower this time. “I want to eat you.”

You giggle, biting your lip provocatively - as if his actions aren’t making you go insane. “Then do it.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he shakes his head; his smile is angelical - even though, right now, with the red light painting his face as he helps you position your feet on the counter - your hands supporting the weight of your body as you lean back slightly, totally spread and exposed for him -, he looks like a hungry demon.

God. You never had sex in such an open place before. The ocean breeze hits your body, making you shiver, at the same time that you’re burning from the inside, trembling in expectation. Jimin takes the hem of your thong and helps you take it off slowly, well aware of how painful making you wait is. He drops the last piece of clothing to the floor before grabbing the insides of your thighs, spreading you even more.

You’re naked and open over a bar counter, where anyone from the neighboring yachts can see you, with a million dollar necklace around your neck - and you’ve never been so aroused before.

Jimin licks his lips, eyes locked on your cunt. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” You bite your bottom lip hard when his fingers press on your clit in circular movements again for some moments before spreading your pussy lips with his index and pointed finger. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

He wraps his lips on your clit.

You throw your head back and actually moan this time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - his plump lips around your clit feel like heaven, much better than what your dirty mind could think of. He sucks softly and licks you, from your entrance to your clit again, flicking his tongue over it (once again - that’s a man that knows what to do with a clit). His warm, wet muscle moving against your most sensitive part makes waves of heat and raw pleasure run through your body, completely clouding your mind, as your fingers grip his hair and moans and hisses escape through your lips. Your sounds of pleasure, the wet noises he makes as he sucks you and the ocean waves create the most obscene and beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck-“ you manage to breathe out somehow. If he weren’t busy sucking your clit, he would’ve smirked cockily. “Feel so good, baby…”

He leans away for a moment, actually smirking this time. His lips are so wet that the sight makes you more wet. “Shit, if you call me like that again, I will cum in my pants.”

This makes you smile - but your smile goes away quickly as he carefully introduces two fingers inside of you, making you moan and bite your bottom lip. You’re so wet that they slide in easily - but you’re also very tight due to not being penetrated in a while, which makes Jimin move slowly. He watches your cunt with the attention of a professional. Fuck, he might be a pro at this, actually.

He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, making you lose your breath; Jimin pays attention to your every reaction. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, nodding, still biting your bottom lip. Jimin looks up at you with a fog in his eyes.

“You look so fucking hot right now, Y/N.” Somehow, the way he calls your name in that low tone instead of pretty sends goosebumps down your spine. He keeps eye contact while his fingers keep moving inside of you. He starts pulling them in and out, and you close your eyes for a moment, feeling shockwaves of pleasure every time he does so. Your breath gets shallow and quick, and out of instinct, you start bucking your hips, following his movements.

He mouths your clit once again while his fingers are still busy, making you moan louder. “R-Right there, Jimin-“ you stutter in a breathless voice. “Just like that…”

You don’t need to ask twice - he keeps hitting the same spot as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it, slurping all of your juices. You grip his hair for dear life, incapable of doing anything but moan and hiss and sweat, feeling your legs shake. You also think Jimin looks so fucking hot right now - head between your legs, hair an absolute mess (your fault), wet lips and the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

It might be because you’ve been touch starved for a while, or because Jimin eats pussy too well, or because you’ve been dreaming of this moment with him - but you already feel the orgasm building up. “Don’t fucking stop,” you beg him - and he obeys, sucking and licking mercilessly; maybe even Steven down there can hear the squelching noise your pussy makes every time his fingers move, or your moans that make Jimin feel the hardest he’s ever been. A small pool of your juices forms on the glass under you, dripping from your entrance. Jimin works on your cunt like his life depends on it. You feel the overwhelming heat building up in your stomach, your body shaking, your lungs failing-

You grip Jimin’s hair hard and yank him away from your pussy as the orgasm hits (you pulled so hard that it hurt his scalp - and he loved it); he also loved how tight you clenched his fingers as the orgasm made you convulse, just imagining how it would feel to be inside you. He watches you with pride, all covered in sweat and helpless, your face contorted in pleasure. 

He takes his fingers out of you slowly, standing straight again to press his lips on yours - and you don’t care to taste yourself on his lips. Your legs are still weak and trembling when one of his arms once again wraps around your waist and he helps you stand up on the floor, never breaking apart.

“Baby, I need you around me.” He whispers between kisses - and it almost sounds like a whimper, which makes your legs even weaker. “Will you get on your knees for me? Hmm?”

It’s your turn to obey promptly - Jimin ate you out so good that he deserves it. Without saying anything, and still keeping eye contact, you get on your knees, batting your lashes prettily at him while your fingers work on his belt. Jimin takes some strands of hair away from your face, mesmerized; ever since you first met, he always looked at you in a way that made you feel attractive, and right now it has just increased tenfold.

Jimin unzips his pants and frees his cock from his black boxers. You gulp at the sight of his girthy, veiny cock; he’s stone hard, pulsating, and you wonder exactly how long he’s been hard already. He pumps himself slowly, while you once again lock eyes. 

“Shit- you look even better than I imagined.” He says in a low, breathy tone. Just the fact that your usually fierce and unbashful persona is obediently kneeled down in front of his dick, looking up at him with sweet round eyes (you’re too good at this), eyes clouded still recovering from your high, almost sends him over the edge. 

You stick your tongue out and lick his pink tip, immediately earning a hiss of pleasure. Your lips wrap around the tip and you suck gently at first, teasing him, never breaking eye contact, while he still pumps himself. Jimin gulps, licking his wet lips; the sight itself makes you tighten your pussy around nothing. 

“Open your mouth for me.” He says - and this time it doesn’t sound like he’s asking, meaning he’s more desperate. You promptly do so, sticking your tongue out again. He slaps his cock against your tongue, hissing - and it’s fucking evil how you’re smiling right now, he thinks - while his other hand grips the hair at the top of your head firmly.

He pushes in. Fuck - he’s big and fat and you gag around him, but at the same time, he tastes delicious, if it even makes sense. Jimin closes his eyes and throws his head back, starting to roll his hips against your face, as his hand still keeps your head in place and your lips tighten around his cock. 

“Shit– you look so good with my cock stuffed down your throat,” he hisses, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Drool and spit drip from the corners of your mouth, you gag and whimper, but it’s the daring gaze locked on his that tells Jimin he can just keep going. “So obedient, baby, taking me like a big girl… fuck– I want to cum all over your face.”

You hum with his dick in your mouth, sending vibrations that make him groan with pleasure. His balls slap on your chin every time he thrusts, and you keep your lips tightened around him, trying to give him the pressure he needs. There’s something sensual about you being naked while he’s still fully clothed - and you never thought you’d feel this way for anyone. He looks so hot with sweat covering his forehead, strands of hair falling over eyes, half lidded eyes and parted lips in a face of pure pleasure; fuck, you’d let him fuck your throat whenever he wanted, you’d suck him forever if it meant you would have this sight every time you did it.

His grunts and moans and hisses make you melt every time, even though his movements become more and more uncomfortable as he stuffs himself in your throat in quick thrusts that make you whimper and feel tears grow in your eyes. As if sensing this, Jimin yanks you off his cock and you gasp for air. He smiles at how messy you look right now, with drool dripping from your mouth and a thin layer of sweat over your forehead. 

“C’mere,” he breathes out, helping you get up and hurriedly guiding you towards a nearby sun lounger. Closer to the yacht’s balcony, the ocean breeze hits your body harder, making you shiver. “How do you want me to fuck you, hm?”

Without saying a word, you smile devilishly before getting on your fours for him; you arch your back and purr like a cat, ass up, chest touching the lounger. You're still smiling and biting your lip when you look at him from over your shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of your stretched pussy.

Jimin steps closer and massages your asscheek before slapping hard, earning you a soft hiss. “You’re amazing. Can’t stop saying that. You’re perfect, baby.” He grips your hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to your entrance, getting the tip wetter with your juices. “You’re so good that you make me wanna fuck you raw, baby.”

Truth is - you didn’t even think of protection, and you couldn’t care less in this moment, as wrong as it is - but God, when Jimin finally pushes in, stretching your pussy as both of you moan in pleasure, you couldn’t be more thankful that his cock is uncovered so you can feel his skin purely.

Your breathing fails and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight, adjusting to the pressure and the slight pain it causes. Jimin pushes balls deep in, slowly at first, throwing his head back in delight. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, pretty…”

He starts to thrust in and out, making you moan each time with the glorious friction you desired so much. “Fuck– f-feel so good, Jimin…” you purr, arching your back even more. He grips both sides of your hips firmly, increasing speed with each thrust; the sound of skin hitting skin repeatedly is everything you can hear beside yours and Jimin’s moans and grunts.

Every nerve in your body seems to be on fire. His cock punches deep into your pussy, pushing you closer and closer to actual insanity as your mind becomes incapable of noticing anything but the feeling of him hammering inside of you over and over again, his strong grip on your hips, stuffing you even better than you had fantasized. Sweat covers all of your body now, and the necklace hurts your collarbones since you’re pressed against the lounger, but you couldn’t care less right now. 

“I love hearing you moan, pretty.” He sounds out of breath and sexy. You gasp in surprise when, suddenly, he grips your hair and pulls it, forcing your head back. It burns your scalp; you hiss in pain, but the pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure and somehow doubles it. “Fuck– this pussy’s all mine. You’re all mine.”

You never thought Jimin was the possessive type, but people babble whatever comes to their minds when they fuck, right? That’s why, mindlessly, you have the audacity to agree: “Y-Yeah, baby, I’m all yours– ah!”

He pulls your hair even harder at the same time he takes it all out just to slam himself balls deep in again in a way that lets you see stars and drool. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck– he’s merciless, relentless in his quick pace, ruthless in the way he grips you and spanks your ass - but, at the same time, his mouth is full of praises, grunting how good you feel or how pretty you are.

You whine in protest when he pulls out entirely without warning. “Turn around, I want to watch you getting fucked.”

Once again, you do as he said without complaints - but instead of immediately laying back again, your hurried fingers unbutton his shirt and you make him take it off, which Jimin does gladly, since the fabric was already glued to his body due to how much he was sweating. You lay back; Jimin grabs your legs and puts both knees over his shoulders.

He takes his cock with one hand while the other holds one of your thighs, slapping it on your clit a few times. You watch his face distort with pleasure when he pushes inside of you again. Jimin picks a fast pace from the beginning, holding both of your thighs, focused as if he’s on a mission; all you can do is moan and whimper helplessly, massaging your own breasts while Jimin drives both of you closer to your highs.

He watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, your face covered with sweat, the way not even the ruined makeup makes you look ugly - and the fact that you’re wearing anything but diamonds somehow arouses him even more. You clench around him, pushing Jimin closer and closer to the edge. Neither of you are worrying about being quiet right now, and you can only hope that the ocean will be your ally in muffling your desperate moans.

But you’re suddenly forced to worry about it.

The sound of voices and steps yank both of you back to reality at the same time. 

Jimin stops moving. You and him look to the stairs barely five meters away at the same time.

Two voices coming closer.

“Sir, please-” you hear. It’s Steven’s voice - worried, almost freaked out.

And the second voice-

“B-But I’m sure I left it here somewhere…”

You both recognize it instantly.

A very drunk Jungkook.

You look back at Jimin with horror, eyes open wide, as he lets go of your legs and lays on top of you instead, shushing you. 

“Sir, please,” Steven’s panicked voice echoes again. “As I told you, the upper floors were waxed… you can’t go upstairs, it’ll ruin your shoes,” yeah, he came up with a smart excuse. But Jungkook keeps babbling about losing something, too drunk to understand.

If he comes upstairs, he’ll immediately see you. You’re not in a hidden spot at all. You want to get up and hurry away-

But then you look at Jimin again and he’s smirking devilishly.

He thrusts again, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

Before you can moan - he covers your mouth with his hand.

Your eyes talk. Are you seriously doing this?

His eyes talk back. Yeah.

He thrusts again.

And again.

Your eyes roll back, you entangle your legs around his waist. Fuck, these men down there could come upstairs at any moment. They can hear you if you’re loud enough. If they come upstairs and see you in this situation, you don’t know if you’ll get over the embarrassment. But Jimin’s cock is stuffing you so deep and so good. He hits your spot again, and again, and again, and his dick is thick and heavy, and he could tear you open that you wouldn’t mind - so you don’t push Jimin away. No, you tighten your legs around him because don’t he dare stop; you grip his back, you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but the fact that Jimin can still hear your muffled moans against his hand makes it hard for him to endure this much longer.

He hides his face on your neck in an attempt to muffle his own moans, biting your shoulder in a torturous slower pace now - if he goes too hard, the sound of skin hitting skin will be heard from the floor below. A part of your mind registers that Steven is desperately trying to lead Jungkook out of the yacht, while all the other parts are focused on Jimin’s member inside of you, his weight over your body, his teeth sinked on your shoulder. You can’t stop, neither does he. It’s like you’re in some type of trance.

After long, torturous minutes, you hear the voices going away.

Jimin is ruthless.

He lets go of your mouth and supports his body with his forearms on both sides of your face, pounding in despair; neither of you can take this much longer, it’s getting painful.

“F-Fuck, pretty, you did so well-” he somehow manages to breathe out, smirking in boyish excitement. “Such an obedient girl, hmpf, keeping quiet while I fuck you good…”

“Oh my God–” you whimper, feeling the second - and more intense - orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. “D-Don’t fucking stop, Jimin–”

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you cum again–” he swiftly leans away and places one leg over his shoulder again, spreading you in an even better angle. “You deserve it, baby- shit, shit, shit–”

He punches inside of you over and over and over again until your walls are clenched and convulsing and your toes curl and your eyes roll and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight and your whole body shakes in an explosive orgasm. You’re breathless, weak; it was an almost out of body experience. Did you ever cum this hard before? You don’t think so.

And it’s not time to think of yourself, actually, because when your brain starts recovering from the high, you realize that Jimin had pulled out and is pumping his cock desperately, trying to reach his high. You grab his wrist, stopping him, and - Jimin almost loses it - you meow: “C’mere, come in my mouth.”

You sit up and he kneels over you until his member is on your face and, without wasting a second, you put it all into your mouth until you feel him in your throat, sucking him eagerly. Jimin moans and grips your hair while you pump your head over his length, producing loud suction noises. You just want him to cum as hard and good as he made you.

“Fuck– fuck, Y/N, I’m coming–” he warns in pant, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

You still keep it open, though, sticking your tongue out, as Jimin blows his load on you. You feel his hot seed dripping on your face, feel it on your lips and tongue. You patiently wait until he’s milked dry. Then, you open your eyes.

Jimin’s hair is an absolute mess. He’s all sweaty, panting heavily, face flushed, shaking slightly; you’ve never seen him look so glorious.

He opens a tired smirk.

And, with your gaze locked with his, you lick your lips and swallow.

It’s like he came again just seeing you do this.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

It is your turn to chuckle.

Yeah.

Maybe you will.

You let cum drip on a million dollar necklace.

[idungoofed]

A Spaceman In My Backyard - Prologue

A/N: SO, didn't think I'd actually do it but I only went and actually wrote the prologue for A Space Man In My Backyard! - and I don't hate it! I've had this idea in my head for the last 3? years, and finally got it to a point where I felt it was cohesive enough that I could actually start writing it. This is going to be super-self indulgent, slow burn, canon divergent, written in first person. Primarily a comedy, and mature themes throughout so 18+ only. I will try include warnings before each chapter that includes smut, violence, or topics that could be distressing but I'm not going to go mad, feel free to scroll away at any time. If there are no warnings then there's no warnings to give. Thank you to all that takes the time to read this❤️

Summary: Set a year after Earth has been struck by a mystery virus, and everyday life has been halted; leaving only the essentials to human life running. This unfortunately meant for Cate and her secluded campsite in the Welsh mountains, that it's stream of visiting campers turned off lie a tap. Forcing her to realise her once bustling social life of running a campsite was only superficial, and who did she have now she was forced to be alone but herself? Mean while, Din is an emotional wreck having given a part of him away in handing Grogu over to the Jedi, and breaking his creed in the process. He feels the once endless galaxy closing in on him, and he needs to get away. Far away.

Warnings: Feelings relating to depression/ anxiety, mentions of a pandemic

Word count: 2,000+ Rating: 18+ Only

Din

Din hurtled through space, the stars streaking past as his gloved hands firmly held the controls of the Razor Crest. His helmed head creates the illusion of stoicism while the man’s stare underneath holds the weight of emotional turmoil. The Armourers words still haunting him from days past.You are a Mandalorian no more. He still grieved for the loss of Grogu from his life but was proud to find where he belonged with the Jedi, even if it felt like ripping a piece of him away. He felt guilt and shame for removing his helmet, but also heartened that Grogu got to see the face of his protector, his carer, and in the end, his father before they had to say goodbye.   After Din handed Grogu over to the Jedi, it felt like his sense of purpose went along with him. He’d protected, cared and fought for the child, and made it his mission for the past year to find where the kid belonged, only to wish it was with him when it was too late.    Din was numb from his losses as he travelled aimlessly through the galaxy, his mind reeling from his losses. He didn’t know where to go, where he would find refuge from the guilt and grief that riddled him. The galaxy, as endless as it seemed was one, he now felt he couldn’t get away from. That is, until another memory drifts to him. He remembers as he limped through the casino on Coruscant, the bloody sack containing his bounties severed head weighing in his hand, as he painfully sidestepped a rowdy group of patrons. One of the men held court over the group, speaking loudly of a blue and green planet; one of seven in another galaxy, with one sun and moon, far, far away, where humans also lived, but had no connections to life outside its atmosphere.

An awed woman that was hanging off his arm had excitedly asked where the planet was, and with a bragging smirk in his voice the man answered. “You just sail straight out through the Unknown from Rakata, Darlin’.” Din’s hands now tighten on the controls of the Crest for only a moment, thinking on the man’s words that cast a momentary reprieve from the Armourers. It would be a risk, and incredibly hare-brained, but maybe if… Din reaches over and sets the Crests course to Tatooine, deciding to pay Peli a much-needed visit.

No more than a week later, and Din is handing a bunch of credits to attendant at the Rakata Prime refuelling station. Having acquired them by taking jobs on Tatooine while Peli worked on the crest, making it more durable for longer space travel as well as bigger fuel tanks “He’s gone to be with his own kind” Din had stated softly, when Peli had asked after Grogu. Peli’s face turned to a look of sympathy, knowing what the kid meant to him. It was the same look his companions had on Gideon’s ship, when he’d turned to them once his mission was complete, and he couldn’t stand the reminder in people’s faces of what he’d lost. Peli wasn’t stupid, she’d known Din was planning on going somewhere that required that kind of work, and she’d given him a hell of a time with her nosing before he left, to little avail.

Now, back behind the controls of the Crest, as Din steers the ship towards the Unknown Regions, and the open space beyond, he reflects on the recklessness he’s about to commit. Not knowing exactly where he was going except flying directly toward and through the Unknown Regions, and then he’d just have to hope that the man in the casino wasn’t talking out his ass. That thread of hope was small, but with the fuel tank upgrades it wasn’t a totally heedless act. He would travel as far as he could with his main tank, and if he couldn’t find this other galaxy then he would turn around, using his reserves to get back with his tail tucked even more between his legs. It wasn’t fool proof, but as he sped through space, The Galaxy being left further and further behind him, he felt a weight life from him for the first time in weeks. Din travelled for days through space, setting short, cautious hyper jumps on the Crests navigation system, only allowing himself short naps, and frequently waking up to check he wasn’t accidentally wandering into an asteroid field and checking his fuel levels. Days pass, but Din had already started to lose count of how many as they ran together in deep space. His fuel tank had just under half left to go before he'd be running on reserves, and although he pushed the Crest to keep going, his hope of finding this galaxy was starting to fray. When suddenly, surrounded by the vastness of space, a swirling mass of light glinted in the dark, straight ahead. Din white knuckled the crests controls as he flew towards the foreign galaxy, praying to whoever would listen for a miracle in finding what he looked for in the gargantuan mass of planets and stars.

Cate

It’s funny how it took a plague, and the world going into lockdown for me to realise just how utterly secluded I’d become over the last 10 years. Not ha-ha funny, but more like, oh shit I really fucked up and didn’t even know, kind of funny. If that’s even a thing. 

 I was 22 when inherited my grandmother’s home, tucked away at the foot of the jagged Rhinog mountain range, on a 100-acre piece of land that was a beautifully mixed landscape of rocky woodland and open grassy views, with a stream (water falls included!) that ran through the centre of it, only accessible by a fifteen-minute drive off the main road up a winding narrow track.   I was fresh out of university, having scraped a pass for a pretentious Fine Arts degree that had had killed my love of creating. And so, with no job prospects I moved into the old cottage and threw myself into the idea of creating a campground in this idyllic location.   The move to the Welsh countryside was worlds away from my upbringing in London, but I loved the freedom and worked multiple jobs in the local villages to afford to create my vision, and in my spare time, I started to bring it to life. This left little time for socialising or even keeping friends for that matter, as I soon drifted apart from my old course mates who either travelling aboard or started building their careers as artists. The local villagers were welcoming, but cautious of a Londoner moving just outside of the village, not helped a lack of integration on my part, finding myself too busy in building my future to attend village events.

  After my grandmother passed, the only family I had were my parents, who were both only children, with now deceased parents, and who chose the corporate path in life, who disapproved firstly of my choice of degree and then my refusing to sell the inherited property and join them at their London law firm.    It was my grandmother and name’s sake, Cate, I had to thank for me being so wildly different to my parents. Having built a strong relationship with her when I would come and stay in my summer holidays, where I explored the woodland around her house while she regaled me with local faerie tails and folk lore- fuelling my love for fantasy. Then later, while she sat in Grandpas armchair, and I lounged on her flowery couch having developed a teenage aversion to the sun, and watched repeats on the sci-fi channel.

It took four long years of determined work on the property, the only outside help I relented to being the construction of the shower and toilet block; DIY YouTube was my best friend through this, but even I had to admit defeat there.  Finally, the cottage now marked as my own home, being filled with my own clutter whilst remaining charmingly cozy. The first few acres out the back had been stripped back and turned into neat pitches for tents and camper vans, with the new showers and toilets to the left. To the right, where the wide stream lazily meandered past the cottage, a few glamping yurts sat, ready for new guests. The vision was finally complete.   I celebrated on my own, toasting the new sign that read ‘Cate’s Camping & Glamping’, with a bottle of my Grandmothers favourite brown ale, content at the time with the solitude. The way I saw it back then was that I had given myself freedom, made my own way in life and relied on no-one. Not realising at the time, I was only solidifying my own solitude.   I’d worked hard advertising the new campground on social media, ready for its first summer open, and it paid off immensely. I was swept up in keeping the place running, eventually employing a couple of teenagers from the nearby village that helped over the summer holidays - the sites busiest period. They were good kids, but the age gap meant we had little in common outside of work, and I knew they only saw me as the boss and a means to fund their days off, which made no odds to me. Business boomed for the first few years, and I smugly showed off my success to my parents, ignoring their tuts and sighs on our by-weekly strained phone calls or on the rare visit, having finally made something of myself without them.  It was a rare thing to feel lonely at the time, entertaining guests year-round; the yurts and their wood stoves still bringing in visitors even in the colder months, and I was content with the companionship my life offered. No matter how fleeting the friendships – and occasional brief romances offered by the odd solo traveller.

It was only after the virus hit, effectively shutting down human life and taking Cates Camping ‘n’ Glamping with it, that I saw a world filled with a stream of new faces turn to just my own, staring back at me in my chipped bathroom mirror, that I felt it creep in - the loneliness. In the early days of the pandemic when the UK went into its first lockdown, if felt strangely like a small holiday, a much-needed respite from a hectic decade of some serious adulting that came with running my own business. In a way I one of the lucky ones, the location of my home and the campsite meant I was safely tucked away in a little cocoon off a long winding dirt track. The villagers at the bottom having no need to pass by, while I only visited them in the form of a monthly food and essentials shop. The fruit and vegetable patches I’d cultivated for meal nights for the guests as well as the chickens and their supply of eggs provided enough fresh food that I was fairly self-sufficient anyway. And although the visiting campers had been halted by the travel ban, only allowing it for essential means, for the first month or so I relished in the free time, catching up on tv shows and podcasts I’d missed, completing video games I thought I never would have had the time to; devouring my stacks of fantasy novels I had collected over the years, and best of all, becoming reacquainted with my love of painting and sculpture for the first time since finishing my degree.  So yeah, despite the dire situation the world as we knew it was in, I was having a pretty sweet time. But then one period of lockdown ran into another, and 6months had passed with no hope of a vaccine as the virus mutated at a rapid rate, my happy little comfort blanket I’d wrapped myself in started to slowly fray at the edges and unravel around me as I realised that I’d fooled myself into believing that my crowed life while running the campground was enough, but when it was suddenly stripped away from me, I found I only really had myself.

Thank you for reading the start of this silly little fic of mine! Likes, reblogs, and comments always welcome ❤️

Chapter 1

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter Fourteen

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

Notes:

In this chapter, we have an extra character called Enzo, whom I'd like you to imagine as the actor Enzo Vogrincic. And for those who enjoy the fanfic, I appreciate if you reblog or like. Thank you to everyone who is following the fic.

chapter thirteen warning

You feel your eyes welling up with tears as you consider how to respond to Pedro Pascal's declaration, but it's what's necessary. You feel your eyes welling up with tears as you consider how to respond to Pedro Pascal's declaration, but it's what's necessary. You take a step forward, bringing your body closer to Pedro. He watches you as if trying to understand what's going on in your mind. You take a long breath and then lean in, kissing him. To anyone watching from afar, it might seem like you're reconciling.

"You know, there's nothing I want more than to have a romance with you. But I don't think I can risk feeling that for you right now. I'm your fan. I like you for your great acting work and for the way I fell for you during this fake relationship. But I don't trust you, Mr. Pascal. I wish I did. But I don't. Now I need you to move on. I know I'm trying to move on." You speak seriously, trying to convince yourself that what you're doing is right. Even though deep down you don't think you're making a mistake. But maybe, just maybe, you two don't belong together.

"If that's what you want. I'll do my best to move on. Have a good day, Miss Y/L/N." Pascal's facial expression looked sad, which almost broke your heart. As he walks away from you and leaves the ice cream shop, you feel like you should go after him and beg him to forget what you said. But you simply call the ice cream shop owner and let him know he can come back. You buy a tub of chocolate ice cream to take home and then head to Enzo's car.

"From your expression and the way Pedro left the ice cream shop, I gather that you two didn't reconcile. There's still time to change your mind, I hope you know that." Enzo speaks, and you look at him disapprovingly at the idea of going after Pascal. Perhaps if you were in a romantic comedy, now would be the time for you to chase after Pedro Pascal.

"Look, it was already difficult enough to turn down one of the most charming men I've ever met. Don't rub it in. Besides, I don't think I'll be good company." You speak as you look at your ice cream, imagining yourself just eating it.

"I'll take you home then. But I still think you should take back whatever you said and give the two of you a chance. You two seem to get along and like each other." Enzo speaks as he fastens his seatbelt and you do the same. In the car, the radio is playing a melodious song. The car moves and you watch the street. And then, your eyes catch Pedro. He's back to filming, even though he seems upset. And you realize you're waving goodbye to any opportunity to be with him. Which seems foolish.

"If I told you that what Pedro and I lived was a lie. That I never dated him, that it was all so the press would think you two are together. What would you say?" You ask Enzo as you continue to look at Pedro from afar. Enzo seems to notice that you're looking at Pedro and parks near where Pedro is.

"I would say that you both act very well, because you definitely seem in love with each other. And I would tell you to stop being stubborn and go after the guy who can make you happy." Enzo's words seem to make sense to you. You look at him and then get out of the car. Without any plan, pondering how you're going to retract what you just said. Your eyes meet Pascal's, and he seems to understand that you want to talk to him. However, perhaps he doesn't want to talk to you because he continues with what he's doing, basically ignoring you. You feel like you deserve this. And you turn around, as if you're going to leave. But then something inside you tells you that it's worth trying to fix this. So, you basically shout from where you are what you want to say.

"I'm a coward, actually; I think we could make it work, but who guarantees anything these days. And I know it's crazy to talk to you in the middle of the street as if we weren't in public and you working, but if you really still want me…" You don't even need to keep speaking or rather shouting towards Pedro's filming crew, because he comes toward you and kisses you. In front of everyone. With people recording.

"I guess that means we're officially dating now." Pedro says between kisses as you both realize you're surrounded by his fans and people in general. How embarrassing.

"I just declared my love for you in front of a bunch of people. You better get ready to marry me. But for now, go back to work. I'll message you later and we can continue this in a more private setting." You say, giving Pascal a quick peck on the lips before heading towards Enzo's car. On the way to your apartment, Enzo teased you about making a cliché romantic movie scene, even though you used to criticize those same scenes when you and he watched romance movies together. Apparently, now you understand what it's like to like someone so much and want everyone to know about it.

tag: @wanniiieeee , @hungrhay and @leilanixx

[abimess]

The Story Of Us - Chapter 2

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Masterlist | Library Blog

Summary: You and Wanda have known each other since you were little. And a love story that could've been as simple as a clichéd romantic comedy suffers the effects of stubbornness and immaturity, ending up becoming something almost like a Greek tragedy.

Chapter warnings: fluff, a little bit of angst I guess [2.621 words]

You do NOT have permission to repost or translate my work on any platforms (even with credit)

Series Masterlist | Previous chapter (Read on: Wattpad || AO3)

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

I’d lie

As Wanda tries to swallow her breakfast as fast as she possibly can, her phone starts ringing on the kitchen counter. Before she can get to it, though, Pietro takes the device into his hands.

“It’s your girlfriend.” He says with a grin, and Wanda rolls her eyes, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Shut up, Pietro.” She grumbles, aggressively taking her cell phone out of his hands, and the boy chuckles. “She’s not my girlfriend.” The brunette says bitterly as she throws her backpack over her shoulder and Pietro smirks. “Yeah but you wish-”

“Pietro, stop bothering your sister.” Iryna scolds her son, who smiles sheepishly as he walks to the front door and opens it. Wanda hears him greeting you and turns to follow her twin, but her mother’s hand taps her shoulder.

“Have a good day at school, moya doch'” The older woman says as she hugs her daughter and Wanda does the same. When they part, Iryna strokes Wanda’s cheeks. “You know, you really could talk to her.” She suggests, and Wanda rolls her eyes, shouting an impatient “goodbye” as she rushes through the door, her cheeks burning red.

“Good morning, slowpoke.” You greet cheerfully as she gets in the passenger seat, Pietro already sitting on the back seat. “It’s not my fault everyone decided to piss me off today.” Wanda grumbles, crossing her arms, and you giggle as you start the car.

“None of your romantic songs today, Y/l/n, I just got dumped.” Pietro requests dramatically when he sees you moving your hand to turn on the radio and you smile amusedly. “That’s why I’m never falling in love.” You playfully swear as you run your fingers through your hair. Wanda laughs nervously, hoping you’re wrong.

“What about you, little sister?” Pietro asks suggestively from the back seat, and Wanda is already planning a murder. “No love interests for you?”

“Not a single one, Pietro.” She answers in a false calm tone, glaring at her brother through the rearview mirror, but all the boy does is smile amusedly. “I don’t think that’s true,” you say with a smirk, eyes never leaving the road ahead, “what about Jean Grey?”

“Urgh, for god's sake, Y/n!” The brunette grumbles impatiently. This has to be the worst day of her life. “Can’t you let this go? Jean is just my friend!” The girl complains, a migraine already starting, but you cast her a smug smile, and Wanda scolds herself for getting lost in it.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” You tease. You’re just messing with her, but when you notice Wanda doesn’t smile, you change your posture. You briefly hold her hand on her lap, and you don’t notice the way the brunette holds her breath. “I’m just messing with you, Maximoff. I’m your best friend, I know you’d tell me if you were into someone.”

Wanda hums half-heartedly. She hates lying to you. But she could never tell you the truth. Because it was clear (painfully clear) that you didn’t feel the same way about her. So she would have to hide her feelings.

So she would admire you in secret, discreetly counting the colors in your eyes as you tell her about your nights. She'd have every detail of you memorized without you even knowing, would never let you see her wishing you were hers. And if you ever asked about her feelings, she'd lie.

-----

It’s lunch break and you, Wanda, Tony, and Nat are sitting on the bleachers as you watch Steve, Pietro, and some other boys from the football team training.

“Where’s Banner?” You ask eventually, and Tony casts you a knowing smile before pointing to one of the tables on the other side of the school ground. You smile when you see Bruce talking to a girl.

“I think her name is Helen Cho,” Nat explains as all of you look at the two of them interacting in the distance, “ever since she was transferred here Bruce has been... keeping her company.” The redhead explains suggestively and the group exchange teasing comments.

Wanda breathes in deeply. So this would be the subject of the day then? Fantastic. Trying to ignore the conversation, the brunette opens the book she’s been reading lately and starts to focus on the words on the pages. It doesn’t last long though.

“I bet they’ll be dating by the end of the semester,” Nat suggests and Tony hums in agreement. “Unlucky him.” You say in a playful tone, but Wanda doesn’t lift her gaze from the book in her lap to look at you.

“Aren’t musicians supposed to be hopeless romantics?” Tony mocks and you chuckle lightly. “I’m just being rational.” You answer simply with a shrug of your shoulders. “They will date for a while and then one will do something to hurt the other and they'll break up. They'll come out of it with lots of traumas and it won't even be worth it. It's always like that.”

“Oh my god, Y/n!” Nat says almost in shock but has an amused smile playing on her lips. Tony, on the other hand, has a disapproving frown on his face. “This is not true.” The Stark boy complains, but you just look at him skeptically. “You’re only saying that because you’re head over heels for Steve.”

“You’re right, I really am. And I’ve never been happier.” Tony retorts firmly, but you look away with an entertained smile on your face. “And you are only saying this because you’ve never been in love.” The boy hits back, and you don’t offer an answer right away.

“That’s not true.” You say eventually, and Tony and Nat look at you with curiosity. Wanda discretely watches you through the corner of her eye. “I have someone.” You tell and the brunette notices you turning to face her, so she looks up at you.

For a brief second, you smile at her and Wanda holds her breath, her heart beating faster and faster in her chest. But then you stretch your arm to the step of the bleachers right behind the brunette, picking up your guitar. “She’s the love of my life.” You say, admiring the instrument in your hands.

The other two chuckle softly, shaking their heads, but all Wanda can do is feel her heart sinking inside of her. “I’ll see you guys in class.” She says when she feels a few tears pooling in the corner of her eyes.

As the group says goodbye the brunette stands up, picking up her stuff at a fast pace. She hears you calling her name, but she has a lump in her throat so she decides to keep walking.

-----

You only meet Wanda again during the last period. The brunette tries to avoid you all the while, but you think that she’s just too focused on what Ms. Harkness has to say about thermodynamics.

And then the bell rings, and before she can run away from you, you approach her desk, waiting to walk her to the book club room as you always do. Wanda offers you a small smile as she stands up, walking side by side with you soon after.

You talk about Tony’s party on the weekend and the brunette shakes her head when you say you’ll give her and Pietro a ride, saying there’s no need. But you insist and so she smiles in appreciation, accepting your offer. She’d never be able to say no to you.

When you get to the book club, you say goodbye to Wanda with a kiss on the cheek, and turn away before you can notice the intense blush on her face.

As she enters the room, Jean Grey notices the flustered mess her friend currently is and approaches her with a teasing smile. “Did you talk to her?” The redhead asks, startling Wanda, who assumes an irritated stance immediately. “Is that all people will talk to me about today?!”

“It’s not our fault she’s all you talk about.” Jean hits back with amusement, ignoring the brunette’s grumpiness. Before Wanda can answer, however, a third voice is heard. “Y/n?”

“See?” The redhead says, pointing at Raven who joins them with an equally amused smile on her lips. Wanda rolls her eyes. “Whatever.” She grumbles, annoyed at the situation and even more annoyed at the intense burning on her cheeks.

“I'm surprised she hasn't noticed yet, actually,” the blonde says as the three of them choose where to sit down, “she seems to be so smart.”

“She is smart,” Wanda says. In fact, it's common sense among your friends that nobody can lie to you. You were the first to know about Steve and Tony before they even thought of telling anyone. Not even Natasha, who has always been great at hiding things from others, can fool you.

“I think she can see through everything but my heart.” Wanda concludes hopelessly, and her friends smile softly, a mixture of amusement and pity.

“Don’t worry about it, love, you’ll work it out,” Jean says, trying to make her friend feel better, and Raven nods in agreement. But Wanda has no answer to give them. Doesn’t even have an answer to give to herself.

To her relief, soon the rest of the students get ready to start the debate, and their conversation ends there. The three then begin to pay attention to the subjects being discussed. But in the back of Wanda's mind, all she can think about is you.

-----

As she gets ready for Tony's party, all Wanda can really do is think about this week. All the things her friends said, all the things you said. She has to do something about it. She has to talk to you, maybe one day she would muster the courage to do so. Or maybe one day you’d realize that you do like her, but never noticed it before.

Wanda sighs. She’d had these thoughts over and over again for who knows how long and nothing happened. Tonight would be no different. But she puts on her make-up and prays for a miracle.

Less than an hour later Wanda hears you honking, and she and Pietro say goodbye to their parents before leaving the house.

“Hey, Wands,” you greet her as she gets in the car, “you look beautiful.” You say lovingly, and the brunette has to try really hard not to let it show how affected she was by your comment. “Thanks, Y/n/n, so do you.”

“Excuse me?” Pietro says from the back seat, looking annoyed. “No one’s gonna tell me I look beautiful too?” He complains, and you and Wanda chuckle. “You look great too, Pietro, the most beautiful boy in the car.”

“I’m the only boy in the car.” He retorts, unamused, and you cast him a teasing smile through the rearview mirror. “Exactly.”

At your answer, Pietro mumbles something, displeased, and you and Wanda exchange amused smiles before changing the subject. And as the three of you talk, the brunette can almost feel something different in the air. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe today would be the day she’d finally tell you about her feelings. Maybe.

-----

The party, as all of Tony’s parties, is massive. Even though the Stark residence is nearly a mansion, Tony has found a way to fill it, the loud music only giving the party a more crowded sensation.

Wanda spends the entire time with her friends, and she would’ve been having a great time if it weren’t for her eyes constantly looking for you and seeing you flirting with random girls she doesn’t even know.

Eventually, everything becomes too overwhelming and the girl decides to look for an emptier place to stay. The search leads her to the living room, where she sits on one of the couches, enjoying the music.

“I noticed you’ve been sitting here alone for a while,” your voice startles Wanda, but she smiles as you sit on the spot next to hers, “and realized I’m being a terrible best friend.” You conclude, making the brunette giggle. “Don’t be silly, you don’t have to-”

“I want to!” You interrupt, sounding genuine. “Being around you will never be a burden, Maximoff, you should know that by now.” You say, a charming smile on your face to which Wanda reciprocates with a shy one.

You then chat for a while, and you giving her all your attention makes the brunette’s heart flutter in a way that she tried for so long to contain. But maybe she doesn’t have to anymore. Maybe this is the perfect opportunity to tell you how she truly feels.

“Hey, Y/l/n.” Tony’s voice sounded right when the brunette had built up the courage to tell you, and she looked at her friend with teeth gritted in annoyance. “Guess who’s looking for you?” The boy says in a suggestive tone, causing a smile to appear on your lips and Wanda's shoulders to slump.

“Who?” You ask curiously and Stark raises his brows before answering. “Peggy Carter.” He says, tilting his head and you and Wanda look in the direction he has indicated. When your eyes meet Carter’s, the girl smiles at you, waving suggestively.

“Really?” You ask, your eyes still locked on hers as a silly smile plays on your lips. But then you blink a few times and look briefly at Wanda before looking at Tony again. “But I can’t right now, Tony, I’m-”

“Don’t be silly.” Wanda interrupts you, smiling as she tries to ignore the way her heart became heavy inside her chest. “You should go.” She says, and you look at her with a doubtful expression. It’s clear that you don’t want to leave her alone, but it’s also clear that you want to go with Carter, and Wanda finds it all painfully endearing. “But you-”

“I’ll be fine!” She says, forcing another smile. “I’m no damsel in distress, you know?” She teases, raising a brow and you chuckle softly. You smile at her and when Wanda notices you’re still hesitating, she chuckles.

“Go.” She encourages once more and this time you nod, smiling as you stand up. “I love you.” You say in appreciation, giving her cheek a long kiss. Wanda has no strength to say anything, too overwhelmed by it all. So she forces another smile and watches with an aching heart as you walk away.

Deciding to distract herself with something else, the brunette stands up and goes get something to drink.

“Hey, Wands.” Nat greets as she approaches the table and Wanda greets her back as she finishes pouring some punch for herself. The two make small talk for a while, but not after long Nat looks at her with a pitying smile. “I just saw Y/n with Carter. Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright!” She says, forcing a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Wanda asks, trying to disguise how much she just wants to go home, and watches the redhead shrugging. “Well, you know, I thought you-”

“Y/n and I are just friends. Nothing more.” Wanda interrupts, the bitterness of her words making her lips turn into a frown. But she forces a smile though, in an attempt to convince her friend of what she had just said.

Natasha just smiles and soon they are talking about other things. All the while Wanda tries to act normal. Like she doesn’t care if you were kissing Peggy Carter in some private place in the Stark house. Like she doesn’t care that you’ll never stop seeing her as your best friend.

She cares, though. But if someone asks, she’d lie.

───── ⋅ ✮ ⋅ ─────

And that's it for today! I hope you enjoyed it, thoughts and comments are always welcome ツ

Part 3

Taglist: @yuhloversxx @madamevirgo @an-evergreen-rose @helloalycia @wandas1mp @cantcontroltheirfear @diaryoflife @ironscarletwidowsoilder @cristin-rjd @ensorcellme @aimezvousbrahms @natasha-danvers @purplemeetsblue @randomshyperson @peggycarter-steverogers @b0mbdotc0m @ethereal-pxradise @stephanieromanoff @tomy5girls @gingerbreadcookieforlife @imapotatao @musicinourlips @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @allfiguredout @olsensnpm @magicallymaximoff @nothing-isimpossible @mionemymind @itsmionet @xastrydx @sxfwap @nicole-rayleigh-hot @wellsayhelloaagin @midnight-lestrange @emptysince18x @1-800-depressedlesbian @theperfectlovestory @b-5by5 @blackwow34 @nervoustrack @somewhatgreatexpectations @yeetus-thyself @chelleztjs18 @franfineashell (let me know if you wanna be tagged)

[roniscloud]

lhs - runnin’

lee heeseung [a. + f. 4700 words] runnin’

to you

you came up on some new

i know i shouldn’t feel blue

‘cause i was runnin’ out of time for you

synopsis: you met heeseung in your freshman year of college and immediately hit it off. you’ve made it to your third year and when everyone including yourselves thought that you were each other’s endgame, the devastation when you two split was immeasurable. you both know there’s still love between you. this break allows you both to realize new things. can you two find your ways back to each other? will this be the final goodbye?

genre + tropes: angst. fluff. comedy. college!au. establishedrelationship!au. exes!au.

warnings: fem reader. swearing. arguing. nosy friends. cold heeseung and cold reader. drifting relationship. interventions. slight suggestive themes but it’s only mentioned like once. they both pine over each other. mentions of alcohol and binge drinking. maybe not a happy ending. if you choose to see it that way. whoops. appearances of the rest of enha plus txt yeonjun and soobin.

i.  the break

“so this is how it’s gonna end? i thought we were doing fine.”

heeseung erupts into an even angrier fit, “are you kidding me? we are not fucking fine. in what world is this fine? tell me!”

you scoff from where you stand cross-armed on the other side of the bedroom. “well, can you really blame me? it’s hard to see if there’s something wrong if we never see each other.”

“exactly my point! we don’t see each other.”

the two of you have been at each other’s throats since heeseung showed up at your apartment. you have no idea how long ago that was or when the argument started. all you remember is coming up to him when he arrived, wanting to actually spend some time with him. instead he shrugged you off and ignored you, blaming the fatigue. the rest has been a blur. one of you made an offhand comment and now here you are: frustrated and in another fight.

a quick recap: you two met at a mutual friend’s party. you thought that each other was attractive and he ended up asking you out. from there you kept going out, fell in love, dated, and everyone thought you were perfect together. three years later and it’s getting tiring. life has been draining trying to balance it all.

“and who’s fault is that?”

annoyed, he snaps back, “oh please, you can not put the blame solely on me.”

“bullshit. i sure can when i’m the only one making an effort here. i’ve actually been trying to save us. you, on the other hand…” you pause again, rolling your eyes, “well, we both know just how much you care.”

his jaw drops, defensively he spits back, “are you genuinely implying that i don’t care about you? about us? that’s rich.”

you move to sit on the edge of the bed, staring at a single spot on the floor. you can see the shadow of heeseing pacing back and forth. you sit there, not looking at each other. the only sounds to be heard are his footsteps and the heavy sighs from you. you think back to the last several weeks. you recall each of the times you have been able to see each other. there’s no substance, nothing memorable. the only thing that comes to mind is that you always end up not talking at all or arguing.

just like right now.

“be real, heesung. when was the last time we went on a date? when was the last time you stayed the night without it ending up with you just knocking out? when was the last time we actually sat down and had a conversation? be honest because i will. i can’t remember.”

“and yet you thought we were fine?”

“well it’s better to believe a good lie than face the hurtful truth. i’m trying to save this relationship. i’m trying all the fucking time and you don’t do shit.”

he spits back frustrated, “well maybe that’s because there’s nothing to be saved.”

“are you kidding me right now? am i supposed to be scared? you tell me that there’s nothing to be saved and expect me to just give up?”

“sorry but i’m not running from this anymore.”

“you’re not sorry and we both know it.” you push yourself back up to stand, resting your hands on your hips, “you can’t say you’re sorry and expect me to forgive you. that’s not how this works.”

“this isn’t what i wanted to happen. this isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“then make it work.”

“i- i can’t,” he holds his hands over his face, running one through his hair, “it’s too much.”

“so what? what do you mean?”

he finally stops. he takes a deep breath and lets it all out, “i just can’t see this working anymore, at least not like this.”

ii. week one

you thought this would be more difficult. that this would be the hardest pill to swallow. the first week apart may actually be the easiest. nothing has really changed. that’s probably because you haven’t told anyone that you two are no longer together. perhaps the time that you didn’t spend with each other before the break up had trained you for this.

life goes on, with or without heeseung. that’s what you keep telling yourself. you choose to get caught up with your life. you have other priorities. it’s not a crime to focus on yourself for the first time in three years.

heeseung feels the same. he doesn’t see any point on dwelling on the breakup. sure, he was the one who made the decision. he’s the one who put it out there. he’s the one who ended it and the one who is taking responsibility.

lucky for both of you, you don’t have any courses together and your schedules don’t really coincide. there’s no chance at any awkward run-ins. there is this weird, tiny feeling though. there’s this small inkling of something missing. you both suppress it. i mean, hell, the breakup just happened.

iii. scheming

meanwhile, your friends have all seemed to notice that the two of you are off. they aren’t sure what it is. they get that you two have had some time apart, but you’re both adults with lives. you have your own classes, jobs, other friends, and such. no one mentions it because they don’t think it’s their business.

but come on… there’s no way they won’t get to the bottom of it. our resident gossips, sunoo and sunghoon, team up and make it their mission to snoop around. of course, they take precautions to not get caught. the scheming duo find out nothing, to no avail.

now the gang of the scheming duo plus jay, jake, and niki have convened in the common room of jungwon’s dorm building. the 02z are all playing billiards in one corner. sunoo battles jungwon in a game of ping pong. the youngest of the group sits by himself on one of the couches, contemplating if he should speak up. they’ve been in a heated discussion as they try to figure out what exactly has been irking them.

riki, against his own conscience, speaks up to the five. he has this gut feeling and innocently wants to voice his opinion. “what if,” the young boy start out while gauging the faces of the others, “now don’t get mad and just hear me out.” he stops again, taking his time to make eye contact with each of the older boys, waiting until they all nod, “what if… they broke up?”

the group of friends all exchange glances with each other before breaking out into laughter. jay composes himself a bit, still chuckling when he says, “seriously? you think they broke up? heeseung and y/n? yeah, no way.”

sunoo leans onto the ping pong table and eggs him on, “they are literally soulmates.”

jungwon sets his racket down and goes to plop himself next to riki on the couch, “there is no way in hell the two of them split.”

iv. breaking news

“yeah, we split.” plain and simple. three words that crushed the poor hearts of jake and jungwon. he broke the news over brunch. he sensed their curiosity when they deliberately never brought you up. 

“good joke there, dude. almost had me for a second.” jake says, awkwardly with a forced laugh.

the youngest of the three chiming in and agreeing, “yeah, that’s really funny.” a silence hits the booth. “you are joking… right?”

the oldest then looks back and forth between the two, tilting his head to one side like a confused pup. he doesn’t see why they think he would joke and simply replies, “nope. you guys haven’t asked so i’m guessing you tried to snoop around and pick up on my cues. i’m also guessing sunoo’s behind this whole operation.”

“ok wait,” jake interjects, “what do you mean you broke up? you can’t just break up.”

jungwon agrees, “he’s right. you two are just playing a prank on us.”

“guys, i’m serious. y/n and i are no longer together.” the two just freeze, jaws dropped, eyes wide. “besides, it’s better this way.”

v. bad timing

meanwhile the remaining four members of their friend group have met up in the campus library in an attempted study session. so far, they’ve just gone back to gossiping and slacking off. the boys all find themselves teetering on the verge of sleep. that is until sunghoon catches you walking in. immediately going to softly pat the others back awake, they all look up confused. trying to stay subtle, hoon jerks his head to the side in your direction.

you make your way to one of the shelves, searching high and low for a book you need for your literature class. sneaking up behind you comes choi yeonjun, the library aid and a friend of yours. 

“need any help?”

“no thanks, i’m good jun.” you give him a polite smile.

unbeknownst to both of you, the failure of a study group has creeped to a closer table. they knew that you two were friends but they still can’t help but eavesdrop. “will you two please shut up so we can hear them?” the annoyed face evident on sunghoon’s face at the bickering of sunoo and niki. he turns to see jay, snacking and not paying attention. he rolls his eyes at the group, his gaze then catching yeonjun leading you out of the shelves. quickly shushing the three and nodding his head in your direction again, they finally get the hint.

yeonjun steps in front of you, “so you know my friend soobin, right?”

“soobin… as in choi soobin?”

yeonjun flashes his bright smile, “that’s the one.”

“yeah i know him. we had a stats class together a while back. he definitely taught me a few tricks around a calculator.” you laugh with him, “he’s super sweet, and needless to say cute too.”

“well, am i glad to hear that! long story short, he’s kinda been crushing on you lately and wants to know if you’re free. he mentioned your shared class before but he said he never got your number.”

“since you have mine already, go ahead and give it to him. tell him i’m free whenever he is.”

yeonjun raises his eyebrows at your boldness, “will do. i just wanted to ask you first before i gave it to him because… y’know…”

“no worries, i completely understand.”

he gives a quick goodbye before going back to his desk. storming quickly, four faces appear in front of you, all a combination of confusion, shock, and anger. 

sunoo starts, “um… y/n. why are you telling yeonjun to give your number to another guy?”

“yeah, are you cheating on heeseung?” his partner in crime, sunghoon, joins in.

you pause and scan their faces. your face dawns an equally as confused expression. “how can i cheat on someone who isn’t my boyfriend?”

four jaws simultaneously drop. riki’s being the first to close and answer a bit hushed, “i knew it.”

jay turns to him in disbelief, “not the time, niki!”

“did heeseung not tell you guys?” you ask them slowly. “i assumed he would be the one to let you all know.”

“that you two broke up?!” sunoo asks angrily, being shushed by yeonjun from the counter. giving an apologetic smile then tuning back into your conversation, “what do you mean you two broke up?”

“we just… broke up. that’s it. end of story. now if you’ll excuse me, i have to actually study.”

they watch you check out the book you came in for originally and walk out the doors, unsure of what to do next.

vi. the intervention

arranging your monthly movie night was not exactly the easiest task given the tensions surrounding two people in your group. so the only logical solution that they all could think of was to simply not to tell one of you that the other was coming over. a fool-proof plan.

in the dorm of the 02z, you did not expect to see heeseung when you walked in.

he gets up from his spot on the couch, “what the hell is going on here?”

“yeah, an explanation would be nice.” you cross your arms as you glare at the younger boys.

niki, trying to act as mediator gestures for both of you two sit on the loveseat—the same loveseat that was always reserved for the two of you before. “this is an intervention.”

after the confession of their intentions, everyone goes quiet. not a single word is spoken for several minutes, no one knowing how to start. after much internal contemplation, jungwon finally attempts to start. “we brought you two here today because- you know what, i can’t do this.” he stops and cuts himself off, burying his face in his hands.

sunoo sits next to him with his arms crossed. “how dare you two? our parents gets divorced and we don’t even get a notice.” it was common for them to refer to you and heeseung as the parents of the group, being the oldest. although something about sunoo still calling you by that nickname stings, him shaking his head to display his disappointment making you feel guilty. 

you see heeseung out of the corner of your eye avoiding looking up to your friends. “look, i don’t see the big deal. we broke up. that happens when relationships don’t work out.”

sunghoon quickly intervenes, “how can you say it isn’t a big deal? you’re letting three years go to waste and that’s all you can say? that’s what happens.” he scoffs at how shameless you come off.

“well, would you rather us stay together even when we were unhappy?” their reactions were a mix of shouts, the words yes, of course not, and duh all blending into each other.

that’s what brought your ex boyfriend out of his daze. “y/n has a point. we broke up and it’s over. we were no longer happy and i don’t see the point in bringing it up again either. it’s in the past. let it go.” he says rather coldly and sternly. him actually saying it and acknowledging it caused that weird feeling to come back. his body language is off, too. your years together has taught you enough about heeseung to know when he’s upset, especially with himself.

jake takes his turn, looking down at his fidgeting hands and muttering sadly, “but you promised each other forever.”

that prompts you and heeseung to glance at each other quickly, making eye contact and it lingering for a couple of seconds. you look away first, not noticing that his stare doesn’t leave you.”some promises just can’t be kept.” your response then making him turn away.

“bullshit.” it’s the first word uttered by jay this entire time. “neither of you are the type to break promises.”

“some things can’t be helped,” heeseung defends.

jay, getting angrier, asks his friend, “did you know that she’s already going on a date? yeah, that guy, soobin. i’m pretty sure you know who he is. your ex,” he makes sure to stress the last word with a certain degree of annoyance, “thinks he’s cute.”

emotionless, heeseung answers back, “good for her, then.”

you were sure that you were over him, that’s why you said yes to the date. but something about him not caring leaves you feeling odd.

jungwon stops your train of thought, “no, you’re supposed to be upset. you’re supposed to get jealous and confess you still want to be with her. you’re supposed to fight for her and be together.”

another quick glance between the two of you, lasting longer than the previous one. no words are said on his end, but you know exactly what he’s trying to say. “he doesn’t have to fight when i’m the one who ended it.” you knew him. you knew he couldn’t admit to the others his decision. after all, he wants to be a good role model even in his darkest times. he couldn’t crush their idea of love and you did what you had to do. you lied for his sake—and maybe even yours.

vii. him

two months have passed since the breakup. there’s tension amongst the friend group, the six not wanting to pick sides between you and heeseung. they’re constantly going back and forth, like they’re walking on eggshells as to not bring up something that only happened with the other.

to get your mind off everything, you’ve found comfort in soobin. well, more accurately you’ve found comfort in between his sheets, or wherever you two decide for it to go down. that’s not to say the dates aren’t great. you’re not official and you both know that. your latest date, however, couldn’t help but feel weird.

the date was going pretty well. don’t get me wrong—soobin is a great guy. he’s sweet, caring, funny, and handsome. you have a lot in common like your taste in drinks and movies. maybe if you had met him first, you would’ve dated him… but you didn’t meet him first. you met heeseung first, and soobin isn’t heeseung.

you found yourself drifting from the conversation now and then, thinking about how heeseung would’ve been at that moment. you think back to his habits, particularly the way he raises his eyebrows whenever he’s excited or talking about something he’s passionate about. you always found it endearing. over the course of dinner, you are able to notice that soobin has some cute habits too, like him covering his face when he gets shy or puffing out his cheeks. but it still isn’t the same.

“you two deserve each other.”

soobin catches your attention again with that comment. “what?”

“you and heeseung. i know that look. don’t try to lie to me.”

“look, heeseung is my past, and i want it to stay that way.”

“do you really want it to stay that way, or are you just afraid of what could happen if you let him back into your present?”

you give him a teasing glare, “don’t get all philosophical with me. i just don’t think he and i can go back to how we were before.”

“what’s so bad about you two changing? obviously if it didn’t work out, you shouldn’t try to be what you were before.”

“can’t i just try with you?”

“as much as i would love for you to give me that chance, i can’t do that to you or to myself. it’s not fair.”

you hesitantly ask him, “but is it worth it?”

“that’s not my decision to make.”

viii. her

now that you’re virtually not in his life, he seems to be looking for you everywhere. actually… rather than going out of his way to look for you, everything just reminds him of you. the jingles of the commercials you always sang along to, your favorite songs on the radio, the reruns of 90’s shows you always binged. hell, even when he was making ramen, he was reminded of how you would make his favorite for him every time he was stressed over an exam. he was sitting in the back of the lecture hall, trying so hard to stay awake for his 3 hour long class with the most boring professor on campus. he fought the urge to text you since it felt like second nature to rely on you to help cheer him up.

there was a particular night when it really hit him. reality smacked him in the face late one evening. heeseung was bored out of his mind, laying alone in bed, aimlessly browsing netflix to find something to watch. he thinks to himself y/n would’ve slammed this laptop closed and talked all night about random and obscure topics. he laughs to himself, reliving the memories. right then, it’s obvious. he misses her.

ix. promises

the rain hitting your bedroom window had no help on your already gloomy mood. what did help was the bottle of soju- well more realistically, four bottles of soju. it was all the liquid courage you needed to call heeseung at three in the morning. 

you sat drowsily on the rug of your living room, your phone on speaker and placed in front of you as you stared out the dewy glass. you heard the phone ring seven times, ready to hang up until you heard his groggy voice come out from the other end. “hello? y/n, why are you up?”

you laugh softly and ask him, sounding loopy, “why are you up?”

“because you’re calling me. would you like to give me a reason why, and are you drunk?”

“maybe. anyways, you know… i was thinking. we broke a lot of promises and it hurts. i have to know that we’re not bad people. i have to keep at least one, right?”

heeseung groans but lets you ramble, knowing that you won’t stop until you’ve said it all, “go on…”

“we made a promise that if something was going on, if we were in a dark place, that we would talk to someone. well, if you couldn’t tell by now, i’m not in the best place. the first person i thought to talk to was you.”

“why me?”

“shhh… don’t ask questions. i know you’re tired so just stay on the phone and let me talk. ok?”

he goes quiet for a bit, sighing, “ok.”

“i miss you. i do. i don’t expect you to miss me but i just want to say it,” pausing to hiccup, “soobin helped me realize some things, saying some crap like we deserve each other.” you chuckle as you recall his words, “maybe he said it because bad people deserve bad people. maybe he said it because in our own fucked up lives, we’re the only ones who can understand each other. i did a lot of thinking and i’ve come to the conclusion that we don’t. because if we stay together, we can’t move on. we can’t grow. we can’t become good people, no matter how much we want it. that’s life. sometimes, no matter how much we want something, no matter how much we wish on stars or pray, some things just aren’t meant to be.”

“y/n, get some rest…”

“wait, i’m not done. you already can tell i’ve been drinking and to be honest i have been, for a while. i do it,” starting to choke up and sniffle, “because it helps me forget. even if it’s just for a minute that i can forget what happened, i’ll drink as much as it takes. i’ll grow out of it, eventually. i know i will, but for now… i have to do what i have to do. i’m sure you can relate.” you laugh again, getting more drowsy. you bring your legs up, hugging your knees. faintly, the sounds of heeseung’s snores play from your phone. you smile to yourself, “i wish you were here, singing me a lullaby. i don’t know when you fell asleep but goodnight. take care of yourself.”

cuddled up in his bed, heeseung hears you hang up. he lets you believe he didn’t hear what you said. he knows the reality of it all and the weight that you both are carrying. knowing that you won’t check your phone for the rest of the night, he sends you a quick text: bookstore, saturday, noon. goodnight.

as he turns off his phone to try to fall back asleep, he sees his reflection in the black screen. he sees his puffy, red eyes and his tear-stained cheeks. the end of it all is coming and finally, you two are ready for it.

x. love song

seeing him in person is a good idea. clearing the air, letting it all out, getting closure. all good ideas, you hope. walking into the bookstore was a weird feeling. when you spot him sitting by the window, you quietly make your way over. he looks up at your new presence, his feet shuffling out of nervousness. you notice the glass of pear juice on the small coffee table in front of him, already half empty.

“hi,” he says like a whisper.

“hi,” you awkwardly respond. it’s unlike the two of you to not know how to start a conversation. you make your way onto the cushioned seat, letting yourself get comfortable to help ease the tension. you each avoid the other’s gaze, not knowing how to begin. you sigh and finally ask, “how have you been?”

“busy,” he says as he nods, “finally took up actual music lessons. thought it would be better to have someone who’s played piano and guitar professionally instead of trying to teach myself.”

you softly giggle, “that’s good. you’ve always loved music.”

“yeah… how about you?”

“same, busy. i got the t.a position i applied for like forever ago.”

“congrats! you still looking to become a teacher?”

“well, generally yeah. i was having my doubts before but i just fell back into it. finally being able to be there, present, and guiding others… that’s what i want.” you sit there across from him, watching him and taking it all in. the man in front of you is heeseung, but not the heeseung you knew. no, this is the better version of him. the version of him where he can focus on himself. the version of heeseung that’s glowing and happy and ready to take on the world. “so, look. there’s no easy or delicate way to put it but i think there are things we both need to get off our chests.”

“agreed. since it all happened—the fights, the breakups, the ambush interventions—we haven’t actually talked.”

“those interventions… they were silly but the guys did help me realize some things. we’re growing up. sure, i thought we had this plan of us graduating, getting married, having a family, settling down, growing old. we both wanted that type of life. sadly, it’s not what happened and we have to live with it.”

he lets out a chuckle, “heeseung and y/n: meant for each other and meant to be.”

“but not meant to last. what a bittersweet and poetic ending."

“it’s like people always say: right person, wrong time.”

“you know… you used to tell me that our love song was the soundtrack to the best life you could live.” you reach out and take his hand in yours, “i just,” pausing to take a deep breath and compose yourself, “i just want you to know… that if anything happens-”

he cuts you off with a quiet gasp, whispering your name with a shaky voice, “don’t.”

you shake your head and gently squeeze his hand, “if anything happens… if in the end, we don’t find our way back and it isn’t us, don’t think we ended on a bad note.” you drop your head as you chuckle lightly before continuing, “cause you were always on key.” you give him a small grin, trying your hardest to not make things worse by crying. “we were just playing different tunes.”

he pulls you in closer to him, placing his hands softly on your cheeks. “i always hated seeing you cry,” he says as he wipes away the tears on your face, not bothering about his own. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close for the last time. 

you stay there in his warmth, hearing him sniffle as he tries to hold back the falling tears. when you pull away, you tell him “i will always love you. maybe not in the way i thought i would but it’s still there.”

“maybe in our next life, it’ll be the right time.” with that, he leaves a kiss on your forehead, leaves the bookstore, and leaves your life. your duet that worked in perfect harmony now playing a beautiful cadence—two wandering artists, free to fill your own wretched worlds with new melodies, the bliss and tranquility of it all. the hope that maybe one day, you’ll be in each other’s lives again is enough.

[persephoneyss]

Bad Movie.

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x f! Reader. Ft. Jungkook.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, angst, gore a little.

Summary: ❝Looking for the person you love, beautiful woman.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, harassment / stalking, humiliation, forced marriage, non-sexual intercourse, abuse of power, implicit murder, drug use naming, minor past master / pet relationships, secondary character abduction, ugly hallucinating hoseok , beatings, blood, photos depicting abuse, mistreatment and death, bribery, sexism and humiliation (directly aimed at female prostitutes), hoseok mistreats and humiliates jk, awkward marriage proposals, use namjoon as a secondary character because it hurts more:(, etc.

Number of words: 6000+

︙Author's Note: This is my longest fic so far, I think. It took a lot for me to do it, especially since I didn't have a clear idea about the whole plot that would take and the role that each character would develop. So if you see Jungkook in a kind of strange character, blame my mind for including him almost last. Also, I hate Hoseok in this fic. Namjoon angel and fallen soldier, by the way let me know if they cried with his death, it hurt me to write it. Thank you very much for the 200 notes in my previous fic, I'm crying.

Read the Warnings well and enjoy!

(Sorry for any mistakes, my first language is not English and I am not fluent either.)

Puedes leer este fic y más aquí en español.

Confidence, a beautiful and treacherous feeling at times.

Feeling superior is a constant whisper of the ego within you, calling to be released and make others feel as what they really are, despicable and useless trash. It was fun laughing at losers when you haven't had that sense of defeat yet.

Hoseok fervently watched his rivals fall at his feet, laughing at his incompetence and stomping even more pathetic defeated form even though they were already dead in tears of pain. He smiled, he always did when he felt invincible and He bit his lip gently to hold back an excited laugh.

No one could be compared to him, and in his high sense of power he could never be alert when he struck him with a blast of vengeance.

It was you.

His eyes stared at you in horror and anger, his ego inside him hated you from the first moment. Because while despicable, he loved you for much more than his pride and winning sense.

He fell at your feet but he never made you notice it, behaving as he normally would around you even though he was always behind you.

Luck was her greatest ally, he always smiled at her and she helped him. It was fun to play with your opponents pretending to be the victim, the cornered mouse and then smash everyone with a snap of your fingers.

His mother looked at him with love and his father with pride, he was the only and favorite son of the Jung family. His success was never derived from love, much less, it was blasphemy in his family to say something so false and impossible.

Hoseok admired his family when they met in the great message of his parents' house, his grandparents smiled and his relatives brought out their most exquisite stories to entertain. They were all crows pretending to show interest in a prestigious place in the will of the family's monarch, his grandfather.

It was at one of those dinners that he got to meet you, he used to get bored of hearing his cousins ​​tell their anecdotes with prostitute women who mostly called, whores of a night. Mocking their shocked faces when they refused to pay them and threw them out of their big luxurious houses.

He rolled his eyes when a family friend, little Jungkook who was known to his father because of his prestige in his last name, chimed in trying to get into the conversation with a shy smile.

Lucky bastard, he thought bitterly. He didn't like the little idiot sticking his hands in boiling water, he wasn't even supposed to be there.

He hummed a goodbye as he walked out the front doors, walking aimlessly to his bored eyes. His feet stopped abruptly with a strangled sigh when he first saw you, you looked tired as you apparently searched for a key inside your bag. Could visualize the logo on your shirt from the grocery store where he assumed you were employed, He stood looking for what seemed like an eternity at you before you find the keys and rush through the back door. He snorted before lazily continuing on his way, however the next day he ended up following in your footsteps again and with even more confidence.

It took a few weeks for him to be able to enter the small commerce store and be able to look you face to face for the first time, it was expected that you would serve him with a smile asking if he was offered something. But he did not see you anywhere, he looked for you before another equally young woman approached him kindly, he sighed making a face of disgust surprising the she worker, his expensive shoes got dirty on the floors of the humble place with shame. His little investigation and search took him through many corridors of the establishment, he observed the shelves and each person who seemed to be wearing the uniform of the store thinking of finding you distracted with your work, maybe he thought of approaching you and asking for directions which he clearly didn't need. Knowing that  she you couldn't refuse because that was your job. In a way, you were there to serve him.

He let out a bored sigh, tired of playing hide and seek, he turned around ready to leave that place that disgusted him so much in a certain way, but once again he stopped in an instant. It was a moan. He clenched his fists, walking hurriedly to the place where the noise came from, he was sure it was your voice and that made him even more angry thinking that he would find you in a compromising position with someone.

He did not think that his lover would be such a stupid and dirty person.

You were crouched on the floor, grimacing with pain and exhaustion. You seemed very annoyed trying to lift a box with your arms, the scene was tender and certainly pathetic, she smiled noticing that you were so distracted that you were never aware of how I was watching you with carnal desire and painfully bad adoration.

"I-can I help you." He was surprised at his little babble, justifying himself later. Nobody ever managed to make him nervous, his father used to despise weak people and certainly he always sought his approval by doing things that were not correct. "They seem heavy."

Your face pale before the scare, turning into a face of shame quickly, you shook your head with a gentle movement, smiling still pained. "I'm fine sir. Can I help you? Maybe he got lost, let me guide-..."

"Actually, I do need help but not with your services." I speak in disagreement, you seemed confused but she nodded at his request. The customer is always right, right? How convenient. "I need you to allow me to help you with that heavy box, not to be rude or calling you weak miss, but you can't seem to handle it."

Lie, under his politically correct excuse was a dialogue about how insufficient you are even with things as easy and common as carrying a box, obviously you needed his help and Hoseok could give you that and more, much more. You just had to say it, it was so simple and fun.

"I -... I can do it, but i will accept your help sir ..." He smiled making an emphasis for he to give him his name, he let out a small laugh finishing his sentence.

“Hoseok, you can call me Hoseok, darling..." He mock imitating his position, your name left your lips like a melody and he immediately felt the sweet taste of it slide down his tongue. Beautifully perfect, indeed. "Now that we can finish the introductions please allow me."

Her expensive outfit crumpled as she bent down to lift the box with ease, you were once again oblivious to her incoherent and certainly crazy fantasies, it was like a romance comedy movie in her eyes. The charming fellow always stays with the girl. And likewise, no one could go against the fictional plot.

He was immersed in the beautiful narrative that you would be hers at the end of the credits.

It was not the last time she saw you, she returned to her same routine of continuing to stalk you with obvious impudence. The only thing that really changed was her new setting and her character, he was hiding between the shelves waiting for the right moment to appear in front of you with a charming smile. Over and over, he was locked in an infinite loop.

He was starting to get tired of just having you in his arms and sheets just in his heavy and lustful dreams.

"A date? How funny Hoseok."

His face twisted in annoyance, but he put on a fake smile again when you looked at him again. "Hobi." He corrected in a high-pitched voice, insisting that you call him that. "And she spoke very seriously my dear, everything is ready."

"Eh ... I -..." A simple wave of her hands was enough to shut you up, you frown in confusion and secretly disgusted.

"On Saturday, I'll send you the address of the restaurant. Goodbye, dear!"

You watch it for a few seconds but he's already gone, you resign yourself to continuing with your work of ordering the products on the shelves. Thinking and trying to remember when you gave him your number. A very characteristic noise distracts you, a call makes you smile with love and adoration.

The plot is taking an interesting turn.

Hoseok was charming by nature, his economic position made him even more desirable to the opposite gender and even his own. It was not strange to see people flirting with him or being suggestive with his proposals, he was on a pedestal and he enjoyed it. His subconscious whispered a little bored. I couldn't deny that he became boring in a way, but you appeared in the story as an extra who soon became a main character. You changed the script of his life already established and narrated.

You were so funny.

He smiled in front of the mirror when he thought of you, since he met you that day he started chatting with you secretly from your supervisor. You had told him several anecdotes to make him laugh, you were also naturally charming pulling out various expressions of adoration that you did not even notice. Oblivious to that, you'd better get ready for the climax of the movie.

The wind was strong in the streets of Seoul, your hair was noticeably messy causing you to let out a tired sigh. You should be planning your wedding banquet right now, but you honestly didn't want to leave Hoseok alone at the dinner he had organized. You put the invitation in your bag, thinking of giving it to her when the time was right with a smile. He seemed like a good person and undoubtedly a good friend in the future.

"You're on time, I was just about to order our food. Honey." The last word slid down his tongue with malice and arrogance, Hoseok inwardly chuckling at your disengaged expression.

"Thanks, but don't stop you can order for both." You say arranging your chair correctly.

The restaurant looked relatively empty, there were only three other people including a couple who ate dinner while chatting enthusiastically.

You smile unconsciously, thinking about what would also make you feel the same way.

"I was looking forward to this dinner, my dear. I also hoped I could tell you how much you have captivated me for a long time, specifically since the first day I saw you." And the others too, he thought shifting your posture.

"Thank you, I'm very flattered to cause that feeling ... in, good in you." You whisper clearly uncomfortable forcing yourself to stay calm. You were sure that you had never given a hint or anything else in Hoseok to establish romantic feelings. "But I-... "

"I know, darling. That is why I have to offer you the opportunity to be my girlfriend and my future wife."

Wife?

For a moment, you feel a rush through your body. You refuse to make a scene in front of all the few people present out of respect, you calm down by counting to ten slowly in your head, but it becomes very difficult for you as you continue to observe his comfortable smile and how he behaves. He seemed very sure of the affirmative respect you would give him, you snort angrily at the thought.

"I am sorry to have been misunderstood Mr. Hoseok, but I am not seeking a relationship with you and very sorry I reject any relationship beyond friendship." Your body lifts up, making Hoseok laugh well in advance of your final sentences. "I am engaged and my future husband is waiting for me, good afternoon."

Trembling, you leave the invitation in silence, leaving the luxurious premises in the same way. The waiters watching you with surprise, being an audience of rejection and humiliation on your part. Hoseok sighs, sipping his wine glass patiently pretending not to hear what the couple behind him are saying.

What a bad luck.

Life wanted to want to return all his damn vanity to him, making fun of him with your almost imminent rejection, obviously he knew that you were engaged and that you loved the poor man who had the bad luck to be his competition, but love is not always the important thing in a relationship or at least not of both parties. The voices of the waiters and the couple distract him from his plans for his next step, he clenches his fists angrily dropping the silverware on the plate calling the attention of everyone in the place.

"Filthy vulgar and talkative people, she will be my wife even if her words have been heard by her prying ears." He raised his voice, causing everyone to shut up. "It's just part of the script."

Maybe if the character who wanted to be the main loses the role of him, he should be the villain. The bad guy in the movie.

He read the invitation with meticulous delicacy, laughing at the little message you put aside. He thought about attending for a second, wondering if it would be nice to walk in to go straight to the altar and shoot your husband willing to take his place by your side. But that would be risky.

"Where are we going, sir?" He asked his driver with a smile.

"Take me to the best brothel in Seoul." He whispered delicately, smiling just as happily as before your rejection. I'd make you pay double the bill for your indulgence.

And likewise, the world is a truly small place. Jungkook nodded clearly uncomfortable obeying someone other than Mr. Jung. Hoseok cornered him like a helpless rabbit in the claws of a cunning fox, flashing his jaw in warning. He felt confused about his little assigned task, watching the direction pointing the right way to his chauffeur who only followed orders.

A small feeling of remorse ran through him, making him want to vomit when he remembered how Hoseok's face was so close to his with arrogance, as his hands roamed his arms gently. He was disgusting how he used his power to such a useless and demanding gain, sometimes without any realism.

"Little Jungkook, you have a very lovely name. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, you were so insignificant that you seemed pathetic to me." He whispered making her wince. "My father told me that you are good at obeying, I would like to test his theory." His cold hands were constantly running down his arms, making a shiver run through his body. "Still remembering well, I already did it before."

Jungkook was weak under his cloak of power, where he could so easily hide it. Lose it. "Yes, h-hyung." An inappropriate moan came from his lips causing him to cover her mouth in shame, a little touch near his crotch was enough to tempt him. Hoseok smirked, narrowing his eyes before walking away slowly wiping his fingers on his expensive clothes in disgust.

"I want you to befriend someone, don't ask, just do it. I'll tell you your next step when you're done." He ordered bored.

"We are here, young Jeon." Notice Jimin with a smile, Jungkook sighed wearily thanking him before getting out of the car ready to fulfill his mission.

I observe him for a few seconds standing in the entrance without doing anything, he was cleaning the windows of the building with force. He seemed like a nice person, certainly a bit humble. He approached making the man bow respectfully, even though he was older. Money can buy everything, they say.

"I am young Jeon, a new investor. May I have a chat with you?"

The man was surprised, no one who was someone by name and a few numbers along with several zeros would be able to notice his presence and at least greet him. A coffee sounded more intimate and undoubtedly inconvenient for him, but again out of respect he accepted the offer with a smile adorning his features.

"My name is Jungkook informally, but I like you and you can call me that." He spoke kindly.

"Namjoon, Mr. Je -... I'm sorry, Jungkook." He corrected sheepishly, making her smile.

He still didn't understand that he planned to do Hoseok with a building cleaner, but he didn't feel in a position worth asking. Furthermore, he would still not receive an honest answer.

He passed by the same place every day, pretending to enter the building only so he could meet Mr. Kim and talk about unimportant subjects. He gained his trust almost immediately, promising that he would give her a better job soon at his own company. He felt like an idiot taking advantage of the man in front of him in such a way for a simple whim from Hoseok.

He was an idiot, but he didn't want to go back to what he was before. A pet.

"I'm very happy, I think she will make a good wife." He responded with encouragement, seeing how Namjoon nodded looking for a picture of his fiancée to show him. He seemed excited, Jungkook understood his happiness after he explained that he saved for a long time to achieve his dream of getting married in a church. They were both in it together, in looking for a future.

He got lost in his thoughts, maybe if he lied to Hoseok about gaining trust from him, saying that Namjoon was a very cold and quiet man, he could make him forget about it. He sighed squeezing the coffee cup in his hands, Namjoon caught his attention by showing a photo of you smiling at the camera with a background of the bridge and the sun behind making a beautiful background.

Jungkook became alert, having seen that face before.

Hoseok had you as the wallpaper on his phone, he knew it was you because of your characteristic features and the scarf you wore in both photos. You were the new fad of a rich fool.

"T-is ... She's so cute, you're very lucky."

Namjoon nodded with a smile, apologizing before returning to his work upon being called by his supervisor. Jungkook put aside his cup feeling the bitter taste of his thoughts, Hoseok was planning something, he knew he was a son of a bitch who liked to keep his plans under lock and key and in a deep grave. He walked away calling for Jimin quickly, before being accosted by Namjoon who came running over, seemingly forgetting something of the utmost importance.

"I apologized Mr. Jeon, but I wanted to give you this personally. It is an invitation, in addition to the proposal to be the best man at our wedding. My fiancee said that it would be appropriate for me to choose someone and I decided that you were perfect, you can decline if you prefer. . " He spoke kindly, as always. Namjoon seemed to have no hatred in his heart, making his own feel heavy on his chest.

Could he bear the blame?

"It's my pleasure to accept her proposal, thank you for considering me. Good afternoon, namjoon-hyung."

He said goodbye by getting into the car as fast as he could, making Jimin look at him with derision. Obviously noticing his nervousness, Jungkook sighed hiding the invitation as much as he could before reading Hoseok's message ordering him to go to his house to sort out his affairs.

It seemed like a joke as he always looked so flawless, ready to humiliate him again.

"Jungkookie, I'm glad to see you again. Now, we'd better come in for our talk." He smiled making anger grow inside him, Hoseok sat on one of his expensive furniture before pouring himself a glass of wine. "Well, I heard from a little bird that you accomplished your task. Good pet."

"Don't call me that, hyung." He grunted in annoyance, making him laugh. "I can't go through with this, I did what you wanted. Leave Namjoon-hyung alone."

"Oh, they're close now really cute. But you forget that I can't fulfill your wish, because "Namjoon-hyung " is an essential piece in my little game." I speak mocking him as always. "Then we will move on to the next step ..." He thinking for a moment, before snapping his fingers. "Invite him to a bachelor party night at the brothel in the center, I already made the reservation. When they are there, leave him alone. A whore will take care of him properly, and maybe you can go make him a oral another yourself." He sneered evilly, reminding her of his past, Jungkook bit his tongue resisting the urge to respond properly. "Since you're clearly good at it, little pet."

"Yes, hyung."

Hoseok nodded saying for him to leave asap, tired of seeing his stupid face. He got up ready to do so, but his arm was taken tightly before bringing his face closer to hers, Hoseok let out a sigh, doing he could smell his breath of mint and wine combined. His hand lowered him into his pockets dangerously close to his crotch, he bit his lower lip to resist a moan escaping him, this had happened before and he begged it to stop forever. From his pocket, she pulled the invitation out, making her gasp in horror.

"Godfather of wedding, new facet of you... kookie." Rolling he eyes pushing him away from him, he fell to the ground before being met by a blow to his cheek. "What a shitty pet, you idiot."

Two days was enough for you to tremble at the thought. Your dress was proud to be seen, it was the most comfortable dress you could find at a fair price. Namjoon tried to enter but he was stopped by your friend who said that he will wait until you keep the dress out of his sight avoiding bad luck. A smile wavered on your face, everything was perfect up to a point.

Namjoon looked at you, a blush covering his cheeks before asking his obvious question. You didn't expect him to want a bachelor party, but you couldn't refuse because you simply trusted him.

Maybe it was your mistake.

You wished him luck, feeling an inexplicable emptiness. Your friends didn't offer to make one for you, they just sat on the couch in their living room talking about movies and arguing about what color the cake would be. It was the calm before the storm.

Jungkook felt a giant headache, the lights of the place were making him dizzy. Jimin had insisted on going with him to such an 'unusual' place to keep him safe. Namjoon had brought a couple of friends who seemed to be always close to him preventing the woman who did the job Hoseok had him do from becoming difficult.

He smiled, thinking that he would have no choice but to let it go. But Hoseok was not a good loser, and neither was he a good winner.

Hoseok:

He distracts his friends, and be careful what you say, kookie.

Received at 11:30 p.m.

He bit his lip, glancing around the bar, thinking he'd find him sitting somewhere spying on everything but nothing looked suspicious. He sighed, sending Jimin out for drinks with one of Namjoon's friends who he gladly accepted. He got up having pushed one away, the other who introduced himself as Jackson seemed more reluctant to leave his friend alone but with a few excuses about feeling bad managed to get him out of sight.

Believed that he would find Namjoon sitting right where he was before but no, he was gone. He felt a burning feeling of guilt, maybe if you didn't find out, nothing would happen.

"You're still the same as before, boss." Jimin sat down next to him, making him uncomfortable.

"Same as before? I am no longer a child."

"But you continue to obey as one. The manipulation they use on you is your greatest weakness, you are afraid, you obey without hesitation thinking about how this will indirectly affect you. But you never do anything to avoid it, you feel bad about this but you still sit here without doing nothing."

"What can I do, Jimin? I don't know if he really left by his will, or if they forced him. I don't want to enter a room in this dirty place and see him sleeping with another woman, because he wanted to and is a fucking infidel . "

Jimin ignored his words, falling silent after several seconds.

Feeling unhappy is a horrible feeling without a doubt. The curious eyes looked at you as if they themselves could judge your story.

Namjoon disappeared as quickly as the wind, many sharp tongues said that he eloped with a lover so as not to marry you. Others believed it was a kidnapping, maybe a robbery gone wrong and he was taken away or he was killed somewhere far away. A sob escaped you just thinking about it, the detective in front of you watched you cautiously.

"We don't know anything about him yet, but we will continue with the investigations."

You nod, without saying a word. Jungkook came in minutes later with a handkerchief in hand, he observed you before gently hugging you. You had the pleasure of meeting him after Namjoon disappeared that night, he introduced himself as a close friend from work and quickly offered to help you with the search.

Maybe he felt guilt.

"Thanks, Jungkook." You smile wiping the tears that escape from your eyes.

"They are looking for the best they can, they even alerted the Japanese embassies in case they might take him there."

"Japan?" Puzzled questions. "Why would someone take him so far? He's just a man with little money, that's ridiculous."

"We don't know, but I promise I won't rest until I find it."

Hoseok sighs bored, witnessing the moment. He had been bribing the bloody police force to hide the information from you about the discovery of your fiancé's corpse floating in the middle of the waters of the river where they used to go together. The only thing that was removed intact from his clothes was a small photo of you smiling, sitting on the banks of the same river.

The police mourned the death, but his faces left grief when they saw the money in his hands. He made fun of Jungkook as usual, who passed by him ignoring him when he went to his house to talk to his father, he knew that the useless little one was very meddlesome in the search for your future husband and ex-fiance. He rolled her eyes remembering how she used to look at him with discontent in meetings, suspicious of him.

He was a good detective, he couldn't deny the obvious.

"You didn't have to do this, a I'm sorry was enough." You say admiring all the bouquets of flowers that came to your house from him. "And I'm sorry for your loss."

He wasn't sorry.

"My dear, losing a loved one is something without a name. I can give you more than this if you promise to smile again, I love your smiles."

Jungkook snorts approaching you from behind, Hoseok to growl at noticing him so close and see how he puts his hand on your shoulder, apparently like support.

"Hyung, he didn't think it's a good time for ... That."

"But little kook, when is not a good time to express how you feel about your loved one?"

"When that person you say you love is crying over the loss of someone special because of evil people who don't know what remorse is. Do you understand that, hyung?"

"No, not really." He laughs cynically making you lose your patience, your little body comes between the two men, with one already furious and the other inadvertently giving up, you make a face of annoyance before speaking.

"Sirs!" You yell at him immediately, Jungkook steps back adjusting his tie. A mania that he had and that you noticed when he presented himself in front of you with regret, he did it when he was uncomfortable or nervous. "This is not the time to argue, I think you'd better leave my house if you're just wasting your time. Thanks for the flowers Hoseok, and Jungkook ... I, I want to continue the investigation on my own."

"That?!"

"What you heard, don't feel responsible for Namj's disappearance -..." You tremble correcting your words, making Hoseok scoff. "My husband, he was just at the wrong time in the wrong place. Thanks for your help, I'll see how to pay you very soon." Jungkook denies trying to insist but fails when you are already closing the door and giving him an apologetic smile.

Your breath feels heavy, you sigh falling to the ground sobbing again. You wanted to find Namjoon, but a large part of you was afraid of how. Dead, with another woman, with serious injuries or simply ... Alive but with trauma for life. You did not want to see him suffer, it was your judgment in life to see the person you love cry in his pain.

You observe yourself, telling yourself that you would be fine when you find it.

Your email seems to explode with thousands of messages received from people claiming to have seen a man like Namjoon near their homes. You ignore them knowing that most of them were false, the first few days you read all of them giving the police false clues that they quickly denied and dismissed.

You dry your tears, closing all the windows and cooking a simple instant soup, eating in absolute silence. It was overwhelming feeling alone at home, where you were supposed to feel safe indoors.

The rain, thunder, and evil outside seemed to be invisible within that place.

A chill runs through you, the control of the television seemed tempting to calm that neat silence and avoid your boredom. You give up turning on the TV, you see the first channel, you keep changing looking for the unknown, you didn't know what you wanted to see. Maybe a newscast saying they found a tall man with dark brown hair and charming eyes unconscious, with a couple of blows to the face and a few scratches but okay, safe, alive and waiting to see your face waiting for him with a warm smile.

Swearing never ever to let go.

A couple of tears slide down your cheek, ruining your fast food. A few knocks on the door manage to scare you, causing you to bite your lip in anger.

"Who is?!" Questions in a shout.

Nothing.

"It better be good ..." You say in muttered, you open the door expecting to see a child running to his house laughing at his childish joke.

But no, there is no one at the door. Just a small envelope that easily slipped underneath, you take it hoping it's a letter from the police announcing good news. Maybe a simple identification of suspicious faces, or footprints at the club.

"I hate being the bad guy, it makes me feel good.

He's dead, I did it for you. For me. For us. I want to make you happy but it's so difficult when I don't know what you want, tell me what you want.

Love you. Love you. Love you.

My heart is so weak in your cold eyes, I feel that you look at me with ignorance of my feelings. Do you want to find it? Do you want to do it?! Okay. Good luck with it. "

It was everything, plus a picture of a golden ring with a large diamond shining brightly. You wrinkle the letter in anger, tossing it into the first bin you found nearby. It seems that in the end, someone did want to joke with you.

Your days remained the same, you went out to work and in the afternoons you called each of the investigators to ask for new news, it was almost always a solid wall, there was nothing really important to report and little by little, they gave up.

Jungkook knocked on the door, he heard some footsteps approaching making him have a little hope. But when the door opened he saw you with a worried face, he felt his heart squeeze in his chest when he tried to get closer but you avoid him by leaving in a hurry. You were dressed in a long black skirt and a white blouse, you were elegantly ready for something.

"Where are you going?" He ask stopping your hurried pace, taking your arm tightly.

"Yo, listen... He... Or her, I don't know who it is but ... You know, he or her know where, he's alive I know. I just don't have time, please."

Your mouth moves wiht fear, you were hiding something but not from him. You were willing to tell him but not now. Not at that time.

"Let me accompany you, I can take you and I will feel better if you are safe."

You nod, letting go of his grip and running down the stairs, outside there is a very elegant car, apparently waiting. The driver smiles at you as if he had known you before, you make an uncomfortable face trying to continue on your way but Jungkook introduces him saying that he works for him.

"Jimin, he's Jimin. He's a good person and a great friend, I've told him about you before."

"I see, sorry." You speak with a bow before climbing to the back, Jimin just smiles kindly, as always.

"Where are we going today?" He asks animatedly, Jungkook takes your hand for support making Jimin remove the smile from him. Your nervous state and your afflicted face are enough for him to understand the situation.

You give him an address, Jimin searches the map being unknown to the place. Your eyes sparkle when the lights of Seoul are reflected in them, Jungkook holds your hand tightly in fear of letting you go again. He felt sick when you stopped calling him, cutting connections with him totally to this day. He spend sleepless nights looking for more clues, the only thing I had until that moment was the identity of the woman, she was a prostitute without anything special, when he spoke with her he seemed indifferent saying that he did not know Namjoon and that the last time he saw him It was when he drugged him and left him in a room as ordered.

The whore made fun of him saying that he would give him this information if he did not tell the police anything, he obviously accepted. Now he repented, the woman disappeared after that and days later she was found in a garbage container. It seemed to be a suicide, the container was from her building, the window of her old apartment faced just where she was supposed to fall if she threw herself without thinking twice.

Right in the garbage.

The wheels of the car made a thud when it stopped, it was a cabin, the only one nearby. You came down quickly thanking Jimin who just made a flirty face. Your hands trembled with the cold, you look at the letter that tells you where and when you should be standing at the door.

"Wait for me here, if we don't go out or you hear noises, you know who to call."

"Yes sir!" Jimin obeys with a laugh at the boss's serious tone of him.

"Y-you should go, I can do this alone." Your voice rises in the echo of the silent place, Jungkook rolls his eyes before offering his arm to you, making his decision clear.

You laugh calming your nerves, the door opens just as you both step close to it. A man stops them, saying that only you can enter the next room. You stop Jungkook who was to protest, you calm him down by leaving your ring in his hands with a smile.

Your body disappears when another man closes the door silently, Jungkook sighs looking annoyed at the guards who ignore him.

A message coming to his phone distracts him for a few seconds.

Jimin:

Should I call the police, Mr. Jung, or the hospital?

Received at 9:35 p.m.

Smile ready to answer before hearing the door open again, he approaching you to ask everything and at the same time nothing. Your pale face is enough to make want to hit the person who was inside with you. Questions remain in the air, your arms surround him while you sob for forgiveness.

From the shadows Hoseok smiles, admiring the document in his hand, your signature shiny as gold is glued to it. He thought it would be more difficult to convince you to accept his marriage proposal, but the precious and expensive ring fit you perfectly. He raised his hand proudly admiring his own, the wedding would be planned as soon as possible making him jump like a happy child.

You had accepted, with the promise that he would bring you back to Namjoon.

But it was never specified in the contract that he would be alive.

The wedding was in a meadow, outdoors with distinguished guests and a few friends and family of yours. Hoseok greeted everyone, by taking your hand tightly introducing you as his wife immediately. It's as if he wants to show everyone that you now belong to him, as if you were a prize.

And maybe if you gave him the key to her success.

"You better smile my dear, nobody wants to know what will happen if you don't." Her lips brushed your hand before placing a chaste kiss on it. "I love you, my beautiful protagonist."

You sob, tears falling from your face as you melt into his disgusting caresses. The man in front of you, your un-predestined husband. The one who stole the position of your true love, he was kissing you delicately.

"Don't cry, decorate the room just the way you wanted. The photos were a special touch ..." His teeth bit into the sensitive skin of your neck, an involuntary groan of pain escaping. "Love you."

Your eyes move desperately to find a photo where the beaten, abused or dead body of Namjoon cannot be seen. You scream when you find one where you see blood everywhere, you are resigned to look down at the ground where Hoseok was crouching kissing the inside of your thighs.

Your mind tried to process the idea that Namjoon had been killed, mutilated and thrown into a river that washed away his body along with happy memories. Farewell to him was prolonged as your body faded in pain.

Hoseok enjoyed the sight of your eyes tightly closed, his cock throbbing inside you as she fucked you like his wife.

The head of the bed moved crashing into the wall, and unconsciously your walls tightened around it causing it to release a curse aloft to the sky.

We got to the end of the movie, smiled as he dazzled the credits by seeing Jungkook's lost name. His little bitch who was his toy for many years, laughed remembering how she did wonders with her mouth.

He pretended not to know him when her father introduced him, taunting her hurt face.

He held you in his arms tightly, you had been struggling to free yourself from his grip as he continued to abuse you over-stimulating your pussy. Your eyes closed falling asleep from crying so much.

He caressed your face, kissing your dry, chapped lips.

The end.

[wy-van-sunshine]

At your wedding - Wesper

“Do you, Mark Fields, take Wylan Hendriks to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do”

“Do you, Wylan Hendriks, take Mark Fields to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I...” 

Wylan hesitated for the tiniest moment: did he? 

He had imagined his wedding day several times in his life, but in his head the man standing before him had always been a tall Zemeni sharpshooter, a grin on his lips, a kindness only he knew in his eyes. 

He’d been happy with Jesper and he’d imagined to spend an entire life with him... but they’d been broken up for five years now, and since then Wylan had never thought about marrying any other man. 

He had met Mark three years before and he felt good around him, he felt loved, but surely he hadn’t planned on marrying him. 

At least not until Mark proposed. 

And how could he say no? After all, why should he wait for someone that would never come? Why should he ruin his life hoping that someday Jesper would rescue him? 

So he chose to stop thiking about his previous life, to move on, and he had said yes.

Wylan was cursing himself now: a man who loved him and was ready to do it all his life was standing before him, smiling and waiting for him to make that same promise, and what the hell was he doing? Thinking about Jesper, again. He wanted to slap himself. 

He cleared his throat and he opened his mouth: move on, Wylan. Move on.

“I d-”

“Of course he doesn’t, I mean, look at him, he’s probably about to faint”

The crowd gasped and turned around, staring at a very tall Zemeni man standing behind all the guests chairs. Wylan froze, terror raising up his spine: Jesper? Could it be?

“I’m sorry, who are you?” asked Mark, confusion in his eyes. He looked at Wylan, hoping for some reaction, but the redhead was still and tense. 

Jesper moved some steps forward, from the bottom of the garden among the guests and in the two grooms’ direction. His usual grin rested on his lips.

“I am the one who should be where you, my friend, are standing right now. I’m the one who should be marrying that beautiful ginger flautist”

Wylan felt his cheeks go red, he felt his own body flushing with embarassment - and something else? He didn’t want to know.

“Jesper, what are you doing?” he asked in a whisper, his voice shaky and afraid. He didn’t know how to react, he didn’t know how he actually wanted to react. He found the strength to raise his eyes and look directly at his ex boyfriend. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, but let me explain better. I’ve been preparing this speech for nights, you know?” answered Jesper with a grin. But then Wylan noticed something change in his eyes, it was as if honesty had suddenly taken the place of his usual sarcasm. Whatever he was going to say, he was going to do it with his heart.

“I think I’ve been an idiot for not fighting to stay with you. I think I should have kissed you more when we were together, because I knew I loved you, but I had no idea how much I’d miss your lips. Or your hugs, or really anything about you, for that matter. I think...” Jesper sighed, then smiled: “I think I might be making a fool of myself right now, because maybe you’re actually happy without me and you want to marry that man. But if there’s even the slightest chance you don’t, if there’s even the slightest chance you want me back, then I have to take it” 

Wylan was left speechless: his face went pale, insanely white, and yes, Jesper had been right before: he felt like fainting. He really did. His body fell backwards and Mark immediately reached for him and held him standing. 

“Look, your speech was touching, really, but you’re ruining our day and honestly I just want to punch you right now” said Mark looking at Jesper. Was he challenging him? Jesper undid his tie and lifted his shirt sleeves - Saints, he was dressed so well, he was really taking it seriously.

“Well then come and do it. I should warn you though, I didn’t come alone, so you probably don’t want to take on a gang from Ketterdam”

“Watch me”

“I’m waiting”

“For Ghezen’s sake, stop it! Fucking stop it!” screamed Wylan, sudden strength in his voice. He looked at his guests, shock in each one of them, then he looked at his mother who was probably feeling so ashamed, he looked at Mark’s parents visibly shaken.

He looked at Mark and then at Jesper: what now? What the hell was he supposed to do and why was he the one who had to do something?

His determination disappeared in a few seconds and he did the stupidest thing: he started crying, careless of all the eyes pointed at him, careless of Mark shaking him in an attempt to help him, careless of Jesper’s voice trying to bring him back to their situation. 

He had dreamed about his wedding day so many times, but in none of them did he end up crying. None of them was such a mess, all because of a jealous ex boyfriend. 

He tried not to think about any of that and he focused on his breath, because he was pretty sure a panic attack was raising in his chest and that was the last thing he needed. He breathed in and out, in and out, in and out. 

He calmed down and he kept his eyes closed for some seconds, his head slowly going back to reality, to Mark and Jesper shaking him and trying to take care of him. 

He breathed in and out one last time, then he stood straighter.

“Why now, Jesper?”

“What? Wylan-”

“Shut up, Mark” Wylan’s voice was ruder than he intended, but he didn’t care: “Jesper?”

“I...” Jesper hesitated: “I don’t know. I’ve thought about coming back to you many times, but I... I didn’t know how”

“So you chose to put on a fucking show at my saintsforsaken wedding?”

The sharpshooter restrained a laugh: angry Wylan was so wild and when he didn’t fear him - because sometimes he did - he actually loved him. 

“I do things with style” he simply replied with a shrug.

It cost him too much to admit he had waited for Wylan to miss him, to run away from his life and go back to him. It cost him too much to say that he thought Wylan wouldn’t actually marry another man because he was still in love with him. It cost him too much to take in that, if it wasn’t for his desperate last move, Wylan would already be married to another man. 

Maybe everything he did was wrong, maybe he was just hopelessly in love with his merchling and he was waiting for the impossible to happen. 

“I need to rest in my bed” said Wylan with a sigh.

“Wait... let’s get married, Wylan. There’s only your will left-”

“Not now, Mark. I love you, but please, just let me take a pause from all of this. I’m begging you, I really can’t right now”

Jesper felt something break in his heart as he heard Wylan telling Mark he loved him. What the hell was he doing there? Was he actually so crazy?

Wylan stepped away from Mark, but as he walked past Jesper he whispered the softest “Come with me” and Jesper could have just exploded right there. 

The redhead disappeared and Jesper turned to the guests, a grin taking place on his lips:“Well, it’s been an honour, y’all. I’m sure this day has become even more memorable than it should have been” then he stared at Mark: “Goodbye Mark, take care and don’t take on other gang members, they’re not all as soft as I am”

To everyone’s surprise (because no one had heard Wylan’s whisper to Jesper) the Zemeni walked away from the wedding with nonchalance, whistling a funny melody. Had that all been pointless comedy?

* * *

Wylan was sitting in a chair in front of the mirror when he heard someone knock at the window glass: he looked at Jesper’s grin reflected in the mirror and he sighed, turning around and walking to the window to open it at let Jesper in.

Evidently he still had some little barrel habits, such as ignoring the existence of doors.

“So...” said the sharpshooter, not sure about how to behave now. He was with the boy he still loved after five years, he had just ruined his wedding: what did one say in such situations?

Wylan sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, touching his temples with his fingers: “What am I supposed to do, Jesper?”

Jesper froze: how could he possibly know? Wylan had to make the choice now, he had already given his speech. What was there left to say? 

“I love Mark, I really do. He made me... think a little less about you”

Jesper’s heart leapt as Wylan didn’t use the word “forget”. So he hadn’t forgotten about their story either. 

“Why should I be with you, mh?” continued the redhead opening his eyes and meeting Jesper’s gaze in the mirror: “Why shouldn’t I be out there marrying a guy who would never embarass me the way you did today?”

Jesper sighed and spoke nothing but what was in his heart: “Because you wouldn’t be here with me if you didn’t still love me, but out there celebrating your marriage. Because Mark would have known who I was if you weren’t too afraid to tell him about me, about us”

Jesper stepped forward and placed a hand on Wylan’s shoulder: “Because I know your eyes so damn well and I know when you’re happy. You weren’t when you were telling your vows. You weren’t when you were going to say I do. But you were when you saw me there, about to screw your wedding up”

Wylan snorted: he wanted to tell Jesper to fuck off, but he couldn’t lie to himself. Jesper was right, he was so right. He had felt something when the sharpshooter has showed up, and that something was relief, happines, maybe love. 

“Let’s run away together, Wy. I have a carriage waiting for me outside. Come with me and I promise I’ll make you happy. Hell, we can get married if that’s what you want. Just...” Jesper leaned forward and rested his lips on Wylan’s neck, leaving a soft kiss there, feeling his skin tremble: “Just come with me”

Wylan closed his eyes again, feeling Jesper’s touch after so much time and immediatly wanting much, much more.

But he couldn’t just leave like that. He owed something to Mark, to his parents, to their guests. He just couldn’t screw everything up because he wanted to run away with Jesper.

“I’ve missed you so much, Jes” he whispered: “But you have to let me think. It’s... it’s so complicated to make a choice right now”

It’s so complicated to focus on anything other than your scent, other than your lips.

“Go in your carriage and... if you don’t see me in an hour, leave. Then you’ll know what my decision is”

Jesper felt - again - something break inside him: had that all been for nothing? Saints, he really hoped not. He opened his mouth to say something more, but the words died on his lips: now there really was nothing left to say. He just had to wait and hope for a miracle.

He smiled at Wylan and he silently left, climbing down the window and reaching for his carriage.

* * *

“Time’s up” said Kaz, checking his clock: “We have to go, Jesper”

“No, we wait”

Kaz lifted an eyebrow and looked at Inej: since when did Jesper discuss his decisions? The Wraith sighed and, despite how much she had hoped in Wylan’s return, she had to speak in Kaz’s favour.

“We waited for an hour and a half, Jes, it’s even more than he gave you. He...” she hesitated: “He has made his choice”

“Well it’s the wrong one!” screamed Jesper, hiding his face in his palms and trying to calm down. That couldn’t be how it ended. It just couldn’t.

He felt Inej’s delicate hand rest on his shoulder: “You don’t have a say in other people’s decisions. I know you put all your heart in trying to get him back, but... maybe he’s happy. Maybe you have to try and move on”

“Or maybe he just has to stop screwing weddings up to get one single person back”

Wylan’s voice reached Jesper’s ears like a sweet melody: he lifted his head and he met his beautiful blue eyes, his sincere smile - was he dreaming or was that actually a grin?

“Wylan... it’s been an hour and a half, we could’ve not been here anymore, you idiot!”

Wylan laughed: “But you are. I hoped you’d wait a little more for me. And even if you were gone, do you really think I wouldn’t have come looking for you?”

Jesper laughed back, releasing all his tension: “You leave me speechless”

“Wow, this turned out to be a unique day, indeed”

Jesper stepped forward and took Wylan’s hand: “What took you so long?”

“As I said, I couldn’t just leave all those people there. I had to explain, especially to Mark. I know you two didn’t exactly hit it off, but he’s a nice guy and he deserved it”

Jesper rolled his eyes, but in the end he didn’t care: Wylan was there, he had chosen him. 

One hand in the other, Jesper stared at Wylan as he dragged him in the carriage, followed by Kaz and Inej: “So... where to, Mister?”

Wylan smiled, looking at him straight in his deep gray eyes: “Anywhere with you”

[helpinghanikan]

Shared experience seen by one

Mathew Murdock x Reader

Sum:  Movies, books, TV and more have brainwashed the world into thinking your soulmate is one romantic comedy away. But life is never that easy, nor is that cheesy.

AN:  I've had this in the back of my mind for awhile. Full disclosure; I'm not good at emotions and I try my best not to make the reader out to be an overly emotional caricature. Spoiler alert, I have failed at both.

“A blowup bed is not that hard to set up, just stay with me instead of waiting for the right place.” Karen had said when you mentioned the impending move to the city. “In fact, you need a job? A very underpaid job?”

The red strand of fate came along during your move. It sometimes tangled while packing, it bended and dipped during the trip, and tightened when reaching Karen’s place. That was how Fate’s strand works; it bounces and moves as you and your soulmate does. It will sway and bounce with your gestures and hand. Although weightless it can be a physical thing to touch and grab, but it takes focus. With enough focus you and Fate can play a game of jump rope; swinging it around with your soulmate on the other side as the anchor. Jumping over the strand like a schoolgirl was Fate themselves. Having a great time watching their chosen couple use the bond to both find eachother and have fun.

Jump rope was played through most of your journey: toying with it on the bus and fiddling while filling out paperwork. It was twirling around your fingers as Karen gave advice for your first day at Nelson and Murdock. “Just bring something food related and they’re gonna love you. Something hearty though, we get enough pastries.” She said then heading out, reminding you to show up around seven.

Just like your nose it’s easy to forget that the strand is there. Just another color that makes up the world all around. It’s only when you reach the building that you notice your strand flat as a table, leading you right into the building.

It’s nothing new for the strand to lead straight ahead. Younger people and children will commonly ignore whatever they were doing before and follow their strand right into the unknown. “Maladaptive following” is the technical for these moments of distraction. Adults will even fall victim to it from time to time: Stopping a business lunch or jog to follow their red strand into the street or some building. Articles and urban legends float about the world stating that many have met their chosen this way. In reality it’s one of the leading causes of death by vehicle for minors.

Now it’s a question whether you were following your strand, or if it just happens to be going in the same direction you were originally headed. Fate was holding your strand so tight it was flat, bouncing as your hands stabilized the box but stayed tight as Fate pulled you forward.

Fate drags your strand into the highest, smallest gap of the elevator’s door. Lifting your head to watch it slide through was giving it too much hope but watching it with eyes was mature enough to acknowledge it without going crazy. Yet as the elevator reached it’s floor, and the strand led straight out, your heart couldn’t help but speed up.

In fiction the sight of your soulmate is portrayed so romantic. There was a few seconds of staring at the shared strand, then at eachother which leads into eye-contact and then a funny/cheesy/romantic line; “I’ve waited so long,” “more beautiful than I could have ever imagined,” or even just “hi,” followed by breathy laughing. They all ended in the two taking a few steps right into each other’s arms.

Your personal situation started off like this. Following the strand across the room and to the man who was your chosen. Following further until the strand was wrapped in a bow on his pinky, on the same hand which held a white cane.

Karen is talking somewhere in the background of your focus. She reaches out towards you in a gesture that is followed by the blonde man stepping up to you with a closed mouth smile. It’s only when he gets to his own name that your ears start to work again.

“-Everyone calls me Foggy, though. It’s good to have join up.”

With the world moving once more the sandwiches almost topple from your hands. Both from trying to get a handout for a proper shake and from realizing no words had come out when you entered.

“Yeah, it’s…hi. I brought lunch, or dinner, or…yeah, they’re just sandwiches.” Were the only comprehensible words that could come out. No matter how hard you tried keep looking at the man in front of you, your eyes kept glancing to the end of your strand.

As the box is taken by Mr. Foggy the second man second, the man at the end of your strand, steps up. Although his face is staring right at you it almost impossible to see his eyes through the glasses. What lines you do see through the glass are likely imaginary; your brain trying to come up with someway that you are special enough to see through his shields.

“Hi, Mathew Murdock,” He says, unfortunately professional.

You shake his hand as well, just as professional but with wondering eyes. Starting at the brown hair with tinges of red in the right light, to the glasses over his eyes which keep you from seeing their color. From his suit without a tie to his hand that held yours in a shake. Where two bows sit side by side, the closest they have ever been.

Fate came along with you at Nelson and Murdock. Instead of being a fellow employee trying their best they just hang around and grinned at you. Sitting on the edge of your desk, playing with the window until Karen had to slam it shut. Blaming it on the faulty building rather than the smirking being that was standing in the middle of the office. Using barely a finger to keep the red strand from touching the floor. Staring you in the eye as they rub your strand between it’s fingers, teasing you with the truth that may not be believed by your chosen.

The entire day is spent as someone else. You were a lightweight as their first party, drinking too much and trying to hide it. Karen was patient as she explained everything but there was still the pressure in the back of your throat. Word vomit threatening to come out at the sight of red, of Mr. Murdock, or of stupid fucking Fate. The latter of which still pulling on the string. Both to keep it from touching the ground and to encourage their chosen couple to do something.

Staring at the abyss between your spot in the corner and Mr. Murdock’s designated office was hypnotizing. Your strand was lightly swinging with Mr. Murdock’s movements. Watching through peripheral vision his fingers drag along paper, reading through touch as he moves the strand without meaning to.

Karen was patient as you struggled to pay attention to the instructions she was giving you. It was too late to say anything about the strand to Mr. Murdock, and this office was way too small for any kind of personal conversation.

“Are you okay?” Karen’s voice is softer than a whisper against your ear. Already leaning over your shoulder, you didn’t flinch at her suddenly speaking. Instead looking over to your new boss and leaning back into Karen. “Sorry. Mr. Murdock and I…And I’ll tell you later.” You whisper, refocusing on the earthly reason you were here.

By the end of your practice there was still no reaction on the side of Mr. Murdock. Although both rude and in bad form a goodbye couldn’t come out while leaving. Instead just a wave towards Mr. Foggy and Mr. Murdock and leaving the door open behind you, Karen following quickly behind. Her heels clip-clapping through the hallway in time with your name called out once, twice…

“Son of a bitch, Karen, I messed up. I don’t know, and now I messed up.” It’s coming out faster than you meant to. With both frustration and almost

Word vomit was finally free to spew. Before the elevator even arrived you were telling Karen everything; about the strand, about the nerves and how you messed up so greatly by not saying anything. When the elevator finally arrived, Karen was guiding you forward. Knowing better than to try and talk anymore while still within Matt’s earshot.

When anyone asks Matt if he eavesdropped, he’d argue; “Of course not, I don’t exactly have a choice with this.” Which was only a half truth, in reality he was a nosy bitch. But it was all for the greater good; clients and their family say the most important things behind closed doors, cops lie and only tell the truth when they think the world isn’t listening, and he just wanted to make sure Karen didn’t get him something he already had.

So, it’s only natural that he listened along as you left.

It took years to try and isolate the noises around him. It was still a struggle to separate them when he first covered his face and climbed to the rooftop. It still hard sometimes, especially when he’s only half focusing, and especially when Karen’s heels can’t be turned off like a radio.

Buried under the heels was your voice. Coming out quickly with a heartbeat to match. “Our strands are connected, and I didn’t say anything and now I don’t know what to do and I can’t say anything now and…” Karen’s soft but sharp voice stops the storm of thoughts coming out. Keeping them at bay until the elevator joins the fray.

It takes longer than it should for Matt to connect the dots. Strands are connected, didn’t say anything…His hands have wondered off of the paperwork in the time it took. Running over the cracks and bits of worn wood from his desk. Dragging up the old crumbs and coffee cup papers that wedged into those gaps. Pulling the smells up and muddying the waters of his sense, hiding the conversation outside until it was impossible to find the women in the hallway.

Matt only had the strand for a short time before the accident. After that it was an overwhelming part of the world. A constant touch on his finger that distracted from something more important. Taking longer than normal people to get used to it, and only a short time after that to completely forget it’s there. It’s been a while since he’s even thought about it: only during selfish moments with a girlfriend. Trying to seek out the vibrations and slightest effect it would have on his chosen. After finding none he’d forget about the strand and move on.

Turning his wrist, he finds the strand once more. Closest he could compare the material to was silk, but it was too soft and slick for it to be that. Tugging on it brought tighter resistance than normal; his chosen’s weight keeping Matt from dragging you right back to him. The resistance getting weaker the more he toyed and the farther you got from him.

There was this urge that goes through everyone when they finally find their chosen. The urge to talk or know them. To hold them tight and find every and any reason that fate had chosen them for eachother. But this was another urge that Matt had to keep down, at least for now.

Yes, that’s what he’s best at, keeping things down. This would have to be different than his old relationships. No trauma bonding over kidnappings as the Devil or making the first move like the suave lawyer man he knew he was. This would be…natural, an organic relationship made by lying to eachother until one finally caves and tells all Just like a suave lawyer.

[marshmallow-phd]

Nine Little Letters

Genre: College AU, Fake Dating AU, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before AU

Inspired By: This graphic made by @rcse-tvler​

Pairing: EXO x Reader

Summary: Just when you thought life was done shoving you down, it got much, much worse. After finding out that your latest crush was already in a relationship, you did what you always did when emotions ran high: you wrote a letter. Signed and sealed, you put it away with the eight other letters you’d written to past one-sided loves, never to be seen again. That is, until a mix up accidentally sends those letters out to their respective recipients and you find yourself in the middle of one confusing web of love. With fake relationships, insecurities, and revelations swirling around, things are bound to get a little messy.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11

The second letter you ever wrote was perhaps the most embarrassing of them all.

During the summer of your thirteenth year, Baekhyun had gone away to a summer camp that had lasted for over a month. Bored to tears due to the missing antics, you spent more time with your other friend, Yeonhee, though - as much as you loved her - her presence didn’t have the same level of comfort as Baekhyun’s did. You weren’t sure what the reason was, but there always seemed to be this invisible barrier between you and Yeonhee. You couldn’t get quite as close to her. There was so much relief the day that Baekhyun came back. But something else was there, too. Something that had been growing throughout the absence.

At first, you thought your heart was beating fast because you ran to the park where Baekhyun told you to meet him. You were excited - elated - to have your best friend back. When you saw him lying on the teeter-totter, you stopped. His skin was sun-kissed, hair a bit longer and tousled. You’d never realized how… handsome he was before. Your face was smiling before you knew it.

You liked him. That had to explain why you missed him so much, right? As soon as Baekhyun saw that you’d arrived, he lit up, jumping off the playground equipment and running towards you. He pulled you into a quick hug then stepped back, ruffling your hair.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Come on.” He grabbed your hand and started pulling you away from the teeter-tatter. “Let’s go down to the creek!”

You followed him without hesitation, loving the feeling of his hand in yours. Later that night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep because of this new information. At thirteen, you were a bit smarter than you were at ten, so you decided to put some feelers out. You would see if there was any chance that he felt the same way. The two of you were close, after all. The chance had to be there, didn’t it?

The answer was no. And you received that answer almost immediately. The next day Baekhyun went on and on about this girl he had met at camp. He talked about how funny she was and cute and playful. And beautiful. He wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty he found her. She was at a summer camp, for Pete’s sake, but somehow still managed to be soft and delicate and everything Baekhyun liked in girls. It felt like an uppercut punch to the jaw. You could be soft and delicate. You wore skirts and boots and cardigans. Your room was pastel colors! What was the difference between you and this girl he rambled on about?

Flashing back to Jongin and how much better you felt after writing him the letter, you sat down at the table while your parents were away at work and tried to see if it had the same effect.

 Dear Baekhyun,

How are you? I guess that’s an awkward thing to ask given how I always know how you are. You always tell me, whether you’re happy or sad or simply indifferent. You tell me everything. And I’ve always loved that, the fact that we could tell each other whatever we’re thinking. But lately, you’ve been telling me too much and I’ve been keeping quiet. You tell me so much about this girl you met at camp and how much you like her and what the two of you talked about on the phone last night and how you’ve made plans to meet up next week. You go on and on about her without seeing the hurt in my eyes. I stay silent because of that hurt. Because while you were away, I realized something. I realized that I like you. As more than just my best friend. I find myself wishing that you were talking about me that way. What does this girl have that I don’t, anyway? She sounds a lot like me. I even wondered at one point if you were secretly talking about me until you mentioned meeting up with her. You seem so happy, though. So, I wonder, should I say anything or should I just go on being just your friend? I guess I'll make the decision at the end of this letter. If I send it out or if I keep it hidden in my drawer. Do I come out and say it or do I risk forever thinking “What if?” Only time will really tell. Either way, I hope you’re happy. That’s most important.

Love,

(y/n)

 In the end, you decided not to mail it. Though you never met the girl from summer camp, Baekhyun ended up “dating” her for the fall semester of school - if it could be counted since they lived in different cities. He always went to see her, but she never made the same effort. That was why they broke up, according to Baekhyun. Though he never came to see you in the same light as far as you were aware, you found that you were able to move on, to see him once again simply as your friend. Perhaps the two of you were soulmates in the platonic way. You were thankful to your past self for not mailing out that letter. Where would your friendship be if you had sent it? Would there even still be a friendship?

“Okay, I know you’re not a professional or anything, but you’re even worse today. What’s going on?”

You blinked, coming out of your head just in time to watch your character crumple to the ground, dead. Great.

You weren’t the best at video games, but you found them fun and Sehun didn’t mind if you weren’t as good as him. He definitely carried the two of you in the team rounds.

“Nothing, I just have a lot on my mind.” Both the truth and a lie. You were mildly distracted at the moment. It was a small amount of connected things. Seeing Junmyeon with a girlfriend had conjured up some old insecurities. While you were fairly sure that you were over him, you were circling around your lack of love life - and lack of dating history. As in zero. Zip. A big old goose egg. Of course, when that happened, you tended to retreat into your books and movies. Which rom-coms you were going to binge tonight was currently at the forefront of your mind, held up by everything else.

“So, obviously, it’s not nothing,” Sehun pointed out over the headset. Touché.

“Okay, it’s not nothing, but it's not something you’d be interested in anyway.”

“Try me.”

You paused. “I was thinking about how I’ve never had a boyfriend, so I was going to watch romantic comedies tonight.”

Silence.

Well, not total silence since the video game was still on in the background, but there was no response from your partner. “Sehun?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m not that interested. But I also don’t see how watching movies about romance is a direct response to not having a boyfriend.”

You sighed as your character re-spawned and you continued with the game, covering Sehun from any surprise attacks as you inched closer to enemy territory. “They make me feel better.”

He took a pause to kill an enemy soldier before replying, “I still don’t get it. How can watching fake couples get together make you feel better? If you want a boyfriend, why don’t you go out and get one? It’s not like there isn’t a whole campus full of single guys.”

You scoffed. Yeah, right. Like it was that simple. There wasn’t a store or a catalogue that you could flip through and go “Oh, I’d like that one!” and have a boyfriend ready and raring to go. Although… someone should get on that revolutionary idea. It could be worth millions.

Part of you wanted to respond with “Fine, do you want to date me?” but you bit your tongue, knowing that you didn’t mean it. There had once been a time that you had thought about Sehun in that way. The two of you rarely saw each other in person. For a good year and a half, the two of you had been simple online buddies until you realized you lived in the same city. You’d invited Sehun along to outings with Baekhyun and Yeonhee, but they didn’t click very well, so it didn’t happen too often. After the first time you met Sehun, you thought he was cute. Que the letter.

 Dear Sehun.

I know you try to hide it, but you’re actually very sweet. And I know that you let me win sometimes. And you help me every chance you get. I like you because of that. Also, I never thought you would be cute. Is that bad? Do you think you could like me back? We could be that gamer couple. Those who play together, stay together, right?

Love,

(y/n).

 It was the cringiest of all your letters. Short, uninteresting, bland. After you wrote it, you realized quickly that those were the only reasons you liked him: his face and he was nice to you. Were your standards really that low? His letter always stayed at the bottom of the pile, hardly ever revisited. That was when you realized it was hard to truly like someone you didn’t know all that well. You still considered him a friend and could confide in him, but he didn’t make your comfortable triangle a square.

“Hey, (y/n)!” Baekhyun burst into your room with no warning. You jumped, letting out a rare curse into the headset.

“Baekhyun, what are you doing here?” On Saturdays he was usually busy giving piano lessons.

“And on that note, I’m out.” Sehun clicked off without a real goodbye. You shook your head. Boys.

You turned off your console and swiveled around in your chair. Baekhyun was seated at your vanity which made you nervous. He knew better than to go peeking into your things, but that hardly stopped him. And while he was aware of the letters’ existence, he was neither aware of his own nor where they were located.

“My pupil for the day canceled on me. They’re sick. I was bored so I came over. As per usual.” Looking over his shoulder at your mirror, he plucked off one of the pictures you had wedged into the frame. “Heard from your long-distance boyfriend lately?”

“Hardy, har-har.” You snatched the picture from him and replaced it. “He’s not my boyfriend and you know it.”

Zhang Yixing was your pen pal from high school. After seeing a flyer on one of the bulletin boards in the hallway, you jumped at the chance to communicate with someone from another country without really thinking about it. The partners were all chosen at random and you considered yourself quite lucky. The person you exchanged letters with was sweet and funny and really read what you wrote to him, always replying to your words before going into his own story. While life got in the way and the two of you weren’t able to exchange letters at the frequency you once had, you still received a surprise every so often.

And yes, before anyone asks, he was one of the nine. One look at his dimpled smile and charming eyes and anyone would be hooked. You’d giggled like crazy when you opened the letter junior year and his photo fell out. He’d wanted to show you the countryside school he’d volunteered at and the kids he’d helped. As cute as those children were, he was all you could look at. So, naturally, there was one letter you never sent. It didn’t make sense to send it. He was in an entirely different country. So, you used his letter as camouflage, keeping it on top at all times to hide the others underneath.

“And no, by the way. I haven’t gotten a letter for a little bit.”

“Too busy volunteering?” Baekhyun quipped.

“You could take a page out of his book, you know.”

“I do give back! I give free lessons all the time!”

Okay… that was true. Baekhyun did have a soft heart for kids that wanted to learn to play the piano but whose parents couldn't afford to pay for lessons. About twice a month on Sundays, he went to a local church and taught a class for anyone who wanted to join. It was actually kind of sweet. You’d gone a few times and he could be pretty adorable with the kids.

“Alright,” you said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” Baekhyun pursed his lips and tapped a finger against his chin. His eyes slowly made their way around your room. He would smile when his eyes landed on pictures of the two of you or little souvenirs from your various adventures. Your room was like a scrapbook for the world to view. You enjoyed being surrounded by memories, like reading a book based on your life. “I’m kind of hungry.”

“Okay,” you laughed. “For what?”

He turned away from you, mostly still listening, but obviously distracted by something. “Let’s go to a grill.”

That suggestion sent sparks off in your brain. Your stomach, which had been neutral up until now, was roaring for the sizzling meat and spicy side dishes. In fact, you’d been distracted at the thought of a Korean grill that you didn’t notice Baekhyun’s hand twitching on the forbidden drawer. Before your brain could process what he was doing, the drawer was open. Baekhyun pulled the entire stack of letters out.

“Wow, you actually do keep all of these!”

“What the hell are you doing!” You bounced on him, tackling him down to the floor as you wrestled the envelopes from him. Once you finally pulled them free, you smacked his arm with the stack. “You jerk! You know those are private!”

He actually had the audacity to pout. “I just wanted to see!”

“They’re not for you to see!”

“Come on, (y/n),” Baekhyun sat up when you moved off him. You kept the envelopes close to your chest in case he tried for them again. “I thought I was your best friend.”

“Don’t you dare try to guilt trip me,” you snapped. “I have a right to my privacy. These aren’t meant for anyone else but me.”

“Fine.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “But you might want to find a better hiding spot. Let’s go eat.” He left your room, smiling to himself.

Grumbling to yourself, you placed the envelopes on your vanity. Later, you would find a better place to put them. For now, though, you draped a shirt over the stack so they were mostly covered.

You forgot about the letters for the most part by the time the two of you made it to the restaurant. Baekhyun had his moments where he didn’t think things through or he acted purely on impulse, but you could forgive those happenings. At least, when he was paying for dinner. On the way to the grill, you called Yeonhee to join.

“So, there’s this girl in my World Music three-oh-four class,” Baekhyun said right after shoving a stuffed sesame leaf into his mouth. “She’s really cute. And plays the cello. Her fingers are so nimble and small.”

“So, you going to ask her out?” you teased.

Baekhyun took some time to chew his food before answering. “Yeah. Actually, I think I might.”

“Does she seem interested in you?” Yeonhee asked. She was always the more practical one out of the three of you. She saw things in black and white. She either chose door number one or door number two. It was a philosophy she used in every aspect of her life. That realism rounded your little triangle out. Baekhyun was the carefree, never-knew-what-he-was-going-to-do-next type, you were the slightly anxiety-ridden, romantic daydreamer, and Yeonhee was the down-to-earth, rational one.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay. Then do it.” Yeonhee pulled her long, dark brown hair back into a scrunchy to keep it out of her face. To her, that was the end of it.

Baekhyun sent you a look, but he shrugged. “Alright. I’ll see her on Monday, so I’ll ask her to coffee then.”

Your phone vibrated against the table. Normally you would have ignored it, but given the lull in conversation, you checked to see the notification. It was a text from your mom.

I’m doing laundry. It looks like you have a full hamper. Do you want me to take some?

You smiled. You loved getting out of laundry. Yeah! Thank you!

Okay! A second text came through. Do you want me to take this shirt on the vanity, too?

Shirt? What- Panic swept through you. No! That’s okay! It’s clean.

Okay! Love you!

Love you, too!

Phew. That was close.

The rest of dinner was spent talking about classes and professors and new movies coming out. The three of you bounced from subject to subject, spending a good hour and half at the table slowly devouring the different meat courses. Multiple groups came and went while you sat there and enjoyed this time with your two best friends. When it was time to go home, Yeonhee volunteered to take you home since it was more on her way than Baekhyun’s. Once there, she parked in your driveway. Rounding the car, you bent down to tell her goodnight. A second or two later, Kyungsoo pulled into his parents’ driveway. He got out of his own car, eyes down on his phone. Noticing the two of you next door, he froze. There was an awkward tension as the exes made eye contact while you stood there like an unneeded third wheel on a bike. Finally, Kyungsoo broke the contact and went inside.

“Have you talked to him lately?” you asked.

Yeonhee shook her head. “Not at all. What’s the point? I ended it. Going back and opening the wound makes no sense.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable. I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

You straightened up and headed inside.

Yeonhee and Kyungsoo were a tragic story, at least in your eyes.

Kyungsoo was your next-door neighbor for your entire life though the two of you didn’t interact very often. He ran in different circles and seemed annoyed by Baekhyun most of the time - a pattern you were not blind to. But Yeonhee always took the time to talk to him if you happened to be in the front yard and crossed paths. Oblivious to what was going on while they conversed, you stood by, studying your neighbor.

He was handsome and sweet when he wasn’t frowning. In fact, his smile was quite stunning. And he was smart and, though rare, cracked jokes that had you in stitches. You found yourself admiring him. Imagine your shock when you discovered that he was dating one of your best friends. You were devastated. The strength of the feeling took you by surprise. But you’d managed to keep it together in front of both of them. Only when you were alone were you finally able to let it out. That night you’d locked yourself in your room, tears flowing in an unending stream. At some point, you were sitting down at your vanity, pencil flying across the page without you having to think it through.

 Dear Kyungsoo,

What am I even feeling right now? How am I feeling like this? You were always just my neighbor, the boy next door. Occasionally kind, helpful. I never even suspected that you liked Yeonhee or that she liked you back. I was completely left out, blind to what was happening in front of me. Mostly because I couldn’t see past myself. You were nothing like how I’d thought in our younger years. You are so much more. Amazing feels like too simple a word but that’s all I can conjure up. I’ve been so in awe that I couldn't completely understand what it was that I was feeling inside. But now… I feel like my heart has shattered. I had come to look forward to talking to you in between our yards. I never suspected you were coming out for Yeonhee. You chose her over me. I’m sure in your eyes, I was never even one of the selections. But why? Am I really that invisible?

You are a wonderful person. I’m not sure if there are enough adjectives in the world to describe how I see you. You’re like a portrait in the Louvre, unable for me to touch. You’re out of reach. And now that you’re with Yeonhee, you always will be. I know that you’ll treat her well. You’ll keep her hand warm with your own like I wish you could with mine. When she’s tired, she’ll rest her head on your shoulder. I hope you’re a comforting pillow. You seem like that kind of person. A comfort, a stronghold. I wish you could have been mine.

Love,

(y/n).

 They dated for two years before Yeonhee inexplicably ended the relationship. You knew she would have a very logical, analyzed reasoning for why she abruptly broke it off, though she never told you or anyone. However, you were surprised with how angry you were at her. How could she do that to someone like Kyungsoo, who had never treated her badly even for a moment? Your sympathy lied with him, but you had to show support for your friend. She wanted to move on, so you pretended to understand. She didn’t come around very often anymore in case of situations like tonight where she might accidentally run into or see him.

Up in your bedroom, you took a deep breath. Because it still hurt after all this time. You still longed to be the one he looked at, the one he wanted to see. Out of all your letters, his was the one that never worked. His was sealed up tight, but the feelings didn’t go away. They held on tight like a rock climber without a rope. You could distract yourself with other crushes, give in to fleeting feelings for others. And it would work for a little while. But in your weak moments, those feelings never failed to come back. Tonight was a reminder of that.

[pinkykitten]

truth or dare

- @someoneovertherainboww​ heey i dont know if u tak requests but i loved ur writing and i was wondering if u could make prompts 20 and/or 25 for zuko pls prompt(s):  “i’m not playing truth or dare.” “why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer.”

pairing: zuko x female! reader words: 2,210 genre: modern au, high school au, cafe au, fluff, comedy, requested

a/n: tysm!!! yes requests are opened atm! omg while writing this i thought of that thing that dante said at like a con or something where he was ordering at starbucks and the lady was like omg ur zuko!!!😂 art in title isnt mine! hope yall enjoy this ball of cheesiness that cures my acne and enjoy the love that i have for zuko to make me become a disaster for him （＾コ＾）V

Your back ached from the way you hovered over your laptop and sat at your desk. Your mind was focused on learning and getting good grades it didn’t mind the pain. Your eyes burned from the strenuous gaze at your blue screen. Your hands felt as if you churned butter and not to mention the mean girls were extra rude today at school. High school was tough and you needed the rest of the day to be filled with relaxation and peace before you hit the books tomorrow. 

“Where are you going?” Your best friend Sokka asked through the phone.

You hopped off the bus with all your items almost spilling out of your bag. “I’m going to Fire Tea Shop. I read the reviews online and people say its pretty good.”

“No, c’mon Y/N you had your chance. You mean its pretty lit!!!!” Sokka sounded too much like a kid that had eaten edibles. 

“I’m hanging up,” you said deadpanned. “I don’t even know how I’ve kept up this friendship this long. I’m so proud of myself.”

“Its because you love me.” Sokka sang. 

“It might be because I think you need my help. If I wasn’t with you and had your back like where do you think you would be? Probably eating crap off a cave right now and starving.” You walked up and inside the cafe was so cozy. It had an earthy yet red contrast feel to the place. It sure matched with the name Fire. It had some vintage Chinese architect to it. It was stunning and really caught your eye. And it was peaceful. “Do you want anything babes?” You asked as you looked at the menu. “They have cactus juice.” 

“No!” Sokka shouted on the phone. “I tried that, I couldn’t get out of the bathroom the whole day! Plus I thought I saw like mushrooms of some sort.” 

You snickered, “baby, I think you’ve been eating too many mushrooms!”

“I’m good. You enjoy it there.”

You said your goodbyes and hanged up the phone. As you did an old man came up with a long beard to say his welcoming. 

“Hello there, young lady. Might I interest you in trying our newest tea? White Jade tea. It’s very delicious.” He smiled wide. 

You read his name tag. He was such an adorable old man. “Hmmm, Iroh? Actually since this is my first time I want to try your most popular tea. How about-”

“So White Jade?” Iroh was about to punch in your order when you heard a shriek and what seemed to be a pot dropping on the floor. “One moment please. That is probably my angsty, incapable nephew that made a mess. Please look to see what you would like.” Iroh made a hasty get away. 

Out came a teen your age as he rubbed the back of his head. He was so handsome looking. His hair was disheveled and he wore a red apron. His attitude really attracted you. “Good thing I made a distraction, that White Jade tea is not a hit. I’m not that good at making tea also. That’s more my uncle’s job.” His voice was low and had an edge to it. It was so handsome. 

“Oh he’s your uncle. That’s sweet!” You grabbed your wallet out. “I would like a Jasmine tea please.” 

“Good choice. My uncle loves that tea. That will be $4.25.”

You grabbed your money and went to give it to him when you saw the huge scar. It was red and didn’t scare you but you couldn’t look away. The thoughts that went through your mind was how in deep pain this person must of been in to endure and cope through that painful wound. 

“Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

You wanted to hit yourself. You were taught to have manners and here you were staring at this young man. He probably felt self conscious and insecure and you made him feel worse. “Oh my God I am so sorry. I wasn’t meaning it like that. I’m just sorry that you had to go through that.” You read his name tag. “Zuko. Its a beautiful name.”

Zuko’s nose flared up, “yeah, thanks.” He grabbed forcefully at the money and you sat and awaited your order. 

You dug your head in your arms. ‘Why are you like this Y/N? Why did you stare?’

“Here is your tea miss,” Iroh instead brought the tea out. “My nephew felt he didn’t want to scare you away.”

You bit your lip, “I am so sorry. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make him feel uncomfortable. It was so insensitive for me to do that. Please can we start over.” You felt so bad and guilty. 

Iroh thought about it then pointed to the tea. “I make the tea myself. Taste it and I’ll think about your offer.”

You sipped the warm tea and no lie it was amazing. He definitely knew what he was doing. You weren’t thinking it was fantastic because you wanted to make amends with these folks but it was actually the truth. 

“Honestly?”

Iroh nodded. 

“This is really good and totally what I needed today. Thank you for this and please take this tip.” You gave Iroh the money. “Its a way to say I’m sorry.”

Iroh saw the money and smiled wide, “I can think we can find it in our hearts to forgive you.”

You finished your tea and went to the order counter and rang the bell. Zuko came out thinking you left. 

“Yes?”

“I was thinking. Do you maybe want to go to the park tomorrow and catch some lunch? Its A way for me to apologize for my behavior today.”

Zuko looked around sheepishly, “I don’t know.”

“Please,” you pouted your lips. 

Zuko agreed and the date was set. 

After school the next day you went straight to the cafe. 

You were going to be honest in saying Zuko was really cute. You were nervous and thinking about him the whole day non stop. You even dressed up for the occasion which rarely happens! Even Sokka knew and wouldn’t stop teasing you the whole day. He should of been your hype man but he made you feel like a little girl with a crush!

“You ready Zuko?” 

“Yeah just give me a sec.” Zuko went in the back and came back with a changed look. He wore instead a red bomber jacket. Could he be anymore boyfriend material?

“Love the jacket.” You poked him on his side and he blushed awkwardly. 

The way to the park was more silent and you were considering if this was a bad idea. 

“So do you go to school or are you home schooled?’ You tried to break the ice. 

“Actually, I go to the school not to far from here.” Zuko pointed in the direction your school was at. 

“Wait! I think we go to the same school! Yeah, I’ve seen you before!”

“I’m not that hard to miss.” Zuko, in a way, brought up his scar. 

“No I would remember you from being so handsome.” You smirked. Zuko almost choked. “That school sucks though. Its the same everyday. Work my butt off and then get kicked around like dirt by the schools mean girls. I feel like my life is a movie sometimes.”

“Yeah I get made fun of too.”

“I’m sorry.” You touched his arm. 

“My dad did this to me,” he pointed to his scar. “Didn’t like me as a son and loved my sister more, I guess.”

“It’s a touchy subject. I didn’t realize it, I’m sorry.”

Zuko chuckled which was something new to you and almost shocking, “you can stop saying sorry. I already forgive you. Its not a big deal. I like you though, I think you’re cool.”

“Thanks.”

“And those people that make fun of you, they're crazy. They're probably jealous of you because you're so beautiful.”

You almost died right there! You were like already ready to get married to this man it felt like. Would it be wrong to ask if he was single? You prayed and hoped he was. 

You two sat at the bench. It was such a peaceful, sunny day. You crossed your legs and faced him. “So Zuko, lets play truth or dare!”

“I’m not playing truth or dare.”

“Alright I choose dare to get it started.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. He knew you weren’t going to do this. “I dare you to ask that old lady over there if she knows any place that sells laxatives.” You shot up and Zuko immediately regretted it. “Y/N I was just kidding. Let me do another one.”

“A dares a dare my man.” You fist bumped your chest like the warrior you were. You went up to the old lady like a lost kid. 

Zuko couldn’t help but laugh hard and try to shy away from the world. 

You ran back and fist bumped the air with a skip. “In your face fire prince!” You nicknamed him. “She said around the block they got a drug store. Boom! Now your turn.”

“Okay, truth.”

“Boriiiiiiiing! Oh my God! Fine! What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”

He groaned, “really? We’re going there? I said a joke, okay, that my uncle said and it came out terrible the punchline left the building and nobody laughed. It was [pretty brutal.”

“I would of loved to see that,” you said in awe. “That’s full on cringe right there sweetie.”

“Okay, you now.”

“Truth.”

“Sissy much?” Zuko raised his brow. 

“Hypocrite! I’m just following your footsteps.”

“Okay, feisty. Have you ever kissed anybody?”

“Totally!” You struggled on that one. It was such LIES!

“You stumbled on that one. I can tell you’re lying.”

“Yes, fine I am. I’ve never kissed anybody in my life okay. Only my pillow. I’ve practiced on that and lets just say its been through a lot.”

“Wow,” Zuko tried to stifle his chuckles, “you’re unbelievable.”

“And what about you? Have you ever kissed anybody?”

“It’s not my turn.”

“Truth or dare?” You were starting to see a different side of Zuko that you really liked. He was fun and made you smile. 

“Truth.”

“Have you ever kissed your girlfriend?” You wanted to see if he was single. 

“I’ve kissed before but I don’t have a girlfriend.”

You legit wanted to party and cry because this could actually happen. “Who’d you kiss?”

“A customer.”

“Oooh, you have to spill the tea on that later. I choose dare!”

“I dare you to try your first kiss with me.” Zuko raised his brow. 

Oh my Lord was he serious? You were sweating profusely and at an alarming rate. “Are you for real?”

Zuko nodded his head, “it is a dare. And you wanted to start this. I told you not to.”

“I’ve never kissed anyone! How do I do it?”

“Just look at me and try it out and I’ll critique it.”

“I’m kinda hating you right now.” You glared at Zuko. “Only 3 seconds okay.”

Zuko surrendered to that and you closened up on him. He smelled of tea leaves that were light and airy and a burning flame of musk. He was really growing on you. You came closer and closer until your lips met. You wanted to keep still but Zuko moved his lips so you followed. You felt the whole shebang. Fireworks, butterflies, everything. You clutched onto his bomber jacket. They seemed so strong and vigorous the kisses but they were tiny pecks to start you off. Your lips moved in sync with his because you got the memo and started getting used to it. You looked down at your watch as saw that it passed the three seconds. Separating from him you wiped your lips, breathless for a puny kiss. It seemed like such a milestone for you and something so big but in reality some kids kiss their posters longer than what you did. 

“How was that?” Zuko looked away blushing. 

“Very invigorating and exciting.” You were speechless. You were such a daredevil is what you thought to kiss this complete handsome stranger. It was like a dream though. You stood on the bench and screamed out the park, “I just had my first kiss everyone!!!”

Zuko pulled you down, “oh my God it wasn’t that amazing. Chill out. I choose truth.”

You evilly smiled, “do you think I’m attractive?”

Zuko’s blush was even redder this time. “Yeah, you’re cute. My type.”

You wiggled your brows, “you’re type? You think I’m cute? He’s think I’m cute! I have finally a guy! Who thinks I’m cute! I have a chance! At not being alone! And being a crazy cat lady!” You sang as you shook your body. “Okay last one, I choose dare again. Yolo. Living on the edge.”

“I dare you to go on another date with me,” Zuko asked as he played with his fingers. 

It was silent and you were surprised on one factor. ‘This was a date?’ You grabbed his hands and smiled at him, “I’d love to go on another date with you! And you said you didn’t want to play truth or dare.”

a/n: IROH IS SUCH A MOOD OMG 😂 and zuko is so sly and cheesy sdkgjfdskgfkgjfdgk omg. i loved this wayyyyy to much as u can tell and like made this like a chapter book bc im extra like that! would u kiss a stranger if he was zuko? i prob would bc im a thirsty nerd fam 🥵

Tag list: @carat-bebe, @angelgl16, @perfectlybeautifulsuit, @hyehoney, @haven-prelude (wont let me tag), @leasly, @totally-alexa21, @creamy-pasta-boi, @multireese, @fanfictionrecommendations-com, @prentisskelley, @malereaderforkpop (wont let me tag), @guardian-of-cookies, @justafangirl-97, @teenageshitposts (wont let me tag), @dippergravity (wont let me tag), @some-booty, @fromfoolishpeopletodeadpeople, @collectiveyou, @wtfisalltherandoms, @dirbel, @eastcoasthaven, @fangirl-4-life415 (wont let me tag), @melonreblogsstories, @fandomchick80,

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Please Reblog, like or comment! It means a lot to me and I truly appreciate it:)

[troubatrain]

sober - m.barzal (pt. three)

a/n: onto the next one for reposts :)

Two - Four

Game Days were busy.

There were a few things about a Rangers game day that were always consistent. Someone always kicked a soccer ball into one of the rafters, usually Mika who thought his girlfriend’s soccer skills were rubbing off on him. You couldn’t speak to Hank but you knew where he was because he did the same thing every game day even if he wasn’t playing. Trouba would ask you some sort of dumb question when you tried to get footage of him walking into MSG so you couldn’t post it online. Finally, Chris would follow you around and then claim it was part of his own superstitions.

“So you just left him?” Chris clarifies, somehow always sticking his nose in your personal life.

“Yeah I went home,” You shrug, sipping your coffee to hide the fact that you were flat out lying to someone you really did trust. 

“You just went home?” Chirs quips a smirk on his own face, “Because you’re in an awfully good mood today Y/N.”

“If you really must know Chris, I am capable of getting myself off,” You remind him, sarcasm dripping from your voice while Chris chuckled behind you.

“Alright Ice Queen,” Chris rolls his eyes, “We get it, you don’t need a man.”

Nobody does. You thought to yourself while you pushed Chris into the Rangers locker room to get him out of your hair for the rest of the night. It was something you reminded yourself constantly, your happiness didn’t need to depend on someone else. If you could just remember that, then there was no way anyone could ever hurt you. It drove your own mother crazy, and the romantics in your life always seemed to be annoyed by your lack of commitment, but you didn’t care. You were never going to be the girl who cried on the way home in the back of some taxi because a man broke your heart. Your life wasn’t going to be the sad part of a romantic comedy that was set in New York, because you wouldn’t let it.

**

The Rangers lost, one of the grueling overtime losses that you hated to even walk past the locker room after. You stood by the exit, watching the sad faces of the team leave to greet their significant others and see their kids. It made you soft for just a moment, your thoughts broken by a text to your phone from a number you should have deleted. It was from Mat, the location of a bar downtown attached.

Tough loss… come for a drink?

Does that drink come with strings attached?

If you’re asking me to tie you up, I’m in.

I cannot stand you.

You won’t be able to stand, just come and see me.

You bite your tongue, holding in the thought of asking Mat how many other girls didn’t answer him before he finally landed on you. Maybe he had a list, or maybe he just scrolled through Instagram until someone’s thirst trap caught his eye. Those seemed too logical for Mat, so you settle on the idea that he probably plays contact roulette until he finds a way to get his dick wet. A part of you screamed not to go, just to get on the subway back to your apartment and pack it in for the night. But you ignored your logical side for just a minute, grabbing a cab and giving the driver the address Mat sent you.

Mat, in a weird sense, was like a safe bet. Sure, you could have gone out and taken someone else home, it was easy in a city as big as New York. But, Mat was good in bed, and you’d be damned if you let him know that. You were letting your pussy take over for you, screaming that at least you were going to get off a few times.

“You’re here!” Mat cheers, scoping you out from the moment you stepped into the bar. He reeked of booze and bad decisions, his arm wrapping around you.

That was when the group he was with caught your attention. Standing on the other side of the bar were a few of Mat’s teammate’s who you knew of.

“Are those your fucking teammates?” You grit out, your lips as close to Mat’s ear as they could get.

“Would you relax? I didn’t mention what you did for a living, as far as they're concerned you’re just another girl,” Mat scoffs, his large hand landing on your lower back.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’m never speaking to you again,” You scold, wagging your finger at him while you walk over to the bar.

Mat’s teammates were interesting. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, or that they were anything less than kind to you. It was that it felt so wrong. Just a week before that, you were sitting between the benches during warm ups listening to Matt Martin roast Trouba from the blue line and now you were listening to him gush about his pregnant wife. It was like you’d entered some alternate universe and you found yourself having a better time than you even anticipated.

“You’re too cool to be here with Barz,” Tito chirps, cheering you on while you took your third shot of the night.

Mat’s smile was dopier than normal when he threw his arm around you and pulled you into his chest, “It’s because I’m her conquest not the other way around.”

You roll your eyes, tucking your head into Mat’s arm and nibbling at it lightly to get him to shut up for just once. Mat smirks, leaning to whisper in your ear, “That’s a turn on princess, wrong move.”

“How about I just kick you in the balls?” You grit back, Mat’s eyes widening at the threat. 

“If you come home with me, you’re free to do whatever you’d like,” Mat chuckles, turning you around and pouting, his hand resting on your hip.

You bite your lip, if you went home with him you knew what that meant for you. It meant Mat was getting what he wanted - a spot on the roster. The problem was that Mat was probably better in bed than anyone else you were currently seeing, and admitting that was the equivalent of defeat. Another part of you screamed, that maybe he was just perfect for casual.

Mat Barzal was dumb, smug, and hot. Three characteristics that you thought made someone a good fuck-buddy. Mat wasn’t boyfriend material, and he was never going to get to meet your friends because no one could know this was happening. Mat was smug in the way that he constantly wanted to win, and while it meant his personality could be unbearable sometimes, it also meant he was excellent in bed. Finally, Mat was hot in the way that it reminded you that god really does have favorites. But, Mat was like sleeping with the enemy. He was going to make you lie to people who you trusted for the first time, and was that fair to do yourself just so you could get laid? 

“We’re setting some ground rules here Barz,” You finally land on, Mat’s eyebrows raising in surprise with your lack of protest, “Starting with if you ever force me to hang out with your teammates again, I’ll cut your dick off.”

“Noted,” Mat nods, “Anything else princess?”

“Yeah, that nickname has got to go,” You say, because princess irritated you more than any pet name, “And no sleepovers-”

“But we live in two completely different boroughs,” Mat protests, “And what if it’s late?”

“I’m a grown woman,” You remind him, “I can get home safe on my own.”

Mat rolls his eyes, “You’re a real pain you know that? Anything else?”

“Yeah, this stays between us, I’m not some pawn you can use to talk shit next time someone from my team hurts your feelings,” You say, poking him in the chest to make your point, “I’m serious.”

“You got it captain,” Mat nods, saluting you while he chuckles, “Now can we go? I’ve got plans for you.”

Mat’s use of the word plans made your pussy drip in excitement while you bid your goodbyes to his teammates. His teammates who had no idea that just a week before that you were sitting on the bench during warm ups with a blind hatred for each of them in your heart. His teammates who’d also fallen under your spell that maybe you weren’t a cold hearted bitch all the time.

“My place or yours?” Mat hums, pulling you closer while you waited for a cab.

“Yours, I don’t want you within thirty feet of my apartment,” You smirk, even though you hated Mat’s apartment because no one deserved those floor to ceiling windows if they had decor as terrible as his.

“You talk a big game for someone who left some nasty scratches on my back the last time I saw you,” Mat reminds you, nudging his nose with yours, “But, I can remind you why.”

Mat’s words lit a fire in you, if he thought he was so good, you were going to remind him that you were better. Two can play at that game. You grab Mat’s hand, pulling him into a cab while you waited for him to give the driver his address. Once the car started to move, the streets of New York lighting up on either side of you, you lean over and let your hand creep up Mat’s thigh.

“No,” Mat mouths, shaking his head while the cab driver makes small talk with him. You smirk, lightly using your fingers to land right over the bulge that was threatening to peek out in Mat’s too tight jeans.

“No what?” You whisper in his ear, a blush creeping up his neck. You had him so hot and bothered that everything before that seemed to make sense. It had clicked why Mat put up all the shit you gave him, he could have anyone he wanted with a smirk and a wink, but he wanted you - at least for the moment.

The rest of the cab ride was agony, after hitting about every red light from the bar to Mat’s building, he had you pinned against his door the second you got inside, “That was a dick move.”

“It just seemed like you needed a reminder of who was in charge here,” You whisper, your mouth close to his neck, “And who’s going to be screaming who’s name.”

“Yeah okay,” Mat scoffs, “There isn’t one thing you could do that would get that to happen.”

“Wanna bet?” You counter, sliding down the wall and stopping to unbutton Mat’s jeans. You pull them down, leaving kisses right above his boxers before they slid off too.

All it took was one lick on the underside of his cock for Mat to let out a moan that was so loud it echoed in the obnoxiously large bachelor pad he lived in. Mat’s hands ran through your hair, pulling it up so he could guide your head. You bobbed your head in a perfect rhythm, your hands digging into Mat’s thighs while you tried to get grip. Your head game was nothing short of spectacular, and you’d be damned if you were going to let Mat Barzal think anything less.

“Fuck Y/N,” Mat groans, trying to push your head back to give himself a break before he came way too early. This only egged you on, taking his whole length into your mouth, “Babe, I’ll cum right here if you don’t stop.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” You look up at him, tears brimming your eyes from his dick in your mouth.

“You’re going to kill me aren’t you?” Mat asks, pulling you up to place a kiss on your lips.

“And no one will even know it was me,” You smirk, slipping out of his arms and making your way down a hallway that was becoming way too familiar, “Now c’mon Barz, I thought you had plans for us.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Eat me out.”

“Actually you can tell me what to do.”

[joe-mazzello-archive]

Party For One

A Joe Mazzello x Fem!Reader fic

Word Count: 4k whoopsssss

Rating: PG

Warnings: language, drinking, angst for most of it, a teeny bit of fluff, joe is a bit of a shithead in this one, sorry gang

A/N: hey remember how i was supposed to be finishing doj part two and instead i word-vomited this out in five hours at work yesterday? anyway, enjoy.

He hasn’t changed a bit, you thought to yourself as you watched him, always the life of the party. He’d been that way all through high school, the summers you saw him between college semesters, and the few gatherings he made appearances at when he was home.

You’d always been right beside him, too. Pre-gaming at a friend’s house, sharing the mic during karaoke, rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet, crashing on the couch or the floor or wherever you could find a spot.

But now you were out of your element. You were in his other world. You were surrounded by vaguely familiar faces, people you knew you had probably seen in a movie or a tv show but you couldn’t place them exactly. And there he was, across the room, animatedly entertaining a small group with some anecdote you’d probably heard before.

He was obviously the reason you were here. He had been begging you to come out to Los Angeles for years now. Years of you’d love it out here and you and I both know you’d take the industry by storm and I miss my best friend. Eventually, you relented. Mostly because your career in real estate was exhaustingly boring and you needed a change. Acting had always been something you enjoyed but never looked at as a career opportunity until now. But you had to admit, you missed your best friend too.

So you packed up everything, drove across the country, and settled into Joe’s guest room. You had a meeting with his agency on Monday, but of course Joe, always the party host, insisted that you needed a welcoming get-together upon arrival. Which soon turned into a complete blow-out. In fact, you were pretty sure most of the guests in attendance had no idea what the party’s true origin was, let alone who you were.

So there you were, only hours since you had arrived, left to nurse your beer off in the corner. Part of you wished you and Joe could have had a quiet night in, catching up over pizza and a comedy special. But you knew deep down that would have just exacerbated the situation you found yourself in. Seeing Joe in the flesh once again had caused some...feelings to resurface. Feelings that you had worked for years to suppress, and had been hoping were completely gone by now.

All it took was him opening his front door and pulling you into a tight hug for all of those feelings to come rushing right back.

Sometimes he did things that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, he felt the same. Like the way he used to wrap a protective arm around you when the two of you walked around Brooklyn at night. The way he could sense when you were having a rough day just through your texts, and suddenly a delivery of Insomnia Cookies would arrive at your apartment door. The way every hello and goodbye hug lasted just a moment longer than was probably appropriate for two friends. But surely you were reading into it.

You knew he wasn’t avoiding you. No, he couldn’t be. Sure, the second other guests had started to arrive, his focus turned from you to them. And sure, he hadn’t given you the time of day since. But he wasn’t avoiding you, no. He was just a popular guy, he always had been.

You pushed those negative thoughts away, not willing to accept them.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” sounded a familiar voice with a British lilt from behind you. You turned and were met with ocean blue eyes and chiseled cheekbones.

“Gwil,” you breathed out, almost in relief. Someone you knew. The tall man pulled you in for a bear hug, immediately putting you at ease. You appreciated the gesture considering you and Gwil weren’t even that close, only meeting each other a few times back when the Borhap cast was briefly in New York.

“Did that asshole leave you here alone at a party full of people you don’t know?” Gwil asked as he pulled away. You chuckled at his frankness.

“You know how he is,” you mused, offering a smile and a shrug. “He’s gotta entertain everybody.”

“Now did I hear correctly that you’re moving out here?” Gwil questioned, casually leaning a shoulder against the wall next to you.

“Got here a few hours ago, in fact,” you explained. “I’ll be occupying the guest room until I find my own place.” Gwil chuckled at that.

“You quite literally just got here and he’s off chatting with people he sees all the time?” Gwil clarified, earning an exasperated nod from you. “I’m going to go ahead and apologize on behalf of that bastard.” You let out a genuine laugh at that, clearly pleasing Gwil if his smile was any indication. “So how was the trip out here?”

And that’s how you found yourself tucked into the hallway of Joe’s apartment, just exchanging stories with Gwil. You welcomed the change in subject, not wanting to harp on the whole Joe situation. You told him about the weird truck stop in Ohio, the delicious pizza you devoured in Chicago, the loud hotel neighbors you encountered in Colorado, and your brief stint in Las Vegas. Gwil offered his own road trip tales before the conversation shifted, and eventually he was regaling stories about various sets he’d worked on, actors he’d worked with, and general knowledge of the business. He even offered some much needed advice, melting away some of your initial anxieties about your career change. All feelings of loneliness and inklings of frustration at Joe were long gone, and you mentally thanked Joe for inviting at least one person you knew.

“Can I ask you something?” Gwil inquired after a little while, the two of you finding yourselves settled out in chairs on Joe’s balcony, enjoying the night air of LA.

“Fire away.”

“Did you and Joe ever date or anything?”

You burst out laughing at the question, shaking your head.

“No, no, definitely not,” you replied before taking a sip of your beer. You chanced a look at Gwil, finding him eyeing you warily.

“That’s surprising,” he admitted before pursing his lips and gently caressing his own beard, a gesture you noticed he did often.

“Why is that surprising?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Just the way he talks about you…” Gwil trailed off, his gaze focusing on the city lights before him. Your heart slammed against your chest at his words. You tried to keep your face neutral, not wanting to let Gwil know just how important what he was saying was to you.

“How...how does he talk about me?” you followed up, attempting to hide the quiver in your voice. Gwil immediately turned back to face you, his eyes glinting mischievously. His lips curved into a soft smile before he said your name gently.

“He...he’s in awe of you,” Gwil confessed. “I swear he talked about you constantly while we were shooting the film. ‘She’d be a great actress if she wanted to be. She’s funny, she’s charming, and she’s got the looks and talent.’ Everything reminded him of a funny story involving you. We practically knew you before we even met you.” Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as Gwil spoke. Sure, Joe had complimented you before. But something about the fact that he had practically bragged about you to people who didn’t even know you made your stomach flutter.

You realized Gwil had stopped talking and you met his gaze, finding his eyes narrowed at you.

“You should tell him,” he finally said after a few moments.

“Tell him what?” you asked, playing dumb. You knew exactly what he was referring to. The man had seen right through you. He smiled, this time seeing right through your act of denial.

“How you feel.”

You ran your hands over your face and let out a groan.

“I literally just moved in, Gwil,” you reasoned. “I don’t want to make him feel awkward about me staying here by telling him about the feelings he very clearly doesn’t reciprocate.” You gestured inside the apartment, where Joe was still talking it up with a few guys you recognized from Undrafted.

Gwil leaned forward, shuffling closer to you and placing a gentle hand on your knee.

“I know his actions tonight make it seem like he couldn’t care less. But I promise you, he’s so happy to have you here. He adores you. More than you even realize.”

You chewed on Gwil’s words, your mind swimming. You believed him; he had no reason to lie to you. But you just wished what Gwil told you lined up with how Joe had been behaving all night.

Eventually the two of you made your way back inside, to find the party had somewhat died down. Joe had shifted into clean up mode while the last small group was starting to make their exit. You instinctively began to straighten up, grabbing beer bottles and paper plates and disposing of them while Joe worked on packing up the leftover food.

You were tying up a full trash bag when Joe brushed past you, not even acknowledging your presence. Your heart sunk, knowing full well you couldn’t use the excuse that Joe was just distracted by others this time.

He was actually ignoring you.

As you opened a new trash bag, you began to wrack your brain for what you could have done already to piss him off. Gwil pulled you from your thoughts, pulling you in for a goodbye hug and a peck on the cheek. When he pulled away, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” It was amazing how quickly Gwil learned how to read you. Or maybe you were just that bad at masking your emotions.

Your lip trembled as you tried to prevent the tears from falling.

“He’s ignoring me now,” you revealed, earning a sympathetic look from Gwil.

“I’m sorry, love,” he offered quietly. “He’ll figure his shit out eventually.” Another hug, this one a bit longer as he held you against his chest. “I’ll text you next time I’m in town, we’ll all grab lunch.” You nodded with a soft smile before pulling away, turning your attention back to your cleaning.

Another minute passed, the last of the voices faded away, and the door clicked closed, leaving a silent apartment. You let out a sigh as you tossed the last of the plates you had found in the new trash bag. Pulling another beer out of the fridge, you ventured into the living room where you found Joe pushing the coffee table back to its original position. You awkwardly leaned against the arm of the loveseat as you waited for him to say something.

But he didn’t. After finishing rearranging, he passed by you once again, not even sparing you a glance, before heading back into the kitchen. You let out another sigh, following after him.

“Okay, can you please tell me what I did so I can fix it?” you pleaded, completely at a loss. Joe silently pulled a bottle of disinfectant and a rag out from under the sink and breezed past you another time, heading back into the living room. You scoffed at his actions, your sadness being replaced with anger at his immature way of handling himself.

You placed your beer down on the counter and trudged back into the living room, stopping in front of where Joe was wiping down the coffee table and crossing your arms.

“Joe? Are you going to talk to me or continue to ignore me like a fucking child?”

He froze, dropping the bottle and the rag on the table before finally, finally looking at you for the first time in hours.

“You’ve been here for what, five minutes? And you’re already trying to fuck my friends?”

Your jaw dropped.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Gwil seemed awfully cozy,” Joe replied before picking up the rag and continuing to wipe down the coffee table. You grabbed the rag from his hand, earning a sharp glare. “Hey--”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you roared, your blood boiling. “I hang out with the one fucking person I knew at my supposed ‘welcoming party’ besides you and suddenly I’m trying to fuck them?” You were shell-shocked at the accusation. Joe simply shrugged.

“The two of you were inseparable all night, what was I supposed to think?” he reasoned as he began to walk back into the kitchen. You scoffed again, tossing the rag onto the table in frustration at his nonchalant tone.

“How about the fact that you left me alone at a party full of strangers so I spent time with Gwil since you were busy with your other friends?” you fired back as you stomped into the kitchen. Joe began to wash his hands, still ignoring your piercing stare. “Like, holy shit, Joe. I know your world does not revolve around me, but the least you could do was acknowledge my existence. It’s my first night here, for fuck’s sake.”

That made him pause. He stared at the counter and you could practically hear how hard he was thinking. Suddenly, he met your gaze once again, a brazen look on his face.

“You could have come up to talk to me. I shouldn’t have to babysit you.”

His words were like a sword through your chest. Your jaw practically hit the floor this time.

“Fuck. You.” You turned on your heels and headed for the guest bedroom, angry hot tears escaping down your cheeks. You thanked your past self for barely unpacking anything before the party as you began to scoop up your toiletries and few pieces of clothing laying out on the bed and threw them back into your suitcase. 

You felt ashamed and so so stupid for thinking that this had been a good idea. And the worst feeling of all was the embarrassment at thinking that there was ever a chance of Joe reciprocating any feelings for you. You were nothing but a burden to him. Someone he felt like he would have to “babysit.” You didn’t fit in in his world and you were foolish to think you could.

“What are you doing?”

You jumped at the sound of Joe’s voice behind you; you hadn’t even heard him approach. You swiped at a stray tear and finished zipping up your bag before lugging it onto the floor and pulling up the handle.

“I’m going to check into a hotel,” you explained as you pushed your way past him, luggage dragging behind you. “I don’t feel welcome here.” You began to make your way towards the front door, already feeling overwhelmed by anxiety. You had no idea what your next move was going to be. Stay in LA and try to figure things out? Go back home to two parents who would chant “we told you so” until they were blue in the face?

Joe’s hand caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please don’t do that,” he pleaded, his tone from earlier completely gone and replaced with a much softer and more desperate one. “I’m sorry. Please stay.” You whipped around to face him.

“Which part are you sorry for?” you asked sharply. “The part where you ignored me? Or where you accused me of trying to sleep with your friend? Or maybe it’s the part where you said you shouldn’t have to ‘babysit me’?”

“All of it,” Joe replied. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you. I’m just--” he trailed off as he turned away, almost bashfully. “I can’t help but feel protective of you.”

You furrowed your brows. It didn’t make sense. He felt protective of you but didn’t want to have to ‘babysit you’? He felt protective of you but he got mad at you for talking to Gwil? You stuttered as you tried to put the pieces together, coming up empty.

“I don’t…” your voice petered out. You were completely flabbergasted. “What do you want from me, Joe?”

Joe’s eyes met yours once again, and you could see the conflict written on his face. He was struggling with something. It was almost as if he--

“I want…” he began, before taking a deep breath. “I want you to stay here tonight.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. For some reason, a part of you was hopeful he would say something else. The two of you stared at each other for a few more moments, giving him the chance to say more. But it never came. So with a soft nod, you reached for your suitcase again, pulling it behind you as you walked back into the guest room, closing the door behind you.

✧✧✧

You awoke to the smell of bacon wafting into your room. You sat up, throwing your legs over the side of the bed. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself up and headed toward the bathroom.

The sight of your face in the mirror made you cringe. You hadn’t taken off your makeup before crying yourself to sleep the night before, leaving black streaks of mascara across your cheeks. You washed your face before running a comb through your hair. You knew you looked awful, but you didn’t care. Joe had seen you worse, and honestly, his opinion of you was not high on your priority list after his hissy fit last night.

You sauntered into the kitchen with a bit of hesitation, unsure what you’d be walking into. You found Joe, furiously whisking some pancake batter.

“Hey.”

He practically jumped out of his own skin, clumsily dropping the bowl of batter to the counter, luckily with little to no mess.

“Hey,” he replied, running a hand over the back of his neck. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright,” you lied. You had agonized over every detail of the evening until practically three in the morning. But you didn’t want Joe to know that. If he knew, he didn’t let on, instead offering you a small smile.

“I made bacon and I’m about to make pancakes,” he stated, gesturing towards the stove behind him. You nodded simply and took a seat at his kitchen island.

Things were awkward. You didn’t even know where to begin. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget everything and start fresh. It would make things easier. But part of you wanted to stand strong, make sure you held him accountable for how he’d hurt you.

You mulled over everything, idly chewing on a piece of bacon as Joe worked at the stove, mumbling under his breath about the pancakes cooking inconsistently or something. After a few minutes, you were pulled from your thoughts by a plate of pancakes being placed in front of you. You glanced up to see Joe eyeing you, an uncertain look on his face.

“I’m a huge asshole,” he admitted. You opened your mouth to agree with him but he kept going. “You were right. I was avoiding you during the party. It was easier for me to convince myself that you were having a good time than to check up on you myself. I thought I…” he trailed off, losing momentum. He shook his head and began again. “I assured myself that I could handle being around you again. That enough time had passed and I could be your best friend again without a second thought. But then you walked through my front door and it all came rushing back and I panicked.”  You shook your head, trying to keep up with what Joe was trying to tell you.

“I don’t understand--”

“I’m in love with you.”

For the third time in less than twenty-four hours, your jaw dropped.

“I honestly think I’ve been in love with you since high school, but it took me well into my late twenties for me to actually realize it. And I got so caught up on this fantasy of you and I being this acting dream team, showing this fucking town who’s boss, together. And then you were here and you had spent the last week road-tripping across the country yet somehow you looked so fucking beautiful? And I just...couldn’t handle it. I invited practically everyone in my contacts to come over right away because I needed a buffer. I turned my focus to everyone else at the party because it was familiar and certain. With you there was so much uncertainty.”

He paused for a moment and collected his thoughts once again.

“And then I saw you with Gwil. I knew it wasn’t anything. But you were smiling and laughing with him and I just couldn’t help but wish you were spending your time with me. I know that doesn’t make sense. But I just got so caught up in my own head so when you finally confronted me, I panicked again. I threw everything back at you because I was afraid and embarrassed.”

You watched him as he plopped down on the stool next to you with a sigh.

“I wish I could do it all over again. There wouldn’t be a party. Just you and me like it used to be,” he continued. He turned to you, eyes sad with regret. “I am so so so sorry. You were right about everything. Except one thing. My world does revolve around you. The day you told me you were coming out here was the happiest day I’ve had in awhile. I’ve thought about nothing else since. But I completely understand if you want to leave. Hell, I’ll pay for your hotel and help you figure out what you want to do. But I also understand if you want me to just leave you alone.”

To say you were stunned would be an understatement. Your heart was pounding out of your chest at Joe’s confession. You didn’t even know what to say. There was so much that needed to be said, but you were frozen in place.

So you didn’t speak. You just moved.

You gripped the sides of Joe’s head and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. He let out a small noise in surprise, but quickly melted into the kiss, his own hands reaching for you and landing on your hips. You kissed him hard, pouring every emotion you felt into it. Every past pang of your heart when Joe had gone out of his way to do something for you. Every past flutter of your stomach when he had wrapped his arms around you. Every ounce of frustration and hurt that flooded your heart last night. He kissed you back just as eagerly, pulling you off the stool and closer to him, your chests pressing together.

You finally pulled away to gasp for breath, your forehead still pressed against Joe’s.

“I love you too, you asshole,” you breathed out, earning a chuckle from Joe. He pulled back to look at you, gently caressing your cheek with his thumb. “You think I’d uproot my entire life and move across the country if I wasn’t completely in love with you?”

Joe’s face lit up before he dove in for another kiss.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” he asked, running his hands up and down your sides. You pursed your lips as you thought it over.

“I’ll only forgive you if you help me finish unpacking,” you reasoned, a smirk playing at your lips. Joe beamed, pulling you closer to him so you were practically in his lap.

“So you’re gonna stay?”

“Of course I’m staying. Why stay in a hotel when I can stay with my former best friend?” Joe’s brows furrowed.

“Former?”

“I guess I just figured ‘love of my life’ was a better title for you,” you revealed with a smile, running your fingers through his auburn locks. Joe pulled you in for another searing kiss, standing up and pressing you against the island, earning a squeal from you. After a moment, he pulled away, grabbing your hand and practically running down the hall towards the guest room, pancakes long forgotten.

✧✧✧

Permanent Taglist (crossed out names won’t let me tag): @queenlover05​, @mrhoemazzello​, @madamsledge​, @sadhwstudent​, @johndeaconshands​, @puffnstuff08

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 09

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X  collegestudent!reader

Warnings: Mentions of weed (third-party)

Word count: 2,850

Note: I’m not emotionally ready to continue with this story sjfdnjfsdfjd.

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

“Y/N, it’ll be fine.” Jimin waved you off as you complained to him over lunch. “No, it really won’t. She blasts loud rock music, smokes weed INDOORS and leaves creepy goth dolls everywhere. It’s scary. It’s like they’re always watching you.” You shivered at the end of your sentence and Jimin rolled his eyes at your exaggeration. “Just complain to the Admins then.” Your roommate had started off okay, now, 2 months in, she had turned into an absolute monster. “I was going to but she said ‘complain about me and I’ll skin you alive’ and now I’m just scared.” Jimin cringed looking at you with sympathy, he put both his hands on your shoulders. “It was nice knowing you, Y/N. If you die can I have your boyfriend?” You were about to punch him till you stopped midway. “Jimin, you’re a genius!” You hugged him instead and hurriedly left. Jimin was offended at you abruptly leaving but shrugged it off, eating the rest of your sandwich happily.

You quickly ran to sit at the seat next to Jungkook’s desk once he was done taking a statement from this middle-aged woman. “I need a favor.” Jungkook was typing up the statement he just took, focusing on his computer, he nodded at you to continue despite how busy he seemed. “I need you to make my roommate listen to me.” He sighed, you had complained to him about your roommate nearly every day now. “Y/N I told you I can’t just arrest her or threaten to arrest her whenever I want.” “But you don’t even have to do anything, just show up in your uniform and she’ll probably get the hint. Please?”

Jungkook didn’t want to look at you. He already knew you’d be pouting and he was weak against your pouts. “Y/N it’s not very ethical to scare someone just because you don’t like them.” You groaned childishly, she was a horrible person and you couldn’t have possibly been the only person who thought so. “You don’t understand, I haven’t slept peacefully at all for the past month.” Jungkook handed you a pair of keys from his back pocket. “Go to my apartment after your classes and sleep there, okay? I’ll let you stay with me till we get your roommate situation sorted.” You hugged him tightly even though he was very busy and probably did not want to be hugged. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Jungkook was suffocating under your grasp so he pulled you away and kissed you goodbye.

When Jungkook told you his apartment was a little extra you were not expecting something that extra. Maybe you were just too accustomed to the extremely small dorm but this was surely not a normal apartment. It was on the top floor of some building and it had glass walls which you could apparently tint to solid black and the kitchen was bigger than your entire dorm. The living room was very modern and had an electric fireplace. And, the coolest part which you had discovered accidentally was a TV which came out of the table. You were quick to flop onto the couch, turning on the electric fireplace to keep you warm and praying that your random falling-off-the-bed habit wouldn’t follow you to Jungkook’s apartment.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile at you when he got home. You were sleeping peacefully hugging one of the couch pillows but on the floor. He didn’t want to wake you up so he quietly put his keys down and went into his room to change out of his uniform. You woke up from the quiet rustling, you’ve always been a light sleeper and it was a curse. When Jungkook came back you smiled at him tiredly, rubbing your eyes. “Did I wake you up?” You shook your head, not wanting him to feel bad. “Did you sleep well on the floor?” You nodded quickly before stretching out your tired limbs, not picking up his sarcasm. “Yeah but I’m still sleepy.” You tried to go back to sleep but Jungkook stopped you, sitting next to you on the couch. “Just stay awake for now, it’s only 6. I don’t want you to wake up at 3 in the morning.” You crossed your arms angrily, scowling at his very logical proclamation.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” You hummed back in agreement, your eyes still trying to pull you back into sleep. “What do you want to watch?” You shrugged, while slowly sinking into the extremely comfortable couch again. “You choose, I chose Bad Boys last time.” “Yes, and it was a great choice. Grace us with your exquisite taste once again.” You laughed sarcastically before offering a pointed glare, he ruffled your head lightly to which you glared harder. “You said they over accommodated the action parts with humor and it made the movie unbearable.” Jungkook winced at your incredibly vivid recollection of that night, messing up your hair again right after you had fixed it. “I’m not a big fan of movies.” You patted down your head, trying to fix the small mess he made. “What, how can you just not like movies? There are so many different ones out there.” He continued to skim through the selection using his remote. “They just seem boring to me.” You rolled your eyes though he didn’t see. “Of course they seem boring to you, your life is basically a James Bond movie.” Jungkook chuckles before ruffling your head once again officially ruining your ponytail. “You have clearly never watched a James Bond movie before.” You gave up trying to fix your ponytail, now too fixated with taking it out to care about what Jungkook had said. You chose a movie nonetheless.

Jungkook didn’t mean to fall asleep, he wanted to stay awake but his body betrayed him. It was towards the end of the movie when you turned to look at Jungkook, realizing he was asleep the whole time. “Wake up Jungkook you’re missing the best part.” Jungkook woke up to be met with your tearful face. “Why are you crying?” He was panicked when he woke up, you glared a little before angrily gesturing at the screen. “Maybe if you watched the movie you’d know.” Jungkook sighed before rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Jungkook went to check his phone and his heart dropped at the messaged he’d received. “What’s wrong? I was just kidding you know. I’m glad you got to rest.” You turned to him with worry painted on your face. “Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry.” You shook your head not accepting his answer, you were nothing if not perseverant. “Something’s clearly bothering you Jungkook, you can tell me.” You were soft with your words, you wanted to help him liked he continuously helped you. “It’s nothing.” “But-” “For fuck's sake Y/N it’s not important just drop it!” He yelled at you a little this time, his voice was firm and intimidating but you weren’t scared, you knew how difficult it was for some people to talk about their problems. “It seems pretty important to me.” Jungkook groaned before getting up from the couch and storming off, you let him, thinking you went a little too far.

He didn’t come back for a while and you were getting worried. You felt bad for trying to pry into his personal life so you went to go look for him so you could apologize. You knocked on his office door but you were met with silence. You opened the door slowly but Jungkook noticed you immediately. “What’s up, did you get hungry?” You shook your head and frowned a bit at his cold tone, he wasn’t happy with you and you understood why. “I’m sorry for trying to make you talk, I just wanted to help.” You spoke with an extremely soft voice in hopes that it would help you in getting him to forgive you. “Thank you for trying to help but you wouldn’t understand.”

Your face stiffened at his words but you bit back a witty remark. “Well if the only reason you’re not telling me what’s troubling you is because you’re afraid I won’t understand then I’m staying right here.” “What?” Jungkook bent his laptop screen a little, this time visibly annoyed with your rambling. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.” “Fine by me.”

Jungkook didn’t think you were serious, but now you were lying upside down on his office couch with your feet against the wall. It had been 3 hours since your declaration and you were not budging. “Y/N, it’s 10:30, go to bed.” You held your phone to your chest and looked at him. “Are you ready to tell me what’s wrong.” His face scrunched in annoyance once again. “For the last time, there’s nothing wrong.” You went back onto your phone. “I could do this forever.” Jungkook had decided enough was enough and picked you up over his shoulder. “You’re going to sleep.” You started slapping his back, telling him to put you down but naturally, he didn’t comply.

He took you to his room where he softly threw you onto his bed, getting his covers out from underneath you and trapping you in them. “Go to sleep, I’ll join you later.” You stuck your tongue out at him before angrily turning over to face the other side. Jungkook ignored your little outburst and went back into his office, he read the message over and over and each time he felt his heart plummet to his feet.

Mom

Do you have a girlfriend, Jungkook?

Read 7:36

Jungkook knew his mother and he knew that all she wanted was for Jungkook to get married and start a family like his older brother. Then Jungkook remembered the one person possible of telling his mother about his relationship was his older brother. He sighed, exasperated, not knowing how to reply to her. On one hand, he didn’t want to lie to her, but on the other, she’d ask to meet you and Jungkook wasn’t sure how to tell her you weren’t Korean.

You felt the bed dip which softly woke you up. You looked at the digital clock Jungkook had on his wall. It was nearly 1am. “Jungkook…?” You felt him turn around to face you and that’s when you realized. You’re sleeping in the same bed. You’re sleeping in the same bed.  You began to get nervous because despite you dating for a bit you were yet to get intimate with each other. “Do you have a phone charger I can borrow?” You stuttered over your words and your voice was barely above a whisper. “Pass me your phone.” You took it out from underneath your pillow and Jungkook simply put it on his bedside table. “Jungkook I really need it charged.” He chuckled at your whining, pulling you in to lay on his chest. “Relax baby, it’s a wireless charger.” “But what if my phone slid-” Jungkook cut you off by smothering your face into his chest. “Go to sleep.” And you did just that.

When Jungkook woke up the next morning you were still asleep, though now you had somehow ended up on the edge of the opposite side of the bed. Jungkook pulled you back to stop you from falling but you just turned around to aimlessly throw around your arm, trying to find his body. Jungkook’s heart warmed at your perpetual cuteness though you kind of looked like those inflated things at car sales. You opened your eyes tiredly once you realized he wasn’t next to you. “Why are you awake so early?” “What do you mean it’s 12pm?” You jumped out of bed really quickly only to see the clock read 6:30. “I hate you.” Jungkook didn’t hear you over his laughter, even he could be childish sometimes. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead before he left for work and you lulled back into your slumber.

Your 8:00am alarm woke you up and you begrudgingly turned it off, accidentally falling off the large bed in the process. You have an uncanny habit for falling off furniture and you genuinely don’t understand it. You got ready for your last weekend tutoring class, you decided you were going to take the weekends off, seeing that you’re financially stable enough. Saturday mornings were usually quiet in New York and you enjoyed the crisp weather and calm streets. The eerie silence before the inevitable hustle that was soon to come. You walked to your university from Jungkook’s apartment which was a good 20-minute-walk at your fastest but you didn’t mind. It was nice to be outside of your university for once.

You spent the rest of your day planning out your tutoring lessons and getting easily distracted by Netflix an embarrassing number of times. You played video games on Jungkook’s PlayStation but you were quick to infer that your skills were subpar. You had to admit the need to get better was an insatiable desire, you played for far too long and before you knew it, it was already midnight.

Jungkook came home far later than usual, around 1am to be exact. The second he entered the living room he collapsed onto his couch, letting out a loud huff of discontentment while removing the bulkier parts of his uniform. Jungkook didn’t notice you in the kitchen and you were glad he didn’t. You were moping at 1am while eating cereal, it was not your best look. You tried to quietly escape with your food but you accidentally dropped the spoon and Jungkook quickly turned to the side, prepared to pull his gun out of its holster. “Oh fuck, it’s just you.” You quickly bent to pick up the spoon, losing your appetite now. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Jungkook didn’t reply, too tired to notice the weirdness of this situation and you were unbelievably thankful for it. He said he was going to shower before standing up and heading to his room. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, very quietly throwing away your cereal and washing the bowl.

When Jungkook got out of the shower, he assumed you were asleep which is why he was openly changing into his clothes right in front of your seemingly unconscious body. You closed your eyes quickly the second his towel dropped and you squeaked a little which blew your cover. “Y/N? Are you still awake?” You answered with a confident ‘no’ before realizing how stupid you were. He chuckled at you. “What, you’ve never seen a man naked?” You groaned at how he was clearly enjoying this predicament. “Not in real life! No!” He stopped laughing now.  “Wait so, Miss I’m-so-grown-up Y/N is actually a virgin?” He was now dressed, though only in boxers and you were beginning to sweat nervously. “Okay listen, sex doesn’t measure maturity, leave me alone.” He ruffled your hair again, something he enjoyed doing which just brought you and your scalp great pain. “I’m kidding, Y/N, don’t cry.” He was cooing at you like an infant so you pushed him with all your strength as he tried to get onto the bed. “Fuck you!” He laughs uncontrollably before getting under the covers. “I know you won’t be able to.” You quickly stood up in an outburst of frustration. “I’m sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook pulled you back by your wrist and you fell back into his arms where he kissed you softly on the cheek. “I’m kidding, you know I love how innocent you are.” You glared back at him feeling violated. “I’m not that innocent.” Jungkook didn’t want to deal with your whining so he nodded and let himself fall asleep, spooning your angry body which was now turned away from him.

Jungkook fell asleep before you and looking at him peacefully in a deep slumber made you feel bad. Looking back at his tired face you conferred that he deserved much more than just 1 day off. You wondered just how stressful it was for him to work in such a job and you thought about your future occupation too. You were well on your path to becoming an orthopedic surgeon, seeing as operating on bones seemed to be a lot less scary than brains or hearts. You began to realize that perhaps medical school isn’t the worst possible thing, if Jungkook found it worth this much exhaustion to help people then you’re sure you could toughen up and get through some shitty classes. While you were sitting up, deep in thought, Jungkook pulled you back down into the bed as he cuddled you closely. “Stay with me.” His morning voice was deeper than his usual one, his groggy tone was exceedingly attractive but you tried to not let it get to you, letting yourself be engulfed by Jungkook’s sleepy arms.

[castleofclouds]

7 Days A Week.

Genre ; Fluff, Friendship, Slice of life, Drama.

Warnings ; possible of fourth wall breakers ( for the comedy purpose ) I dunno cringe maybe? Some cursing.

Summary ; A Story about You and Your 7 dorks ( possible another nct unit )

Part 2 ; Importance.

It's not a new news about how your boys are a totally heartthrob.

I mean, do you ever see them? You are not blind, of course you notice it.

But sometimes it's becoming too devastated actually, like do you ever imagined how bothersome is their admirers?

Let's talk about Karen.

No, not that.

Choi Hyena, basically Karen in a human form.

She chased every each one of your boy, even the minor one, well technically Jisung is a 20 years old and adult but you don't think he's old enough to be near her.

"Jisungie.." She called, Jisung who are walking right next to you stopped abruptly, he knows what's coming but he doesn't want to admit it.

Not gonna lie, Hyena is pretty.

She's totally would be a perfect girl if she got a bit of calmness within her.

".. Hmm do I know you?" Jisung said, completely irritated.

"How can you forget about me? I'm your partner in algebra class back when we still in high school!" She yelped clinging to his arm like a snake would do.

Jisung being the socially awkward he is trying his best to make Hyena grip loosened.

But he can't be harsh, he doesn't want to seem impolite, he wants to be a great person, and want to leave that impression on someone heart, unfortunately it's Hyena.

That is until he finally gave up and see you with his puppy eyes, giving you a signal to make Hyena go.

You sighed.

"Hyena, can you please leave him? He feels uncomfortable." You entreat.

They are in college Hyena acting is too much, she's like a girl who are desperate for affection, and she needs all the spotlight that she can get.

She loosened her grip on Jisung arm, Jisung went straight hiding behind you, his hand holding your arm tight like a child.

"You should calm down a little bit, and do you see? We are not a high school student anymore." You explained, she scoffed.

"You are just jealous because you don't want your boys liking me more than you." She stated.

Tired of her drama you left, with Jisung still having his arm cling to your left arm, you looked down, giving him an expression of 'she's gone now'

"No, what if she's still here? You will never know!"

You sighed leaving the babie do whatever he wants with your hands.

You go to your class, in which Jisung didn't attend, he give you last goodbye

That's more like a hug, and a pray for your luck because he knows how Miss Lucy can be a little headache.

You sit right next to Chenle, after he offered you an empty seat right next to him.

"What happened?" He asked, judging by your long face expression.

"Hyena."

Hearing her name making him shiver, the fact that girl ever become his crush back in middle school.

"Yeah, I'm not going to questioned it any further." He commented.

The class taking a lot of your time and your energy, luckily Chenle bought a chocolate, he give you one when he saw you looked like an undead monster.

Not actually, but you literally are dying.

Math is difficult, but due to your major in college, you take it, same reason as Chenle that boy will become the future CEO of a really famous Entertainment Company, so he needs to know how to be sly.

"I hate math." You stated.

"Aren't we all? I mean who likes math?" Chenle responded.

The both of you sit at the usual table the 8 of you mostly hang in cafeteria, waiting for the 6 other showing the back of their head and shining faces.

This time, not Hyena but another girl approaching the both of you.

"Hey.." She greeted, she almost sit when Chenle give a warning about how the seat is already taken.

"Oh.. I'm sorry, btw can I talk with you for a moment Chenle?" The girl asked while playing with her own dress nervously.

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?"

Her eyes are sparkling hearing the answer, the thing that she's had been dyings wanting to talk about and had been bugging her this whole semester.

But she stopped when she saw you sitting there with your chocolate muffins stuffed onto your mouth literally savoring the taste of greatest chocolate ever.

"Do you mind?" She asked you, looking straight to you with annoyance on her face.

"Owh sorry!" You said, taking your muffins away with you to sit at another table that you found, you sit right next to Jungwoo who are flustered by the sudden entrance.

"Can I sit in here? I need to eat while sitting." You asked their permission.

"Aren't you usually sit with them?" Jaehyun asked, you point towards the girl and Chenle who are talking about something.

"Must have been annoying, I mean all you want was to enjoy your muffins how dare they interrupted your free time?" Ten scoffed, you don't know the reason behind his grudge, from your perspective Chenle is a social butterfly completely different from someone you know, he can have and making mew friends any time he sees someone who had potential and criteria.

That's another reason why you befriended him, he's kind and a totally sweetheart.

"Nah, she just want to talk, beside I love sitting here, you guys want some? I have a lot." You offered them a whole bag of muffins.

They gladly take it.

NctU is a band, your friends Mark and Haechan are a part of it, even they have other subgroups like WayV and Nct127.

The groups filled with fun people, Jungwoo, Jaehyun and Ten is one of the member, they are your seniors to!

They knew how you love your time with your friends, but sometimes some girls and some guys just can't leave them alone, so you always ended up hanging out with one of the band members.

Johnny is your best friend from the group and probably one of the best senior ever in your university.

But sadly he still have class so he can't be present at the time, you sit there talking about some stuff with them.

"So I told my mom that I would love to have more muffins." You explained eagerly how you can have a muffins everyday as your dessert.

Thanks to your mother, who are best friend with Jaemin mother, who are very kind and already take you as her own daughter, sometimes she makes you muffins, she said you can take any cake or cupcake as much as you want, she doesn't mind.

"This is why I want to have a rich friend." Jaehyun commented, Ten rolling his eyes hearing it.

"Maybe instead of searching for it, you can be one of it?" Ten said, but then Jaehyun argued back then they starting a debate competition.

You and Jungwoo just seeing the mess unfold, it's a normal day in your college, so you never really mind of it, like you knew how chaotic it can be if Renjun and Haechan meet each other.

The next thing you know, they are already at each other throat, strangled each other, even choking each other if one of them aren't done yet they start throwing fist.

It's Renjun instinct, you to sometimes bickering with Haechan, that boy just love to get a fist up his throat.

So yeah..

"You want to order a strawberry smoothie?" Jungwoo asked, you nodded he then went straight to the counter to order it.

Jaemin are finally finished his class, he went straight to the cafeteria, accompanied by Jeno, Haechan and Renjun that he met at the corridor.

He then saw you at Nct127 table, it's unusual, for you to be ended up there, but then he saw the reason, there's another girl at their usual table.

"Hello Chenle." He went straight to him, ready to scold Chenle for leaving you alone.

Haechan, Jeno and Renjun already stuffed their ears with an earphone bud.

They knew what coming, and they don't want to hear Jaemin ultrasonic nagging skill.

He glance at the girl, she smile innocently.

"I'm sorry who are you?" He start with his enrage expression, he folded his hand and put it in front of his chest, his chin are slightly up.

"Hmm.. I'm Jimin?" She said, absolutely oblivious what's coming for her.

"Well Jimin, I'm Jaemin, I'm sorry but what could be the problem you had or business with Chenle?"

"I want to talk to him, am I not allowed?"

"You are allowed of course but for what reason is it?"

"I just want to talk with him?"

Jaemin sighed, he put the colliding both of his palm making a wish gesture pointing it towards an empty seat right next to Chenle, where you were supposed to sit.

"I'm sorry but where is YN?"

She pointed at Nct127 table, you waved happily.

"See? She's happy there, now can you leave me alone? I want to talk with Chenle only." She gabble.

"Well I'm sorry miss, you are at my seat, and YN is a part of this seat, why can't she be here? She doesn't need to talk with you, and pretty sure she wasn't interested in any of your story so don't worry about eaves dropping." He complained.

"I just want to talk with Chenle only, and only him, doesn't need that friend of yours called YN or anything." She talked back, Chenle is taken aback by the sudden outburst.

"Why? Your friends is fun to, why don't you hang out with them?" Jaemin asked patiently, he doesn't like the way Jimin sudden blabbering.

"Because.. They're boring? Who likes to be friend with them anyway." She said, without much thought.

Boom, Jaemin was right, and he's filled with rage, how can Jimin act like that isn't important.

"Wait what?" Chenle finally speak up, noticing how obnoxious she is.

"What? I'm right, wasn't I?" She said again.

"No you weren't."

Her friends seeing that unfold, they felt betrayed, they knew it will come, but still they befriended her.

"Ooh.. Tea." Haechan mumble, whispering to himself.

She saw it, her friends leaving her, she followed them while angrily stomping her feet to the ground.

Drama.

"You guys can sit.." Chenle talk again after some long minute of silence, offered an empty seat right next to him.

But Jaemin having enough of it.

"Today, at YN house, we need to discuss about something."

Chenle gulped in nervousness, he know if he's going to get scolded, after they are done with college.

A few hours later.

Everyone was done with their classes, cramped their way, sitting down at YN living room, no one are brave enough to speak even Haechan, everyone know how scary Jaemin can be.

"Nana?" Mark called, Jaemin focus move slowly towards him, and glared.

"Okay, I want to talk to you guys about what's importance, I knew we can have friend outside of our group I knew it, but we can't just ignored the other other one and turn blind eye to the other." Jaemin said giving his piece of mind.

"Wait who's ignoring who?" Jisung asked getting everyone attention, the boy doesn't know anything and out of nowhere there's a discussion.

"One of us, are too busy talking too the other and forget that we shouldn't have left the other on hanging."

"What do you mean? I'm not leaving her, I would never!" Chenle declares, Jisung who finally getting the hang of the situation became silent.

"I guess it's not Chenle fault." Jeno said backing Chenle's back.

"Are you sure? He looked very happy though talking with that beautiful girl." Renjun said sarcastically.

"Yeah, you should see how sad YN was." Haechan argued.

"Come on guys, it's not a big problem." You said.

Everyone went silent, how can you be so fine of it? It's a big thing, and yet you don't mind of it even just a bit?

"I mean, she's just asking me if she can have a talk with Lele, so I just nodded and leave, it's not like we must always hanging with only our group of friends, do you guys realize how we can still be friends without having to hang out and giving time for each other 24/7? No right? We can befriended anybody talk to anybody instead of making a fuss about some of us are being ignorant with the other I prefer to not having any discussion about things like this."

Chenle who heard that sobbing, he stand and make his way to sit next to you while pushing haechan out of his way, then hugging you tight.

"You know how I always say I love you? I love you more today." He said while still hugging you tightly, everyone who heard your smart brain cells argument are crying to.

Even Mark, he give you a thumbs up for your great understanding, you don't understand what's happening but you guess they are just being a great friend, they care for you and never want you to feel left out, Jaemin smiles, Jeno laugh it off, Renjun eyes becomes soft, he hugged Jisung who are waiting for your hug, but Chenle doesn't want to leave you your side he's so busy hanging around you like a baby koala.

They care so much for you they don't want you felt lonely and left out.

You are glad they are your friend, there's nothing that can describe this warm feeling you felt right now.

It's much better, even though you still feel sad about Jimin's friends, you just hope they can make up with each other or at least trying to make Jimin apologize for the misunderstood.

Any other way, you loved your friends you hope the bond between the 8 of you are getting stronger day by day.

May I get my hug to?

"No!"

Dang it.

Narrator felt attacked once again, then leave the room, your living room are just full by the sight of you and your friends hugging each other and Haechan who are bothering the shit out of Renjun.

The next thing you know Renjun and Haechan are playing the tag game, if Haechan get caught he's dead.

Chenle and Renjun already make up, they become buddy-buddy again, everyone are happy again, the big TV are showing the we bare bears.

Who cares if you are 20 or anything, cartoon is great, besides there are no specific age to watch a cartoon.

One day is done, narrator are waiting for the tray to pull down.

But it's never come. Heck.

Previous / Next.

A/N ;

This is trash thank you 😃

I dunno, it's just weird, but I need to upload it anyway, I'm short in ideas, I was thinking to write something but my hands don't want to make me do it 😒

This is cringe too.. I don't know? There's a lot of wasteful humor, I know how the drama is just too much but I'm desperate for some drama to unfold.

Anyway, thank you for all the like :" I just want to say how much I feel appreciated :" I love you guys thank you soo much.

Tag ;

[ranma-rewatch]

Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

(CONTENT WARNING: This blog post contains discussion of phobias, child abuse, and people doing the worst thing to intensify those problems. Those things are in the show, I didn’t just bring them up out of nowhere.)

Well, it’s that time again. Time to grab a balloon and tell my friends what I think of an episode of Ranma 1/2. We’re starting the first arc of season two with this episode, though oddly enough I feel like I mostly remember what stuff is going to happen in it. But maybe I don’t remember right? I’d love it if that is the case. Though...speaking of that...there is a certain character I have dreaded appearing in this series, and I’d hoped he wouldn’t appear for a while, but I checked and he appears this season. I...I thought I had more time. Oh well, let’s do this episode and I’ll worry about him when he gets here.

Okay, well, for the most part, this episode is actually a lot better than I remember it being. As it turns out, some of the details mutated in my head in the decade since I last saw it, and I actually thought things were worse than they were.

The episode starts in the Kuno manor, where our favorite swordsman is practicing to once again fight Ranma Saotome. But he’s not alone, because for the first time we meet Kuno’s henchman, Sasuke. He’s a ninja, and he’ll do whatever Kuno tells him to do, but he probably won’t do it very well.

From there, we see Ranma’s dad is training him in stupid ways again, and they get back to the house to find Shampoo has mailed Ranma something from China: a pink cat. That’s a problem, because Ranma has a severe cat phobia. It’s not random, either, Genma directly created it. See, when Ranma was 6, Genma thought he should teach his son Cat Fu, which he heard about from an ancient martial arts manuscript. The way to teach it is to cover the disciple in fish sausage and through them into a room with starving cats.

Obviously, that just ended up traumatizing Ranma, and the very next page of the book would have told Genma that training someone that way is very stupid. Kasumi, drawing on the common misunderstandings people have about exposure therapy, thinks that just inviting a ton of cats to be around will help, but of course it doesn’t, it makes Ranma even more distressed. Sasuke is hiding under the floorboards though, and he runs off to tell Kuno about Ranma’s weakness.

At first, Kuno says something about how he could never cowardly use an opponent’s weakness to unfairly win, but then he still makes Sasuke tell him about it, because he can still use it to win in an honorable way. The plan they go for is pretty ridiculous: they leave a note in Ranma’s locker that Akane’s been kidnapped, and he has to go to the gym to save her. But Akane is standing next to Ranma as he reads the note, so he knows that’s not true.

He goes anyway out of curiosity, only to find Sasuke there dressed up as Akane. With the wrong color wig. Even though the trap keeps failing, Ranma walks into it anyway because he has nothing better to do, until he realizes what is going on: cats. But Ranma manages to fight the fear and pretend he’s okay, hoping to just take Akane out of there, but then it becomes clear Sasuke took the extra step of also bringing an enormous tiger.

That’s when we cut back to Genma and Kasumi, and the old man explains that he tried curing Ranma of his phobia, but his way of doing so was to just keep throwing him at hungry cats, only changing the type of food attached to his body. All of it just made the problem worse, but it also actually led to Ranma developing Cat Fu. When Ranma gets scared enough, his mind just let’s go and he mentally becomes a cat.

That happens in the basement of the school, making it easy for him to beat the tiger and escape, just in time to kick Kuno’s butt without even trying. But he doesn’t stop there, and starts running around the school still acting like a cat. Akane follows him just as the dads show up. Genma says the only way to break Ranma out of it when he was a kid was with the help of a kindly old lady, but she’s dead. So, Genma tries dressing up and doing it himself. That fails, so they try catnip, forgetting that Ranma just thinks he’s a cat, so the stuff doesn’t really affect him.

The situation does kind of solve itself, as Ranma doesn’t attack Akane, as she’s afraid of, but instead curls up in her lap to purr. The whole school is watching, so that’s embarrassing for her, but then he kisses her and she freezes for a second before throwing Ranma into the school pool. Oh, and the pink cat is watching and didn’t like that. The curse activating returns his brain to normal, and Ranma has no clue why he was thrown in a pool. Akane walks home, cursing Ranma for doing that, but sounding conflicted.

So, the big thing I misremembered about this episode was I thought Genma did all the cat stuff with 0 thoughts about how it would affect Ranma and not giving a crap how it affected his son. That is actually not the case, he’s clearly really torn up about the phobia, though he still says some bad stuff about Ranma being ‘unmanly’ for having a phobia. He even tried to cure Ranma, a few times. It’s just that, well, his actions still traumatized Ranma. Sufficient ignorance is indistinguishable from malice, as they say. Genma is still, on the whole, abusive to Ranma in my opinion, but he’s not as bad as he could have been, I have to admit.

This was also just a funny episode. The comedy largely worked, even if some of the jokes didn’t quite land. Kuno and Sasuke were especially good, and I found Ranma fighting his fear both humorous and kind of inspiring. The man has a hell of a willpower. Not going to lie, the Cat-Ranma just immediately going for Akane’s lap and then kissing her was cute, I really liked that. Of course, I’m a sucker for anything with them, so I’m an easy mark there.

It’s also interesting how this works as the first part of a large arc, because if you didn’t know that was the case I can imagine thinking this was just a standalone episode. The pink cat was the impetus for the plot, but it’s what will drive the coming episodes forward.

One thing I found annoying was how different the dub and sub were this time around, in terms of script. The dub had a lot more bashing of Ranma for being scared of cats, including from Akane. That isn’t in the subtitled version at all, and I thought the episode worked a lot better there. I’m always a fan of taking liberties with a localization in order to make the story work better in the new country, but I don’t think we needed Akane insulting Ranma for his trauma.

Hey, a Character Spotlight again! Haven’t had one of these in a bit, and this one is for Sasuke Sarugakure. Let’s start with his voice actors. In the English dub, he’s voiced by Robert O. Smith. Does that name sound familiar? It should, I talked about him recently, since he’s the one who voiced Genma Saotome in the dub as well. His voice for Sasuke is extremely comedic, going for an over-the-top pathetic voice. He makes Sasuke just sound like comic relief, which he is. What’s interesting is what the other actor does with him.

In Japanese, he’s played by Shigeru Chiba, another voice actor from this show in Japan who is just known for a billion things. Standouts include Buggy the Clown in One Piece, Emperor Pilaf and Raditz in the Dragon Ball franchise, and dubbing over John de Lancie as Discord in the Japanese dub of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. I was completely shocked to hear him play Sasuke with more gravitas, using a very serious voice that one would expect from a ninja, which clashed perfectly with the situations and his character design to make the comedy far better than in the dub. One of those rare times I’m actually preferring the Japanese version!

As a character, Sasuke is interesting because he’s not in the manga at all. For reasons none seem to know, the creative team for the anime decided to delay introducing minor character Hikaru Gosenkugi, and replaced him with Sasuke. We’ll get to Hikaru when he appears, but I don’t really mind Sasuke’s addition to the show. Giving Kuno a henchman just makes his dynamic even better, and there’s something I just really like to Sasuke’s almost naive way of trying to plot and scheme. I don’t actually have any deep analysis, at least not as of yet, just wanted to give him a moment in the Spotlight for being something interesting.

I didn’t expect to like this episode so much! It wasn’t great, there were parts I didn’t care for, but on the whole I’m happy to see my expectations overcome. I’m putting this episode in the middle of the pack, at the #10 slot. It was fun, but it has a lot of better episodes when it comes to making me smile. (Or cry.)

Episode 7: Enter Ryoga, the Eternal ‘Lost Boy’  

Episode 12: A Woman's Love is War! The Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 15: Enter Shampoo, the Gung-Ho Girl! I Put My Life in Your Hands

Episode 9: True Confessions! A Girl's Hair is Her Life!

Episode 2: School is No Place for Horsing Around

Episode 19: Clash of the Delivery Girls! The Martial Arts Takeout Race

Episode 6: Akane's Lost Love... These Things Happen, You Know

Episode 13: A Tear in a Girl-Delinquent's Eye? The End of the Martial Arts Rhythmic Gymnastics Challenge!

Episode 17: I Love You, Ranma! Please Don’t Say Goodbye

Episode 20: You Really Do Hate Cats!

Episode 16: Shampoo's Revenge! The Shiatsu Technique That Steals Heart and Soul

Episode 8: School is a Battlefield! Ranma vs. Ryoga

Episode 11: Ranma Meets Love Head-On! Enter the Delinquent Juvenile Gymnast!

Episode 4: Ranma and...Ranma? If It’s Not One Thing, It’s Another

Episode 5: Love Me to the Bone! The Compound Fracture of Akane's Heart

Episode 1: Here’s Ranma

Episode 3: A Sudden Storm of Love

Episode 10: P-P-P-Chan! He's Good For Nothin'

Episode 14: Pelvic Fortune-Telling? Ranma is the No. One Bride in Japan

Episode 18: I Am a Man! Ranma's Going Back to China!?

Next time we’ll continue this tale with "This Ol' Gal's the Leader of the Amazon Tribe!" which, as you might guess from the title, will introduce a new character. This one’s actually from the manga! See you then, y’all.