#I LOVE THESE TAG GAMES SO MUCH 💔💔💔 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bucketbueckers · 4 days ago

Text

RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER ONE

content: language, light alcohol use, the line between a slow burn and a fast burn is incredibly thin and cam and paige brought a ruler to measure it, unbelievably messy

wc: 6.3k

notes: super excited to start writing this for y'all 🫶 this has been in my drafts since february and im so happy that everything is finally falling into place for it. i will probably go back to eventually add a playlist but i was feeling very uninspired on that front sooo 😕 just know reckless driving by lizzy mcalpine and vibes by chase atlantic are the two main songs for this fic. i don't have as much of this prewritten like i did irp and i go back to class on the 30th so i have no idea what updates r gonna look like 💔 pls be patient w me but i love chatting w y'all so don't hesitate to send an anon 🫶 if i missed anyone on the taglist lmk, i still dont know how it works LMAO but i hope you guys love camille as much as i do (and as much as y'all loved tess) and as always lmk what y'all think and enjoyyy 🙂‍↔️

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog

Camille has always loved draft night.

There’s something so bittersweet, yet so impossibly exciting about it. She attended her first one in 2019 to support her Stanford teammate, Alanna Smith, who was drafted 8th overall to the Mercury. Cam was a rising junior when she heard Alanna’s name be called, when she watched her walk to the stage and pose with the jersey, when she realized just how monumental it is.

Draft night is one of those things that creep up on you. It’s easy to think about how long it takes, to sit there while the teams “make” their selection, as if they didn’t already know whose name they would be calling. In fairness, it’s a lot of sitting and waiting and watching highlight tape and analysts discussing the same things in different fonts.

She has great size, a true beast in the paint, they’d say. Or variations of, Her shot is clinical. The ball is through the net before you can get a hand up to defend. She’s dangerous in transition. A menace on defense.

Camille, honestly, doesn’t pay attention to that part. She pays attention to the people. That’s always been her thing. When she watched Alanna get drafted, she noticed the way her shoulders sunk in barely concealed relief. She noted the order in which she hugged the people at her table, the way she closed her eyes and held onto them a little tighter.

It’s bittersweet to know that the draft may take you far away from these people – your friends, your family, the teammates and coaches that held you up when everything had seemed so impossible. But it’s exciting, to watch these girls wipe away their tears, to hold their chin up and march across the stage like it was something they were destined to do as soon as they picked up the ball for the first time.

Cam likes that part where it sinks in. When they realize they’d truly been drafted to one of the most competitive leagues in the country, when the smiles come quicker than the tears. It’s that strong feeling of pride that keeps her coming back to watch these girls lift their jerseys.

Cam might not know a lot of them. She didn’t know Jackie well, or Phee, or Tearia, or Arike – but she stood and cheered as if they were her own teammates. Whether it was a conscious realization or not, they’d all had the same dreams of playing professional basketball. Draft night was something that just took them one step closer to that goal.

The 2020 draft was streamed online, and there wasn’t anyone from Stanford that had been selected for it that year, but Cam hosted a small, intimate watch party with her teammates.

And the 2021 draft? That one was hers. Her table consisted of her parents, Antoine and Valerie, her older sister Colette, and Coach VanDerveer. Her teammates filled the seats in the back and when Cam was selected first overall to the Dallas Wings, the room had exploded into an applause so raucous that you’d think Cam just scored a game winner.

She doesn’t think she’s an explosive player by any means. She’s calm. Confident. Dangerously consistent, known more for the leadership and poise that she brings to the court. At 6’2, she’s most comfortable in a versatile point-forward role, and while her offense is amazing, her defense is even better. Cam was the unanimous pick for the 2021 Rookie of the Year, so she thinks she might be doing something right.

Cam still went to the drafts. She greeted the new rookies, congratulating them and welcoming them into the league in a far kinder way than the other vets would (she likes to think she was preparing them for all of the Griner screens they’d get hit by). She made a conscious effort to prioritize the Wings rookies, knowing first hand how daunting it can be to go from the college season to suddenly being thrown in with the big dogs. It was less about networking and more about genuinely trying to make the rookies feel like they belonged.

It might be the younger sister in her. She’d spent so much of her life looking up to Coley – literally and figuratively since Coley was both three inches taller than her and somehow the coolest person she knew. She’s always a little bit in awe of everyone she meets.

To Cam, to go from being the one who used to look up to others to now have people looking up to her – that means a lot. It’s a role she takes seriously, even though Arike teases her about becoming the frontman of the unofficial Dallas Wings welcome squad.

Her rookie contract expired at the end of the 2024 season, although the front office had her in discussions for an extension. Cam wasn’t completely sold on returning. With a vacancy in the GM position, the head coach position, as well as the fact that Cam did not know what direction they were going in during the free agency period – okay, Cam might be hating a little too much. Dallas was her home, but things weren’t looking great, and she had offers from Atlanta, Connecticut, Phoenix, and Las Vegas.

Then Dallas won the draft lottery, which meant they’d get the first pick. Which unofficially translated to getting Paige Bueckers, which meant under the right GM, the right coach, and some good free agency moves, the Wings – hypothetically – wouldn’t suck as much. Insert new GM Curt Miller, then head coach Chris Koclanes – Camille honestly could not wrap her head around the fact that Curt passed on Lisa fucking Leslie for a USC assistant coach, but she was willing to give him a shot.

They would draft Paige Bueckers. The new staff promised as much. Through trades, they were getting Ty Harris, NaLyssa Smith, and DiJonai Carrington, and they signed Myisha Hines-Allen out of free agency. Despite a promising offseason period, Cam was sure she had her decision as soon as the lottery results were official. She signs the contract extension – just a one year deal given the new league negotiations – and that’s how she finds herself repping the Wings at the 2025 WNBA Draft.

“Camille Roman, as I live and breathe,” Rickea coos dramatically, and Cam grins as she allows herself to get swept into the interview. “If I had a dollar for every tall, Stanford baddie named Cam I knew, I’d have two dollars, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice, right?”

Cam nods solemnly as Rickea holds the microphone out for her. “Nai would kill me if I didn’t mention it, but for the record, I would like to point out that we are bad and educated,” she says into the mic, making direct eye contact with the camera.

“I know that’s right,” Rickea hums approvingly, before a slick grin appears on her glossed lips. “Emphasis on bad. Tell me about your fit.”

“Well, I just saw Kiki Iriafen walk by, so I’m feeling a little underdressed,” she starts, which makes Rickea laugh. Cam peers down at her outfit, pinching the fabric of her black bomber jacket modestly, pulling the lapels to reveal a simple white crop top. She’s wearing a pair of baggy black cargos that hang low on her hips, revealing toned muscle from hours in the gym. “This fit is a Cam Roman original. Uh, jacket’s from…my closet. Crop top also from my closet.”

“Are the pants also from Cam’s closet?” Rickea asks sarcastically.

Cam grins proudly. “These are actually from Coley’s closet. I stole them when I watched her play the Rise on Thursday – shout out to the Orlando Valkyries, by the way.” Then, with mock sadness, she adds, “In another life I’m a libero.”

“Still no luck convincing your sister to pick up a basketball?”

“Coley is unfortunately married to volleyball,” Cam replies, much to Rickea’s amusement. “I’m working on it, though! I keep trying to tell her that a Roman frontcourt would be nasty but she’s just not seeing the vision.”

“Dozens of WNBA players across the country just breathed a sigh of relief,” Rickea narrates. “Centers, your jobs are safe.”

“For now,” Cam interrupts.

Rickea nods in agreement, an unserious frown on her lips. “For now.” The two of them share a brief laugh before Rickea straightens up, eyeing her next interviewee from her periphery. “Alright, Cam, one last question and I’ll let you get out of here. It’s hard to beat the 2024 draft class–” Cam narrows her eyes at Rickea, who flutters her eyelashes innocently, although the both of them grin, “–but what are your first impressions of the 2025 class? What do you see from them?”

“Oh, energy,” Cam answers immediately, not having to think too hard about it. Rickea nods, listening. “I think this is a class that will surprise many people and will form the core of a lot of teams. Everyone jokes about their first ‘welcome to the league’ moment from a vet but I wouldn’t be surprised to see any of these rookies getting scrappy and giving that energy right back.”

Rickea’s grin is a little mischievous as she asks, “Any rookie in particular who might give you a run for your money?”

Camille smiles innocently, knowing exactly what Rickea means by this question, but she plays coy. “If I do my job right, then the league should be very scared of my rookies.”

Rickea thanks her, giving her a quick hug before she greets Georgia Amoore. Cam wanders around the orange carpet for a brief minute to say hello to some of the other rookies – Saniya Rivers, Hailey van Lith, and even Kiki again, who makes a joke about Stanford baddies that Cam can’t help but laugh at.

Cam doesn’t see the one rookie she’d spent the better part of the night looking for, which doesn’t shock her. She’s sure that Paige is somewhere outside getting hounded by photographers and reporters. Making her way through the room in which the draft is being held, glancing minutely at the crowd assembled and the families located at the center, Cam finds the backstage area set up for rookies to do media in.

Camille greets the workers warmly, accepting a Dallas Wings hat from one of them, and fits it snugly over her head. She gets dragged into a few media segments, answering more or less different variations of the same questions – What are you most excited for this upcoming season? Can you comment on the offseason trades? She even gets asked a less than subtle, Paige Bueckers is projected to be the number one pick tonight. What elements of her game set her apart from the rest of her peers? Cam answers that one with a response she’s sure she hand-selected from the Communication 101: Mastering the Art of Dodging the Question textbook, but everyone moves on when the draft officially starts.

Cam watches from a television set up in the back. The camera pans across a few of the draftees – Paige Bueckers herself, then Dominique Malonga, then further back to the audience where the entirety of the UConn women’s basketball team sits with their phones raised and wide grins on their faces. The sight makes Cam crack a smile, too, reminding her of her own draft where her Stanford teammates filled the audience to support her.

The commissioner, Cathy Engelbert, leaves the stage to await the Wings’ first pick, which amuses Cam because she knew they knew who they were drafting as soon as the draft lottery results were announced. While she waits, her phone buzzes, distracting her from the analysts’ commentary, and she glances down to find the team group chat alive with commotion.

Rike: Thank you God!!! 🙏🙏🙏

Maddy: Arike 😭

Nai: where’s the rookie welcome party

Already knowing that DiJonai is referring to her, Cam rolls her eyes, but angles her body towards the television to snap a quick selfie of her, Wings hat pulled low over her brow and the analysts discussing Paige’s game mechanics in great detail. She sends the selfie in chat, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Cam: I can’t wait for us to draft 2025 Rookie of the Year Sonia Citron

Lyss: girl

Lyss: be so fucking for real

Nai: oh i am so sick of ur ass

Cam grins to herself, not having the time to respond back. She slides her phone into her pocket and refocuses on the television screen as the commissioner returns to the podium. A hush falls over the crowd. Cam knows who they’re drafting. Cam knows that she knows she’s being drafted. Despite that, she can’t help but feel a flicker of nerves coiling low in her belly.

Draft night is always a monumental moment. One rookie can change the future of a franchise forever. Just a few syllables spoken into a microphone and a jersey held up for the entire world to see can change a rookie’s life in seconds.

Cam is anxious – it’s a simmering, bubbling excitement that makes her want to hit the gym as soon as the last pick is called. The idea of playing with such an elite player — the idea of playing with Paige — makes her almost giddy, and Cam knows that she isn’t the only one on the Wings who thinks that.

They’d never had much of an opportunity to meet outside of the rare occasion in which Paige showed up to a WNBA game, or the summer she showed up to All-Star weekend. Cam was drafted the spring before Paige’s sophomore year so they’d just barely missed each other collegiately.

But now, Paige is about to be drafted by Cam’s team. Cam isn’t stupid. She knows Paige is a once in a lifetime generational player. She’d go as far to say that she’s their missing piece. Between Paige, Arike, Cam, NaLyssa or DiJonai or Maddy, and Myisha or Teaira or Luisa, they compose a roster that, under the right leadership, could genuinely go so far. And as much as Cam wants to win, she would love to do it with these girls right here.

Cam isn’t anxious just because she can taste the beginning of something new. Something promising – something that might turn this franchise around for the better. The anxiety reminds her of how she’d felt when she was moments away from being called number one, too; when the Wings had thought she was their franchise piece. And, sure, they had some success under her, but there was always just something missing.

Cam was a leader. She was the glue, but as good as she was at keeping things together, she could only stretch so far. She was consistent – maybe devastatingly so.

The thing about entropy is that chaos has to increase or remain consistent. The thing about Camille is that she’s not chaos. The thing about Paige Bueckers is that Cam knows she’s probably the perfect amount of chaos that will simultaneously set the league ablaze, stabilize it all at once, and make things just dangerous enough to fill their mouths with the addicting taste of adrenaline.

That is terrifying because the one emotion that burns a little brighter than the anxiousness is a fierce protectiveness. Paige is made for this, for the league, for the noise, for everything. She’s grounded in her faith and her mentality. She’s probably the most league-ready rookie in the entire draft class and that’s what makes Cam so fearful – because Cam was once hailed as the most-league ready rookie, too, and trying to pretend that she was almost killed her. Cam has lived it. Learned it. Grew from it. And as much as she knows that Paige is capable and can handle herself, Cam also knows that the stakes are so much higher now.

She’s not a stranger to it – the feeling of everyone constantly wanting more from you. Praising you when you have amazing games, downplaying your talent when you have decent games (yet uplifting other players and calling them generational for putting up the same numbers), wondering if your team had scouted wrong or made a mistake when you have an off-game.

In the league, it’s difficult to discern what is real – or who is real – when everyone wants something a little different from you, if you’re truly trusting the right people, if you’re truly trusting yourself.

Cam doesn’t want Paige to get lost in that. Not in the way she had when she was a rookie. She doesn’t fully believe that she’s ready for this narrative because no one ever is. There’s no amount of prayer, or media training, or support that ever truly makes you ready for it.

Being on top of the world is complicated because it’s so easy to forget who you used to be before you clawed your way to the peak. Before your fingers bled and scabbed over from the calloused rocks. Before every bone in your body ached, not because of the constant exertion it takes to stay up here, but because of a sort of exhaustion that calcifies in between your tendons and ligaments and buries itself in the soft tissue between your joints.

Being great is hard. Being great and being true is even harder, and all Cam ever wanted was for someone to tell her that she didn’t have to dive into the deep end just to prove that she could swim.

So when Cathy finally says the words, “With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Dallas Wings select…Paige Bueckers, University of Connecticut,” there is only one thing that Cam knows for sure:

This season is going to change her life. That thought doesn’t scare her as much as it should.

In retrospect, maybe that thought should have scared her.

Cam likes to think of herself as sensible. Level-headed. She’s always the voice of reason on the court when one of her teammates gets a little too heated trying to argue a foul call with a ref. Cam enjoys a good time, but she’s not reckless. She knows better. Her parents were both Olympians – she had eyes on her long before she picked up a basketball and the attention only grew when both she and Coley started getting recognized for their proficiency at their respective sports.

That’s all to say she was responsible. She knew how to play the game, how to divert the media, and what she reasonably should not be doing so she didn’t draw any unnecessary attention to her or her family.

Now, she’s realizing there might be some flaw in her otherwise immaculate decision making, because everything just goes downhill after the draft.

Paige Bueckers, the rookie of the hour, makes her way backstage, Wings hat tucked pristinely over her head. Cam can’t help but soften at the sight, unmistakable pride swelling in her chest – Paige’s smile is tender, a little loose, but her eyes are wide and excited. She almost looks like a kid on a sugar rush and it’s an expression that Cam knows well. It’s that expression that makes flying out to the draft every year so worth it.

Cam takes in Paige’s draft fit with a raised brow. She’s wearing an all black suit that sparkles in the light, and she bites back a smile at the exposed skin at her chest. “Number one pick in the draft and you can’t afford a shirt?” she asks teasingly.

Paige huffs, sounding more like a breathless laugh, and her eyes sparkle. “NIL ain’t what it used to be,” she jokes.

Cam laughs, too, holding her arms out, and Paige wraps her up in a hug. “Welcome to the Wings, rook,” she says softly, meaning every word, and she feels Paige’s entire body relax. When they break apart, Cam stuffs her hands in her pockets, bouncing on her heels, and Paige stares at her with something that might be an overwhelmed wonder. “Just so you know, I’ve been working on my rookie hazing rituals. Maddy said the tar and feathers were a hard no, but we all agreed that the first round of drinks are on you.”

“Oh, so I was just drafted for my Amex, huh?” Paige says unseriously.

“Sorry you had to find out this way,” Cam responds, feigning sadness and trying not to grin. “I don’t know if we’ll have room for you on the roster, but maybe you could put those TikTok dances to good use and figure something out for halftime.” Paige stares at her unbelievingly before eventually, the corner of Cam’s lips twitch from the effort of keeping her face neutral.

The blonde’s expression melts, her shoulders relaxing with something like relief – like the Wings aren’t so unfamiliar after all. They’re already bantering like they’ve been friends for years. Paige is one of those basketball players that has a good working relationship with everyone, but the fact that friendship can come so quickly undoubtedly makes this transition easier for her.

“You’re not gonna take it easy on me, are you?” Paige asks, amused.

Cam gives her a gentle nudge with her elbow, her smile softening. “C’mon,” she says knowingly. “You’re a Husky. Something tells me you wouldn’t like easy, anyways.”

Something in Paige’s expression flickers, almost as though she hadn’t been expecting that response, almost as though she’s seeing Cam in a different light now. “I wouldn’t,” she agrees. Her tone is a little quieter, but her eyes still sparkle with that post-draft high, an excitement that doesn’t quite go away.

It’s at that moment that one of the media coordinators waves Paige over, wanting to run a couple segments and get some shots and interviews for the league page. Before the blonde can go, Cam rests a tentative hand over her wrist, stopping her, and when they meet eyes again, it’s like she loses all of her confidence.

She clears her throat, trying to find the words. She has a million statements at the tip of her tongue, but the one that comes out is, “I’m happy you’re here.”

Fuck. Even though Paige’s cheeks flush and her smile turns tender, Cam winces and sighs, because that was not supposed to be her opening line. “We all are,” she’s quick to correct. “You’re not gonna find a better group of girls anywhere else in the league. We’ve got your back, always. And…I know that you’re capable. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. But trust me when I say this transition can be difficult.” Cam bounces on her heels again, a nervous smile lighting up her face, her voice softening. “Just…don’t hesitate to reach out. Or ask for help. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all me.”

The both of them are silent for a moment. Paige studies her carefully, as if searching her features for something. Cam isn’t sure what she’s looking for, but she hopes her rookie can see the earnestness, the assurance that no matter what, she’s ten toes down behind her.

Then, Paige’s smile grows, unrestrained if not a little bashful. “Thanks, Camille,” she says, the use of her full name causing a matching smile of Cam’s own to appear on her face. “I really appreciate that.”

Simply, she nods, extending her arms again, and she and Paige fall into one last hug. The media coordinators are getting impatient now. They break away quickly and Paige starts to follow one of them further backstage, but she spins on her heel, a palm reaching up to stabilize the lapels of her blazer as she calls out to Cam. “Nike’s throwing an after party for me later,” she says. “You should come by. First round’s on me, right?”

Huffing in amusement, Cam stuffs her hands in her pockets again if only to give them something to do. She cocks her head a little, thinking it over – she has an early flight back to Dallas in the morning to speak at UTA, then she has an afternoon workout with a trainer. She knew she would be a problem if she stayed up too late partying, but when she takes in Paige’s expression, the slight confidence mixed with a strong look of hope, she finds that she’d never truly had a backbone to begin with.

“I’ll see you there, rook,” she confirms, trying not to feel too proud of herself when Paige’s grin brightens. Finally, she disappears around the corner, and Cam exhales sharply as she redirects her attention back to the TV.

Cathy’s just now returning with the selection from Seattle, stepping up to the microphone again, but all Cam can think about is her rookie. Paige had said that Cam wasn’t going to make it easy for her. Part of Cam wonders if Paige was aware of the fact that Paige wasn’t going to make it easy for Cam, either. All it took was one look, one hopefully asked question for Cam to change her plans entirely.

The scary part? Cam wasn’t even sure if she minded all too much.

The subsequent afterparty smells like spilled liquor, the heady undertone of weed, and the musk of sweat. Cam has to dodge a few dancing bodies when she finally walks in, tucking her jacket closer to herself so as to not soak in any of the sloshing alcohol, and she presses herself up to the tips of her toes to try to look for the woman of the hour. The lighting is dim, strobe lights flashing, and the music courses through every inch of her veins. She’s confident that she’ll wake up tomorrow morning with the sound of the bass still reverberating through her ears.

People in various stages of inebriation are packed tightly together, which makes it difficult for Cam to squeeze her way to the front, but she manages to make it through the most contested sections. When she reaches the front of the room, she finds Paige at the center of a large circle, holding a huge tray of shots in her hand, and she has a grin on her lips as she passes them out.

Her wings cap is tucked over her head – some things never change, Cam thinks – although she’s redressed in an oversized, white button down and sparkling gray dress pants. Cam looks her up and down, figuring out pretty quickly that the ensemble is a full Nike get up, which makes sense considering the sponsor of her afterparty.

Paige catches sight of her, her grin widening, and the circle of people surrounding her join in on cheering for Cam as she’s gently pulled to the middle, towards Paige. Cam flushes under the attention and rolls her eyes – although she’s secretly pleased by the reception. “You made it!” Paige calls over the bass, offering her a shot glass. Her expression is soft, not wanting to make an assumption about whether or not Cam drinks, but she accepts the shot glass anyways, clinking it against Paige’s with a teasing smile.

“Not sure if it beats staying in and binging whatever’s on the hotel TV, but I figured I should make sure my rookie doesn’t get too plastered,” Cam jokes.

“Your rookie, huh?” Paige hums, eyes wide and mischievous. “Didn’t know I was already claimed like that.”

“You need someone responsible,” Cam retorts. “Rike and Lyss are bad influences. Nai would dress you up like a Labubu.”

Paige laughs, and she and Cam throw back their first shot of the night – well, Cam can’t be too sure if it’s Paige’s first, but that’s neither here nor there. Paige takes her empty glass, sets it on the tray, then wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her flush against her body. Yeah, Cam thinks, definitely not Paige’s first shot, but she’s smiling in amusement as Paige calls for the attention of their little circle.

“Everyone, this is Camille,” she states. Then, glancing once at Cam, the hint of a smirk tugs at her lips. “My vet. Her drinks are on me, aight? No funny shit.”

“I think the drinks are on Nike–” someone attempts to say, but Paige raises her hand, cutting them off, and everyone around them laughs.

“Drinks on me,” Paige says again, just so there’s no confusion. She squeezes Cam’s shoulder as everyone dissipates. Her hand drops to the small of her back, guiding her through the room to the bar. “What you drinkin’?”

“Surprise me,” Cam responds. “I trust you. No whiskey or I’m gonna make your ass run suicides at camp.”

Paige grins, something like you think so little of me. She calls the bartender over and orders two Dirty Shirleys. Cam huffs under her breath, amused, and Paige nudges her with her elbow. “What happened to allat trust?”

Cam raises her hands in surrender. “No judgement here. I just respect the fact that you can stare a bartender in the eye and ask for juice.”

“Wow,” Paige drawls. “I see how it is. You buy a girl a drink and this is how she repays you.”

“You bought me a Capri Sun.”

Paige sniffs dramatically. “I always imagined I’d get my welcome to the league moment by running face first into an Alyssa Thomas screen. Never thought it’d come from being bullied by my own teammate.”

Cam laughs as the bartender slides their drinks over. “Are you always this much of a drama queen?” she asks playfully, tapping the sides of their glasses together.

Paige takes a long sip before she responds, her eyes slipping shut like this is the best thing she’s ever tasted. A smirk appears on her face as she says, with a shrug of her shoulder, “If the crown fits.”

Cam rolls her eyes, taking a tentative sip of her drink, too. And – okay. Maybe Paige was onto something, because it’s not that bad. Cam’s never been one for strong drinks, more of a lightweight than anything else. But these? They’re dangerous. Cam could easily see herself downing five of them without thinking about the alcohol content.

“Good, right?” Paige asks, not even bothering to hide her knowing grin.

“I don’t think you should worry about getting hit by an AT screen,” Cam states, which causes Paige’s brows to raise, unsure of where she’s going with that. “That big ass head of yours would just cushion the fall.”

Paige gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like Cam’s words have genuinely wounded her. “I’mma let that slide, Cam, just ‘cause I know you like me. I’m growing on you–”

“–like a fungus–”

“– and I’m your rookie,” she finishes. Cam can’t help but smile at that. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

Cam tilts her hat backwards, and Paige swats her hand away as it messes up her hair. “I’m toughening you up for the real world,” she teases. “Veteran duty.”

Paige raises a lazy brow, something reminiscent of a challenge in her eyes. “So this is business?”

“Isn’t it always?” Cam retorts.

A slow smile spreads across Paige’s lips. “Aight.” Paige has a determined look in her eyes, one that Cam’s not quite sure she’s familiar with. But she doesn’t have the time to question it before Paige’s hand finds the small of her back again, leading her through a crowd that parts easily for the both of them. “First song of the night’s all yours. Figure it out, then we’re dancing.”

“Bossy,” Cam mutters under her breath, not expecting Paige to catch it, but she does.

“I know what I want.”

Cam huffs, biting back a laugh. She leans in closer to the DJ, yelling over the music already playing, and he flashes her a sharp grin as he works on transitioning into the next song. She lets Paige guide her back towards the dance floor, but when the opening lines of “pushing P” reverberate throughout the room, the blonde turns to her with an amused look on her face.

“You think you’re funny?” Paige asks, but her smile is loose, welcoming Cam into her space. Her eyes are dark under the lighting in the room and the low brim of her hat. “Or you tryna tell me somethin’?”

“Can’t tell you anything if you keep running your mouth, right?” Cam says.

Paige only nods, taking another sip from her drink, and the look in her eye makes Cam think that she’s just started something that she’s not sure how to finish. Between the atmosphere in the room, the taste of the drink on her lips, and the way Paige is embracing the party, Cam doesn’t think that she does want to finish it.

It’s easy to get lost in the music, in the heady scent of adrenaline, liquor, and victory in the air, in the way Paige leaves just enough space in between their bodies to make it look like she doesn’t want this. But Cam knows. It should be enough to make her back away, to make her remember that she’s the veteran and Paige just got drafted to her team less than three hours ago.

Cam has spent so long restraining herself, trying to be perfect in so many senses of the word. The perfect daughter, the perfect teammate, someone who maintains order instead of welcoming chaos. That lifestyle was safe. Comfortable. Secure. Stale. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a party. Nothing wrong with celebrating a rookie who’s worked so hard to even be here in the first place.

For the first night in a long, long time, Camille isn’t really thinking, certainly not about things like the consequences of her own actions. She’s thinking about how much fun she’s having, even if it means accidentally monopolizing Paige’s attention. She’s thinking about how good her drink tastes, and when she goes back for her fourth of the night, she orders a second one, too, bringing it back to Paige, who’s sporting a pretty flush under the dim lighting in the room. She’s thinking about how promising this next season is, about the fact that they could genuinely go so far.

One dance turns into multiple. The drinks are flowing, the vibes are high, and she can feel the music in her veins. She can feel Paige’s eyes on her when she gets overheated, shrugging out of her bomber jacket.

Cam is loose, the liquor flowing pleasantly through her body, and when the night begins to wind down and Paige’s hand is settling over her back again, murmuring something about heading back to her room, Cam agrees – because why wouldn’t she? She’s warm all over, not from the alcohol, and she’s drunk and giggly when she slips her hand into Paige’s, their thighs pressed tightly together in the Uber.

It feels good – that’s really all she’s thinking about right now. And when Paige leads her into her room, her palm burning hot over her waist, Cam lets her pull her in, her lips dragging across her skin.

Things like consequences or repercussions are a tomorrow morning thing. Right now – all Cam is concerned about is whether or not her rookie is as good with her mouth as she is at running it.

Cam wakes to her alarm. She doesn’t need to see the time to know it’s freakishly early in the morning. She can feel it in her bones, in the way the exhaustion sticks to her like glue, the way she feels as though she’s only had her eyes closed for twenty minutes rather than the full eight hours of sleep she’s accustomed to. Her hand reaches out to where she’s sure her nightstand is, but she meets air. She fumbles through the sheets, sure that her phone is simply lost somewhere, but she comes up empty, there, too.

It’s not until she registers the warmth of a body against hers that she realizes how badly she’s just fucked up.

Paige Bueckers, eyes shut peacefully, flush on her neck, arm slung lazily across Cam’s bare waist – bare waist! – groans into her shoulder. “Turn it off,” she grumbles, breath fanning across skin. Cam freezes, feeling her heart begin to race and her mind spin.

She’s so overstimulated that she could probably scream. Paige’s legs are tangled with hers, the warmth of body lulling her into a sense of peace, but anxiety swirls in her gut and her alarm is still fucking ringing.

“Fuck,” she whimpers out loud, pushing both of her palms to her eyes.

This was not how the draft was supposed to go. She was supposed to be there to say hello to Paige and Aziaha and Madison and JJ. She was going to do some media segments, solidify her title as the Rookie Welcome Officer, and then she was going to take her ass back to her hotel room, take a hot shower and unwind.

Camille was not supposed to get herself invited to Paige’s afterparty, let alone go to it in the first place. She wasn’t supposed to take shots with her, drink with her, dance with her (although as the previous night’s memories come back to her, she’s certain there was some dancing on her – okay, yeah, not the time or the place to get caught up in that).

Most importantly, Camille wasn’t supposed to fall into bed with her either. That’s kind of the reason why alarm bells are ringing in her brain, and it has nothing to do with the 5am alarm she’d actually set on her phone so she can catch a flight.

She just slept with Paige Bueckers. Number one overall draft pick, twenty-three year old rookie to Cam’s twenty-six year old senior, Paige Bueckers. The Wings’ newest starting point guard. Her rookie, who she’d claimed the moment Cathy Engelbert spoke her name into the microphone. Cam was supposed to mentor her, guide her, help her adjust to professional life so soon after the end of her college season. Camille was not supposed to let her stick her hand down her pants.

She’s so unbelievably fucked. Sure, she resigned, but she could still get waived. This could have detrimental effects on the locker room. Detrimental effects on whatever beginnings of a friendship that she and Paige were supposed to be forming in the middle of sticking their tongues down each other’s throat. Cam was so excited for the beginning of the season, but now, all she can think about is the fact that she’s probably ruined it before Paige even put her jersey on for the first time.

Paige murmurs something under her breath again. Cam, already in full panic mode, pushes the blonde off of her, sending her sprawling onto the other side of the bed as she rises to her feet. “The fuck?” Paige mutters, undoubtedly bothered as she fights for consciousness.

Cam has to fight a wave of vertigo as she scans the floor for her pants, where her alarm is still ringing. Finally locating them, she rips her phone out of her pocket and silences her phone. Slowly, she turns back to the bed, where Paige is staring at her with wide eyes, the blanket pulled up to her chest. “Oh,” she whispers, some sort of clarity returning to her expression.

Oh is right. Because both she and Paige just did something that Cam isn’t entirely sure they can come back from, and they have no one to blame but themselves.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #dallas wings #wnba #paige bueckers x reader

341 notes · View notes

chososcamgirl · 14 days ago

Text

THIRD TIMES THE CHARM CHAPTER ONE: juna

masterlist

• cw; crude humour, swearing, kys jokes, suggestive

get charmed!

• toji told shiu he would bet $10 he couldnt do a backflip (he couldnt & landed on his neck and in the er for 2 hours)

• utahime & shoko fwb????? possibly ?????

• yn constantly blocks satoru but shiu goes on her twitter account (that she stupidly logged into his phone and he never logged herbout) and unblocks him

• yn berating satoru on twitter is peak entertainment for him

• haibara went to visit his grandma ar rhe age car and got forced into an intense game of monopoly with one of the older ladies (sue-ann) and lost all his property (and money)

• toji got followed by a car for 3 hours straight one time but found out it was the fucking google maps car hence the tweet

• satorus 67th attempt at trying to make yn fall in love with him (horrible if i say so myself)

• library interaction went like this: 😐 <- yn ☺️😁😛🗣️😅😟👋 <- gojo

• i wonder what satoru’s next attempt will be….

• kinda an introductory chapter, theres still so much more i have to set in place for everything to make sense !!

a/n: im going to. cry. i love u guys so much. thank u for the love on the series so far!!! got busy and delayed this chapter but chapter 2 will b posted after i finish work tmr :) (hopefully around 6pm aest) i hope im still funny in ur guys heads💔

taglist: @nappingnai @renbittt @s6rine @shokosbunny @agzio180 @mia-can-yap-too @poopooindamouf @itsdragonius @ch3rry-lips @miiyas @sttaejoon-blog @hellovanie @fushiguroooozzz @evilari111 @literallyushiwaka @katsukigetsmewetter @taefanclub @veecynii @angeltoruu @vitoshi @usbrous @sexylexy12

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

174 notes · View notes

dailynnt · 2 months ago

Text

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 12/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: Hi guys ❤️‍🔥 I wrote part 12 for you 💗 I soooo wanted to post it earlier, but I didn't manage 💔 But it's ready today! So what do you think? I'm a little nervous because I'm still not satisfied with my writing 😣 Give me a few words so I know what you think 🥺

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97, @taeloversblog, @songbyeonkim, @miniruuu, @hubbytaehyung, @queen1599, @goldenboysmuse , @nikkinikj, @kookiesncreamri, @guwol, @unholyforjk, @hisdecalcomania17 (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 12. The first date

You walked into the apartment, feeling your heart pounding. You still have the taste of his kiss on your lips. You want to scold yourself for letting him do whatever he wants so easily. But yesterday, after the meeting with your mother, you were broken. The moment when he stood up for you, put his chest to your crying, opened up a different side of Jungkook for you. He no longer seemed like the arrogant, self-absorbed neighbor who did nothing but piss you off. Yesterday, you saw him as a man of great strength and backbone. He consoled you so carefully that your heart ached, and the walls of defense you had erected against him cracked and crumbled.

You had long ago recognized that you were physically attracted to Jungkook, but not morally, but yesterday everything changed. When he hugged you in bed, you realized that you needed him. In that moment, you needed him, and the sex that followed almost drove you crazy, because it felt completely different. Not as something you would regret, but as something you needed.

You're afraid you're going to fall in love with Jungkook, because it turns out he's not only good at fucking you, but he's also tender with you, and that's the most dangerous thing. You notice that he wants to touch you all the time. And when he does, you feel something strange. Like you're getting an electric shock, or a wave of heat goes through your body.

He behaves as if you belong to him, and it started with that night, which was the price for his service. Since then, he thinks he can have you whenever he wants and however he wants. And the worst part is that you want him to. No matter how hard you try to push him away or deny your relationship, you're here. You play the role of his girlfriend and you fuck whenever you want. And you want to do it a lot.

Your head is boiling from the flow of thoughts in your head, how to behave properly, how not to fall in love with him, how to learn to react to him more calmly? You didn't know the answers to all these questions. You exhaled a big sigh, dropping your things and walking inside the apartment. Maybe you should let things go? Let it happen? But won't you regret it when the deal comes to an end? Won't it be hard for you to continue living next door to Jungkook without feeling anything for him? You're afraid it will. Because even when he's not around, you subconsciously want him to be.

Why? Because yesterday you felt protected by him? But didn't you feel the need for his presence before the situation with your mother?

You are playing with fire, which can not only burn you, so it will hurt, it can burn you, destroy you. You will try to keep your cool, and maybe then Jungkook will turn away from you.

You put your things away and decided to take a bath, as the trip from Busan had exhausted you.

You barely talked to Jungkook on the way home because his phone just wouldn't stop ringing. It was because he wasn't in the office on a weekday, and there were many things that needed his attention. You were secretly watching how he conducted business, how he talked, and how he made decisions. You could tell that he was very good at what he did. He is a worthy heir to a large company and will be a great CEO when his time comes.

So, to get rid of your tiredness, you wanted to lie in the bathtub, which was perfect for relaxing your body.

You filled up the tub with warm water, added lavender-scented salt, and lathered up. You undressed and climbed into the tub. The water enveloped your body, swallowing you up like a cocoon. The smell of lavender filled your nostrils, and the warm water made you almost purr with pleasure. You closed your eyes and listened to the melody you had turned on your phone, completely immersing yourself in a relaxed atmosphere.

At first you lay there almost motionless, then you moved your arms a little under the water, stirring up small foamy waves. Your phone vibrated, your grandmother was calling. You picked up the phone, talked to her, told her that you had arrived quickly, and that Jungkook had gone to the office. Your grandmother didn't miss the chance to praise Jungkook once again and tell you how happy she was that you had him.

You listened to her with a pang in your heart. What will happen when she finds out that you're not seeing him anymore, when the agreement expires? She'll be upset, and she'll definitely be angry with Jungkook. What if she finds out that your relationship with him is fake? Will she be able to take that kind of blow? You shuddered at the thought.

You heard your grandmother calling you on the phone, because you had been thinking for too long. You said you were tired and wanted to rest. Grandma understood what you were saying and almost immediately afterwards, saying that she loved you and was grateful for everything you and Jungkook had done for her, she hung up.

You closed your eyes again, enjoying your bath, trying not to think about Jungkook, but it was not working. Moments from the morning and the past times you'd been together with him kept flashing through your mind. Your insides felt like they were being mixed a spoon when you involuntarily remembered how he entered you, what words he whispered to you. How he made you feel the best orgasm that no one before him had ever given you. You ran up to your feet, and your knees immediately touched the air, which was cool against the water.

You opened your eyes and looked at your feet. How do you stop thinking about him? But just as you were about to do so, his name appeared on your phone screen. Your heart lurched somewhere in your throat, but you ignored it and picked up the phone without wasting any time.

"Hello," you answered the call, trying to keep your tone even.

"Is the kitten busy?" you heard Jungkook's voice say. He sounded soft and playful. You immediately realized that he was calling for a reason. You had just seen him twenty minutes ago. He had a lot to do, which meant he was calling with a specific purpose.

"I'm taking a bath, what do you want?" you asked, sharper than you meant to.

"Oh... if I can video call you?" Jungkook asked. And his low voice made your body react in a way you didn't want it to. A subtle throbbing started between your legs. If you were really a couple, you'd let him call and make him wish he was around. But you won't give him that privilege because your relationship is fake. You clicked your tongue in irritation.

"Jungkook, say what you want or I'm hanging up," you warned, forcing him to get to the point of the call. You sat down, wrapping your arms around your knees.

"You shouldn't have said no, but I'm calling for a reason. Kitten, take a bath, put on something nice. In 15 minutes my manager will come to pick you up, I need you in the office."

You froze, trying to understand what Jungkook had just said.

"You mean in the office? Why?" you wondered.

"I'll explain when you get there," you heard him say. You were not satisfied with this answer. You really felt exhausted and had no desire to go anywhere else.

"We just got here, Jungkook, I'm tired after the trip, can I come tomorrow?" you asked, protesting but hoping that he didn't have a serious reason for your visit.

"No kitten, you need to be here in exactly half an hour." he replied in a tone that didn't accept objections. You exhaled a doomed breath, you saw no point in arguing with them, seemed like it had some to do with the deal, but he didn’t say it right away. And it was pissing you off.

"What should I wear?" you asked, trying to figure out what he needed you for in the office. And to avoid another argument over your appearance.

"Dress like we're going on a date," Jungkook told you. A date? He wants you to go on a date?

"I usually wear a t-shirt and jeans, is that okay?" your voice was filled with irony.

"If you feel comfortable wearing those clothes to an expensive restaurant, then sure, you can dress like a kitten," Jungkook replied. You heard him smile slightly. You exhaled nervously into the phone again. Of course, if this is a date with Jungkook, it will be an expensive restaurant and definitely media attention. So you need to dress nice and expensive.

"Okay, I'll be ready in 15 minutes." you promised.

"I'm waiting for you," he said happily.

You were the first to hang up and groaned, throwing the phone on the table. You wanted to rest so badly, but Jungkook had already ruined your plans with his "fake date."

At the entrance, right in front of the front door, you spotted a black car waiting for you. Spotlessly clean, with tinted windows, it looked luxurious. Jungkook's manager, a serious man who didn't seem to know how his face muscles worked, stood by the car. As soon as you approached, he bowed slightly, greeted you, introduced himself as Manager Lee Ji-hyun, and opened the back door for you.

You greeted back and got inside, carefully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Inside, there was a subtle scent of leather and expensive perfume. Manager Lee silently took the driver's seat and drove off without another word.

You drove in silence for a while. You were checking your phone, and for some reason you were nervous at the thought of visiting Jungkook's office and after that going on a date afterwards.

The car drove smoothly onto the main road, the manager was silent. He certainly didn't have to entertain you, but his silence weighed on your shoulders. To break the silence, you tried to find out why you had to go to the Jungkook.

"Excuse me," you said, "Do you know why I need to go to Jungkook's office urgently..." in the rearview mirror, you met Manager Lee's attentive gaze. And thinking that you had called Chunguk informally, you quickly added, "Jungkook-nim?"

"Jungkook-nim will personally explain everything to you," he replied politely, without adding anything else.

You sighed slightly and leaned back. You stopped talking to him. Manager Lee seemed like a man who would not disobey an order even under pressure.

Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up smoothly to the huge ‘Jeon Group’ building. It looked like a glass tower that almost reached the clouds. It looked like dozens of similarly successful companies, but for some reason it seemed special. It was typical, but it stood out from the crowd.

Manager Lee silently drove into the underground parking lot, deftly maneuvering among the expensive cars. As soon as you parked, he got out, walked around the car, and gave you a short nod, inviting you to follow him.

You hurried after him across the large gray parking lot to the elevator. He pressed a special button, and a few seconds later the doors opened in front of you. The elevator was spacious, with mirrored walls and golden panels on the sides. You felt a little dizzy-not only because of the height you were going up, but also because of the tension inside you.

You did not meet a single person. It was obvious that this was a private elevator used only by executives. Your pulse was racing with each floor you passed. When the doors finally opened, you were greeted by a spacious reception area, elegant and restrained in gray and white.

Behind the desk sat the receptionist, a young woman with perfect hair and a professional smile. When she saw you, she raised her eyebrows in interest and greeted you warmly, quickly looking you up and down. Manager Lee informed the secretary that you were here to see CEO Jeon Jungkook on a personal matter.

You politely greeted her back, a little embarrassed to see her studying you. The manager did not linger in the reception area, he hurried to Jungkook’s office and you intuitively followed him. The manager was the first to enter, announcing that you had arrived.

"Jungkook-nim, Y/N has arrived," you heard him officially announce.

You held your breath as you followed him into the office. You stepped inside, and your fingers involuntarily tightened on the strap of your purse. You tried to act confident.

Jungkook's gaze, which looked up from the tablet, burned you instantly. His fingers froze over the screen. His eyes...

They swallowed you whole, as if you were the only person in this entire huge office.

You nervously brushed your hair behind your ear, feeling the cream dress cling to your skin. It fit you perfectly, you knew that, but now you felt naked under his gaze.

You watched him stand up. How he took a step toward you, and you had to use an effort of will to keep yourself from stepping back. You wanted to look calm. But inside, everything was turning upside down. You didn't understand why you were reacting to him like that. Why he suddenly caused your heart to race.

You noticed Jungkook's jaw tense slightly as he slowly looked you up and down. His eyes were dark, sparkling... almost dangerous.

"Manager Lee, thank you for bringing me the Y/N. You can go now," his voice was low, vibrating, and you tried your best not to react to it.

You couldn't see, but you guessed that Manager Lee nodded and bowed. The barely audible rustle of his suit gave him away. He left and you were left with the two of you. There was a silence in the air, and you wanted to break it as soon as possible so that it wouldn't press on your ears.

"You asked me to look like we were going on a date," you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice was a little strained. You looked away, took a few steps to the side, as if you were curious to see his office. "Do I look appropriate?" I threw over my shoulder, touching my fingers to the golden rabbit statue on his desk.

There was no response. You felt his gaze on you and it literally burned you.

He came even closer, and his voice finally sounded hoarse.

"You look... dangerously appropriate." the next moment his arms slid around your waist. You felt the strength of his palms as he held you close. Your heart was beating wildly. You were frozen in place, as if you were paralyzed.

His face leaned down to your shoulder, and you felt his nose touch your skin. He inhaled your scent deeply. The sweet smell of apricots that you had chosen for yourself today seemed to appeal to him.

"Jungkook..." You whispered nervously, grabbing his hands, trying to push him away, to stop him. You were in his office, and anyone could walk in, because door was unlocked. "What are you doing? What if someone comes in?"

The answer was a kiss on the earlobe. A light bite that almost made your knees buckle.

"That's my plan..." he murmured low, his lips burning against your skin.

You turned your head, forcing yourself to keep your distance, even though his proximity was driving you crazy. Your brain was boiling.

"What do you mean?" you whispered, trying to figure out what exactly this plan was. His eyes slid to your lips, staying there long enough for you to know for sure that he wanted to kiss you.

"My mother should be here soon with Sukhi," his voice sounded almost weightless. "They wanted to pick me up to have dinner with them. But I'm busy. I'm going on a date with my girlfriend."

You were instantly filled with anger. You opened your eyes wide.

"You do it again, Jeon!" you exploded, instinctively pulling away. His hands reluctantly dropped. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place that your mother would be here?!" you crossed your arms over your chest, feeling anger and anxiety mixing inside you. You weren't ready to meet his mother at all. Not so soon. "I should to known, Jungkook! I could have at least prepared myself mentally!". Again, he confronted you with a fact.

Jungkook looked at you calmly. As calmly as if this were a completely normal situation. His eyes were sparkling. There was something... unstoppable in them.

"I knew you would react this way," he said, moving toward you.

"You knew and you are deliberately doing this to spite me?" you asked colorlessly. And then it all happened too fast. Jungkook grabbed you by the waist and pushed you against the table with a sharp movement. You gasped, and before you knew it, you felt a hard surface beneath you.

He lifted you to the edge of the table, standing between your legs, holding you tightly by the hips. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath.

"You don't have to worry, kitten," he purred, his gaze darkened, stirring desire in you. "I'm just going to show you to your mother. It won't take more than a minute. And then we'll go..."

"I don't..." you began, but your words were lost in his sudden, passionate kiss. Jungkook's lips covered yours, leaving you no chance to escape.

You felt his arms holding you even tighter, his lips demanding more than you were ready to give. You were overcome with frenzy-sweet, intoxicating, disturbing. You felt moisture instantly soaking your underwear.

You had been in his office. You couldn't do it here. But Jungkook's touch made you forget everything but your unrestrained desire.

While enjoying Jungkook's kiss, you didn't immediately hear the office door open.

"Jungkook-ah, son..." a cold female voice said. Your heart sank to your heels. Jungkook slowly pulled away from your lips, but his arms still held you.

You could feel his chest heaving with his breath. Jungkook turned his head, and you saw them.

His mother.

And Sukhi.

They were standing in the doorway, their eyes on you.

You can't even imagine how horrible it looked in their eyes. You are sitting on the table. Jungkook is standing between your legs with his hands on your hips.

You were ready to fall through the ground. And you definitely wanted to kill Jungkook right now.

Your anger knew no bounds. You turned away from Jungkook, who was driving and didn't seem to feel any guilt at all. The music in the Mercedes was playing, trying unsuccessfully to muffle the loud silence between you. The scene you had experienced ten minutes ago flashed in your mind over and over again.

You abruptly jumped off the table, pushing Jungkook away. Your face was flushed red and your hands were shaking. Jungkook didn't take a step back. He just turned lazily towards the guests, and a half-smile appeared on his face, the same self-confident and impudent one that made you lose your temper every time.

"Mom," he greeted calmly, not even trying to hide his impudence. "Sukhi."

You were ready to break through the ground, you wanted to disappear. You had never felt so terrible. You looked down, thinking of the most horrible way to kill Jungkook.

Jungkook's mother looked at you sternly, her gaze icy and hard, but you didn't see it. Sukhi looked hurt and upset at first, and then a smile appeared on her face, a gloating, subtle smile. And Jungkook didn't like it, her first reaction was better suited to the situation.

"I see you're very... busy," Jungkook's mother said with icy restraint. "But Manager Lee assured me that you're free tonight."

"Yeah, mom, already a bit busy," Jungkook said without shame, putting his hand on your waist. You glared at him, wanting to slap him. "But never mind . Y/N and I were going to leave."

"Y/N..." Jungkook's mother repeated your name. Your insides clenched. You heard the soft click of her heels and unconsciously held your breath. She stopped a few steps away. "Is this the same girl that the journalists recently wrote about?" she asked, as if driving a knife into your body with every word.

Jungkook's mother looked at you, and you could almost physically feel her gaze.

"Yes, mom, it's her." you heard Sukhi’s voice. "Jungkook introduced me to her at the after-party for the opening of the ‘Vante Maison’ boutique."

His mother didn't react to Sukhi’s words. There was a moment of silence, and then Jungkook's mother said.

"Son, I understand why you're playing with this girl. She's really pretty, but you know... you need to end it. Tell Manager Lee to order a taxi for her and let's go have dinner with your future fiancée..." Jungkook's mother didn't have time to finish her sentence because he interrupted her.

"Mom…" his voice was steady, but the irritation in it was unmistakable. "I don’t have a fiancée. What I have is this girl — and I’m not playing games with her, I’m dating her. And right now, I’m taking her on a date, so I won’t be able to go with you."

He said each word slowly, clearly, as if to finally make it sink in — for both his mother and Suhee: he wasn’t playing by their rules.

Jungkook grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the office exit. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You felt Jungkook touch your thigh. Holding back your anger, you looked at his hand on your skin, and then slowly looked up at him. He glared at you, but quickly turned back to the road.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" he said quietly, with a guilty, almost boyish smile.

"Angry?" you stared at his profile, barely restraining the urge to hit him, "Why would I be angry, huh, Jeon? Because your mother looked at me as if I were a cheap accessory to be disposed of as soon as possible?"

"Do you care about my mother's opinion?" Jungkook suddenly asked, squeezing your thigh lightly. You raised your eyebrows, not understanding what he was getting at.

"No. But..." you trailed off, catching yourself thinking that you were really upset that his mother didn't accept you.

"She wouldn't to approve you even if you weren't my fake girlfriend. She wants me to marry Sukhi. So don't take her behavior into account," Jungkook reassured you.

Those words hit you like a cold shower. Yes, you are not Jungkook's real girlfriend. It made sense that his mother didn’t welcome you with open arms on the doorstep — youwere just an obstacle in her family's big plans. You turned away. Why do you feel humiliated by this situation?

"Just warn me about your damned antics next time. I'm tired of improvise," you grunted, hiding your emotions behind your irritation.

"Okay," he replied seriously. "Next time I'll tell you right away. Although," his lips slipped into a half-smile, "you're not bad at improvising, today, for example, you were so good to keep silence."

"Gosh, just shut up," you couldn't stand his insolence. You pushed his hand away, and Jungkook didn't like it. He gave a sideways glare at you. You sat with your arms crossed and looked straight ahead. Your eyebrows remained furrowed in displeasure.

A few minutes later, you pulled up to the restaurant. Jungkook parked the car. You was looking at the expensive place and only now did it dawn on you that you had come here for a fake first date.

"Umgg.." you squeezed out. Now you felt sadness mixed with irritation, but you'd have to smile and act like Jungkook's happy girl. He turned to you.

"If you don't want to go inside, I can take you home," he offered. You could hear the tension in his voice. He didn't seem to like your mood, but whose fault was that?

You asked him without turning your head.

"Can I really refuse? Or is it your voluntary and forced choice again?" you said sarcastically. Jungkook nervously leaned back in his car seat, his posture relaxed, though his eyes said he wasn't in the mood to play right now.

"Do you want to refuse?" he asked in a serious tone that sent a chill down your spine. You finally turned your face to him.

"Yes, I do, I don't want to play your lucky pleasure toy," you said. Jungkook moved forward sharply, and in a matter of seconds he closed the distance between you. He leaned on the armrest and looked at you with a piercing gaze.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a low voice that made your pulse quicken. You glanced at his lips in betrayal and then quickly returned to his eyes. It was no more than a second, but Jungkook caught it. He was attentive to every detail about you.

"Yes," you said firmly, without any hesitation. "Take me home. I don't want to go on a date with you." Jungkook was angry. He didn't look away. His jaw tensed, and a fire flashed in his eyes that you'd seen before, the one that appeared when he wasn't going to give in.

And then, unexpectedly, he leaned in even closer, so close that your breath hitched.

"It's a pity you don't want to. Because I've already decided that you're staying," his voice sounded dull, low, dangerous. His hand took you sharply, but not roughly, by the chin, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. You grabbed his hand and threw it away.

"You offered to drive me if I didn't want to go. I don't want to," you repeated again. "And don't grab me like that. I'm not your property..." you said, your voice trembling with anger.

Jungkook froze for a moment. His lips were pressed into a thin line. Then he silently unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. You followed his figure with your eyes, realizing that he was walking to your door. He opened it and leaned towards you. You stared in surprise at his face, which was close. He also released your body from the seatbelt, and before you could get a word in edgewise, he grabbed your arm and pulled you outside. Jungkook closed the car door and pushed you against it. His strong body pressed against yours felt good. Jungkook almost kissed you, keeping his lips within touching distance.

"Am I so unpleasant to you that you refuse to go out with me?" he asked, purring against your lips. You watched his lips move in awe. The way the piercing on his lower lip glistened.

"No..." you said the truth, mesmerized by his closeness, "it's just that my mood has gone to hell," you said quietly, holding his elbows.

"I can lift it very easily, you know that..." he whispered, touching your cheek with his nose. He was driving you crazy with his actions. Your heart melted and you couldn't be angry with him anymore. "Where should I lift it up for you in the car, or in the restaurant's restroom?" he asked playfully. He looked at you, and his eyes were full of undisguised desire.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a slight wave of excitement run through your body. You glanced behind him. There were a lot of people near the restaurant and in the restaurant itself. You didn't see anyone looking at you, but it was definitely was.

"Jungkook," you tried to increase the distance between your faces, "there are a lot of people here..."

Jungkook looked into your eyes and smiled, pleased that you were reacting more calmly.

"It’s not just crowded here — there are also journalists who would be thrilled to write yet another article about our relationship." he said, kissing you lightly on the corner of your mouth. You instinctively closed your eyes, and when you realized he wasn't going to continue, you opened them.

"Did you take care of it? I think I will get a new portions hateful comments. Some people wrote that you have a taste problem." you said, smiling slightly. You remembered one of the comments under those articles where you were first called Jungkook's mistress. And that comment was not the most offensive.

"They must have a problem with their eyesight if they think I have no taste," Jungkook said irritably, his eyebrows furrowing. You bit your lips to hide the smile provoked by Jungkook's response.

"Maybe you have really bad taste?" you joked, "come on, I can tell you that if you tell me your ideal type."

"You" Jungkook answered immediately. The smile that had been frozen on your face slipped away. You felt something invisible squeezing your chest.

"Me?" you couldn't believe your ears. This can't be happening. He's just trying to play on your feelings. He's manipulating you to stop being angry with him.

"You heard me, kitten. You're my perfect type of girl," Jungkook assured you. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand. He stroked it lightly, savoring your confusion, "But your temper is a nightmare," he smiled slyly. He's a master at ruining a good moment.

"Idiot..." you said quietly, turning your head away. Jungkook laughed heartily. You were outraged by what he said about your character, because you thought you were a person of good character. Jungkook squeezed you tighter in his arms and leaned over, touching your forehead.

"But I have to admit that your character is a real challenge for me, and I love challenges."

You sighed, trying not to give in to the emotions he was stirring up in you. His closeness was intoxicating. His words were irritatingly pleasant. But you couldn't afford to lose control again.

"Let's go, I'm hungry." you ignored his words, hiding the real emotions.

"Yes, kitten, we'll go, but first, a convincing gesture that we're a couple," Jungkook said, and the next moment he touched your lips. His tongue unceremoniously burst into your mouth, demonstrating his superiority.

You felt your heart clench sharply. Jungkook was so confident that even his kiss seemed dominant, but there was no violence in it, only a deafening, slightly unbridled heat. You couldn't just pull away, even though you knew it would hurt your control. He seemed to know exactly how to exploit all your weaknesses.

You responded to him, trying to control yourself, but his bent body, his heat permeating every cell of your skin, made it difficult. When the kiss broke, you did your best not to look too confused.

"Now let's go, Jin will feed you the most delicious food in Seoul," Jungkook said as he intertwined your fingers. So this luxurious restaurant, ‘Nocturne’, belongs to Jin. The guy you met at the afterparty.

The entrance to the restaurant was luxurious. The warm light inside created a cozy atmosphere The interior was decorated in delicate pastel colors, dominated by shades of pink - from muted powdery to deeper, rich colors.

The walls were covered with soft light panels with textured plaster, and abstract paintings in a pink gradient hung between them. The silky tablecloths reflected the light, and each table had a small vase of peonies and tea roses.

The hostess - a tall, slender girl in a stylish black dress with a pale pink belt - came to you almost instantly as soon as you crossed the threshold. Her face lit up when she saw Jungkook.

"Jungkook-nim," she bowed slightly, smiling. "It's good to see you again. It's been a while." It was obvious that he was a frequent visitor here, and it was not surprising, since it was his friend's restaurant. The hostess gave you a brief, attentive glance, after which her smile became even warmer, but with a touch of professional politeness. "Please, let me show you to the best table."

She led you past several tables set up near tall windows, behind which the lights of the evening city shimmered slightly, and to a table in a secluded corner of the room, a little away from the other guests. The table was covered with a pink tablecloth, and napkins with the restaurant's embroidered initials were already waiting for them.

"Your waiter will be with you in a moment," the hostess said and politely left.

You looked around. Less than a minute later, a young waiter approached you with a tablet in his hands. He was a little nervous when he met Jungkook's eyes and quickly bowed.

"Good evening. My name is Jihoon, and I'll be serving you tonight. What would you like to order?"

"Can you have Kim Seokjin serve me and my girlfriend the best romantic dinner possible?" Jungkook replied calmly, not needing a menu. The young man became even more nervous, but smiled as he bowed.

"I will pass on your request to our chef. Do you have any special requests for drinks?"

"No, Jihoon, no need for additional drinks. Just serve what will be best for this dinner," Jungkook said, his voice low and calm, as if he controlled every movement in the space.

The waiter nodded and, with another quick bow, quickly left.

You glanced around the room and noticed that there were a lot of people in the restaurant. You looked around the interior for a moment longer, and then turned your head to Jungkook, and he was already looking at you, with a mysterious smile on his lips.

"What?" you asked, reservedly.

"Nothing... I just thought I've never brought a girl here before. You're the first."

You arched an eyebrow, not believing what he was saying.

"Why didn't you bring a girl here? Were you afraid Jin would see how many of them were?" you scoffed.

"Not for that reason. He already knows how many there were. And it's not dozens, as you think." Jungkook replied, putting his hands on the table and locking them. You still didn't believe him.

"Then what's the reason?" you asked sincerely. He shrugged and then looked away, sliding his gaze across the hall.

"Probably because this place is special to me. It's connected to the real me. With my best friend. I didn't want to share something so personal with someone else."

Jungkook's words impressed you. You felt special and you couldn't help but like it. The fact that he had shared something personal with you caused a warm wave in your chest. But the part of you that was used to not trusting him made itself known.

"Why did you want to share with me?" you asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Because I learned something about you yesterday, and it wouldn't be fair of me if I didn't do the same," he answered, smiling slightly. You looked at him for a long few seconds. You understood perfectly well what he was talking about. Jungkook recognized your personal trauma related to your mother, and he wanted to share something personal with you as well. For example, he wanted to take you to a special place for him, where no one from his circle except his friends ever goes.

You didn't know what to say, because you were pleasantly surprised by his behavior, which was new to you. Jungkook was becoming more and more unlike the Jungkook you knew as a neighbor.

You were saved from the awkwardness that arose between you by Jin, the chef of this luxurious restaurant, who was rapidly approaching your table. You noticed him first, and smiled at his cheerful mood. Jungkook noticed your gaze shift and turned around.

"Did you really bring your girlfriend to my restaurant?" asked Jin, smiling and opening his arms to hug his friend. Jungkook stood up and for some reason you stood up too. They hugged each other like family.

"Yes, Jin-hyun. I thought she should know who cooks the best food in Seoul," Jungkook said as he let go of Jin. Jin bowed slightly to you, and you bowed back.

"It's good to see you, Y/N. Now I can definitely see that Jungkook-ah is serious about you," he leaned in, pressing his hands to his lips as if he wanted to share a secret, but he said it so Jungkook could hear it, "he's never brought a girl here, he's not the dating type."

You smiled sweetly, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

"I'm really glad that Jungkook brought me to you, Jin-shi. and wants to go a date with me. It makes me feel special," you lied, you turned your gaze to Jungkook and met his attentive gaze. You could barely stop yourself from raising your eyebrows in surprise. He looked at you almost without blinking, with a mesmerized gaze. Your heart skipped a beat, why was he staring like that?

"It would be my honor to prepare a romantic dinner for you. I will choose the best dishes and won't keep you waiting long. I hope you enjoy it," Jin said sincerely. He put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder, pulling him away from you.

"We sure will," Jungkook said.

Jin went to the kitchen, and right after he left, a waiter brought you a white semi-sweet wine. He poured you two glasses and wished you a pleasant evening and left. Jungkook grabbed a glass and you followed suit.

"Cheers to us," Jungkook suggested. You smiled tensely.

"To our deal. For it to work," you added. Jungkook nodded and the sound of glass diluted the noise around you. You took a few sips and the flavor of the grapes blossomed on your tongue. You noticed that Jungkook was staring at you and tried to act calm. But it wasn't working out well. You were nervous about his piercing gaze today.

"Relax, kitten, you look so tense, it's just dinner," Jungkook suddenly said as he put his glass on the table. He noticed your tense state and you didn't like it. You need to control your body language better. You really need to relax, but Jungkook is the direct cause of your tension. His behavior makes your heart beat faster, and it makes you feel strange.

"I'd be more relaxed if you weren't eating me up with your eyes," you said as casually as you could. You took another sip of wine, instinctively hiding behind the glass.

Jungkook laughed, his eyes still on you, a soft laugh with a hint of amusement. You realized that he was really enjoying the fact that he could embarrass you so much. He dodged a direct answer, but you saw his lips turn up slightly at the corners.

"I'm not eating you. I'm just... admiring," he said, almost a whisper, and his gaze softened, but it made you lose control even more "It's hard to look away when looking at a woman like that."

Your cheeks lit up, and you instantly looked away. Was the wine starting to take effect, or was it him? It seems that today Jungkook decided to attack you with emotions, not words. And you were completely unprepared for it.

"Are you trying to throw compliments at me, hoping for something after dinner?" you asked ironically. He burst out laughing again.

"Doesn't a date end with sex after a romantic dinner?" he answered with a question, making his voice seductively playful. You hummed, unconsciously, pressing your thighs together. The thought of having sex with Jungkook after your fake date was already burning red in your head. You wonder to yourself how he can make you feel this uncontrollable desire. To be honest, you hope that this is how your evening will end, but you can't show it to him. There's no way Jungkook can find out that you want to have sex with him.

"Seems like all your dates end this way, huh? Hate to disappoint you, but for normal people — it doesn’t always go like this," you said sarcastically. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, looking surprised.

"Really? That's so boring," he said. You gave a short laugh.

"It's not boring," you argued. "Decent people don't have sex after the first date," you said indignantly. Jungkook was enjoying your conversation, his eyes burning with curiosity.

"You've never had sex on a first date?" he asked, smiling broadly, and sipped his wine. You raised your eyebrows.

"Never! I don't sleep with men I barely know," your answer made Jungkook's eyes light up. He leaned back in his chair and looked at you slyly, as if you had just told a lie.

"You hardly knew me either when we first had sex. But you slept with me anyway," he said, watching your reaction closely. You froze, not expecting such words.

"We've known each other for a long time..." you began uncertainly, trying to justify yourself, but Jungkook interrupted you. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"I..." you trailed off, swallowing your indecision along with the bitterness in your chest. "It was different. You wanted sex as payment for a favor, and... I was... in a very difficult position at the time."

Jungkook was listening intently, but he didn't seem satisfied with your explanation. He raised his eyebrows slightly and pursed his lips, as if to suggest that your answer was just an attempt to escape the truth.

"So you only agreed because you had no choice?" he asked quietly, but his voice was a mixture of resentment and curiosity. He wasn't angry, no. But you felt that he was waiting for something more. Maybe even sincerity.

"Um..." you really didn't know what to say. In fact, you agreed because you wanted to. If you hadn't been attracted to Jungkook, you wouldn't have even let him touch you. "Yes," you lied. You were afraid to tell him openly that you liked him. "You threatened to make my life in the neighborhood terrible." You remembered what he said.

Jungkook tilted his head. He couldn't believe that you didn't want him as much as he wanted you. From the first day you met him, he could feel the sexual tension between you and he knew, that you felt it too.

"And the other times?" he asked, "you also had no choice?"

You felt a heat run up your spine. You felt hot, and you wanted to end this topic as soon as possible.

"We actually talked about dating," you tried to change the subject. Jungkook smiled, he could see how nervous you were, and it made him feel hot.

Jungkook didn't look away. His smile became slow, almost lazy, and there was something predatory and alluring about it.

"Yes, we talked about dating..." he trailed off, as if savoring every word. His voice became low and deep, and you caught him trying to suppress a subtle laugh. "You're contradicting yourself. You assurer that you don't have sex with men at first date, because you don’t know his well, but you agreed to have sex with me, a man you barely knew," Jungkook summarized.

"You don't take into account the circumstances under which I agreed," you said, unhappy, clutching your glass involuntarily.

"No, you're just not the good girl you want to appear to be," Jungkook said, still smiling slyly. Your eyes widened in shock, indignation, and... anger. Who was he to make such a judgment about you?

Jungkook stood up, put his chair next to yours, and sat down, boldly and brazenly violating your personal space. As always, without asking permission. His knee touched yours. And you seemed to be frozen.

He leaned closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath sliding across your cheek. His voice was low, muffled, dangerously slow.

"You act like you're only interested in control, only in rules... But your eyes tell me more than you want to. You want to be exposed. To have your soul bared."

You held your breath.

His fingers touched your wrist. Gently. Barely. But it was enough to make your body tense.

"You're the kind of person who's afraid of their desires, but dreams of someone guessing them. For someone... to stop you from running away from yourself." His gaze did not let go. Warm, but commanding. Piercing. He slid his fingers down the outside of your thigh, over the fabric of your skirt, slowly, steadily, as if he were testing how far he could go without saying a word.

You gulped in a breath, your heart beating with double the force. His touch was light, but a wave was already rising inside you.

"Look at you," his voice was barely audible, almost a whisper, sliding over you like silk. "You're trembling because you want me to touch you..."

You tried to say something, but the words dissolved in his breath. He leaned in even closer and gently touched your lips-not with a kiss, but with a seduction.

"In fact, you love sex and are ready to sleep with a man on the first date if you like him. You're ready to suck his cock like any whore's can’t do, and let him have you completely and totally. You have a lot of hidden kinks that affect you and you don't mind exploring even more perversions if you're comfortable with your partner."

Jungkook's every word is like a blow to your solar plexus. You forget how to breathe. Your lips are slightly parted, and you see his eyes slide over them before meeting yours again. The look in Jungkook's eyes is one of confidence, of being right, and fuck, he's right. He good learned you and it scares.

"I'm not..." you wanted to argue, but your voice was shaking.

"Yes, you are," Jungkook replied quietly, his voice a dangerous, pleasant whisper. "You agreed to have sex with me, barely knowing me, because you're attracted to me, kitten." He slid his hand down under the skirt of your dress.

You felt your stomach clench with tension, and then he gently spread his warmth down. It seemed that he was not penetrating your skirt, but your skin.

You felt him touch your underwear. The pulse between your legs increased and moisture began to leak out.

"I can finger fuck you under the table right now and you wouldn't mind... that's how bad you are," he whispered in your ear. His breath burned your skin.

His fingers slid down to your thighs, pushed the edge of your thong away... and touched your most sensitive spot. At first hesitantly, teasingly, as if studying you. His middle finger slid along your wet slit, and you almost screamed.

You squeezed his hand with your legs, not stopping him, but rather pressing him closer. Your hand instinctively grabbed his wrist, and your cheek rested on his shoulder.

"Jungkook..." you whispered, chained by both fear and excitement. "The journalists... they..."

"They won't," his voice was hoarse, hard, almost angry. "I've chosen the perfect angle. Now, be quiet and obey."

He pressed harder, his thumb slowly beginning to draw circles on your clit, sensitively, without rushing, making you clench. The other two fingers penetrated deeper, stretching, pulsing inside you.

"So wet..." he breathed out, and his tongue touched your earlobe. You felt your whole body tremble.

He was taking his time. He was torturing you, corrupting every inch of you.

"Come on, kitten... Feel it. I want you to come here. For me."

A few smooth strokes, then a change of rhythm - faster, deeper - and then slowly again... He played you like an instrument.

You could feel your body being filled with waves. Each touch was like a flash. Your internal muscles began to tremble. You couldn't breathe.

His voice was the last push:

"You are my bad girl. Whoring under the table is your new name. Cum for me, kitten."

You clenched around his fingers, your body merged into one climactic wave, you gasped for breath, moaned softly, digging your fingers into his shirt. Your clit throbbed, a few more soft touches and you crumbled, helpless and trembling.

Jungkook kept his eyes on you. His fingers were still touching you-softly, gently, almost tenderly, as if they were calming your storm. Then he slowly pulled his hand out from under your skirt. He took a glass, took a sip, and said calmly:

"See?" his voice was softer but still deep, "You just came on my fingers." You clenched your jaw. A wave of shame and desire mixed in your chest, making your heart beat faster. "You want me even when you're not supposed to. Even when there are people around. And you hardly know me, so don't lie to yourself."

He leaned down and lightly touched your lips with his. He tasted each of your lips in turn, and finally pulled away with a reverent gesture. He sat up straight, as if nothing had happened.

Jungkook took another sip of wine, his eyes never leaving yours. There was everything in his gaze: triumph, desire, possession.

But you couldn't say anything. Your breathing hadn't steadied yet, and your heart was pounding in your chest as if it wanted to jump out.

Your legs trembled a little, and you tried your best to sit upright, even though you were still pulsing wave after wave inside. You clenched your jaw, trying to pull yourself together. Your hot cheeks gave you away.

And at that very moment, the waiter approached your table with a slight bend and a professional smile.

"Your appetizers," he said, placing the plates on the table. You tried your best not to look at Jungkook and not to give yourself away. You just took the glass of wine and took a sip, hiding the trembling of your lips.

"Thanks," Jungkook said calmly, as if nothing had happened. He pushed the plate over to you and whispered very quietly, keeping his eyes on you:

"Now, pretend to eat while your body still remembers my fingers."

You almost choked on the wine, but you gathered your strength. The smile on your lips was nervous, but your eyes were burning with... desire. And shame.

⇠ Previous ⟡ Index ➩ ⟡ Next ⇢

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook imagine #bts fanfction #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts #jungkook jeon #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook ceo au #jungkook slow burn

214 notes · View notes

aventurineswife · 2 months ago

Note

Heyy it's me, 🤡 anon <333

Can I request Aventurine, Jiaoqiu, Sunday, and Dr Ratio (seperate) getting into an argument with reader who is an ice element and they unleashed sharp icicles at the men out of frustration? It's like the scene in Frozen 1 when Elsa revealed her powers to everyone in the ballroom

Reader did it by pure accident, so they start apologizing profusely after realizing it

(Would be nice if there's some comfort at the end, I can't handle pure angst 💔)

I just know you're gonna cook like always with this one

Shards of Silence

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Angst with Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Argument, Accidental Injury, Ice Elemental Reader, Guilt, Apology, Fluff, Protective Behavior, Relationship Tension, Vulnerability, Character Growth.

Warnings: Emotional Conflict, Raised Voices, Accidental Harm, Brief Panic, Minor Injury (Non-Lethal), Reader Feeling Guilty, Touch-Starved Behavior (Sunday), Slow-Burn Comfort.

A/N: You have too much trust on me lmaoo 😭🙏 but thank you! 🤭💖

The argument had been brewing for a while. Aventurine, with his usual smirk, had been pushing buttons, playing with words, treating the entire situation like one of his high-stakes gambles.

"You never take anything seriously!" you snapped, arms crossed as you glared at him. The tension in the air was palpable, the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

Aventurine chuckled, tilting his head. "Oh, come now, sweetheart. You wound me. You know I always take things seriously—just in my own way."

You gritted your teeth. He was deflecting, as always. His voice was light, teasing, but you could see it—the way his eyes flickered, the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side. He was keeping up his act, refusing to let you in.

"I don't get it," you continued, voice trembling. "Why do you do this? Why do you make everything a game? Why can't you just be honest with me?"

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. "Because honesty is boring, darling."

That was the last straw. The frustration, the hurt, the overwhelming need to break through his mask—it all surged at once. A sharp, icy force exploded from you, shards of ice materializing in the air before launching toward him.

Time slowed.

Aventurine’s eyes widened as the icicles streaked toward him, their crystalline edges gleaming in the light. But at the last moment, he shifted—fluid and practiced—dodging with a grace that seemed almost effortless. One shard nicked his cheek, drawing a thin line of crimson.

You gasped, horror crashing over you like a tidal wave. "Oh no—oh my god, Aventurine! I—I didn’t mean to—"

But he was already grinning again, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. "Now that was unexpected," he mused, inspecting the crimson streak on his fingers. "A little warning next time, sugar?"

Tears welled in your eyes. "I'm so, so sorry—I didn't mean to—I just—"

His expression softened, and before you could spiral further, he closed the distance between you, gently tilting your chin up with two fingers. "Hey now, don’t look so devastated. If anything, you just made things interesting." His voice was quieter this time, lacking its usual theatrical bravado.

You swallowed hard. "I—I could've really hurt you."

"But you didn't," he pointed out, his gaze steady. "And even if you had, well—I've been through worse. A little ice isn’t going to shatter me, love."

His hand moved to yours, squeezing it lightly. "Besides, if this is how you show your feelings, I think I should start annoying you more often. Maybe I'll get a lovely ice sculpture next time."

Despite yourself, you let out a weak laugh. He always knew how to ease the tension, even in moments like this.

"You're impossible," you murmured.

"And yet, you’re still here," he teased.

His fingers brushed over yours, warm despite the lingering chill in the air. "Don't go freezing me out just yet, darling. I'm quite fond of this little game of ours."

And for once, you allowed yourself to believe him.

Sunday had never raised his voice at you before. Not once.

But tonight, his usual soft, measured tone was edged with something unfamiliar—frustration.

"You don't understand," he said, eyes dark with something unreadable. "I am not asking for your approval. I am telling you that this path leads nowhere."

"Why do you always act like you know best?" you shot back, voice trembling. "Like you have all the answers, like my choices don’t matter?"

Sunday exhaled sharply, his wings fluttering behind him, his hands clenched at his sides. "Because I have seen where this road ends," he murmured. "And I do not wish for you to walk it."

His words struck a chord—one that made your chest tighten with resentment and sadness all at once. The weight of his gaze, his presence, his unwavering belief that he was protecting you—it was suffocating.

"You can't control everything," you whispered, voice cracking.

Sunday hesitated. And in that moment, the emotions you had been struggling to contain surged outward.

A sharp chill swept through the air.

You barely had time to register the way ice crystallized around you, how jagged shards of frozen energy shot toward him in a burst of raw power.

Sunday's eyes widened, but he didn’t move.

The ice halted midair, hovering inches away from his form, before slowly dissipating into harmless flakes. He had stopped it—his power, his will, had overwritten your accidental outburst.

Your breath hitched.

"I—I didn’t mean to—" You took a step back, horrified. "Sunday, I’m so sorry, I—"

His expression had shifted. Gone was the frustration, the authority. In its place was something gentler—something almost sad.

Slowly, he stepped forward, raising a gloved hand toward you. You flinched, but he only rested it lightly against your shoulder.

"I know," he murmured.

You blinked up at him.

"I know you did not mean it," he repeated, his touch steady despite the way your body trembled. "And I know this power—this weight you carry—is difficult to bear."

Tears pricked your eyes. "But I—"

"You are not alone," he whispered, his golden halo casting a soft glow around him. "No matter what you may fear, you are not alone."

Something inside you cracked—not like ice breaking, but like something fragile giving way to warmth.

And when he pulled you into his arms, wings folding around you in a shield of silent comfort, you let yourself believe him.

"I expected more from you."

Ratio’s voice was sharp—calm, but cutting. The words stung more than you cared to admit.

"You think I don't care?" you snapped, fists clenched. "Just because I don’t think the same way you do—just because I don’t approach things like some cold, calculated formula?"

Ratio sighed, rubbing his temples. "That’s not what I said. But if you continue to act on impulse, if you refuse to analyze before you react, you will only cause unnecessary damage."

Something in you snapped.

Ice burst outward, an involuntary response to the storm of emotions inside you. Sharp icicles materialized in the air, hurtling toward him before you even realized what was happening.

Ratio barely flinched.

With precise, fluid movement, he raised a hand. A calculated counterforce met your attack, shattering the ice before it could touch him.

The room fell silent.

Your breath came in ragged gasps. "Oh my god," you whispered. "Ratio—I—"

He held up a hand. "I know."

You swallowed hard, shame settling deep in your gut. "I didn’t mean to—I just—"

A pause. Then, Ratio took a step forward, his intense gaze studying you, assessing every minute detail of your expression.

"Your emotions overwhelm you," he observed. "That is not a weakness."

You blinked. "What?"

"Your power is tied to your feelings," he said matter-of-factly. "That is not inherently a flaw—it simply means you must learn control. Recklessness will not serve you, but neither will self-recrimination."

Your hands trembled at your sides.

He reached out then, carefully taking your wrist. His grip was firm, grounding. "Next time," he said, voice softer, "tell me when you're reaching your limit."

The words were unexpected. But as you met his gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

And somehow, that was enough.

246 notes · View notes

srue-on-fire · 3 months ago

Text

Everything Comes Back To You

1. FEEL YOU SLIPPING AWAY

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader Rating: General Audiences Title: Niall Horan's Paper Houses Summary: After Shannon leaves, surrendering custody of Christopher, Eddie is left to raise him alone under the weight of guilt and his parents’ judgment. You try to hold everything together, but love, frustration, and a bitter argument leave you both fractured and silent. Tags: childhood friends, temporarily unrequited love, angst, emotional hurt. Word Count: 1600

read on ao3 ~ part two | tumblr

💔

The late summer heat clung to everything in El Paso like a second skin —heavy, suffocating. Eddie paced in your backyard, arms crossed tightly over his chest. You sat on the worn back porch steps, a bottle of lemonade sweating beside you, watching him unravel in the golden light of sunset.

“She thinks I ruined everything,” Eddie said finally, voice thick with frustration. “And my dad… every look he gives me— it’s like I’m dragging the Diaz name through the mud.”

You didn’t reply right away. You’d heard it all before, the same guilt, the same shame. Since you were kids.

Eddie’s parents loved Christopher, sure, but they’d never truly hidden the disappointment they felt over how it all turned out. Especially since Shannon left. That he wasn’t the golden son they once imagined. Back when he was thirteen, brought home every trophy at ballroom dancing competitions.

“You’re doing your best,” you said quietly.

He turned to look at you, eyes tired, “My best doesn’t count for much.”

“Only because you’re still trying to win a game that was rigged from the start.”

Eddie sighed. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means— stop trying to get your parent's approval. You haven’t even had time with your son, Eds! You don’t need their blessing to breathe. I know you can be a good dad to Christopher. You both need each other, he's barely six.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?”

He stepped closer, jaw tight, “You think I want to be here? Living under their roof again, like I’m nineteen with a baby in my arms?”

“I think you’re scared,” you said, softer than before. “And I think you’re tired. And I know you want to do what’s right for Christopher. But maybe staying here isn’t what’s best for either of you.”

“You think I haven’t thought about leaving?”

You got to your feet, frustrated and sad and a little angry. “Then do it. Stand up for yourself for once, Eddie. Move out of that place and stop letting them make you feel small.”

He scowled at you, “Are you saying I’m weak?”

“No,” you sighed. “Eds, come on. I think you’re stuck. And I’m trying to pull you out, but you won’t fucking move. You’re not weak. And you might have taken a couple of bullets in a war but you’re a coward.”

Eddie recoiled like you’d slapped him, and you closed your eyes, regretting your words immediately. His chest heaved once, twice. He nodded to himself. Then he turned and walked off without another word, a storm in his eyes, a tsunami in his heart.

You didn’t call after him.

💔

You were tired. The kind of tiredness that lived in your bones, where sleep didn’t fix it and caffeine didn’t touch it. Still, you dragged yourself to the community center you volunteered at once in a while. There’s a group meeting to support single parents in the summer, to help with babysitting duties, and you wanted to lend a hand in organizing it.

You didn’t see Eddie for two days.

You figured he needed time. Space. He always did after a fight.

You didn’t regret what you said, just how you said it. Eddie needed to hear it. Someone had to shake him loose before he curled so deep into himself that he forgot how to breathe. But still, you’d been waiting —hoping— he’d come back. Knock on your door, say something, anything. But nothing.

“I don’t know what else to do,” you told Maria —the fifty-something woman, sweet and gentle and always ready to listen. “I’ve tried, really. But Eddie— he won’t stand up to them. He just takes it. And I’ve tried to be patient but it’s like…”

You sighed and finally leaned back against the desk, dropping the pen. The hallway outside was a little noisy with people coming and going, busy with their own tasks.

“I don't know how he’s doing it. Why he is sticking to it. I mean, even I’m burning out emotionally just watching this disaster,” you rubbed your face with your hands and groaned. “Maybe he should just fucking leave. I can’t take it anymore.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Maria looked at you with quiet sympathy. “You don’t mean it.”

You sighed again and pressed your forehead against the desk top. “I don’t. It was bad enough when Shannon left without a fucking word. Like, all those years of friendship didn’t matter. As if I wouldn’t have had her back just because I’m Eddie’s best friend.”

Maria reached over and squeezed your hand.

“What do I do, Maria?” you mumbled.

“You’ve done more than enough,” Maria said.

“I love him,” you sat up, voice barely above a whisper. “I love Christopher. God, I love them so much. But I feel like I’m holding all of this together with duct tape, and every time I think he’s going to stand on his own, he just… collapses back into whatever guilt his mom stuffed into him as a kid. God, I hate that bitch.”

You didn’t cry. Not yet. You just pressed your lips together and shook your head.

💔

It was Maria who told you.

You were stacking chairs after the Tuesday night parenting group when she walked in from the front office, her steps unusually slow, the corners of her mouth drawn tight with something that looked like sympathy. You knew before she even said a word. Knew it in the way she hovered in the doorway, holding her clipboard like a shield.

“They left,” she said quietly.

Your hands froze mid-fold, the chair creaking under your grip. “Left?”

“Eddie and Christopher,” she hesitated, then stepped closer. “They packed up and left. Yesterday, I think.”

You blinked at her, trying to make the words settle in your ears. That was not what you expected. You thought maybe Eddie moved out without telling you, that he got a fourth job, or something like that.

“Did he say where?” you asked, though your voice was so hoarse it barely sounded like you.

Maria shook her head. “No. Just told the center they wouldn’t need care anymore. Didn’t leave a forwarding address.”

You looked down at your hands, still clenched on the chair. You nodded, once, then again, too many times. Like if you just kept moving, maybe the grief wouldn’t catch up. Maybe the weight wouldn’t settle in your chest like a stone.

The air in the community center felt too still. Too clean. Like nothing bad had ever happened here.

Maria called your name softly. But you only shook your head and just went back to folding chairs until the hall was empty and your knuckles ached.

You didn’t cry then.

💔

That night, you sat on the back porch where he’d last stood, where the heat had turned him furious and tired, where the light had turned him to gold and shadow and everything in between. The spot where his voice had cracked and yours had hardened.

The porch light buzzed overhead, flickering now and then like it was struggling to stay alive. Poetic.

You didn’t text him. You told yourself it was his turn. That if he needed you, he’d find a way.

And maybe that was the worst lie you’d ever told yourself.

Maybe you were a fucking coward, too.

The stars were dim behind a haze of city dust, and somewhere across the yard, a cicada screamed into the night. You wrapped your arms around your knees, forehead pressed to denim.

You hadn’t even said goodbye to Christopher. You hadn’t gotten to say, I love you, mijo. Be good to your dad.

You hadn’t told Eddie you forgave him. Or that you were sorry, not for the truth but for the way it came out of your mouth like a slap.

It felt like you’d been holding your breath for years, waiting for Eddie to choose something — anything — for himself. And now he had.

Just… far away from you. Without you. Not you.

When you finally went inside, the house felt different. Too quiet. Like something had shifted and wouldn’t shift back. You moved to open the fridge without thinking and saw it —still pinned under a fading magnet: one of Christopher’s crayon drawings. A crooked house. A stick figure holding yellow roses. A sun with too many rays. Your name written in messy handwriting.

You stared at it until the tears came.

Slow and steady, like rain that had been waiting all summer to fall.

You curled up on the kitchen floor, back against the cabinet, and let it happen.

Because this was it. This was what loving someone like Eddie meant. Watching him leave and praying he finds something better. Something softer. Something that isn’t so goddamn heavy all the time.

“I hope you’re okay,” you whispered into the dark. “I hope you’re somewhere warm. I hope Christopher is laughing. I hope you wake up every morning and don’t hear your mother’s voice in your head.”

You wiped your face on your sleeve.

“I hope you remember how strong and brave you are.”

And the last one— so quiet you barely heard yourself say it.

“I hope you never need me again.”

Because maybe this time, needing you was what kept him stuck.

And loving him meant letting him go find who he could be without the weight of your own expectations and hope tied to his ankles.

Maybe love wasn’t holding on. Maybe it was just… staying silent. And hoping.

That he finds a place where no one looks at him like he failed.

💔

to be continued. A/N: sorry about the repost, my tumblr is glitching and cutting the post midway. rewriting it so many times led to some changes. hope this one sticks. thanks for reading! Find part two here!

#srue writes #eddie diaz #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz x you #no use of y/n #eddie diaz fic #eddie diaz imagine #911 abc #eddie diaz fanfic #to be continued #ryan guzman #911 fox

141 notes · View notes

eyeritestuff · 1 year ago

Text

Billy Kid x Reader Headcanons ☆

—X—

A/N: super into ZZZ right now (and billy.)

CW: nothing, maybe a few suggestive jokes but everything is generally SFW :3 i’m super sleepy and writing this at 1am so bare with me when it comes to spelling and grammar :’)

Reader: Gender Neutral [they/them]

—X—

Billy takes a lot of selfies, especially when on missions, and sends them to you. You don’t know what made him start doing this, but you save each and every one of them and you make sure to drop whatever you’re doing to ask him about it.

Billy is on the spectrum. Don’t ask me the logistics of it, yes he’s sophisticated AI, but hear me out! Though you like to indulge in some childhood nostalgia, you aren’t particularly fixated on watching just one media from your childhood. However, one of the medias you watched back in the day is called Starlight Knight. As soon as you told him you enjoyed that show, he would come to you to talk about it. It wasn’t all the time, of course, but whenever conservation went dry (in person or via DMs), he’d make it a thing to talk to you about it for hours. It didn’t annoy you, not in the slightest. It made you happy to see him so happy about the children’s show, and so you entertained it as much as you could.

When Billy texts, he uses old fashioned emoticons as punctuation. Think ‘ :3 , ^_^ , o_O ’ and then replace it everywhere a period, an exclamation point, or a question mark would be. So many emoticons…

Billy loves to play video games, especially at the arcade. He invites you, and usually you tag along. When you can’t, he sends a selfie of him making a sad face. He’d probably captions it something like ‘Missing my pookie.. 💔💔’

On that same note, Billy will pick up on vocabulary you use and steal it. So if you have a habit of saying ‘pookie’ ? That’s his now. He’s using it all the time.

Billy panics easy when it comes to you. not only when it comes to safety, but also when it comes to romantic scenarios. During times you hang out with Anby and Nicole, they spill all the details of how Billy went on a rampage to find the perfect flowers, or how Billy sat in a corner all morning whining about how he didn’t find the right color outfit for you. Things along those lines!

Sortve related, but Billy gets flustered easily. Especially when you make dirty jokes, most of which aren’t really directed at him. He doesn’t get the jokes at first, but when he does understand them, he reacts in such an over the top and dramatic manner. Flailing around, gasping really loud, whining, yknow the works! One time you made a joke about ‘whimpering audios’ and he didn’t understand it. For a while too! Once he asked enough people (Anby explained it to him), he went silent and locked himself in his room for a considerable amount of time. He wasn’t sad or anything, just… shocked.

Billy isn’t human, so he doesn’t necessarily get injured in the traditional sense. One time he came back from a commission with his arm all battered up. You never seen him so down in spirits! You were able to help him, luckily, because it was only one part on his arm that was damaged that really messed up the rest of it. You kissed his hand, and immediately after inspecting your handiwork, he stuck his hand out again. “I dunno.. my arm still feels wonky. How about another kiss for good measure?”

When you’re bored, you love to dress up as Billy. Well, you’re not really dressing like him, you’re just wearing his jacket. You also like to wear the jacket with certain outfits you think it would look best with. Since your boyfriend is so tall and broad in the arms, you mostly wore it as a shoulder drape in an odd anime fashion statement. Regardless, Billy loved to see you wear it.

Earlier I mentioned Billy loves to take selfies, but I forgot to mention how most of them include you, and despite having all of those selfies of himself, half of his camera roll is you. He likes to sneak pictures of you sometimes! It’s one of his more odder behaviors, but he takes such cinematic pictures of you, even when you’re wearing the worst outfits. You didn’t know how he did it, but it’s one of the things that made the random picture taking somewhat okay.

Billy loves hugs. Don’t ask me how it works in terms of comfort. I would assume it’s the equivalent of sleeping in a car. However, Billy does have plenty of plushies thanks to you, and you use those to your advantage… so it’s not all bad :)

You asked Billy to teach you how to sling guns, and the entire tutorial sesh was just him feeling every inch of your body, memorizing and admiring how you looked. He loved you. All of you! He thought he was being sneaky, but you knew (and secretly loved it too).

Billy loves to carry you on his back and walk around. All I’m saying is, he’s got handlebars on that jacket for a reason… this has to be one of them……

Billy loves stickers. Self Explanatory!

Billy loves giving you gifts. He puts your needs over his more than he should, but luckily you’re not in this relationship to take advantage of his immaturity and inexperience. You give back as much as you can.

Billy is clingy. Needed to type it out despite it being loud as hell in this list.

Billy cant cook. Not like he needs to anyways, but he wants to learn for you! So when you’re cooking, he watches close behind you and asks you every question he can think of.

Billy likes to ask why… a lot. It gets frustrating sometimes, but he genuinely wants to learn.

—X—

A/N: thx for reading! idk might make a part 2 i’m gonna go fall asleep now :3

#billy kid #ZZZ #zzzero #billy kid x reader #billy kid zzz #zzz billy #zzz fanfic #zenless zone zero #zenless zone zero fanfic #fanfiction #i don’t know what else to tag this i’ve never written fanfiction before #billy kid x reader zzz #billy kid zenless zone zero #x reader #eepy #eepyposting #zzz fanfiction #headcanon #lalala

626 notes · View notes

lucvly · 2 years ago

Text

— boyfriend headcannons with matt. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: the usual !! sfw and nsfw parts. not proofread my bad.

a/n: i love reqs helppp 😣 working on another one which actually involves writing as we Speak !! i had to reupload this because i forgot tags SORRY anon 💔

— this man is obsessed with you. literally doesn’t even find any other women attractive. he has the biggest heart eyes for you it’s insane.

— adores hyping you up on instagram. he’s the type to reply “alr i saw it you can take it down now !!” when you post a story. your posts are filled with comments from him.

— he’s an absolute sucker for grand gestures. asked you to be his girlfriend by decorating your room with balloons !! goes all out on your anniversary (buys you a dress, gets you new jewelry, etc.)

— loves to color coordinate with you. whenever you two are going out or just seeing each other he calls you to match outfits. he thinks it’s the cutest (+ chris and nick tease him sooo bad for it)

— always gets you your go-to drinks. you’ll mention an iced latte once and he’s getting one for you every single day !! he’s so cute bye

— secretly loves it when you take pictures of him like a soccer mom LMAOO. he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. you love taking pictures of him doing literally anything: driving, doing laundry, etc.

— loves sleeping on call with you. he absolutely adores hearing you rant about your day. + sleeping on call together him while he’s on tour and misses you so badly !! half of the call is just him complaining about how much he wishes he could see your face and kiss you.

— he may whine about how you’re stealing all his clothes and hoodies but secretly loves watching you in them.

— him driving is sooo attractive. he’s such a gentleman ughhh. this man will get out of the car and open the door for you, leans over and buckles your seatbelt, + always has his hand on your thigh.

— always kissing you. forehead kisses, neck kisses, cheek kisses, etc.

— soo good at comforting and reassuring you. he’s such a sweetheart it’s sickening !!!

— your personal driver. it’s 3 am and you wanna go out? call him and he’ll be there in 5. you’re drunk at a party and need a ride? your boyfriend’s there.

— replies to your texts at lightning speed it’s sooo embarrassing but cute !!

— updates you on everything that happens throughout his day.

— nsfw below!

— anytime you kiss him it ends up in a heated ass make out session. your hands softly pulling on his hair, his hands gripping your waist as you ever so slightly grind on his hardening cock !! lollll !!

— he leans more towards the gentler side in bed. cute pet names, makes it All about you and your pleasure– (though he loves it when you give him head).

— howeverrrr, he can definitely get mean during sex. i’m talking manhandling, shoving your face into the pillow, dirty talk. (“too big— i can’t–,” “i don’t care, you can take it. i’ll make it fit.”)

— loves it when you overstimulate him. it’s his favorite thing ever. have fun watching him squirm, hearing him moan and whimper your name.

— begs you to sit on his lap. he adores it. stroking your hair, kissing your neck, his hands on your waist as he tries his hardest to not grind his hips up or simply just fuck you senseless.

— he’s vocal. whimpering out loud, begging, groaning, grunting. all of it.

— extremely good at aftercare. he’ll immediately clean you up, get a bottle of water for you, cuddle, talk, anything you want and he’s completely at your service.

— he’s such a secret pervert !!! cannot see you in a skirt because he’s already hard. showing a bit of cleavage? hard. sees you in a bathing suit? it is over for him. he needs you.

— cockwarming him while he’s gaming <333. he’s all for it. one time you two made a bet that consisted on making the other crack first. spoiler alert: you ended up with your moans being muffled by a pillow because you just couldn’t let him finish his game, could you?

#lucvly #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

2K notes · View notes

synkqngel · 6 months ago

Text

#RESOLUTIONS.

pairing: non!idol winter x f!reader.

desc: 2 hours until midnight, 2 hours until you welcome the new year and 2 hours until minjeong’s 24th birthday.

wc: 1.6k

tags: slight angst if u squint; not proofread, minjeong seems like a red flag at first 💔

warnings: none really, maybe a SLIGHT implication of sexual encounters (not really but yk)

it had been aeri’s idea to throw a new year's party against your better judgement — after all, you're her flatmate, which also means you have a say on what gatherings can happen in this apartment specifically. “come on, yn, it'll only be a small gathering,” the pink haired girl had told you.

by ‘small gathering’, she meant her six of her colleagues, old friends from your high school, and her whole friend group. by no means was this considered large, but you worry about how everyone would fit in a 200sqm apartment. her friend group (which was coincidentally also your *only* friend group), consisted of jimin, yizhuo, and minjeong. you didn't hate minjeong, it's not like you weren't close or anything— you were, maybe just a little too much. unbeknownst to the other three, you had been stuck in a constant cycle of ‘will they won't they’, a cruel reminder of the nights you’ve spent in the blonde’s twin sized bed only to wake up without her.

kim minjeong is confusing.

you don't know where you stand with her. multiple times she has whispered you, ‘i love you’ underneath the covers; multiple times where she had almost slipped up and introduced you as her girlfriend in front of people she meets, only to act like she doesn't even *know* you later. confusion and hurt: the two words you would use to describe your relationship (or lack thereof), and intoxicating: the word you would use to describe kim minjeong— or maybe hesitant. countless of times you have fallen into this game of push and pull.

and it would take the heavens to keep you from doing so.

aeri snaps her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your daydream. “hellooo? aeri to n/n,”

you whip your head over to look in her direction, blinking a few times. “sorry, what’re you talking about?”

“you've been like this all day,” she continues, furrowing her eyebrows. “is something up? c’mon, spill it— im your best friend.”

a few seconds of silence follow, before you finally snap out of it for a second time. “nothing, i'm just tired, we've been cleaning the damn apartment all day long, aeri.”

the pink-haired girl began to laugh, seemingly relieved her best friend, the one she knew and loved was back. “there you are! you've been strangely quiet, i was getting worried.”

“i hate cleaning, you know that, gi,”

meaningless conversation followed, something the two of you had grown to love ever since you moved in together, before the sound of your doorbell ringing caught your attention. patting you on the back, aeri stood up, making her way to the door to see who it was. checking the front door camera, the familiar heads of wine red and black hair appeared at the door, you heard aeri animatedly greeting the two before the door shut behind them.

you stood up, moving to hug jimin and yizhuo with a grin plastered across your face. thank the lord the previous conversation with aeri distracted you from the thoughts of minjeong. “jimin, ning, thanks for coming,” you smiled, exclaiming into the material of jimin’s sweater.

the tallest laughed, fixing your top as she pulled away. “of course, if it's you guys, i'd come in a heartbeat.”

you'd always considered jimin to be the most motherly out of everyone, taking care of each and every one of you and your friends. turning to yizhuo, you find she’s already sat down at the kitchen island, pouring herself a drink as she gossips with aeri.

coats pile up on the rack as the night falls and the party stretches on, with more familiar faces and some unfamiliar ones, which you assume are aeri’s colleagues. however, when the doorbell rings again only to find minjeong at the door with a small present, all your emotions begin to flood your mind, the buzz of the party unable to distract your thoughts when you're faced with the root of your distress.

a beat passes.

“i didn't think you'd come. i thought you were in busan.” a mumble. you avoid her neutral gaze in fear of breaking down.

“i came back early,” she replies in a much softer tone. the short haired girl extends the gift box out to you. “merry late christmas, don't tell the others i didn't get anything for them,”

you let her in, watching as she goes through the process of hugging and greeting each one of her friends before walking off to talk to some other people. pocketing the small gift box, you slump down on the couch, watching the sky outside for a while.

“hey,” a voice beside you says. someone approaches you, glass in hand, and you recognise her from one of your classes. you turn to face her, sitting up offering a small smile. “yn, right? i'm natty.”

“oh, yeah, ive seen you around but we've never had the chance to talk before,” she smiles at your words, taking a sip of her drink. “nice to meet you.”

you return the smile; she's sociable, easy to talk to even. “nice to meet you, too.”

the minutes pass, and you fail to notice minjeong’s eyes boring into the back of your head from where she's sat on a stool. ryujin stops herself mid sentence, her eyes following the blonde’s trail of sight. “jealous, huh?“

the other whips her head around to face her. “huh? what do you mean?”

“never mind,” she smiles before changing the subject.

minjeong watches your conversation intently— just why was her face getting hot? her expression is a mix of frustration, bitterness, and confusion. just why was she feeling this way? she runs her hand through her short blonde hair, turning to ryujin. “i'll be back, i'm going to the bathroom.” the other gives her a nod as she basically dashes to lock herself in the bathroom. as minjeong stares at her reflection in the mirror; she grips the edge of the counter, her face red and eyes glossy. “fuck, i'm losing it,” she mumbles.

kim minjeong has never felt this way.

now that she has; she doesn't know how to handle it— and it's killing both you and her at the same time: two birds with one stone.

switching the faucet on, she splashes her face with the chilling water in an attempt to snap herself out of it; to collect and compose herself. minjeong looks back at her reflection in the mirror, face now dripping with water— her reflection scares her. “get it together, kim minjeong. jesus christ, what are you doing?!” she whispers before drying her wet face with a paper towel and making her way back to the party.

the time on her phone displays 11:53. 7 minutes until midnight.

after searching almost desperately for another three minutes, she finds you alone on the balcony, silently watching you as you stared at the skyline, the cold winter air blowing at your face and messing up your hair.

her breath hitches at the sight.

you turn your whole body around, leaning against the glass railing. “what?”

“we need to talk,” minjeong states, stepping closer.

“about what?” your eyebrows furrow and you look to the side briefly.

“our relationship.”

those two words hit you like a fucking punch to the gut. you freeze in place, looking her square in the eyes. your eyes widen and the words you're trying so desperately to say become trapped in your dry throat.

“you don't get to say that, kim minjeong.”

minjeong is taken aback. she furrows her eyebrows, her lips forming a slight frown. “what?”

“you heard me. you don't get to show up and tell me we need to talk about ‘our relationship.’” you scoff, stepping closer to the other. “because, let's be real, what fucking relationship even is there? we're friends, but you sometimes want to pretend we're dating for your own benefit— what's it going to be, minjeong, what am i?!”

a beat follows as neither of you talk, too afraid to continue.

those minutes feel an awfully lot like hours before she speaks again.

11:58.

“look, n/n,” she begins. “fuck, i never meant to make you feel that way, i'm- i'm just confused, and—”

“confused?“

“let me speak. now that i've gotten too close, i pushed you away in confusion— i don't know how the fuck to deal with shit like this,” minjeong continues, extending her arm to grab your hand— its cold against hers. “i'm so, so sorry, and i know you're hurt and pissed and you don't have to forgive me, but—”

the commotion from inside the party breaks the bubble surrounding the both of you, pulling you back to reality.

ten.

breathe in; breathe out. minjeong's breaths are shallow as she takes in your slightly confused expression.

nine.

minjeong swallows, looking you in the eyes before continuing.

eight.

“i'm so sorry,”

seven.

she closes her eyes for a half-second. “i really, really,”

six.

confused, you speak up. “minjeong, what the hells going—”

five.

“shush.” the blonde huffs. “let me continue.”

four.

“i really like you,”

three.

she tracks her words again, realising what she had just said. “no, i'm in love with you.”

two.

minjeong takes a deep breath, making eye contact.

one.

“i'm really, really in love with you,” she whispers, as if no one but you and her were to know it, as if it were a secret.

twelve midnight.

“minjeong, what—” you begin, only to be interrupted and caught off guard by the sensation of minjeong’s pink lips against yours. soft and gentle, she grabs the side of your face, pulling you in as you finally kiss her back, and it's all she's ever wanted. it's all *youve* ever wanted.

all the nights you've spent dreaming of this, dreaming of minjeong: dreaming of being hers, weren't in vain. no, not at all.

when she finally pulls away, she stares into your eyes, the city lights reflecting off of your irises. “happy new year.”

a few seconds of comfortable silence pass before you speak again, your voice quiet.

“and happy birthday, minjeong,”

a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR AND HAPPY WJNTER DAYY (in my timezone atleast) i literally wrote this in like an hour while waiting for the fireworks so i'm sorry if it's trash 😭😭

#aespa x reader #aespa x fem reader #aespa imagines #aespa winter x reader #winter x fem reader #winter x reader #kim minjeong x reader #minjeong moodboard #minjeong imagines #kim minjeong imagines

214 notes · View notes