#Ignore previous drafts

[8-0mph]

Drawovers and future AU.

Some lore under the cut:

Five years have passed in Fair City, Word Girl and friends are now in high school. The villains are up to their usual shenanigans, some have even retired.

MAJOR AU SPOILERS - DO NOT READ IF YOU INTEND ON READING COMICS.

Dr. Two Brains, however, has slowly felt his mind slip from his control as the years pass, realizing that not only has he lost control of his mind but his body as well. He has undergone some unforeseen changes, slowly transforming into the body of a mouse. His claws poke through his gloves due to this, and he desperately tries to conceal his physical changes.

Professor Snakescrew, once known as Professor Seren Ramos, was once Steven Boxlietners colleague at the police station laboratory, working as a kind of assistant starting position. She graduated from the same university Steven had gone, and once teached in. Her goal has always been to surpass him in terms of her inventions and bettering the city, no matter the cost.

Dr. Two Brains (Steven Boxleitner) was a forensic scientist that also doubled as a hero researcher for Fair City. This often included studying Amazo-Guy, and publishing the famed Superhero Guide that Word Girl often refers to.

Backstory synopsis for Snakescrew: Jealous assistant striving for bigger and better things conducts an experiment that was almost guaranteed to fail. Saved by Steven, she blames him for her ailments, her failed career, and the destruction of her project.

-

Seren “Prof. Snakescrew” Ramos

Information:

31 years old, Female. Feisty, short. Hatred for Two Brains and Word Girl. Love for snakes and reptiles. Friendless loser.

Abilities: High-intelligence, Her snakes venom have hallucinogenic properties, causing the bite victim to experience pain and visual illusions. Often this can involve hallucinating an injury that isnt actually there or a nightmarish scenario.

She calls herself professor because she thinks its cooler than “doctor”. Refers herself as “We” subconsciously.

-

Steven “Dr. Two-Brains” Boxleitner

Information:

45 years old, Male. Scatterbrained, mad. Depressed alcoholic. Filling his time with drinking and eating stolen cheese. Also a friendless loser.

Abilities: High-intelligence, able to chew through steel, incredible hearing and sense of smell, sharp claws.

[killmymind]

MICKEY MILKOVICH in every scene 9/?

[foxhole-pipe-dream]

The most important updates from Nora's recent tweets, TO ME.

[bigskydreaming]

Imagine looking at a character whose entire premise is that in every stage of his life, he's made every version of himself into someone that inspires people to such a degree that EVERY SINGLE VERSION OF HIM has people wanting to literally follow in his footsteps in some way or another.....

And coming to the conclusion that like.....the most important things about him are the sum of all his trappings. His entirely homemade developed from scratch could not exist if not for what he already was and brought with him BEFORE crafting this newest version of himself trappings, with his greatest trait throughout all of it being his adaptability; his ability and willingness to roll with the punches and not try to simply weather any opposition or changes to his life but instead reshape himself as needed to better fit INTO whatever new shape his life and the world around him takes. All while managing to carry the most innate, fundamental and necessary aspects of himself from one version to the next. Thus every single version of himself is different but simultaneously every single version of himself is also undeniably the same person.

The strength of this character, to me, will always be that he can be so many versions of himself, he can become so many things, all without ever actually losing or discarding any of the aspects of himself he considers most essential, the things he's not willing to lose or give up just to keep going. Finding that road not taken by most, usually because most never even think to look for it as an option. But one that he's always able to find because the one trick he's mastered in his tumultuous life is threading that needle of not just digging in his heels in an unproductive way but rather being selective about when and where he makes a stand and decides "this is not a thing I'm willing to compromise about" but here are places and ways I can and will change and evolve and adapt in order to make it possible for me to hold onto these parts and keep them as they are.

And that's why its always so mind-boggling to me that so many writers can't seem to think of anything else to do with Dick Grayson other than invent some new reason for him to just....not be that person, or to like just take the character whose most basic fundamental trait he's NOT about to compromise on is willingly giving up his spot in the driver's seat of his own life.....and make him just a passenger in his own life and stories.

Dick Grayson at age nine....at age nineteen...at age twenty nine....the one core thread running through all versions of him is the only way he's standing back and letting you call the shots for him or putting him on the sidelines in some way is over his dead body.

HOW he goes about that, what that looks like, who he becomes and what aspects of himself he plays up at some times and what traits he lets fall by the wayside at other times when they offer less in service to his primary goal here....that changes constantly. He changes constantly.

But those changes are almost always (or at least they used to be/should be IN MY OPINION) made with the intention of keeping certain things about him or his life as consistent as possible.

That's the duality of Dick Grayson that I'm here for. The inherent contradiction of him that COULD allow for endless conflict and breaking new narrative ground in all sorts of ways if mined properly:

His eternal willingness to compromise....but only ever in pursuit of doubling down on the ways he's not willing to compromise.

Forever walking that tightrope in ways that only a kid born and raised in a circus could ever hope to.

[rahabs]

Well, on the upside, Veilguard’s absolutely horrid writing and utter lack of meaningful roleplay mechanics made me appreciate Inquisition’s already watered-down writing and roleplay mechanics.

[ontologicalmoki]

I have a cool, new, radical approach to in media res. It’s called “I wrote one cool scene in a fit of divine inspiration and now I don’t wanna do the boring part.” I think it’ll sell millions.

[licorice-cookie-crk]

guys how do you delete a post

[r2y9s]

My Dear Bunny: Chapter 1

rewrote the first chapter, so here it is again.

Fandom: Raffles - E.W. Hornung

Rating: M

Relationships: A.J. Raffles/Bunny Manders

Additional Tags: Sugar Baby AU, POV Bunny, POV First Person, I always have this urge to write Sugar Baby AUs and Bunny is my newest victim, WIP

Summary:

"My dear Bunny! Is that really you?" Hearing my old school nickname in that familiar voice stirred something long locked away in the pit of my stomach. I ignored it. Swallowing hard and pulling myself together, I shifted slightly on my client's lap and forced a smile. "Why, Mr. Raffles!" I said, with as coy an air as I could muster. "What a strange surprise."

[ Chapter 2 ]

[reasonsforhope]

No paywall version here.

"Two and a half years ago, when I was asked to help write the most authoritative report on climate change in the United States, I hesitated...

In the end, I said yes, but reluctantly. Frankly, I was sick of admonishing people about how bad things could get. Scientists have raised the alarm over and over again, and still the temperature rises. Extreme events like heat waves, floods and droughts are becoming more severe and frequent, exactly as we predicted they would. We were proved right. It didn’t seem to matter.

Our report, which was released on Tuesday, contains more dire warnings. There are plenty of new reasons for despair. Thanks to recent scientific advances, we can now link climate change to specific extreme weather disasters, and we have a better understanding of how the feedback loops in the climate system can make warming even worse. We can also now more confidently forecast catastrophic outcomes if global emissions continue on their current trajectory.

But to me, the most surprising new finding in the Fifth National Climate Assessment is this: There has been genuine progress, too.

I’m used to mind-boggling numbers, and there are many of them in this report. Human beings have put about 1.6 trillion tons of carbon in the atmosphere since the Industrial Revolution — more than the weight of every living thing on Earth combined. But as we wrote the report, I learned other, even more mind-boggling numbers. In the last decade, the cost of wind energy has declined by 70 percent and solar has declined 90 percent. Renewables now make up 80 percent of new electricity generation capacity. Our country’s greenhouse gas emissions are falling, even as our G.D.P. and population grow.

In the report, we were tasked with projecting future climate change. We showed what the United States would look like if the world warms by 2 degrees Celsius. It wasn’t a pretty picture: more heat waves, more uncomfortably hot nights, more downpours, more droughts. If greenhouse emissions continue to rise, we could reach that point in the next couple of decades. If they fall a little, maybe we can stave it off until the middle of the century. But our findings also offered a glimmer of hope: If emissions fall dramatically, as the report suggested they could, we may never reach 2 degrees Celsius at all.

For the first time in my career, I felt something strange: optimism.

And that simple realization was enough to convince me that releasing yet another climate report was worthwhile.

Something has changed in the United States, and not just the climate. State, local and tribal governments all around the country have begun to take action. Some politicians now actually campaign on climate change, instead of ignoring or lying about it. Congress passed federal climate legislation — something I’d long regarded as impossible — in 2022 as we turned in the first draft.

[Note: She's talking about the Inflation Reduction Act and the Infrastructure Act, which despite the names were the two biggest climate packages passed in US history. And their passage in mid 2022 was a big turning point: that's when, for the first time in decades, a lot of scientists started looking at the numbers - esp the ones that would come from the IRA's funding - and said "Wait, holy shit, we have an actual chance."]

And while the report stresses the urgency of limiting warming to prevent terrible risks, it has a new message, too: We can do this. We now know how to make the dramatic emissions cuts we’d need to limit warming, and it’s very possible to do this in a way that’s sustainable, healthy and fair.

The conversation has moved on, and the role of scientists has changed. We’re not just warning of danger anymore. We’re showing the way to safety.

I was wrong about those previous reports: They did matter, after all. While climate scientists were warning the world of disaster, a small army of scientists, engineers, policymakers and others were getting to work. These first responders have helped move us toward our climate goals. Our warnings did their job.

To limit global warming, we need many more people to get on board... We need to reach those who haven’t yet been moved by our warnings. I’m not talking about the fossil fuel industry here; nor do I particularly care about winning over the small but noisy group of committed climate deniers. But I believe we can reach the many people whose eyes glaze over when they hear yet another dire warning or see another report like the one we just published.

The reason is that now, we have a better story to tell. The evidence is clear: Responding to climate change will not only create a better world for our children and grandchildren, but it will also make the world better for us right now.

Eliminating the sources of greenhouse gas emissions will make our air and water cleaner, our economy stronger and our quality of life better. It could save hundreds of thousands or even millions of lives across the country through air quality benefits alone. Using land more wisely can both limit climate change and protect biodiversity. Climate change most strongly affects communities that get a raw deal in our society: people with low incomes, people of color, children and the elderly. And climate action can be an opportunity to redress legacies of racism, neglect and injustice.

I could still tell you scary stories about a future ravaged by climate change, and they’d be true, at least on the trajectory we’re currently on. But it’s also true that we have a once-in-human-history chance not only to prevent the worst effects but also to make the world better right now. It would be a shame to squander this opportunity. So I don’t just want to talk about the problems anymore. I want to talk about the solutions. Consider this your last warning from me."

-via New York Times. Opinion essay by leading climate scientist Kate Marvel. November 18, 2023.

[grotesquevi]

cw   # 18+ mdni. deleted the question without knowing lmaooo, but this was requested by @orchidprincesss before my draft was answer privately (lol) this is purely self-indulging knight!vi & runaway!princess, fingering, dumbification, oral sex, the knee thing winkwink, mean!reader, longer than ellie's drabble i lied, wc: 3.5k.

‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ ‎‎‎‎‎ㅤㅤ music || 1k directory || previous || pt. 2 teaser

"i'm politely demanding you to untie me" the sound of your voice seems to travel around the cabin as vi's busy working in keeping the fire burning, ignoring you like she's been doing the whole day. "did you hear me knight? this is the princess who's talking. show some damn respect, i'm the next in line for the throne."

it's been like that the whole day. whining, throwing empty threats about how you're going to tell everything to your mother when vi's acting under her commands. surrounded by a snow storm, you're lucky she's capable enough to find shelter in the middle of nowhere, cause if it was for your poor choices, you both be dying in the hands of nature.

“is your future majesty hungry?" her tone is laced with sarcasm and it makes you even more annoyed as you curse under your breath once again for your poor lack of choices. you didn't think about it enough to be fair, when escaping the castle. should've brought more money, better clothes, anything that would help you run far away from your royal duties "speak now. cause i don't know if there's going to be enough food tomorrow."

“yes” you reply still annoyed as ever as she's keeping your hands tied in a rope behind your back "i am hungry. thank you for actually thinking once in your life."

patience. vi just needs to be patient. she's getting a medal. she's going to gain honor, a name on her own as she's the only knight who's able to bring you back to the castle, the personal envoy of the regent queen who's capable of taking you back to the place where you belong. you're precious cargo, so when she's giving you some pieces of dry meat, she's careful of tying your hands back together over your front this time, free enough to let you eat in peace but not enough to allow any sudden movements, still in control since you're very good at disappearing without leaving a trace.

"ridiculous." you say as you eat with disgust: meat's too dry it seems "this whole charade. this entire act of bravery. it's ridiculous."

there's at least two more days of traveling back to the castle with you tied up like a prisoner cause vi´s too afraid of having you running the opposite direction anytime (you already did). forty-eight hours until she gains a decent reputation, a name that's good enough to make her sister proud: violet's not letting, under any circumstance ruin this for her. take all of her hard work just because you're throwing a tantrum.

"i'll say it to you again since you don't seem to understand, princess: you majesty gave me the permission to act in my rational behalf" she has dealt with this behavior before as she happens to have a sister, and jinx can also be a pain in the ass similar to your dashing personality — "i tried to do it your way before and you tried to poison me with belladonna. i'm not letting you out of my sight."

"did you saw the snowstorm outside?" you're planning to kill her with the rope around your wrists. how quickly you can wrap it around her neck until she's no longer breathing. it would take a big fight, but you're 60% sure you can take her, gain your desired freedom "do you really think i'm running away when there's no place to go?"

vi's good at ignoring you. so good it makes your skull tickle with anger, mouth dry when both of you eat in silence. stolen glances as you're too proud to keep talking to her, try to change the knight's mind when she's clearly too driven to her own ideas. she's been loyal to the family for how many years now? of course she's stubborn.

so when the night comes in and the mantle of dark blue covers the sky, there's no stars to guide you back to your stolen future, the bright freedom as the cold sweeps under your clothes and makes you shake unexpected. ends up making your plans dissolve as fast as they appeared in your mind when the knight's already sleeping under a thick blanket she found out while lurking around, and you, on the other hand, experience the sharp cold.

you're not asking for help. you refuse. refuse to ask for anything even when you'll die as your limbs begin to hurt in the first thirty minutes, swollen skin, you can barely move your hands as they seemed to be a victim of the frostbite.

and to be transparent with the whole truth, violet's been a knight since she has memory and she knows also when to expect bad behavior. what she doesn't expect instead is the clicking sound that wakes her up in the middle of the night, the chattering of your teeth when you're hugging yourself close to the fire and the knight is hit with a sharp stab of regret — she was going to give you the blanket before falling asleep.

"princess?" vi's voice irrupts in the silence, the tranquility while the fire's almost consuming. makes her jump out the bed cause you don't really move a muscle, the subtle shaking in your body barely visible due to the lack of lights in the cabin. "princess are you okay?" dumb question. holy fuck. she won't be getting any medal if you're not alive by the time she gets you back to the castle.

so vi's quick to reach you, long steps and calculated movements she's like a force of nature when she's standing in front of you, hand reaching down to swipe beneath the scarf you're wearing in nothing but a white linen shirt that covers right over the knight tights, and seems translucent at the pale illumination of the snow reflecting inside the cabin.

"i don't need your help. f-fuck off" the sudden touch makes you flinch. vi's warm and in contrast to the ice cold of your surroundings, it almost hurt for a moment at the direct contact against your skin. "turn the fire back on."

that's not a language for a princess. not a tongue worth of royalty, but vi's too worried about your state to even say something when her hand pushes against your pulse point and she can feel the subtle beatings of your heart as you try to push her away, prideful as ever.

so it comes to her choices, as the queen said. vi acts under her rational behalf, so that would explain why she's picking you from the cold floor you're seated in, untying your hands as your wrists are already sore: when the chimney has burnt out and you have no other choice than to cling to her embrace, take any kind of warmth you can receive as vi's carrying you back to bed, covering you with the blankets up to your neck.

rationality dictates her decisions, the knight's a loyal dog cause vi finds herself thinking in quick ways of making you gain a normal body temperature again, sliding against your side even when she's reluctant to any contact at first.

"what are you doing?" little shit. you can barely speak as you're stuttering on each word, shaking as she's getting closer to you "knight."

"my name's vi, not just knight" how can you be so annoying even when she's trying to save your life? good fuck. "i'm trying to help you make it through the damn night. now shut up and think about warm things."

vi. the name repeats itself multiple times as you can feel her hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer as you can experience the temperature of her breathing right over your neck, barely a blow of air that makes you shiver. she smells like ashes, like sweat after all those days without a proper bath and it has all the ingredients to make you grossed out, but instead of that, you find yourself defining it as comforting, as nice even if you’re asked.

ten minutes turn twenty, thirty as you're unable to surpass the cold, until vi’s suddenly moving away and you look at her from over your shoulder only to have your eyes widening in awe: why, the fuck, is she peeling the layers of her body away?

you turn back to the extinguished fire in the chimney, the pieces of wood consumed by the fire at the sight of naked skin, trying to give the knight any kind of privacy even when she’s the one that’s tossing her shirt to the side only to come back again to hug you.

“what are you doing-” is it the only thing you can ask? forever weirded out by her actions? a torment when vi’s hand begins to undress you without a single word of warning—. “can you answer me? what are you doing? i think you’re misreading this. sorry to say i'm not-”

your tone makes vi stop in her tracks for a second, her brows furrowed as she stares at you for a dead minute: are you nervous by any chance? despite the logic of her actions, her desire to keep you alive, are you nervous since she’s exposed right next to you? man. she realizes now that her lack of shame, is the result of always being exposed to the human eye, to the rest of her fellow knights.

“tell me princess, have your fancy teachers ever told you about skin-to-skin temperature?” she makes you feel dumb for a second as you keep you chin up in response — “you’re freezing even when i’m all over you, and i value my life as i don't want myself hanged. am i really the one who’s misreading things here?”

“of course i know what it is. i’m surprised you know about skin-to-skin contact.”

it makes you stay silent as vi keeps undressing you, pretending you understand the logic of her actions as she's leaving your cold clothes outside the bed until you need to hold your breath in, suddenly forgetting how to do something easy as breathe, when you’re naked under a thick duvet of what if must be animal fur, and you're experiencing the warmth of the knight hugging you again, pressing herself against your back and holding you close to her chest.

oh fuck.

it’s insane. the ultimate act of madness when vi’s once again leaning against your neck, pressing her chin right over your naked shoulder, just checking on your body heat according to herself. however, makes her worry when she's getting distracted by the smell of your skin right under her nostrils, how you’re able to smell like a field of recently blossomed flowers even when your gown’s messed up, when your hair is tangled in dirt and you’re covered in the sweat of now exposed to extreme temperatures.

“i’m sorry. for leaving you without anything that offered some sort of cover” vi’s heart’s beating again when she’s able to feel yours against her hands, when her fingertips cant help but caress the skin of your waist in invisible circles, covered in tenderness. “are you better now?”

“i'm okay” you say getting over the shame and finding truth in her words, leaning against her touch as vi’s skin is warmer than usual, makes you feel normal again, cozy. “my mother will still find out about how you almost left me to die, vi.”

"you're so spoiled" there’s no venom in her words more than just teasing. you’re saying her name and its strange how it gets so quickly under her skin, how she can see the way your teeth catch your lower lip when you pronounce the letter v “even when i’m helping you, you find ways of being a disrespectful brat.”

you’d say something. maybe tease her like you've been doing the whole day — but your ass is pressed against her front, her breathing hovers right over your skin, and you're enjoying the relaxed touch of vi's fingers when they go right over your stomach, roaming around like you've always been there to touch, to fit right against her arms.

"i'm not going to say anything" she has the perfect view of your neck, the back profile of your face, the shadows you project against the improvised bed she made up earlier: she's trying so hard not to think about your ass. "i'm just messing with you."

you turn your head to look at her even in the dark and vi's tummy hurt at the need that settles on the lower part of her stomach, the way your eyes glisten under the minimum light that slides inside, silent like a thief thats coming to steal your most prized belongings.

"before, you said i was going to poison you with belladonna" she don't care now before her gaze slipped to see the curve of your chest, the amount of exposed skin already driving the knight crazy as vi can see the curve and the stiffed peak of your breast as the duvet slips off against your sudden movement, the erotic shadow of your figure — "you're mistaking it with wolfsbane. you'd be hallucinating for a while. it was a very small dose."

"so you weren't intending to kill me?" she asks, and it's inevitable at this point, when the knight's lips brush against your back and the tip of her nose grazes against your shoulder, no turning back when vi's pressing a soft kiss right in the zone "is that what you're trying to say?"

"no intentions of killing. nope."

she's kissing the same spot again and it does things to you. makes your body respond to the tingles left in your skin at the contact of her lips, and at the lack of denial, vi keeps going when your breathing turns heavier, when she's making sure you want it too.

"tell me to stop your majesty."

the knight's brain turns into a pile of mush when you're pushing your ass back against her and your back arches almost asking vi to keep going, keep the eager caressing in your stomach now right beneath your breasts.

"i can't tell you that."

"then tell me about how i'm a hound dog destined to only serve and gain nothing more than the pride of the crown" she begs, hands tightening against your side — "how this isn't right for a princess as yourself."

"i don't care about the crown," the words slip like a secret, like an admission you need to make and it stays in the air for a while. "if you wish to serve, vi, serve me."

violet vanderson's the most loyal knight. she has served the royals with blood, sweat and actual tears, bent the knee to your father before he died, to your mother as the regent queen, and with you in a much different context as she's placing her bended knee right between your legs; makes you gasp for a moment as you can feel the warmth of her thigh pressing against your sensitive flesh.

"you're wet," vi mumbles against your ear, and how she's positioned — right behind you, it gives her the perfect path to let her hand previously caressing your skin, slide between your legs and reach its way to heaven, a couple of digits spreading your folds in the most intimate touch. "this turns you on?"

she can feel you nodding your head, admitting over and over again: yes it does. it fucking does. turns you on more than anything you've experienced before when she's touching you like she wants to know you, like she needs to discover what exactly gets you there, where to touch.

how a knight can begin to touch a princess in the way she deserves? she lacks of delicacy, vi's movements are rough, messy and erratic, incapable of keeping a pace as her calloused hands roam against your sex, staining the palm of her hand with what it could be visible arousal if having just a slight more light.

"you were so eager to talk back before, what happened to you" lost, vi's tone wanders in an empty head only to leave your right ear as fast as it enters. "tell me about how i'm misreading this again, how you're not soaked because some skin-to-skin contact to save your life."

mhm. you're breathing a soft affirmation, a humming sound that comes from your chest, an exhalation from your lungs as they seem to hold too much air inside. her free hand forces you to move against her leg using the right amount of pressure to create that delicious circle your hips make, and your cunt opens perfectly for her, parts right in the middle to feel the drag of your folds against her skin, the wet trail it leaves behind making the surface of vi's leg lubricated enough to just slide, to let your knight have the most comfortable reach to your clit who she's doesn't spend much time looking for, to rub at the most sloppy pace.

"please-"

"please what?" the words seem to get lost mid-way, trapped in your throat as her index finger reaches your entrance, and vi's teasing it without fully sinking in, testing for a moment as she keeps trying to hold on to this rationality that lingers in the back of her brain. struggling when your hole loosens up for her digits and she's wondering for at least then seconds, how correct is to fuck a princess using her fingers, how she should be pushing the very tip inside to just tease how tight you are, how good you'd felt enveloping her fingers; sucking them inside until they hit that space you'll learn to love.

"please just- i need to feel you closer, be full of you."

“yeah? do you want me to use my fingers?”

"yes-" you're so good like this. you forget about the attitude, let your guard down only to let her have you in plain devotion, in a need that makes the knight's hands act on their own. "need you to treat me like i've always been yours."

and vi's kissing you this time cause she needs to feel the gained warmth of your breathing against her lips, your moans muffling against her bucal fat as her tongue pushes right against yours in a messy kiss, one full of shared saliva, teeth and slurred words of praise.

her fingers push slowly at first, you're tight, warm, inviting, swallow her fingers ready for her until vi's knuckles deep and she's biting on your neck to keep her own moans in check.

fails miserably when you're failing miserably too. when you're loud as she's using a couple of finger to scissor them inside your sex, spreading you for what vi would love to be her strap, making room as she rubs against your walls, making you drip down your legs, making an entire new mess.

"keep rubbing your pussy against my leg m'lady" vi encourages you, voice rough, you're entirely sure she's enjoying this as much as you do. "i'm yours to use."

and at this point you can barely move, following the force of vi's hands pushing you back and forth until you're welcomed by the heat, the fire that comes from inside and spreads all over your chest when you're finally spasming over her hand and it's the final cue to your orgasm pouring over like warm water after a long day.

she's kissing on your back again, following the bones of your spine, burying her nose in your hair, keep you as humanly close when your muscles tense and you're leaking all over her leg.

"there you go," vi smiles against your skin when you're stopping on your clumsy movements, when your skin's now burning against hers and you need to uncover yourself from the duvet — "you okay, sweetheart?"

it's actually rewarding when you're giving a big breath before sinking down the blanket, positioning between her parted legs.

"can you hold my hair?" you ask, looking up to the knight as she's holding the cover up to see what exactly your doing when you're teasing her entrance with a couple of fingers seconds before spitting right over her swollen cunt.

she's dizzy already, lost in a haze of a contact that makes her shiver. it's not really necessary cause vi's already dripping, but it makes her skin violently shiver when the saliva's following a path back to her ass, sticking to the shape of her cunt already glistening from before.

"i'm giving you a medal" you reply, spreading her for your pleasure and gaining a suffocated moan — "an special one you cannot get with the rest of my family."

it makes her shut up when her hands grab a fistful of your hair in her hand, as vi can feel the movements of your head when you're going down on her and oh—

she's not tying your hands against your back the next morning.

no. in the next forty-eight hours vi keeps you trapped between her arms, in the same horse as her, riding your way back to the castle and being a victim of her neck kisses, her touchy hands as you comply pleased to her every need.

turns out what the runaway princess needed was being followed around by her most loyal knight — maybe you're ready to the throne. you can clearly use some power to your benefit.

[wasyago]

Falls in, i would love to hear about this decked out/failed cave exploration au pls pls pls already i am Bewitched

hehehe [in tango's voice] sighh i suppose...

really im very tempted to just let it sit and not tell anything, because it's so fun seeing people theorize and point out details in the notes. but yeah i guess i shouldn't gatekeep it, its a fun au!

i do want to state in the beginning that it was a one-off thing and i have no plans on continuing it or drawing more for it. if you do tho? feel free! (not asking for fanart by any means, but giving the green light if anyone was wondering)

well

-------

Pet crew were a group of cave explorers. They're no experts by any means but they were no amateurs either! (ignore the fact that they're not wearing any PPE, i didn't want to draw it, ok--) And recently they've been excited about mapping out a new cave system they found, completely unexplored according to their research.

Tango, always a big lover of his plans and spreadsheets, presumably decided to go in alone ahead of time to sketch out at least a rough draft for a map, so they had an idea of what they're going to be dealing with.

But see, this cave is not an ordinary cave, no matter how pristine and untouched it looked. It is one gigantic organism of unknown origin, and a hunrgy one at that, the air inside it is filled with little cells or spores that, when inhaled enough, start taking over the body and corroding it to the cave's will. Killing the host in the process.

So, obviously, after spending some time in the cave by himself, Tango did get some cells in him. Not enough to be noticeable, but enough to give him a headstart on the corruption when the group went in for a proper dive some days later.

The first symptoms of undergoing the change are pretty standard: light fever, weakness, dizziness — easy to mistake for a flu.

Which is exactly what Tango did. Of course, going caving with a flu is not a smart thing to do either, but the group has been planning this trip for so long, delaying it even more because someone was slightly under the weather would've been foolish!

The cave started off with a big drop, requiring a rope to be set up, and then sprawled into a system of tunnels. Tango and Pearl were very excited to find an entrance to some ancient tombs a couple of hours into the dive. There were stairs leading even deeper underground, which turned out to be an entrance to a bigger cave system, with a huge frozen lake in the middle and an entrance to abandoned mines.

Further symptoms include skin turning pale, graying hair, eyes starting to shift color to red. Previous symptoms remain and intensify.

Tango had always been pale, he had blond hair too, and in the dark it was hard to notice the white streaks in them. The pink cheeks were easily passed as a result of being in the cold. Pearl did express some concerns about Tango's well-being when he started to fall back a bit, but he dismissed it as just him getting tired. By that point Pearl seemed to also have some "frost" in her hair.

After the hair have fully turned white, the tips start to switch color to an unnatural blue. Skin eventually loses color completely, turning gray. Fever intensifies as body desperately tries to fight the infection.

At that point it was impossible to deny that something was wrong with Tango. There are no mirrors underground though, so to him it was just his flu getting out of hand. Guilty of hiding his illness, yes, but nothing critical. The blue hair however were not normal, and the other two were freaking out a bit more than Tango would've hoped for.

They had an argument.

Etho snapped and hit Tango to beat some sense into his stupid head.

By that point Pearl was clearly looking bad too, and Etho's own hair were apparently turning white. They were all feeling terrible, physically and mentally. They decided to head home.

As previously stated, the cave is in fact alive and can sense when something that belongs to it is trying to escape. In an effort to stop it, the whole cave system comes to life. Old animal carcasses rise and start walking, small screeching creatures begin patrolling the tombs, the ice melts and the cave blooms in dangerous ways.

When the crew exited the mines into the second level of the cave system, it was apparent that the way back would be a lot harder. By that point Tango was struggling to stand and Etho had to drop his equipment to carry him. But the fever and the dizziness were making it hard to move fast, the changed layout of the cave was difficult to navigate even with their map, and the way to the surface was still very and very long. It was obvious they couldn't make it out....

Unless they were willing to make some sacrifices.

Etho isn't proud of his decision, but leaving Tango was their only option! He and Pearl still had a chance to escape if they moved quickly, but Tango was just too far gone, he couldn't-- Etho couldn't carry him to the exit, he was getting too tired, and if they all stuck together it would get all three of them killed! Was it not better for at least two of them to survive instead of-

They had another argument.

Pearl stubbornly insisted on taking Tango, so Etho had to lie to her and say that they will come back once they scout out the way. Etho couldn't force himself to look at Tango though, if he did he would be met with this knowing look and he just couldn't bear it. Tango cried when they were leaving.

After the body succumbs to the fever it stays dead for a short period of time, while the rest of the changes set in.

It took a miracle for both Etho and Pearl to reach the tombs, but the hard part came after. Etho did everything in his power to convince Pearl to leave with him, he said they will come back later when they're better prepared, he said it was too late to help Tango, he said it was Tango's own fault, he said many bad things, none of which were enough to change Pearl's mind. She turned back and Etho didn't follow her.

He ran through the tombs and the caves alone, losing his eye to a monster he saw all too late. It was painful and it was disorienting, Etho doesn't even remember how he got to the initial drop they went down, he was panicking and only moving forward because of adrenaline and instinct. The ascend was a fever dream, Etho doesn't know how he didn't fall to his death then.

Through the rush of blood in his head, Etho heard the faint sound of Tango's voice. Too cheery for his feverish condition, and much, much closer, a lot closer than the place they left him to die in. He did not hear Pearl. The sound stopped when it was right under him, and he felt a light tug on the rope he was hanging of. And nothing else happened...

Etho emerged from the cave into the cold night, stumbling over his own feet, too tired to run. Their van was parked over by the entrance and Gem was already waiting for him. Him — shaking, bloody and alone.

...

The body reanimates again, now obedient to the cave's will. It is no longer alive but it is not dead either, frozen, stalking through the tunnels in a mindless haze.

[honeekyuu]

talk too much. [suna rintarou x reader]

twelve. lipstick

previous || masterlist || next

a/n. you ever just miss a man so much you pick up a hobby again?

warnings: suna rintarou

✗ !!! minors do not interact !!! ✗

✗ !!! ignore timestamps !!! ✗

“We’re still on for Saturday, right?”

You swallow down the bite of dinner, smiling nervously into the camera. Suna’s got two fries in his mouth, and he’s not looking at you. His gaze focused very carefully on his drawing pad, stylus gripped loosely between his fingers and following the path his wrist sets with care.

It’s just after seven o’clock, but you’d been on the phone since two. He’d clocked quite a few extra hours in the studio this week due to some project deadlines, and you’d dutifully sat on the other end of a facetime call every night. Your own work remains undone, the problem set haunting you from the corner of your desk. You have a draft of a chapter for your writing class up on your monitor, your messy notes open on your laptop. 

You’d been doing that more recently, too. Blatantly ignoring the responsibilities of your major to actually invest in your electives, this one in particular. You’d always been interested in writing, but it’d been more of a passing hobby than anything else. This class – and the encouraging feedback from your professor – had made it scarily real for you in the last few weeks, with a terrible, lingering hope filling you. A terrible hope that this might be what you’ve wanted to do this whole time. A terrible, nagging thought that the unopened problem set on your desk might be indicative of something bigger that you’ve been trying not to acknowledge.

You’re more than happy to set that issue aside to engage Suna’s conversation.

“Saturday?” you say, spooning more of your rice bowl into your mouth while you give him your attention. He only glances at you, eyes dropping to your mouth before flitting toward his own dinner shyly. He shoves nearly half of his burger in his mouth, only snorting when you watch in horror, before nodding.

“‘aturday,” he mumbles plainly, and you have to pull up your calendar because you know that’s all you’re getting.

PUMPKIN PATCH – DON’T FREAK.

Well, that’s not helpful.

Your chest swarms with nerves, and you do your best to appear as though a brick of fear hasn’t just come down over your head.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He sees right through it, swallowing while he cuts you a disbelieving glance. “You’re so nonchalant and cool.”

You laugh, hiding behind a hand. “Sorry, I’m freaking out.”

“Me, too.”

His honesty is disarming as always. 

“Yeah?”

“Incredibly. But I still wanna do it.”

You purse your lips, warming. “Me, too.”

A beat passes, and then a voice full of fond amusement. “Yeah? You sure?” 

A roll of your eyes, the draw of his laugh when he sees it.

“Yes, Rinnie. I’m sure.”

A sigh of frustration masked as a laugh. “You’re so cruel for that.”

It’s hard to focus on your draft that night.

–

You take a deep breath and exhale slow. Slow. 

Breathe in, turn to look at yourself in the mirror, this way and that. 

Breathe out slow. Slow. 

“It’s okay,” you say to yourself, breathing in slow and then breathing out slower. “It’s okay, it’s Suna.”

It’s Suna, the same boy you’ve been talking to for weeks – months, really. The same boy who’s proven again and again that he’s not like any boy you’ve ever met before. The same boy who’d asked to pick you up this morning, who’d asked to walk entirely out of his way to pick you up for a date. A date that he’d been pushing for since before either of you could consider it one.

“It’s Suna,” you breathe again, forcing yourself to be okay with how your hair looks. “Just a first date. With Suna.” 

There are three quiet knocks on the front door, echoing around your apartment and into your bedroom.

Just a first date with Suna.

You start to sweat almost immediately.

“Okay,” you breathe, fanning your face with nervous hands and walking on shaky legs to your bedroom door. “Okay, I can do this.” You look around the living room as you cross it, making sure the space is tidy and lacking anything potentially embarrassing. You’d already checked five times, but one more couldn’t hurt.

By the time your hand is on the doorknob, your face is burning and your hands are clammy.

The man on the other side of the door doesn’t look much better.

It’s weird, meeting someone you’ve known for months.

The first thing you notice is that he’s tall. You’d known. You’d known he’d be tall, but fuck, he’s tall.

The second thing you notice is that he’s got dark features but light eyes. Green eyes, but black hair, black eyebrows. Green eyes, but inky black eyelashes that flutter over them. You’d known that too, from the photos and the calls, but his eyes are greener and his hair is darker in person. His clothes are just as dark, grey shirt tucked into black jeans and dark plaid flannel thrown over the top.

You notice the piercings and tattoos, too. The lip ring he tugs nervously between his teeth, the uneven number of piercings on his left ear and right ear, glinting in the light of your apartment hallway. The black ink peeking out from under the sleeves of his flannel, dark ink and pale, ringed fingers.

Pale, ringed fingers that are shaking just slightly, wrapped tight around a bouquet of flowers.

He looks exactly the same as he does in his photos – the familiarity is nearly overwhelming – but everything is new, intense. The reality of Suna Rintarou is stronger than it had been before.

“Hi,” you whisper, staring up at him with wide eyes. He stares back, looking just as stunned.

“Hi-” he breathes, cutting short and swallowing hard. You watch his Adam’s apple bob, ink on his throat moving with it. “-pretty girl.”

You’re not sure you’ll survive this day.

You shiver, breaking eye contact nervously and trying not to let the chills that his voice induces run rampant on your skin. “Do…” You glance over your shoulder and then back at him. “D’you wanna come in? For coffee or something?”

You watch his face redden in real time, watch his ears turn pink as he looks away from you. 

He’s as nervous as you are.

“Sure,” he says quietly. “That sounds nice.” He follows you inside, stepping carefully into your foyer and looking around curiously while he takes his shoes off. “I like your place.”

You warm, padding into the kitchen to start making coffee. You’re distracted beyond belief, distracted by the overwhelming sense of Suna’s presence. It only worsens when you glance back to thank him and realize that he’d followed you down the hall. “Oh. Hi.”

His eyes scan your face – your wide eyes and surprised blush – and then he bites down on his lip ring, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Hi. Am I making you nervous?”

Laughter bubbles out of you, and that wave of familiarity returns, washing away some of your anxiety about meeting him. You already know him.

“Maybe,” you tease, nodding back at the bouquet hanging limply in his hand. “But not any more nervous than I’m making you.”

Suna glances down, realizing that his hand is gripped so tight around it that petals are starting to shed off of the flowers onto your floor. “Oh-” He holds out the bouquet, grimacing when more petals float down between you. “This is for you.”

You smile, feeling a swell of giddiness rise in your chest – the one that you’ve always gotten with him, from the moment you started to fall for him. “I have some vases in that cabinet over the fridge,” you say, still grinning stupidly at him. His eyes twinkle, and you know he’s caught the tinge of domesticity in the way you talk to him. “Help me out, 6’3”?”

He sets the bouquet on the counter, never taking his eyes off of you. “Whatever you say, pretty girl.”

Oh, good lord.

You press a clammy hand to your heated face, watching him cross the kitchen toward you. You lean into the corner of the counter when he stops close enough to you that his scent washes over you, warm and comforting and so Suna and new that you have to fight not to gravitate toward him. 

Suna reaches up with ease, pulling the cabinet open and plucking a small vase from inside. He smirks to himself while he does. “Why d’you keep these up here if you can’t reach?”

“So I can get pretty boys like you to do it for me,” you joke, basking in the nervous flutter of those inky black lashes and the sharp cut of those green eyes down to yours.

“Got a lot of pretty boys on your roster?” His voice drips in annoyance, but his face is a lovely pink color and he can’t seem to keep eye contact with you.

“Just one,” you say, your confidence leaving you when he hands over the vase. Your fingers brush against his, and your heart flies to your throat, the nerves unbearable. You turn away, filling the vase with water from the tap and putting far too much care into arranging the bouquet. You feel him behind you, feel his eyes burning through your skin as he takes you in.

“I like your jeans,” is all he says. 

You glance down, taking in the light denim jeans and burnt orange cardigan you’d spent way too much time picking out last night. You’re not the biggest fan of how the jeans fit you, mainly because they’re much more form-fitting than you’re used to, but you’d really wanted to try something new for him. To show him how far you’ve come.

“Thanks,” you whisper nervously. “I’m still getting used to them.” He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a large part of you knows that he doesn’t need to. You can feel his pride from here, washing over you in waves of heat.

You turn back to him, leaning all your weight on the counter so you don’t collapse. “I like your outfit, too.”

His grin is torture, you’re sure of it.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “I tried really hard today.” When you just beam up at him playfully, he sighs in defeat and looks away. He scans over all the things on your fridge, lingering on the polaroids of you with your friends while he speaks. “‘s probably better if we skip the coffee and just go.”

Your face drops, and you blink in confusion. “Why?”

He just smiles in a way that feels self-deprecating, eyes locked on a photo of Alisa and Suga kissing each of your cheeks while you laugh. He swallows, staring down at it with something warm in his gaze. “If we stay here much longer, I’m not gonna wanna leave.”

He has no idea how okay with that you just might be.

Still, he’d promised you a pumpkin patch.

You step toward him, closing the distance and watching as his gaze flits to yours nervously. You press your chest to his while you reach past him for the fridge, pretending you don’t feel his breath stutter or the fingers that brush against your waist.

There’s another photo, just under the one he’d fixated on – it had been taken the same night, just last week in fact. A weeknight when the three of you had decided that bellinis and Breakfast Club could be the only cure to your end-of-semester stress. When Alisa had whipped out a cheap polaroid camera and demanded a photoshoot, when Suga had only been so glad to order delivery for more alcohol and raid your closet for stupid photoshoot outfits. When the three of you had gotten drunk and giddy enough for your newfound confidence – still shy and small and in no small way nurtured by the very man in front of you now – to make an appearance, encouraged in the whoops and hollers of your friends when they’d seen the new you come out.

When you’d climbed drunkenly into Alisa’s lap and let her take a sexy – incredibly blurry, but still sexy – snapshot of you, the memory of Suga cheering in the background while shaking his ass to the end track of Breakfast Club embedded in the glossy film of your smeared lipstick. 

You’d kept the photo, too in love with the memories that had come with it. But you think maybe it would belong better elsewhere.

“Here,” you say, pressing the front of the photo to his chest while you back away, watching with warm ears when he takes it but keeps his eyes on yours. “You can keep that one in your wallet, if you want.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise, but you turn away and move back down the hall before you can watch him look at it. 

Still, the hushed ‘holy shit’ echoes all the way to the foyer while you put your shoes on, and you bite down a laugh.

“Ready to go?” you call, tying up your sneakers and hearing Suna rush unsteadily out of the kitchen. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” he calls back distractedly. Glancing up through your lashes, heart pounding in your ears at your own courage, you catch as he tucks the photo away in his wallet, just behind his ID. He folds his wallet carefully and slips it in his front pocket, inked fingers still trembling slightly. 

You walk out after him, locking the door and following him down to the nearest bus stop. He can’t seem to decide if he should stand a friendly distance from you while you wait or if he should press his side against yours, so you linger closer to him to let him know it’s okay. He flushes but steps right up to you, facing you and using his frame to block the wind when he sees how you tense against it. 

You stand in a silence that’s somehow both comforting and unnerving, meeting his eyes and then looking away nervously. He just watches you, lips pulling into a fond smile every few moments before he remembers to smother it. He reaches out to you after a while, running cold fingers over your ears and tapping the tips of his fingers against your done-up hair, grinning when you give him an empty glare.

“I like these,” he mumbles, toying with your dangly pumpkin earrings. His thumb brushes over your jaw and then your cheek, and then he finally drags it lightly against your bottom lip, your lipstick coming off a little on his skin. “Pretty.”

You inhale sharply, head swimming with the feel of his fingers and the smell of him – of his clothes and his cologne. So gentle and warm, yet so goddamn overwhelming.

You look up at him through your lashes, parting your lips just slightly, and his eyes grow wide as he stares down at you. He blinks in surprise, and you’re not totally sure what’s just happened. But his thumb leaves your lip, and you find yourself turning toward it, chasing the feeling for just a moment longer. Chasing him for just a moment longer.

The sound of the bus turning the corner breaks the spell Suna Rintarou’s put you under.

You blink rapidly, taking a small step back and watching Suna swallow hard. His face is redder than you think the wind can be blamed for, but he just turns and holds a hand out to help you onto the bus. Your skin burns where it touches his, and you shyly show the driver your student ID before leading Suna down the aisle, his fingers interlacing with yours the moment you start to pull away.

He’s grinning to himself when you finally choose a seat. You roll your eyes but let him rest your hands in his lap. 

After a moment where he’s checking how many stops are left, he pulls out a pair of corded headphones, holding one out to you.

“Want me to show you my sick music taste?”

You laugh, thankful you’d chosen a seat in the back, because the way you’re looking up at him is nothing short of pathetic.

He unlocks his phone, but it opens immediately to a paused YouTube video of a famous Pokemon gamer streaming a playthrough. You lift your brows, staring up at Suna with knowing eyes. He flushes and hurries to close it out.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I was watching it on my walk over to calm my nerves.”

You giggle and point down to his screen. “Put it on, then.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, really,” you insist. “Put it on. I wanna watch it.”

He turns to you with wide eyes. “There’s no way in hell you want to watch this.”

You roll your eyes and take his phone, rewinding the video a bit and pressing play. You try to catch up with all the new information while Suna just stares down at you. You hum after a second.

“So, it’s a Nuzlocke?” 

He doesn’t answer you, only blurting out, “You’re the girl of my dreams”. You laugh, glancing around the crowded bus before shaking your head and returning to the video.

“Yeah, you mighta mentioned that once or twice.”

–

The wind is sharp out in the middle of the pumpkin patch, but you can’t tell if your cheeks are red and stinging from that or from the sheer force of smiling so much.

Suna makes you laugh like it’s his job. He whispers quick one-liners in your ear or into your hair, smiling against the crown of your head when you hide your grin behind your hand.

He treats you like a princess, holding your hand so you don’t trip on the vines and uneven ground while you pick out a pumpkin to take home. He carries everything for you, despite your complaints, and makes a point of still holding your hand. 

And when you finally manage to find a large tote bag to shove all your souvenirs into – designated home pumpkin, popcorn, apple cider donuts, and a variety of knick knacks – he all but fights you for possession of it in the middle of the gift shop. You let him win, and as a reward, he keeps his chest pressed against your back while you wait in line for a short hay ride, one hand – fingers cold and rings colder – pressed to your waist under your cardigan, your skin pebbling under his touch.

He leans down to listen to you talk about nothing in particular, and you wonder, as the line trudges slowly along, if he realizes that his other arm is wrapped tight around you, his thumb hooked through one of your belt loops. You wonder if he realizes that the quiet push and pull of mutual nerves that had kept its hold on you all day is finally falling away, his comfort shown in the way he grabs and holds you like you’re his.

You wouldn’t mind that so much.

You finally reach the front, and he helps you up onto the hay ride, the two of you finding a little spot in the corner. Suna sets your bag between his knees but lets it sit right on his feet, the cloth tote never touching the floor of the wagon. You hum, watching him do it.

“Do you have sisters?”

He blinks, glancing at you in surprise. “A younger one, yeah.”

“Are you close with her?”

He smiles, still confused. “Sometimes…?”

You just laugh, looking away and taking in the view outside the ride. “I can tell. You don’t let bags touch the floor.”

He glances down at his feet. “I-” He laughs. “She told me it was bad luck. Smacked me over the head with her purse once.”

You grin fully, your cheeks hurting again, and shake your head. “Not tryna risk any bad luck today, Rinnie?”

He barks out a laugh, hiding his face in your hair when a couple glances back in amusement.

“I’m still not sure how I got you to like me,” he whispers against you. “I’m not risking shit.”

The ride stops outside of a large corn maze, and other people file off of the wagon slowly. You wait until it’s nearly empty to stand, taking him with you, but you stop him from leaving, pulling him back quickly and rising onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear.

“You can afford to risk a little bit more.” 

And then you plant your lips on the corner of his mouth in a kiss so chaste that he barely has time to inhale before you’re gone. You hop off the ride on your own, taking off toward the maze. He calls after you loudly, laughing when you just disappear into a wall of corn.

You race through a whirlwind of corn stalks and trip over the uneven ground, hearing as Suna crashes into the maze behind you. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you lead him deeper into the middle of nowhere, accidentally scaring no fewer than three other groups of people and apologizing quietly while your name echoes behind you. 

You stop after a few minutes in a clearing, instantly regretting the decision to run and doing your best not to pass out right there. You barely hear him behind you, slowing to a stop and watching as you bend over to catch your breath.

“You lost, pretty girl?”

You jump, whirling on one foot, only to find Suna’s already crossed over to you. There’s a smudge of lipstick on the corner of his mouth.

“Okay, listen,” you start, laughing wildly as you back away. “Just listen for a sec-”

He grabs your outstretched hand and yanks you toward him, keeping you there with one arm wrapped around your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, smiling as you try to wriggle free. “That I should risk more?”

“Okay, listen-” you laugh, pushing your hands against his chest. “I was just playing around-”

Suna’s mouth on yours tells you that he’s not.

The chills start in the crown of your head and wash down over you in an instant. Your heart stops in your chest, and when it starts again, it’s everywhere, all at once. His lip ring is cold on your mouth, but his lips are so unbelievably warm. And when he pulls away just enough to whisper to you, his breath triggers every nerve ending in your body.

“Fuck,” he whispers, breath unsteady in his chest. Your head swims at the feeling of his heartbeat under your fingers. “Was that okay?”

You can only nod, your vision hazy and your mind completely blank. He shuffles against you harshly, and you realize belatedly that your bag had slipped off his shoulder and he’d fumbled to catch it.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Didn’t want to let it touch the ground.”

You stare up at him, wondering how you could have possibly gotten so lucky with Suna Rintarou.

You take his face in your hands, pushing your lips against his and swallowing the quiet whine he breathes into your mouth. 

He pulls you tight against him, and you push onto your tiptoes anytime he starts to lift too high, and he nearly drops you when you tug his lip ring between your teeth, your tongue passing nervously against it when he makes a sound that makes your toes curl. 

You only realize that maybe this isn’t totally appropriate for a family-friendly venue when you hear a family in the distance, trying to figure out the way out of the maze. You push against Suna’s chest, watching as he takes a moment longer to process what’s going on. When he does, all he can do is blink down at you dumbly. 

“Huh?” he breathes, face gradually burning a beautiful, rosy red that makes you want to do terrible things to this man.

You swallow your nerves.

“I think I’m ready to go,” you whisper, watching as confusion and then concern passes over his face. “If you’re ready to go.”

It clicks in an instant, and your heart skips when his eyes flick between yours before dropping to your lips, swollen and warm and completely his.

“Your place or mine?”

[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀LOVESTONED i⠀⋆⠀SIDNEY CROSBY.

pairing⠀⁎⠀sidney crosby x banker!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀9.7k.

summary⠀⁎⠀after your younger brother is drafted to the penguins, the only things keeping you from giving in to his captain's intensely magnetic gravitational pull are a busy work schedule and the plexiglass barrier between you.

author's note⠀⁎⠀part one of a multi-part series i'll come back to from time to time. warnings⠀⁎⠀18+ mdni, smut, fingering, blowjob, there's an age gap, but it's not the main focus, reader is an investment banker in her late 20s (not an important detail in this part)

Las Vegas was blindingly bright, even at night, the neon lights casting a colorful glow on the faces of the passersby. Since you touched down in Sin City the previous morning, you felt a permanent headache embed itself behind your eyes. You weren't used to the flashing billboards, the perpetual stream of music, or the heavy perfume of cigarette smoke that lingered in the air. The only thing keeping you going was the excitement of the NHL Entry Draft.

Your brother Isaac, the baby of the family, was up for selection. At nineteen, he was already taller than most of the other players, with the same rich brown skin and piercing gaze as your father. The teenager had spent the day in a dizzying round of interviews, meet-and-greets, and endless handshakes. But now, as you sat in the packed arena, the moment of truth was upon you.

You clutched your phone, scrolling through messages from friends and family, offering a silent prayer for Isaac's success. When the announcement came, the room erupted. Your heart soared as you watched your brother's name flash across the screen: the 5th overall pick for the Pittsburgh Penguins. The crowd roared, and your parents leaped to their feet, cheering and hugging. Isaac, dressed in a sharp suit that made him look far beyond his years, took the stage, beaming with pride and disbelief. He embraced the Penguins GM, donned the team cap, and smiled for the cameras.

"The Penguins. Geno Malkin, Kris Letang, and Sidney Crosby," your mother gushed, her eyes wide with excitement.

"He's shitting himself," your father added, chuckling. "Imagine playing alongside Crosby, the kid might not make it through the season without a fainting spell."

Isaac had grown up idolizing Sidney Crosby. Posters of the legendary player adorned his childhood walls, his stats taking up a permanent residence in the younger son's brain. Despite having been born the year Crosby was drafted, Isaac had studied every move, every play, every interview, dreaming of the day he finally worked hard enough to share the ice with his hero.

That day came, quick and highly anticipated, in Isaac's first practice as a Penguin. You dutifully indulged Isaac in his second-by-second retelling of every split second shared with the legend on the ice.

His starry-eyed account did little justice to the man that Sidney Crosby truly was in person. You had to admit, watching the legend in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. Your first home game in attendance left you in awe of the team's dynamic, especially Sidney's unrivaled skill. You found yourself looking for him on the ice, your eyes tracing the path of the puck as he weaved through the opposing team's defense with an elegance that seemed almost supernatural.

It was at the Family Skate that you finally had the chance to meet him. The rink buzzed with excitement, the clang of skates and the echo of laughter reverberating through the cavernous space. You held onto the bar, your legs wobbly from nerves and inexperience. You hadn't been on the ice since you were a teenager. Isaac was more than critical of your form, offering unsolicited advice that you mostly ignored.

"You're embarrassing me," Isaac called out to you, a hint of amusement in his voice. You shot him a glare before your skate caught a rut in the ice.

"Shut up, give me a second to remember how to do this," you called back, trying to balance yourself. You finally found your center of gravity, huffing as you looped your arm in Isaac's. "If I go down, I'm taking you with me."

Isaac just grinned, his teeth flashing in the bright arena lights. "Careful, might trip on your ego," he teased before pushing off to increase your glide, laughing as you swatted at him.

It was during one of these wobbly attempts to keep up with your brother that you collided with a solid mass. Your skates scraped against the ice, kicking up a spray that momentarily panicked you. Strong hands caught you before you could face-plant into the frozen surface. You looked up into the surprised, yet amused eyes of Sidney Crosby. His grip was firm, his smile even more disarming in person than it was in the countless magazine covers and commercials you'd seen.

His eyes crinkled at the edges, gifting his sharp, angled edges a hint of softness that wasn't usually captured by the cameras. Your heart stuttered in your chest. "You okay?" he asked, his accent thick, comforting, utterly overwhelming as it filled the space between you.

"Yeah," you managed, your voice shakier than your legs had been a second ago. "Thanks. I'm so sorry, I haven't skated in forever."

Sidney chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate in the very air around you. "It's alright, I've had worse spills on this ice." He seemed to hesitate before letting you go, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary.

"You gonna introduce me to your sister, rook?" Authority leaked into his tone, coloring his words with a playful assertion that, admittedly, made your head spin.

"Oh, right," Isaac said. He looked from Sidney to you. "Sid, this is my sister, Y/N."

Sidney offered his hand, a gesture that seemed almost too formal amidst the casual setting. You took it, your palm fitting snugly into his much larger one. His grip was firm but gentle as he helped you regain your balance. A jolt shot through your limbs at the contact, further liquefying your already compromised resolve. You could feel your cheeks warm under the weight of his gaze, your eyes flickering to the logo emblazoned on his jersey.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Sidney said, his voice curling softly around the syllables as they left his mouth.

You managed a nod, the heat from his touch lingering. "It's an honor."

"I gotta go rescue Mom. Just keep it together, I'm trying to maintain a reputation," Isaac whispered to you before skating off towards your mother, who was clinging to your father's arm like a lifeline on the unsteady ice.

Sidney watched him go, a laugh erupting through his chest and shaking his shoulders. "He's a good kid. Got a nice head on his shoulders, eh?"

You poked your tongue at your cheek as you focused on not falling over again. "Yeah, he's a good kid. It's nice that we're living together again. I missed him when I went off to college."

Sidney nodded. "So, you're older, then?"

You smirked. "By a few years, yeah. I'm twenty-eight."

Sidney's gaze grew contemplative, the back of his hand gently brushing against yours as you swayed on the ice. "Twenty-eight, huh?" he murmured. "I'd never have guessed."

You raised an eyebrow. "In a good way or a bad way?"

Sidney smirked. "In a nice, neutral kinda way." His eyes swept over your side profile. There was a flirtatious air to the conversation that seemed to thicken the cold air around you.

He was magnetic. All broad shoulders and confidence, his movements on the ice so fluid it was like watching poetry in motion. There was a pull in his gaze, an ease to his questions as if he were made to charm the answers right out of you.

For all his magnetism, there was acute awareness of the eyes. Thousands of fans peered down at you from the stands, their conversations carrying like the rustle of leaves in a breeze. You weren't speaking about anything of particular importance, but you felt as if you were under a microscope. The thought was thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. You didn't dare linger too long, didn't dare to move any closer to him for fear of what it might imply. Sidney seemed unfazed by the scrutiny, his gaze focused squarely on you as you skated in slow, easy circles.

"You've got a good stride," he said, his voice a slow rumble. "You're a natural."

You laughed. "Hardly. I'm trying my best not to make a fool of myself out here."

Sidney's smile grew wider. "Well, compared to your mom, I'd say you're doing pretty well." He cast a glance over his shoulder where, sure enough, your mother was flailing about on the ice with a grace that suggested she'd been meant to keep her feet firmly on the ground. You couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

"Still, I think I should try and get some more practice before you start calling me a natural," you said. You couldn't help the slow rise of warmth in your chest when your eyes met his again. You had to stop skating soon, you knew. The ice was crowded, and you were all too aware that any moment could be the one where someone decided you had been talking for too long to be an innocent conversation.

"Well, I'd love to see you again. It's nice to see fresh faces around here." It was simple and casual, but the way Sidney's eyes held yours made your stomach flip. You nodded, your smile feeling a bit too wide as you watched him skate away.

From that moment, you were hooked.

You found yourself attending every home game you could, your eyes drawn to Sidney's movements on the ice like a moth to a flame. In the crowded family section, you’d spot him, and you’d exchange glances here, a smile there. The air grew charged with a tension that made your pulse quicken. You flirted from afar, all smoldering looks and casual touches, leaving you breathless.

The Penguins' holiday party was in full swing, the guests buzzing with laughter and conversation. Isaac insisted on taking you after mentioning it was mildly upsetting to see his older sister with no plans. You relented, quite easily, with a pinch to his side. The party was a blur of faces, mostly teammates and their significant others, and the occasional awkward encounter with your brother's new teammates.

Sidney spotted you from across the room, his gaze lingering for a beat too long before he excused himself from his conversation with Rust. You felt his hand on your elbow, turning you to face him, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin. "Hey, it's good to see you out of the stands."

The smile that bloomed on your face was almost involuntary. "Isaac dragged me with him, kicking and screaming," you teased, taking him in as he stood before you. Those familiar crinkles around his eyes had deepened with age, adding a depth to his handsome features that had only grown more appealing with time.

"I'm sure he did," Sidney said, his voice low and playful. The party was in full swing, the air thick with the smell of pine and spiced cider. Lights twinkled from the ceiling, casting a warm glow on the faces of the players and their families. The music played in the background, a mix of Christmas classics and modern hits that seemed to be on an endless loop. "I'm glad you came."

He began to move, feet shuffling slowly as if he expected you to follow. You found yourself doing just that, your nerves spiking for a moment before catching the softest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips. "Have you had something to drink?" he asked as you made your way to the bar.

"Oh, I'm not drinking tonight. I'll probably be driving Isaac home," you nodded toward your younger brother, who was busy charming a group of women nearby, a cup of watered-down eggnog in his hand.

Sidney nodded. "Fair enough. Water for you, then?"

"That’d be great, thanks," you replied, your eyes following Isaac as he regaled the group with some story you'd heard a hundred times before. You felt a warmth beside you, a comfort that was entirely unfamiliar yet somehow welcome. Sidney leaned against the bar, both elbows propping him up as he ordered drinks for you. He was dressed casually, a stark contrast to his usual game-day attire. The sight of him in a simple black sweater and jeans made him seem more approachable, less like a hockey god and more like a man you could actually get to know.

You talked about the game, the upcoming schedule, and your favorite holiday traditions. The conversation flowed naturally, a dance of words that kept the tension simmering just below the surface. You felt like you could listen to Sidney's voice all night, the way it wrapped around every word like a warm blanket.

By the time the drinks really started flowing, you found yourselves tucked away into a dimmer corner. You stood chest to chest, leaning a shoulder against the wallpapered wall of the private room reserved for the party. You felt the weight of his gaze, the way heat rolled off of Sidney’s body, the way he seemed to edge closer to you with every sip of his drink. His hand dangled close to yours, so close you were sure that if you just extended your fingers a smidge, they’d brush together.

But it was his words that had your pulse racing. They’d turned flirty, playful, and you found yourself matching his tone, playing along as if you were in a secret club of two. The conversation grew more intimate, more personal, until you were sharing whispers with an undertone of attraction that seemed too raw to be uttered in such a public space.

"I've noticed you at the games," Sidney said, his eyes scanning the room before returning to yours. "You get pretty into it. There's a lot of passion hidden under there." He motioned toward you, his words accentuated by a chuckle that made your knees wobble.

"I'm a pretty passionate person," you admitted, your voice a soft murmur against the background chatter. You took a sip of your non-alcoholic eggnog, the sweetness coating your tongue. You felt Sidney's hand brush against yours, a gesture so subtle you might’ve imagined it.

"I'd love to see more of that passion," Sidney said, his eyes darkening. "Maybe even get to know it better, up close? I could use more passion."

Your eyebrow quirked up, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. You were playing with fire, you knew, but you couldn't help yourself. He was just too tempting, too close, too everything you'd ever wanted. "I think that could be arranged," you replied.

A strong hand reached out, finding your hip, searing heat into your skin through the fabric of your red dress. His thumb drew lazy circles that made your stomach somersault. "I can work with that," Sidney murmured, his voice dropping lower in your ear. "We can talk more, just the two of us."

Every bit of you was straining to retain composure. The hand on your hip, the heat of his body, so close you could feel it through his clothes—it was too much. Your mind was racing, trying to grasp the reality of the moment. This wasn’t a distant crush anymore; it was a tangible invitation, a possibility laid out before you. "Where would we go?" you managed to ask, your voice breathier than you would have liked.

Sidney leaned in, his breath a warm whisper against your neck. "Somewhere quiet, where we can actually hear each other." His hand squeezed your hip gently, urging you closer. His eyes half-lidded, he searched your gaze, looking for any hint of hesitation. You felt the world around you fade away, the music and chatter of the party a distant echo in your ears. The only thing that mattered was the magnetic pull between you, the electric current that seemed to arc through the air.

You couldn't respond, your hand reaching up to travel over his forearm and curl over his bicep. Your pulse hammered in your throat. You were still in public, surrounded by his teammates and their families, yet it felt like you were the only two people in the room. "I'd like that," you murmured, your voice a mere breath.

There was a pull between you, like gravity had decided you were the only two stars in the sky. You felt your body leaning into Sidney’s touch, your hand tightening around his arm, drawing him closer. The air was thick with anticipation, and you could see in his eyes that he felt it too. He leaned in, your faces so close you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, and whispered, "Come back to my place."

As if sensing your internal struggle, Sidney’s hand tightened around your hip. "He won’t think too hard of it. Tell him you found a ride home." The tip of his nose nudged against the line of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. You swallowed hard, trying to process what was happening. It was difficult, almost impossible to think straight with Sidney’s body heat surrounding you, his hand caressing your skin, his breath tickling your ear.

You swallowed deeply, your eyes closing for a brief second. When you opened them, you saw the sincerity in Sidney’s gaze, the hopefulness that made your heart flutter. You nodded, the decision made before you could second-guess yourself. "Okay, I’ll go find him."

There was an authority to the curt nod Sidney gave you that sent a thrill down your spine. You took a deep breath and pushed away from the wall, smoothing your dress as you made your way over to where Isaac was still holding court with Rutger in tow, both of them laughing at something you hadn’t heard. "Isaac," you called out, tapping his shoulder blade, "I'm gonna head home. I’ve got a headache."

Your brother spared you a brief glance. "Are you taking the car?"

"No," you said, your voice steady despite the tremble in your hands. "I found a ride. I’ll see you at home." You didn’t dare look at Sidney, who was now watching you with a smoldering gaze from across the room. You knew if you did, you might just forget your words and drag him out of the party right then and there.

Just as Sidney had promised, Isaac didn’t think twice about the excuse. With a simple, "Text me when you get home. I’ll crash with Rut," he turned back to his conversation, leaving your heart racing and your mind reeling. You turned back to Sidney, who was watching you with a knowing smile, his eyes holding the slightest bit of I told you so in them. You took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, feeling his hand slip around your waist and pull you into his side.

You left the party with the same ease that you'd arrived, blending into the cool winter night like shadows. His car was sleek, with dark paint that reflected the lights of the city as you sped away from the arena. Inside, the leather seats were warm, and the music was low. His hand found your thigh, slowly creeping higher, making you squirm with anticipation.

"Sensitive," he murmured, his thumb moving in gentle circles on your thigh. "I like that." His voice was a warm caress, sending a shiver down your spine.

You bit your lip in an effort to suppress the whine that threatened to escape. You had never been one to handle teasing well, and Sidney seemed to have a keen sense for it. You leaned into him, your hand coming to rest over his hand. "You're terrible," you said with a shaky laugh.

Sidney smirked, his eyes staying glued to the road. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he assured you, his voice low and husky. The drive to his place was a blur of anticipation and excitement. Your heart felt like it might burst from your chest as you felt his hand move higher up your leg, his fingertips grazing the hem of your panties.

It was maddening, the way you could feel your pulse racing, your breath coming in shallow gasps, while Sidney remained so calm and composed, navigating the car through the quiet streets just outside of Pittsburgh. Your hand tightened on his, silently begging for more, but he was in control, master of the slow burn, and you knew it.

The moment they crossed the threshold of Sidney's home, the dam of your restrained desire burst. You were on each other, kisses deep and hungry, his hands mapping the curves of your body as you clawed at his clothes. Your breaths came out in pants as Sidney's strong hands cupped your ass, lifting you against his body, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"God," you gasped as Sidney pressed you against a wall, his mouth moving to your neck, kissing and licking at the sensitive skin there. Your legs tightened around his waist, your black high heels glossy under the dim lights of his hallway, as you tried to get as close to him as you could. His hands roamed up your body, squeezing at your breasts over your dress and making your nipples peak.

"Perfect fuckin' tits," Sidney groaned into your neck, his voice thick with lust. His hands found the straps of your dress and with one deft move, he had it pooling around your waist. You gasped as his thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of your breasts, the coolness of the air contrasting with the heat of his touch. His head dipped to kiss the plush fat of your cleavage, making your hips rock against his growing erection.

He palmed one of your breasts, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it pebbled under his fingertips, making you whine with need. "Please," you whispered, your voice needy and desperate. Sidney chuckled darkly, his eyes meeting yours, filled with a fiery passion you hadn't seen before.

"Sensitive and eager," Sidney murmured against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck before he captured your mouth in a searing kiss that made your toes curl in your heels. His hands slid over your hips, holding you in place as he ground his clothed cock against you. Your moan was muffled by his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you tried to pull him even closer. The kiss grew wilder, his tongue delving deep, tasting you, claiming you in the most primal way.

Your entire body burned as if dipped in fire, your breaths grew erratic as Sidney's hand traveled up your side, slipping beneath your bra to cup your bare breast fully. He pinched the nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and you gasped, arching into his touch. The pressure built inside you, coiling tighter with every stroke of his hand.

He broke the kiss to look at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "You're so beautiful," he said, his voice a gravelly whisper. You felt a rush of arousal creep up your neck, your eyes fluttering shut as his mouth found yours again, his tongue demanding entry. You gave it eagerly, your kisses growing more frantic as Sidney's hand continued to torment your sensitive flesh.

His fingertips were incessant, playing with your nipple until it was a tight, aching peak. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your panties damp with need. "Fuck, I'm so wet," you breathed against his mouth, the words barely audible. "Please, Sidney."

With a low growl, Sidney carried you to the bedroom, not bothering to break your kiss. He laid you down gently on the bed, his hands moving to your hips to remove your dress completely. The cool air hit your bare skin, making you shiver as he stepped back to admire you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the hunger in Sidney's gaze made you feel a certain security.

"This fuckin' body, my god," Sidney murmured, his eyes raking over you like a brand as you lay on his bed, your dress discarded on the floor. You watched him, your own eyes hooded with desire, as he stripped his own clothes away with an urgency that matched yours. His body was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew, a testament to the hours he dedicated to his sport, and you couldn't wait to feel it against your own.

A muscled knee pressed into the white sheets, and Sidney's body hovered over yours, the weight of his desire as palpable as the tension in the air. His hand slid up your thigh, the roughness of his calloused fingers making you quiver. You reached up, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs before moving to his shoulders, urging him closer. His eyes locked on yours, Sidney leaned in, capturing your mouth in a fiery kiss that sent waves of heat through your tummy.

Both of his hands found your hips, squeezing tightly, his thumbs digging into the flesh as he broke the kiss and moved lower. You watched, your breaths coming in fast pants, as Sidney kissed a trail down your neck, across your collarbones, down the center of your chest, until he reached your breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth, suckling it hard, making your back arch and a cry escape your throat. The sensation was intense, and you could feel the wetness between your legs growing.

With a wicked grin, Sidney reached for the edge of your panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them aside. He hovered over you, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of your spread before him. "You're fuckin' perfect," Sidney murmured, his voice thick with need. Tentatively, you reached down to touch yourself, your fingertips finding your slick folds.

"Let me," Sidney said, his voice a command you couldn't resist. He pushed your hand aside, his own hand taking over, his fingers sliding into your wetness with ease. Your eyes rolled back as he began to stroke your clit, your body arching off the bed. The tension grew tighter, the need more urgent as it crested; deep, sweet agony building in your pussy.

"Please," you sighed, your voice dipping into a desperate whisper, your hips rising to meet his hand. Sidney didn't relent, his touch unyielding as he pushed you closer to the edge. "Oh, fuck," you moaned, your legs trembling, toes curling into the sheets.

He watched you, his eyes dark with desire, as you grew wetter, your body begging for his touch. When he finally slid two fingers inside you, your eyes snapped open, the pleasure so intense it was almost painful. You bit your lip to keep from screaming, your nails digging into the bed as Sidney began to pump his fingers in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm that had your body singing with need.

"You're so wet," Sidney murmured against your skin, the words sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers plunged deeper, hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back. He curled his fingers, stroking your G-spot, and you couldn't help but let out a guttural moan. Your hips bucked against his hand, your body demanding more.

"Talk to me, princess. Tell me what you want from me. You know I'll give it to you. Whatever you want, sweets," Sidney rasped, his voice a low, needy growl that made your skin tingle. You couldn't form coherent words, so you did the next best thing: you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, silently begging for his cock to fill you up. The pressure of his fingers inside you was exquisite, but you needed more of him, all of him.

He took the hint, his eyes never leaving yours as he slid his fingers out, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. His fingers were slick, coated in your desire, and he brought them to his mouth, tasting you. The sight of it had your walls clenching, your body begging for more. "So sweet," he murmured, before climbing over you. Your fingers dipped into the waistband of his underwear, tugging slightly as your hips rocked upward, urging him closer.

Sidney chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Fuckin' desperate, eh? Give me a second, princess." He leaned in, kissing you deeply, teasingly, until you were practically vibrating with need. His tongue pressed against yours, sucking your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, saliva and moans exchanged between you two. You couldn't be patient, not when he was driving you to the brink like this.

Your thighs were spread wide to accommodate his broad, muscular body, and when Sidney's cock finally nudged at your entrance, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips. He was so hard, so thick, and you were beyond ready for him. The anticipation was agonizing, and you could feel your body clench around his length as he continued his movements, his cock pulsing against your walls, pushing inch by glorious inch. The stretch was heavenly, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he filled you completely.

Fingers clawed into his hair, you pulled Sidney down for another deep, needy kiss as he pushed into you. The sensation was overwhelming. He groaned against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you as he buried himself fully inside you. He paused, letting you adjust to the feeling of him inside you, before pulling back to look at your face.

"Tell me when," he murmured, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek as your eyes remained locked. You took a deep, shaky breath, feeling the tension coil inside you. "Now," you whispered, your voice thin and urgent. "Please."

Sidney didn't need any more encouragement. He began to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm that had your eyes fluttering shut. Each stroke was pure pleasure, a symphony of sensations that had you tightening your grip on him, your legs wrapping tighter around his waist. He was deep, so deep, filling you so fully, buried to the absolute hilt.

His nose nudged against yours, moans and grunts spilling out of your mouths. Sidney's strokes grew stronger, more demanding, as he claimed your body as his own. Your eyes remained squeezed shut, your body tightening around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you felt the high begin to build.

"Look at me," Sidney growled, his voice thick with lust. Your eyes snapped open, meeting his intense gaze. If it wasn't already clear, in that moment, you would never be able to get enough of him. You watched as he thrust into you, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort of holding back. "Keep 'em on me, baby. Wanna hear your sweet moans, see your gorgeous eyes roll back when I fuck you just right."

Your breath hitched as he sped up, each thrust hitting that perfect spot, your walls clenching around him like a vise. You could feel the heat building, the pressure growing, and you knew you were close. "Sid," you panted, your voice breathless and desperate.

"Good, huh?" Sidney smirked. There was that edge in his voice, an intimate alternative to the chirps you had seen on the ice too many times to count. It was cocky. It was smug. It was intoxicating.

You nodded, your mouth too busy whimpering and panting to form words. You felt the orgasm approaching, a fiery heat that threatened to consume you, and you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

"So good... you're so good, fuck, Sid," you moaned out, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation as the pressure inside you grew to an unbearable buzz.

Sidney's eyes stayed on you, the intensity in his gaze only increasing as he thrust into you, pushing you closer to the edge. "You're soaked, baby," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire. "Need me to lose my fucking mind, don't you?"

You giggled, breathless, pitched up into a whiny moan as Sidney's mouth found your neck, kissing and suckling, leaving a mark that you knew would be visible tomorrow. "That was the plan," you hummed, your nails digging into his shoulders. His hips rocked into you, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the warmth of his body pressing into yours.

You were pinned to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as the two of you moved together, your bodies a tangled mess of passion and need. Your breath grew shallower, your moans growing louder as Sidney's hips moved faster, each thrust hitting your sweet spot.

"Hold on, wanna see your face," you whispered gently, attempting to pull your hands from his. He tightened his grip for a moment, hesitating then releasing, allowing you to slide your palms up his side, feeling his obliques and shoulder blades, before finding his jaw, your thumb tracing the line of his strong jaw. You pulled him down, your eyes locking again, Sidney's hips stuttering as your mouths collided, tongues dancing together in a fiery tango of passion.

"Christ," Sidney huffed out when he pulled away, catching your heated gaze, your eyes filled with lust and love. The way you touched him, the way you watched him, it was dizzying. He leaned down, kissing you again, feeling you shiver underneath him as he picked up his pace.

"Sid, baby, your eyes, wanna see your eyes," you whined, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth. He groaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before he complied, his gaze locking with yours again. Your eyes were dark with passion, your pupils dilated with desire.

"Don't," he laughed, the sound full of air and strain as he kissed you again, his tongue flicking against your bottom lip before delving back in. "Don't whine like that. I'm trying not to cum before you do. Trying to be chivalrous."

That drew another laugh from you, the sound music to Sidney's ears, especially in the throes of passion. He leaned down, kissing you again, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you squirming beneath him. Your nails dug into his skin, your legs tightening around his waist as you grew closer to the edge. You were so beautiful like this, lost in pleasure, your body responding to his every touch.

"I really don't think that would be the worst thing in the world. Think it'd be kinda hot, honestly," you said with a giggle, your eyes filling with that earlier mischief. "But if that's what you need from me, I'll give you that."

"Yeah? You'll give me that?" Sidney chuckled, his strokes growing more deliberate, snapping into you with more force.

"I'll give you anything," you promised, your voice a breathy whisper that sent a shiver down Sidney's spine. "Swear," you added, your hips rising to meet his, urging him to go deeper, faster.

"Anything, huh," he hummed, thinking for a moment before his eyes lit up, pulling out slowly with a hiss. "Get on top, princess. Want to watch you ride me." Your cheeks flamed, but you didn't argue; instead, you shifted your body, sliding off the bed and straddling him. His cock stood tall, the length glistening with your combined arousal, his tip pulsing with need.

He gripped the base of his shaft, his chest, red and slick with sweat, rising and falling rapidly. You took a moment to appreciate the sight of him, his desire for you so evident. Salt and pepper hair was tousled, a singular curl falling over his forehead, also slick with sweat. You leaned forward, your breasts brushing against his chest, and just barely brushed his lips with yours. Your hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it to your entrance, and with a gasp, you sunk down onto him, slowly filling yourself up completely.

You braced yourself with one hand on his chest, the other gripping the headboard as you began to grind your hips cautiously. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you was exquisite, dragging against your walls so deliciously you couldn't help but let out a low moan. Sidney watched you, his eyes dark with need as he bit his lip, his hands on your hips, guiding your movements.

"Oh my god," Sidney groaned as you started to move, your hips rolling in a sensual dance that had him gritting his teeth. You were so fucking beautiful from this angle, your body moving above him, your tits bouncing slightly with each rock of your hips. He watched you, his eyes greedy, as you began to move faster, your breaths growing more erratic.

His hands were equally greedy, squeezing your hips, drifting up to your breasts, leaning forward to kiss your collarbone. You threw your head back, your eyes closing in bliss as Sidney's teeth grazed the sensitive skin there. "Oh fuck," you gasped, your movements becoming more erratic as you chased the orgasm you could feel building.

You bounced on top of him, a rhythmic clap of your ass against his thighs that had Sidney's eyes rolling back in his head. He could feel you tighten around him, your pussy squeezing his cock like a fist. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, his thumbs digging into your hips before he wrapped his arms around your midsection, pressing your chest to his.

"Is this good for you?" you panted, your eyes meeting his, your nose brushing against his as you just barely pressed your lips to his.

"You're doing perfect," Sidney murmured, his voice strained. He could feel the tension coiling in his balls, his orgasm just out of reach. "Just keep riding me like that," he encouraged. "Make yourself cum. Just like that."

You swallowed hard, your breathing growing increasingly more shallow as you picked up your pace. Your eyes remained locked with Sidney's, the passion in his gaze fueling your desire. You felt his hands slip from your hips to your thighs then your ass, squeezing and guiding your movements, pushing you down onto him as you bounced atop him with a desperate hunger.

"You were dreaming about this, weren't you?" Sidney pressed, still pulling you down onto his cock with a firm, demanding pressure that made you gasp. "Dreaming about me fucking you senseless," he whispered against your neck, his breath hot and heavy. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure took over your body. "Dreaming about dripping all over me," he added, his hands sliding up your body to palm your tits.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your breath hitching as Sidney's thumbs found your nipples. "Yeah," you managed to moan out, your hips grinding against him. He groaned in response, his own desire for you reaching a boiling point. "Wanted you to do this so bad," you whispered, your voice shaky. "Every fucking night, I'd think about you like this," you admitted, your cheeks heating with embarrassment at the admission, but you didn't stop moving. "Feel so good."

"Look how easy it was to make you mine," Sidney murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Couldn't resist, could you?"

You felt a thrill run through you at his words, your body responding with a shiver. "Could you blame me?" you replied, your voice low and filled with desire. You leaned in to kiss him deeply, your tongue tangling with his as you continued to rock your hips against his. "Fit so perfectly," you whispered against his mouth, your arms falling over his broad shoulders, pulling at the dark hair at the base of his neck.

"Take my cock so well, so goddamn pretty taking cock," Sidney murmured, his hands squeezing handfuls of your tits, sending waves of pleasure straight to your core. Your eyes rolled back in your head, your hips moving faster, your breaths coming in gasps and pants. The friction was building, the heat growing more intense with every stroke.

"Sid," you whined, feeling yourself teeter on the edge of a cliff, the orgasm threatening to break free. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum," you managed to get out, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip to stifle the scream that was threatening to escape.

"Don't get quiet on me now," Sidney urged, his voice a gruff, low hum in the quiet of the room. "I want to hear every fucking sound you make."

You bit your lip harder, your eyes staring into his. "Can't help it," you panted, your body tightening around his cock. "It's so good, you feel so good, Sid."

Sidney's grip on you tightened, his own pleasure spiking at your words. He watched you, the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you in place, allowing him to drive into you with more force. "You should tell me where you want me," he muttered, his back falling against the bed as he thrusted up into you.

You moaned, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the first waves of pleasure wash over you. "Pull out," you suggested, your voice almost a plea. "I'll let you cum in my mouth." Sidney's eyes snapped open at your words, and he groaned, the image in his mind sending him closer to the edge.

"Fuck," Sidney growled as he felt the tightness of your pussy start to pulse around his cock.

When it finally hit you, your mind went blank, your chest falling forward, hands gripping the sheets tightly as you let out a long, keening cry of pure ecstasy. Your pussy clenched around Sidney's cock, your muscles pulsing in a way that had him groaning deeply, his own release just a heartbeat away. He watched you come undone, your body shuddering with pleasure, your face a picture of rapture.

"Okay?" he asked, his hips still moving, albeit much slower, his cock still buried deep inside you.

"Mmhmm," you murmured, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. You felt the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through your body, making you tremble slightly. "Wanna taste you."

You slowly lifted yourself off him, your legs shaking slightly from the intensity of your climax. He watched you, his chest heaving, as you took him in your mouth, your lips sliding down his shaft with an ease that made him groan. "Fuck, there you go," Sidney murmured, his eyes rolling back in his head. "So good at that."

Your mouth was hot and wet, your tongue swirling around him as you bobbed up and down. Filthy slurps and moans filled the room, each sound making Sidney's jaw tick and his hands tighten in the sheets. He watched you, the way you took him in with such focus, your cheeks hollowing as you took him deeper, your throat tightening around his cock as you swallowed him down.

You stroked what couldn't fit in your mouth, your hand moving in time with your bobbing head. Your eyes flicked up to meet Sidney's, and you saw the unbridled need reflected in his gaze. You moaned around his cock, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through his body. "Shit, yes," he hissed, his hips jerking upward to meet your mouth.

Your eyes watered slightly from the effort, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of him in your mouth, his taste, and the way he responded to your every move. You sucked harder, your cheeks hollowing, and Sidney's moans grew louder. "Keep going," he breathed, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, gently pushing you down further.

You could feel his cock pulse, his pre-cum coating your tongue as you swirled it around his mushroom-shaped tip. You could see it in the tension in his body, the way his abdomen clenched, and his chest heaved. You worked him harder, your hand moving in a firm, steady grip, matching the pace of your mouth.

Your eyes met his, the final strokes of your hand, and the suction of your mouth too much for Sidney to handle. With a long groan, he came, his hot, slightly bitter cum filling your mouth as you eagerly swallowed, not wanting to miss a drop. Your eyes watered, but you kept your gaze locked with Sidney's, watching the pleasure etched into his features as he rode out his climax. When he was done, you pulled off with a soft pop, licking your lips clean, your thumb catching remnants that had escaped to the corner of your mouth.

Sidney's chest heaved as he stared at you, his eyes glazed over with a mix of lust and admiration. "Jesus, princess," he murmured, his hand falling to the side of your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You grinned up at him, a smug satisfaction in your gaze. "You're something else."

You leaned over him, his arms reaching to bracket your waist, pulling you closer as your lips connected. The taste of him, his tongue, his cum still rested on your tongue, mingling with the faint taste of your on his. A warmth washed over you, tingling in your bones, settling over you like a warm blanket.

You felt something shift in you. That feeling of getting what you've wanted, what you've plotted on, and realizing the reality was a hundred times better than the fantasy. Sidney's arms were tight around you, holding you close as you kissed, his hands moving over your body, feeling your curves and exploring every inch of you as if it was the first time he had felt you.

You pulled away first, laughing under your breath when he chased your lips. His pupils were blown, his eyes hazed with satisfaction. "How was that?" you teased, licking your lips clean, wiping the corners of his mouth with the pads of your fingers.

He gently grasped your wrist, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist. "Amazing," Sidney murmured, trailing his kisses up your arm, to your neck, and finally delivering the ghost of a peck to your parted lips. "Let me take care of you, yeah?" he whispered against your skin. "I'll get a washrag, something warm to wear, and then we'll talk."

You nodded, sighing into the kiss he pressed to your lips before he rose from his bed. His bare backside was a sight to behold as he walked into the bathroom, soft skin marked by tan lines and muscles flexing with every step. You couldn't help but watch him go, a small smile playing at your mouth. When he returned with a warm washrag, you took it from his hand and cleaned yourself up, feeling the tension in your body start to ease. He disappeared then reappeared, handing you a clean t-shirt and sweatpants that were definitely his, smelled like his, and draped over your body like his.

Sidney slid into the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you settled into the warmth of his embrace. He kissed the top of your head, and you felt his heart beating steadily under your ear. "I don't want to scare you," he began, his voice a soft rumble, "but I think we need to talk."

Your stomach twisted slightly. "We should," you agreed, biting your bottom lip as you sat up. You couldn't ignore the butterflies in your stomach that grew more frantic with every second that ticked by. "What are you thinking?" you asked.

Sidney took a deep breath, his arms tightening around you. He leaned back against the headboard, taking a moment to choose his words. "I'm thinking that I want us to be on the same page. This can't just be about sex. I don't… I'm not built for casual." He paused, letting the admission linger in the air. "I'm not that young anymore, and I've realized that I don't want to just kill my time with hookups. It doesn't have to be forever, but I want it to mean something."

You nodded, your voice earnest, your heart pounding. "I can understand that, but as much as I'd love to dive into something more, I have to think about Isaac. I don't want to mess up his career or his relationship with you." You chewed on your bottom lip before continuing, "He idolizes you, Sid. He's idolized you his whole life, literally." You laughed uneasily, trying to lighten the mood. "I'd hate to ruin his perception of you."

Sidney took your hand, threading his fingers through yours. "Isaac's an adult. And if he's as good a man as I think he is, he'll want his sister to be happy." His thumb stroked the back of your hand. "We'll take it slow. Keep it between us. Figure it out together." He nuzzled his nose into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. "One date at a time, yeah?"

You felt a weight lift off your shoulders. "One date at a time," you echoed, shyly smiling into his embrace.

One date at a time seemed easy at the time, but the moment you stepped into that one date, it never seemed to end. Every free moment was stolen away, every glance turned into a touch, every whisper turned into a kiss. You were a secret wrapped in whispers and hidden glances, a love affair that burned hotter than the lights in the arena. You had agreed to keep it on the down-low, take things slow, but your hearts had other plans.

Your first official date was at a discreet little Italian restaurant that Sidney had picked out, a place where you could be yourselves without the prying eyes of fans or the media. You wore a simple but elegant black dress that hugged your curves, making Sidney's heart race the moment you walked in. He had chosen a tailored suit that made him look every bit the professional athlete that he was, but when he saw you, all he could think about was you peeling it off of him later.

And you did, peel the suit off him later. In the quiet sanctuary of his home, you shed your layers of clothing like armor, revealing the softness that lay beneath. The chemistry between you was palpable, a living force that seemed to have a mind of its own. You kissed as if you were starving for each other, as if each touch could somehow sustain you. Sidney's hands roamed over your body, memorizing every curve, every dip, and valley that made you uniquely you. You felt like you were coming alive under his touch, as if you had been a dormant volcano and he had sparked the fire within you.

He made a habit of picking you up for lunch—even if all you could afford was 45 minutes—waiting in his dark car with the tinted windows a block from your office. You would go inside, pick up the food he ordered, and you'd eat in the car between kisses. At your place, he'd sneak in when Isaac was out with friends, leaving in the morning before the sun could cast shadows that would give you away. You danced around the truth, whispering sweet nothings that held the weight of your future together.

But secrets are like soap in water, they spread wide and fast.

"And I think I'll have the Eggs Benedict with the blackberry lemonade," you told the waiter, handing over your menu to the young man who nodded with a light smile. Your family brunch was in full swing, it had become a monthly tradition since Isaac had been drafted to the Penguins and joined you in Pittsburgh.

Your parents, beaming with pride, talked about their recent vacation plans while Isaac scarfed down his breakfast, his focus on the mountain of food on his plate rather than the conversation. You felt a flutter of anxiety in your stomach, knowing that dreaded topic of conversation would come up eventually. Your mother was the first to ask that dread question, "And what about you, love bug? You've been so busy with work, you hardly have time to breathe, let alone date."

You took a sip of your lemonade, trying to play it cool, "I've been keeping pretty busy. Just enjoying life for what it is right now." You hoped your nonchalance would be enough to dodge the question. But your mother wasn't one to be easily swayed.

"You're twenty-eight," your father said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "You don't have to pretend you've never had a date. We know you've had your share of boys in your life."

"Dad," you sighed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you shot a look at Isaac, hoping for some kind of support. But your brother just sat there, chewing on his toast with a smug look on his face. You could almost hear him thinking, could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

"Well?" your father prompted, his curiosity piqued.

"Well, nothing," you said, playing it off, trying to keep your voice steady. "There's nothing going on right now."

Isaac looked up from his plate, his eyes meeting yours. He took a deep breath, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Liar," he accused, his voice teasing but his gaze unwavering. Your heart stopped for a second, your grip on your fork tightening. "You're dating someone," he said matter-of-factly, swallowing his bite of food. "You've been dating someone for a while."

Your parents looked between you, eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity. Your mind raced, trying to come up with an explanation that wouldn't involve lying to your family, but also wouldn't reveal the truth you weren't ready to share. "Isaac," you hissed under your breath, your eyes wide with panic.

He leaned back in his chair, his smirk growing. "Dude, I'm fuckin’ ecstatic for you. You’ve been less of a hard ass, I’ll take my wins."

"Aw, love bug," your mother cooed, reaching to squeeze your hand. "Why haven't you told us?" You felt your face grow hotter as you tried to think of a way out of the situation.

"How do you even know that?" you demanded, your voice low enough so only your immediate family could hear.

Isaac's smirk grew into a full-blown grin as he shrugged. "'Cause I have eyes, and I pay attention. I'm not stupid, Scotch." The endearing nickname didn't ease the tension in your chest, but it did remind you of your bond. "Whoever he is, he makes you annoyingly happy."

"Close your mouth when you chew, Isaac," you muttered, trying to keep your composure. "You know I hate it when you do that." You hoped the change of subject would work, but you could see the twinkle in his eye, the same mischievous look he had when you were sixteen and he was seven and he'd discovered your secret crush on the neighbor's son.

"Okay, okay," he held up his hands in mock surrender. "Wanna tell me who he is?"

"None of your business," you replied immediately, flipping him off with both hands playfully.

Isaac chuckled, "So it's serious, then?"

Your heart skipped a beat, and you took a moment to collect yourself. "Maybe. We're taking it slow, seeing where it goes," you said, your voice a mix of excitement and nerves. The words hung in the air, and you watched your brother's expression shift from teasing to something more serious.

"Just be careful, okay?" Isaac said, his tone genuine. "You know how guys are…" He trailed off, his concern for you evident.

You had talked about it for years. What might happen if he did make it to the NHL. There was always that looming possibility of a man taking advantage of you because of your brother's fame, or the media spinning a simple relationship into a tabloid circus. You knew the risks, but you had never thought you'd be navigating that minefield so quickly.

The conversation at the brunch table had shifted to other topics, but you couldn't shake the feeling that your secret had been uncovered. You picked at your food, trying to act as if everything was normal, but your mind was racing with scenarios of how this could go wrong.

"What's got you so quiet?" Sidney's voice was low in your ear, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his touch soothe your nerves.

"Isaac knows that I'm dating," you whispered, turning to look at him. His expression grew serious, his thumb stroking your skin in a comforting gesture. "He said he's happy for me, but…"

Sidney kissed your forehead, his hand rubbing warmth into the skin of your shoulder. "Does that bother you?" he asked, his voice a soothing rumble in the quiet of his living room. You took a moment to consider your answer. The truth was, you weren't entirely sure how you felt about it. Part of you was relieved that the secret was partially out, if only to one person who you knew would keep it. But the other part was scared of how people would react when the whole truth came to light.

"I don't know," you admitted, your voice small and unsure. "It's just… I'm not bothered about Isaac knowing that I'm dating, it's…" you trailed off, uneasiness settling over your expression.

Sidney studied you, his thumb still caressing your shoulder. "It's me?" he asked gently. "You're bothered that Isaac will find out that you're dating me."

You nodded, your breathing a bit shaky. "I'm not ready for him to know," you confessed, your voice trembling. "Or for anyone to know. This is all happening so fast, and I… I just need a little more time."

He considered your words for a moment. That far-off, almost imperceptible look in his eyes suggesting he was weighing your situation carefully. "Why does it bother you?" His voice was low, soft as his accented drawl curled the ending syllables of each word. "Is it the age gap? The attention?"

You sighed, leaning into his embrace, your body fitting perfectly into the side of his. "Is it shitty of me to say it's all of it?" you mumbled against his chest. "I know people will judge, and I know it'll be a circus for a bit. But mostly, I just don't want to fuck up your reputation, or Isaac's for that matter."

Sidney's arms tightened around you. "We're both adults," he reminded you, his voice firm but understanding. "I swear I'll do whatever it takes to protect you. We can't expect that people won't have opinions." He tipped your chin up so you had to look at him. "But this is what I want. I'm all in, if you are."

You nodded, "I'm all in."

Sidney leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your lips, "Good."

[womanofwords]

Darling Demon (Part 2)

Yandere!batfam x betrothed!neglected!male!reader x yandere!demon!spouse

You woke up with the sun in your eyes from the holes in your curtains. You'd been asking for new ones, but Bruce thought they were unnecessary and said no. Hopefully, you would still get to make yourself your birthday cake like you'd been planning. You only turn eighteen once, right?

You did your best to avoid your siblings. They were unenthusiastic about being related to you at the best of times. Damian, your biological brother, was openly disgusted at your existence. He showed you in his words, his hits and kicks, and the twisted stunts he orchestrated to remind you that you didn't belong.

"I did you a favour. You're too old for that thing," Damian said. You could only stare at your stuffed bear in horror, its cotton innards and brown felt skin making your room into a crime scene.

"My mother got me that bear," you said.

"Your mother was a waste of space. You resemble her in that regard. Have your stupid bear." Your bear's severed head was tossed at you, and all you could do was wail.

When your eighteenth birthday came along, you were hoping for something quiet. Alfred had agreed to let you have the kitchen to yourself so you could bake yourself a birthday cake. This year, you'd been thinking of apple and strawberry loaf cake.

"What to have for breakfast? Toast, or cereal?" you murmured. Jason shoulder-checked you out of the way without even a murmur of apology. Never mind, you could wait.

You grabbed some granola bars and ate at your chair, the chair that was far removed from everyone else's. As you chewed, you tried to remember what your mom used to tell you about your birthday.

"You came into the world at 9 AM sharp! That was how I knew you'd be a morning person!"

What time was it now? 8:59. You were going to be chewing granola bars through your eighteenth birthday like the biggest loser in the world. Nobody even knew it was your birthday. Not Bruce, not Dick, and certainly not Damian. Best case scenario, you could bake your cake uninterrupted.

A whistling sound came from the ceiling. Was there a draft in here? You decided to ignore it. After all, everyone else ignored you.

A portal widened in the middle of the dining hall. Two horned, bipedal creatures in tunics emerged from it, roaming around the room in search of something.

You weren't sticking around to find out what it was that they wanted.

With shaking legs, you got up and ran, getting away from them like no tomorrow. A guttural howl ripped through the manor as they noticed you and gave chase.

You ran faster than you had ever run in your life, because you had to. You could feel the space behind you grow warm, but you certainly weren't going to look over your shoulder to see if that heat was fire or the creature's hot breath. You felt a thick, coil of rope wrap around your waist, tighten and drag you back towards one of the demons.

"No, no! Don't eat me! I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry!" you sobbed, as the demon held you tightly and brought you to its friend. You felt cold, heavy metal clamp around your wrists and ankles. The other demon looked you up and down hungrily.

"Y/N WAYNE!" it roared. "YOU ARE NOW CLAIMED AS THE PRIZE AND SPOUSE OF AZRIR ACCORDING TO THE RULES OF BATTLE AND PRIOR FORFEIT OF YOUR SOUL!"

Well, that just might set this birthday apart from all the others you'd had in Wayne Manor.

Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia.

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[ohmyeyesmyeyes]

always a good morning - nh13

summary: (nh13 x f!reader) a snapshot into a morning at the swiss alps with our favourite devils captain! inspired by headband nico!

warnings: suggestive content, fluff, not checked! 2.4k words

< a/n: i've hit such bad writer's block i literally can't even tell you so i went back to my roots: brunettes with big brown eyes!! >

You inhaled at the feel of your heart rate quickening, something having thrown your mind from its restful slumber to suddenly being conscious of your surroundings. 

It was freezing, that was the first thing you noticed. You could feel the duvet cover draped across your shoulders but it was cold to touch, like a window had been left open during the night and cooled the one thing that was supposed to keep you warm. There was a draft somewhere down your back, the chilly air swirling up your sleep shirt and down your bare legs, and without thinking much of it, you pulled the duvet higher, nuzzling back down into your pillow.

Maybe if you stayed still enough and tried not to focus on the pounding of your heart, which was clearly telling you to get up for whatever reason, you’d be able to trick yourself into falling back to sleep. Maybe.

You were certainly still tired enough: your eyes felt dry and your bones felt heavy, your entire body and mind fully sinking into the mattress and pillows gladly and with a sigh of relief. You could feel your hair smeared across your forehead at an unnatural angle, and your top was twisted uncomfortably, but the mere thought of reaching around to move it was exhausting to even entertain.

You sighed, breathing into your pillow, feeling the last dregs of sleep begin to wither away. Your heart rate wasn’t slowing and you could feel yourself fight the urge to open your eyes. Suddenly the idea of burrowing back under the covers only awakened the desire to sit up straight and take in the view – when had you become a morning person?

The sigh turned into an impatient huff of resignation, your previous thoughts of sleep abandoned completely, and you slowly peeled your eyes open, peering out from under the covers. 

The foot of the bed was a heavy mess of blankets strewn around, clearly having been kicked off at some point in the night, and your eyes jumped over the chair filled with clothes and bags before settling on the open window to your left. For the sake of the view of the cloudy mountains and the utterly breathtaking green outside, you ignored the sleeping hunk of a back also on your left.

Though it could barely have been five seconds before you turned your attention back to him. That always seemed to happen, no matter where you were or what you were doing – Nico was much too magnetic for his own good.

You were still curled up where you’d woken initially, one arm tucked underneath your pillow, the other resting comfortably on top of the sheets. It was the space between you both that gave you the answer as to why you’d woken up cold: you were perched on one side of the bed, and Nico on the edge of his. The reason? You’d both seemingly drank enough the night before to not take any notice of the sides you’d fallen into, because he was on your side and you were on his. 

You blinked slowly, poking some sleep out of the corner of your eyes before glancing back at him quickly. His back was facing you, broad shoulders blocking some of the light from the window you’d obviously forgotten to cover with curtains the night before. His skin had a brownish glow to it, evidence from the dream-like string of vacations he’d taken this summer, and you restrained the urge to reach out and press your palm against the skin there, knowing with absolute certainty he’d feel like he’d just crawled out of the sun. 

You were so cold because he wasn’t near enough to act as a human hot water bottle, keeping everything just the right temperature.

You weren’t even sure how he did it, not in the early morning breeze, because he’d shuffled the duvet down to his waist and you could see he’d untucked one leg from underneath to come to rest on top of the covers.

It seemed your mind had made up the solution to your little problem before you’d even managed to comprehend it because you’d suddenly pulled the duvet into your fist taut enough to shuffle subtly closer, just enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, but not close enough to touch him.

You thought about pressing your feet into the backs of his calves, but judging from the sun just peaking round the mountains it can’t have been any later than six in the morning–

The bed shook violently, almost reminiscent of how someone would jump in their skin after falling down the stairs in a dream, and the sudden jolt had your eyes flying open, mind a complete jumble as you blinked the remnants of sleep away.

When did you fall back to sleep?

There was a groan of “woah” from the body in front of you, deep and gravelly, both hinting at the alcohol consumption last night and the early morning disruption of…whatever had happened there.

Your brows furrowed at the intense light streaming through the window, and you could barely open your eyes from squinting hard against it. Yet, you could still make out the silhouette of a shoulder moving in front of you, and still make out the thick head of hair combed back with the sudden appearance of a hand you knew all too well.

“What the fuck?” Nico grumbled, and the mattress bobbled again, prompting you to pull yourself into a sitting position, hair falling into your face before you managed to push it all back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d slept but it must have been at least two hours later: the sun was beaming pretty intensely through the window, no tells of that early-morning breeze left to suffer through.

You were too busy trying to get your eyes to adjust to the light to notice Nico reach an unsteady hand out to the bedside table, fumbling with the phone lobbed on the wood. You blinked once, twice, before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

The involuntary shudder that immediately followed had both of you freezing. Right under your palm his skin seemed to transform, now littered with goosebumps. You frowned, slowly removing your hand.

He’d been as warm as you’d predicted, but his temperature was the last thing on your mind, especially when he almost instantaneously started to shiver, his phone long forgotten on the bedside table as he blearily rolled over onto his back, pushing away your hair that had fallen in a curtain around your face, blocking his eyesight.

You took that momentary pause where he couldn’t see you, eyes trailing greedily down his chest before looking up to meet his gaze. It was painfully clear he’d only just woken up: his eyes were still blinking quickly, trying to adjust to the light as well, and one side of his face was lined red from where his cheek had been smushed against the pillow.

There was something so adorably irresistible about Nico in the morning; he never quite ceased to amaze you, not with those big doe eyes blinking wearily up at you, and certainly not with the way he’d curled his arm to rest behind his head, bicep purposefully on show.

“What were you doing?” You croaked, eyeing the rather befuddled crease between his brows as his mouth formed an ‘o’, his attention darting to your pillow next to his head.

His face crumpled at your words, and you held back an amused snort of laughter at his clearly hungover state, instead moving to lay back down in your previous position, head perched on the corner of your own pillow.

“Sorry.” You whispered, unable to help a small smile at the way his nearest eye to you peeked open, immediately followed by a cheeky dimpled smile.

He hummed, shaking his head, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he fought to stay awake, “My fault.” He breathed, before snapping his eyes open, “I went to check you were still in bed and almost fell out instead. Why are we on the wrong side?”

You shrugged, yawning, “No clue.”

His face broke into a kind of smirk, and he rolled onto his shoulder, breath tickling your face, eliciting an amused scrunch of your nose, “We must have been pretty distracted, then.” He muttered, and you rolled your eyes fondly.

“Morning breath.” You mumbled, budging your cold foot against his shin. He didn’t recoil at your freezing touch, but rather helped trap your foot between his leg, sandwiched by heat on all sides.

“You don’t care about my morning breath.” He said knowingly, nudging his nose against yours and draping a bare arm across your shoulders to pull you impossibly closer.

He was boiling. The sudden change in temperature had you shivering, now enveloped completely in a bubble of warmth, your forehead pressed snugly against the crease of his shoulder. You found yourself humming, “No I don’t.”

There was a rumble in his chest, a soft, lazy laugh, as his hand dragged through your hair, gently untangling any knots and brushing it off your face to press a sweet kiss to your temple. Your heart had been beating pretty quickly from when he’d almost launched himself off the bed – from sheer shock – but now it was racing for a whole different reason.

It was still for a while, and you were vaguely aware of the pounding in his own chest and the constant shuffling, so when he wrapped both arms underneath you it didn’t come as a complete shock. There was a brief moment you were airborne, a new rush of cold air blowing through the sheets before the mattress was back on your side, and when you peeled your eyes open once more you were facing a now wide-awake Nico, whose cheeks were a significant tinge of pink, evidence of his previous warmth.

He’d spun you around so you were both back in your normal sides of the bed, but he’d also placed you on his hot spot. 

“That’s better.” He grinned, running a hand through his hair.

He’d not had it trimmed in so long it was difficult to keep it all from falling into his face, and for the last few days of vacation it had been driving him crazy. A hair tie didn’t work, it was far too comical for him to even walk out of the door with a sad excuse of a ponytail, let alone enough to face his family. It was only yesterday that you’d managed to wear him down to wear one of your headbands, and he hadn’t once moved to take it off throughout the entire day.

Clearly he was missing it already.

You pushed yourself up onto one elbow and he tilted his head quizzically, “What do you wanna do for breakfast?”

His face brightened, mouth twisting in thought, “We could go to that cafe and pick up some pastries and eat them on the dock?”

As if by command, your stomach growled in agreement, and both yours and Nico’s faces crumpled with amusement, before Nico took initiative and threw back the covers, that single action both the best and worst thing in the world: on one hand you were smacked with the one thing you’d been trying to avoid, but on the other? There was nothing quite as mouth-wateringly picturesque as watching Nico kneel on the bed, back muscles rippling as he stretched.

Your lip caught in your teeth, and he turned around after a moment, not having heard you even attempt to move even despite the goosebumps trailing across your skin, and you blushed, smiling unabashedly as he raised an accusatory brow in your direction. He tried to hide the fact that he was smiling as well, his mouth fighting to keep a straight line, but the dimple in his cheek gave him away. The dimples always gave him away.

He looked right at you, trailing his eyes across your splayed figure still unmoving from your previous position, and you collapsed your arm, head hitting the pillow with a soft thump.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, voice suddenly quite gruff. You reached a hand out to poke him in his lower back, just above the elastic band of his shorts, and he spun quickly, arms instantly bracketing your head in. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you found you were hungry for a whole different reason. The house was empty – everyone else had made plans to hike for sunrise – and Nico was slowly lowering himself closer to your face, his hair tickling your forehead.

You reached a hand out automatically, fingers catching and pushing his hair away from his face, just right at the same moment he pressed an urgent kiss to your lips, lingering for a few seconds longer than he usually would have.

But…you had an empty house and no reason not to kiss him back as fiercely as you wanted. There were no consequences, after all.

“It is, yeah.” You whispered, pulling back slightly. Through the gaps in your hands a stubborn lock of hair flopped onto his forehead, and he looked at it, contemplating something for a moment.

You did the acting for him, quickly twisting your hands out of his hair and avoiding his arm bracketing you in for the sake of pulling a headband out of the bedside drawer and sliding it around his neck before pulling it back up, the thoughtful task made all the more difficult by the hot, open-mouthed kisses he was leaving across the column of your neck.

“Always is a good morning when it’s with you, y’know?” He breathed between kisses, and you couldn’t help a breathy laugh, mind not completely focused on his hair when he was melting you to the mattress.

“As much as I love what you’re doing, I literally can’t–Oh, thank you.” You grinned as his face reappeared, his cheeks flushed and lips bitten pink as he waited patiently for you to slide the headband into place, just the way you knew he liked it.

You patted the top of his head and he flopped onto the mattress next to you, one arm somehow already wound around your waist, pulling you closer as he continued his path, “I thought you were hungry?” 

“The cafe’s not going anywhere any time soon.” You reasoned, pulling back enough to look him in the eyes – dazed and glossy, “You should wear headbands more often.”

“I know, right? They’re so useful.”

You frowned, “That’s now what I was going for.”

“I know.” He grinned.

[smartkookiee]

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

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

Day 3

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

“Absolutely sir.” You nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well answer it.” He shoves his shoulder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure I will.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 5

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

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

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

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

Or at least he hoped you would. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Channel, that’s not it.” Jungkook said, sighing. “I really didn’t want a relationship.” He hesitated, then finally admitted, “But I met someone, and…we’re trying things out and it’s brand new. So please leave.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It ended up being really good carbonara. 

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

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

Causing you to laugh at his dramatic reaction. 

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

You looked at it and he did look like a deer caught in the headlights but it was funny, you absentmindedly put it in your pocket. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“May I?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The evening before.

Day 04

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, sorry.” You mutter. “Nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re pretty.” He says with a shine in his eyes, he really did find you gorgeous and would tell you again and again if it wouldn’t be weird. The compliment makes you blush and hum. 

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

“About what?”

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

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

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

Oh he probably knew exactly what he was doing though.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

“Higher.”

“Okay, when do you usually?” 

You cross your arms, “Twelfth.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Day 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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