#and that would have worked if this fic decided to be THREE CHAPTERS like I INTENDED and instead of FOUR

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Burn Baby Burn

Pairing: Buddie x Reader

Word count: 10 freaking K

This is the second half to Disco Inferno

Notes: When I tell you I am FIGHTING to write this month. Man, I’m just fighting to stay awake. Chronic fatigue has not hit this hard since I was a teenager. I have literally been asleep for most of 2025

P.S I feel kinda bad I couldn’t get my goal of 5 fics and a strawberry chapter done this month….. but this is 10k so hopefully it makes up for that 😂😂😂

You lug your bag to the front steps and drop it before ringing the doorbell. The fact that Buck and Eddie had planned this entire thing was literally crazy. Okay well, not really you’re not surprised but it’s still annoying.

You were an adult; you didn’t have to be watched like some baby, but Buck needed the peace of mind that you were okay and that no freak spontaneous fires were going to break out that he wasn’t around to put out.

So you reluctantly agreed to this because Eddie offered (bribed) to make you his Tía Josephina’s famous enchiladas and elote on his day off this week. And how are you gonna turn that kind of offer down?

“Coming!”

The door swings open and immediately you know this was a mistake. He’s standing there in a freaking towel. Water droplets cascade down his hard chest and through the dips and curves of his body.

You let your jaw drop as you stare completely and honestly disrespectfully because Buck talked Eddie up so much and you just thought it was him hyping his best friend as he should but none of that did this Adonis any justice.

Eddie leans against the doorway, legitimately the front door in a whole ass towel, and just watches you back. Because the way you’re short-circuiting is about to cause a whole new problem in a few seconds.

One he and Buck absolutely want you to see.

That’s what all of this was for actually… was it a little sneaky? Yeah definitely but god who cared if it paid off in the end? Buck was into Eddie, Eddie was into Buck which was plain as day but then Buck ended up with you…and apparently their mutual attraction didn’t just end at occasionally finding the same superhero hot. One day at work Buck cornered Eddie and very openly asked him if he had a thing for you and in the effort of being honest with himself for once in his life, Eddie told Buck the truth.

He was very into you.

He promised him he wouldn’t try anything and he was just happy being your friend… but he could just see the damn hamster wheel spinning on all cylinders and a week later Buck came to him with a (and he did the rainbow hands) grand master plan to get all three of you together and Eddie was on board in a heartbeat.

“You good? You got enough or would you like me to remove the towel too?”

That breaks you out of your embarrassing stupor and you shove his chest out of the way and leave your bag on the step for him to bring in. He stumbles backward and laughs, holding the doorframe as you storm inside and wait for you to come in to grab your bag.

Oh, Elle Woods would be proud. He’s not doing the snap part, although Buck made him practice it because his pecs were glorious but you know what the bending part was just fine in his opinion and he waits a second until he knows you’re looking and bends over to grab your bag.

He shuts the door behind him and you’re concentrating very intently on everything but him. He winks when he walks by and you roll your eyes, feeling the flush creeping up your neck and begging it to just freaking go away.

“I’ll go put some clothes on and leave your bag on the bed. I made space in my dresser and closet if you want to unpack.”

“Uh- th-thank you. Thanks that’s nice.. thank you.”

“You’re welcome”

Eddie leaves you with a “Make yourself comfortable” and goes to get changed and you’re… left to be comfortable.

You snatch your phone from your back pocket and immediately text Buck, your fingers hover over the keyboard trying to decide just what to freaking say… hey bro Eddie totally answered the door in a towel! He’s got the fattest ass I’ve ever seen! and it turned me into the biggest puddle ever haha!!

Passenger Princess: Hey I made it to Eddie’s

Smokey The Bear: Okay ❤️ how’s it going?

Passenger Princess: Fine…

Smokey the Bear: Wow that sounds fine! 😀😀 I believe the words you have texted me!!

Passenger Princess: Die.

Passenger Princess: So like. Does your best friend just always like answer the door in a towel

Smokey The Bear: Literally genuinely actually yes. This is just something he freaking does. Did you see that man’s b o d y?

You stare at the text for a second, and you know Buck is waiting for those stupid little bubbles to stop bubbling but like- Yeah. Yeah, you did see it. And like-

Passenger Princess: Yeah

Now you’re watching those three dots and suddenly your phone starts ringing and fuck why is he calling??

“Hey, Buckykins” You hold your phone out and smile at him. He’s on his bed, buried in his squishmallows with a plate of nachos.

“Hey, bunny. So honestly you did not have the reaction I thought you would and I realized that cornering you like this is definitely the answer.”

You roll your eyes and crumple into the fluffy throw pillows behind you, slapping a hand over your face.

“Evan…”

“Eddie is the hottest guy I know and for you to be having zero reaction is wild”

“How do you know I was having zero reactions?”

“Because the last time we saw a hot guy together we literally had to calm each other down in the car and you had to stop me from going to get his number for us. So. Make with the reactions.”

“Okay fine!” You hiss under your breath, flapping your hands. “Okay!! Okay yeah, he’s- he’s???”

“Drop dead gorgeous.”

“That’s an understatement!! That’s the under-iest understatement! He bent over Buck, He bent over and I nearly had a heart attack. A heart attack!!”

He knows when you start repeating yourself you’re flustered. Like beyond flustered and suddenly his fingers are flying across the keyboard now as he listens to you ranting about how you could bounce a quarter off that ass or take a big ole bite out of it.

You’re just getting into detail about the exact way you’d convince him to let you peg him when your head snaps up to the sound of the bedroom door opening.

“I gotta go!” You whisper and Buck also scrambles to hang up. He blows you a kiss and promises to call you later and you giggle and hang up.

“Hey was that Buck?”

Eddie looks like a slut. Okay, that wasn’t nice but god did he look like a slut. You firmly believed men should never have stopped wearing crop tops. Like, ever.

His shirt stops mid-torso and you’re practically drooling. His sweatpants hang low on his waist, his slutty slutty little waist.

“Do you wanna take a picture?” He flexes his arms playfully and you hold your camera up, just spamming the button.

His head tips back when he laughs at the sound of the shutter and you keep going. Buck is going to eat these up.

“Anyway. Jesus, how many did you even take?” He comes over and takes your phone, scrolling through the camera roll to like 50 pictures of him standing there. He rolls his eyes, typing a couple of things, and then hands it back.

“You’re ridiculous” He tilts your chin up, kissing your forehead before letting you go and walking into the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? I was gonna make myself like a sandwich or something”

“A sandwich sounds fine!”

You fall back on the couch, kicking your legs and starting a new album to share with Buck, who immediately starts blowing up your phone and adding his own pictures to your new Eddie album.

Eddie smirks at your badly concealed squeal and tosses some cheese down. He’s squeezing chipotle sauce on the top bread when a loud bang startles him and he turns toward the living room.

“Uhhh Y/N?”

“….Yeah?”

“You uh- you good there?” He sets the bottle down and puts on the top pieces of bread.

“Yeahhh…”

“Okay…” his voice trails off and he grabs two sodas from the fridge “You want some chips?”

“Sure sounds great!”

“Uh-huh. Are you off the floor yet so I can come in? Or do you need a minute?”

“….I need a minute.”

Eddie is relentless with roasting your ass for rolling off the couch. He can’t help himself when he comes into the living room with the food and sees you sitting nicely on the couch with your hands in your lap. You have to get up and snatch the plates from his hands before he drops them.

He falls onto the couch still snickering and you slap at his thighs trying to get him to just shut up it wasn’t that freaking funny! Your cheeks are so pink with the embarrassment seeping through your pores and he tries his best to reign it in but you’re so cute when you’re like this and he eventually reaches out and pulls you into him.

“Awww I’m sorry okay okay I’ll stop I swear I’m done”

His chest is hard against your cheek, you can hear his heart beating under your ear, and his shallow pants from laughing so hard.

His bare skin is hot against yours, it’s smooth and even and sends shivers up your spine. He purposely arranges you so you’re pressed flat against him. He spreads his legs like the slut he is and you’re the one settling between them.

“Comfy?”

Oh, you just wanna slap that stupid grin off his face. Especially when his hands slide down over your side and splay flat across your back. He not so freaking subtly pushes you down against him, and you gasp, feeling the outline of his cock pressed into you.

“You ready to eat?” His hands slide further down your hips and rest on your ass, he ruts you against him and you shoot up from the couch and scramble off of him.

“Yup! Yeah! Uh huh sure.” You opt to sit on the floor and hand him his plate. You pop open the bag of Doritos and position them in the middle of the two of you and Eddie opens your sodas.

“Anything you wanna watch?” He’s still smiling when you look back to grab the remote from him and quickly turn back around.

“Uhhh sure I can look around…”

You turn on Jennifer’s body and in an almost hilarious turn of events Eddie doesn’t know whether to look at Megan Fox or you and you seem to be having the exact same problem, occasionally catching his eye and quickly turning away.

He convinced you to sit on the couch with him again and the one seat cushion between you two feels like seven thousand.

He’s been periodically texting Buck, who has been using this time to help come up with a ✨Super Secret Seduction✨ plan. Which starts with Eddie getting your ass back over to him.

He casually stretches out across the couch a bit, his leg draped on the couch next to you. He notices you take a peek before turning back to the movie and he grins.

He toys with the edge of the throw blanket slung over the couch and gets up.

“Hey, do you want a drink? Maybe some popcorn?”

“Uh- I’ll take a water if you have it. I don’t think I’ve drunk any today.”

He frowns because of course you freaking haven’t and shakes his head.

“Seventy-five waters coming up”

“Oh teehee,” you flick him off.

He goes into the kitchen, grabs a couple of waters from the fridge, and comes back in, but not before making a cute little stop at the thermostat.

He flops down on the couch and tosses you your bottle before turning his attention back to the movie.

“Can I use this?” Twenty minutes later you’re curled up tight in the corner of the couch. Eddie looks up at you for a second, just making out the dangerous silhouette of your body in the dark.

“Yeah… wait, here.” He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and finally gets you to close the freaking gap between the two of you. He opens his arms and you easily come into them, settling into his side and he puts the blanket over the two of you. You’re too cold to think about the precarious position and he quickly plays the movie to distract from it even more.

Eddie's fingers trace over your arm, enjoying the soft skin. He draws little shapes and you snuggle deeper into him while watching the movie. You’re not sure when you take his other hand but suddenly it’s in yours and you’re cuddling and he’s so hard and warm and you’re so soft and cold and you fit together so nicely.

You can feel your heart racing in your chest as you start to pull away and sit up. He pauses the movie and the blanket falls from your shoulders. He looks at you, the movie screen highlighting the shadows on your face. He reaches out, cupping your cheek and rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

Your cheeks immediately flush and suddenly he’s sitting closer to you. You can feel the heat from his body, and smell the minty scent of his toothpaste.

When did he brush his freaking teeth?

He smirks, coming so close to you that you start to lean back slowly away from him. He looks like a predator stalking his prey and it sends your pulse into orbit.

“I have a boyfriend…” You mutter, your breath catching in your throat and Eddie smirks, his eyes lazily trailing from your lips to your eyes.

“Yeah so do I”

“Oh!”

“Mhmm… But something tells me we’re talking about the same man…”

He leans in, his breath ghosting across your lips. He’s giving you a moment to pull away, a minute to maybe gather your thoughts. But he’s doing that thing he does, where he’s just so effortlessly Eddie and there’s not a single thought running through your brain.

When he sees you’re not moving away from him he finally leans in all the way. It’s a simple kiss, just kind of a test really. He slots his lips against yours, tangling his fingers in the back of your hair and pushing you just the littlest bit closer to him. He counts the seconds between him guiding you and when you actually finally get around to kissing him back, the shock finally wearing off.

Your arms wrap around his neck and he lays you back on the couch. Your hands are all over his chest, feeling him and his hands are feeling over your sides and you’re both just trying to feel as much of each other as possible.

He can’t get enough of you, he doesn’t want to stop, but he knows he has to. He and Buck made a plan and it’s going way faster than they expected it to. You taste so good, so sinfully good and he’s starting to wonder what else he could get away with tasting.

Eddie finally pulls away from you, panting harshly and trying to catch his breath before diving right back in when you finally break.

“O-oh, my god. I shouldn’t have just done that- no no no fuck. Shit.” You slide off the couch from under him trying to run from the living room and Eddie chases after you, grabbing your wrist.

“Wait wait wait” He pins you to the wall and you’re struggling against him, he can feel the panic flowing through you like it’s starting to transfer over to him.

“No! hell no!”

“Where are you even going?” He pins both your hands above your head and pulls his phone out. He holds it up to his ear, watching you trying to yank your wrists away and it crushes him.

“Hey! So- ow! Quit it!” Eddie uses his body to block your legs while you try to kick at him.

“Fuck just talk to your girlfriend! Please!” Eddie puts Buck on speaker and you stop.

“Buck?! I’m- I’m so sorry I-“

“Did you kiss Eddie?”

You swallow thickly and nod, unable to say anything and Eddie sighs into your shoulder as you start to melt against the wall in tears.

“Baby no- no it’s okay- fuck. Here.” He FaceTimes Eddie who passes you the phone. Buck’s face immediately crumples and he shakes his head, This was so not what they had planned and he’s starting to feel like this might have been a mistake.

“No please don’t cry no- this is not what we wanted! We just-“

“We?? Buck, what are you talking about?” You sniffle and wipe at your eyes and he sighs loudly. Eddie sits on the floor next to you, hesitantly scooting closer to you, your knees touch and the electric jolt that runs up your spine nearly makes you sick, sick from the way he makes you feel, from the way his cologne floods your senses the closer he gets.

It’s still sticking to your clothes.

“Y-you weren’t supposed to kiss him…yet” Buck admits shyly and you glare at the camera and Eddie sighs and leans back on his hands.

“So…we kinda planned this…” Eddie bites his lip “We thought that maybe… we could kinda convince you that uhhh… it might be you know a little fun if-“

“If you know the three of us kinda had a teeny tiny thing?” Buck finishes sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss him this soon, actually, in all honesty, we were really hoping you would anyway. Kinda make things a little smoother.”

“We just uh- didn’t anticipate the whole freak-out thing,” Eddie adds and now you’re left with their confession and deciding what the hell to do with it.

“You mean the entire reason Eddie has been being a total slut today-“

“Hey!”

“Is because you wanted me to fall for him so that way the three of us could be a thing??”

“Well, when you put it like that” Buck scoffs and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“You guys realized you could have just asked me right?? Buck, you do realize you could have just asked me? Instead of trying to seduce me?!”

“Well?! Are you??” He gestures and your jaw drops

“Now you decide to ask?! Now?!!”

“We wanted to romance you! Honestly, Y/N we wanted to romance you and seduce you and get you into a little stupefied ball and then fuck you together.” Eddie just spills the entire plan now because there’s no point in holding it back anymore especially since you’re already upset with them.

“Only you know it was gonna have way more finesse! Plus I was supposed to be home… we had an entire plan and then I got sent here. This was supposed to take a couple of months where I would then bring it up” Buck explains further and you’re absolutely reeling. You give the phone to Eddie and get up from the floor, brushing your legs off.

“I think I need some time to… process”

“Y/N?” Buck and Eddie say, but you walk into the bedroom quietly and shut the door behind you

“So I think she’s mad at us” Buck sighs and Eddie’s head smacks against the wall behind him.

“Yeah. I think she’s mad at us.”

Two and a half hours later there’s a soft knock at the door. You sigh and roll over on your side, facing the door.

“Go away, Eddie”

It’s quiet for a second before he knocks again.

“Eddie please N-not. Not now” You sit up, looking at the door. It was nice that he didn’t just come in anyway considering it was his home and his bedroom.

He knocks again and you roll your eyes and slide off the bed.

“You know you’re almost as freaking pushy as-“

Your breath catches in your throat, Buck is standing in the doorway. He looks exhausted nervous and fidgety.

“Evan?” Your voice cracks and he rushes into the room, his hands cupping your face and pressing his lips to yours. He kisses you messily, desperately shoving all his feelings and emotions into it. You stumble backward and your back hits the wall. He’s got your shirt off so fast it gives you whiplash and eventually you’re working on the button on his jeans.

He kicks them to the side, the sound of his belt buckle sliding against the floor not breaking the spell that seems to have a hold on you now. He yanks your skirt down your hips and it joins his clothes in a heap in the corner of Eddie’s room.

He picks you up and brings you over to the bed. The way he drops you on the bed finally knocks some sense into you and your hands slam into his shoulders as he climbs onto you. His weight settles, comfortable and warm between your legs and you can feel the heaviness of his cock pressing into your thin panties.

“You could have just asked me.”

“Please don’t break up with me.” Buck whimpers and your elbows bend. His chest falls against yours and you let out a little “oof”

“Please, please, please don’t break up with me. I should have just come to you, but- but it was supposed to be over a long period of time! We wanted to take it easy with you and give you time to even consider it! But I know it was wrong”

“You wanted to romance me?” You raise an eyebrow with a little smirk and the deep pit of dread in Buck’s stomach lightens just a little bit.

“Our whole plan was for Eddie to start hitting on you, it would just be soft and subtle… and when he’d come over for you know dinners and movie nights he was supposed to sit close to you and put his arm around you…”

“Until eventually I caught feelings?” You scoffed lightly and he nodded

“Y-yeah? I knew you would. I know you better than you know yourself… I just- didn’t think you already had them? I’m not mad you do! Cause… clearly so do I…”

“So what? You want to date Eddie and me??”

“It doesn’t need to be like that if that’s not what you want… Eddie is perfectly content just being our friend and I’m okay with that too… is that what you want? For it to just be me and you?”

“This was a very very sneaky plan, Evan Buckley.” You scold him and he whines and literally just crushes you with his body.

“Please don’t break up with me.”

“And don’t hate me?” Eddie stands in the doorway and you sigh with a little smile and hold out your hand, inviting him in.

“You drove two hours to come see if I was okay?”

Eddie settles on his side on the bed, his fingers coming up to write lazy shapes against your skin.

“Uh- n-not exactly” Buck Stammers “See- I didn’t… drive here”

“You should see the mountain of sweets he brought home with him,” Eddie mumbles and you look up at Buck again.

“How did you get here?”

“I uhhh… called in a favor from my ex-boyfriend? I baked like a madman and then made him come get me real quick.”

“How many times is he going to steal that helicopter” Eddie mutters and you stare at Buck with wide eyes, your mouth pops open and he smirks, closing it with one finger.

“He wants to meet you sometime, and if you’re gonna be hanging with the team while I’m gone you probably will at some point…”

“We don’t like him anymore” Eddie whispers and you nod along, Buck rolls his eyes.

“Thank you both for your support… anyway. Yeah, things didn’t… really go as planned but they also kind of did? Because this was the outcome we wanted but you know in a good way not in the accidental shitty way we created”

Buck finally stops squishing you and lies to your side, mirroring Eddie’s relaxed stance and Eddie.

“Please don’t hate us”

“I don’t hate you… I just. This was stupid and admittedly I feel really guilty for kissing Eddie and-“

Buck reaches out and grabs Eddie’s shirt, yanking him almost against his chest while they both hover over you. He kisses Eddie, letting their tongues tangle for a moment before pulling away from him and pushing him back across the bed.

You stare between the two of them, not even attached to your body anymore and just floating around in the empty space in the room.

“Now we’re even” Buck shrugs. Oh boy if that’s all it took to take your guilt away…

“We’re even?” You repeat and he takes your hand, his lips ghosting over the back of it.

“Yup. Like I said-“

Eddie kisses the back of your other palm and your head bounces over to him now.

“It was our plan.”

Suddenly the fact that you and Buck are both very much almost fully naked comes back to mind.

Suddenly Eddie is wearing too many clothes.

You look over at him, your eyes softly lidded and he gets up from the bed, removing his shirt and letting it drop to the floor. Two pairs of eyes are glued to him as he hooks his thumbs in his waistband, running his thumbs along it before turning around and sliding them over his ass.

He turns back and he’s left in those stupid boxers that do absolutely nothing to hide the raging hard-on in his pants. God, he’s big, so, so big, and you and Buck are left drooling over him.

He turns around again and stares you in the eyes, giving you both the perfect view of his ass, and slowly slides his boxers down with a little wiggle of his hips.

“I’m like 90% sure I just came” Buck gulps and you nod along with him.

“Same.”

Eddie grins and slowly turns around for you, revealing his aching cock. It stands so thick and hard at attention, dripping precum onto the floor.

“Like what you see?”

Eddie climbs on the bed, slowly crawling toward you and you scramble backward, crashing into Buck’s chest. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, locking you in place.

“Let me go!” You squeak and Buck manhandles you into his lap properly, sticking you between his thick thighs.

“Why? When I could watch you be tortured?”

“You are such a cuck” You hiss as Eddie approaches and he snickers.

“Damn straight”

He holds you with one arm and takes your bra off, grinning wolfishly at the way your tits bounce. He lifts your hips enough for Eddie to slide off your panties, he looks at them, admiring the damp spot left there, and inhales deeply.

“Fuck you smell so good” He groans deeply and holds them up for Buck who sniffs them too.

“Good enough to eat”

“You’re both perverts!” You huff and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“And you talk too much”

He stuffs the panties in your mouth and you thrash in Buck’s arms again, tasting yourself with every shake of your head.

“Would you settle down already!” Buck shakes you lightly and you whimper and push yourself against his chest.

“There you go baby girl that’s it, just relax. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, I promise.”

Buck twitches against your back and you look up at him with your eyes narrowed.

“What?! You liked it too…” He mutters and you giggle around the panties in your mouth.

“Don’t worry, Daddy will make you feel good too” He pats Buck’s cheek and you snicker when you feel him melt against you.

Eddie instructs Buck to spread your legs over his and he does eagerly. Your heart pounds in your chest, your entire body open and on display for Eddie. He stares down at your pussy hungrily, his mouth-watering.

He leans forward on his hands and knees, settling down on his elbows, and nuzzles his nose between your lips. He brushes your clit and your hips jerk against his face involuntarily. He chuckles deeply at the blush on your cheeks and Buck’s hands slide over your torso and cup your breasts. He kneads the soft skin in his hands, bouncing them in your face and tugging at your nipples.

You’re so overwhelmed by the pain that turns into pleasure that you don’t notice the hitch in Buck’s breath. You don’t notice him tensing until suddenly he’s inside you, your head falls weakly back against his shoulder and Eddie grins, sliding Buck’s cock deeper inside you.

“Don’t you look so pretty with Buck’s cock inside you? Oh, you’re such a pretty little thing.”

You wriggle in Buck’s lap, your clit throbbing as you whine and grind your hips down on his cock. He gasps and thrusts his hips and you shudder, Eddie is a mess watching the two of you trying to be on your best behavior for him.

“Fuck this is better than I thought it would be”

He’s done talking and teasing now. He kisses your pussy with an open mouth kiss. He hums deeply against your clit, letting it vibrate through your hot core.

Eddie enjoys every noise he pulls from you. Your sweet little moans and whimpers, he could feel the way your fingers tangle almost desperately in his hair, holding him closer as he eats you out like his favorite meal.

He was so different from Buck, not that that was an issue in the least, but he just was. He was slow and methodical, categorizing each stroke of his tongue and what kinds of sounds he could get out of you. His favorite was the sound you and Buck made together when he sucked on the point where the two of you met with him buried deep inside you.

“W-what about you?” Buck whimpers and Eddie looks up into your eyes, watching them roll back in your head.

“You think you could handle a different position, pretty girl?”

He pulls the panties from your mouth and tosses them to the floor and reaches up for you. Buck helps maneuver you down so you’re lying across Eddie’s torso. He gets on his knees, sinking further inside you and you shudder, grinding your hips down.

You squeak, coming into contact with Eddie’s waiting mouth. He moans and grabs your hips, yanking you down harder.

“Come on baby girl, use me. Use my face for your pleasure.”

You roll your hips again, a little harder this time, and moan, letting your head fall forward. Your cheek brushes against his cock and you look at it, hard and glistening with precum. You reach out and slowly stroke it, just feeling him, hot and heavy in your hand.

“Go on” Buck encourages you “Fuck I wanna see you swallow his cock. Please, Bunny? Please?”

How could you say no to him begging like that?

You blow on the tip gently, the cool air making Eddie’s hips twitch. You smirk and lick a long, slow stripe up the center of his cock, softly kissing right before the tip and moan, rolling your hips more.

He lets out a low moan and you make out with the tip, kissing it sloppily and sucking it. The feel of your little pink tongue teasing his slit is almost too much and his hips jerk into your mouth.

You make a garbled-choking noise and struggle for a second, swallowing around his cock and he melts into your mouth. Now he’s rolling his hips with yours mimicking your moves and fucking your mouth.

You’re not sure who you’re more distracted by, Buck or Eddie but your eyes roll back in your head and Eddie holds you down harder and you’re sure you’re suffocating him and he does not fucking care, he would happily die between your legs.

Your body shudders and your hips start to lose their rhythm and Buck slams into you, shoving his cock in as far as he can and cums in you, he starts to fuck you faster chasing his high, and pulls away quickly.

You choke around Eddie’s cock again and dig your nails into his thighs, your entire body grinds against him as you cum on his lips. He lets out a guttural moan, licking up every last drop and messily kissing your pussy. Your thighs shake from the overstimulation and he smirks, grabbing your hips and suddenly rolling you over so he’s laying on top of you now, he fucks your face, shoving his cock down your throat as far as he can, and his balls cover your nose while your claws hook into his ass.

He keeps cleaning you up, licking all of your and Buck’s combined juices while he uses your face now. The sound of you choking and struggling to take him all sends him over the edge and he’s coming down your throat. He gasps raggedly, swearing and saying your name over and over like a prayer until he’s empty.

He falls over onto the bed, kissing your thigh and Buck leans over and tilts your head up, kissing your sore neck and cooing sweet praises before you pass out.

When you wake up, Buck is gone. Eddie has his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his face nuzzled into your neck.

You blink sleepily, stretching out your arms and legs like a dog on its side, and relax. There’s a pink note on the pillow next to you and you reach for it, unfolding the heart origami with a giggle.

You hold the note to your chest and turn over in Eddie’s arms to lie on your back. He whines and buries his face deeper in your neck, throwing his arm over your torso.

“I’m not ready to wake up” His voice is so deep and gravelly in your ear it sends a shiver up your spine. You reach out and wrap your arms around his neck and he buries his face in your chest. His hand feels your side, gently kneading it. He places soft kisses across your chest and you smile, running your fingers through his hair.

“Good evening” You purr and he looks up at you, resting his chin on your chest.

Fuck he’s pretty like this.

“Good evening…How’re you feeling?” He rests his head on one of your breasts and your cheeks flush a bit.

“Fine…kinda sore not gonna lie. Geez you two put me through the wringer. What time is it anyway?”

“Like one or something. I wanted to be gentle… I wanted to take my time with you, show you how pretty I think you are.”

“Even if you weren’t treating me like a precious flower, I still felt really pretty and really really good”

Eddie listens to you, his eyes softly closing again with a contented little smile on his face. He reminds you a lot of a cat, especially when he’s practically purring while you’re massaging his scalp.

His soft moans are so freaking cute you don’t want to stop. You continue to rake your fingers through his hair and he sighs dreamily.

“You wanna go take a bath?” You ask quietly and he opens one eye

“A bath?”

“We have to clean up anyway… and I can shampoo your hair for you. I’ll even condition it afterward.”

“A bath it is”

It’s when he’s in the tub, lounging in your lap while you run the shampoo through his hair, Eddie realizes he’s embarrassingly touch-starved. And you realize that all the product he puts in his hair hides the soft waves that he has.

He leans back into you, enjoying your plush body up against his, and the relaxing warmth of the water surrounding him. It’s moments like these he could just float away when he can’t hear his head telling him he’s stupid to get involved with you and Buck and that it’ll just end in heartbreak.

It’s so easy to ignore those thoughts and listen to what his heart wants… what did his heart want? For sure for you to never stop touching him, to never take your magic hands away and leave him feeling cold and ill at ease.

But what about Buck? They’d made this entire plan sure, but what did he want from him? Maybe the same thing? Maybe this bath didn’t exactly feel quite complete with a third of his heart missing.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You break the silence with your soft voice and Eddie is transported back to the bathroom. You’re washing his chest with a loofah and he realizes he has no idea when you rinsed his hair and moved on.

“I think I really like you and Buck. I think I want this” He admits, and something in him, deep down and buried away seems to just- leave. Suddenly he feels lighter and safer? Maybe? He doesn’t know but for the first time in a long time he’s being honest with himself and he’s okay.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be my decision? If I wanted this too? I thought you two had already worked this out.”

Your tone is lighthearted and so he decides that you’re being playful and he doesn’t allow that deep-seated panic to rear its ugly head.

“Okay well-“ He starts “Technically we did decide but… You know when you said you felt guilty? And Buck kissed me to make it even?”

You pour water over his chest “Yeah?”

“That was our first kiss”

You flinch and accidentally pour the water on his face and he splutters and sits up, running his hand down his face and flicking the water away.

“Jesus-“

“That was your first kiss?!”

“Uh yeah? We knew we wanted to be together too but we needed to know how you felt first… like I said. I was perfectly okay with us all still just being friends if you weren’t.”

“You mean to tell me-“ You put your hands out “that you and Buck had your first kiss right in front of my salad and you didn’t think, “Hey let’s tell Y/N so she can get the camera ready”?!”

Eddie stares at you for a minute before he bursts out laughing.

“Seriously?! After all of this, that’s your issue??”

“The two hottest men I know, who are my official boyfriend’s kiss for the first time and you think I didn’t want to savor that?!”

“Oh I’m so sorry, would you like me to make sure our next make-out session is on camera?” Eddie sasses you and you splash him

“With mood lighting!”

He reaches out and grabs your waist, pulling you into his lap.

“I promise next time I’ll film it for you, and we’ll make it extra hot just for you.” He nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Okay cool, I trust you”

“Good girl” He growls, cupping your face and kissing you and you lean into him, nipping at his bottom lip and getting him to open his mouth. He stares at you, his eyes wide open and you blink, your heart racing in your chest as you stare into his eyes.

He keeps his tongue tangled with yours, lapping at your mouth and your face heats up so quickly that you yank away from him and squeak.

“Eddie!!”

“Awwww you don’t like eye contact? Poor thing”

He doesn’t sound very apologetic and it makes you crinkle your nose at him and flick him off. He grins wickedly and captures your lips again, this time cupping the back of your head and keeping you right where he wants you.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy you sleeping over so often.”

It’s been another month, and having to live two hours away from your brand-new boyfriend and sort of brand-new girlfriend is just about the worst form of torture there is probably.

Especially when they’ve taken to sending you videos.

All.

Day.

Long.

They were cute at first, adorable even! Eddie sent him videos of you doing a little happy dance over your enchiladas, one where you’re curled up tight and hiding behind a pillow when he made you watch a horror movie. His favorite is when you’ve got your head in his lap, and he’s gently stroking your hair while you sleep.

That’s where the cuteness ended.

Because this morning he woke up to three videos from Eddie, and he didn’t have time to open them before work so he just oh so innocently, opened them during his lunch break.

You’re splayed out on the bed, your back arched while Eddie slowly thrusts in and out of you. The sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy nearly has him cumming at the table.

Your soft moans break him out of the absolute trance your cunt has him in and he shrieks, his phone bouncing from hand to hand before clattering to the floor.

“Uhhh, you good Buckley?”

Jeremiah looks at him as he walks into the dining area, salad in hand.

“I’m fine!! Fine-fine-fine!” His voice cracks and he falls to his knees, reaching for his phone under the table. You’re moaning louder now, and he can just hear Eddie praising you, calling you a good little girl, and teasing your clit.

“Are- are you watching-“

“No!! No, it’s not! Fuck shit f-“ He smacks the phone with his hand, willing it to just shut up, and eventually gets the video turned off.

He shoots up straight as an arrow and puts his hands on his hips.

“I’m good”

You and Eddie receive a very long, very embarrassed text from him later that evening.

Buck walks into his stupid, cold, lonely apartment and throws his bag down. He sighs and crashes onto the fluffy couch with all the squishmallows he’d been moving around and slaps his hands onto his face.

Just a few more weeks and he’d be back home.

He didn’t like being alone like this, it gave him way too much time to think, and lowkey he didn’t mean for his mind to wander to the things it did but what could he do?

Because as much as he loved himself now and his friends and you, he was worried that like… maybe you guys would forget about him. Maybe you’d think hey we’re not really lacking anything in our lives with ole Buck gone!

And even if he knew that wasn’t true and that this was definitely just his insecurities screaming at him… it still really sucked.

“You’re such a baby? You really can’t be alone for more than a week huh?” Eddie scoffs and Bucks' eyes shoot open. Eddie is leaning against the wall, watching his little pity party on the couch.

“Eddie? Oh god. Oh my god, am I seeing you? Did I lose my mind?!” He whispers, his hands feeling his face.

“OOoOooOo I’m gonna haunt youuuu”

He deadpans and you pop out from behind Eddie.

“It’s me!! Y/N! As a human, not a ghost!!”

He throws his arms open and you tackle him backward onto the couch. He laughs loudly and squeezes you tightly, Eddie comes over and tilts his head up, kissing his nose and he smiles at him.

“How did you two even get in?!” He presses his lips to yours and you moan, attacking him back and running your fingers through his curls.

“You didn’t know your girlfriend could pick locks?” Eddie grabs you by the waist and tosses you onto the couch and you scream.

He pushes your head back when you try and tackle him and straddles Buck’s lap, that stops you cold for a minute and he smirks at you before cupping his cheeks and kissing him.

They hadn’t had much time together after that night and he was going to make up for it as much as he could in that moment. You fall back on your butt on the couch and Eddie winks at you.

“Might wanna get that camera out sweet girl”

“Wait why would she-“

Eddie cuts him off, pressing his lips against Buck’s. The sexual tension between them escalates to an overwhelming extent as their tongues clash. Eddie tilts his head, lifting his body a bit higher, and grinds down on Buck’s cock.

Buck whimpers into his mouth and grabs his hips, pulling him down against him harder as Eddie rolls his hips.

Your jaw drops and you fumble for your phone, leaning back on the couch armrest and filming your boys with wide eyes.

Eddie is a passionate man, because he’s also Hispanic and that doesn’t surprise you in the least. The way he holds Buck close to him, moaning into his mouth and occasionally muttering about how gorgeous he is… You can feel yourself dripping just watching them.

“I love you” Eddie blurts out, and Buck freezes for a second, smirking.

“I know”

Buck tugs at the hem of Eddie’s shirt and he smiles, easily pulling it over his head Buck gasps quietly, biting his lip as he takes in the soft expanse of his beautifully tan skin.

“Fuck you’re the second prettiest person I know” Buck mumbles and Eddie snorts.

“Who’s the first?”

“Genuinely hurt you’d ask him that” You scoff and Buck blows you a little kiss making Eddie laugh.

“You should take your shirt off” Eddie smirks at you resting his head against Bucks.

“Why would you tell her to do that?” Buck whines and you giggle and set your phone down

“I’ll do you one better” You take off your shirt, letting your bra come with it, and settle back in.

“Now let’s see how long he lasts” You purr, grabbing your phone again and Eddie turns back to a distressed-looking Buck.

“You gonna be our good boy baby? You gonna be able to control yourself?”

“When I thought about being with the two of you, none of that involved me being tortured like this!”

You look up from the camera “Wait really? Not one of those fantasies were Eddie and I working against you and admitting he loved you??”

“I’m pretty sure they were all of us working against him” Eddie mutters against the shell of his ear before kissing his neck. Buck melts into the couch with a pretty sigh and his grip on Eddie’s hips tightens.

“Yeah okay 73% of them was definitely this” He admits and you kick at his thigh with a laugh.

“We should take this to the bedroom” Eddie drags his tongue along the vein in his neck and Buck ruts against him.

“O-okay”

You shriek in delight as Buck stands up with Eddie in his arms and carries him toward the bedroom, they both laugh at you while you do a little shimmy because Jesus Christ you could just stare at them all day.

“You’re a mess” Buck laughs and tosses Eddie onto the bed and you shut the door, leaning against it.

“When I give you this video? You’re gonna be doing the exact same thing”

Buck watches you walk across the room and over to a tripod. You click on the ring light and he splutters, his mouth falling open.

“When?!”

“When we broke in” Eddie shrugs like it’s freaking nothing.

“We thought it would help ease those lonely nights” You giggle and turn on the first camera, positioning it toward the bed.

“We’ve already filmed the first part for you” You wink and Buck melts into the bed dramatically.

“And now we’re here to finish the movie” Eddie reaches out for him.

“If you’re comfortable with this. If not we can just get rid of this entire thing” You turn on the second freaking camera on the other side of the room and Buck is spinning.

“No-no! It’s okay! I’m sooo okay with this oh god. You two are serious about this.” Buck settles on top of Eddie, kissing his neck and Eddie slides his hands down his hard back, feeling his muscles and gripping his round ass.

“Of course we are… this is just a little something to help you get through being here without us… we can make a new one every time we come visit if you’re up for it.”

“And when you come back-“ You let your skirt drop and Bucks eyes go wide as saucers. The tiny thong you’re wearing doesn’t even fully cover you, he can see your slick glistening on your thighs.

“We can use my studio to make better quality videos”

“That okay with you?” Eddie reaches down and starts to unbutton Buck's jeans. You help him out of them before crawling onto the bed behind him. Your arms wrap around his torso, your hands splaying over his pecs.

“We just want you to be comfortable” You kiss his shoulder blades and he whimpers, grinding down on Eddie.

“J-just- Jesus fuck just tell me what to do. I’ll do anything”

“That’s my good boy, my sweet Evan.” Eddie praises him and you giggle and slide your hands down, and take his cock in your hands. You stroke him slowly, running your other hand over his balls and squeezing them lightly.

“I told you he gives in easily when you’re pushing the right buttons.”

He can’t even be mad at that because you’re so painfully right he can’t even be embarrassed about it. He tilts his head back, letting out a low moan when Eddie circles his cock around Buck’s puckered hole, just teasing him while you work his cock in your hands.

He leans over, planting his hands on Eddie’s chest and panting. He ruts into your hands and you bite your lip and take one hand away and grab Eddie’s cock now, stroking the impressive length in time with Buck’s.

“You think you can take him?” You ask quietly and Buck nods eagerly

“I can do it, I’ve- I’ve been uh-“

“Oh we know” You whisper “You still have it stuck to your shower wall you know”

His cheeks flush a deep pink and he buries his face in Eddie’s neck with a shy whimper.

“Oh come on!”

“I swear I’d only gone in there to pee!!” You laugh and take Eddie’s cock, stroking it again before patting Buck’s ass.

“Turn around baby, I want you inside me at the same time.”

A shiver goes through his body and he shudders, turning around like you asked him and looking up at you for a second. You smirk and pull him closer to you, rubbing your tits against his face.

“Fuck you’re such a little bitch” Eddie pants, running his hands over his hard ass and smacking it. Buck yelps and he does it again, enjoying the way it jiggles.

“Good boy Evan… now go on, show Y/N how hard you are for her.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t just say mommy” Buck snickers and it makes you snort with him.

“I would have busted before we even got started.”

He helps you lie down, dipping his head down to lap at the mess between your thighs, cleaning you up sloppily and leaving your legs shaking.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Buck kisses up your body, enjoying the salty taste of your skin, and the heady scent of your perfume. Eddie positions himself behind Buck and drags his cock between his cheeks one last time before lining up with his hole.

“You ready?” He asks both of you and Buck copies Eddie, dragging his cock between your folds and coating it in your juices before lining himself up with your dripping pussy.

“I’m so ready” He purrs and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against your chest.

“Ready,” you say and suddenly Eddie is slamming into Buck which makes him slam into you even harder and you all moan loudly together.

“Jesus Christ you’re so tight” Eddie stumbles forward a little, pushing deeper into Buck who pushes deeper into you and your legs come up, locking around his waist with a soft keening noise.

Eddie grabs Buck’s hips, gripping them tightly and pulling him back onto his cock. Buck whimpers in your ear, placing wet kisses along your jaw and down your neck and you lift your hips meeting each of their thrusts.

There’s almost too much going on for you to really focus on so you’re left in a dazed little heap with both men over you and they can practically see the little heart’s radiating in your eyes.

“Fuck you look so pretty” Buck coos, kissing the valley between your breasts “Look at you pretty baby, you like it when we fuck you stupid? You want me to cum in you? Would that make you happy?”

Your blatant incoherence drives Eddie wild, nothing but soft moans and little mewls come from you and the more condescending Buck sounds the harder Eddie thrusts into him and soon you’re all moaning and he doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last.

How much longer any of you are going to last.

“Such a pretty little cocksleeve” They sloppily make out and it sends Eddie over the edge. He groans loudly, pounding into Buck and shoving his cock in as deep as he can go. You shriek under them both, your back arching high into Buck’s body and now you’re cumming with Eddie.

Buck loses all sanity the second he feels Eddie shooting his cum deep inside his tight ass and your pussy gripping him like a vice, milking him for all he’s worth. He knows he’s gonna get a noise complaint from his neighbors, these walls aren’t too terribly thick.

Eddie kisses the scratches you’ve left on Buck’s shoulder blades before pulling out.

“Ohh my god” you whimper breathlessly feeling Eddie’s cum sliding from Buck’s hole and dripping down to your pussy. You feel it mixing with Buck’s cum sliding down onto the bed and you cum again, your body writhing against Buck’s.

Eddie falls onto the bed next to the both of you, panting and reaching out for you. Buck falls away and you drag yourself into Eddie’s arms.

“I feel like I say this too much. But I don’t think I can feel my dick.”

You giggle into Eddie’s shoulder and Buck wraps his arms around your waist, snuggling with you.

“He’s not wrong” Eddie runs a hand over his face “Fuck I need an ice cream cone”

“I thought it was supposed to be a cigarette?” Buck snickers

“Literally none of us smoke” You flick his hand and he takes yours, kissing the back of it dramatically.

“But…yeah I could go for ice cream.”

“So we’re getting ice cream? That’s the plan?” Buck takes his phone from the bedside table and starts looking for places and you turn around toward Eddie now, pushing your ass back against him and he smirks and holds your hips

“I’m kinda hungry too”

“Okay, so burgers?” He taps on his phone screen and Eddie nods

“Burgers. Did you want to go out or should we go get it and bring it home?”

“Bring it home” You pout “There’s no way I’m getting out of bed for at least three hours”

“I’ll keep that in mind too” Eddie smirks and kisses your nose “Love you pretty girl” He mumurs against your lips and your eyes widen.

“I love you too” You whisper back, You reach for Buck’s hand, pulling it to your lips.

Buck fake sniffles, wiping little crocodile tears.

“I love you too bros”

“I can’t believe you’re making me watch this”

Once they come back with the food Buck brings you into the living room wrapped up in a blanket. He sets you up with a little tray of your food and surrounds you with another fluffy blanket and three of his squishmallows.

They’d gone to your favorite diner and Eddie had to fight you not to ruin your appetite and have dinner before dessert. If the burgers weren’t so good you would have crawled over to the freezer yourself and gotten it out anyways.

Buck was very much for watching you crawl on your hands and knees.

Eddie sits next to you, getting comfy and handing you the remote and you scroll through Hulu while you wait for Buck to get his stuff together.

“You know what you should put on?” He comes into the living room with his food and plops down next to you.

“Already looking”

You wriggle excitedly and press play and Buck pops a fry in his mouth.

“Are you shitting me” Eddie watches the opening to Dirty Dancing playing and you and Buck both laugh at him.

“It’s our favorite!!” You squeal and Buck reaches over and gives him a fry for payment.

“She carries a watermelon!”

Eddie pretends for all of 20 minutes that he can’t stand that you’re both making him watch this movie. He acts like his feet aren’t tapping to the beat and like he doesn’t enjoy you and Buck mouthing almost every single freaking line.

Eventually, he’s got a pillow in his lap and he’s studying the screen intently.

“Oh god she cannot dance” Eddie cringes and you and Buck give each other a look. He’s totally hooked.

“Does Penny die?”

“We’re not telling you” Buck sips his drink.

“Wait- so?? Robbie’s an asshole?”

“Oh definitely!” You lay your head on his shoulder.

“….Does Penny die?”

“We’re not telling you! Quit asking!” Buck reaches over and shoves him away and Eddie shoves him back.

Eddie won’t admit his favorite part was when they’re dancing together and how their relationship changes during it, how he bites his lip thinking about having you pressed into his body like that because lord knows you dance better… How it reminds him of how much your relationship has changed.

By the end of the movie, Buck has spilled the beans on Eddie’s dancing background and now he and Buck are preparing to do the lift.

“If you don’t catch me I will actually kill you” Buck warns him, his back against the front door.

Eddie looks around at the space they’ve cleared and shrugs.

“If I don’t catch you you’ll be dead. Now shut up and run.”

Buck has to fight the urge to Naruto run, and jumps into Eddie’s arms.

You’re screaming, Buck is screaming and Eddie is spinning him around.

“Tell me you’re getting all of this” He yells, his arms out like he’s flying and you’re absolutely losing it while holding up the camera.

“This is the coolest thing ever!!!”

Eddie sets Buck down and he immediately collapses to the floor.

“That was the single greatest experience of my entire life.”

You go to sit on him and Eddie grabs your hand, spinning you away from him and pointing you toward the front door.

“Your turn Baby”

After both Buck and Eddie finally coax you into doing the freaking lift and Buck was right it was the greatest experience of your life Eddie forces you all into bed. Because it’s almost two in the morning and you two planned a surprise day with Buck.

Buck crawls into bed and lies out like a starfish, waiting for you and Eddie to come into the bedroom.

He couldn’t have dreamed of a better way to come home from work, than getting his brains fucked out. He can’t wait for this kind of thing to happen on the regular.

Sometimes Buck thought about the beginning of the three of you being together. He should have just asked you outright, he still apologized whenever he thought about it…. But now you three were here and in this moment together and he knew it was love.

The best part was knowing you two felt the same way.

Just as soon as he’s home he’s forcing you to move in with him so he can pin you to the bed and take you whenever he wants. Come to think of it… Eddie’s house place had more space…

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie’s got you on his back, he carries you over to the bed and dumps you onto the bed in a little pile. You giggle and set your stuff up on the nightstand while he walks around to the other side.

“Only a few more weeks” He smiles brightly, looking at you and then at Eddie and you smile softly, The love and adoration pouring from his soul makes your heart skip a beat.  

Eddie hits the lights and you snuggle into his side putting your head on one half of his chest and draping your arm across his torso. Eddie gets into the same position and you reach out, tangling your fingers in his hair.

Buck sighs softly, looking at the two people he loves the most in this world… if you guys were so dead set on visiting every chance you got maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“I promise.” 

[mylovesstuffs]

learning to be loved after forgetting what it feels like to be safe.

🥕 bae-sically fake. yoon jeonghan

a mylovesstuffs production...

“one hundred days for what?” / “for me to woo you.”

synopsis. you swear when you made up your fake relationship, you didn't know that someone worked at the coffee shop with the same name or that your family would go to check it out. now everyone thinks you guys are actually together, and, well, pretending to be fake partners has never been so complicated. jeonghan plays along, and even offers you a deal—100 days to let him try and woo your closed-off heart.

pairing. yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

genre/s. fake dating au, modern au, bit of social media au (?), romance, comedy, slice of life, slow burn, emotional healing

status. upcoming [estimated: ~ 40k words]

content warnings. mentions of past emotional abuse/manipulation, toxic ex, grooming mentioned [non-graphic but explicit reference], cheating and infidelity [past, non-graphic], mentions of underage grooming [girls legal but barely, predatory behavior], emotional trauma and flashbacks, ptsd-like emotional responses, manipulation disguised as affection [past], reference to stalking/following for confirmation of infidelity, heartbreak and betrayal, gaslighting implications [in past relationship], alcohol consumption, mild cursing/swearing, themes of grief and emotional vulnerability, soft romantic tension, no smut [so far; not written yet], emotionally guarded reader, indirect trauma references, workplace sexism [called out], fluffy but with realistic emotional baggage

will probably contain. fake dating, post-breakup healing, unexpected kindness, strangers-to-partners dynamic, deal-making [100 days to woo], soft and lover man!jeonghan, smart man!jeonghan protective best friends [celeste, seungkwan], healthy family, intense ex-relationship trauma, food symbolism [carrots, broccoli, lunches], slow emotional thawing, nice gestures [flowers, notes, meals], respect and gentle persistence, found family warmth, strong parent-daughter bond, work-life struggles, empowering ceo, flirtation, unspoken yearning, realistic emotional pacing [will be updated as chapters go on]

navigation/chapters & more under the cut ⟡

✦ navigation.

|| chapter one [wc: 14.4 k]

|| chapter two

|| chapter three

|| chapter four

last updated: 18.06.2025

querencia (spanish) /keh-REN-syah/ n. a place where one feels most at home; a source of strength and calm; a person or space where the soul feels safe without needing validation — often found not in places, but in people. “that name wasn’t meant to be a turning point, but somehow, it became hers — and he, her place.”

✦ in fiction we trust. love, celeste ˶ᵔ⤙ᵔ˶ so this fic is probably gonna be a long one [lmao oops] so i decided to split it into chapters. i’ve been wanting to explore some heavier themes for a while now [i promise, i kept it light], and this fic kind of became that space for me. despite the emotional grooming, infidelity, gaslighting, workplace sexism, and all that heavy stuff this fic touches on — one of the things i love most is that the reader has a genuinely healthy family. like actual supportive, emotionally present parents. and that’s something we don’t get to write often, so it means a lot to me. also the contrast between the two men… yeah. we’re gonna talk about that. and of course, we’ve got found family energy with the besties, so please look forward to their scenes too. also yes... i may or may not have written myself into the fic. yes it was intentional. yes i’m having fun with it 🤭

anyway that’s it for now. this fic went through a lot with me—emotionally and creatively—so i really hope you enjoy it and give it some love 🤍

ⓒ ! masterlist banner + dividers made by me. edits = google doc ss. photos from pinterest (ctto), prompt from my how do you fake it series ♡

started: 18.06.2025 — completed: dd.mm.yyyy

[malachitezmeyka]

600 words tonight, and good news, I finished the scene I was working on for almost two months. Unfortunately, that’s not the entire chapter as I decided to start with the scene I wanted to write most so I have to write another two that come before it now, but they’ll hopefully be a bit simpler and shorter

Also I’ve realised that rather than two chapters, this thing will have three, as it’s already long even with the one scene

[muli-wam]

Mommy, How Did You and Daddy Meet?

Meet-cute stories on how the JJK men first met their s/o.

Cw: canon divergent, fluff, smut (maybe), modern au

A/n: Each character will get 1-2 parts, maybe three if I'm feeling extra emotional and suddenly decide to make reader do something stupid and irreversible to the point where I have to make 5 extra chapters trying to resolve the conflict that **I** created ☺️☺️ I'm going to try and get half of Jesus whats a girl to do done and then start working on this soooo yeaaa

Taglist: OPEN

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Firefighter!Ryomen Sukuna

Coming soon...

Librarian!Kento Nanami

Coming soon...

Florist!Choso Kamo

Coming soon...

Repair Man!Toji Fushiguro

Coming soon...

Barista!Takuma Ino

Coming soon...

Artist!Suguru Geto

Coming soon...

Lifeguard!Satoru Gojo

Coming soon...

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Comment which fics you would like to be tagged in! (Example: you could say, "tag me in all of them please," or "Can you tag me in [x], [y], and [z], please." There is no limit just lmk which ones specifically, I dont want your notifs to go off for smth you wont even read 😭)

TAGLIST: OPEN

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

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It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

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The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

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They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Just sexual tension in this chap hehe, more explicit as we go. Gojo is really a dick at first FYI

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 4.2k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? .You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished. This was my first gojo fic so maybe a Lil less put together than my current ones

Masterlist- Playlist

Chapter 1

You looked up at him from your desk. You were tired, so damn tired. You needed a fucking break, a long one. Your mind wanders to that vacation away from Tokyo that will never happen, not because you don’t have vacation days or money. Nope, it was  because you work far too fucking much, twelve to sixteen hour days sometimes. For him, your damn boss, Satoru Gojo.

Always asking you to stay late, always running his errands, saving his ass, covering for him. Writing speeches, making presentations, finding him dates even. When Gojo wanted something, he got it, and it didn't matter if it ruined every plan you ever had, you had to get it done for him.

He ran casinos, owned a hotel, a nightclub, you name it, Satoru Gojo owned it. He’d inherited some from his family but mostly he was self made. Even the tower you worked in, Kamo Tower, was one of the best in the city. Everything Gojo touched seemed to turn to gold, or better yet platinum.

You had been so excited two years ago to be his intern, then ecstatic when you quickly moved up the ranks to be his head assistant. You made good money, enough to send home to your family and take care of them too. But you literally were constantly at that man's beck and call.

Your tired eyes lower as you rest your chin on your hand for a moment, for even last night at two am you'd had to run to his fucking rescue.

You were asleep, but the phone never stops fucking buzzing.

Dick boss: I need you.

You: no.

Dick boss: triple OT pay?

You: fuck. What is it?

Dick Boss: I'm in a bit of a bind…

The bind? Three passed out naked women in his bed, and a room destroyed, that he needed to get fixed so he could sleep. Yeah.

The night before? Well he had urgently needed you to pick out his outfit for his soiree, he was too coked out to pick apparently. And Gojo Satoru had so many three piece suits, ties and shoes, it was actually disgusting.

Nanami Kento walks up to you, overworked from his own boss in the building, a trait you two share as head assistants. He hands you a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, with your name written on it in sharpie, clearly from one of the coffee shops nearby. If you had time to have a fucking life you would have flirted with him, for sure. Maybe he would have, too?

Dirty blonde and handsome, his suit stretched across his muscles just so… and fuck if he didn’t look like he needed a damn vacation too.

“Long night?” Kento asked, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused and tired expression on his face. You sigh, nodding.

“Thank you for the coffee. I owe ya one.” You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper, but he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all. Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know.

“We don’t really get birthdays.”

“Haha no we don’t. But thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looked disgusted as he shook his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as Nanami walked off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, you must go to him. Your eyes roll.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, tapping your glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“My office.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was a source of annoyance for you.

“Coming.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone and sipping your coffee. The office coffee usually went cold daily with the amount of shit you had to do. You smooth down your dress, adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, woodsy and fresh, a signature fragrance that lingered in the space, distinctive to Gojo.

As you enter, you see Gojo himself reclining casually in a lavish chair, his signature Gucci sunglasses on, covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciated because he made shit hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

“Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all.” He smirked, arrogant. You grit your teeth. “You have two meetings today, Sir, one for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that, I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.” You sigh, shutting the door behind you, resting your aching head against it.

“I asked for tonight off.” You murmur, and Gojo scoffs, grinning, damn fangs like some vampire glinting from the sun that beamed in. He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“I'll pay you well. Plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit. Drinks and food.”

“As your date?” You blink, pursing your lips.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario.” He laughed at his own joke, a habit he certainly had.

“Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially me . I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy. I need you, law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too. So it’s a no brainer.” You sighed, the comment about eye candy biting.

Men hit on you pretty frequently, any time you weren’t working, which you could not say was very often. But of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to look like a model, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty… is what you're saying.”

He pauses then, frowning at you. “You're very pretty.” He'd never said that. He'd barely complimented your work. You catch your breath; looking up at him, curious how he had gotten just an inch away.

“‘Not eye candy.’”

“We'll no, you dress kinda boring… like business and shit. Not sexy at all. I mean I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit?”

You snort. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks. But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.” Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted.

You were almost immune to that by now.

“It's my fucking birthday and you want me to do overtime?” You demand, and frowns with those full lips.

“Birthday?” Gojo looks confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient.

“Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe. But it’s my third birthday here, and you never give me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have plans, hot shot?” Gojo chuckles, his tone mocking.

No. Sure don't. “Yep.” You lie. He knows.

“Cancel em.” He shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl.

“No.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments.

“No?” No one turned Gojo down. No one ever told the gorgeous CEO no. His six foot four frame hunched as he placed an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features. You bravely glare back up at him.

“No. Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday.”

“Have fun with me. And make killer money. Win win.”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm.” He tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact. “I'll make it fun. Promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

“I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too.”

“You're my best, though, I need you.”

Bastard.

“Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a breath as he backs away. “Good. I'll have the outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this one.”

“Probably not. Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?” Your cheeks overheat. Though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a damn vagina, and it reacted to him. He chuckled deeply, turning away and waving a hand. “You're dismissed.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just work. Work for Gojo.

***

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh.” You grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup, for once having fun with it. If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it. Lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your white day bed. You sigh, opening it finally, and you blink rapidly as you look at the gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of Gojo himself. You gently pulled out the gown and most of your irritation died off.

Black and decked with sequins, it glittered in the light, it was a velvety fabric, as soft as a caress. As you slid it on it glided over your curves, accentuating the nip at your waist, the arch of your hips. The neckline plunged ridiculously low, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work. You wonder how Gojo knew you had just so much up top…

Pervert is what he was.

Pervert with killer taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your well toned thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was if he truly knew every measurement you had, for the dress could not have hit any better. Those damn analyzing eyes of his…

You spun to look at the back of the dress, which dipped daringly as well, exposing an expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You rummage through your little cherry wood jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress. Luckily, everything went well with black, so you snatched up a pretty silver cross necklace and earrings.

A text pops up, and you read it.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, then slide on a pair of black heeled boots, contemplating putting on underwear. Did it matter what kind? It wasn’t like you’d had any dick since like college at this point. And you definitely weren’t fucking Gojo, since neither of you were interested.

You because you saw the girls he fucked. Him because… you weren’t ‘arm candy’. Or a dumb ass bimbo. Sometimes you wished you were, since they seemed sweet and happy in life, while you drowned.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…”

Fucking Gojo. Ugh. You decide to slide on some lacy boy shorts, just in case that slit did go too high you’d have some coverage. Peeking one last time at the mirror, you had to admit you looked beautiful. You text Gojo.

You: Coming now.

You locked up and headed down the stairs of the apartment building, and there was Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was your age now. That boggled your mind more than Nanami. Gojo wore people out, very clearly, but even you had it easier than Kiyotaka.

“My lady.” He said sweetly, and you smiled at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head rested back so that his throat was exposed. His head snapped down, and he looked right at you, no sunglasses, only those eyes. His lips parted, and you tensed, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one.

He blinked those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shut the door, gaze taking you in ever so slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head a bit.

“Thank you for the dress.” You cut him off. He exhaled, nodding.

“Of course. Consider it my birthday gift. You look… really fucking hot.”

You giggled at that. Not beautiful or breathtaking. But you’d take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you now, and you shiver a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t dress like this at work.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so.” His fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sent tingles through your body. Why was he so close? “I’m buying you a new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are. I like to be professional, unlike you.” You smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grew cold without the touch.

“You do really look good.” You took in his outfit, a black tux, which fit his slim muscles perfectly. It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear. Maybe Gojo was some super hero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too. You always do.”

“I know.” He winked at you, leaning forward to snatch up champagne and pop it, pouring you both glasses. You took one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, taking a sip of the sweet drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious.” You lick your lower lip and find him a breath away. You don’t move, but you’re frozen, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asked softly. You have never seen Gojo like this.

“How did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl.” He gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? The fuck, Satoru. Yes I was thinking of it, an seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny. His eyes study your own seriously.

“If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.” Each word was bit out, distinctive, and his hand tightened in your hair, far too strong, yanking your head back. You scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, would I?” You challenged him, notching your chin up a bit. He laughed but it was without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office? How many have you had to send home? You think I don’t know how to fuck the shit out of you if I wanted to. You wouldn’t even be able to walk.”

Gojo’s whisper was against your lips, and you could taste whiskey on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucked on. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him…

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it. You don’t want me anyway. Not your type.” He snorted, and one of his big hands came to your waist, touching the bare skin of your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?” You nod. His thumb brushed under your breast, an action that made the peaks of your breasts tighten, aching against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down. You cursed yourself. “The women who entertain me aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm.” It grew difficult to focus. You sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays. “It doesn’t matter. You’re talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightened, and it made you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any. I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, trying to get him off of you. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know. I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

“As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit.” You grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slapped him then. Slapped your Boss. Slapped Satoru Gojo.

His hand caught your wrist, brutally squeezing, pale cheek just hinted with pink from your mark.

“Ring a little true?”

“I can get fucked if I want.” You yank your hand back.

“I didn’t say that. Clearly you can get fucked. It’s just you don’t even want to and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time.” Gojo’s eyes widened at that, and his grip on your waist became brutal. “Yep. Sure would. He’s built as fuck, oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would. So does that answer it for you?”

Gojo bared his teeth at her, a little blue vein in his temple popping out. Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears. “You… would fuck… Nanami… Kento?”

Each of his words were forced through his teeth.

Ah, you made him mad.

Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot.” You try to shrug casually.

“Out of anyone in the office?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Including me.”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a dude…

Look at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand caught your chin, forcing your gaze to his piercing one. You gulp, licking your lips.

“No.”

“No, what?” His voice was a wicked caress.

“No… not including you. Goddammit. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffed. “You’re childish.”

“You!” You shoved at him again, and he let you go, grabbing your glass and refilling it, watching you like a hawk. “It changes nothing. I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better.” He sounded sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downed his own glass.

“You think fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot. I’m the best fuck there is.” He shrugged, some of that casual demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…”

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words.” You scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by.

“Are we there yet?”

“Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm. Or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag.”

“I do not! And I am not!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You felt your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks.

“Oh, do tell.” He practically purred.

“Cut the shit, Satoru. You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off in women. Or on them.” He shrugged, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!”

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe.” You blinked, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.” Gojo lifted your hand, already small but ridiculously small in his own, swallowed by him. “They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper shook you to your core.

You burned, breathless, as he held out his own hand to yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of a dude’s dick. Likely larger than the couple of dude’s in college, which was about all of your experience. He grinned as you stared on, palm hot and hard against your own.

“I… you…” You wanted to cuss him out. Quit right then.

You also wanted his fingers in you.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood. We don’t have to have sex for that.” His hand took your own, putting your hand by your heat, between your thighs.

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You managed to breathe out, but you had no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to ride your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant.” Gojo’s supple lips kiss down your jaw, firm but delicate, as his hand brutally grabs yours and shoves it against yourself, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s a whisper. You want it. And you hate him. You hate that your pussy is pulsing against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan in your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came. Gojo slid his own finger against your panties, pausing, moaning again, pulling back to look at you.

He was gorgeous.

Your chest rose and fell with your breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered, and something was just different. You saw Gojo with women, always so self assured. But something seemed surprised, vulnerable, when his long finger pressed against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. You arched your hips up, and his fingertip ran up slightly, pressing more, and Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady.”

Fuck.

You two shot apart, and you struggled to catch your breath, adjusting your dress, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo adjusted his pants, not even looking at you, clearing his throat. You cursed as you saw his tie.

“You can’t tie a tie for shit, Satoru.” You leaned over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it. You noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was quiet. Satoru Gojo, quiet. “There.”

“Thanks.” He said gruffly, and your eyes met.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opened the door, exposing them to some cool night air, and you got out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

Chapter 2

Completed fic on ao3, will post chaps on here as well

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/140629990

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 7- the true princess of Wayne Manor

Short chapter*

_____________________________

"(Name)... I noticed something from you" Dick says "When you try something new, you stop pursuing it if you're not immediately good at it"

A reincarnated and two vigilantes go rock climbing, sounds like the start of an awful joke huh?

After the continued event of you encountering the villains and school shooters, they decided to teach you some stuff, Karate, Muay Thai, Taekwondo, jujitsu, painting, swimming, Camping, Ziplining, trying the scary roller coaster rides-

Huh?

This is slowly starting to feel like family outings

You jump further up "What do you mean?", He looks up at you "I mean... When we went swimming and Damian dived you wanted to try it out too, but when you realized you couldn't do it you just stopped, but when we tried archery and you could do it, you wanted to stay there longer"

"I just don't want to keep on trying on a lost cause, I hate feeling helpless and disappointed" you say, as you three reached the top, you rest for a bit and Jason hands you a bottle of water "what kind of helpless?" He asked

"When mom was sick, we had one problem, and it was money, I thought to myself that it'll be okay since I know how to make money, just give me a couple of months and we'll have what we need, turns out we didn't have a couple of months, I worked really hard and I was just disappointed that I couldn't save her, there I promised myself I wouldn't try on a lost cause" you drank the whole bottle and even burped after"Excuse me"

"I mean" you stated "Why didn't you think I never even tried to get along with you guys, first meeting Damian calls me an 'it', who'd expect family after that" you laugh

Nevermind the fact that you know you're in a world where they're not supposed to love you

After losing your family the first time, and your mom the second time, knowing you'll have no one after that was depressing, you wanted to at least defy the system, you told yourself that if you tried to get along with them, maybe they'll accept you

The system quickly shut that thought down by telling you that "In any of the fics you've read, were any of the readers successful?"

Basically telling you that if in the fiction you've read no main character succeeded, you trying to gain their love would do nothing, you'd just set yourself up for failure

Reader... I'm sorry but you are on the verge of failing, at this rate, you won't get the special reward...

You look up at the screen in curiosity, their hatred meter was on 2%, but the past few days that the new vigilante Protagonist has been fighting with the bat family, it went up again to 15%, and whenever they spend time with you it goes down again, when they spend time with protagonist it goes up again, you honestly have no idea what's going on

Bruce's hatred meter is already in the negatives, if all of them go to the negatives you've failed

Dick hugs you "Let's go shopping" he smiles

____________________________

And you find yourself at the mall, you find some books you think you'll like and Jason pays for you, you find some clothes you think you'll like and Dick pays for you

They both drag you to a dress store, and to be honest you feel like you're forgetting something really important

You open your phone to find no messages, not from your friends or anyone

They settle you with a black dress you like, of course they'd pick something in their color, and you ride the taxi home

The Manor is eerie and quiet, Alfred isn't there to greet your return and frankly you're worried, he's always there to greet us, did something happen?

The Joker attacked? But you didn't see any bat patrolling? And why would Dick and Jason be with you?

You open the doors of the manor and-

"Happy birthday (Name)!" They yell, there you see Alfred, your friends, children from the orphanage you visit, the children you tutor, and some paparazzi, some rich looking people you don't know, and holy fuck- is that the justice league in civilian form!?!? oh and also your family is here

Right.

It's your 16th birthday...

And this... Is your first official Wayne Gala

You totally forgot.

You rarely celebrate your birthday... Because sometimes, the system tells you to celebrate it alone, sometimes it doesn't, you only remember your birthday when the system makes a mission surrounding it

Shit.

You can't get out of this one

Bruce smiles at you and he takes your hand the music starts

Another shit.

Is this a father-daughter dance?

It is.

Everyone is eager to see it, the paparazzi has cameras pointed at the both of you, your friends are smiling enjoying the party, and the kids are laughing

"(Name) Looks like a princess!" A kid says

You laugh uncomfortably "I don't know how to dance" you whisper to your father (that's a lie, you're amazing), he then places your feet to step on his "that's fine" he says

Then you he dances, his feet guide yours and it becomes this adorable moment where dad doesn't mind that his daughter doesn't know how to dance and is just happy that your in his arms

You are screaming on the inside.

How could you forget about something like this!?!?

You see his hatred meter drop even more, then you see the others, from 15% it goes to 10% then 5% then-

The dance finishes, the crowd claps and cheers, the dance showing you and your father's closeness...

Then a girl speaks "Excuse me?" She says, Everyone's attention is on her and she smiles, she runs to your father "I'm so happy to finally meet you!" She holds his hands pushing you away

Bruce pulls away from her "What are you doing!?" He glared

She looked flustered but smiled either way, she pulled out some documents and gave it to Bruce

"I thought it would be the right moment to tell you since everyone is here... I'm your long lost daughter Viviana!"

_____________________________

EHEHEHEHEHHEHE MANHWA READERS YALL PROLLY KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING

____________________________

@jellyedkazoo @vanilliona @shyenemyperson @popboomcha @plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist @justatimidcreator

[corkinavoid]

Case File: Nosy Neighbor

Stepping into the hallway of his apartment building, Tim realizes three things at once.

One, he looks like a wreck: hair disheveled from when he kept twirling the ends of it without thinking as he worked, blouse wrinkled, lipstick gone entirely from biting on his lips. Not to mention that he is carrying his heels in hand — he took them off in the Uber and didn't bother putting them on just to go up a floor.

Two, he completely forgot about his promise to move out first thing in the morning, a promise that he made because he didn't want to deal with Aggie's assumptions about his job. Mainly because he can't even disprove them — the sweet, nice old lady wouldn't believe a word he says, especially if he starts insisting she's wrong.

Three, he'd greatly underestimated the level of her thirst for juicy gossip, it seems.

Because here she is, Agatha Patel in all her glory, wearing an apron that's seen better days, a crocheted shawl, and fluffy slippers, holding Colonel Mustard (Tim has never seen an uglier dog in his life) in her arms. At 3 am, in the middle of a hallway.

Tim would have thought she's sleepwalking, if he didn't know better. That lady is here solely for the drama of it, even if it comes at a cost of Tim's misery.

For a minute or two, they both just stand there and stare at each other. Tim has no idea what Aggie is waiting for, but he is staying quiet in hopes of her surrendering and going back to her apartment. The chances of that are lower than the probability of good weather in Gotham, but hope dies last and all that.

Aggie's sharp, innocent eyes scan him like an x-ray.

"Rough night, dear?" She asks finally, in that trademark 'everything you say and anything you don't say can be used against you' tone that all meddling grandmothers use to start a conversation.

Tim sighs. Rough is sure one word to describe it, okay.

To hell with it, actually.

"Yeah," he smiles at the lady, making an effort to sound raspy and tired, "My boss's godson decided to join us midway."

Agatha's eyes widen just slightly. "Oh, my," she breathes out, shaking her head in disapproval. It doesn't fool Tim for one moment, but he is fully aware of what conclusions his neighbor draws; he worded it that way on purpose.

"You don't know the half of it, Aggie," he rolls his eyes in feigned exasperation and moves, making his way to his door. "At least he is my age, and easy on the eyes; my boss is just an old creep all over," he keeps talking, searching for the keys in his purse.

Not a single lie, technically: Danny is very much good-looking, and Vladimir is old and is a creep, his moral alignment aside.

He can't see Agatha, but he can absolutely feel the overwhelming curiosity coming from her in waves, like heat from a radiator.

"Goodness gracious," she says, sympathetic, as Tim finally unlocks his door.

"Just between you and me, Aggie," he turns around, winking at her, "I really hope that godson is single."

"Oh, good luck, Caroline dear," the lady wishes, and it actually sounds sincere. Tim smiles at her — he didn't expect that, but it does feel nice.

"Good night, Mrs. Patel," he says, and then waves his hand at her dog, "Good night, Colonel Mustard."

The dog licks its crooked teeth, watching him. Agatha nods, a pleased, weirdly caring smile on her wrinkly face, "Good night, Caroline."

Tim closes the door and slides down by the wall, holding back his giggling. The soundproofing in this building is atrocious, and he doesn't want Aggie to think he is playing her.

Especially because he's not, apparently.

–○–

This is a part of the 'Crime Scene Do Not Cross' fic and takes place after Chapter 2.

Agatha is nice, she's just bored out of her mind in her retirement and prefers live-action drama instead of soap operas. She also bakes absolutely killer quiches and pies and likes to give them out to her neighbors, seemingly at random. Unbeknownst to them, she is keeping a gossip record on all of them and gives her baked goods only to those who score top ten monthly.

Tim is about to get a pecan pie that he'll beg Agatha to give him a recipe for, just so he can ask Alfred to make it again.

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for  around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!! 

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt. 

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of. 

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so. 

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life. 

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.” 

You mirror their gesture as well. 

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is. 

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case. 

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor. 

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time. 

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?” 

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle. 

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together. 

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor. 

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you. 

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.” 

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.” 

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?” 

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.” 

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?” 

“Yeah. Later.” 

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.” 

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.” 

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.” 

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago. 

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case. 

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him. 

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously. 

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate. 

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu. 

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill. 

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.” 

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.” 

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions. 

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers 

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there. 

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake. 

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.   

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already. 

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?” 

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.” 

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting. 

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary. 

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text. 

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you. 

You don’t really know how that makes you feel. 

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door. 

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again. 

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything. 

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”  

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app. 

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here. 

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay. 

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside. 

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird. 

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that. 

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual. 

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open. 

“Hi.” You smile. 

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?” 

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.” 

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.” 

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?” 

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.” 

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.” 

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.” 

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies. 

“Okay, Anton Ego.”  

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon. 

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him. 

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago. 

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous. 

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering. 

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little. 

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you. 

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.” 

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly. 

“__,” Sol calls beside you. 

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.” 

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer. 

“Okay. Just text me.” 

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office. 

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm. 

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text. 

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch? 

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend. 

You receive a reply a few seconds after. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __  I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks. 

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria. 

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure. 

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate. 

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast." 

You laugh at his squinted eyes. 

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back. 

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

     — Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

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[whatdoeseverybodywant]

TORN - Chapter 3

Synopsis: One night, that's all it took for Josh and India to fall for each other. One night was all it took for her life to turn upside down. She thought she had found the one. Then he had told her the truth... he had someone waiting for him... someone whom he had betrayed to be with India.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warnings: mentions of cheating, emotional abuse, toxic partners.

Atlanta, Georgia

Janae and Trinity sat at the kitchen island, a variety of barbecue sat in front of them, hot off the grill. 

“Wait, so the little girl is six months old?” Trinity asked, still chewing a piece of chicken, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

Janae nodded, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back in her chair. “Yeah,” She scoffed. “The mom only told Josh about her three months ago, which is extremely convenient.” Janae lied. 

Trinity arched an eyebrow at Janae. She could tell Janae was lying but decided to let it slide,  for now. There was something about the way Janae's eyes darted around the room that told her there was more to the story, but she wasn’t about to press her. Not yet, anyway. Instead, she took another bite of her food, trying to gauge Janae's mood.

“Did he tell you who the woman is?” 

Janae nodded and grabbed her phone. She unlocked it and handed it over to Trinity. Trinity took the phone and scrolled through the profile. She wasn’t going to lie; the woman was beautiful, and so was the baby she had plastered all over her profile. 

“She’s really pretty,” Trinity said, handing the phone back to Janae. “But y’all had broken up, right? He hadn’t cheadted on you?” 

Janea scoffed at Trinity's comment about India being pretty. “We had an argument, and he stormed out. He said thats the night the fucked so yes, he cheated.” 

Trinity made a face and picked up her fork to continue eating. She could feel Janae getting agitated. This obviously was a sore subject for Janae, but Trinity could tell she was withholding a lot of information. 

“He went to go see them last week,”  Janae said after a minute of silence between the two. 

“Really?” Trinity asked, genuinely surprised. “He didn’t mention it.” 

Janae rolled her eyes and threw her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not surprised. He thinks I’m forcing him. Like, sir, you cheated. The least you can do is try to get custody of the little girl. He already has one other baby mom. Now I gotta deal with another one?” 

“Pause,” Trinity said, holding her hand up. “Custody?” 

“Look,” Janae scoffed. “He had a baby on me. He’s lucky me and Micah are still in this house.” She said with a roll of her eyes. I told him that if he wanted us to stay together, he would need to marry me and get full custody of that little girl.” 

Trinity blinked, her mouth slightly open in shock. "Wait, hold on," she said, leaning in. "You told him what?"

Janae crossed her arms over her chest, clearly trying to defend herself but also looking a little nervous under Trinity's intense gaze. "I told him, if he wanted to stay with me, he had to marry me and get full custody of the baby. I’m not dealing with another baby momma situation, Trinity. I’ve already got Jeremi’s mom, and now I have to share him with another woman? No thanks."

Trinity sat back, her eyes narrowing. “So, you’re saying you put that condition on him? Marry you and get custody of a baby that isn’t even yours?”

Janae shrugged, trying to look unaffected. “Yeah. And I’m not sorry. If he wants to keep his family together, he has to show me he’s serious. I’m not going to play second fiddle to some random chick and her kid.”

“Wow.” Trinity chuckled as she shook her head. “You want him to take away a baby from their mom? Is that not crazy to you?” 

“No.” Janae shrugged and picked up her glass, taking a long sip. Her gaze hardened as she set it down. "I don’t care about India’s feelings. All I want is for her to be gone and out of our lives. This whole situation is just a mess, and I’m not about to sit here and pretend like it’s not affecting me. Josh made this decision, not me. He’s the one who cheated, and now I have to live with this kid and this woman being part of our lives. I’m not dealing with it."

Janae stood from her chair abruptly, her movements sharp, as if the conversation had reached a point where she couldn’t handle any more. Without a word, she turned and walked away, her footsteps heavy but determined, leaving Trinity sitting at the kitchen island, staring after her.

Josh could feel Jon’s gaze on him as he flipped the chicken over on the grill. Josh sighed and closed the lid to the grill before turning to face his twin brother. 

“You tryna feed the homeless too?” Jon tried to joke, pointing to the aluminum pan that was almost overflowing with barbecue chicken. 

“Nah,” Josh muttered, grabbing his beer that was on the ground next to him, “Just not tryna go inside.” 

Jon raised an eyebrow, sensing the tension in Josh’s voice. He leaned against the porch railing, still watching him closely. “This about India or Janae?” 

“Shit…” Josh trailed off, rubbing a hand down his face. “Both, I guess.”  

Jon waited until Josh took the remainder of the chicken off the grill. After Josh set the aluminum pan down. Jon led his brother over to the pool. They both sat on the edge with their feet hanging in the pool. 

Josh let out a long breath, staring at the ripples in the water below them, his mind spinning with everything that had been happening. He wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated with himself or the situation, but either way, he was stuck. “I don’t know what the hell to do anymore,”  Josh finally whispered.  He looked up and looked over to where Jeremi and Micah were playing with Jon’s two kids. He could picture them in a couple of years, playing with Egypt as well. 

 He looked up and glanced over to where Jeremi and Micah were playing with Jon’s two kids in the backyard. They were laughing, running around in the grass, completely oblivious to the grown-up problems swirling in the air around them.

For a moment, Josh just watched them, the sound of their carefree laughter making him feel like he was a world away from the weight on his shoulders. He could picture them in a couple of years—still together, still laughing, but with Egypt. 

He looked towards the house, where he could see Janae and Trinity throught the sliding glass door. He blinked, and the image transformed. Instead of Janae talking with Trinity, it was India leaning in, laughing at something Trinity had said. The two of them were talking like they’d known each other forever.

“You hear me talkin’ to you?” 

Josh was brought out of his daydream as Jon shoved him a little bit. “Sorry.” He muttered. “Whatchu say?” 

“It don’t even matter.” Jon chuckled. “But uh, I see that rock on Nae’s finger. Y’all finally tying the knot, huh?” 

A deeper scowl was now on Josh’s face as he rubbed his hand across his jaw. “More like she forcing me.” 

“What?” Jon asked. 

Josh let out a sharp sigh, running his hand through his hair as he looked away, clearly agitated. “To marry her,” he said, his words coming out heavier than he meant. “After she found out about Egypt, she basically gave me an ultimatum. Marry her and get custody of Egypt or she’s leaving and taking Micah with her. 

Jon's eyes widened slightly as he processed what Josh had just said. "Wait, what?" he asked again, his voice a little more incredulous this time. "She gave you an ultimatum? That's... that's messed up, uce."

Josh let out another frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "Yeah, I know," he muttered. "It feels like I'm being backed into a corner. After everything with India and Egypt,  she’s acting like the only way we can move forward is if I marry her and get full custody of Egypt. Like, if I don’t, everything falls apart."

Jon watched Josh, his expression turning serious as he took in his brother’s words. “That’s a lot to put on someone. You didn’t even know about Egypt until recently, right?”

“No.” Josh gritted out. He was tired of lying. Tired of putting on a front. “We both found out the day India told me she was pregnant.” 

“Uce -” Jon started, loss for words. 

“Man, look. Janae said some foul ass shit to me. About me, our family, my career, and I was done. I walked out of the house. Fully done with her and her bullshit. India had some type of event here, so I just pulled up. One thing led to another, and next thing I knew, I was in her hotel room.” Josh downed the rest of his beer. “I was done. I was interested in India. Janae and I weren’t even speaking for about 3 weeks, Uce. I thought we were done until she came to me and had some sob story about how she wanted to work on us, and she wasn’t ready to let me go or something.” 

“So why didn’t you just leave? If you were done, why not just go?” 

“I don’t know.” Josh snapped. “My head was a mess. I had fell for India uce, and then, shit” He breathed out. Guilt gnawing at his stomach. “After I told Nae ‘bout India, she threatened to leave and take Micah with her. I couldn’t let her do that, Uce. So I had to cut India off.” 

Jon’s expression softened slightly, but the seriousness never left his gaze. He could see the turmoil eating at Josh, and he could tell this wasn’t just about India or Janae—it was about Josh’s struggle with himself.

“Then when India called and told me she was pregnant.” Josh sniffled as he tried to keep his tears at bay. “I fucked up Uce. I made the decision to not be in India’s or Egypt's life. I thought... I thought it was the right thing to do, Uce. That I had to focus on Janae and Micah and Jeremi.” One tear slid down Josh’s cheek. “I had a family, Uce. I  thought I could just turn the page and forget about India and Egypt, that I could focus on what I had with Janae and the kids... but everyday that shit haunted me. Every day I woke up thinking how India looked carrying my child. Thinking if she would even let me into the delivery room when she gave birth just…” Josh trailed off, wiping his tears away. “I wanted to be there for my daughter. I didn’t want her to grow up without a dad.” 

Jon sat quietly, absorbing Josh’s words, his expression softening with each one. He could see the raw emotion in his brother, the pain of carrying a decision he’d made out of guilt and confusion. He knew Josh was torn between two families—one that had been his for years and the other that had suddenly become a reality in his life.

“I missed the first three months of my daughters life cause I was being a selfish asshole.” Josh’s voice cracked as the words tumbled out, the guilt heavy in his chest. 

Jon moved closer to his twin, pulling him into his arms, letting him cry. “You can’t change what happened, Uce.” Jon’s voice was soft as he talked to his brother. “You’re trying now, and that’s a good thing.” 

 Josh’s body shook with emotion, the weight of his choices, his regrets, and everything he’d been holding back coming to the surface. It felt like the dam had broken, the flood of guilt, frustration, and helplessness pouring out all at once.

“I just don’t want to screw it all up,” Josh murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to be there for Egypt. I don’t want her to grow up thinking I didn’t want her.”

Jon squeezed him tighter, holding him steady. “You’re not screwing it up, Uce. You’re showing up now. That’s what matters. It’s not perfect, but you’re here. You’re trying to make it right.”

Dallas, Texas

“You’re such a pretty girl,” India cooed as she genly rocked Egypt in her arms. Her voice was soft and full of warmth as she smiled down at her daughter.  Egypt's big, curious eyes looked up at her, and India couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of love and responsibility. She had done everything she could to make sure Egypt felt safe and loved, even when everything around her seemed to be falling apart.

She let out a sigh as her phone began to ring. She looked at the time on her watch and groaned. 

“Hello…” She said as Josh’s face popped up on the FaceTime call. She bit her lip as she took him in. He looked extremely tired. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a little messy, and there was a weight to his expression that made India pause. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, like something was eating at him. But he still made butterflies erupt in her belly. 

He had broken her heart multiple times but, she couldn’t help the love she still felt for him. 

"Hey, India," Josh said, his voice rough and unsure. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing around for a moment before focusing on the screen again. “I was jus’ callin’ to say goodnight to Egypt.” 

India nodded and turned the phone so Egypt and Josh could see each other. Egypt’s eyes lit up as she focused on Josh on the screen. She let out a happy screech, kicking her tiny little feet. 

Josh’s face softened, a mix of tenderness and guilt crossing his features as he watched Egypt react. She was so small, so innocent. She didn’t deserve a father who abandoned her for the first three months of her life.  

“Hey, baby girl,” Josh said, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned in closer, his eyes filled with longing and regret. “I miss you so much.” 

Egypt’s bottom lip started to quiver as she tried to reach out for Josh. Her eyes were wide with confusion, not fully understanding why Josh wasn’t there to hold her but feeling the absence of his presence deeply. A soft, pitiful sound escaped her, the first hint of distress she’d shown since the call started.

“I’m sorry, Mamas.” Josh’s voice cracked as he could only watch through the phone as India tried to console Egypt. 

India had the set the phone up so she could use both hands to rocks and relax Egypt. Josh watched as she rocked Egypt, singing softly as she rubbed her back. In no time, Egypt had dosed off in India’s arms, her tiny snores making Josh chuckle softly. 

“Can I come see her?” 

India nodded as she laid Egypt down in her crib. “You’re her dad, Josh. You can come see her whenever.” She muttered before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Egypt's forehead. 

“Thank you,” Josh muttered, and India shrugged. “I - I don’t wanna miss out anymore. She’s getting so big.” 

“Yeah…” India trailed off as she looked down at her baby girl. “She’s gonna be walking before we know it. She’s trying to crawl already.” 

Josh’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. He was missing so much, and he didn’t know how to make up for it. Every milestone, every laugh, every moment that Egypt had without him. It all felt like a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be the dad she deserved. And that started with showing up. 

Author's Note: Whew... this was kinda an emotional one for Josh. Trinity didn't like that custody shit at all. Janae seems like she needs therapy, and India just wants to heal from all of this. 😮‍💨

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

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[hellfirenacht]

Anomaly Chapter 8

Fic Summary: You can talk to anyone in school with no problem. At least, anyone who’s not named Eddie Munson.

Chapter Summary: Eddie tries to make a connection, but unfortunately he is Eddie Munson

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, one-sided enemies to lovers, one-sided pining, miscommunication trope, anxious-ish!Reader, fem!Reader, Reader is not described, no use of Rachel, Rise of Hellfire characters

Word Count: 4.5k words

Authors Notes: Okay, this chapter is all over the place and I'm sorry about that. I re-wrote this a few times and I'm still not happy with it but it gets us where we need to go, like a sketchy gas station. Also this is ANGST.

Master List

Eddie felt confident about three things about himself; he knew he was a good Dungeon Master, he knew that he was skilled on guitar, and finally he was able to get a fairly good read on people if they could talk to him like a normal person for three fucking minutes.

That third thing was very helpful with the first. By knowing his players and how they worked and what made them tick, he was able to craft amazing stories that were satisfying to his players and their characters. 

It was also helpful when Eddie was earning his extra money on the side. Knowing who was genuinely safe to sell to was important when it seemed like everyone and their mother had a target on his back for no good reason. Stacy had been safe to sell to with her no-bullshit approach. The art kids were a safe bet in most cases when they needed to be “inspired”. And Chrissy Cunningham... well, he gave that shot but she never showed up. 

You had talked to him as a person the day that the two of you had snuck off for a smoke break when you were supposed to be calling businesses. You made small talk with him about his club. In those moments you treated him like an actual person, and he thought that maybe he had been wrong about you. 

And then he walked into school and saw you talking to Stacy. You looked pissed and Eddie, being the virtuous man he was in a small town, decided to eavesdrop on the conversion. 

“What’s your problem this morning?” Stacy laughed as you rummaged through your locker as best you could with one hand. 

“Eddie. Eddie is my problem. He’s always my problem.” You groaned. “I’d be perfectly fine and dandy otherwise.” 

Right, of course. You were just humoring him these past few days. Eddie always thought that you wore your emotions on your sleeve like he did. You had shown your dislike, but he thought you would have calmed down after the time you had spent together. 

Eddie kept listening though, because he wasn’t about to be that dipshit that heard something out of context just to misinterpret it. Maybe you weren’t talking about him. Maybe there was another Eddie he didn’t know. Hell, maybe you had a personal grudge against Van Halen. He’d have to judge your taste, but at least it wouldn’t be about him.

Why did he care so much?

“I’m really just exhausted.” You sighed. “I’m feeling too much at once lately, and all I want is a normal boring day. Between the wrist, my grades, Benson, and the whole Eddie thing- I’m just about running on fumes.” 

The whole Eddie thing. So there was a thing with him. Was he why you were exhausted? No, you just said it was more than him. Eddie found himself hoping that he was closer to the bottom of the list. 

The two of you had, what he had thought, was a really pleasant conversation when the two of you hung out behind the school. You had listened to him talk about his hobby, you two had discussed the alignments of water fowl. Eddie thought that things were going to be more amicable between the two of you. 

Guess not. 

Eddie moved away before he was caught eavesdropping. 

He tried to shake it off. It’s not like this was unusual; Eddie was used to people (usually his customers) playing nice in private and then ignoring his existence once back in society. 

It just didn’t make any fucking sense to him, no matter how he turned it in his mind. Those people never listened to him ramble about his game, let alone remember enough details to bring up so naturally with him. 

The whole Eddie thing. The conversation between you and Stacy shifted to other things and Eddie walked away. He’d rather you just come out and tell him what was wrong rather than just seeth at him from a distance. Everyone else in this shithole had the decency to make it clear what about him they didn’t like. And what a list there was! His hair, his clothes, his music, his grades, his speeches, his outspokenness, the way he’d lean into being a Satan Spawn to piss everyone off even though it was a load of bull- there was a long list that you could pick from!

If anyone had to make a guess, it was probably because you were so quiet about your dislike that pissed him off. If you would have just given him any of the reasons you didn’t like him then he could shrug it off and move on. Eddie wasn’t as self-aware as he would assume he was in this situation, and so your continuous ire irritated him to no end like a scratchy tag on a new t-shirt. It was always just barely there, no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. 

All he needed was one reason to drop it and to just carry on. And so, at the end of Benson’s class he offered to carry your books for you again and escort you to the cafeteria. You had gaped at him for a moment, probably for continuous nerve he had to speak to you when others were around, but accepted his help. 

The small talk was nothing to write home about; the test, Spring Day, your “extra credit”, and of course the infamous Pep Rally Incident. 

“You looked like you would have been anywhere else during the pep rally.” you had said. 

“I tried to skip, but I got caught.” Eddie had been skipping pep rallies for so long, and no one had ever given a shit before. In his humble opinion, they should be begging him to stay a thousand feet away from the gym at all times, lest his lack of school spirit affect and disillusion his fellow classmates. 

“Try breaking your wrist next time. It got me out of it.” Eddie hated that you amused him. Why were moments like this so easy, but you always looked at him so intensely? What was The whole Eddie thing?  

“You broke your wrist trying to apologize, I wouldn’t apologize to anyone in this shithole.” Eddie said without thinking. He’d be willing to apologize if he was wrong, being no stranger to humble pie as one Ronnie Ecker would know. Other than that one summer of groveling so that he wouldn’t lose his best friend, there was no one at Hawkins Hell that was worthy of his forgiveness. 

“Not even your friends?” 

“If I had an issue with one of my friends we’d talk about it.” Eddie looked at you, hoping that you’d get the hint. He just needed one reason, a single reason why you didn’t like him so that he could file you away with all the other people in this town. 

He tried to pinpoint the expression on your face. Surprise, or maybe embarrassment for being called out? Whatever it was, Eddie had struck a nerve and he knew it. 

Stacy, the busybody, interjected before you could say anything and promptly shoo’d him away when he declined to join them. 

The rest of the school day went by as usual. He did get caught trying to skip last period but as he was already serving Benson after school, he was let off with a warning this time. Eddie was beginning to suspect that the teachers here were growing bored of targeting him, especially with graduation looming over the horizon.

Eddie pushed aside his pride as he pulled your desk towards his as the two of you worked on the test. He tried to ignore your presence, pretending he was a wizard deep in study as the two of you poured over the books. He tried to imagine you as a toad, but your hair looked (and smelled) too nice for that. A cat would have to do. Eddie wasn’t particularly fond of cats, but they always seemed to like him better than anyone. 

With the test turned in, and with his dismissal, Eddie booked it out of the classroom with you not too far behind. He made sure to give you the slip, not wanting to be more of a thing than necessary. 

Outside, it was pouring rain and he was parked on the far side of the parking lot and he really wasn’t in the mood to get drenched or struck by lightning. So he figured he could dick around school while teachers and clubs continued their more voluntary after school activities save for the detention room where Eddie passed by and waved with a wiggle of his fingers to the teacher. 

He supposed it would have been too much to ask that the rest of his day could go by without incident. 

“Forget about the freaks, I need your help!”

What the fuck had that been about? Everything had happened so fast, he barely had time to register it until him and Dustin had been out of Danny’s sight. The cause of the fight didn’t matter, Danny had probably said something stupid and Dustin had said something too smart for his own good and Eddie had shown up seconds after Dustin had been slammed into a locker. 

It had been a while since someone had picked on his friends. Eddie had made a point to be such a spectacle that the worst that they could expect most of the time was a snide remark or a look. No one wanted to fight someone who they thought was genuinely out of his mind. 

The incident would have been unremarkable if you hadn’t shown up, drenched to the bone and screaming about homework. You looked almost as insane as he had felt. Was that your way of trying to help, or were you that shook up about your school work that you demanded help from someone who had probably never even opened a book before? 

“That’s the girl that keeps staring at you.” Dustin said, once they were out of the way. “Guess she saved our asses.”

“Right. Saved.” Eddie said, not fully convinced. He had met a lot of people in this small town, but none of them were as confusing as you. 

Once Dustin was safely in his mom’s car, Eddie ran through the rain to get into his van where he cranked up the stereo as loud as it could, hoping to drown out his thoughts. If that didn’t work then a sample of his stash at home would. 

---

Eddie would know Kenny’s copy of The Shady Dragon Inn anywhere. The edges were singed from the time the original dungeon master decided it would look cool to set the front cover on fire a little to give it the feel of having been burned by a dragon. There were tears and creases and notes all over the pages from past campaigns, and it filled Eddie with nostalgia for his first party with Kenny and Ronnie and the others. 

This module was less of an adventure and more of a guide for DMs to create NPCs with a few pre-generated ones, as well as a layout for the titular Inn. Eddie would never admit it, but creating NPCs could feel monotonous and was his least favorite part of creating his campaigns. He’d rather be designing villains and crafting dungeons and puzzles and monsters. Besides, there were a few in here that Kenny had used before that he thought would work for the next adventure. 

The last time he had seen this book it had been sitting on the dining room table at Kenny’s place over winter break when they had met up to shoot the shit. So how was it now sitting on his desk in the middle of school? Eddie doubted that his kid brother knew his schedule well enough to plant the book and he had thought Kenny would be showing up this week for Hellfire just to say hi. 

Forgot to give this to you yesterday. 

The sticky note that was slapped onto the front cover wasn’t signed, but Eddie had seen enough of your handwriting the other day to know it was yours. How the hell had you got your hands on this?

Every time Eddie thought he was going to leave you alone, you pulled him back in. 

This time, when he offered to carry your books, you didn’t stare at him so dumbfoundedly. You just nodded, and kept your head down at the floor as you two walked. 

“Where’d you get this?” Eddie asked, holding up the module. 

“I met your friend while talking to Zack.” you said, looking like you had personal beef with the linoleum. “He wanted to drop it off to you and I said I could hand it over. Then you ran off before I could.”

It was as good a reason as any. 

“You didn’t read any of it, did you?” Eddie asked, his voice overly suspicious for dramatic effect. “It’s full of dark magic and satanic spells. Really intense stuff.” 

“I opened it out of curiosity and my wrist started hurting again.” your voice was deadpan. “I told my mother and she took me to a priest who immediately performed an exorcism. I am no longer allowed to have pea soup.” 

Eddie laughed, genuinely laughed harder than he meant to. He threw his head back like a little kid, and the sound of his mirth echoed through the hallways and forgot that he didn’t know what your deal was with him. In a moment like this he could pretend that you two could have been friends. 

For a second, he wished you two were, unknowing in that moment you were wishing for the same thing. 

“I didn’t read it.” you lied after his laughter had died down. You juggled your books as you swapped them out at your locker and grabbed your lunch box. Eddie would never know that you had rushed your math homework this morning at school before handing off a copy to Danny, as you had stayed up far too late reading the module and taking notes. 

“Good, I’d hate to be the one to corrupt your pure soul.” Eddie said, which made you snort loudly in turn. 

“Good, because I’m saving that for someone special.” you said, looking at him for a moment before realizing you were mad at the dirty floor and looking away. You were quiet for a few seconds, and Eddie was about to say something before you spoke up again. “Sorry about yesterday. I panicked.” 

Once again, you were apologizing but he wasn’t sure what exactly for. Was it for calling him and Dustin freaks? Probably not, that was just true. 

“Guess you really needed that homework, huh?” Eddie asked. 

You just shrugged, with a nonchalance reminiscent of how he’d responded a few days ago when you were asking about where he lived. He knew a touchy subject when he saw it.

“He’s not hurt is he?” you asked. “Your friend, I mean. The freshman.” 

“Henderson? He’s fine. He’s a fighter.” Well, technically he was a bard which didn’t exactly have the best hit points. But the kid was scrappy, and had faced worse bully encounters. 

“That’s good.” you sighed. 

“He says you saved his ass.” Eddie said casually. “If you hadn’t shown up and freaked out things might have been ugly.” 

Your face scrunched up. “Well, glad I could help. Danny’s an idiot. It was a crap shoot if he even knew what the homework was.” 

Once again, Eddie delivered you to Stacy and declined her invitation to sit with them. For a moment, he considered taking up her offer just to see what you would do. He imagined the faces you’d make if he sat across from you and Stacy; if you had been that mad at the floor just from him walking next to you, then you’d probably end up burning a hole in your lunch by sitting with you. 

---

With the final bell of the day rung, Eddie found himself walking into Benson’s class with you as the last student staggered out. The two of you sat at the front desks, waiting for your marching orders. 

After a few minutes, Ms. Benson looked up at the two of you. “What are you two doing here?” she asked. 

Eddie looked at you, and then back to Ms. Benson. “We’re here to help with Spring Day?” It was more of a question than an answer. 

“Hm? Oh, no you’re not.” she said. “That’s what the Student Council is for.” 

This time you and Eddie looked at each other, and you spoke up. “But you said that if we helped you’d give us extra credit.” 

“No.” Ms. Benson said again. “That wouldn’t be allowed. I had you two come to do personal detention to make up work. That’s all. You two can go now.” 

“This was detention?” you asked. 

“Am I still banned from Spring Day?” Eddie added. “And what was all that work for anyway?” 

Ms. Benson sighed deeply and spoke slowly. “I would never have any of my students take over any part of planning a school event if they were not part of the student council. Even if I did I would never give them a task that I, myself, was given. You two are done. Go.”

Neither of you needed to be told twice. The two of you got up and left the room quickly, closing the door behind you. 

“....Did she just pawn her work onto us?” you asked, looking at him with so much confusion that your issues with him or the floor were ignored for the moment. 

“Yup.” Eddie said, shaking his head with a chuckle. 

You rubbed your face, looking out a deep sigh. “At least we did get some extra credit?” 

“Looks like I’m still banned from Spring Day.” 

“Is it really that fun anyway? None of the places we called seemed... fun.” you said. 

“It’s more fun than sitting in detention all day.” Eddie replied. “I was just gonna skip anyway.” 

“I guess we’re done then.” Did you sound disappointed? Must be his imagination. 

The two of you walked in silence to the parking lot. Eddie found himself unusually quiet, reflecting over the last few afternoons with you. He would be the first to deny it, but he was almost disappointed. When the two of you were alone, you were nice to be around. 

“Ah. Well, shit.” 

Eddie looked at you, and then followed your gaze to the parking lot where he saw Stacy riding off  with Chrissy Cunningham. 

“I take it that was your ride?” Eddie asked. 

“Not officially,” you sighed. “Thought I’d catch her before she left. I wouldn’t wanna be the third wheel anyway.” 

Third wheel? Chrissy’s sparkly signature on your cast didn’t give off ‘third wheel’ to him. 

Eddie considered leaving you here, you probably had a ride home with your parents later in the day. 

“Need a ride?” he asked, not knowing which answer he wanted from you. 

“I... really?” you looked up at him. “I’m in the opposite direction of Forest Hills.” 

It would be so easy to decline, rescind his offer. 

“I’m going that way anyway.” Eddie shrugged, lying through his teeth. “I need to swing by somewhere first anyway if you don’t mind.”

If he scrounged up some change, he could make a quick stop. 

“I’d honestly really appreciate it.” you said, sounding genuine. “I don’t mind if you need to stop somewhere. I’d rather be anywhere else right now.”

Taking to heart that you meant the school and not his presence, he led you to his van. He strode forwards faster, using the distance to shove some things into the back seat as quickly as possible so that there was room for you. His van was messier than usual, it usually was in the colder months and he’d been telling himself for weeks that he’d clean it soon. 

You didn’t say a word or make a face as you hopped into the passenger side seat. Eddie’s van made a startling noise before coming to life and you winced as his radio blasted music on max volume. 

Eddie quickly scrambled to turn it down to a level more reasonable for normal ears, and you relaxed a little. 

“What are we listening to?” you asked, glancing down at the small stack of tapes on his center console. 

“It’s a mix tape I’m working on for Dustin.” Eddie said. “Only the first side is done.” 

“The freshman from the other day?”

“Yeah, I’ve been giving him a good lesson in rock and metal.” 

“What about minerals or crystals?” 

It took a moment for your joke to register completely with Eddie, and he stared at you for a moment. “No.” he said bluntly. 

“I thought witches liked crystals!” 

“Witches aren’t a playable class. Wizard would be the closest, maybe a mage.” Eddie said. “There might be a specialist wizard that would use crystals as components. Some spells might need them.” 

“Your game is a lot of work, huh?” you asked. “There’s a lot to remember.” 

Once again, you were showing interest in his game. There had to be some common ground there and once again, Eddie was never the type to turn down earnest questions about the game that gave him a feeling of belonging. 

“Oh yeah.” he agreed, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it into the back seat. “It’s easier if you’re just a player, but when you’re running the game you have to remember everything else.”

“Are those real?” you asked suddenly. “Your tattoos, I mean.” 

Eddie looked down and held out his arm towards you. “They better be with what I had to pay for them.” he said. Tattooing was technically illegal in Indiana, and so he had to really search for someone who was willing and able to mark him up. He had to pay and barter his way through what he currently had. 

Your hand was hesitant and surprisingly gentle as you touched the ink Wyvern on his arm. There weren’t exactly a ton of people in Hawkins with any kind of tattoos, as they didn’t really reflect the wholesome image of an upstanding citizen. 

“Did they hurt?” You asked, looking closer at his arm, as if you were really taking in the details. 

“The one on my collarbone hurt like a bitch.” Eddie admitted, pulling his shirt down to show off the black widow. 

“I like the bats.” you said. “I think they look badass.”

“They were the easiest ones for me.” Eddie said, trying not to look too pleased with the compliments. 

“They look better than a bunch of random signatures.” you said, touching the cast on your arm. Eddie looked it over, and remembered the thick expo marker he had jacked from one of his classes. 

“How attached to Jason Carver’s name are you?” Eddie asked. 

“Not at all. I didn’t have a choice with that one. Chrissy wanted to sign it and he was there so...” 

“Perfect.” Eddie grabbed the marker and pulled off the cap with his teeth as he pulled your cast towards him. “Any requests? Should be easy enough to cover up.”

“I- anything. Dealer’s choice.” There was a challenge in your eyes that Eddie wasn’t about to turn down. 

Being careful not to cause any harm to your wrist, he made quick work of scribbling a couple of bats on your arm over Jasons’s name. It wasn’t his best work; the texture of the plaster of your cast wasn’t exactly the easiest to draw on, but he managed. The result was a colony of bats, with one turned into a dragon for good measure*. 

When he released your arm, you took a look down at it and smiled- one of those real smiles that you had given him a few days ago. You were attractive when your face was relaxed like that. 

“So, am I a badass spawn of Satan, now?” you asked with a look in your eyes that gave Eddie a weird but excited feeling in his chest. 

“Not exactly, but if you walk around with that you might end up a social pariah which is a good starting point.” He shrugged, finally starting to pull out of the parking lot. 

“I guess I’ll have to start somewhere.” 

The two of you were a few blocks away from the school when Eddie had an idea. If you were really interested in the game and being a Spawn of Satan and his game, he should take you to the next best thing to Hellfire Club.   

Eddie pulled into the parking lot of the shopping center, not noticing how quiet you had suddenly become. He didn’t always have the cash to get something from the game shop, but- “I need to pick up some dice anyway, I think one of the freshmen is eating mine. Let’s go.” 

“No.” 

Eddie looked over at you and you were looking guilty, like you’d rather be anywhere else. You had your head down again, now deciding that the old can of TAB near your foot was the real problem. 

“There’s not gonna be anyone in there. It’s usually just Chris working.” Eddie said. “He’s kind of an ass, but-”

“I can’t.” your voice sounded a bit choked. “You go ahead. I’ll guard the car.” 

“Are you-”

“Dude, just go. It’s fine.” You snapped. 

It was the most openly hostile you had been to his face, and Eddie felt a flare of anger in him and he got out of the van. He was pissed as he got the dice, and pissed as he drove you back home in silence. 

Fine, he tried. With you it was one step forward and a mile back. You could hang out in private but wouldn’t date to be seen with him anywhere else. 

You gave him directions to your home, and there were times where you looked like you wanted to say something but couldn’t. 

When he finally pulled up into your driveway, you hopped out fast but didn’t close the door yet. You didn’t look at him when you spoke. 

“Sorry. I just- I can’t go in there. It’s not you.” 

“Right.” Eddie said, not believing you. He was starting to get annoyed at your constant apologizing. You’d say something, then apologize, and then the cycle would repeat. 

“I mean it!” you looked up at him. “I- I just can’t go in there.”  

“Why not?” Eddie said. 

You looked guilty again, and your looked like you were going to panic at the question. 

“Don’t worry about it.” He finally said, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll see you around, I guess.” 

You closed the door without protest, and you watched as he drove away. He saw you through his mirrors as he drove down the street and you looked... bad. For a moment he felt like he was making a mistake, but when you kept insulting him and turning around to apologize... what was he supposed to do? He’d seen this pattern before. 

---

“Stacy.... What the fuck is wrong with me?” 

---

Author Notes: No dividers right now, as I am at work and there's a lady in my ear complaining about pizza for the stupidest reasons. I'll come back later and make it more pretty but I need the boost from posting something.

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[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so he's his own warning. Don't read if he's not someone you enjoy reading fics about. Talk/threat of violence but nothing too explicit. Enemies to Lovers. Soulmate! AU

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,989

A/N: Was working on this on and off since the last chapter and inbetween requests and the Valentines Event. Been feeling rough between a mix of things the last couple of days and decided to get this finished to cheer myself up. As always thank you everyone for your support with everything I post, not just this fic. I appreciate it so much and I hope you enjoy everything this chapter brings.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen(here) | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen(coming soon)

——————

“So all this time you could have been playing and you chose not to?” You paused in your soft playing to look over at Doflamingo as he sat at his desk, sorting through the last of the day’s paperwork he needed to attend to. “There’s a literal room dedicated to and filled with instruments. You could have been playing from the first day you woke up.”

“I could have, yes.” You agreed carefully, glancing at the instrument you’d lowered onto you lap when he spoke. “But I didn’t.” Vergo’s short visit was yesterday but since then you’d kept the violin close by when he revealed it was waiting in your quarters. It hadn’t surprised you that morning when you’d stepped out of your room to begin your lazy paced walk to Doflamingo’s office that you were hoisted over the Warlord’s shoulder. That was the norm now, what did surprise you though was that when you saw his free hand twitch and saw you violin case appear in his hand.

You made no comment about it, you didn’t need to. By bringing it with him, it was clear Doflamingo wanted to hear you play and after not getting to for so long you weren’t going to deny yourself from doing something you loved. So while he worked, you played whatever you felt like while making sure to keep the volume respectable enough. 

“Why didn’t you?” Doflamingo pressed, unsatisfied with your answer. He watched you adjust the violin against your shoulder once more to start playing again and he clicked his tongue, truly only a little disgruntled at your continued independence and complete lack of regard for fulfilling his curiosities or wishes. Your attitude didn’t fill him with the original insult and anger as it had done. He’d grown accustomed to it now that in the time you were sick and spent more of your time sleeping that he found himself missing your spirited and combative nature.

Now it was more of a game, and this was your move. Not giving up, Doflamingo waited until you started playing again before acting. As the music filled the room once more he sat back in his seat and curled his fingers. The feather-tipped pen on his desk sprang into the air and twirled silently, swaying to the music you were creating. Doflamingo’s grin grew as the feather drew closer to you, while you were blissfully unaware. 

Then with another twitch of his finger, the soft edge of the pale pink feather skimmed suddenly against your cheek. Instantly you jumped, your hand jerking and causing a sharp shriek of the bow against the strings to ring out, drowning out the sound of Doflamingo’s laughter. Sharply you snapped your head over your shoulder. You glared at the feather as it wiggled tauntingly in front of you but not touching. Your gaze flickered behind the pen to glower at Doflamingo. “Was that necessary?”

“It’s your own fault.” Doflamingo grinned with an unapologetic shrug, arching his fingers again to  make the feather close the distance with you again and this time it rapidly moved against your neck. With a small huff and reflexive laugh you swatted at the irritating little object. Knowing you wouldn’t be playing anymore, you set the violin aside and shuffled further down the sofa to try and get away from it only to see it lazily pursue you. “Answer my question.”

“Do the people of Dressrosa know they’re being ruled by a complete child?” You asked playfully, while managing to knock the pen of its course momentarily with your violin bow. “I did answer your question. It’s not my fault it wasn’t interesting enough for you, your Lordship.”

“King, not Lord.” Doflamingo corrected, rising from his seat and approaching slowly. When you shifted away from the still assaulting feather once more your back hit against the armrest of the sofa, stopping any further movement. With an effortless and silent jump, Doflamingo cleared the back of the sofa and perched himself on the cushions, plucking the feather out of the air and poising it over your face, tickling your nose. “C’mon your reluctance tells me there’s an actual answer you’re not saying.”

“Your persistence tells me that you’re so bored you’re just looking for any sort of distraction. Even a stupid question is enough.” You responded, lifting a finger to push the pen out of your face. You took in his face as he continued to stare you down, waiting. Finally you sighed. “I didn’t look to play in the beginning because I didn’t own them. They weren’t mine to play.”

“You still sick because you’re not making sense?”

“I like what’s mine, I’ve had this violin for years. I didn’t want to just play any random one I came across.” You said with a small shrug. “It might not entirely make sense but that’s the answer.”

“But they were there to be used. Whatever your reasons, you still should have just taken whichever one you wanted.” Doflamingo told you with his usual relaxed grin. “You see something you want, you take. That’s the only right way to live in this world.”

“Maybe for a King who doesn’t have to lift a finger-at least not in the traditional sense- to get anything he wants.” You explained, reaching up to flick your finger against the tuft of pale pink of the feather he had been using to pester you. “Sometimes it’s more rewarding to get something through earning it or it being given willingly.”

“Such a naive thought.” Doflamingo chuckled, It wasn’t the first time he’d heard this kind of thought or viewpoint and wasn’t surprised to hear it voiced from you. Especially given how your Marine file indicated nothing of a wealthy or noble upbringing. As rational as you were, you still most likely were raised in a  quaint little island somewhere, comfortable enough but still from a working family that foolishly believed in the power and good that a hard day’s work would bring. In a way it was endearing. “Such a shame you haven’t been brought around to my way of thinking yet.”

“Now who’s being naive?” You asked with a light smirk. “Maybe you should come around to my thinking for a change? Might do you some good to entertain another viewpoint for a change.”

———

“You’re serious?” You asked the doctor with a small, hopeful smile. You’d paused your breakfast with Doflamingo when the doctor knocked on the door. “No more infection? None at all?”

“Completely cleared.” The doctor reconfirmed with their own pleased smile. You let out a sigh of relief. You were only recently getting back into eating proper meals and while your energy levels weren’t what they had been before you’d gotten sick you had felt an improvement; albeit a small one. “It’s still our recommendation that you take things easy for another week or so. Nothing strenuous just yet…” You arched an eyebrow when the doctor’s gaze briefly flickered to your bed. Quickly the doctor cleared their throat and bowed low, mostly in an attempt to hide the blush on his face. “W-well if there’s nothing else needed of me. I’ll be going.“

“Sure.” You said with an amused smiled. “Oh and thank the other doctors for me. It can’t have been easy tending to me for so long.”

“Oh not at all!” The doctor dismissed you with a smile, not used to gratitude. “You were a model patient.”

“I know I was.” You grinned before jerking your head to the man sitting opposite you. “I was talking about him. Sorry he was such a murderous pain in the ass for you all.”

“Don’t apologise on my behalf.” Doflamingo piped up, finally joining the conversation. His grin stretched when you turned to look at him incredulously.

“Okay, apologise yourself.” You challenged, facing him fully. “Own up to your shameful behaviour. Let the self-improvement begin.”

“Not going to happen.” Doflamingo laughed, only to tilt his head when you suddenly kicked his leg, not that it was possible for you to hurt him. It was more of a surprise. 

“Well at least thank him for saving me.” You instructed firmly, reaching for your mug to take a sip. As you peered at Doflamingo from over the rim of the cup you added in an all too sweet tone. “Surely you’re brave enough to stomach offering that small amount of praise.” 

Doflamingo’s jaw twitched slightly at your challenge. He wouldn’t deny the fact that your full all-clear had pleased him and you were becoming more and more like your usual self prior to being sick. Still the fact you were demanding him to be nice to someone who was doing the very thing he ordered him and his colleagues to do. Where was his thanks? Under your unwavering stare and his now restless need to get the still hovering doctor out of your room so he could continue with his meal and day in relative peace. “Yes, yes fine. You all did a satisfactory job, pass on my acknowledgement to the others and get back to work.”

“You’re far, far too kind my King! Thank you.” The doctor praised before quickly making the final steps to the door and leaving hurriedly. When the door clicked closed you let out a short scoff. 

“So heartfelt Doffy, I think you made his whole year with your sincere gratitude.”

“He and his colleagues are all alive.” Doflamingo laughed. “That’s the clearest sign of my sincere gratitude to them and they’re thankful for that every day.”

“Such a calm and loving working environment you’ve created.” You said with a gentle sarcasm as you finished your drink and stood from your seat. “They’re truly blessed to have you ruling them. Speaking of rule, what’s your plan for today?”

“Nothing urgent. Diamanté wants to discuss the next big Coliseum tournament that I’ll have to make an appearance for the opening and closing ceremonies.” Doflamingo stood and walked with you towards your door. “Also have to oversee some weapons shipments at the docks. Why, wishing to join me?”

“Listen to Diamanté ramble on and on for god knows how long?” You asked turning to look at him with a scowl as your fingers curled around the handle but not opening the just yet. “Tempting but I’ll pass.”

“And the docks?” Doflamingo grinned, he’d already anticipated your response to being in the same room as his elite officer. The only one you disliked being around more was Trebol. 

“Maybe, I mean it’ll depend on how long Diamanté keeps y-” 

Abruptly the door opened from the other side and you turned. The edge of the thick door rammed against your cheek. You let out a shocked gasp at the impact but quickly met the panic-stricken face of the servant as they realised what had happened. Behind you you felt the temperature drop as the icy, murderous rage of Doflamingo. Roughly you shoved the servant out of the partly opened doorframe and back into the corridor, ordering them to go before you spun to slam the door closed. You used your body to block the handles and stared hard at Doflamingo as his bloodlust rolled off his shoulders in waves. It had all happened in a couple of seconds, it had been an accident, simply bad timing but all you could think about now was stopping the carnage. He was all but towering over you now, his hand moving to reach behind your back to grab the handle so he could hunt any and all servants in his path until he got to the right one. “Move.”

Defiant as always you pushed his arm away and adjusted your back against the sturdy double doors behind you. Had you not been his soulmate you wouldn’t have even been able to stand in his way or be able to easily move his hand. Then again, this whole thing wouldn’t have been happening if you weren’t his soulmate. He would have killed you long ago at the island he came across you at. Roughly Doflamingo grabbed your upper arm to pull you away and move to open the door but again you negated his strength by throwing your weight back to slam the door closed once more and grip his wrist of the hand on your arm. “Just take a breath and calm down.”

“I’m going to tear them to pieces.” Doflamingo growled down at you, his teeth bared and free hand ready to reach for the door. “Now. Move.”

“You’re overreacting!” You snapped, refusing to budge and you tightened your grip on his wrist when you saw the vein on his head throb harder. “I’m fine!” Even at your insistence he wasn’t listening, with his anger was at an all-time high. When he made another determined move to get you out of his way so he could slaughter mindlessly you grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down. Before he could make his move, you made yours and kissed him. You’d originally done so because it was the only thing left you could think to distract him, to give the servant at risk enough time to get out of the vicinity. 

The second your lips connected with his though, it pulled you back to the night you’d both kissed for the first time. The same all consuming feeling came over you both again, lips moving together in a progressively powerful and fiery kiss. Pulling your hand away from his wrist you threaded your fingers into the hair at the back of his head at the same time his hands gripped your hips. Instead of trying to move you away from the door, he stepped forward pressing you against it. Feeling his body against yours you could feel the agitated tension coiled in his muscles slowly begin to lessen as his aggression turned to hunger. You felt it too, same as last time the pull and craving for Doflamingo was instantaneous, for only a second you considered that if anything the feeling was stronger. But still there was that equal hesitance to give in any further into the temptation clawing closer and closer to the surface of both yours and Doflamingo’s restraint. You pulled back slowly from the dizzying kiss and took a breath. 

“Calmed down yet?” You asked, voice soft and slightly dazed. Your fingers in his hair dropped to the back of his neck, moving them slightly to relax the knot of tension still there. Doflamingo felt his eyes begin to close at the action. Just as he’d seen your fingers move masterfully when you played the violin they moved against his tight knot, coaxing it to unwind.

“Stop trying to control me. I’m the King of this place remember?” He forced out with a deep breath, forcing his eyes to open and look properly at your face. Silently he searched for where you’d been hit. With the sound of the impact there had to be a mark…somewhere. “Where hurts?”

“Nowhere. I told you I’m fine.” You explained softly and it was the truth. The only reason you’d gasped was because you were more startled than anything but the door hitting your face hadn’t hurt. There wasn’t even so much as a stinging or dull ache. You said nothing when Doflamingo’s hand lifted from your hip to curl under your jaw and angle your face. He leant in closer and inspected you closely. It was just as you’d said, no mark. No nothing. His eyes flickered to your lips and this close once more your calm breath fanned lightly over his face, pulling him towards you once more. Just before he could make a decision on whether to kiss you again or pull back he heard Diamanté’s voice calling for him through the corridors. “You should go before he disturbs the whole Palace.”

Doflamingo straightened and dropped his hands from you at the same time you did the same and finally stepped to the side to let him go. 

“You know there’s nothing to stop me finding that servant. Right?”

“I know.” You nodded gently, you weren’t an idiot. You knew it was a possibility every day that Doflamingo could kill anyone he wished-not including yourself-and no force in the world could still his hand completely. “At least now if you do, you’ll do it with a clear head and hopefully won’t kill others at random on the way.” From outside you heard Diamanté call again and you rolled your eyes, gesturing to the unblocked door. “Of you go. Kingly duties await.”

———

Doflamingo worked through the day, letting Diamanté talk for a little longer than he normally entertained. He even went with the elite officer to the Coliseum to watch a couple of the matches, needing something to distract him from the still persistent feeling of your lips against his. Even hours later it felt like you were still there, consuming his thoughts of the tempting softness and warmth. When not even a string of bloody brawls was enough to completely take his mind off of things he moved on to the docks, deciding to get the work done. 

Once again he spent a little longer than normal overseeing the weapons being packaged and loaded onto their vessels and sent off to their destinations. It brought him a small amount of enjoyment to see his underlings become paranoid messes, trying to work out why he was observing them so closely and trying to impress him with their diligent hard work. For some though, their attempts at impressing him only brought about clumsy fumbles from their nervousness. Just enough to amuse him, not enough to infuriate him or get them punished.

Finally when the sun began to hang low, casting Dressrosa’s sky into a soft amber he journeyed back to the Palace. As he walked through the corridors he heard the sound of footsteps approach. Looking ahead he watched as a servant turned the corner and into his line of sight. When the servant saw him, their eyes widened and they froze. This wasn’t the usual everyday apprehension that the servants held around him. This was terror. At first he wondered what would be the reason but then it came to him. This was the servant that had caused the incident this morning. Slowly his grin stretched into one of cruel calculation. 

The servant was a trembling wreck, sweat already breaking out along their hairline as they stood rooted completely in place without him even needing to force them to stay. With lazy strides, Doflamingo drew closer to their whimpering form as they awaited their punishment that he silently contemplated handing out as he closed the distance. Quickly he lashed his hand out and then settled it on their shoulder, a deep rumbling chuckle building in his chest as they flinched and blinked in shock when no attack came. Doflamingo leaned in towards the shaking servant. “Since there was no harm done, it seems only fair I let you off with a warning.” He explained smoothly, his words causing only more confusion and panic to shape their expression. “Be warned this is only a one time thing. You step out of line again-in any way I will take great enjoyment in slowly torturing you until you’ll end up thanking me when I eventually kill you. Understand?”

Rapidly the servant nodded, able to have that much self-preservation to pull together enough strength and focus to respond to their King. Doflamingo grinned and squeezed the servant’s shoulder, just enough to make him let out a pained yelp but not enough to cause permanent damage. Lifted his hand and allowed the servant the freedom to finally scurry off but when he was only a couple steps away he tensed his fingers, halting them from going any further. Slowly Doflamingo approached the man again. “You’re probably smart enough to have come to this realisation already but just incase it needs saying…” he began, speaking low and dangerous. Commanding the servant’s complete but frightened attention. “You are never to go near them again. Accident or not your actions need some sort of consequences. Wherever they go, see to it you are always in the opposite direction. Otherwise we’ll count that as the ‘stepping out of line’ thing we talked about.” 

Suddenly Doflamingo rose and continued on his way, deciding to forgo the family dinner in the dining room. Instead he stopped another servant and told them he’d be eating in his own quarters. Stepping inside he shut the door and settled down in his sofa, kicking his legs up onto the cushions and stretching out. With a small groan he tilted his head back and rubbed his temples while letting his eyes close. At the sound of the door opening without being knocked first he let out a scoff. There was only one person brave enough. You. Keeping his eyes shut he listened to you enter and close the door. “Not like you to come to my room.”

“You always barge into my room.” You spoke simply coming to a stop at the back of the sofa. Lazily you folded your arms and looked down at him. “Thought I’d return the favour.”

“That all?”

“Well I was curious about the lack of screams of pain.” You admitted with a small smile that he returned even though he couldn’t see your expression. “Came to investigate. So what did you do with him?”

“Nothing. He’s still alive.” Doflamingo informed you before letting out a small, dark laugh. “Until he messes up again anyway.”

“Wasn’t expecting that. So what made you practice restraint this time?” As you asked you stepped around the sofa and perched on the edge of the cushions, taking the small amount of space available near Doflamingo’s side. Wordlessly Doflamingo shifted slightly, unconsciously making a more comfortable space for you to sit. In doing so his hand settled on your leg but you made no comment about it, instead you were more interested in the answer for Doflamingo’s rare moment of leniency for the servant.

“Didn’t feel like it, too tired.” 

“Liar.” You accused with a smirk. Leaning down you pressed a soft kiss against his lips. This one wasn’t as intense or passionate as the one you’d shared that morning but it still served its purpose in conveying the gratitude you had for Doflamingo’s unspoken reason that he had spared the servant’s life because of you. Pulling back you felt Doflamingo’s stare finally settle on your face when his eyes opened.

“What was that for?”

“Consider it a reward entertaining my viewpoint instead of just doing it your way.” You explained with a playful smile tugging at your lips. From the door to Doflamingo’s quarters a small knock sounded and the servant from the other side called, inquiring if he was ready for his dinner. “I’ll leave you be to eat in peace.”

When you moved to stand you were stopped by Doflamingo’s hand twitching on your leg. Wordlessly you gave Doflamingo a questioning stare. “You came all this way to barge into my room. You may as well make the most of it and stay for dinner.”

Normally your only shared meals together were the breakfasts in your room. But after everything that happened today shifting things yet again, you were losing track of what ‘normal’ meant between you both anymore. There wasn’t much point in refusing his offer tonight after two kisses-both of them being something you initiated- so you nodded and gave him a mostly playful look. “Just dinner, though.”   

“Of course but just remind yourself of that.” Doflamingo chuckled, shifting to sit up. Before he got off the sofa and answered the door for the patiently waiting servant he couldn’t help but whisper in your ear. “Those kisses were all your doing. Not that I minded though.”

——————————————-

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[firingstars]

in this life | ch. 4

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: "There's only one God, doll, and He's gonna bring me back to you." "I don't need God," you told him, fresh tears brimming over your eyes. "I just need you."

warnings: 18+, mdni, nondescript smut in this chapter, mental health talk, bucky is kinda flirting with you he's being 40's bucky in present time rn, reincarnation trope, language, mentions of financial instability, memories are written with italicizes, no use of y/n, angst, yearning, longing, everyone's alive no one is dead because i said so, alternating pov's

word count: 5.1k

a/n: i told myself that i wouldn't play elden ring until i released this chapter so now i will be playing elden ring until further notice. i also am going to see materialists tomorrow so if chris evans awakens something inside me be prepared for a steve rogers oneshot fic over the weekend

previous chapter | next chapter

Bucky knew better than to look for you. Well, he knew where to look for you. He knew everywhere that you would be, actually. He knew your school schedule, your work schedule, he knew what stores you frequented, and the roads that you took when you commuted from home to school, school to work, and work to home.

Sam called him a stalker. 

Bucky defended himself and said it was part of the intelligence background check that he had done on you. 

Though, he knew deep down, it was wrong of him to have even done that. It was originally just to see who was running the blog. But after seeing you, finding out who you were, Bucky couldn’t help himself. He wanted to know every detail about your life to see if there were any differences.

He was certain that you were the same person, though he still couldn’t wrap his head around how. 

“I think I’m going insane,” he told Steve. 

“Wouldn’t blame you. I would go crazy if Peggy was suddenly in front of me, too.”

“What would you do then?” Bucky demanded. “I don’t think we have the right to even be part of her life, Steve.”

“I think we should have thought about that before we both made Tony give her that scholarship, and before you gave her that insane amount of money,” Steve pointed out.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, burying his face in his hands. 

“Is it really that wrong to try again?” Steve murmured. “The universe is giving you a second chance… I know that if I was given one, I would take it.”

“But what if it’s not her, Steve? What if it’s just someone that looks like her, and I’m just projecting it on this random girl? Then what?” 

“You don’t have to fall in love with her,” Steve said, shaking his head. “You could start off as friends. Maybe from there, you can figure out whether or not it really is her or not… And then you can decide where to go from there.”

“We can’t be friends anymore,” you told him, refusing to meet his eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, and you could hear the confusion in his voice. “Did I do something? Say something? Did I hurt you?”

“No. Nothing like that,” you murmured in response, your heart clenching at his words. 

“Then what?” he pleaded softly, reaching for you. His hands were on your shoulders, and he whispered your name, “Look at me, please.”

You refused. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were about to start crying, and you didn’t need him to see it. 

You were at your breaking point after so long. Nineteen years of being by his side, three years of harboring secret affection for him. Now, he was trying to take your coworker out for a date?

Yeah. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t sit and watch this anymore. You bit your tongue long enough, and you were tired. 

You shrugged his hands off your shoulders. “It’s nothing. Just— I can’t be your friend anymore.”

“Why?” he demanded, though there was no real bite to his words. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, letting out a deep sigh. 

You swallowed thickly, shook your head. “I gotta go.”

He didn’t let you leave. The second you turned, he had a hand on your arm, only hard enough to stop you. It didn’t hurt. No, he never hurt you. 

“You can’t just leave!” he exclaimed. “We’ve been friends since— since we were children! You can’t just tell me you’re leaving me without any kind of explanation.”

“Just drop it,” you mutter, pulling your arm back from him. He lets you go, you take a few steps, but not before he completely stops you by rushing around you to block your path.

“No! Argue with me, get mad! I don’t understand,” he begged. Your chest clenched at the sound of his voice. The hurt. The confusion. “You’re my one of my closest friends— hell, you and S̵͓͋ͅt̸͙̟͑͗ë̷̟̤́̚v̸͖̮̽ị̴͛͝e̵̙̐ are the closet friends I have!“

“That’s the issue!” you finally snap, looking at him. “I’m just a friend to you! That’s all I am, and that’s all I’ll ever be! I’m so fucking sick of it, J̵̳͎͒a̸̹̓m̸̛͇̲͌e̶͖͕̊̚s̴̱̬̓!” 

His body stills, taken aback. He whispers your name like a prayer. “What are you saying—“

“I’m so tired, don’t you understand?! You drag me and Ş̶̦͑t̷̘̆e̷̹̒̔v̵͕̻̐̕e̷̦̮̅́ to double date with you and your new catch of the week, and so have to sit there and watch you flirt with someone that isn’t me— that’ll never be me!” you cut him off, running your hands through your hair. You’re crying now, tears fully falling down your face. “Except Ş̶̦͑t̷̘̆e̷̹̒̔v̵͕̻̐̕e̷̦̮̅́ notices, and he feels fucking bad for me! You’re the only one dense enough to not see that I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen, you fucking idiot!”

He doesn’t say a word. He can’t. You don’t even think he’s breathing. You let out a harsh, bitter laugh.

“We can’t be friends anymore. I think I might rip my own heart out if I listen to you talk about someone else,” you whispered, side stepping him. 

This time, he doesn’t follow you when you leave. 

However, he’s back two days later, knocking on your door incessantly. You know it’s him. The only other person it could be is your little blonde friend who had already comforted you yesterday. 

You sigh, knowing he won’t leave until you open the door. 

When you do, a bouquet of flowers is shoved into your face. You flinch, taking them in your hands to move the petals out of your nostrils. 

“What is this?” you frown. 

“Flowers. Have you never seen flowers before?” he asks, sarcastic. 

“Obviously I’ve seen fucking flowers before,” you reply dryly. “Why are you giving them to me—“

“Because I love you,” he cuts you off. “Since we were six. So I have you beat by ten years.”

You’re frozen in place, staring at the bouquet of flowers in your hand. It’s filled with an assortment of your favorites, wrapped in newspaper and a white bow. 

“We met when we were six,” you finally whisper. 

“And I’ve loved you ever since that day,” he confesses. 

“You— you take other girls out. You take my friends out,” you stammer, your mind reeling. 

“Well, to be fair, you set me up with your girls,” he says, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

You couldn’t deny that.

“What about the other girls?” you demand. 

He lets out a sigh, “I… didn’t think you were interested in me. Thought you just saw me as a brother, like Ş̶̦͑t̷̘̆e̷̹̒̔v̵͕̻̐̕e̷̦̮̅́.” 

“I.. don't believe you,” you whisper, clutching the stems of the flowers tighter. The newspaper crinkles under your hands. “You’re just saying this because you don’t want to lose me.”

“Doll,” he whispers, and a tingle runs down your spine. 

He’d never called you that before— he’d never called anyone that before, actually. You look up at him, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” he confirms, reaching to hold your face in his hand. Your breath hitches at the contact. “However, I have watched you my entire life. I know everything about you. All your likes and dislikes. Everything you dream of and wish for. What you want in the future— I’ll give it all to you, if you’ll just let me.”

“What.. what if this ruins us?” you say, your voice trembling. “What if we break up—“

“I’m never letting you go, now that I have you,” he dismisses. “I promise, pretty girl. I will take care of you. I’ll take care of your heart and hold it so gently in my hands and keep it safe.”

“You… don’t exactly have a great track record with holding girlfriends,” you say, joking slightly. 

He chuckles, thumb brushing against your cheek. “None of them was you. Didn’t care enough to hold onto them.”

You let out a trembling breath, staring down at the flowers for a few moments. Your mind is racing, your heart is about to burst from your chest. 

“Want me to court you, doll?” he asks, breaking the silence. “I’ll court you. Let me work for it, let me show you how serious I am for you.”

“No,” you quickly say, looking back up at him. “I— That’s too much time wasted. I just wanna be yours already.”

“I’ve been yours from the start,” he whispers, and you hear it. The genuinity in his voice that makes your stomach flip. “Be my girl, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you nod, letting out a breath. 

He surges forward, holding your face in both hands now as he presses his lips against yours— like he’s been waiting his entire life to do this. You suppose he has, whereas you’ve only been waiting a few. 

You relax against him, pulling him into your home before shutting the front door behind him. He continues kissing you, pressing kisses all over your face as he whispers his gratitude. 

You giggle against him, holding him close to you as his lips finally find yours again. You sigh into his kiss, and he shifts the angle of your head to kiss deeper. 

His tongue slips into your mouth, licking into yours. You let out a surprised squeak against his lips, and feel him smile against you.

“Don’t like?” he whispers, lips ghosting against yours. 

“Just— new,” you stutter, heart racing. “Never done that.”

“Hmm.. I know,” he chuckles. Well, you knew he did. Your little trio of friends talked about relationships. He was the most well versed out of all three of you.

“Okay, Mr. Experienced,” you scoff, hitting his arm with the flowers. 

“Not totally experienced,” he corrects. “I’ve never gone all the way.”

You’re surprised. “You haven’t? I thought you did with Dot— prom night?” 

“No. Got close, but stopped,” he confesses, taking the flowers from your hands and dropping them onto the table by the front door. “Didn’t feel right. Wanted to wait for the right person.”

“Who’s the right person?” you ask.

“I’m holding her right now,” he whispers, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to him before pulling you back into a sweet kiss. 

You know he can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he holds you against him. You find that you don’t care, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. His hand moves to your chin, gently tugging— you know what he’s asking for. 

You open your mouth, prepared this time for his tongue. The feeling is strange, different, but you don’t hate it. He’s moving slowly against you, allowing you to adjust to him, to learn his movements

He’s being so patient with you it almost makes you want to cry. 

You learn quickly, sliding your own tongue over his, licking into his mouth the same way that he did with you. He lets out a soft moan into your mouth, squeezing your hip tighter in his hand. 

“So good, doll,” he whispers, pulling back briefly just to compliment you before meeting you once more. 

You find your back against the wall, his body a rock against yours. You find comfort in his touch, letting out soft noises you didn’t know you could make as he started kissing away from your mouth, down your jaw and to your neck. 

“Your Ma’ workin’ late tonight?” he whispers against your skin.

“Won’t be back till the morning,” you swallow. “Graveyard shift.”

“Doll… I want you,” he murmurs, “If you’ll let me.”

You know what he’s asking for, know what he means. You nod all the same, pushing him off of you gently just to take his hand to lead him to your room. Your heart is pounding in your chest, keenly aware of him and the amount of space he takes in your small room. 

He’s been in here thousands of times before. This is different. It’s different as he presses his chest against your back, hands roaming slowly around your body, giving you the opportunity to push him away or change your mind. 

You never do.

His breath hitches as you lean into his touch, murmuring your name softly. 

“I’m a little nervous,” you confess to him as you turn in his arms to face him. 

“So am I,” he replies with a laugh. “I’m glad this is with you, though.”

You grin at him, pressing on your toes to kiss him again. 

Clothes are slowly removed with shaking hands, both of you taking the time to pause, to look at each other in the dim light of your room. You’re entranced by him— you’ve seen him before, at the lake. Having him above you like this is different. 

He seems to feel the same, cursing under his breath as he takes in the sight of you completely bare beneath him. 

“I don’t know how many times I dreamt about this,” he whispers, fingers ghosting over the swell of your breasts. “Dreamt of you. Am I dreaming again, doll?”

“I’m in a dream with you, if you are,” you whisper back. 

You both are clumsy, breathless, sharing quiet giggles with each other as you try to figure out what feels good and what doesn’t. All the while, you share kisses between whispers of affection, and he never stops telling you how perfect you are. 

Finally, when you both deem that it’s time— he slides home. 

You’re taken back by the stretch, and he’s dying in his head, but comes back to life to kiss away your tears and comfort you as you get used to the feel of him. 

When pleasure finally overcomes pain, he moves. The first thrust is heaven. You moan in unison, holding on to each other like you’ll fall apart if you don’t. 

Neither of you last too long. It's an overwhelming mix of passion, pleasure, and love. He collapses on you, murmuring something about lasting longer next time, and you laugh. 

You’re lulled to sleep by him tracing incomplete shapes into your hip, tucked into his chest like something precious. You’re beginning to learn that you are—to him at least. 

You could constantly feel eyes on you, though you never knew where those eyes were. Whether it was at the diner, on campus, or walking home, you couldn’t shake the feeling. What was even more strange was that you didn’t feel like you were in danger, strangely.

You thought you were going insane, but that wouldn’t be an accurate description of anything. You should probably already be in an institution, but you simply remained undiagnosed. 

It was unnerving, to say the least. 

You still continued to keep an eye out for the two super soldiers. You hoped to see at least one of them. You kept telling yourself it was so that you could return the ten grand to them, even though you never actually carried the money with you. Maybe the next time that you saw them you would give one of them your phone number or demand one of theirs. Take their number and tell them that you would return the money or wire the money back to them via Zelle. If they had Zelle. You didn’t know how technology advanced the two World War II veterans were. 

“What paper are you angry typing up?” Peter asked from across the table. “Is it for your ethics class again?” 

“No, my ethics professor finally gave in to my study. It’s an email,” you said. “To your boss. Demanding to understand the details of my scholarship.”

“Isn’t this the fourth email you sent him?” Ned asked.

“Fifth,” MJ corrected from beside you. “And he still hasn’t responded? At all? Peter, why don’t you talk to him?”

“Nuh-uh,” Peter shook his head vehemently. “I am not gonna talk about scholarships with Mr. Stark. What if he takes away mine?”

“It’s alright,” you tell MJ with a sigh. “It’s not his responsibility.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about the scholarship though,” Ned said, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a full ride and more. You’ve been able to get all of us free lunch at the cafeterias for the past two weeks.”

“Yes, but what if he takes it away because he realizes I am not qualified and then I get backlogged with payments that I can’t afford?” you shoot back. “And Peter has also been getting us lunch at the cafeteria, not just me.”

“I didn’t realize my scholarship also came with lunch,” Peter said, sheepish.  

“Also it’s not Peter’s responsibility for Tony Stark to respond to his damn emails,” you grunted. Peter let out a sigh of relief.

“Well, good luck with all of that,” MJ said with a snort as she packed up her things. “Gotta head to my next class. I’ll see you at the diner tonight.”

“Yup,” you mutter as she picks up her things. She rounds the table real quick to press a kiss to Peter’s lips before leaving the library. 

You press send on the email, and bury your face in your hands. You can feel a headache coming on. You were one more email away from finding out where the hell Peter went for his internship and banging down Tony Stark’s door yourself to demand answers.

You held back the desire to do so and went on with the rest of your day. You had one more class, one more pop quiz. Then you were on your way to clock in for work. Tomorrow, you had the day off. It was the weekend, too. It was a rare occurrence where you didn’t have both school and work. You would be able to sleep in if your mind allowed you to. Maybe you could finish that drawing you were working on.

The Friday dinner rush came and went. It got so busy that the bell ended up breaking at the door. You two would have to look up to see if a patron walked in. Thankfully, you were at the tail end of the night, and usually you guys never saw anyone at this time. You only had about an hour left before you would start your closing duties and then head home for the night. 

You and MJ decided to beg the cooks in the back for a snack, and they gave you an order of large fries to share. After wiping down the bar counter, you and MJ sat at the diner bar to chat. Your feet were killing you after running around all night. 

“Fuck, marry, kill. Captain America, Thor, Iron Man,” MJ suddenly said.

“You know your boyfriend is part of that team, right?” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah, that’s why you’re playing, not me,” MJ grinned. 

“Kill Iron Man,” you said instantly.

“Because he’s not answering your emails?”

 “Exactly,” you grunt. “Bad communication. Terrible for marriage. Don’t even wanna think about going to bed with that. Pisses me off.”

“Understandable,” she nods. “Two left.”

You groan, sighing deeply. “I don’t think marrying Thor would be good for the long run. Marrying a God seems like a bad idea. Maybe fucking him once is good?”

“So you’ll marry Captain America?” she asked, surprised. “He’s like, a hundred. Are you sure about that?”

“He was born during a time when men were chivalrous and gentlemanly,” you argue. “Also, he’s a hundred, but does he look like it? Steve Rogers looks like sex, MJ.”

A ring of the call bell at the hostess stand makes both of you freeze. You both turn to the front, finding a customer waiting to be seated, but it’s not just any customer. Bucky is standing there, staring at you with his hands in his pockets. 

You want to fucking die. 

“That’s your circus,” MJ quickly said, grabbing the basket of fries before running into the kitchen.

“You–!” you hissed at her as your cheeks turned red. You swallow down your embarrassment as you go up to the stand, grabbing a menu from the podium as you clear your throat. “Just for one tonight?”

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. 

“Bar or table?” 

“Bar is good.”

After leading him to the bar, you bring him a glass of water as he looks over the menu. Your cheeks are still burning with heat, and your heart is still thumping. You don’t know how long he has been standing there. You don’t know if he’s heard the entire conversation to know the context, or if he was only able to hear the end of what you said about his friend.

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?” you forced out.

“Do you have beer here?” he asked. “Kinda need it. I just heard somebody say my best friend looks like sex.”

“We have beer,” you whispered, swallowing thickly as you turned towards the kitchen to grab a bottle.

MJ is lucky that you don’t find her during your quick walk through otherwise you would’ve smashed the bottle over her head. Not literally. You wanted to though. You should. You won’t. Maybe later.

“One beer,” you said, placing it in front of him. “And I’m so sorry.”

Bucky lets out a small laugh, and you finally look at his face. He’s smiling. “No worries.”

“Were you listening– Did you hear the whole conversation?” you asked, nervous.

“Nope. Just the last part.”

“Do you know what the game fuck, marry, kill is?”

Bucky stares at you like you’re speaking a different language for a few moments as he rests his hands on the bar counter. You just might be making zero sense, honestly. You normally wouldn’t even be bringing this up with a patron. You would just let it go and pretend that this wasn’t a thing, but you were desperate to clear up this misunderstanding. 

“Basically you choose three people, and you have those three options. My friend gave me three Avengers to choose from.”

“You chose Steve to fuck?” Bucky asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“No, I chose Thor to fuck. I chose Steve to marry,” you quickly corrected him. “And I killed off Tony Stark.”

“Oh. Steve would be the best option to marry out of those three,” Bucky nodded, taking a long drink of his beer. You let out a breath, relief filling your body. “Still doesn’t explain your comment.”

“I– she was saying that he’s old. And asked me why I would be okay with marrying someone old. I said that he doesn’t look old– that he looks…”

“Like sex?” he completed for you, a small smirk on his face.

“Are you going to order?” you asked, regretting everything leading up to this moment. 

Bucky chuckled, looking back down at the menu for a second before nodding. “Yeah. Is the hamburger steak good?”

“It’s good,” you said with a breath. “I’ll put that order in for you.”

You quickly turn and disappear into the kitchen to put the ticket in. You wish that the diner was busy so that you would have more time to hide, have some time to cool off and potentially forget about the conversation, but unfortunately luck is not on your side. The cooks have the order finished and ready within moments. MJ is still avoiding eye contact with you, even though you can see an amused look on her face. 

You bring the plate back out to him, muttering a soft enjoy before trying to spin on your heel again.

“I’ll leave you another large tip if you run,” he said.

“Are you really threatening me with money?” you asked, shocked. You turn around to find him already cutting into the gravy smothered meat, and he shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“For what reason?” Despite your words, you return to the counter, right across from him with your eyebrows raised. 

“Seeking company while I eat,” he responds, glancing up at you before bringing a cut of the hamburger to his mouth. Then, he looks surprised. “It is good.”

“Of course it’s good. Did you think I was lying?”

“Thought you were just tryna get me to stop talking about my friend looking like sex to you, doll,” he said, chuckling.

“Are you ever going to drop that?” you frown at him.

“It happened like two seconds ago. Let me enjoy the moment.”

“Just don’t tell Steve. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again in person, but I don’t think I’ll be able to look him in the eyes if he knows I said that,” you begged, inwardly cringing.

“On one condition. Take Iron Man out. Put me in. How does the scenario change now?” 

Your mind was short circuiting in real time. You were staring at him, and he was waiting patiently, a smile on his face as he stared at you. His fingers rested on his lips, eyes never leaving yours, waiting for a response.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to be having with a customer,” you finally whispered.

“I could always tell Steve,” he shot right back.

“Kill Thor,” you started immediately, watching the smile on his face grow. “Though I really don’t know how it’s possible to kill a God.”

“For the sake of the game,” Bucky brushed off. “Steve and I next. Who are you bringing to bed, and who’s waiting for you at the altar?” 

“Do I really have to answer this?” you plead.

“No,” he said with a shrug. “But I could just call Steve.”

“Marry you,” you finally said, looking everywhere but him.

“Because Steve looks like sex?” 

“No!” you exclaim, cheeks burning hotter than you ever thought was possible. “You just— I’ve met you, what, three times? You stole pickles off my sandwich without me saying anything, and gave me a fat tip for mediocre service. I feel that I would be taken care of for the rest of my life. Fuck is just.. the only option left… So yeah. Steve is, by default, who I’m gonna fuck.”

Bucky looks utterly satisfied for whatever reason that you cannot understand. He picks up his fork and knife and continues to cut into his meat, bringing the food back to his mouth to eat quietly. You still feel like disintegrating on the spot.

“You can’t tell him I said any of that,” you finally said, watching him bring a broccoli piece to his lips.

“Our little secret, doll,” he hummed. “Didn’t think I was marriage material though.”

“For the sake of the game,” you said, shooting the words back at his face. You watch as he smiles a bit more, nodding to himself more than you. 

“Not too old for you either?” he asked, and you could hear something teasing in his voice. “Or do I also look like sex?”

“I’ll ban you from ever entering this diner again,” you threatened, though your words hold zero weight.

“Then I’ll just leave another ten grand for your tip before you throw me to the streets.” 

“Do you always just carry alarming amounts of money with you?”

“Only when I know I’m going to see a pretty waitress at a diner,” he replied. 

“Sergeant, if I knew any better, I would say you were attempting to be flirting with the pretty waitress at the diner,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky paused mid-bite, then shrugged just slightly. He didn’t look bothered or flustered at all.

“Is that an issue with you?” he asked. “Is there a boyfriend that I need to fight?”

“You tell me,” you said dryly. “What does your background check on me say?”

The smile returned to his face as he looked back at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes that you hadn’t seen earlier, that made your breath catch in your throat, and your chest tighten.

“There’s none,” he answered.

“Eat your food, Sergeant,” you huffed. “I’ll be back to check on you. Need to start my closing duties. Don’t rush though– I haven’t practiced the heimlich maneuver in years. I don’t know what I’ll do if you start choking.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he laughed, looking back down at his food. 

You were relieved to finally move out of his line of sight. 

Bucky seemed different today. Where the last two times you saw him, he was tense and uptight, he seemed a bit more relaxed today. You weren’t sure if it was due to the beer he was drinking or if it was the playful banter that was passed between the two of you, but either way it was nice. Natural. As if you had been through this thousands of times before and speaking to him was as easy as breathing air. 

There wasn’t much for you to do in terms of closing. MJ had flitted about while you embarrassed yourself in front of the superhero, and you printed out his receipt. You knew better this time than to try and give him a complimentary meal again otherwise you would be stuck with another stack of bills behind your dresser that you would be too scared to touch.

You stared at the receipt for a few moments, then picked up a pen. Your heart was racing as you quickly scribbled on the end of the customer copy, and made sure to keep it carefully hidden under the restaurant’s copy. 

“I hope you enjoyed your meal tonight,” you told him as you dropped off the checkbook.

“It was great,” he said, offering you another smile as he took out his wallet. He opened it up, checked the price, and took out the according number of bills before. Then, another hundred came out, and he slid it to you. “For you.”

“Bucky–”

“For putting up with my shit tonight,” he cut you off.

You couldn’t argue with that. You grumbled under your breath as you took the cash, shoving it into your pocket as you took the restaurant receipt and his money. You watched as Bucky’s eyes fell on his copy of the receipt, and stared for a few moments. 

“What’s this?” he asked, picking up the receipt.

“I’m sure you already have my number from whatever intelligence you ran on me,” you said, clearing your throat as you refused to meet his eyes. “Consider this permission to use it.”

“Are you flirting with me now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Your heart was pounding as you watched as he put the receipt into the pocket of his leather jacket carefully. 

“Not flirting. Networking, if you will. Expanding my options for after I graduate. The Avengers need therapists right? You guys have a lot of unsolved trauma, even if you guys won’t say that in the interviews that you have.”

Bucky barked out a laugh at your response, shaking his head. “I’ll ask around. See who needs a student therapist to poke around in their heads for your thesis.”

“You really know too much about me.”

“I’m sure that you know just as much about me,” he promised.

You believed him, for some odd reason.

next chapter

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[writesvani]

say you remember | 02

idol!minyoongi x writer!reader

SUMMARY: You don’t expect much when your eyes meet his across the café-bar—just a fleeting glance, a moment that should mean nothing. But then there’s another look. And another. Before you know it, you’re tangled up in something that isn’t love, isn’t commitment—just an escape wrapped in late-night encounters and whispered goodbyes.

It’s fine. Until it isn’t.

When feelings start creeping in, you both decide to walk away before things get too complicated. It should have ended there. But fate has other plans. When your friend starts dating Jungkook—his best friend, his bandmate—you find yourself face to face with Yoongi once again.

The past lingers between you, heavy and unresolved. The question is—was it ever really over?

strangers-to-fwb-to-strangers-to-lovers

TRIGGER WARNINGS: jealousy, unresolved past relationships, awkward social interactions, emotional tension, flirtation, suppressed feelings, anxiety, unspoken love, betrayal, unrequited feelings, uncomfortable confrontation, smoking, drinking

comment here for to Say You Remember taglist;

SERIES M. LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter (pending...)

wc: 7k // date: 15th of April 2025

CHAPTER TWO — Drowning in the Silence Between Us; happy reading my gummies...

AN: hii guys. im so excited for this chapter, i LOVE it. it's so funny. like, i'm over here cackling like a mad person. it's honestly kinda self projecting but oh well, i'm embracing it. who needs boundaries when you're writing, right?

also, just to clear things up, y/n's book dear me is in no way connected with my jungkook fic dear me (imagine the drama if it was). it's just that i couldn’t think of a name for her book, so i just borrowed the name from one of my own fics. i promise i'm not secretly inserting my own universe into this. but yeah, dear me in this fic is y/n's book and it's all original with her own characters. okay, enjoy the chaos.

also, goal for this chapter is 250 notes. i am not lowering it this time. i fed you well with this one, 7k words after all, so if you want a new meal, y'all will have to work for it. get those notes in!

"Remind me again why we still don't know his name?" Chul asks, flatly, as he sets down three steaming mugs with the precision of a tired barista.

"Because it's still new," Aecha says, wrapping her hands around her cup. "And I want it to stay good before I jinx it by saying too much. You know how it goes—tell people, suddenly the whole thing collapses like a cheap tent."

You narrow your eyes, flicking ash off your cigarette with a pointed look. "People? Are we people to you now? Damn. And here I thought we made it past that stage."

Aecha just shrugs, a mischievous smile playing at the corner of her lips.

"It’s not just that, though," you go on, leaning forward. "It’s like you're actively enjoying this whole mystery-man act. Like you want us to suffer trying to figure out who he is."

"Maybe I do," she says, taking another sip. "You two make great detectives when you're desperate."

Chul groans, flopping onto the couch. "Great. So now we’re just a part of your little game."

"You’ve always been a part of my little game," she says with a wink.

"You see how little she thinks of us?" you say, shooting Chul a look of betrayal.

Chul nods with theatrical disappointment, letting out a long, dramatic sigh as he leans back in his chair. "Our own goddamn roommate. Best friend, even. And we’re apparently not worthy of a name."

"Ugh, it’s not like that," Aecha groans, setting her mug down with a soft clink. "It’s just… complicated, okay? You’ll understand when you meet him."

You raise an eyebrow. "Yeah? If we ever get to meet him. At this rate, you’ll be married with two kids before we even know his star sign."

"It would be nice to know who we’re meeting at least," Chul adds, more gently now. "Y’know, in case he’s a serial killer or a tax evader or something."

Aecha snorts. "He’s not a serial killer. Or a tax evader."

"That’s exactly what someone dating a serial killer would say," you deadpan, taking a slow drag of your cigarette.

"Oh, oh—wait. I have a theory," you say, tapping your fingers against the edge of the small wooden table. It’s sticky. "Ugh. Chul, seriously? Did you skip cleaning duty again?"

"Creative minds don't clean," Chul mumbles, unbothered.

You roll your eyes. "Anyway. Theory time. What if he's, like, a dealer? Or—wait—a vampire baby? Be honest, Aecha. Is your man an immortal bloodsucker with a side hustle in illegal substances? Because if so, I support you, I just need to emotionally prepare."

Aecha snorts into her coffee. "He is not a dealer. Or a vampire. God, what even is a vampire baby?"

"You know… baby-faced. Pale. Broody. Hangs out in corners. Likes antique furniture." You gesture vaguely, like you're describing a wine.

"Still no," Aecha says, but her smile slips just a little. "But I will say... he’s not exactly someone I can just go around telling people I’m dating."

You and Chul exchange glances.

"Jesus, who is he then?" Chul says, leaning forward with his chin on his hand. "C’mon, babe. All this secrecy is exhausting. You’re wearing us down like some kind of a psychological warfare expert."

Aecha just shrugs again, lips curving into that maddening, knowing smile. "Good things come to those who wait.”

"Aaand, c’mon, guys," Aecha sighs, blowing on her coffee before taking a small sip. "It’s not like I’m keeping you waiting forever. For fuck’s sake, you’ll be meeting him—and his closest friends—tonight."

Chul’s eyes narrow, a slow, wicked grin forming. Then, in a low, ominous whisper, he leans in toward you. "Imagine they’re a group of human traffickers... and Aecha’s just their charming recruiter."

You snort. "Okay, that’s a little too specific, Chul."

"I’m just saying," he continues, eyes wide with mock horror, "if I end up stuffed in a trunk or smuggled across borders, I want it on record that she brought me to this dinner."

"No, but seriously?" you add, more dramatic than necessary. "I’m telling my mother where I’m going. If I disappear, she will avenge me."

"God, you’re both insane," Aecha mutters, laughing into her cup.

"Insane but prepared," Chul says. "That’s how survivors think.”

The fact that Aecha won’t even tell you her boyfriend’s name is… mildly weird. Actually, scratch that—it’s very weird. She’s never been the secretive type. If anything, she’s the kind of person who gives you the full name, zodiac sign, and three red flags of any guy she’s crushing on—whether it's someone she matched with for five minutes or actually dated for five weeks.

So the silence now? The mystery? It’s not just out of character—it’s loud.

Whoever this guy is, he must matter. Like, really matter. Either that, or something about him makes things complicated. And that? That makes you uneasy.

The idea of Aecha dating an idol has crossed your mind more than once. And honestly, that would be a solid reason to keep things secret. It makes sense. It fits.

But you try not to go there. Because you know. You know how messy it gets when people get tangled up in that world—the kind of dynamic that drains you, strips your privacy, and leaves you more alone than you were to begin with. The pressure, the lies, the heartbreak that's practically guaranteed.

So you don’t think about it. Or at least you try not to. It's easier to joke about vampire boyfriends or underground crime syndicates than to face a possibility that actually makes sense. A possibility that could genuinely hurt her.

Especially with her job—working in the digital marketing team at SM Entertainment—she’s in it. Right there, in the orbit of fame and its gravitational mess. And the odds of her meeting someone who lives in that spotlight? High. Too high.

And that’s what makes it worse.

"Aight, I gotta bounce. My shift starts in 45 minutes and I actually wanna keep this job," Chul groans, tossing back the last sip of lukewarm coffee like it’s tequila.

He gets up, drags himself to the sink, and starts washing his cup with the enthusiasm of a man being held at gunpoint.

"Wow," you say, raising an eyebrow. "Look who finally discovered the kitchen sink."

"I’m only doing this so you don’t go full FBI on me about it later," he mutters.

"That’s called growth, baby."

"Okay, don’t forget dinner!" Aecha calls out as he wrestles with his shoelaces like they personally offended him. "8PM sharp. LaRoy’s. If you're late, I’m telling them you died."

"Relax," he grunts, halfway into his hoodie. "I’ll be there. But just so we’re clear—if this turns out to be some cult initiation dinner, I’m eating first, then running."

"That’s fair," you nod. "Die with a full stomach. Iconic."

"Also, if I get kidnapped, I’m haunting you both. And I’m not gonna be a chill ghost. I’ll whisper embarrassing shit during your Zoom calls."

"Joke’s on you, I already embarrass myself daily," you shrug. "You’d be background noise."

"Love the support, really. Bye, losers."

And with that, he’s gone—probably already mentally composing his resignation letter.

When Chul leaves, it’s just you and Aecha again.

She’s immediately back on her phone, nails tapping out soft clicks against the screen—the kind of ASMR sound that weirdly soothes your brain. She’s smiling. Small, but there. The kind of smile reserved for someone. Mystery Man.

You don’t poke at her this time. Instead, you open your laptop, skimming through the last chapter you wrote, wincing at some of your word choices like they personally betrayed you.

"What are you doing today?" Aecha asks without looking up, but you can tell she’s peeled her eyes away from the screen just enough to look at you.

You sigh. "Writing. Or dying. Depends how dramatic I feel in an hour. I have to finish at least one chapter today or else both my editor and publisher are going to show up at my funeral just to make sure I’m really dead."

"Damn," she laughs, "at least you're being emotionally tortured by something you love."

"Yeah, yeah," you mutter. "I do love it. I just hate the part where I have to prove I'm not a lazy roach every three days. But don’t worry, I’ll be there for dinner. There’s no way I’m missing the grand reveal of Mr. No-Name."

"Good," Aecha says, biting back a grin. "I’ll be with him today. He’s got the day off—those are basically unicorn sightings. I’ll get ready at his place."

You gape. "Wait, so I’m stuck getting ready with Chul? Girl, you know he’s gonna stand in the doorway and trash all my outfit options like he’s a one-man 'Project Runway' judge panel."

"Oh absolutely," Aecha says, nodding. "You should prepare a backup outfit he picks. Just for the chaos."

"He’d probably put me in Crocs and a poncho just to see me suffer."

"And you’d still serve."

You glance up from your laptop. "I would, wouldn’t I?”

"Of course you would," Aecha grins, all smug and mysterious.

And then? Silence. The kind where you’re both in your little bubbles—her giggling at her phone like it’s whispering sweet nothings, and you glaring at your laptop like it just slapped your mom.

You’re trying to write. You really are. But this one scene is being stubborn. No matter how many times you rewrite it, it still reads like garbage written by a sleep-deprived raccoon with WiFi.

Your eye twitches.

Then—RING RING.

"Shit, he’s here?!" Aecha yelps, launching off the couch like she just sat on a ghost. She’s grabbing her purse, her wallet, a random sock, possibly someone’s toothbrush—you’re not even sure anymore.

"Wait, where is here?" you ask, blinking through the chaos.

"Here-here! Like, downstairs-here! Picking-me-up-here!" she hisses, as she smacks on lipstick with the grace of someone who's clearly done this in moving vehicles before.

"Damn, thank god you’re chill about it," you say, watching the storm unfold.

"Shut up," she breathes, checking herself in the mirror like she’s about to accept an Oscar.

She turns to you, one shoe on, purse hanging half open, still looking criminally good. "Okay, I’m leaving. See you tonight, babe!"

"Byeeeeee," you sing, and wait exactly 2.4 seconds after the door shuts before sprinting to the window like you’re in a Netflix thriller.

Full. Detective. Mode.

If she won’t tell you who this guy is, you’re gonna Nancy Drew your way into the answer.

You peek through the blinds—subtle, of course. Very stealth. But all you see is a car.

A very nice car.

A sexy, blacked-out, borderline Batman-looking Mercedes G 63.

You whistle under your breath. “Sir, what do you do for a living? And can I do it too?”

The windows are tinted darker than your search history. There’s no way to see inside. Just Aecha getting in, flipping her hair like this is her life now and the rest of you peasants can stay pressed.

The car glides away like it’s floating on money.

You stand there, blinking, brain already spiraling. Rich? Idol? CEO? Cult leader with good branding?

You sigh and flop back down on the couch.

“Good for her,” you mumble. “Eat the rich. Or at least… ride in their cars and moisturize with their money.”

You spend the rest of your day in the most unproductive, soul-crushing spiral imaginable. The kind of spiral where you stare at your laptop for so long, the blinking cursor starts to feel like it’s mocking you. Blink. Blink. You suck. Blink.

You write half a sentence. Delete it. Write a new one. Delete that too. Open Instagram. Hate everyone. Go back to the doc. Stare at the same three words for twenty minutes.

Your brain is soup. Not even good soup. Like watery instant ramen you forgot to flavor.

At one point, you dramatically flop face-down onto the couch and heavily consider committing one of two crimes:

One: Emailing your editor a resignation letter that just says "goodbye forever."

Two: Getting blackout drunk and letting the creative spirits possess you.

Option two is dangerously tempting. Tequila does make you poetic. But… you’re going to a dinner tonight. With Aecha’s mystery man and his friends. The man who drives a car that probably costs more than your organs combined.

You want to be sober. Observant. Ready to judge.

Because listen—if the man owns a Mercedes G 63, you know he’s dropping at least a couple hundred on wine tonight. You refuse to let his overpriced bottle taste like grape vinegar just because you had a solo pity party before dinner.

So you wait. Like a sad wife staring out the window for her husband at war. Except the war is Chul’s corporate shift and the husband is your emotional stability.

“Where the hell is he…” you mutter, tapping your pen against your notebook.

You have no idea what you’re wearing tonight. You have no mental energy to figure it out. You need Chul. You need his critiques, his sighs of disappointment, his dramatic gasp when you suggest wearing sneakers.

God help you if he comes home late. Or worse—if he says he’s too tired to help.

You might genuinely cry.

When the door finally creaks open, you let out a sigh of dramatic relief, like a damsel rescued from a burning building.

“I’m baaack!” Chul calls, dragging out the vowels. You hear the familiar thud of shoes being kicked off and keys clattering into the bowl by the door before he saunters into the living room like he owns the place—which, okay, partially, he does.

He takes one look at you, curled up on the couch like a cryptid, laptop half-slid down your lap, face twisted in literary despair.

“You writing?” he asks, already suspicious.

“Trying to,” you mumble, eyes still glued to the cursed blinking cursor.

He squints at you. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Not at all.”

He flops down beside you with a grunt, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it like it personally owes him money.

“Is it like… ‘I can’t write because I’m empty inside’ trying? Or ‘I can’t write because I accidentally stalked Aecha’s mystery man via car model and now my brain is fried’ trying?”

You blink at him.

“Both.”

“Knew it. You’re a menace.”

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch. “He drives a G 63, Chul. What kind of a man does that? What kind of bank account does that?”

Chul gasps. “A dangerous one. Probably moisturizes with La Mer and screams at assistants named Greg.”

You both sit in silence for a moment, processing the sheer luxury of the situation.

“…We have to look hot tonight.” you mutter.

Chul tosses the pillow aside like it’s a grenade. “I’ll get the steamer.”

The next two hours turn into a full-blown getting ready montage, complete with outfit changes, near-death experiences with the eyelash curler, and Chul nearly setting the apartment on fire trying to steam his shirt.

By the time you’re done, you look like a Pinterest board brought to life. Your makeup is peak clean girl aesthetic—dewy skin, fluffy brows, and just the right amount of highlighter to make it look like you're always basking in golden hour. Your hair is curled to soft, effortless perfection (even though it took 45 minutes and one minor burn), and your white, off-shoulder dress hugs your body like it was custom-made for night.

Chul, on the other hand, looks like he walked straight out of a K-drama. He’s wearing these dangerously good khaki dress pants that somehow make his legs look ten feet long, and a white button-up that he very intentionally left two buttons undone. It’s giving “CEO with a tragic past”, and honestly? If he wasn’t so aggressively gay, you'd have jumped him in the hallway by now.

“Do I look hot?” he asks, spinning slowly.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Tragic,” he sighs, spritzing himself with cologne like he’s about to go on a date with destiny.

The ride to the restaurant is weirdly silent. You and Chul keep exchanging glances like you’re in a horror movie where the monster is definitely hiding in plain sight. Both of you are too nervous to say anything out loud, like the car itself might snitch to Aecha.

When you finally step inside LaRoy’s, the first thing that hits you is how insanely gorgeous the place is. It’s giving Michelin star meets royalty on vacation. Golden chandeliers, velvet chairs, waiters with actual white gloves. You’re about to comment on it when—

“Wait... where is everyone?” Chul whispers.

And yeah. That’s when it hits you. The place is completely empty. Not a single other customer in sight. Just you, Chul, and an unsettling level of ambiance.

Chul and you exchange the we’re-definitely-about-to-die look.

Then, a pristine-looking hostess materializes out of nowhere like she was programmed to show up at maximum tension.

“Chul and Y/N?”

You both answer in unison, way too synchronized for comfort:

“Yes.”

“Right this way.”

You follow her through the overly quiet restaurant like you’re walking toward your own funeral. You glance at Chul, who is now casually patting down his hair and silently mouthing, ‘We’re so screwed’.

And then—you see her.

Aecha. Sitting at a massive round table like she owns the damn place. She’s already mid-laugh when she spots you two, and her smile somehow manages to get bigger. Like she's been waiting for this exact moment of dramatic entrance.

You don’t know if you should wave or run. Probably both.

And then you see the hand.

That hand—casually draped over Aecha’s shoulder, a silent claim.

You already know where this is going, but it doesn’t stop the twist in your stomach when you finally see who’s sitting next to her.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you freeze. You don’t even care about the fact that he’s ridiculously good-looking, or how the room feels like it’s just a bit too bright. No. What hits you like a freight train is that if he’s here...

Yoongi is, too.

Fuck.

You don’t even need to look around the table to know. The feeling crawls up your spine like a warning signal, one that you’ve tried to ignore for years, but here it is, loud and unavoidable. The tightness in your chest. The pulse of nausea that makes you want to choke on your own breath.

You can’t look at Jungkook. You can’t.

Because if you do, the truth slaps you right across the face, and it’s one you’ve been running from. Jungkook is just a mess of questions you don’t care to have answered. But Yoongi? Yoongi’s the reason your heart beats too fast, why you’re still tangled in memories you should have let go of.

And then you see him.

Jesus.

The way his eyes land on you is like it’s been years since you last saw each other—and honestly, that's the truth. Two years. Two years passed. The ache that pulls at your ribs, the rawness that floods you, is something you thought had faded into oblivion. You thought you were over it.

But it’s never that easy, is it?

Chul notices immediately, the shift in your expression, the way your posture changes, rigid as though you’ve been frozen by some invisible force. His hand rests on your arm gently, a silent question. But what can you say? What can you explain without laying it all bare in front of people who have no idea about your history with him?

And you know it’s not just the fact that Yoongi is here—it’s that feeling. That damn ache that never really goes away. The past flooding back to suffocate you in this room full of people who have no clue what’s going on in your head.

You can’t breathe.

You’re not ready for this. You weren’t ready to see him again. Not like this. Not with Chul looking at you like he’s wondering if you’re okay.

But Yoongi? Yoongi’s eyes stay locked on yours. No words. No movement. Just that look. The one that says everything, even though it says nothing at all.

It’s like he’s still inside you. Like nothing has changed. You’re right back there, a thousand moments too many.

And it hits you—the final realization that this dinner isn’t just awkward. It’s a damn reminder of all the unfinished business you wish you could bury.

You’ve never felt so out of control.

“Oh my God, hi guys,” Aecha stands up with that familiar sparkle in her eye, wrapping you in a hug that feels tighter than usual. You hug her back, but your hands are clammy, your heart heavy in your chest. The warmth in her smile is real—but you can’t match it right now. Not with everything pressing down on you.

You force a breath as your gaze flickers over the table. You skip him. You skip Yoongi. On purpose.

Your hand finds the hem of your dress, discreetly wiping off the sweat as you steel yourself to be polite. Presentable. Normal.

Jungkook stands to greet you, that signature sweetness etched into every corner of his face. “Hey, I’m Jungkook,” he says, extending his hand. He doesn’t know. You see it immediately. There’s no recognition of your history—only curiosity, maybe a spark of interest, but nothing more.

You shake his hand, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.” Chul introduces himself too, and Jungkook lights up, immediately vibing with him, which helps, a little. The rest of the guys are friendly, laid-back. They smile, say their names, nod politely. It should feel normal.

But then.

He stands.

And everything slows.

“Min Yoongi,” he says evenly, his tone smooth and familiar in the worst way. He extends his hand, and for a moment you freeze. You think about ignoring it. About pretending. But that would draw too much attention—especially with Aecha watching so closely.

So you take it.

Your name slips from your mouth like it doesn’t belong to you. Like it’s a line from a script you’ve forgotten how to feel.

His skin is warm. You wish it wasn’t.

It lasts no more than a second. But when you sit down, your whole body feels altered.

Chul’s next, his handshake with Yoongi stiffer, his eyes avoiding yours. You don’t need to ask to know—he’s silently panicking. He knows everything. And you’re both trying to act like nothing happened, like Yoongi and you didn’t ruin each other once and then vanish from each other's worlds.

Namjoon watches. Quietly. Sharp eyes missing nothing.

You wonder if Yoongi gave him the full truth. Or just enough to keep him quiet.

Either way—this dinner is going to suck.

You settle into your chairs, side by side like you're bracing for impact. On your right sits Kim Taehyung, draped in luxury like it's a second skin, sipping water like it's champagne. On Chul’s left, Yoongi is already sprawled in his chair, legs stretched out like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Honestly? Mood.

You flick your eyes at Chul. He looks like he’s debating whether to throw up or chug the complimentary sparkling water. No in-between.

“Sooo,” Chul finally speaks, voice artificially light. “Give us the story of how you two met. Like okay, you’re dating him,” he points a thumb at Jungkook, “but you work for SM, not HYBE.”

Aecha beams, clearly ready for this part. “It was during a promotional event the guys were at. I was there handling digital strategy for EXO, and Jungkook was invited as a guest and—”

“She was holding an iPad like it was a weapon,” Jungkook cuts in with a laugh, eyes crinkling. “I was just trying to ask where the restrooms were, and she looked at me like I was trying to hack the mainframe.”

“I did,” Aecha says dramatically. “He walked up all shy like, ‘Excuse me—’ and I was like, ‘Do not distract me, I’m in the middle of an algorithmic miracle.’”

“Which turned out to be a TikTok schedule,” Jungkook deadpans.

“Hey. That TikTok trended for three days. I saved Baekhyun’s brand.”

They’re laughing. Everyone at the table joins in. Except you.

And Yoongi.

Taehyung leans a little closer, eyes twinkling. “So what about you two?” he asks innocently, gesturing between you and Chul.

“We’re not together,” you and Chul say in perfect sync, too quickly, like soldiers trained for battle.

“Oh,” Taehyung blinks. “I mean—okay.”

“Yeah,” Chul coughs, “I’m very gay and she’s very… emotionally unavailable.”

“Thanks for that,” you mutter, shooting him a glare.

“What? You are.”

“Okay but you once cried because the guy you liked didn’t like The 1975.”

“Because he had no taste,” Chul hisses back.

Namjoon snorts into his glass. Yoongi remains silent. You can feel him, though—his presence heavier than anything on the menu. He hasn’t looked at you once. Not since the handshake. But you know he’s listening. You know.

Aecha smiles brightly. “Isn’t this nice? Everyone vibing already!”

You glance at her, then at Yoongi’s shoulder half a meter away from yours. You're practically inhaling the same air and pretending he’s a stranger.

Yeah.

Nice.

Totally vibing.

“So,” Aecha starts, swirling her wine like she didn’t just drop a social grenade, “What’s everyone getting? The truffle risotto is apparently divine.”

You reach for the menu like it might shield you from the tension building beside you. Yoongi still hasn’t spoken. Still hasn’t looked at you. It’s like sitting next to a ghost you used to let touch you.

Chul nudges your knee under the table. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s silently asking if you’re okay. You’re not. But you nod anyway.

“I’ll probably get the steak,” Jungkook says. “Haven’t eaten properly all day.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Taehyung mutters. “You only drink iced americanos and chew gum like it’s a food group.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“You’re chronically late.”

“Still busy.”

Yoongi finally speaks. “Get the steak rare,” he mutters without looking up, “They overcook everything past medium.”

His voice. It slashes through the air like a knife dipped in nostalgia and regret. You freeze for half a second. Just half. But Chul notices.

“Ohhh, steak boy speaks,” Taehyung says dramatically.

Yoongi doesn’t respond. Just drinks his water.

“So, Yoongi,” Aecha smiles, “still working on that solo album?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

“How’s it going?” she asks sweetly.

“Like a root canal. But with synths.”

The table laughs. You don’t. You remember what he sounds like at 3am talking about chord progressions and bridges like they’re living things. You remember that look in his eyes when he finished a song and asked you to listen first. You remember a version of him that smiled at you across a messy bed, not across a dinner table full of other people.

You sip your wine. You need something stronger.

Namjoon clears his throat. “So, Y/N,” he says, forcing a new topic, “Aecha said you’re a writer?”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. I write romance.”

“Like… smut?”

Taehyung leans in, curious. Too curious.

Chul coughs loudly. “Not just smut.”

“I mean… a little smut,” you admit, shrugging, because what else are you gonna do? Lie?

“That’s dope,” Jungkook grins, nodding. “That takes guts.”

Yoongi still doesn’t say anything.

“I read one of her books once,” Chul announces, like he’s proud. “Couldn’t look her in the eye for a week.”

“Because you read the scene,” you mutter.

“Oh, you know I read the scene.”

“Wait,” Taehyung interrupts, eyes wide. “Do you base your characters on real people?”

You open your mouth to answer, but before anything leaves your lips, Yoongi suddenly stands.

“I’m gonna smoke,” he mutters, already walking away before anyone can respond.

Silence follows in his wake. Chul clears his throat.

“I’d say he’s always like that but… he’s not.” Jimin sighs into his wine.

You stab at your salad like it insulted your lineage.

And Aecha, bless her clueless soul, just smiles and says, “Maybe I will get that risotto.”

When Yoongi comes back, the conversation is already flowing. The wine’s been poured (maybe a little too generously), the bread basket is on its second refill, and you’re three laughs deep into a story with Jin and Taehyung.

You didn’t dare follow him outside. Nope. Not a chance. You weren’t about to chase a ghost into the night like it’s some 2014 Tumblr breakup playlist.

So you stayed, committed to the bit, committed to pretending your past isn’t three chairs away and brooding in black. Well he was smoking outside. But you get the point.

And now? You’re vibing.

“Wait, you’re telling me you were the one who wrote Dear Me?” Taehyung says, eyes wide like you just told him you invented bread.

You nod, sipping your wine like it’s a mic drop.

“That would be me.”

“NO.” His jaw is dropped. “No no no. That book ruined my entire week. I didn't leave my room. I didn't eat.”

Jin leans forward dramatically. “I read that one. I didn’t come out of my room for three days after that. Why is it so fucking sad?”

You grin. “It’s called talent. Look it up.”

Jin places a hand over his heart like you stabbed him. “Do you thrive on making your readers cry?”

“I mean…” You shrug. “A little. It’s character development. For you, not the characters.”

“Twisted,” Taehyung mumbles. “You need therapy.”

“And yet here you are, emotionally wrecked and asking for more.”

“You’re dangerous,” Jin points at you. “You’re like one of those hot witches in fantasy novels who curse people with heartbreak and then look hot doing it.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers.”

That’s when you feel it—him.

Yoongi slides back into his chair, and even though you don’t look at him, you know. You know from the slight shift in the table. The way the energy dips by ten degrees. The way Chul subtly straightens up like he might have to go full bodyguard in two seconds.

“So,” Namjoon says, like he’s stepping between a lit fuse and a barrel of gunpowder, “Yoongi, did you smoke the entire pack or just half?”

“Depends,” Yoongi replies flatly. “Did the conversation get better while I was gone?”

“Oh,” Jin grins, “way better. She wrote Dear Me.”

Yoongi stills. You don’t look at him. But you hear it in the pause. The inhale. The weight of a book title that he knows isn’t fiction.

“That book,” Jin continues, oblivious, “is basically emotional waterboarding.”

Yoongi takes a slow sip of his drink. “Sounds familiar.”

Your hand tightens around your glass. So we’re doing this. We’re being subtle.

“It’s fiction,” you say brightly. “Totally made up. Not a single shred of truth in it.”

Yoongi finally glances at you, eyes sharp. “Right. Fiction.”

Taehyung, bless his heart, frowns. “Wait. Is this about that scene with the voicemail? ‘Cause that—”

Chul loudly coughs and drops his fork.

“Anyway,” he says, “Jungkook, how’s your dog?”

Jungkook blinks. “Uhh… he’s good?”

“Great. Cool. Let’s talk more about that.”

The table dissolves into messy conversation again, everyone just a little too loud, a little too animated. You finally risk a glance at Yoongi. He’s looking at you, of course.

And beneath the casual disinterest, his eyes say it loud and clear:

You really thought I wouldn’t recognize myself in your pages?

You take another sip of wine and look away.

You were the one who told me to write what I know.

“Sooo,” Taehyung sings, one eyebrow cocked and eyes glittering as they dart to you. His voice alone is dangerous—smooth and teasing, the kind that could talk you into trouble without breaking a sweat. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

You pause mid-sip, arching a brow. “Umm, I’m pretty sure Chul already mentioned my emotional unavailability.”

Across the table, Chul snorts. “That’s an understatement.”

“Maybe,” Taehyung leans in a little, resting his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm, “we can work on that one.”

You blink. “What, my issues?”

“No,” he grins, wolfish and playful. “Your availability.”

Hoseok doesn’t look up from cutting his steak, but his fork slows. “Taehyung.”

“What?” Taehyung says innocently, eyes still trained on you. “We’re just talking. I’m curious. I like to connect with people.”

“Yeah, well maybe let her breathe before you start undressing her with your eyes,” Jimin mutters, sipping his wine.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “let him. I put effort into this dress.”

“Exactly,” Taehyung points at you. “You wore it for a reason, don’t lie.”

You lean back, smirking. “I wore it for the free wine, actually.”

Yoongi mutters under his breath, “Still desperate for the buzz, huh?”

You don’t even look at him. “Still pretending like you’re too good for anything fun, huh?”

There’s a pause. A weird pause.

And then Jungkook narrows his eyes between the two of you. “Wait. Hold on. You two know each other?”

Namjoon’s knife slips and scrapes against his plate with a loud screech. Chul straight up drops his fork.

You blink slowly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Define know.”

“I knew it,” Taehyung leans forward, eyes wide with delight.

“No, no, no, it’s not like that,” Chul jumps in, hands raised like he’s waving off a scandal. “They… uh, they were in a workshop together.”

You shoot him a look. A “really?” kind of look.

Namjoon nods way too fast. “Yeah. Yeah! Like two years ago. They had a, uh… poetry workshop?”

“Poetry?” Jin asks, clearly unconvinced. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi just stares blankly at the table like he’s counting down the seconds till he can leave.

“Yep,” Namjoon barrels forward. “Modern poetry. Tuesdays and Thursdays, 8 a.m. Real intense syllabus.”

“Exactly,” Chul laughs awkwardly. “Like, Emily Dickinson, Rupi Kaur… very deep.”

“I dropped out after three weeks,” Yoongi says flatly.

“Oh,” Jungkook says, squinting at him, then at you. “And you stayed in?”

You nod, cheeks warm. “Loved every second of it.”

Taehyung’s trying not to laugh. “Okay, sure. What was your favorite poem?”

You deadpan, “The one about heartbreak and regret.”

Yoongi mutters under his breath, “Original.”

You snap back, “At least I read something.”

Chul loudly clears his throat. “So, um, wine! Should we order another bottle?”

Namjoon nearly slams his glass down. “Yes. Definitely. Someone flag a waiter.”

Taehyung hums, still eyeing you like he’s crafting a sonnet in his head. “Tell you what—if we survive this night, I’m taking you out. No emotional unavailability allowed.”

You raise a brow. “And what if I ghost you after?”

He smirks. “Then I’ll write a sad poem and hope it gets published. Sound familiar?”

Jimin jumps in, glancing at Chul. “So what is going on with you two, huh?”

“We’re roommates,” Chul replies, deadpan.

“Roommates who get ready together for dinner like it’s prom night?” Yoongi mutters, not even looking up from his glass.

“Dude. I already said—I’m into men. I like penises. Hope this helps.”

The entire table erupts.

Taehyung nearly falls out of his chair laughing. Jin bangs the table. Namjoon mutters, “I needed that level of honesty today.”

Jungkook wheezes, “I’m framing that quote.”

Meanwhile, you're crying from laughter and embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands. “God, Chul, you’re so dramatic.”

“I’m not dramatic, I’m just tired of being confused for your boyfriend when I’m actively fantasizing about Park Seojoon,” Chul fires back.

Jimin, without even looking up from his plate, goes, “Honestly, mood.”

Jin wipes a tear from his eye. “Okay, fair. Penises. Got it.”

Taehyung raises his glass toward Chul. “To penises.”

Everyone clinks their glasses—except you, still dying inside.

“So,” Namjoon says, pointing his chopsticks at you like they’re a lie detector, “are you working on something new?”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine. “Uhh… kinda yeah.”

“Okay, so that’s a yes, but it’s going terribly,” Jin interprets, nodding sagely.

You sigh, dramatically collapsing back in your chair. “It’s like… my brain is a hamster wheel. Except the hamster died. And now the wheel is just creaking ominously in the wind.”

Taehyung gasps. “That’s so dark. I love it. Can I be the dead hamster?”

“Please,” you deadpan, “be my guest.”

Namjoon chuckles. “So it’s writer’s block?”

“Big time. Like, I’ve stared at a blank document for so long, I think it’s starting to stare back.”

Chul chimes in, “I found her today whispering ‘just one sentence’ to her laptop like it owed her money.”

“It does owe me money,” you say, poking at your food. “And dignity.”

Aecha grins. “Have you tried turning it off and crying?”

Yoongi mutters, “That’s my approach to life, honestly.”

“Oh my god, same,” you say, raising your glass toward him.

Taehyung, ever the opportunist, leans in with a flirty glint in his eye. “Maybe you just need some fresh inspiration.”

You raise a brow. “Are you volunteering?”

“I mean…” he shrugs, smirking. “I do look good in tragic love stories.”

“Tragic is right,” Yoongi mumbles under his breath.

Namjoon laughs. “Okay, okay—can we please get a live reading if she ever finishes it?”

You scoff. “Only if you promise not to cry.”

“I make no such promises,” Namjoon says, holding up his hands. “According to Tae and Jin, you write pain too well.”

Taehyung leans in again, this time resting his chin on his hand, eyes twinkling. “I’m serious. Write something hopeful. Like a tortured writer meets a charming stranger in a too-fancy restaurant. Sparks fly. Banter ensues. Maybe a little—” he pauses, eyes flickering to your lips, “—tension.”

You chuckle, but you feel the heat creep up your neck. “What are you trying to do, cast yourself as the love interest?”

Jin jumps in, laughing. “Please, the man’s been auditioning since the appetizers.”

“Can you blame me?” Taehyung says dramatically. “She’s hot, she’s funny, and she writes angst that emotionally ruins people. I’m practically in love already.”

Yoongi’s fork clinks a little too hard against his plate.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, sensing the shift. “You okay, hyung?”

Yoongi shrugs, not looking up. “Just didn’t realize we were casting for a romcom tonight.”

“You wanna audition too?” Jin grins. “Could be a love triangle.”

“I don’t do love triangles,” Yoongi mutters, swirling his drink. “Too messy.”

Chul snorts. “Says the guy who practically invented emotional mess but ‘make it music’.”

You glance at him, curious, but Yoongi doesn’t take the bait. Instead, his eyes flicker up and lock with yours for a split second—just long enough for your breath to catch.

Taehyung doesn’t miss it, and he grins wider, leaning closer to you. “Well, if it were a love triangle, I’d fight dirty.”

“Oh my god,” Chul groans. “This is officially a Wattpad fic now.”

“Shut up,” you say, biting your lip to hold back a smile.

Taehyung winks. “I’ll be waiting for my cameo in chapter five.”

Aecha leans forward, swirling her wine lazily. “Yoongi, didn’t you say you’ve been dealing with a block too?”

Yoongi gives a slow nod, jaw ticking slightly. “Yeah. It’s been rough. But, you know… it comes with the territory. It’s part of the process, unfortunately.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raising slightly as he continues.

“I’m not really in a rush, though. The next album isn’t coming out until next year anyway. D-Day’s still pretty fresh. Still got some breathing room.”

Aecha perks up instantly. “Oh my God, D-Day! We were obsessed. The three of us actually had a whole listening party when it dropped. Like, wine, snacks, full breakdowns of lyrics... tears.”

“Mostly Chul’s tears,” you chime in, smirking.

“I stand by them,” Chul says dramatically. “'Amygdala' had me pacing the hallway like a divorced man in a drama.”

Yoongi chuckles, soft and genuine. “Happy to hear D-Day landed.”

“And by ‘landed,’ he means it sucker-punched us in the gut and left us on the floor,” you mutter.

“Good,” Yoongi says, a tiny smirk playing at his lips. “That’s the goal.”

For a second, his eyes flick to yours. And something lingers there—quiet, unspoken, and just slightly bruised.

You don’t look away. Not yet.

“We actually went to the concert too,” Aecha says, casually lifting her wine glass.

Jungkook gasps, clutching his chest like she just betrayed him. “You didn’t tell me about this? You attended my hyung’s concert without me?”

“You didn’t even know me back then, Kook,” Aecha laughs, nudging his shoulder. “It was, like, peak fangirl era.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “You were there?” he asks, looking at all three of you—but his gaze lands and lingers on you.

Your stomach flips. “Yeah, we were,” you say, carefully meeting his eyes. “It was… incredible.”

His expression softens, just a little. “Huh. Didn’t expect that.”

“We cried,” Chul announces dramatically, raising a hand. “Like, real tears. Especially her.” He jerks his thumb toward you.

You shoot him a look. “Chul, please.”

“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, grinning. “Some of us may or may not have said ‘he’s a genius’ in the middle of the second chorus.”

Yoongi’s lips twitch, that almost-smile threatening to show itself again. “Good to know I had such a poetic impact.”

You smile faintly, and something about the way he looks at you—like he's trying to read a secret you never meant to share—makes your throat tighten just a little.

Yoongi takes a slow sip of his drink, eyes still on you, like he’s trying to decide if he should say something or let the silence speak instead. He goes with the second option—until Taehyung interrupts.

“So, Y/N,” Taehyung leans in, smirking, “did you fall in love with him before or after People Pt.2?”

You snort. “Definitely after. Before that, he was still hiding behind metaphors.”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks. “You think I hide behind metaphors?”

You glance at him, heartbeat hitching just slightly. “You live behind metaphors.”

A beat of silence passes. His eyes don’t leave yours. “And yet you still showed up.”

You want to roll your eyes, but it’s too sincere to dismiss. “Yeah, well… good lyrics deserve to be heard. Doesn’t mean I know the man behind them.”

Yoongi leans back in his chair, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Maybe you did.”

taglist: @park-littlecrane @gyozajoon @knjs95s @jajabro @peacenpigeons @supertopsecretleebit @glossyfanfic @mar-lo-pap @kittyyyminnn @jennierubyjem @ot72025 @yohoosoju @diame93 @ryryvna @taekritimin123 @baechugff @enfppuff @amarawayne @134340-kr @mikrokookiex @futuristicenemychaos @shesscorpio7 @kam9404 @teaaaaaan @blubird592 @rpwprpwprpwprw @ktownshizzle @tea4sykes @jennierubyjem @butterfly-lover @jellihueni @xtracy-xd7 @annyeongbitch7 @rkivved-girl @mygtangerine @busanbby-jk @jennierubyjem @kiki-zb @marissariveraaaa

[areislol]

A time to tell

► PAIRINGS. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

► GENRE. sagau, reverse isekai, domestic life/slice of lofe, explicit/sexual (18+ for the nsfw chapters) themes.

SYNOPSIS. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to you.

WARNINGS. eventual smut, harem, angst with comfort.

STATUS. on going//i will try to update as fast and best as i can but i do procrastinate a lot so.. i do have school and work to do so updates may be a bit slow.. i will try my best though!! i do not have a specific update time, i just update whenever I finish a chapter so please bear with me, i wish i had an allocated timetable or something but i just can't fit that into my schedule (posting on a specific time).

EXTRA. i started this series because i needdd to feed my love for reverse isekai fics and i saw that there werent a lot so i was like !!! why not create my own? also, the chapters that had NSFW content in them will have the 🔞 logo beside the chapter name.

- reader is in college (has a part time job)

TAGLIST. open

> RECOMMENDED SONGS WILL BE INCLUDED IN THE CHAPTERS <

“y/n, we will be here for you for however you want us to be, we will leave even if you asked us to just please, please don’t leave us.”

chapter index

i. chapter one - the start of it all

◇─where you find yourself in a room with 24 handsome men, the thing is.. you know them from the popular game that you even played and spent hundreds of money on.. genshin impact!

ii. chapter two - the morning after

◇─the morning after everything had happened, you decided to do a little bonding session.. which was by watching your favourite movies with them of course!

iii. chapter three - a shopping spree

◇─you decide to go shopping to buy some things for you and the men, you bond by watching movies with them and playing UNO.

iv. chapter four - "you really took took care of us, huh?"

◇─a couple days goes by after meeting the men, all is going good, your daily routine has changed, and the fact that you start work tomorrow too doesn't help anything at all.

v. chapter five - Back to work

◇─you have to return back to work after having your days off, little did you know you would find out something that would absolutely make you feel at unease and that would make you paranoid forever.

MINI FIC - Merry christmas! (wait why are we supposed to say that again?)

◇─celebrate christmas with them!!

vi. chapter six - The stalker

◇─not in a million years did you expect to ever get yourself a stalker, how did you? no idea. but with the sudden help of a woman she manages to find a way to catch the stalker. will you and your friends or well, the men, see her ever again, and will they meet for the good or bad?

vi. chapter seven - A walk in the park

◇─deciding that it has been quite some time since the men went out, you take them out to a park and have a picnic, bonding time if you will.

viii. chapter eight - Credit where it's not due

◇─you finally have some time to understand elisa, and to be honest, you aren't sure if you and her get along.

MINI FIC - A New Year’s With You

◇─happy new years!!

[treatmelikeasmut]

The Artist and the Engineer Part 1//Chapter Three//Pose Reference

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Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Artist!Reader

Series Synopsis: Heimerdinger wants a commemorative painting done of Viktor, who is not fond of the idea.

Chapter Synopsis: Viktor and the artist are back for their second session. He's being far more cooperative this time. But it seems the artist may have something to hide.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author’s Note: I'm still debating how I want to flip-flop between Viktor and reader. If it's going to be every other chapter, or if it's just going to be however the flow feels right.

Don’t forget to like, comment, and reblog your favorite fics ❤️

~*~*~

You were late.

Super, incredibly late.

You’d gotten in the zone; playing music, working on a commissioned painting. You’d completely lost track of time. It was so easy for it to slip away like that. When you finally decided to take a break, the clock on the wall read five after two. Your apartment was ten minutes from campus if you ran like your life depended on it.

People clogged up the roads and sidewalks, which definitely didn’t help your situation. Some people yelled after you as you shoved through the crowd. You knew all too well the consequences of being late to appointments. You were just glad the spring thaw had finally seemed to be staying. The breeze no longer held its icy bite.

Still, sweat trickled down your spine as you finally made your way through the entry arch of the academy. You paused briefly, shielding your eyes as they hunted for the clock tower. It read 20 after. Cursing under your breath, you hustled towards the main door.

Standing just outside was a familiar face, Fallon, one of your friends who was still working through her undergraduate studies. Usually recognizable by her sizable stack of long, dark curls. She smiled, waving as she called you over. You returned the greeting.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you rushed.

“I just got out of of class, I have a before hours before my next one starts. You want to get lunch?”

“I would, but I have an appointment to keep and I’m running super behind!” You were already halfway through the door. “I’m so sorry, I swear, we’ll catch up soon! I’ll see you later"!”

Fallon called something after you, but it was lost when the door shut. You speed walked down the main corridor, and then turned into the hall that would take you towards the art wing. When you were sure there was no one around, you broke into a jog. You knew Heimerdinger’s assistant didn’t want to be doing this as it was. Being late was not going to help your case any.

Taking a moment, you caught your breath and wiped your sweaty forehead with a clean rag. You could only hope you weren’t too disheveled. Regardless of the paint stains on your clothes, you still had to appear somewhat professional. Running in soaked with sweat and panting was not the way to do that.

You were surprised to see Viktor already in the studio. Well at home on the chaise and deeply engrossed in his book. His long legs were stretched across the cushion, one cross over the other. He didn’t look up as you shuffled passed.

“You’re late,” Viktor observed, not unkindly.

“Yeah,” you panted, “Sorry - give me a moment and I’ll be ready.”

You hurried into the side room, and barely caught his words, “Take your time.”

In the side room, there was a wall of cubies. Each about as wide as your wing span and stretched about a foot over your head. They all had a wide shelf at the top and drawer in the bottom. Some of them were filled to the brim with covered canvases, others held only a sketch pad or an easel, most of them were empty. You were grateful the academy even had a reserved space for alumni artists. Not everyone had the space or the money to have a studio. You had a small corner where you kept your easel and paints in your own apartment. The entrance to your balcony was there, so it offered the best light. Just not the best view, since it over looked one of Piltover’s side roads.

You made your way to the one with a scrap of paper reading your name that had been stapled to the wooden surface. Tossing your bag into the bottom drawer, you dragged out your sketch pad, along with the pouch that held erasers, pencils, and a sharpener. Quickly double checking that no sticky fingers had made off with your extra supplies. Double counted your rolls of paper. Made sure your spare easel and the canvas you’d be using was all accounted for. That canvas was going to need prepped soon. That mental note got tacked to the back of your mind.

“Alright!” you sighed loudly, rounding back into the main studio. “Are we ready to start?”

Viktor looked up at you then, slotting a place holder into his book. His sharp eyes didn’t miss a beat, immediately zeroing in on your non-dominate hand. Narrowing as he studied it.

“Rough day yesterday?” he asked plainly.

You glanced down at the splint bound to your hand with white cloth. It held your ring finger and pinky straight. In the back of your mind, you could still hear the sickening sound of them breaking. Hastily, you shoved your hand in the big pocket of your overalls. You tried very hard not to wince at the pain.

“Something like that,” you told him. You tried to laugh, but it came out strained.

Viktor continued to watch you, as if he were waiting for you to elaborate. It left you feeling a bit like a specimen under a microscope. When you offered nothing he opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Finally, his gaze moved elsewhere.

It didn’t keep the shadows of the Alumni Studio from being oppressive, however. They sat heavy on your shoulder. Squeezed your lungs far too tightly. Making you itch for more than the dusty light coming in the high windows.

“Would you be too terribly opposed to sitting outside today?” you asked, then gestured behind you. “There’s a door not far that takes us to one of the inner court yards. It’s nice enough today.”

“Wherever you will have me.” Viktor shrugged, bringing his gaze back to you. Then he seemed to realize just how his wording came out. Clearing his throat, his ears reddened. Quickly, he corrected, “That is, wherever you wish me to sit.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was kind of cute when he was embarrassed. You swiftly erased that thought. “This way.”

Viktor trailed after you as you lead him out the side door and into another long hall lined on one side with windows. It was quiet between you, just the clink of his cane on the floor to let you know he hadn’t run off. A chill chased from the nape of your neck down your spine.

Finally, you came across the door to the court yard. The entire thing was relatively bare. Just a large circle carved from the same white stone as the rest of the building. There were a few low benches with arms, along with a sprinkle of large basins full of shrubs and moss. A couple trees grew from well maintained raised beds. You lead Viktor to your favorite one.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a bench backed by neat bushes.

Viktor sat, then you went to the edge of the low planter wall opposite him. You were both covered by the shade of a tall tree. It was just starting to sprout lively green leaves. You flipped to a new page in the pad. Then rifled through your pouch until your found your favorite pencil.

“I thought we would figure out your pose today,” you said, tapping the end of the pencil against the paper.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “My pose?”

“Yes.” You nodded. “I want to do sketches of potential ones. It’ll help us figure out what will look best. - We also have to consider how comfortable it will be for you. I know what I’m thinking of, but did you have anything in mind?”

“I wouldn’t know -” Viktor awkwardly folded his hands in his lap.

“Try this.” You laughed a little, then moved to the edge of the wall, setting your stuff beside you. You adjusted your posture to be ramrod straight, your body set at an angle with your hands at waist height, cradling air. “Obviously you’ll be holding your book.”

Viktor tried his best to mirror your posture. Glancing at you, eyes flickering over your body. You knew it could be awkward. It was never easy posing people, it often felt too staged.

“Like this?” he asked.

You relaxed, taking a moment to check. Your mind was already doing a preliminary painting. But something wasn’t quite right. You stood, going to him.

“Almost, do you mind if I - ?”

Viktor looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head. “No, no - go right ahead.”

You nodded, then carefully covered the backs of his hands with your own palms. Applying just enough pressure with your fingers to guide him. His hands were smooth and chilled under your touch. You pulled the book a bit farther away from his chest, giving the pose some breathing room. “Hold that there. - Now this is going to feel unnatural, but I’m going to adjust your elbow. Now tilt the book itself back a little bit. We need a nice silhouette.”

You stepped away, looking him over one more time. Still just almost. You hummed, tapping a finger on your chin with the other resting on your hip. Viktor pursed his lips as you took his chin between the knuckle of your forefinger and your thumb. Guiding it to where it needed to be to follow the lines of his body.

“Now turn your hips out just a bit more,” you uttered. He followed suit without a word.

Once more, you stepped away to check composition. Perfect, except for his expression. His brows were furrowed as he stared very intensely at the pages. Without thinking, you placed your thumb between his brows. Trying to get him to relax. You’d done this before, many times, trying to get people’s expressions just right. You felt him go still under your touch, but the creased immediately went away in his surprise.

“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away. “I should’ve asked if it was fine to touch your face.”

“Don’t apologize,” Viktor muttered, glancing at your very briefly. “You simply me caught me by surprise. That is all.”

You were surprised that he was being far more cooperative today. You wondered what had changed in the last two days. Maybe Heimerdinger had said something. As long as it wasn’t about your deal, you’d be fine with whatever he had to say to get Viktor to sit until the portrait was complete. You needed this. Desperately.

“Hold this pose for a minute.”

You returned to your seat, pulling the drawing pad into your lap. You did a quick gesture drawing. Getting the lines right, carving out the silhouette with the side of your pencil. A few places needed smudged with the pad of your finger, blending until it felt right. You saw his hands begin to shake.

“Okay, you can relax,” you told him.

Viktor’s entire body slumped, then he stretched with his arms over his head. You had to admit, he was nice to look at. Long and lithe, the light carved out his features in a way you hoped you could recreate and highlighted the warm undertones in his hair. You looked back down at your sketch. You definitely hadn’t been exaggerating when you told Heimerdinger Viktor had nice features that you couldn’t wait to put on canvas. You laughed to yourself, thinking of your conversation with the professor.

“What is so funny?” Viktor asked lightly. “I most certainly hope my posing wasn’t that horrid.”

You looked up, surprised to see him bent slightly over you. Eyes on what you’d drawn. The intensity of them almost made you bashful about your work.

You shook your head. “Not you, just thinking of something I’d told Heimerdinger.”

Viktor hummed. “Nothing too awful, I hope.”

You chuckled again. “Only that I was glad you didn’t have fur.”

“Really?” Viktor asked, clearly amused.

“It took much longer to paint him because of it. He got a good laugh out of it, though.” You shrugged. “I forgot to ask - how was your day yesterday?”

Viktor straightened up, leaning on his cane. You would have to remember to sketch it. It was a nice cane, finely crafted. You wanted to make sure you got it right when you painted it.

“Eehhh…” Viktor’s eyes bounced as he searched for the right word. “Productive.”

You smiled at him. “I’m glad. I don’t want you to get too behind in your work.”

“Worry not, my partner is seeing to things in my absence.” Viktor hovered, hand readjusting on his cane. His gaze had settled on the branches over head. “I also had some time to reflect. I want to apologize for my behavior - I must not have made a good first impression.”

“It’s fine, really. I know how Heimerdinger can be. I thought he told you. I can’t really blame you for acting the way you did. So, no apology needed.” You stood, if only for something to do.

“Then let us begin anew. On the proper foot, this time.” He held out his hand. “I am Viktor, assistant to the Dean of the Academy and Hextech researcher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You found the effort endearing. You took his hand in yours, shaking it as you reintroduced yourself. “Recent University of Piltover graduate. Semi-professional in portraiture. It’s nice to make your acquaintance. I look forward to painting you, I’m very glad that you are not furry.”

Viktor gave you a real smile this time. It was nice to see. It suited him, opened up his face. Making you feel warm inside. You tried to shut that feeling down immediately. But you couldn’t help admiring the boyish charm in it.

“Now, shall we continue?” he asked.

You nodded towards the bench. “Be my guest.”

You walked him through a few more poses. A couple were an immediate ‘no.’ Either they just didn’t look natural on him, or he said it would be too difficult to maintain for long periods. By the end of it, you had settled for something simple. He would sit reclined against the back cushion, one arm resting on the arm of the lounge, the other holding his book. His legs would be crossed, with his left ankle resting on his right knee. Carefully keeping his brace from digging into his skin.

You considered this session a success.

When the clock announced three, you stood to stretch out your back. You were expecting Viktor to take his leave like a rabbit sprung from a trap. Instead, he sat and observed as you began to pack your things.

“Well, that’s the hour,” you announced. Wondering if he was waiting for a proper dismissal. “I figure I won’t keep you longer, I was the one who was late after all.”

“Actually,” started Viktor, “I find I have some spare time. I can stay another hour, if it’s needed.”

You paused. “Are you sure? You don't have to do that.”

He nodded. “Jayce can suffice another hour without me.”

“Alright then.” You couldn’t help but grin. “Since we've figured out your pose, I was wondering if it was okay to sketch your cane?”

Viktor glanced at where it laid next to him on the bench. “My cane?”

“For the painting.”

His expression was unreadable. “You want to include it?”

“Yes?” You cocked your head. “Why wouldn't I? Unless you don’t want it to be? - It’s your picture, at the end of the day. Heimerdinger is just sponsoring it. We don’t have to include anything you don’t want..”

“I -” Viktor frowned a touch, as if the idea had never occurred to him. He sighed. “That is perfectly fine.”

You sat on the ground in front of the bench. Viktor held the cane upright, turning it when you asked. You made little notes about colors, and where it was dullest from being held. All while being under his sharp gaze. You wondered what he was thinking. If he resented you at all, even though you were just hired to do a job.

“So…” Viktor cleared his throat. “Your fingers - what happened?”

Your whole body went rigid, freezing mid-sketch. You carefully avoided his eyes. Shaking your head, your forced yourself to keep drawing. “Nothing. I was clumsy. Tripped, landed on my hand wrong.”

A moment of silence, then a small hum. “At least it was not your other one.”

You muttered to the paper, “Not yet anyway.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I asked,” you stated louder, “will you tilt that to right a bit?”

Viktor obliged, though the movement was hesitant. You studied the cane intently. Trying not to meet his eyes. He had to know you were lying. That excuse hadn’t even sounded convincing to you. A few more minutes ticked by in silence.

“Tell me,” Viktor started again, “do you have a preference for coffee or tea?”

That one did make you look up. He ran a finger along the rail of the stone bench, watching you from the corner of his eye. The amber of them burning in a patch of sun. You told him your preference, to which he hummed. You searched your mind for something to ask him.

“So,” you started, “what all do you do for Heimerdinger?”

“Many things.” Viktor shrugged, as if it was the most uninteresting question in the world. “I do anything he asks.”

“I’ve heard you and Jayce Talis are the founders of Hextech. All the revolutionary stuff that’s appeared the last few years has been because of you. Is that true?”

Slowly, Viktor nodded. “He took the first steps, then together we built.”

“Then it’s no wonder that Heimerdinger wants your portrait done,” you started, a bit awestruck. “It’s not everyday this sort of thing comes along. - We’ll have to include something of it in your painting. Make sure everyone knows your face, too.”

“Right.” Viktor shifted in his seat. You pretended not to notice the pink blotches staining his neck. “Ah - I’m not well versed in art. Out of curiosity, how long does this sort of thing usually take? Professor Heimerdinger said this could take months, but surely not…”

“It could - it took me most of the four year graduate program to paint Professor Heimerdinger. The third and fourth year especially since I had to make a presentation to go along with it, but it was also hard to meet with him. Yours shouldn’t take nearly as long,” you told him. Your eyes traced the curves on the cane’s handle, your hand trying to follow along on the paper. “If I can focus, a painting this size takes…80 or 90 hours to complete. That isn’t including color matching and sketching, which could take it well over 100 -”

“100 hours?” Viktor repeated, jaw tight. Any openness that was once there now gone. “That is nearly four months of my time. More if one of us is not available!”

You nodded slowly. “I can try and speed up the process, but there’s no promises with this sort of thing. Some of it, I may not even need you there for.”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, sighing. “No, no - it’s fine. I will just have to accommodate accordingly.”

Your name echoed across the courtyard then and you both flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught sight of Fallon. How had she even seen you? That ever present smile was on her face. She waved, curls bouncing as she jogged over to you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she laughed. Her eyes turned to Viktor. “Who’s your friend?”

“Not really a friend, more of an acquiantance. This is Viktor, the Dean’s assistant,” you said, “I’ve been commissioned. Sorry - Viktor, this is my good friend Fallon. She’s in her second year of her undergraduate studies.”

He nodded at her. “A pleasure.”

Fallon gasped, gripping your bad hand by the wrist. You hissed softly at the pain, grimacing. She turned your hand palm up, then back over.

“What did you do?” In a second the sweet Fallon was gone, a dark cloud sweeping over her features. She asked in a low voice, “He didn’t do this, did he?”

You tried to pull your wrist away, laughing awkwardly. “No, no, no - nothing like that. This is my own fault. Viktor is…sweet. He’s been very patient with me today.”

Just as quick as it appeared, the storm cloud passed and Fallon was back to her grinning self. Her gold skin practically glowed under the late afternoon sun. The light threading through her dark curls to highlight the red understones. Her eyes danced briefly over your face, then narrowed.

“I know how you can get,” Fallon scolded, releasing your wrist. “Have you eaten today?”

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly. She put her hands on her hips, foot tapping against the stones. You gave her sheepish smile. “I got in late then was up early. I had some work to do.”

Fallon flicked your forehead. “How many times have I told you -”

“Yes, I know - take care of myself.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve just…been busy.”

“You are never too busy to care for yourself. - I’ve decided I’m taking you to lunch.” Fallon pulled your arm, hauling you off the ground. Small but mighty, it seemed. “C’mon -”

“But I have to -” you argued, barely keeping a grip on your pencil and pad as you stumbled after her. “Uh - I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then, Viktor!”

You glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you. He almost looked like he was trying not to laugh. That sent a wave of embarrassment through you. You had the strongest urge to stick out your tongue or flick him off. But you didn’t. Just allowing yourself to be pulled out the door, barely being able to waylay her long enough to put your things away and grab your bag.

Fallon found a resturant close to academy for you both. The entire time she gave you a scathing review of your poor habits. But you knew it came from a place of concern. You’d done the same for her a few times. Especially around midterms and finals.

“So, anyway,” Fallon said, the stern tone fading. A mischievous grin took over. “That guy, huh?”

“Viktor?” you asked, taking a bite of your food. “What about him?”

“He was a cutie, wasn’t he?”

“Okay, first off - he’s way too old for you.” You rolled your eyes. Fallon had been unstoppable since she started at the academy. Constantly chasing one guy after the next. “You’re not even twenty yet. He’s like, 26 or 27.”

“As if that would stop me. Besides - I wasn’t thinking about me…” Fallon chuckled. Then licked her finger and rubbed at your cheek. “Hey, did anyone tell you there’s graphite on your face.”

You looked down at where your shiney, grey fingers held your fork. Then scrubbed at your cheek with your shirt sleeve. “Secondly, I haven’t really thought about it.”

She hummed, eyebrows raising briefly. “Liar.”

“I’m not!” You truly hadn’t, whether she believed you or not. “His has some nice lines. His eyes are a nice color -”

“So you’ve just been looking at him like an art project.”

“I guess, yeah.” Your face felt hot, so you swallowed down some ice water. “I can objectively observe someone’s beauty, ya know. You literally have to take an entire class about it.”

“All I’m saying,” Fallon pushed, “is that maybe you should stop looking at him as just a subject.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “You’re trying to set me up, and you don’t even know him.”

She held her palms up. “There’s more to life than work, that’s all I’m saying. And if you just happen to be able to be in the presence of a cute guy who’s stuck with you until the commission is done…”

“I don't want to make our sessions weird. Also, I already told you that I’m not really looking to date anyone right now.”

Fallon pouted. “But why?! There are so many cuties on campus. You’re just going to ignore them all?”

“I -” There were so many things you wanted to tell her. So many things that were safer if you didn’t. You just wished you at least one person to confide in. “I’m just not looking. I’m so busy with commissions and making sure that I can pay rent. It just wouldn’t be fair to try and balance a relationship. I wouldn’t be able to dedicate enough time. It would end badly. So it’s better off that I don’t.”

Fallon’s gold eyes watched you. They reminded you of Viktor’s a bit, but hers were missing the honey tones. Either way, they didn’t seem to miss a thing.

“You’re hiding something,” she said plainly, “what is it?”

You shook your head. “I’m not involving anyone in my life drama.”

“I’m your friend, you can trust me. I want to help if I can.”

“I know exactly the kind of help I need. - Trust me, I’m already dealing with it.”

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Fallon reached over and touched your arm, staring at you with nauseatingly intense sincerity.

Finally, you sighed, leaned forward in the booth - and whispered to her the whole dirty truth.

____________________________________________________

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