#also guys I need you to know that my definition of press secretary is that vox is just Lucifer’s anger translator but instead of anger

[grayintogreen]

I haven’t decided if Lucifer still owns Vox’s contract or if he broke it during that six month gap at the end of LTEDMD after he agreed to the press secretary thing but somehow it’s so much funnier if no one is ever really sure if that conversation actually happened because Vox is just happy to have a real job again and Lucifer can’t remember shit.

[space-blue]

Crime Boss Silco and bodyguard Vander? 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Sorry for the delayed reply! For those asks.

Someone (maybe Cal?) was asking for some good age difference in which Vander is the younger one. And it was late and quiet on the server... I started rambling... And no one stopped me.

In it, Vander was a lost 24 yo. He's a hobbyist boxer who graduated as a criminal psychologist, and is currently down in the dumps. He's been struggling to find a job, and then one night at a party he broke a guy's jaw to defend someone. That guy had enough power to ruin his reputation, and now Vander is pretty sure his job search is cooked.

He still helps people in need be though, and that's how he meets Silco. Giving him a hand and getting dragged to a diner for coffee and pancakes.

Silco is sleek, dressed bespoke, and quietly curious about Vander. He teases his story out of him, and eventually offers him a job as a sort of secretary mixed with body guard. When the $$ comes around and Silco drops the numbers, Vander rushes to agree... But Silco is like "Wait. That's what my last guy was paid, but that's because he'd also spend the night with me when needed".

And though he offers Vander less if he doesn't want to, you know... Vander was definitely *interested*. He's very aware he's being recruited in the damned mafia, but Silco is mesmerizing, and the job search is harrowing... So he accepts. Silco takes him to Zaun tower, top floor, and it finally clicks that this guy who loves pirate metaphors is the Eye of Zaun, the famous "industrialist" (and definitely not a mafioso..).

The story then went to the "second part" of the interview... And ended with some shower sex. I was proud enough to have written some (vanilla) smut, that I copied everything in a document to "clean up later" and never got around to do it... Because the story is told, and my brain doesn't care anymore. So it's been squatting on my drive taking the dust! I'll send you the link to the whole thing on discord. Here's a snippet :

Vander's last flickers of doubt melt away as he squeezes in the passenger seat of a sleek jaguar, then out in a private parking lot, then up an elevator, up, up to the top floor of the Zaun tower.

'You… Do you own…?'

'Zaun industries. Yes, that's me.'

Vander walks up to a window, gazing down on the city. Far below people skitter like ants, sad and aimless, just as he'd been. It's already getting to his head, this new reality, that the infamous Eye of Zaun offered him the shadiest job Vander's ever heard of (after pancake and cappuccino, mind).

There's a clink of glasses, a ruffle of clothes, the soft thump of shoes coming off, and a sigh. Vander turns to Silco, curious, and sees him approaching with a glass of amber liquid.

'I feel stupid,' Vander admits, accepting the glass and taking an idle sniff (it's whisky, peaty and smoky, and quite early for it). 'You're about the only celebrity who wears an eye-patch'

Silco smiles and looks pleased with himself. 'I try my best to stick to the shadows. The press is always so full of questions.'

'And those are very unpopular with pirates,' Vander says with a nod, still wildly entertained by the metaphor.

Silco has been called a corsair once, on live television If you go on youtube, type in "Silco destroys journalist", you can watch the whole thing. Vander's never really cared. He's been too busy with his life to mind crooked industrialists with a history of mafia ties and industrial espionage. His hobbies are cooking and boxing, not watching take down videos. Still. Every other year Silco would appear on television, Zaun would be on the news for a while… Everybody knows.

Vander frowns at his glass. 'Whisky?' he asks, no doubt showcasing his sharp intelligence.

'You're fine, it's just past midday,' Silco says with a glance at his watch. 'It's a Laphroaig, if that's your concern.'

'No, I mean… We just had coffee.'

Silco blinks up at him, and there's something that fleets over his features. Vulnerability? Hesitation? A lapse in control and good humour, at least.

Then his mouth hardens in a forced smile. 'Most people wouldn't fuck me sober, Vander.'

Vander is so taken by surprise, it's a miracle Silco can't hear the scratchy noise of his mind's gears coming to an abrupt halt.

'I- what?' He's the one doing the blinking now. 'You paid you last guy ten grands to get drunk to fuck you? Sir? Boss? What do I call you?'

The smile returns, softer now, tentative. 'No, no. Marcus was game for everything. But I guess there's a reason I'd have him in the first place, don't you think?'

Vander frowns, not thinking anything at all. 'I don't get it. You're…' He pushes his glass back into Silco's hand. 'You're not saying there aren't people out there who-'

Silco laughs and cuts him off. 'You're thinking like a poor college student, no offense. I also don't enjoy bedding people who only see me as a catch—political, financial, or otherwise.'

And of course then there's the eyepatch, and the fact that about everyone who's turned on by heavily scared men probably would recognise him right away, instead of drinking coffee with him while talking shit about the bakery on Alm st.

Vander groans. 'All right, so you figured this is your best solution. Still. I'd like to do this… quite sober.'

Silco shrugs, acting nonchalant, but Vander knows better.

'As you please.' He turns around to put the whisky away.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 298

The Six Thatchers

“The Six Thatchers”

Plot Description: Sherlock takes on the case of finding out who is going around and smashing six unique head statues of late Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher.

And here we are…the worst season of this show…it’s so mean that they put an ad for season 10 of doctor who on this dvd

Sherlock having a twitter account…sounds nightmarish

Ohhhh, the aquarium imagery reminds me this is when Mary dies

So Sherlock’s gonna just wait out and solve crimes while “Moriarty” makes his “posthumous” next move

Omg stop texting or whatever at your goddaughter’s christening, I don’t care if you don’t believe. It’s just rude

You can’t make demands of babies, Sherlock. I can barely make them of my cat.

Ok this case is pretty interesting…a young man who is supposed to be in Tibet is somehow found dead in his car after a drunk driver hits it and it ignites…however, that body was dead for a week already and the kid’s dad had talked to him on the phone more recently than that (my money’s on prerecorded conversation bits, maybe??)

How’s Sherlock gonna make comments about how John and Mary will be great parents because they did a great job dealing with him but then not understand the jokes John and Lestrade are making comparing him to the baby?

I’d start dissociating if I was in a home with a Thatcher shrine, too

Oh. Oh that’s tragic. The kid tried to surprise his dad for the dad’s birthday, suffered a medical emergency, died in the car in a costume meant to mimic the car seat, and because no one had any cause to go to the car, he stayed there til the drunk driver hit it

Mycroft reacting to seeing a picture of the Watsons’ baby is exaggerated but relatable. He’s also not good with people, but the difference is I at least sometimes strive to be

Is that Janine?? No. Just another detective who needed Sherlock’s help. Didn’t even look THAT much like her

How did the dog get in trouble with the US? So much so that charges were pressed and subsequently dropped?

(Megumi does not like this show…but considering she’s only seen part of one episode from season 4, who could blame her?)

Ok this case is no longer interesting…I take it back. Mary’s thumb drive was in the last of the thatcher busts, even though she said she destroyed it, all the dark secrets from her past

I don’t…maybe he doesn’t want to kill her but he knows someone DOES and THAT is why he said Mary is a dead woman walking (he being the guy Sherlock fought who was in an assassin team or whatever with Mary)

She drugged Sherlock? Come on…

Why does Mycroft’s office look so stupid? He’s better than this

There’s something distasteful about Mary’s cover on this plane…why is she drawing so much attention to herself??? Oh, she switched places with the flight attendant.

What ruins this is I know Sherlock and John will find her, and the way she gets caught by them will probably be really simple and obvious

YUP! He lojacked the memory stick…and it was John’s idea.

The number of lies she’s living is just astounding. I don’t know how john puts up with it…

Oh no. That guy definitely wants her dead. Being tortured got six years will do that to ya

Trying to remember if the women from the bus is Sherlock’s sister….that seemed….not random. It definitely is. She signed the number she gave John “E”.

John, I know your marriage has kind of always been in shambles but maybe cheating isn’t the answer

I can’t believe you’re texting Sherlock’s sister while your wife takes care of your daughter

I forgot it was Lady Smallwood’s secretary who betrayed Mary’s assassin team

Truly, I probably would have just shot Sherlock if he read me like that. Well, she tried…but Mary got in the way

This should be more emotional than it is. Even John’s sounds of anguish are not convincing. Sounds more like he’s having trouble shitting than mourning his wife

John Watson stop losing people in even numbered seasons challenge

Well, at least he went back to therapy……….I mean, he’s physically there, at least…I guess—Oh, it’s Sherlock, not John. Feels like a not so good idea that they both have/had the same therapist

Oof. That’s gotta sting. John would rather have ANYONE but Sherlock help him now that Mary is gone?

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[sunflowergyeomie]

can you handle it?

sypnosis: jeonghan is a real pain in the ass, we all know that. he always seems to get you to do things you never agreed on doing, you try not to fall for them though. what if one day you accidentally fall into his trap and give in, without knowing at all?

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gn!reader (vagina bearing)

genre: established relationship, fashion design student!au, architect!au, smut (18+ only)

word count: 2.9k

warnings: profanity, m!dom, degradation, lots of cum play, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, pet names, size kink?? if you squint

a/n: bcos the irl girl version of jeonghan (aka my devil angel twin) @shuajeong told me "there aren't any fics of jeonghan lately", thus ✨this is written purely for you and your pain 😘 i have to say though, this isn't my best work :( i kept going back and forth and i rewrote and changed things at least three times so 😖😖 (i'm lowkey done with it so i'm sorry i tried, i really did) please forgive me.

Challenge?

Oh, it’s a challenge, alright.

Annoyed is what it is, lips pressed tightly together as you sink in the indescribable feeling. That’s what was currently happening seeing how there is a huge load of cum in your panties – an ignorant aftermath of your quickie with Jeonghan this morning before he drove you to class.

He even had the nerve to question how long you could stay like that for the entire day. You took that as him asking for a challenge and having been with you for a while now, Jeonghan knew you were never one to back down from them. Having basked in the afterglow of sex sure made you think anything was possible – or more accurately speaking his dick just made you dumb.

Now that it’s almost noon, you’re absolutely starting to regret the choice you’ve made, especially when you’re sitting halfway through your second lecture for the day, simply feeling that load threatening to spill out from the cotton panel, onto your inner thighs and slowly ooze down your legs.

Multiple calls of your name put a halt to your thoughts. A hand waves across your face while your eyes focus and refocus as the silhouettes come into sight. Your friends, Mingyu and Minghao are both staring at you, confusion etched across their faces, anticipating an answer from a question one of them probably asked. But in all honesty, you couldn’t recall the subject matter, nor did you give a shit about their issues because your main concern at this time is to get the hell out of there. “Oh, huh? Oh yes, sorry, yes, I’ll absolutely do that.”

A little laugh escapes from Mingyu’s lips while Minghao frowns. “I said.. What are you thinking about?” Mingyu asks, “You have a weird look on your face.”

“Are you not feeling well?” Minghao chimes in. “We can take n-“

“I’m fine, guys. Just a little tired,” You brush off, not wanting to go too deep into whatever you were currently feeling. It’s not that the guys weren’t close to you. In fact, they grew to be one of the closest ever since freshman year when all three of you showed up in the same pattern drafting class, wary looks on everybody’s faces in a new environment. Since the fashion department itself is small with only a few hundred students enrolled, it also meant that classes were taken with familiar faces, rarely is there a fashion student you haven’t seen before. Not to mention you were always being grouped in numerous projects and that’s how the three of you came to be. Both of them knew of your relationship with Jeonghan, of course, but there’s just some things that are better off left unsaid even if they are your best friends.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the both of them stealing glances at you every now and then. Even though they didn’t buy your excuse, Mingyu and Minghao knew better than not to bug you about it so throughout the whole three-hour lecture, you could just sense their concern emanating off their bodies. Adding on to your growing anxiety, making you more on edge, terrified that at any moment they would catch a glimpse of whatever dirty secret you were holding in – quite literally. Pulling out your phone, you quickly sent a text.

[12:03 PM]

you: I can’t take this anymore.

hannie: what’s wrong, princess?

You groaned, exasperation coating your breath. Was he playing dumb?

you: you know what I mean, han.

hannie: and what about it?

hannie: if I recall correctly, weren’t you the one who practically begged me to cum inside of you? Was just doing what you asked me to, princess :)

Scoffing in disbelief, you ignore his message, tossing the device straight into your bag, now furious at yourself for agreeing to it.

Stupid dick.

You weren’t even that horny this morning.

The cement walkways on campus greet the three of you as you step through the warm breeze. The sun shining through every leaf on the tall oak trees above you signal the firsts of many beautiful days now that summer is just around the corner. The bright weather is a big contrast to your dampening mood as your feet slowly drag along the blocks, leaving a gap between you and your friends while you try to keep up. You weren’t too keen on walking too fast right now. One wrong shift and you could be at risk of having Jeonghan’s gooey, semi-translucent, and not-so-warm release pooling down from underneath your mound. The two paid no attention to you though, they’re happily chatting about lunch options and the next possible location for studying afterwards. Not that you were going to join them anyways, not until you get the mess in between your legs situated.

“How about donkkaseu?” Mingyu turns around to ask, head whipping back mid-sentence to look at you, only to turn around and see that you’re already gone. His head turns left and right, trying to find you in the crowd of students, squinting his eyes for even a glimpse of your backpack but you’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where’d she go?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Minghao gives him a pointed look. “Jeonghan.” He says bluntly.

Jeonghan works downtown, a full hour away from your university. He was a busy man, well-equipped with knowledge and never failed to take pride in his work, no matter what it was. Your boyfriend was a well-wanted individual – not only with people who desperately wanted to be in his inner circle but also in his field of work with the numerous clients fighting for a slot in his schedule. Jeonghan has never-ending project proposals, spending most of his hours reviewing alterations and redevelopments on his building designs – a perfectionist, you often say or an obsession as others might call it. Knowing how serious his job was to him, you made sure not to meddle in with his profession, seeing how much it irritated him whenever he couldn’t concentrate, but this time was different – and you couldn’t hold yourself back from making the journey. You bow as you greet the secretary at the front desk. She takes one look up from her screen and already knows who you’re here for, immediately telling you of your boyfriend’s whereabouts while you nod back in thankfulness.

Pushing the heavy doors to Jeonghan’s office, the first thing you notice were his eyebrows deeply furrowed upon his face, a definite telltale to the attentiveness of the task in front of him. A few coworkers were surrounding him, each hovered over what seemed to be like another one of his drawing plans. At the click of the doorknob, Jeonghan’s head perked up when he saw you enter. A smile threatens to pull at his lips, but he bites them to prevent the joy from appearing. He’s been waiting for you all day. Having expected you to cave in earlier so he could have an excuse to take a long break. The current deal he was working on was getting to his head even though he’s gone over it a couple times already. He just needs a reset, a breather of some sort, … a release. Jeonghan fakes innocence however when he asks why you’re here. Simultaneously, his brain has already got his fingers wrapped around the string – pulling once, twice, three times, officially starting the internal mischievousness in him. A devious idea accelerating right before your very own eyes.

You furiously start making your way towards him, hair flying in all directions, nostrils flared in annoyance, your cheeks flamed red from built-up anger since the early morning you got to school, and the wrinkle between your eyebrows. You were a hot-tempered mess, you knew that but god, all he could think about was how beautiful you look. The way your eyes are rounded with the curvature of your nose bridge, adding on to the natural tint to your soft lips. Your lips that pout ever so slightly whenever you want something, your lips that taste like a mixture of yourself and that artificial strawberry-flavoured chapstick you apply every morning, your lips he so badly wants to feel against his own.

Your voice cuts through, interrupting his trance. “Excuse me, can I speak to you privately for one second?”

“Of course.” Jeonghan grins, dropping the pen as his hands start pushing his body up from the plush chair, quickly dismissing his staff with a wave of the hand. They take a hint as one by one, each of them starts leaving. He stands up, arms already going around your waist to pull you close, “Hi baby, how was your day?” He asks, head tilting as his hands are already reaching up to run his fingers through your hair.

You open your mouth to spew words, anger bubbling in letters as they boil up to the back of your throat but all of which dies down when the fire is turned off. Blocked off after the door is shut behind the last person when his demeanour takes a turn and switches a whole 180 degrees. His plan finally comes into action as his acting skills gear up. Licking his lips, his hands drop as he takes a step closer to you, hovering over your tiny figure. He’s finally got you where he wanted you in the first place. His eyes peer down from the lenses of his wired glasses, “Don’t you know better than not to interrupt me while I’m working?” He pauses. “What do you think my staff will think if you’re here for too long?” The back of his fingers gently trails down your face, almost feather-like as you try to press your face against his palm, leaning more into his touch.

“Guess you couldn’t keep it in, huh? I always knew you were a little slut.” Jeonghan tsked, “Was my cock not enough that you needed a second filling? It’s only been a few hours, darling.”

He starts walking back to his desk, hands going into his pockets as he leans against the edge. It shouldn’t have intimidated you, the way his eyes bore into yours but you gulped anyways, a feeling of excitement stirring in your lower abdomen as you clenched around nothing. You opened your mouth to retaliate, only for it to be shaped like what seems like a silent ‘o’. One of his eyebrows raise, a silent gesture for you to come.

Out of habit, your legs start moving obediently on their own until they reach the fronts of Jeonghan’s dress shoes. Tracing the outline of his long, toned legs hidden underneath the carob brown material of his trousers, you couldn’t help catching onto the small details of the garment. The modern leg-lines seamed in to elongate his legs, waistband wrapped around his torso showcasing his slim but strong build, the button with its holes as imaginary eyes and a crossed thread disguised as lips silently screaming ‘open me, open me!’.

He grabs your jaw, forcing you to tear your eyes away from his lower half to look at him. “I thought you came here to say something, but I can practically see the drool coming out of your pretty little mouth, staring at my cock.”

“I-“, He spins you around, positions changed now that you’re the one leaning against the desk. Jeonghan dives his head to capture your lips with his. You’re taken by surprise as a gasp escapes from your mouth while he takes that as a chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping past your bottom lip; full of need and desire, desperate to let out his frustrations. All your effort is focused on keeping up, molding your mouths together. Your anger is now replaced with lust. His hands are moving down to grip your ass.

Your breath hitches when his lips start trailing down your jaw, gently nibbling the soft skin on your neck before travelling down the valley of your breasts. He doesn’t bother trying to take off your top, opting to unbutton the first few, just enough to expose your lacy bra. Slipping underneath one cup to carefully knead your honey soft skin before latching his mouth onto your nipple, sucking gently but firmly. You whine as he hoists you up and places you on the surface, his face never detaching from your soft and full chest as he quickly pulls your pants off, leaving you in just your soaked panties.

“Maybe it was a good idea to leave my cum in you,” Jeonghan’s fingers hook onto the waistband. He smirks before pulling them down completely, stopping mid-thigh. “Easier to prepare.”

A trail of your slick follows as his digits spread your pussy, using his middle finger to slowly drag up your wet slit. His other hand is gripping your thigh when he reaches down in between, scooping the leftover cum from the previous session and forcing it back into your pussy. You watch with wide eyes only to have them roll back completely when he finishes by stuffing them all the way into you, resulting in a loud moan.

“P-please”

Jeonghan chuckles, satisfied by your reaction. He had you beckoning at his every move yet you were sure the satisfaction still wasn’t enough for him, not just yet. He pulls his fingers out to strip himself of his own pants, popping his member out. The hand with the fingers that were just inside of you is now rubbing all over his cock, using the little beads of precum along with a bit of your slick to pump himself.

Jeonghan’s cock is pretty, like the boy himself. He’s not too big or too small but he knows his angles and he knows how to use them right. Every time the two of you get intimate, which is quite often, his thrusts are sharp, clean and reach to the most inner parts of you – something that leaves soreness inside of you for days. But that doesn’t seem to matter whenever the two of you are having hot and steamy sex five days out of the seven weekly.

“You better stay fucking quiet.”

One hand is gripping your waist for extra support while the other is slowly guiding his length into you. The growl in his voice sends another wave of arousal between your legs, the wetness starting to spill and gather down your thighs. His eyes diverted down to pay attention to the way his length was disappearing inside of you. Each stroke covering his manhood with even more of your juices.

“F-ffuck, baby.” He curses under his breath. “You’re still so tight.”

His voice was breathy, almost like a whine before he picks up his speed, splitting your folds with a sloppy rhythm, expecting to chase both your highs before his coworkers come barging back in. Although the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position arouses him, Jeonghan couldn’t risk letting anyone seeing you in your most vulnerable state. Not when you have all the right curves, exclusive only for his viewing.

At some point, his hands start pulling you into him to meet his every thrust, your tits bouncing as you start feeling the delicious new angle he’s ruining you from. The tip of his cock rubbing against your cervix with every stretch. The familiar feeling of tension starts to build as your eyes squeeze tighter, your orgasm is approaching faster and faster. You’ve never wanted to scream his name out loud so badly when he slams once, no, twice into you, releasing the coil sending intensifying waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. Your tight heat clenching and unclenching around him causing Jeonghan to groan, “Shit.”

“Cum in me.” You insisted weakly. He gives in as he presses himself balls deep, cock twitching as he unloads inside of you, cum shooting in spurts coating your walls in white. The groan emerging from the back of his throat muffled as he quickly smashes his lips onto yours to conceal it. Your muscles move on your own, hiding your own whimper as your lips move together in unison. His body slumps over yours while he rests his head against your shoulder, pressing a light kiss as a way to say thank you.

In the intimacy of the moment, your arms are thrown around his broad shoulders, subconsciously pulling him closer as the two of you try to catch your breaths. When he lifts his head up, his doll eyes are already staring into your glossy ones. A tender smile spreading across his face, pecking your lips one more time before he slowly pulls out. Straight away, the emptiness is evident as his warmth disappears, your hole gaping while he looks down to appreciate the work done on your ruined pussy.

You feel your panties being pulled back up, now snug on your hips as he lets go of the elastic waistband to hear it snap back on your skin.

“Guess you have two loads to keep in now.” A devilish look covering every inch of his handsome face.

“Jeonghan!” you lunged at him. He cackles maniacally, successfully dodging while you attempt to jump on his back. The blood in your veins starts boiling again, both hands reaching up to cover your face when you realize your mistake for the second time today.

Jeonghan’s dick really did make you dumb.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 332: This Fight Has Actually Taken More Than a Month

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “please enjoy these three whole pages of exposition about how New Order works. Spoiler alert, it all boils down to how much the user understands the nebulous inner vibes of their target, so I hope you’re all taking notes for the inevitable Final Battle Shenanigans to come.” Tomura was all “well I sure can’t wait until I get my hands on this quirk, wonder how many more chapters it’s going to be.” S&S was all “nothing else we’ve tried has worked so why don’t you Air Force guys ask the Secretary of Defense to send a few missiles our way, and in the meantime I’ll hold Shigaraki off by punching him a bunch with my giant LoK Season Two Homage.” Fandom was all, “[checking to make sure that they’re still reading the correct manga which somehow they are].” Btw how much longer are we going to let Horikoshi keep pretending that he’s never heard of A:TLA lol.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “I’m just gonna draw the most ludicrous attack I can think of” and has Star’s giant sky avatar make the hypersonic missiles do a couple of loop-de-loops for absolutely no reason before detonating with a giant FSHAM. Everyone is all, “I WONDER IF IT WORKED.” Tomura is all, “IT DID NOT WORK.” Star is all, “WELL I’M ALL OUT OF IDEAS, GUESS I’LL JUST STAND HERE AND FUCKING DIE THEN.” Weekly Shounen Jump is all, “WHAT IS THE OUTCOME OF THIS DECISIVE BATTLE!?” like GEE I WONDER. You’ve put us all on the spot here, WSJ. Idk, what do you guys think.

oh goody a Star and Stripe flashback, this is definitely the order Horikoshi should have done this in. who says we have to put foreshadowing before the actual thing. aftershadowing, that’s what all the cool kids are doing now

so she’s hanging out with a bunch of muscle bros in tank tops in the military or whatever I guess, and being all frustrated that her quirk doesn’t always do everything she wants it to do. though to be fair, if there was ever a quirk that desperately needed an instruction manual it’s gotta be this one

wowwww lol

“isn’t it such a shame that our sexist society is filled with men who are constantly demeaning women and refusing to acknowledge them as equals” -- man who is already well on his way to pseudo-fridging his third female character in the span of a year, in his story which already features a cast that is 75% male, which runs in a periodical which has never hired a single female editor in its entire history

-- actually you know what, just in case this winds up being one of Those Chapters, I should probably press pause for a sec and post a few Clarification Bullet Points just so that we’re all on the same page before we continue here lol. so here goes:

BnHA is kinda sexist you guys

no, it’s not as sexist as it could be

no, I’m not saying Horikoshi is a bad person, or the most sexist person who ever lived, or even in the top 100 (maybe even 1000) of sexist manga creators. BnHA is actually very progressive for a shounen manga in a lot of ways. he’s definitely trying

that being said, all the A’s for effort in the world won’t change the fact that WSJ is a boys’ club, and shounen manga’s idea of progress is “look at that, our female characters don’t all have to wear high heels all the time, and sometimes we even give them plotlines about stuff other than doing the boys’ laundry!!” I mean, pretty much anyone is going to look like a paragon of feminism when the bar is that low lol

tl;dr, I appreciate what we get, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall on my knees in unreserved gratitude just because Horikoshi isn’t out here zooming up his female characters’ skirts every three panels. and this also happens to be the one and only thing about the series that I often find it very difficult to lighten up about, because of how it reflects circumstances in the real world. so yeah. apologies in advance, but if you continue to read this recap I can’t promise you won’t be subjected to occasional random chill-less remarks about gender equality or the lack thereof. it may happen at any time without warning! I, a person who is reading this manga on the internet for free, do in fact have the audacity to complain about some of the things that happen in said manga from time to time! and then I keep on reading the series anyway even though I only enjoy 95% of it and not the entire 100%! it’s some straight up r/choosing beggars shit! I might even choose to make a couple of critical remarks that aren’t watered down by jokes! right here on my own blog where anyone can read them!! it’s a lawless jungle out here!!

anyways lol so I think that’s about as clear of a disclaimer as I can possibly make. don’t say I didn’t warn you. now back to our regularly scheduled programming

anyway so after all of that ranting, these military (Air Force?) bros are actually being pretty chill though

(ETA: in hindsight, writing this rant seems to have used up most of my fucks lol. the rest of this chapter wasn’t really that bad so I managed to coexist with it peacefully pretty much right up until the last page, and even then it was mostly just eye-rolling and sighing. the type of situation “I’m not mad, just disappointed” was coined for, I guess.)

and you know what I like about this, is that Horikoshi actually took the time here to ask himself how S&S’s journey of becoming the number one hero might differ from All Might’s journey, and what kind of challenges and pushback she might come up against which a male character in the same situation would likely not encounter. this wasn’t necessarily the most graceful way of bringing that up, but I do appreciate that he was being thoughtful enough to consider any of this stuff at all, let alone actually work it into the character’s backstory

THAT BEING SAID, while I do appreciate what Horikoshi seemed to be going for here, I would have preferred if the message was more of a “you’re just as strong as All Might, your quirks just work in different ways” thing as opposed to “don’t sweat it if you’re not as strong as All Might, it’s not you it’s the quirk”

to be clear, it’s not that I have any kind of problem with All Might being the undisputed Strongest Character In The Series; it’s just that I still can’t really see why he’s considered to be stronger than S&S. it’s like they randomly decided that physical strength was the only metric actually worth considering. like sure, S&S may be having trouble trying to catch up to All Might in terms of bench presses, but All Might is probably having trouble catching up to her in terms of Turning Himself Into A Massive Laser-Wielding Sky Kaiju so I would think it evens out lol

anyway so Horikoshi is just not doing a good job of selling me on this Super Strength > Magic Reality Bullshit thing. and for that matter, it’s in his interests not to convince us, because aren’t we supposed to be worried that Tomura will be unstoppable once he gets his hands on this?

but these are all questions I’ll have to ponder more at some later date, because the flashback scene has now ended and we are cutting back to everyone’s favorite hypersonic missiles

so the missiles are almost there now, and Star says she’s going to have to release the laser rule in order to set up a new rule for the missiles. man, what? so you knew all along that the missiles on their own obviously wouldn’t be enough to stop him?

okay so real talk, how is this going to be any more effective than the lasers were. because regardless of whether it’s a laser or an explosive, at the end of the day we’re still dealing with thermal energy here right? meaning that you’re still going to run into the exact same problem you had with the lasers, and with Endeavor’s Prominence Burn, which is that FIRE IS NOBODY’S FUCKING WEAKNESS my god why doesn’t anyone in this manga listen to me. I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU

so now there’s an entire page of Tomura just chilling in the midst of the laser bombardment like it’s an afternoon at the sauna, and wondering what these explosive-vibes-giving things are that he can feel approaching. probably explosives, Tomura

fffffldkjl ���LOL NO WAY, THIS WOMAN REALLY LAUNCHED A BUNCH OF HYPERSONIC MISSILES?” I know, right??

and there’s another page of Star giving a countdown to whatever bullshit she’s about to do, and then the bottom panel is showing the missiles breaking through her giant sky titan’s hand, which is some hella trypophobic shit that absolutely nobody in the world asked for

hey, Horikoshi? file this one along with the centipedes and the mushrooms. let’s not have any more of this ever again please and thank you

lol what the actual fuck

? ???? ??

LOL, WHAT

?????????????

is anyone going to explain to me how this makes the attack more powerful, or should I just keep reading. “keep reading makeste, duh” yeah you’re probably right, I keep going off on random tangents for no reason. I really need to focus up here

huh

well, you guys. so it appears that Star’s trump card was [checks notes] randomly having the missiles spiral around a couple of times for extra fanciness before they finally hit him. you know, for that extra spiraling power boost. the coveted spiral bonus

A WHOLE TWO PAGES OF EXPLOSIONS WOOOOOOOOOOOOO

FINALLY, SOMETHING BOTH AMERICAN SUPERHEROES AND SHOUNEN MANGA HEROES CAN AGREE ON. WHEN IN DOUBT JUST MAKE THING GO BOOM

WOW ANOTHER PAGE OF THE EXPLOSION. JUST IN CASE THE PREVIOUS TWO PAGES WEREN’T ENOUGH

I HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, MISTER SIDE CHARACTER GUY ASKING ABOUT TOMURA’S STATUS WHILE YOU WAIT FOR THE DUST TO SETTLE FROM YOUR MASSIVE EXPLOSION ATTACK, BUT THE ANSWER ISN’T GOING TO BE ANYTHING THAT YOU’LL PARTICULARLY LIKE. I JUST GOTTA WARN YOU NOW. YOU MIGHT NEED TO SIT DOWN FOR THIS ONE

MAN WHY ARE YOU ALL TRYING SO HARD TO PRETEND LIKE THERE IS ANY TENSION HERE LOL

“WELP, THAT WAS IT. THAT WAS THE MOST POWERFUL ATTACK WE HAD. I WONDER IF IT WORKED. LET’S ZOOM IN ON THIS MASSIVE CRATER THAT WE JUST BLASTED IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN. I GOT A GOOD FEELING ABOUT THIS ONE YOU GUYS” yep. for sure, Star

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH hahahaha oh no

“NOPE NEVER MIND. GOOD FEELING’S GONE”

OH MY GOD I ACTUALLY LOLED FOR REAL

her faceeeee oh no. oh, Star, we’re really in it now

lol this motherfucker used Decay to burrow underground to hide from the explosion. what a power move. “if I was even a millisecond late it would have been a fatal wound” lmao you asshole. “good game,” Tomura says placatingly as he shakes Star’s hand afterwards. “that was a real nail-biter right up till the end. all the respect bro, you’re one hell of a competitor. let’s keep in touch.” follows her on Twitter after. “Shoutout to my homegal S&S, we had a WILD ONE this weekend [fire emoji] [fire emoji] [fire emoji] Down to the wire! Nothin but respect [100 emoji] [100 emoji] [100 emoji] [flexed bicep emoji]”

lmaoooo now all the Air Force bros are like “OH SHIT OH SHIT” and flying around all panicked lol

“OH GOD, OH FUCK” somebody help me please why is this chapter so unexpectedly funny

NOW WHAT LOL

did the Noumu explode??

(ETA: this page is literally indecipherable to me.)

and now AFO is suddenly taking over and Tomura’s landing on one of the fighter jets still all crazed

SIGH

I’m sure you will lol. a James Patterson ghostwriter could put this quirk to better use than we’ve seen it used in this fight tbh

“do it now, Star” do what now??

oh for fuck’s

are you really gonna pointlessly squish your Respect Women Juice-drinking Air Force bros just so we can all feel even worse about this situation sob

FUUUUUUUUUUUUU

NOPE, INSTEAD SHE HESITATED FOR TOO LONG AND HE GOT HER

holy shit she basically just gave up? just straight up stopped fighting basically

I mean it wasn’t like the options were suddenly reduced to a binary “kill your buddies or let TomurAFO get you.” there were seriously more than just those two options here. you could have dodged him, or done literally anything else other than just standing there with your vaguely wistful expression and letting him grab you, Star

anyway so that’s it I guess. not one single person reading this was ever expecting any different. like Mirko and Nagant before her, S&S gets to be show-stealing and badass for approximately 1.5 to 3 chapters before her fairy godmother Horikoshi’s magic finally wears off, and her resourcefulness turns back into a pumpkin

I mean, idk. like I said, I never expected anything else. it would just be nice if we could get a fight like this where the badass lady character actually won. or lost, but still stayed relevant to the plot afterwards (and was actually relevant in any way before the fight, for that matter). or if Horikoshi would stop doing this every few months just because he can lol

anyways but good game. down to the wire. nothin but respect

[milkybonya]

cheer up, buttercup!

order #001: large banana milk tea with pudding and grass jelly for Cha Eunwoo, requested by my lovely @daybreakx !

-> enemies to lovers! & college!Cha Eunwoo x (gn) reader

-> warnings: some angst and food mentions! also drinking/alcohol mentions and everyone is really mean to the reader >:0

-> where Eunwoo is the president of your department and you're the vice president. you work your hardest but always end up second to him.

[a/n]: i'm sorry for the CHAOS that this is and i feel like there is minimal (?) fluff but i hope you enjoYY THIS WAS FUN

You and Eunwoo had major beef. There wasn't even an event that started it all, but Eunwoo treated you with such disrespect from the start. And of course, anyone who disrespected you was on your list of... well, the closest thing to a list of enemies.

The first time you met him was in freshman year at the orientation before classes began. There was a basketball game going on and Eunwoo was playing. You watched from the sidelines in the shade, cheering him on at first because he was playing on behalf of your department.

Then, the ball flew in your direction. Eunwoo had tried to get the ball back for his team, but ended up accidentally throwing it towards you.

Luckily, it fell somewhere to your left, but it gave you such a fright that you stood up and started panting.

A few of the people who were playing rushed over to make sure you were okay, but Eunwoo didn't even throw a look your way.

"You, from our department? Just throw the ball back!" was all he said to you.

It made your blood boil.

Eunwoo was known for being a little blunt anyway, but he definitely went out of his way to grind your gears.

"Where is the president?" the social convenor asked.

You sighed, checking the time and noticing that Eunwoo was fifteen minutes late.

"If I knew where he was... If only I knew," you mumbled.

"Why is Eunwoo even the president, anyway?" another member of the student council asked.

"Because he's hot and cool and everyone likes him!" a girl squealed. You couldn't even remember what her position in the student council was, but judging by her comment, you realized that she must be here just for Eunwoo.

"He's absolutely dumb, does nothing all day yet somehow gets A's! Of course, why wouldn't he be the president?" your tone was dripping with sarcasm and your anger was almost about to overflow.

Until that man walked into the meeting room, at last.

"I'm dumb and do nothing all day? Why, thank you. I'm here, now," Eunwoo declared, strolling towards his seat. He had his black leather jacket slung over a shoulder.

God, I hate my life, you thought to yourself.

"That's what [y/n], said, but I don't think that way!" the girl who squealed earlier spoke.

"Thanks, Stacy."

Eunwoo only flashed her a quick smile before he sat back in his seat.

"So, what are we doing?"

"What do you mean, 'what are we doing'? We have an open house tomorrow and tons of high school students will be checking on our department! You're the president, you were supposed to-"

Eunwoo hushes you by raising up his hand from where it was resting on his thigh.

"It's all good, I've got it sorted."

He slammed down a notebook onto the table.

"I've taken notes on how open houses have been previously organized and have put them all in this book. I highlighted the events that seemed like they had a lot of potential, so look through those and decide on something, alright? I'll be off," Eunwoo explained, standing up.

"Where are you going?" you almost spat out at Eunwoo. He walks in here, makes a fool out of you and then decides to leave?

"To go 'be dumb and do nothing all day'. Isn't that what you said I do?"

He glared at you slightly before leaving the room.

"[y/n], you made Nunu so angry! Nunu, don't be mad, come back!" Stacy screamed, chasing after him.

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

"This idiot really thought I wouldn't know about the past open houses..."

You slam down the notebook that you had also brought.

"Damn... so he really just provided us some useless info and left?" the social convenor asks, shaking their head.

"Yeah, pretty much," you say.

-

So how did you and Eunwoo end up as vice president and president, anyway? Well, these positions were given to the students with the highest grades. Eunwoo had the highest, so he was given the title of president. You were trailing close behind, and were given the title of vice president.

You always told yourself that you should have been the president, and rightfully so! Eunwoo never did anything but play games on his phone, anyway.

When the open house event finally rolled around, you and Eunwoo were supposed to give a speech in a lecture hall to get the day started. It was mostly to welcome the high school students and lift the spirits of everyone there, not too big of a deal!

But still, big enough of a deal that Eunwoo should have shown up.

He didn't. And you were anything but surprised.

Forced to deliver your speech and somehow improvise along the way to make up for Eunwoo's missing presence, you were shocked to find that the audience started clapping right as you finished. It felt as though your hard work had paid off, and you stepped back, smiling at everyone in the crowd.

Until Eunwoo walked up to the mic, flashing a smile of his own and greeting everyone.

Yep, they had all been clapping for him, not for you.

Eunwoo turned and looked at you, mouthing, "did you prepare my script?"

"You were supposed to do that! Do I look like your secretary?"

Eunwoo scowled at you and turned to everyone who was seated. He ended up repeating a bunch of the same things that you had said and received an enthusiastic applause. You sighed from behind the curtains, wondering why Eunwoo always got the credit for all your hard work. It was probably his looks, but still.

Throughout the day, you walked around campus and ensured that everything was running smoothly. Eunwoo was supposed to be doing the same, you hoped, and you asked him this when you ran into him outside of the campus student centre.

"Have you been walking around like you were supposed to?"

"I'll deal with my business on my own," he said, almost scoffing at you. He was standing there scrolling through his phone.

"This isn't 'your business'? We're literally supposed to be working together!"

"Stop nagging me, [y/n]. I don't like it when you do that," he grumbled.

"Yeah, well I don't like you!" you yelled, storming away from him. You felt... very embarrassed. What kind of comeback was that? It sounded like something a child would say... oh, well.

You saw your friend handing out some goodies at a table outside and approached them.

"How's it going, vice president?" they asked you, handing you a snack.

"Terrible," you groaned, opening it and eating some.

"Why, what's up?"

"Cha Eunwoo is being a pain in the butt, as always," you sighed.

"You might want to watch what you say," your friend mumbled, pointing behind you.

You turned around a little too late as the snack in your hands was whisked away by Cha Eunwoo himself.

"You're the only pain in the butt here, [y/n]," he said, eating your snacks.

"What are you doing here?! You should be on the other side of campus!" you yelled.

"And you shouldn't be here, either," Eunwoo said with a glare.

"Can y'all go argue somewhere else? You're scaring the highschoolers away," your friend complained, nodding in the direction of some highschoolers who were hesitant to approach the snack stand because you and Eunwoo were arguing.

"Go attend to your duties, [y/n]," Eunwoo huffed, walking away from you.

You angrily stomped the ground, walking away and feeling a little embarrassed because you could feel the high schoolers watching you.

-

"[y/n], why won't you learn from Eunwoo a bit? I understand that he's the president and you're only the vice, but you could have at least prepared what we needed you to prepare!" the director of your department told you, shaking her head at you.

You tried to contain yourself and looked down as you rolled your eyes. The only reason Eunwoo was more prepared than you were today was because he had stolen what you prepared and claimed it was his instead.

"I understand, I'm sorry."

"You're at risk of getting your position taken away, [y/n]! This is a warning."

After leaving the director's office, you were met wih a grinning Eunwoo who was sat on the couches in the lobby.

"What are you looking at?" you asked him.

"Thanks for these papers, [y/n]," he said, holding up your hard work.

"I didn't even give them to you. You took them from me, but okay," you said, leaving him there.

You walked to a coffee shop that was on the same floor to get something to refresh yourself. Since it was so early in the morning on a weekend, the building was fairly quiet and empty. It wasn't hard to overhear a conversation.

"Eunwoo, I think [y/n] has not been taking their vice president duties seriously these days. Do you think we should find someone else?"

The director's voice.

"Do the other members of student council agree?"

Eunwoo's voice.

"I haven't spoken to them-"

"Then [y/n] remains as vice. I haven't seen any sort of slacking or a lack of seriousness from them, and I don't think anyone else is fit for the role."

Did Eunwoo just... compliment and defend you?

You turned around with your drink in hand to find that it was indeed Eunwoo talking with your director. Then, you quickly scurried away to avoid being seen by them, feeling very confused.

-

"Cheers!" everyone shouted around the table, clinking their glasses together before downing their contents. After a successful open house, everyone had gathered at a bar to celebrate. You squirmed in your spot beside Eunwoo, feeling uncomfortable. He rolled his eyes at you and shifted even closer to you, leaving you with less room to sit than before.

"Is that better?" he asked, smirking at you.

You frowned, pressing your foot on top of his clearly new shoes.

"Is that better?" you asked him.

"Why are you guys so close? Are you about to kiss or something?" one of the student council members asked.

"No! Ew-"

"And what if we did?" Eunwoo asked, glaring at the member.

What the hell?

The member looked down at their drink, unsure of what to say. The atmosphere grew awkwardly quiet until someone asked if everyone wanted more drinks, to which there were murmurs of agreement.

"Hey, [y/n], I overheard the director talking with you in her office today. Did she really threaten to kick you out as vice president?" the student council member next to you asked.

You laughed awkwardly, already feeling uncomfortable.

"Yeah... I'm working hard, though! So I'm sure it won't happen."

"Are you sure? You weren't able to prepare what the director asked you to, and there's been countless times where Eunwoo has always had to do things for you..."

You were in such shock. Everyone in student council knew that Eunwoo just acted like he was on top of everything, meanwhile you were doing all the work. Even for his grades, he never studied but was at the top because of all the people who handed him study notes and past tests to get his attention. You worked so hard...

"... I get that you're the vice president, but shouldn't you be trying a little harder? Hey... [y/n]? Are you crying?"

You couldn't help it... it had all been building up until now. You didn't even realize you were crying, though, until this guy pointed it out to you. His hand on your shoulder felt like it was suffocating you...

"What the hell have you been on about, you idiot?" Eunwoo growled from your right. You turned to him and he was glaring at the boy who had been talking to you.

"I-"

"Don't even talk. There's nothing but garbage coming out of your mouth. Come on, [y/n], let's go," Eunwoo said, grabbing your hand and guiding you out of there.

You were extremely confused, but more than anything, you were just sad. So you didn't stop Eunwoo when he led you outside of the bar.

"Is everything okay? Take some deep breaths." Eunwoo was staring right into your eyes as he spoke to you, reaching out his thumb to gently wipe your tears away.

"What's... going on?"

"That idiot was saying some useless garbage so I brought you out here. I can leave if you want to be alone-"

"No! No, please don't go," you begged, holding on tightly to his sleeve. You couldn't help it, you completely broke down and found yourself sobbing into his chest. What was weirder was that Eunwoo had his arms wrapped around you and was rubbing your back...

After you calmed done, Eunwoo insisted that he walk you back to your dorm.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" you asked him, sniffling quietly.

He threw his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground.

"I don't like it when people are mean to you, [y/n]," he said quietly.

"But you're mean to me all the time!" you pointed out.

"You're the one who started being mean to me!" Eunwoo whined.

You stopped walking.

"I started being mean to you? Eunwoo, you know you're the one who threw a basketball at me that day and never apologized, right?"

Eunwoo stared at the dark sky for a moment as he tried to remember what you were talking about. Then his eyes widened and he looked at you.

"Oh... I swear, there's an explanation-"

"There better be!"

"This is going to sound dumb but... I felt too shy to look at you... which is why I avoided you like that."

What? Eunwoo, the most cocky and arrogant president you know, was shy?

"Why in the world were you shy, Eunwoo?"

It wasn't just the slight breeze in the air that was turning his cheeks red, now. He was about to tell you something important.

"Ever since the first day at the orientation week... I thought you were really... attractive. And then, learning about you through all the icebreakers just made things worse. I don't really know how to handle my feelings, so maybe that's why I came across as so rude."

There was silence as you processed everything and starting walking to your dorm again.

"Eunwoo... if you had just cleared this all up a little sooner, we wouldn't have been like cats and dogs," you said, laughing nervously and touching the back of your neck.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Do you still... like me?" you asked him quietly.

Eunwoo paused before answering. "I don't think I could ever just stop liking you."

Both of you giggled at his cheesy words. You felt like you were on another planet. The boy you'd hated so much turned out to have a crush on you?

"You don't need to tell me how you feel anytime soon. I know there's been a lot of misunderstandings... so let's just clear those up first?" Eunwoo cocked his head to one side.

"If you get to my dorm faster than me, I'll consider it!" you yelled before running in the direction of your residence building.

"I don't even know where you live!" Eunwoo yelled after you, following you along.

"What kind of president are you? You don't even know where your vice president lives?" you yelled back, sticking your tongue out at him.

Suddenly, Eunwoo caught up to you and started racing ahead. Of course he knew where you lived. He liked you.

[reidingandwriting]

"Deja Vu"

Word Count: ~2300 words

Ship: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (ex/platonic?), Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Warnings: A curse word or two, slightly OOC moments but it is fan-fiction so :)

A/N: I'm in love with this song and had to write this. Popped this baby out in 3 hours, and I'm pretty happy with it. Side note: I created my own timeline for this lmao. Morgan exists, but they don't live in the cabin. Reader is mentioned to be fem once or twice, but reads neutral besides that! Reader is Tony's kid but it could be read as adopted/his bio kid.

“One strawberry ice cream, just for you.” Peter said as he set the cup down in front of MJ, a single spoon dipped in the light pink dessert. MJ immediately started to eat as Peter took a seat beside her, and you and Ned were seated across from the couple at a local ice cream shop you had discovered. The one where you had taken him, where you had convinced him to try the strawberry ice cream instead of the vanilla he always got. You scooped a spoonful of your rocky road ice cream a little too aggressively, unable to eat your favorite ice cream flavor anymore.

“Thanks, Parker, it’s really good.” MJ said and Peter nudged her shoulder.

“Mind if I steal a bite?’

“Of course I mind.” MJ deadpanned and Peter blanched before MJ smirked at him. “Go ahead, loser. Just one.” MJ gave him a look and Peter saluted.

“Scout’s honor.” Peter took MJ’s spoon before he took a bite, and you barely held back the scowl as you looked over at Ned. He gave you a sympathetic smile and tapped his foot against yours under the safety of the booth. You brushed your shoulder against Ned’s while Peter and MJ were too entranced by each other to notice.

“If you get any ice cream on my jacket, I’m burning yours.” MJ’s words were menacing, but you all knew she was (mostly) kidding. Peter scoffed and held his hand against his chest in mock offense, the sleeves of MJ’s jean jacket comedically too short on Peter’s arms. MJ was dressed in Peter’s Midtown hoodie, the same one you had worn just a few months ago.

You thought it would have been funny to switch jackets, knowing your jacket would look funny on him, while you wore Peter’s oversized hoodie. And now here was MJ, wearing the same sweatshirt, while Peter wore her jacket. Have any original ideas, Parker?

“Earth to Y/N.” MJ waved her hand in your face, and you snapped back to the present. “You okay? You zoned out there for a minute.”

“Yeah, sorry. Morgan decided she wanted a sleepover last night, so we just had to build a pillow fort in my room, and that felt fantastic on my back. Almost as great as her practically laying on top of me all night.” You chuckled. “And you know I couldn’t move her, she’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

“And she knows it.” Peter said and you smiled over at him.

“Speaking of Morgan. She’s been asking me all week about if you want to come over sometime this weekend. She’s in a big Lion King phase, and she wants ‘her Petey’ to come have a pajama party with her and have a sing-along. She’s Nala, of course.” Ned snorted and Peter’s face fell.

“I can’t this weekend. MJ and I are having a Glee watch party this weekend, can you believe she’s never seen Glee?” Peter asked and you felt a pang of jealousy in your stomach.

“Oh, really?” You asked. Much like you hadn’t seen it either, until six months ago. “It’s pretty iconic, but also the worst show ever. Singing along is pretty fun, just being annoying. Really fun.” You thought back to when you and Peter were in your room, doing the same thing.

“Don’t stop believing!” Peter stood on your bed, using the remote as a microphone to serenade you. Peter looked at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes before singing the next line, just as enthusiastically as he did.

“Hold on to the feeling!” Peter cheered and you couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re so annoying, Parker.”

“As annoying as this show?”

“Almost.”

“Then I’m not quite done yet.”

“Raincheck next weekend, maybe?” Peter asked and you shrugged.

“I’ll have to check with Madame Secretary. She’ll likely be over The Lion King by next weekend, it’ll be ‘baby stuff.’” Your phone buzzed and you excused yourself before checking the text.

Iron Dad: Hey, kid. Are you busy?

You: A little. Why?

Iron Dad: Pep and I have an emergency meeting for work, and Happy’s sick so he can’t watch Maguna

You: I’m on my way. Give me five to say goodbye

Iron Dad: Thanks, Y/N/N. We owe you one

You: You owe me several. Love you

Iron Dad: Love you tons

“I’m sorry, guys, duty calls.” You smiled, albeit a little sadly, at your friends. “I’ll see you Monday at school?”

“We better. We have a project in chemistry due on Monday.” Ned said and you flipped him off.

“Science is my best class, you know I’ve had the project done and Dr. Banner approved since the project was announced in class.” You winked at Ned before waving at MJ and Peter. “See you later, lovebirds.” You internally cringed when ‘lovebirds’ came out more bitter than you intended. With goodbyes exchanged, you left the ice cream parlor, and you bit back the tears you felt beginning to build up. Did he feel it, too? Did he remember that you did that, too? Was he ever going to tell her all the ‘unique’ things Peter’s done were reused, that you had found them first? You wiped at your eyes before you hailed a taxi, and you shoved all your feelings down to be at your best for your little sister.

--

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Morgan barreled down the hall when you stepped out of the elevator, and you barely bent down to catch her in time as she collided with you.

“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan!” You scooped your sister up into your arms and peppered her face with kisses until she was laughing, and your mood immediately lifted at the sound. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“Mom’s at work, Dad’s in his room. He’s leaving us.” Morgan pouted and you copied her expression.

“Oh, no. You’re stuck with me tonight. Too bad I’m not tall enough to reach the juice pops in the freezer.” You gasped. “Oh, wait. I am!” Morgan thrusted her fist into the air with a cheer, and you set her down. “I need to go talk to Dad real quick, then we can do almost whatever you want.” You emphasized the almost, knowing she’d ask for something you definitely shouldn’t do, then argue that you said ‘anything.’ You definitely saw a career in law for her when she got older.

“Kay-kay. I’ll go get coloring books, then we get juice pops?”

“Deal.” You offered your pinky out, and she linked pinkies with yours before she ran off to her room. You shook your head fondly before you walked off to your dad’s room, and you knocked on his door before coming in. “Dad?”

“Hey, kiddo. Come on in, I’m just packing a few things for Pep.” You walked over to the bag your dad had packed, and you began to inspect everything. “Have I been approved?”

“I think I need a hug before giving approval.” You opened your arms and your dad happily pulled you into his chest, and he held you close, as if he could sense your feelings.

“Are you okay? Do I need to stay?” Tony rubbed your back and rocked you gently, and you buried your face deeper into his chest, your eyes watering and you gripped his shirt tighter, a habit you developed when Tony first took you in- you always grabbed onto him like he was your security blanket, and Tony quickly learned there was no use in getting you to let go until you were ready.

“No, I’m okay.” Your voice was muffled but you made no effort to move yet. “Mom needs you.” You paused. “You’ll be back soon, right?”

“Luckily we’re just headed to the New York headquarters. I hope we’re home by midnight, but I’ll tell you when we find out for sure.” You nodded and let go of your dad, and he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, and he wiped your tears away with his thumb and the action almost made you cry again. “Ben and Jerry’s and sad movies when I get back, or should I get a few punching bags set up in the gym?”

“Ben and Jerry’s.” Tony nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you patted his arm, telling him he could continue packing. “ Don’t forget Mom’s favorite lipstick. She always keeps one on her, but you can never be too safe.”

“Lifesaver.” Tony said before he went back to packing.

“I should go check on Morgan, let you finish getting packed.” You said and Tony smiled at you, a softness in his eyes reserved solely for you, Morgan, and Pepper.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best big sister?”

“I do my best.” You smile back before leaving. Fingers crossed she hadn’t made a mess already.

--

You laid in bed, scrolling through your camera roll with tears streaming down your cheeks. You pressed play on a video and let out a choked sob as you watched. You and Peter were seated at the piano in the living room, and your fingers moved gracefully across the keys, playing one of your favorite songs that Peter had begged you to play for him. The familiar sounds of Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’ filled your ears, and you sang along as you played. You turned to Peter, nodded at him, and he began to play the same song after you. You hugged him at the end of the song, grinning since he had finally learned it, and you began to play it again, Peter joining you in singing along. Not even that was reserved for you and him anymore, as you had learned recently.

“I didn’t know you played.” You said as MJ took a seat at the piano, Peter seated beside her.

“Oh, I just learned. Peter taught me the one song he knows how to play.” Your heart sank and now Ned was curious.

“What song?” Don’t say it, don’t say it.

“Uptown Girl.” MJ began to play, and you felt your lip begin to tremble. Your song. The one you had taught him. You looked away as Peter quickly pressed a kiss to her cheek after the first chorus, and he whispered something into her ear. You turned to Ned and dove deep into a conversation, refusing to cry in front of them.

You jumped when you heard a knock on your window, and you grabbed the baseball bat you kept by your bed. You would have called for Bucky or Sam, but the pair were off on their own mission. You got out of bed, wiping away your tears, and you walked to the window, bat at the ready. “FRIDAY, who’s getting knocked to next year with my bat?”

“It appears Peter Parker is the one outside your window.” Peter? Of course it was.

“Lights on dim, FRI.” You set the bat down and opened the window, and Peter popped into view. “Peter? What the hell? You almost gave me a heart attack, dude.”

“I’m sorry, I know, sorry. I didn’t plan on coming out here, but I needed to talk to you.” You gestured for Peter to come in, and you suddenly realized how you had to look to him. You were in a shirt you had stolen from Thor- what? His shirt got mixed up with yours, finders keepers. You were in an old pair of sweatpants that were covered in various stains- paint from Morgan, some grease from Tony’s lab, and a bleach mark from where you and Peter were goofing around in the lab and you spilled some mystery chemical on your pants. And let’s not even talk about your puffy eyes and the tear marks on your cheeks from a night of crying.

“About what?” You sat on your bed, eyes not meeting Peter’s.

“About earlier at the ice cream parlor. You seemed really… spaced out. Not yourself. And I caught you scowling once.”

“I didn’t scowl.” You tried to defend yourself but you sighed, knowing he was right.

“And ever since MJ and I started dating, you’ve just seemed different. You’re not, like, jealous, are you?” And you couldn’t help but laugh. Truly laugh, which caused Peter’s brows to furrow. “What’s so funny?”

“You think I’m jealous! Why should I be jealous?” Peter frowned at how you weren’t taking him seriously, and he was confused.

“You know, we had… a thing. Not that we dated, but I mean, we were really close you know.”

“Oh, I know.” Like a switch, your emotions flipped from sad to frustrated in seconds. “And I’m seeing all these ‘things’ we had all over again.” It was Peter’s turn to start getting irritated, and he crossed his arms.

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Strawberry ice cream at the parlor, you can’t act like we didn’t do that. Trading jackets, we did that shit too. Teaching her piano when I taught you, how do you not get deja vu?” Peter opened his mouth to talk and you held your hand up. “You’ve got a different girl, but there’s nothing new. I discovered those places you take her, I showed you Glee, I taught you the jokes that you tell to her. When are you gonna tell her? She thinks it’s special, but it’s all reused. I know I get deja vu, don’t you?” You had started to cry again, and Peter started to defend himself until FRIDAY spoke.

“Y/N, your father and mother have returned home. You may want to continue this conversation later.” You looked at Peter who wordlessly nodded. He walked to the window, and he paused before he spoke.

“We’ll talk Monday after patrol. Bye, Y/N/N.” You whispered goodbye before he left and you shut the window before you dropped to your knees, letting out broken sobs.

“I get deja vu when she’s with you…”

[pascalpanic]

“You can call me whenever you want… Even if you don’t have a reason to.” with Javi 😩 OR marcus moreno bc I think it fits him too

Personal Number (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: You’re lonely working as the American ambassador’s secretary. You miss the days of being down with the agents as a receptionist. At least you get to talk with Javier Peña on the phone somewhat often.

W/C: 1.5k

Warnings: language, brief mentions of sexual content. this is pretty tame.

A/N: I LOVE JAVIER. can you tell?? thank you for this idea Thea!!! I love it so much and I hope you like it too. Also, can you tell I like writing phone calls? I just think it’s so fun and a medium that isn’t covered super often.

it’s definitely not because I like not having to write about body language or action.

Javier Peña was a flirt. You knew that from the start, from the stories you’d heard from the other women around the embassy. He was cute, you admitted. Tight shirts and equally slim-fitting jeans, dark hair, lean and strong. He walked with power in his stance.

You liked him. He was a nice man, respectful. He flirted with everyone, but he never went too far. Sure, he’d slept with a solid chunk of the women who worked here, but he was supposedly a wonderful lover. His methods were unorthodox in the field, but he got what he needed. He was incredibly clever, setting up traps and getting information by any means necessary. You talked occasionally, when he’d stop by because you had a message for him at the receptionist desk. He was good for conversation. He liked the cinnamon candies you kept on your desk.

The other women talked with you more than he did. You and the other women chatted, ate lunch together. The rare female presence was much appreciated in such a testosterone-laden environment. You all got along well. Even compared stories of sleeping with certain agents, how their skills at finding the clit ranked, how snuggly they were after, how receptive they were to certain acts. It was fun.

Javier was a busy man. The phone on his desk rarely rang. If someone needed someone around the embassy, they went and talked to them in person. It was an excuse to get away from your desk, people figured. You rarely used the phone too, even as a receptionist. You’d answer calls when they came, but they were usually directed other places, with specific extensions. People here were more direct.

That was before you’d been appointed as the ambassador’s secretary. It was an honor. It meant you were good at your job. You’d taken it, bragging to the other girls over lunch. Everyone was excited for you.

The job, you found out, was dry. It consists most days of making phone calls. Stechner, Ambassador wants you. Ambassador? Stechner’s here. Yep. I’ll let him in. Hi, we’ll take three orders of arepas- sorry, yes sir? Scratch that, he wants four. And can you throw in a coffee- one second, yes sir? Got it- with four creams and two sugars.

You doodle on a notepad many days. You read newspapers or reports. You proofread memos for the ambassador before he sends them off to someone important. It’s draining and dry and you have to admit you hate it.

“Peña,” a voice answers the phone.

“Hi Javier. Are you busy?” You ask.

He smiles a little as he hears your voice, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. “When am I ever around here?” He asks, and you chuckle.

“I know the feeling.”

The two of you had talked a few times before. He was nice enough, if curt. Usually, he was busy. People only came to you when they needed something as a receptionist, and now even more so as a private secretary.

“How’s the promotion treating you?” He asks. He’d heard word as he talked with others. Noticed your spot was empty for a day or two before being replaced by another woman. He missed the little candies you kept on your desk. You always kept cinnamon disks stocked in a separate jar from the seasonal candies for him.

“It’s… good,” you nod, drawing a little fish on your notepad. “Kind of feels like a demotion sometimes. It’s boring up here. And lonely. I miss being around to talk with people.”

“We miss you,” he admits with a smile. “You still keep those cinnamon candies on your desk up there?”

You shake your head, holding the phone between your ear and your shoulder. “No. Ambassador doesn’t like them, so I switched over. I did get some new fun caramel flavored stuff though.”

“Damn,” he chuckles.

“Would it make you come up here if I had them?”

“I may have to visit the ambassador more often if you did,” he teases, and you chuckle softly. “Poor little social butterfly, cooped up on the highest floor, away from humanity.”

“I do feel like Rapunzel some days,” you sigh, still smiling. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I was supposed to ask if you were busy for the ambassador, not for myself. He wants to see you if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Right now?”

“Right now.”

You can hear shuffling on the other end. “Let me put my signature on one more paper and I’ll be up.” He hangs up and you sigh. There was the most interaction you’ll get for the day.

-

It seems that the closer the men get to Escobar, the more the ambassador needs to see Murphy and Peña. You don’t mind. The two men are funny, and the way they interact makes you smile.

Peña talks to you more than Murphy. Steve is more likely to go outside to smoke, while Javier smokes at his desk. That means you dial him more often simply because there’s a higher probability he’s at his desk. Not because you enjoy talking with him more.

The two men had picked up on calling you Rapunzel. Your energy and excitement was draining day by day, and they compared your new position outside of the ambassador’s office, high on the top floor of the embassy, to Rapunzel’s tower.

You playfully called them Javi and Stephen in return to annoy both of them. It didn’t work on Javier. It turned out he liked that, and you could tell by the way his voice softened. So you kept that.

“Peña.”

“Guess who?” you ask dryly, tapping your pen against your notepad.

The man chuckles. “You must be having an exciting day up there. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Ha.” The word is humorless and flat. “Ambassador wants to see you two.”

Javier groans. “Kind of busy.”

“Well, I’ll tell him that,” you nod and write down on a legal pad- separate from your doodling pad- Peña busy. 11:30. “How are things going down there today?”

“Annoying. Steve is a pain in my ass- hey, shut the fuck up,” you can hear him say even as he removes the receiver away from his phone. You giggle at that, smiling as he speaks again. “Sorry. Can you guess who that was?”

“What was he saying this time?” You ask, twirling the cord to the phone around your finger.

“Nothing,” he insists, but you can hear Murphy shouting. Some message he’s trying to get to you.

“Well, alright. Call up when you’re less busy,” you ask him and hang up.

You really want to know what Murphy was going on about. You dial his desk and he picks up. “S’this Rapunzel?” A southern accent twangs.

“Of course,” you chuckle. “What were you shouting into Javi’s phone?”

“Oh, nothing. Oh, hey, wait,” he says, pulling the phone down and pressing it to his chest. You can hear the muffled voices of the two men, but not what they’re saying. He puts it back to his ear quickly after. “Anyway, it’s nothing. We’ll call you back when we’ve got a minute to come up.”

Odd, you think, before going back to your work on your desk.

-

The phone rings again an hour later. “Ambassador’s office,” you say with a gentle lilt to your voice.

“Hey, Rapunzel,” a kind but rough voice speaks through the phone. Javi.

“Hey,” you chuckle a little. “You guys ready to come up?”

“Uh, no, not yet. But I do want you to write something down for me.”

“Anything,” you nod, priming your pen above the piece of paper.

Javier rattles off ten numbers, and you diligently write them down on the paper. You repeat it back and he affirms that it’s correct. “Got it. What is it?”

“It’s my personal phone number.”

“Javi, the ambassador already has your phone number.”

“No, I know. It’s for you.”

Oh. Your heart flutters excitedly in your chest, causing you to let out a soft giggle.

“I like talking with you. Our phone calls are the highlight of my day. You can call me whenever you want… even if you don’t have a reason to. I just… like hearing your voice. I like you.”

You clutch the paper, grinning ear to ear. “Well, I like you too, Javi. I’ll be using this,” you assure him, looking down at it and beaming. “Now, you said you’re busy. Get back to work.”

“Yes ma’am. See you in a bit.”

Click. Dial tone. Your heart fills with sparks and little fireworks, sending you into a loud laugh of excitement.

The thick oak doors swing open. The ambassador looks at you with concern. “Everything alright out here?” He asks you.

You nod, biting your lip and looking down to hide your grin. “Yeah, yeah. Great, sir. Peña and Murphy aren’t ready yet. They’ll be up later.”

The man gives you a nod and closes the door behind him.

The grin returns. You trace the freshly-dried ink, the nine numbers that will connect you directly to Javier at any time you want. You pull your contact book from your purse, sitting beneath your desk, flipping to a clean page.

Javier Peña, you write.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

personal number

You go back and draw a small heart next to his name.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 9

Request: Yes or No

Almost at double digits y'all. Can someone be an angel and send me the ages of every one between civil war and endgame? Ik Wanda was 18-19 in Age of Ultron and Civil war and Sam was probs in his mid to late twenties in Civil War.

~

You frowned, touching the collar around your neck. It made you feel like an animal. It was to prevent you from using your powers. Rhodes had mentioned it would shock you if you attempted to use your powers. You weren't sure if it was instantaneous or if someone controlled it but you didn't feel like finding out.

"You like cats?" Sam asked T'Challa, prince of Wakanda.

"Sam." Steve called, glancing over his shoulder like a disapproving parent. You snorted softly, biting your bottom lip.

"What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don't want to know more?" Sam asked, looking at Steve.

"I like cats." You mumbled, looking at Sam with a small smile. Sam turned towards you with a small grin.

"Of course you do, Animal Planet." You rolled your eyes at the new nickname, shifting slightly. You really didn't want to trigger the collar.

"I'm a dog person."

"You look like a dog person."

"And what do dog people look like?"

"Morons." You answered, giving a slight shrug as Steve cracked a smile, trying to bite back a chuckle. Sam huffed lightly, looking away from you. A moment of silence passed before Steve spoke.

"Your suit.. Vibranium?" Steve asked T'Challa. The prince turned his head slightly.

"The Black Panther has been the protector of Wakanda for generations. It's meant to pass from warrior to warrior. Now, because your friend murdered my father, I also wear the mantle of king. So I ask you.. How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?" T'Challa asked, finally looking at Steve. Steve stayed silent, looking forward. You sighed through your nose, feeling the tension return. You wondered if Clint had been notified of your arrest yet. The van pulled into a parking garage, officers opening the door once it came to a stop. You got out, following Steve to the man and blonde.

"What's gonna happen to him?" Steve asked. You turned your head, looking over at him. You made eye contact with him again, holding it for a minute before looking away.

"What was that?" Sam asked quietly. You frowned, brows furrowing.

"That- That little staring contest."

"Oh, shut up." You huffed, looking away from him.

"Same thing that's gonna happen to you. Psychological evaluation." The man replied.

"This is Everett Ross, CIA operative and Task Force Commander." The woman, Sharon Carter, introduced him. Her gaze flickered to you.

"The shock collar will be taken off after the evaluation." She said, voice stotic but gaze pitiful.

"What about a lawyer?"

"Lawyer, that's funny. See their weapons are placed in lock up." Ross instructed the officers. Sam scoffed, following the officers. Steve spared one last glance to Bucky before following Ross and the officers. You walked besides Sam, being escorted through the building.

"You'll be placed in offices instead of cells. Do me a favor and stay in them." Ross stared straight forward as he spoke. T'Challa moved to walk beside him.

"I don't intend on going anywhere." T'Challa said. You spotted Natasha, feeling some sense of relief.

"Clint was informed and I assured him I'd keep an eye on you." Natasha told you, giving a small reassuring smile. She looked at Steve, addressing him. The relief went away upon hearing Tonys' voice. He finished his phone call, approaching you and the guys.

"Consequences?" Steve questioned, staring at him. You looked around the large room, noticing the screens and everything going on.

"Secretary Ross wants you three prosecuted." Tony said, motioning to them and you. Your brows furrowed slightly. There were two guys with the last name Ross who looked vaguely alike. That definitely wouldn't be hard to remember.

"I'm not getting that shield back, am I?" Steve asked as Tony and Natasha walked away.

"Technically, it belongs to the government. Wings too." Natasha said, shrugging.

"That's cold." Sam muttered.

"Warmer than jail." Tony called back. You looked at the security cameras, noticing the room Bucky had been moved to.

"You got the hots for him or something?" Sam asked. Steve turned to look at you, blinking a few times. You shot Sam a look, raising your brows.

"No, Samuel. I do not and if I did, why would you ask infront of his longtime bestie?" You asked, almost gritting your teeth. Sam raised his hands in surrender as Tony pulled Steve into a meeting room to talk.

"Why have a meeting in a glass box?" You asked quietly. Sam shrugged, looking it over.

"To prevent fighting." Sam answered. You watched at Steve and Tony seemed to argue. You looked at Sam with an amused smile.

"Physical fights." Sam clarified as Tony stepped out and Sharon had you and Sam enter. You took a seat across from Sam, looking at the security camera footage. Sharon entered, placing a paper infront of Sam.

"I'm sorry about the collar." Sharon apologized softly. You leaned back in the seat, shrugging lightly. She pressed a button, allowing Steve to listen to the footage. Sharon slid over some photos over to Steve.

"Why would the Task Force release this?" Steve asked. Sharon gave a shrug.

"To alert the public, I guess."

"Right.. A good way to force a guy into hiding. Got seven billion people looking for The Winter Solider."

"You're saying someone framed the guy to find him." Sharon mused quietly. Sam seemed confused, looking at Steve. You looked back at the footage on screen.

"Steve, you looked for the guy for two years and found nothing." Sam reminded him.

"We didn't bomb the UN."

"That doesn't guarantee that the person who framed him knew that we'd get him." Sharon looked at Steve. She suddenly frowned, brows furrowing as Steve turned towards the footage. You looked up as the power went out, seeing the staff begin to freak out and try to locate the source. You looked at Sam, slowly standing up. Sharon took out a key, sliding it over to you.

"Level 5 east wing." She said as you unlocked the collar, tossing it to the side as running out of the room with Sam and Steve. Whoever had framed Bucky had found him. You followed the two down the hall and down some stairs. You reached the area, finding guards on the ground. The interviewer lied on the ground, calling for help. Steve approached him with you hesitantly following. You noticed movement out of the corner of your eye, dodging Sam when he was thrown towards you.

"Hey, dude." You breathed out, swallowing. Bucky had a deep frown on his face, blue eyes holding nothing but bloodlust. He looked downright terrifying. You thrusted both hands forward, shooting a fireball that sent him flying back against the wall. Steve quickly stepped between you and him as you turned and rushed to Sam.

"Sam? Sam!" You shook his shoulders, shakey fingers pressing against his neck. You felt his pulse, relieved to feel his heartbeat. You slapped his cheek, waking him up.

"I've always wanted to do that." You muttered, watching him wince. He groaned, turning his head. You followed his gaze, seeing the guy from before looking down where Steve had been thrown. You stood, helping Sam up and following him up a set of stairs. With Steve out of commission temporarily and Bucky in a frenzy, the guy was the only hope of stopping everything.

"Can you try to stop him or trip him up?" Sam asked, rushing up the stairs.

"I can't see him and I'd rather not make this whole building collapse on accident." You replied, almost tripping over your own feet. Sam found an exit, following the crowd of people running.

"He looked like any other guy." You said, taking in deep breaths. Sam shot you a weird look.

"We just ran up like five flights of stairs." You breathed out, hands resting on your knees. At least the chilly weather provided some help. Sam noticed a jacket, jogging over and picking it up. You stumbled after him, looking it over.

"I really need some water." You whispered, lightly fanning yourself. Sam rolled his eyes, following the crowd of people. You sluggishly followed, giving him a small smile when he stopped by a shop to get you a bottle. He took out his phone as you drank half of it.

"Come on." Sam pulled you along, following direction and entering warehouse. Steve had Bucky laying against some machinery, unconscious and metal arm trapped in a wedge.

"You two okay?" Steve asked, looking you and Sam over with a concerned frown.

"Yeah.. Someone over here needs some more training." Sam glanced at you with a teasing smile. You rolled your eyes, licking your lips as you heard the sound of a helicopter.

"Could you ice over his arm?" Steve asked.

"He broke a stone wall. Ice won't hold him but sure, I'll do it." You shrugged, approaching the unconscious man. You licked your lips, splashing the rest of the water on the machinery and touching it after. The ice creeped down, covering over the metal arm. You looked at him, finally getting a proper look. He was handsome. Brown hair that barely reached his shoulders, facial hair just growing in, those icy blue eyes that either swirled with sadness or anger.

"You're giving him bedroom eyes again." Sam called, his voice echoing slightly. You clenched your jaw, looking at him.

"What? I can't admire something that looks nice?" You asked, watching his demeanor change. He looked alert yet amused. You frowned, looking back at Bucky and finding him staring right at you. You rolled your lips into your mouth, clearing your throat.

"God, that's so embarrassing." You whispered, speedwalking towards Sam as he cracked up. You ignored your burning face, arms crossing. Sam calmed down, wiping away a tear. Steve walked over, watching Bucky grunt and sit up. He looked at Steve, calling out his name in a hoarse voice.

"Which Bucky am I talking to?" Steve asked, staring at him intently. Bucky stayed silent for a moment before speaking.

"Your moms' name was Sarah... And you used to wear newspapers in your shoes." Bucky said, smiling softly. Steve relaxed, gaze softening.

"You don't read that in a magazine."

"Just like that we're supposed to be cool?" Sam asked, giving Steve a slightly wide eyed look.

"What did I do?" Bucky asked, looking between you, Steve, and Sam.

"Enough." Steve answered. Bucky shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head as he hung his head.

"I knew this would happen.." He whispered. "Everything HYDRA put inside of me is still there. All he had to do was say the god damn words."

"Who was he?"

"I don't know." Bucky answered, though you weren't sure if it was truthful or not. He didn't seem like the type to lie, at least not to Steve.

"People are dead. The guy did all that just to get ten minutes with you." Steve pointed out, watching his old best friend. Bucky looked defeated and confused. "I need you to do better than 'I don't know'."

"He wanted to know about Siberia. Where I was captain." Bucky said quietly, gaze flickering around as he tried to remember.

"He wanted to know exactly where."

"Why would he need to know that?" Bucky stayed silent, licking his lips as he stared at the ground. He looked at Steve.

"Cause I'm not the only Winter Solider." He revealed. You looked at Sam in confusion and surprise. Bucky was strong and deadly on his own but a whole army could overthrow governments all over the world.

"That's terrifying." You whispered, leaning against the wall and sliding down so you were sitting down. Steve chose to lean against the wall after letting Bucky's arm free.

"Who are they?" Steve asked as Bucky brushed some hair out of his face.

"Their most elite death squad. More kills than anyone in HYDRA history and that was before the serum." Bucky responded.

"They all turn out like you?" Sam asked. Bucky looked at him, swallowing.

"Worse."

"The doctor... Did he control them?" Steve tilted his head. Bucky looked down at his lap.

"Enough."

"Said he wanted to see an empire fall." Steve told you and Sam. Bucky looked up at his words.

"These guys could do it. They speak thirty languages, can hide in plain sight, infiltrate, assassinate. They could take a whole country down over night and you'd never see them coming."

"Color me impressed." You whispered, playing with the strings of the jacket you were given after getting to Berlin. Sam slowly walked towards Steve.

"This would've been a lot easier a week ago." Sam said quietly, arms crossing. You stood up, dusting off your pants and approaching them.

"If we told Tony-"

"He'd have him locked up." You cut off Steve, glancing back at him.

"Plus, he'd never believe us." Sam added.

"But if he did-"

"It wouldn't matter and who knows if the Accords would let us help him." Sam stared at him. Steve let out a defeated sigh, looking away from you and Sam.

"We're on our own."

"Not completely. Dad would help." You pointed out. Sam nodded, glancing at you.

"And, I know a guy." Sam said with a light shrug. You looked at him with a raised brow.

"You have friends?"

"I said I know him, not that we're friends but to answer your question, yes. I have friends that aren't you. Jealous?"

"Imaginary friends don't count."

~~~~~~~~~~

The drive was silent, Steve and Bucky occasionally reminiscing about the old days.

"On a scale of one to ten, how impressed is Clint gonna be when he sees you?" Sam asked. You smiled, letting out a chuckle as you watched the snowflake float inches above your hand.

"Probably an eleven, but he'll give me the typical dad speech infront of mom." You answered, lightly blowing on the snowflake and watching it disappear. Bucky turned his head to look at you. His muscular figure was semi cramped in the backseat. Steve picked the worst possible car to hijack.

"Hawkeye's your father?"

"Adoptive. He has a tendency of taking care of strays who once tried to take down the team." You told him, giving a small smile. Bucky hummed, nodding.

"Speaking of strays, how are you and Wanda?" Sam asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Uhm, good? We're still good friends, even after the kiss." You shrugged lightly.

"Woah, kiss?" Steve repeated, brows raising.

"Yeah, we kissed but it felt.. Weird. There was no spark or overwhelming emotions. The love I have for her is the same love I have for Lila and the boys. She'll always be like a sister to me." You told them, glancing at Bucky. Bucky was still a bit on edge but you could tell he was trying to get adjusted.

"What are your powers?" Bucky asked, attempting to get comfortable in the car.

"I'm like the avatar, I guess."

"Who?" Bucky furrowed his brows. You blinked, lips parting as you stared at him. He was from the 1900s and worked for a criminal organization, obviously he wouldn't know a kids show from the 2000s.

"It's- It's from a show. An avatar is someone who controls all four elements and they basically save the world, I guess." You explained, growing a bit embarrassed at how silly it sounded. Bucky didn't seem to judge, giving a small smile.

"We could watch it together, if you want. It's a nice show." You offered, smiling. Sam raised his brows.

"Wonder what Clint will think about that." He muttered as Steve glanced at you and Bucky through the rearview mirror. You shot Sam a small glare, reaching out and touching the back of his neck with cold fingers. He hissed and leaned forward, pouting as he rubbed his neck.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Bucky said softly, nodding. You looked back at him, a smile appearing on your face. Bucky was incredibly attractive and you couldn't deny having a small growing crush on him but you didn't want to cross a boundary. He was from the 1900s afterall.

"How'd you end up fighting the Avengers?" Bucky asked, focusing all his attention onto you.

"The orphanage I grew up in threatened to kick me out since I had turned 18. I freaked and caused an accidental forest in the orphanage so the team was called." You told him, chuckling softly. Buckys' gaze softened, a hum leaving him.

"You've got some pretty cool powers, doll."

"Doll?" Steve and Sam repeated. A flustered smile appeared on your face, giggling softly. Bucky glanced at the two, wondering if he had crossed a line or said something wrong.

"Thanks." You looked forward, biting back an even bigger smile. You weren't completely sure if he was flirting or not but it was nice to get a compliment from an attractive guy, even if he had almost broken your friends' back an hour before. Steve slowly parked the car, getting out to greet Sharon.

"Could you move the seat up?" Bucky asked Sam, arm moving so it resting ontop of the carseats. His metal fingers lightly brushed against your hair but you weren't bothered by it.

"No." Sam replied. Bucky let out a deep sigh. You bit your bottom lip, looking at him.

"We can switch." You shrugged lightly.

"It's fine-"

"No, you shouldn't be squished back here." You faced him, feeling him gently grab your waist. He was incredibly gentle and cautious, moving you onto his lap briefly before he scooted to the side. You sat behind Sam, lightly kicking the seat. Sam moved it forward ever so slightly. You looked over at Steve and Sharon, blinking when they kissed.

"Oh? When did that happen?" You asked, brows furrowed. You knew there was some attraction between them but you didn't expect them to already be at the kissing stage.

"A while back, I think."

"Huh.." You whispered. Steve returned to the car with Sam's wings and his shield, putting them in the trunk. He drove to an airport parking lot, pulling up beside a van. You smiled widely, quickly getting out when Sam pulled the seat forward.

"Thanks for keeping my kid safe, Cap." Clint said, opening his arms as soon as he spotted you. You happily hugged him, feeling a sense of relief and safety wash over you.

"About time you started causing me trouble." Clint grinned as he pulled back. You noticed Wanda, pulling her into a hug as well.

"Saw it on the news. You okay?" She asked softly. You nodded, pulling back and brushing some of her red hair out of her face.

"Vision let you go easy?" You asked. Wanda shook her head, chuckling softly. Sam approached you, glancing back at Bucky.

"Might want to keep an eye on these two." Sam said, motioning to you and Bucky. Clint stared at him before looking turning to look at you. Wanda tilted her head, looking at you as well.

"You're such a dick." You muttered. You knew Sam was just being protective. He had always seen and treated you like a brother.

"Bad boy and older, huh? God, I hoping you had skipped those phases." Clint sighed heavily. You were partially suprised he hadn't mentioned or pointed out that Bucky was a guy. You hadn't really spoken about sexuality and attraction with him but knowing Clint, he'd be supportive about it.

"Not bad." Wanda said quietly, giggling softly as she smiled. You gave her a playful smile.

"I've got good taste."

[bunny-xoxo]

CEO!Levi Slow Burn HC PT. 2

CEO!Levi x secretary!reader

warning(s): none :)

a/n: I made pt 1 (which you can find here) not too long ago and this was highly requested so I went along and wrote it! This is just some general HC of your guys relationship but if you’d like any more this ~universe pls request and lemme know! I also have an intern!Eren HC based in this so I’d love to hear any ideas :) sfw / nsfw! Okok enjoy!

Omg ok after that date Levi is so stupid I stg I’m sorry

He somehow becomes more?? Shy ??

When he walks in the next morning and you’re there to greet him he actually blushes a little on his face, and he can’t seem to hold any sort of eye contact with you as he just grunts and storms past you to his office

Now he’s gone and secluded himself to his office all day, and if you knock on his locked door to tell him there’s someone waiting to speak to him on the phone he just tells you to take a message

And now tbh you’re second guessing the date cause it seemed to go so well!

The two of you talked until the damn place was closing and you even gave him a kiss on the cheek as you left-

Oh no, was that why he was avoiding you??

Now this mf got you worrying all day that you crossed some sort of boundary when in REALITY he’s got an even bigger crush on you and this fool just doesn’t know how to handle it 😭

So once the day is over and you’re rushing over to him he’s immediately thinking about how on earth he’s even gonna talk to you but before he can finish that thought you’re apologizing to him when he’s been the one avoiding you all day, and now he feels like an even bigger asshole as he should for avoiding u like this

“- and I just didn’t even think about how that could’ve crossed a boundary for y-“

You stopped yourself out of surprise when you felt a soft pair of lips press to your cheek before being replaced by a contrasting roughness from his fingertips,

“I thought it was very sweet don’t apologize, as much as I find your rambling endearing, there’s no need. Why don’t I apologize to you over some wine at my place?” he’s lucky he can be smooth wit it sometimes

You know the wine is more of a sentiment as he’s more of a tea drinker himself but you’re definitely not gonna pass up this offer

Don’t let mans fool you though cause the moment you meet him at his house he feels like he’s under inspection

You aren’t even doing anything he’s just hyper aware of every smudge and speck of dust and anything that could possibly be even the tiniest bit out of place

Meanwhile you’re trying not to burst at the seams when you watch him shake his suit coat off as he drapes it over the back of the couch, rolling his shoulders back and sighing, “Mm, what would you like to drink?”

“A waters fine!”

“No wine?”

“Well, I would like to be able to drive myself home tonight.”

Great, now you got this poor man flustered 😭

“Oh- I , I wasn’t implying I was thinking of having you stay the night if that’s where that thought was coming from. I didn’t think - at all, really. It’s just something people usually casually drink so I figured I’d offer. Not that I casually drink it, I’m not an alcoholic. Not that everyone who does drink casually is an alcoholic, I’m just saying. I’m not.” I said he’s only smooth wit it sometimes

LEVI PLS ITS NOT THAT SERIOUS AJDSDJFJK

you just giggle from your seat at his couch and he takes that as a sign he can breathe again

Once he finally sets your guys respective drinks on the coffee table, on top of coasters of course, he’d offer to find something to watch but you two talk the night away again instead.

He finds he really likes how easy it is to talk with you

You fill the silences effortlessly and he never feels pressure to talk when he doesn’t have anything to say, and when he does have a story or a comment or two he’s starting to like the way your gaze makes his face feel hot

He’s also starting to realize you don’t just make his face feel warm but everything - he’s not too sure what to make of that yet though, maybe he’ll have to have some more nights like these to be sure

He does know that tomorrow he’s not gonna make the mistake of avoiding you

He thinks he’ll greet you with a cup of something warm and another kiss on the cheek instead

And I hope you like talking cause Levi plans on listening to any story you can’t finish tonight, tomorrow during lunch

———————

Here’s pt. 2! I’m liking this CEO!Levi universe a lot so far omg so if you have any ideas or requests regarding anything like I mentioned above in my authors note pls feel free to request or come in my inbox! Any kinds of thoughts are appreciated <3

General requests are open, too!

Thanks again you guys 🥳 ily!

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @peachysimp

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Canary, Part 5

First

Previous

Tim tipped his head to the side as he considered the woman in front of him.

She had a slightly nervous smile as she pulled one of her earbuds out of her ears. “Hi.”

Her eyes flicked past him and, after quickly glancing back to make sure no one was about to attack him, he realized she was feeling cornered.

… probably because she was currently being cornered.

He hesitantly took a few steps to the side until he could lean against the wall. “I’m not here to hurt you or anything, I just want to talk,” he promised.

Her hand slipped out of her pocket. He was willing to bet that she had some kind of weapon in there.

Which was good, honestly. Gotham was a dangerous place for newcomers like her.

“... so, what’re you here for?” She asked when he didn’t say anything for a while.

He bit his lip as he considered her.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng, 27.

The first time they’d spotted her following them around, they’d assumed she was just another alias of Canary… but the fourteen aliases they had found for Canary so far had always had one thing in common: despite how far back it may have gone or how many connections she may have had, there was never anyone alive to corroborate her story.

She would have definitely done that this time since there was a 100% chance that the bats would notice her. Canary would have made sure that, no matter what, they couldn’t pop on over to anyone’s house and ask about her.

But Marinette had two parents. They were back in Paris, of course, but they still existed. Babs had spotted them walking to the grocery store just yesterday. They had a consistent call history with them dating back years.

He had entertained the idea that they could be paid actors… but Canary worked alone. She had informants and sponsors, sure, but partners? No. It had been nine years, if she was going to start working with people she probably would have done that already.

Marinette checked out.

… or, at least, she checked out in all ways but two.

“How did you get here?” Asked Tim.

Marinette frowned a little. “... plane?”

He shook his head. “We have footage of you at Roissy Airport, but you never arrived in Gotham.”

Her skin paled. “Must be a glitch.”

Okay. That’s definitely not suspicious at all, no way.

He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Maybe you missed me.”

“With our facial recognition scanners? And three people checking it over?”

Her hand was back in her pocket and her eyes were flicking to the exit nervously.

“I’m not going to deport you or anything,” he added quickly. “Lots of people here aren’t documented and that’s totally fine, the immigration system is totally messed up… I’ll shut up about that now, that’s not helping... I just… want to know. Curious.”

“Paranoid,” she corrected with a hesitant grin.

“... cautious,” he said after a few seconds.

“Sure, if that’s what you want to call it.”

“It’s much nicer than paranoid, that’s for sure,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

She rolled her eyes and he smiled as some of the tension in her shoulders disappeared.

“The horse miraculous,” she said after a few seconds. “That’s how I got here.”

He sighed internally. Metas in Gotham. Not good. There was a reason that rule was in place. If metas -- even good ones -- started coming then there was nothing stopping the huge, otherworldly threats from following them over. They’d stick with their overdramatic fucks that need therapy, thanks, their gadgets didn’t exactly hold up against literal gods.

And then Marinette giggled. “You don’t need to look so scared. The weird old guy who holds onto all the miraculous… he doesn’t really use them, he just keeps them locked in a weird box thing. I just…” She shrugged. “I had something on him and he was more than happy to get rid of me.”

… well, that’s a little concerning, thought Tim.

Not exactly unexpected, though. She’d very publicly gotten a restraining order by Chat Noir around ten years prior and, while none of the other miraculous holders had come out against her, many of the ones that had revealed themselves as holders had already denounced her. Tim wouldn’t have been surprised if she had stalked more of them -- hell, she was stalking him and his family, clearly she hadn’t limited herself to Chat Noir.

But this raised his second question: “Why now?”

She cringed. “Well, I’d thought about moving a long time ago. No place in France was going to hire me with the whole ‘stalking one of their beloved superheroes’ thing… but I decided to stay for a while. I didn’t want it to seem like I was running away, y’know?”

He nodded his understanding slowly. That made sense. It wasn’t a decision based on logic, but not all decisions are.

She smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Also, I kind of missed having superheroes, to be honest.”

Tim raised his eyebrows. He wasn’t going to correct her use of the word ‘superheroes’ instead of ‘vigilantes’, English was at least her second language and that would be rude, so he went down a different route: “I thought they still had their miraculous. It’d be stupid if they didn’t. Mayura is still out there and all.”

“As far as I know, everyone but Ladybug and Chat Noir gave up their miraculous. Everyone knows Mayura is just Adrien Agreste even if we can’t prove it. Nothing else makes sense,” she said with a shrug.

He bit his lip. “I thought that the secretary disappeared that day, though. Wasn’t it her?”

“Nathalie Sancoeur? I heard she moved to America,” Marinette said with a shrug. “But America hasn’t had any attacks, so no one in Paris thinks it was her. Adrien is probably just waiting until the miraculous holders drop their guards.”

He nodded slowly. He didn’t realize he was going to be gossiping and discussing conspiracy theories with a person who stalked heroes but, he had to admit, it was kind of fun. Reminded him of the good old days when he was just a kid who followed the bats around for fun.

… but that wasn’t how things were anymore. He had responsibilities now. Which he was currently not doing. Oops.

“I should get back to work.”

“I should get back to watching you work,” she half-joked.

He hesitated. “Is there any way I can convince you not to do that? Gotham isn’t Paris, it’s dangerous here.”

She grinned. “I stalked a guy who had a literal god at his beck and call. I can handle a few odd goons,” she said.

He bit his lip but nodded. “Call for help if you ever need it.”

“Fine. Fine.”

He got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t going to but he was going to give her the benefit of the doubt just for now.

He pulled his grapple gun from his belt and hooked it around the rooftop.

“See you later.”

“Well, you will see me later, I’ll --,” she began, only to cut herself off with a gasp: “NO!”

He quickly checked over his shoulder but he didn’t see anything. He turned back to her, questioning look on his face, only to see her devastated expression.

“Cedric died,” she said sadly, pointing at the ear with the earbud still in it.

…?

~

Marinette sat in a coffee shop, sipping at a drink as she worked on her computer.

Tim Drake had five coffee shops that he enjoyed. The tiny tweet she’d sent out a little over a week ago ensured that he wasn’t going to be allowed coffee at his place of work. So, he was likely to go and get coffee somewhere else. She was currently sitting at the one closest to WE.

… it was very expensive. She needed to drink her coffee slower.

She squinted at her resume with a frown.

She was pretty sure it was good enough to get in, but…

Marinette sighed lightly and let her head hit the table. Fuck. She hated this stupid job so much.

She heard the chair across from her scrape against the wooden floors and slowly lifted her head. She squinted at the guy in front of her for a minute.

“Hello,” she said carefully.

The brown-haired man smiled at her.

She glanced him up and down. He was clean in a slimy kind of way. He was too nice. His hair was coiffed perfectly, his suit neatly pressed, his face clean-shaven. People who had the guts to dress like that in Gotham were always the worst of the worst.

“Hi!” he said cheerfully.

She sighed. “You weren’t even going to ask if you could sit here?”

“You’ve been alone for a while. Figured it was safe to assume you didn’t have anyone.”

Cool. Cool cool cool. Her hand slipped to the dagger hidden in her hoodie pocket. She may not know what kind of bad he was, but he was definitely bad news.

“No, actually, I was just waiting for my friend to get off work so they could join me.”

“Oh! I’ll keep you company until they show up!”

Damn. She hated when people called her bluff.

She forced her most pleasant smile to her face. “No thanks. I have work to do, actually.”

“Applying for jobs, right?”

She paled.

“Sorry, but I was curious so I just peeked over your shoulder a little bit. I actually had a couple of openings at my job, and you seem like a good candidate, if you’d like --.”

“No!” She said quickly.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed just a little. “I was just offering you a job.”

“I don’t want to get a job this way. I prefer the formal interview process and everything,” she lied.

“Oh, well, my company is having interviews tomorrow and there should be an open spot around --.”

A hand came to rest on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

~~~

TheBetterCanary: @/BrucieWayne give me a hundred million dollars and ill stop doing crime

BrucieWayne: Done.

TheBetterCanary: i take it back five hundred million

BrucieWayne: Sure.

TheBetterCanary: a billion

BrucieWayne: Alright.

TheBetterCanary: what the fuck

~~~~~

Next

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram

[colormeyondublue]

Yondu & The Secretary  Chapter 2: The Love Bug

Chapter 1 Here  Chapter 3 Here A few months go by aboard the ravager ship. You find out that Yondu is the Captain, and Kraglin, the Xandarian, is his first mate. The ship is called the Eclector, and some of the guys on board are total pigs. Yondu sets up a small office space for you to work out of and you find that the work is surprisingly simple. You get into a routine and start to really settle in. You also come to find that Yondu is particularly kind; to you. To the crew, he could be a total ass. Your slight attraction to the Captain was only a thought when you first met him on Krylor, but every day it kept growing and growing with how sweet he was. Maybe it was because you were a woman? Maybe it was because you were Terran? You couldn’t be sure. This might become a problem.

One evening, your office door creaks open loudly, and you hear heavy boots thunking into the room. Yondu. You smirk softly at the thought. “So, you goin’ to Geff’s little get together?” The Captain’s voice came from behind you as you finished up the data entry from the crew’s last heist. It was Geff’s birthday. The boys decided to throw him a little party at the bar on the ship. “Me? Heh, no…probably not.” You hadn’t looked at him yet, but something caught your senses. Something, different. Something…intoxicating. Was Yondu wearing cologne? Whatever it was, it was messing with your head. It smelled like the forest back home – right after the rain, blended with tones of spices and notes of musk. “Well, why the hell not?” He seemed a little surprised. Hurt, maybe? You spun around on your desk chair to face him, “Hmm…. let me put it to you this way: I am not about to be the only female on the ship in a room full of drunk Ravagers. I already get harassed and catcalled on a daily basis, Yondu! Why on Earth would I want to put myself in a situation like that?” “You Terrans sure do use the strangest expressions. We ain’t on Earth…uh….Terra I mean.” He said with a chuckle. The small chuckle at his own words made you giggle too. “Well, regardless, I just don’t think it would be very wise of me to put myself in a bad spot, that’s all.” “Well I’ll be there. I can make sure no one bothers you too much. Then would you go?” “I don’t know Yondu…I mean Geff is great and all but –“  You were cut off by loud laughter and heavy footsteps of several ravagers going past your office door. A lot of the boys were already headed to the bar to get the party started. “ – but I don’t want to be a bother. Besides, if you show even the slightest bit of protective behavior around me, couldn’t that start rumors? Wouldn’t they think it was odd? Some of these guys really talk…”

Yondu scoffed with a slight wave of his hand. “Who cares what these idiots think. I’m the Captain, and I can protect whoever the hell I feel like. Besides, how am I supposed to keep my shit in order without my assistant who helps with our operations? The boys will probably understand that their payouts could get disrupted if they mess with our lil’ secretary, right? Everybody knows you don’t mess with a Ravager’s units.” He finished with a wink. That wink…that smirk…his scent…oh no. Your head starts to feel fuzzy. Your sternum is growing tight, and butterflies explode by the thousands in your stomach. You feel like your arms are floating. You start to notice that your head seems to be wobbling a little bit and you find yourself staring at his lips. Stop being stupid! Say something! Get a grip! His smile starts to falter after a moment or two. “Uhh…you alright?”

Your clear your throat a little louder than you wanted to, and manage to say with a shaky voice, “Uhh, yeah, no, yeah…I’m – I’m fine. I guess I’m just a little tired is all. But, fine. I’ll go, but only for a few drinks. I’m not staying out all night! I have more things I want to get updated in the system before you and Kraglin start gathering intel on your next mission.” “Fine, fine. Just a few drinks.” He motions with both his hands in the air. It did not turn out, however, to be just a few drinks. It started out that way, but the more you drank, the more you wanted to be close to him. The alcohol was making you feel a little too confident. The captain was drinking too, of course, but Centaurians have to drink quite a bit before they really start to feel anything. He was on his fifth glass of whiskey for the night, and you were on your third. You were definitely tipsy, but not terribly drunk. The scent coming off him just kept smelling better and better, your senses were stirred, and you wanted to dive into him. You are sitting next to each other on the couch in the lounge that was connected to the bar. You both listen to stories and jokes being told by Tullk, Oblo, and Kraglin. Laugher is plentiful, and you couldn’t be happier. Then, you feel your Captain move next to you as he throws his arm over the back of the couch behind you. The shift in the cushions causes you to inadvertently lean closer to him. Your cheeks turn bright pink and your heart starts pounding. You sit up straight, put your drink down on the table and politely excuse yourself. The others were too drunk to notice, or care, but Yondu notices. After a moment or two he gets up and follows you to the bar. You hastily get yourself a tall glass of water, and chug it down. “What was that about back there? You alright?” He asked. “Feelin’ sick?” “No, no I’m fine. I just think it’s time I headed back to my cabin. I need to get some sleep. I have an early start tomorrow.” You said as you put your glass down on the bar. Yondu eyes you suspiciously, but doesn’t press the matter. “Can I at least walk you back? These boy’s is pretty drunk. I don’t want you to run into any trouble.” “Yeah, I guess that would be alright.” You fiddle with the empty glass on the bar in front of you. What am I even doing? Do I really have feelings for him? Is this seriously happening? What the hell am I supposed to do?! Your job on the ship is simple: free up the first mate’s time by entering new recruit information, keep transmission logs up to date, work up data sheets for new missions, and keep an updated archive on clients, easy heist planets, kree intel, etc… That was it! Nowhere in your job description are you supposed to fall for your Captain, your boss! “Well…should we be headin’ out?” Yondu’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You looked over at him, his eyes were touched with slight concern, confusion maybe. “Captain, I….” You began, but the words just stopped coming out. You close your mouth and shake your head. “Never mind, I’m ready. Let’s go.” You both walk slowly back your cabin. Yondu is silent, as are you. The only sound to be heard is both yours and Yondu’s boots clunking down the walkways of the Eclector. When you approach your door, you hesitate.

“Goodnight Captain, thank you for walking me back. I appreciate it…and thank you for having my back tonight. I was able to actually relax and have a nice time.” You begin to open your door and walk in when you feel a large, warm hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at his hand, and your eyes trail up his arm to his shoulder, and then to his face. You both lock eyes, and your heart stops. “Why do you keep callin’ me that? Captain. You haven’t really called me that much since you boarded for the first time a few months back.” “I – I’m sorry. I just…you’re the Captain.” He took his hand from your shoulder, “Yeah, I know that. But it just feels wrong somehow. You typically call me by my name when we ain’t around the crew.” You couldn’t help but smile a little. “Alright, Yondu.” You said with a slight chuckle. “Is that better?” “Yeah. I like it when you call me by my name.” A small tinge of purple comes to his cheeks. “But don’t go tellin’ anybody that! You still gotta’ call me Captain or Sir around the crew.” “Hahaha, of course. I promise I won’t tell a soul. Cross my heart.” You used your index finger to draw an X over your chest. “I swear, you Terrans are odd…I don’t even know what that means.” You giggle again, “It means I’m serious. As serious as I can be. I won’t tell anyone. You have a reputation and status to maintain with your crew, and I completely understand that.” You turn and step into your cabin. Looking over your shoulder you smile a small, bashful smile at him. “Goodnight, Yondu.” With that, you closed your door. Yondu stood at the closed door and quietly said, “Goodnight, Darlin’.” He continued to stand there, frozen in place. What the hell was that? Why do I feel funny? My heart is pounding, my head is reeling. I care about what she calls me? Since when? Darlin’? When have I ever called anyone that? He shook his head to free himself of where he stood, and walked back to his quarters. You laid in your bed that night, unable to sleep. A big, stupid grin would not leave your lips no matter how hard you tried to get rid of it. Oh. My. Gosh. I cannot believe this. I can’t believe how hard this hit me. He’s so unbelievably handsome. His scent was so intoxicating. I didn’t know he wore cologne? And that smile?! Who knew blue could look so damn good. You giggled out loud to yourself. “I have a crush on the Captain. I have a huge freakin’ crush on Yondu Udonta. What the hell?!” You continued to giggle to yourself until you heard a group of footsteps going past your door. More ravagers were headed to bed from the party. You quickly covered your mouth as if someone could possibly hear you. Once the footsteps were gone, you continued to smile and giggle like a little girl. “Wow. What on earth and am I going to do? How do I even begin to handle this?” You said to yourself. Your mind raced, and sleep eluded you all night. Meanwhile, the Captain wasn’t sleeping much either. You kept popping up in his head. Every time he would close his eyes, you appeared. It wasn’t until tonight that he realized that you looked incredible in your maroon leathers. He had always thought you were attractive, ever since he and Kraglin decided to hire you when they met you on Krylor. But this was a whole new level of attraction. It made him feel…different. He had never felt this way before, he felt vulnerable. He did not like it one bit! But on the other hand, he did? It was starting to piss him off. He threw the furs and blankets from his body and got out of bed. He picked up a communicator brace from his nightstand and pushed a few buttons. It beeped a few times, and Kraglin’s sleepy voice could be heard. “Yes, sir? Everythin’ alright?” “Boy, get to my quarters. I need to talk to ya. I’m havin’ a problem.” “Right away sir.” Yondu shut the brace off and tossed it back on the table. Within a few minutes there was a knock on the door. Yondu got up and walked to the door, flinging it open. Kraglin rubbed his eye with a fist and yawned. “What’s goin’ on Sir?” “What’s goin’ on is I need to talk to ya. Maybe you’ll know what to do…get in here!” Yondu yanked Kraglin into the room and slammed the door shut. “Siddown.” He muttered as he pushed his desk chair to the first mate. Yondu sat on the bed and fiddled with his hands for a moment. “Sir?” Kraglin asked. “What do you need help with? Somethin’ goin’ on with the crew?” “No, but there is something goin’ on…I’ve been feeling funny all night. Ever since I went with y/n to the bar for Geff’s party, my head has been fuzzy, my chest is tight, my hands are all shaky and I can’t sleep! It’s pissin’ me off! I don’t know what the problem is. I only went with her to make sure the boys didn’t do nothin’ stupid, but now I can’t think straight! Every time I close my damn eyes, I see her!” A smirk appeared on Kraglin’s face, and he started snickering at the Captain. “What?! The hell is so funny?!” Yondu barked. Kraglin’s snickering turned into full blown laughing. He couldn’t help it. Was his Captain so oblivious? “Sir, sir, I’m sorry. You really have no idea what this is?” He asked. “No! If I did, I wouldn’t have woke you up to help me figure it out, damn it!” “Sir, it sounds to me that you got bit.” Kraglin joked. “Bit? Bit by what? Like a bug or somethin’?” “Ohhhh yeah, it’s happened to me before too. It’s a nasty little sucker.” He said with a grin. “Okay, so what do I do? Am I getting’ sick or somethin’?” “Yeah, you’re sick all right. Love sick.” The first mate said with the biggest shit eatin’ grin on his face. “Lovesick? What the hell is that? That ain’t a real thing.” Yondu snorted. “Sure is, Sir. From the sounds of it, you got bit by the love bug. The only way to cure it is to get some lovin’ from the person who sent it after ya.” Kraglin couldn’t believe this was happening to his captain. This was too good. Of course, he wanted to help him out, but he wanted to taunt him first. “What on Earth are you talkin’ about boy?! Just spit it out already!” The Captain shouted. A goofy little smile appeared on his lips as he realized he just used your expression. Damn it, girl. “Alright, alright.” Kraglin said between laughs. “Cap’n, you’re in love. Plain and simple. It sounds to me like you just realized it tonight.” “Love? I don’t love nobody. I ain’t never been in love before. This can’t be right…” Yondu started searching his hands for some kind of alternative answer. “Anyone can fall in love, Cap’n. I know I have. But that was a long time ago, before I joined the crew. It really ain’t a big deal, honest. Tell me, when you think of y/n, what do you feel?” Yondu pondered Kraglin’s words for a few moments. “I feel – happy. Warm? Maybe a little nervous. Unsure of myself, ya know? I wanna touch her, make her smile, make sure she’s safe and happy, hold her hands... kiss her.” The realization hit him like a blazing meteor. “I wanna kiss her? What?! I’ve never cared about that sentimental crap before!” Kraglin just shook his head and looked down at the floor. “Cap’n, love is a strange and mysterious force. It can be exhilarating. Maybe you should investigate and find out if she feels the same way. Could be worth a shot. Who knows? Could lead to somethin’.” Yondu looked confused. “Like what?” “Heh, I don’t know, happiness?” Kraglin shrugged his shoulders and stood. “I hope that helps Sir. I’m gonna head back to bed if you don’t need anything else.” “Yeah, sure, boy. Go on.” “Night, Cap’n.” The first mate headed toward to door, but before he walked out, he heard the Captain’s voice behind him, “Hey Krags, uh, thanks.” “No problem, Sir.” Kraglin walked out of the Captain’s quarters and quietly closed the door. Yondu got back into bed, stared at the ceiling above him and smiled. Love huh? Well, ain’t that some shit.

[kaz3313]

Part Two, of sharing TGCF Danganronpa AU,

Brief note. Hua Cheng is the protagonist which is why each person’s description shows how they feel about him (< at least in the beginning)~

Ban Yue || Ultimate Herpetologist: Side

Survival Chance: 50%

About Appearance: I totally did not give her the scarf because of Gundham Tanaka and I’m appalled you would assume 🙄🙄 Also, I’m not sure why but I’m obsessed with Ban Yue having blue hair, it’s just correct in my mind.

At the start of the “game”: Ban Yue can’t say she’s not worried- she is- nor can she say she’s not scared- she also is- but she dealt with stressful situations before. Not only that, but these people are friendlier to her then the people she’s used to, they aren’t making fun of her (well this very loud one is definitely shit talking but he’s doing that with everyone and not singling her out), and there is a few people she knows! The lucky student seemed kind, there was a particular look he had… she didn’t know why but she couldn’t help but feel perhaps people had not been so kind to him in the past either. Perhaps, they could get to know each other?

Pei Xu || Ultimate Strategist: Side

Survival Chance: 80%

About Appearance: I didn’t want to make him too casual or formal so I tried something more in between! Did give him a bit of a blue streak because why not <3 Maybe him and Ban Yue dyed their hair together

At the start of the “game”: It was obvious that this was not their average school life. His Uncle gave him one of those ‘be careful’ looks- it’s odd he was only a year older then him yet he acted as his guardian much of the time. It didn’t bother him, instead he focuses on potential allies. Obviously anyone he already knows he has a good read on, which is several people, so he looks to everyone else. One in particular stands out- Hua Cheng. Dresses like a man of wealth, yet he is simply a lucky student. Pei Xu knows many powerful men, but no “Hua Cheng’s” ring a bell. Which could mean he is simply a nobody… better to not underestimate him. On the other side of things, he is amicable and it’s clear Ban Yue see’s him as a non threat- and she has a good read on character. He’ll keep a lookout on him, but there’s definitely other pressing matters at hand.

Ling Wen || Ultimate Secretary: Side

Survival Chance: 75%

About Appearance: She did not look good in a skirt so I simply didn’t give her one- the suit looks good on her I just wish their was more colours. Gave her a “Togami-esk” vibe but outwardly I feel she’d be more bearable

At the start of the “game”: She didn’t waste time learning everyone’s names and talents (expect for the one who was keeping that to himself- she’d look into that later). Some caught her attention, others she could simply put away the information for later. Pei Ming asks her what she thinks of the lucky student. “Trouble. But likely not the one who’s behind this.” Is all she says on the matter.

Lang Qianqui || Ultimate Vigalante: Side

Survival Chance: 40%

About Appearance: I wanted to make him more flashy but none of the clothes fit him well!! Just know he’d have something tiger themed on

At the start of the “game”: Yes! His new classmates! Many of them looked… unhappy. Very… underwhelming. Whatever- he’d focus on the few who did look receptive. “Lucky Student” didn’t seem that big of a talent (was luck even a talent) but he could not judge, so instead he said his warm welcomes. He didn’t enjoy the chill in the air, the off tone of everything, but he assures himself if there is an issue he would find the person responsible. And if need be, take the matter into his own hands.

Rong Guang|| Ultimate Traitor: Side

Survival Chance: 50%

About Appearance: I looked to dear discord for help, as I have not formed in my head what Rong Guang should look like (and when I did he was very sword-ish given his canon). I gave him the cloak for “mysterious guy” reasons.

At the start of the “game”: “And what is your talent”. The question went ignored. Mostly ignored. He kept away from most of the people here, though he did provide his name. However, this classmate of his seemed rather persistent . “I can’t have two people not tell me their talents. That Mu Qing fellow was bad enough. So come on, either you get him to tell me his or you tell me yours” He made it sound like a game. He continued to not answer him. “Well I have your name- that’s enough, Ultimate Traitor” He glared at him, but Hua Cheng had already left to introduce him to someone else. … how did he… what did he know?

Jian Lan || Ultimate Masseuse: Side

Survival Chance: 55%

About Appearance: She dressed up for her first day at Hopes Peak 👏And what does she get?? Stuck in a killing game 😭😭

At the start of the “game”: Being rude would get you no where, that’s where half of these people were doing wrong. They were standoffish, crude, or just plain mean. She could be all of those things- and once she was rather standoffish and crude and mean- but she learned that it got you further if you were just neutral. Be somewhat polite but don’t come off as a push over. Confident but not overbearing. And, in situations that seemed dangerous? Well, don’t get attached to any one of them. Not the people you used to know- nor the people you’re meeting.

BONUS CAUSE HES NOT PART OF THE KILLING GAME BUT HE IS IMPORTANT TO THE AU!! I PROMISE

Yin Yu: Ultimate (none): Side

Survival Chance: 99.9% he isn’t in the killing game but there’s always that small chance~

About Appearance: I! Gave! Him! A! Cool! Mask!! Yep!! Perfect Yin Yu design /hj

At the start of the “game”: … It’s dark. It’s tiring. He’s so fucking annoyed- he wasn’t able to make it in time which means… the location changed. Damn. Well, he’ll have to find them and hope to any higher power that they don’t fall into despair. If that happens, then they’ll be quite a mess.

[wiyodreamz]

𝑽𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 [04]

⌜Nari is a college student at Seokhye University. One day she got off on the wrong foot with Seonghwa, throws her coffee on him and curses him out. Later that day she learns about the internship she signed with Hwa Corp. That same day, she learns that the same guy she threw her coffee at, is the CEO of that company! How will things go for Nari if she has a target on her back from that encounter? ⌟ Office AU

01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Contains: fluff, angst, smut, alcohol drinking, cursing, and more as the story goes on.

Tag list: @seonghwaskitten @reeateez

Warnings: another make out session, dani being sort of annoying, yunho interrupting an almost smut scene (yeah these r the warnings)

A/N: it’s been 84 fucking years. And I’m finally back writing this. Also Nari and Seonghwa are in a established relationship in this chapter :)

Things between Nari and Seonghwa have been going smoothly. They’ve been talking to each other more and a relationship has started to spark between them. Nari has managed to even get into the Top 3, since Seonghwa isn’t making it very difficult for her. They even found a new secretary for him to replace Ms.Lee. But Nari is kind of supiscious of her.

Nari was finishing making herself a cup of coffee in the break room, when someone walked in.

“Do you mind making me some tea?” She looked up and saw Seonghwa with a reusable cup.

“Yeah sure” she said as she smiled and made more hot water. “So how are you liking your new assistant?”

“She’s not as fast with her tasks as Ms.Lee, but she gets them done on time at least” he sighed as he crossed his arms.

“Maybe she has to get used to this place first. It may be different from her different job. Give her a month or two and she’ll get the hang of it” she said as she grabbed a tea bag and poured the hot water into his reusable cup. “Anyways here’s your tea.”

“Thank you” he said as he grabbed the cup from her hands, their fingers grazing a little. They stared at each other and Seonghwa started leaning in closer and closer until she felt his breath on her lips, but someone walked in before he could get a chance to kiss her.

“I didn’t expect you two to be in here” Dani said as she walked by the coffee maker to make her a cup of coffee. She then raise en eyebrow at their flushed expressions. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No! I’ll see you around Mr.Park!” Nari said as she bowed at him and left the break room while sipping her coffee.

Seonghwa then bowed towards Dani and left the break room to go back to his office to finish some paperwork.

“There’s something off about them....” Dani said quietly as she looked at the two of them.

Nari was finishing the last of her report that was due this week. She was typing away with her headphones in and someone suddenly pulled them out.

“What the...” she trailed off and turned behind her and saw Yunho.

“After you finish your report, do you want to go get lunch together?” He asked and she nodded.

“Sure, I just need to finish this last sentence and I’m free to go.”

Nari pressed the ‘submit’ button on her report and then grabbed her bag. “Let’s go. I know this really good place we can go eat at.”

The two were now seated in front of each other with a plate of pizza in front of them.

“How’d you get off of Mr.Park’s bad side?” He asked curiously as he took a bite of his pizza.

“I don’t know. I got lucky I guess” she lied as she stared down at her plate.

“I heard this weird wacky rumor is that you guys are in a relationship” he said and that made her choke on her cola, which made him scared. “Are you okay Nari-ah?”

“Uhm...yeah” she said and took a bite out of her pizza. “Where exactly did you hear that?”

“From Dani. But you really can’t believe what she says without proof, so she’s pretty much telling a tale” he answered.

Nari then sighed in relief and looked up to her friend. “If something was going on between us, I’ll tell you first then Yunho.”

Yunho smiled and continued eating his food. Nari felt bad for lying to him, but it wasn’t a good time to tell him, especially since Dani is highly suspicious of them. She then shook out the thoughts from her head and went along eating with Yunho.

It was now 4 in the afternoon and Nari came home from work. The full paid internships will be announced next week and she was nervous. Even though she was dating Seonghwa, she still wants to prove that she can work better.

Nari heard a knock at her front door and went to open it. She turned the knob and there stood Seonghwa with a bag of ingredients.

“I remembered from a few days ago you were craving stirred udon, so I came to fix it for you” he said with a smile. He was changed out of his suit and now was wearing a white buttoned shirt tucked into some black pants. “Can I come in?”

Nari cleared the way of her front door and he went into the kitchen and put the bags on the counter. Nari sat on one of her bar stools as she watched Seonghwa rummage around her kitchen for a pot to boil water in.

“You need to invest in some cookware” he said as he found a pot to boil water in.

“I would but I burn water” she joked as he chuckled lightly as he put the pot on the stove.

“Since it’ll take a while for the water to bowl, how about we do something to pass the time?” He asked as he walked over towards her and biting his lip.

He grabbed her waist and leaned in. The kiss started out slow and gentle, and then it went to heated in a second. Nari wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her up on the island. His lips then went down towards her neck and leaving red marks along her neck. She whimpered as he found her sweet spot.

“Found it” he whispered as he went back to leaving marks on her. Nari’s hands traveled down towards his shirt and unbuttoned some of his buttons, as Seonghwa was in the process of trying to remove her pants.

Before he could successfully take of her pants, a knock interrupted them. They jumped at the knock and waited for the person to say something.

“Nari-ah! I have the notes you let me borrowed last week! Are you in there or are you sleep?”

It was Yunho. Nari quickly jumped off the counter and fixed her pants that Seonghwa almost took off.

“It’s Yunho! You have to hide!” She whispered as Seonghwa hurriedly buttoned back up his shirt. Nari pushed him in the closet in her living room, where she usually keeps her old coats and jackets and other things.

As she closed the door, she heard the code being entered and Yunho entering. “Were you sleep?”

Nari shook her head and then hid her neck after she saw it in the mirror in the living room. “I wasn’t sleep, I was just busy putting something in the closet.”

He put the notes down on her coffee table and walked towards her. “Why are you holding your neck? Did you strain it?”

“No. It just hurts from me overworking” she said. “You should go. We have exams and you should be studying really hard.”

“Yeah, but I’m also excited to see who gets the paid internships. I hope me and you get it” he said.

“Same” she agreed. Yunho bid a goodbye and closed the door. Nari looked out her window to make sure he was gone from view and then Seonghwa stepped out and looked over at the stove and the water was now boiling.

“Looks like it’s time for me to cook and after we finish eating, we can continue what we were doing before Yunho interrupted.”

It was now the week of the paid internships. People have been working hard over the weeks to get it, but Dani kept pushing the objective that Seonghwa and Nari are indeed dating, but people just called her crazy.

Hongjoong came by her desk and gave her a coffee. “I know about you and Seonghwa.”

Nari choked on her coffee and looked up at him with wide eyes. “H-how’d you know?”

“Did you forget we’re friends? He told me about it a few nights ago over a drink” he said. “Make sure to keep it a secret if you get the internship, the women here love to talk.”

Nari thanked him and continued to drink her coffee. Sunji and Dani came back from a meeting they were in and sat down at their desks.

“Sunji-ah, didn’t you see Seonghwa and Nari eating dinner together a few days ago?” Dani asked as she whispered towards Sunji. Sunji looked nervous as she looked over to Nari.

“Dani, I don’t know about this...” Sunji trailed off and then was cut by Dani saying something rude to her.

“Why is so crazy to find out stuff about me?” Nari asked as she bit her lip nervously.

Now it was 4 P.M. everyone huddled around Seonghwa to found out who got the paid internship. Nari held her hands nervously as he looked over the paper.

“You guys worked hard over the months, but like I said in the beginning, I’m choosing half of you. So if your name is called, you got the internship.”

“Choi San, Jeong Yunho, Kang Sunji, Moon Nari, and Lee Dowoon. Those 5 worked harder than anyone I’ve ever seen and it was only fair to choose them” he said.

Nari was happy that she was chosen. She looked over towards Dani who looked angrily.

“Yah! Mr.Park! How could you choose Nari over me? I worked harder than her in all the things. I did every task I was supposed to do!”

“If you call spreading rumors, talking bad about your other peers, plus my employees I hired. Then I guess that’s your definitions of tasks” he said as he crossed his arms. “My decisions are final.”

Nari smiled at Seonghwa and then Mr.Park and grabbed her things. When she was on the first floor of the office, she felt a shove behind her and an angry Dani.

“Did you really sleep with Mr.Park just so you could get the internship?” She asked angrily. “I never knew the Moon Nari is that kind of girl.”

“Dani just admit it. You’re just angry you couldn’t get what you want this time. And besides, you barely did any of the work, Sunji did your work” Nari said and walked out of the building.

“You’re going to regret saying that Nari.”

“You’ve done well these past months” Seonghwa said as he took a sip of his wine.

Nari had an identical glass and took a sip of hers as well. She was too distracted on what Dani said to her to even hear what Seonghwa was saying to her.

“Are you okay?” He asked as he caressed her cheek worriedly.

“Hmm. Yeah, just thinking about some things” she said.

“What were you thinking about?” He asked.

“Nothing. It’s just what Dani said to me.”

“What did she say?”

“Oh it wasn’t important. Just her talking nonsense.”

“How about I go run the two of us a nice, warm bath and fall asleep for the night. How does that sound?” He asked and she nodded.

“That sounds nice.”

[luvknow]

anything for you | lee felix

genre: rich kid!felix x reader | rich kid au ; friends-to-lovers au ; food ; swearing warning ; alcohol warning ; drinking and driving warning ; abuse warning summary: felix’s family owns the largest restaurant franchise in the country and your family works under them. you two have spent your entire lives together and somehow you’ve turned into mini versions of your parents with a boss and secretary type relationship. it wasn’t until last year on his birthday when he tells you he loves you while drunk that your friendship dynamic dramatically changes, and it’s not for the better when he pretends it never happened. wc: 11.2k

You and Felix were two peas in a pod.

From the moment you two were born until your last months at university, you were tied in this relationship for life. Were you two dating? No, of course not! Were you two friends? Well…

Your friendship with Felix was complicated because it was kind of… bought. There was no way to put it lightly, that was simply the origin of your relationship. It all started when Felix’s rich ass CEO of a Dad hired your Dad to be his right hand man in all decision-making aspects of the company he ran. You thought of your Dad as a Chancellor to the King, which I mean was still a high position in the company, but your peers around you thought otherwise.

You attended all the same schools as Felix (thanks to his Dad’s connections), attended the same after school activities (also thanks to his Dad), and even attended the same overseas summer camps (thanks to his Dad who owned the plane that flew everyone). Even then, after being on the same level as Felix for over twenty years, everyone saw you as Felix’s Secretary who waited on his every word. As a kid, your Dad was transparent about how all the privileges you had were all because of Felix and his family and that you should always treat them with respect. And as an impressionable kid, of course you took that a little too literal.

Your Secretary title started in Pre-School when Felix was crying because he forgot his toy to take a nap with at home, so you offered yours. Those small, kind gestures turned into getting him drinks and snacks whenever he wanted, to tutoring him in subjects he had trouble with, to completing essays he didn’t want to complete, and you did it all without ever complaining.

So despite receiving all the same opportunities as all the other inheritance-dependent kids, you were the bottom-feeder of your entire grade.

“_____ ~” Felix whined while entering your apartment. “I’m hungry.”

You exited your bedroom fixing the last couple buttons on your dress shirt. You’re not surprised to see him in the least, as you’re used to him coming in whenever he pleased since he owned the other copy of the apartment keys. “I have food in the fridge.”

“I don’t want a huge meal before the shareholders meeting.”

“You know where the snacks are, what are you waiting for?”

“I just wanted to ask just in case.”

The excited boy wasted no time invading your pantry and grabbing a handful of fruit snack packets, some he stuffed in his dress pants pockets and some he immediately tore open. He made himself home by flopping on your couch, also known as his second bed, and scrolled through his rotation of dating apps while waiting for his dear friend to finish getting ready.

“Don’t lie down like that!” you nagged. “Your pants are going to get all wrinkly!”

Rolling his eyes, Felix sat up straight, to which you immediately fixed random strands of hair  that strayed away from the rest of his slick-back style.

“What are you, my mom?” he mumbled, swatting away your hands.

“Don’t you know how important this meeting is? We could land our internships today.”

“Do you really think I need to worry about that?”

“I guess not… You don’t even want to try out another company for a semester? Scope out your partners?”

“That’s exactly why I shouldn’t be doing that. I’ll look so shady! You probably shouldn’t be thinking about doing that either.”

A small pout emerges from your lips. As much as you owe the Lees and their company your life, you’d like to think the possibility of freeing yourself from their financial shackles was high, even if it was for just one semester. But Felix was right - in order to avoid any spying controversies, it was probably best to not even think about another company. Basically, you were trapped with this company for life.

“Ready to go?” Felix broke the silence. He was the first to leave your couch and head for the door without even bothering to wait for you to catch up.

When you finished locking your front door, you caught Felix looking at your business casual outfit a little too closely. If you weren’t so quick with your reflexes, you would have bumped right into his oddly bulging chest (has he been working out lately?). Still, his foxy eyes scanned you up and down, slowly and intimately.

“Wh-What are you doing…?” you asked nervously. “Is my outfit too bland? It’s ugly, isn’t it? I can’t really glam up for a business meeting, you know.”

“Chill, why are you being hella defensive right now?” he teased. “No, you look good. Honest. Good enough to stand next to me, at least. I wouldn’t stand next to Father if I were you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You kind of fit that secretary stereotype you like so much. Especially since you’ll be following me around all day.”

“I do not!”

“Yeah, ok,” Felix tossed you the keys to his expensive black sports car, to which you were also covered as a driver by his insurance. For someone who owns several expensive cars, he sure hates driving them. “Shotty.”

“There’s only two of us…”

The car ride was mostly silent other than the deafening rap music that blared through the subwoofers. Felix could tell you were nervous depending on how talkative you were. If you were blabbering on about how you looked or something arbitrary for at least fifteen minutes, you were probably nervous about a date or maybe a quiz that was coming up in class. If you were silent, he knew that the matter was much more serious. Silence meant that you believed no matter what you did to change yourself or improve upon past mistakes, there was no hope and that whatever was coming was absolute.

“Don’t worry about today,” he reassured after reading your mind. “It’s not like you’re talking in front of hundreds of people at the meeting.”

“Easy for you to say, you’re used to this type of crowd.”

“Are you not? We have class with those good-for-nothing kids of theirs, it’s like the same thing!”

“It is definitely not the same thing! These people have power and they’re smart! The uni is full of idiots who got in with bribes!”

“And you don’t think our shareholders do their fair share of bribing?”

“Of course they do, and that’s what makes them even more terrifying, Felix! They have that kind of power to either buy my entire life or buy out and make sure I never see anyone’s faces again!”

“You say it like you haven’t been shackled to me for over twenty years.”

“That’s different ok, I was a commodity, I couldn’t change anything as a fetus.”

“And now you think you can?”

“I mean, I’d like to think so. Am I crazy?”

“No, not at all.” Gingerly, Felix patted your head like a little kid. “You’ll be just fine ~ I can even introduce you to the ones you want to talk to if you’d like.”

“That’s ok. I’d like to try on my own.”

He understood completely. How he wished he could have that little bit of freedom… To even think about leaving the company behind to work for someone else was blasphemous.

The shareholders meeting was a social event like no other - like, it might as well be a ball with all the people attending and all the press surrounding and being in the building. You pulled up to the normal valet guy who only chuckled at your shocked expression. Felix, on the other hand, wasn’t all that surprised and was rather annoyed at how something as simple as a meeting was getting this much attention.

After dodging all of the press and making it through several thresholds to reach the conference room, you helped Felix prepare for his opening speech.

“You seem more nervous than me,” Felix teased while you quickly smoothed out the wrinkles in his jacket.

“I'm nervous all the damn time.”

“Well, can you quit it before I start sweating? This outfit was expensive. Do you have my speech?”

Searching through your trusty bottomless bag that held everything from tips from your part-time at the cafe to snacks in case Felix got whiny, you pulled out a medium-sized notepad with his opening speech written on it.

“Really, _____? Hand written?”

“My sentences sound better when I write them down instead of typing it!”

“At least it’s legible.” Felix’s Dad announced over the microphone on stage that the meeting will begin shortly. He saw the both of you standing off to the side and waved happily, to which you both could only wave back. The boy in front of you sighed, and it’s the first time today he seemed only slightly nervous. He turned to you. “How do I look?”

How did the most handsome boy you’ve come to know look this morning? Dressed in navy with a white button-down, ears bejeweled and shining in the bright lights, his eyes and his smile sly and foxy, so of course to you he was the only one in the room who you had your eyes on because no one else could ever compare. That’s how it’s always been. 

Gentle fingers startled Felix, only for him to realize you were fixing his monogrammed silver tie clip. “You look just fine.”

“‘Just fine’? Not the sexiest man in the entire world?”

“I’d hardly call you a man…”

“Welcome to the YONGBOK Inc. Shareholders Meeting,” greeted your Father while on stage. Felix noticeably cringed at the sound of his birth name slash company name. “We will begin this meeting with an opening remark from Mr. Lee’s son, Felix.”

“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whispered with two thumbs up.

A loud round of applause erupted from the audience filled with press and shareholders. Lee Felix was named one of the most influential people under twenty-five this year and has consistently landed spots on Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list so yes, Felix was always highly anticipated as a guest to fashion shows and charity balls and even more so as a speaker for his future company. Though it was only less than a minute ago he was jittery with nerves, the second he stepped on stage in front of the podium, it was as if he was born to be a public speaker.

“Good morning, honored guests,” he began in his deep voice that startled unfamiliar guests..

His speech - your speech - wasn’t that long, since it was a simple welcome to all the rich people who gave the Lee’s their money. Regardless of its length, Felix somehow drifted his gaze towards the right where you stood. You, who always stood by him and was his friend through everything, stood at the sidelines giving him your unwavering support, even through this minor milestone. Despite this huge corporate building being the last place you want to be, still, you were here by his side.

In your eyes though, it looked like maybe his stage fright was worse than you expected, so you gave him two thumbs up again for reassurance. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking because he seemed totally fine, in fact his execution was quite flawless, it was just… Why wouldn’t he look into the cameras? The stage lights that shined on him showcased the bright grin he gave when he saw how confused you looked.

“We will continue to work hard together so that YONGBOK will continue being the best restaurant franchise in the country,” was the motto of the company and how Felix ended the speech. With a deep bow and a wink for fan service, he exited the stage.

He fell into your arms clutching his heart. “Ugh, that was so scary!”

“You did fine,” you mumbled, quickly pushing him off before any cameras caught you. Still, he swung an arm around your shoulders unapologetically.

“All right, let’s ditch this popsicle stand.”

“You know we can’t do that or our Fathers will kill us.”

“You think I haven’t died and resurrected like a rising phoenix dozens of times?”

“Leave if you want, it’s your suicide.”

“You won’t come with me?” the handsome boy pouted.

“I’m not actually your secretary, you know.”

“I know, but I’ll be so lonely… Did you at least bring a snack?”

Felix decided to stay when he realized you weren’t kidding about wanting to sit through the entire meeting. Your right ear was focused on all the questions shareholders and the press had while your left ear focused on the child you were babysitting playing with the chocolate bar wrapper. Eventually the conflicting sounds merged into one when the lack of caffeine in your veins made it hard to concentrate for long hours.

“Bet you wished you left with me a couple hours ago, huh?” Felix teased once everything was over.

“Whatever. The important thing is that it’s over now.”

“Are you going to go talk with some of the shareholders?”

That was the original plan - to land an internship at a different company and slowly but surely escape the bubble that is the Lees’ world, but what was the use of making life harder on yourself if you’ll just be seen as a spy? What was the use in anything anymore when your life was determined the moment you came out of the womb?

You shook your head tiredly. “Nah, I think I’ll save that for another time.”

Felix linked his arm with yours like you were the gentleman and he was the lady. The warmth of another body so close to yours was only familiar when it was his, and you wished your body was unbiased and rejected anything within a five feet radius. “You wanna hang out with me that much?”

“Who said I’m hanging out with you? I’m driving you home.”

“No come on, let’s hang out today! Neither of us have class and when was the last time it was just the two of us?”

By ‘just the two of you’, he meant when was the last time you and him hung out without any business involved? When was the last time you and him had pizza together after a long week of midterms and studying, or the last time he picked you up from your part time at the cafe to have a cup of coffee, or the last time you talked about anything other than being ordered around by the Prince himself?

The answer to that question was last year on his birthday when he got too wasted and you didn’t have the strength to carry him up his multi-story mansion, so instead you carried him up to your humble apartment and let him crash on your bed the whole weekend (insisted upon staying the whole weekend because all the puking made him ‘weak’ and ‘dehydrated’).

Truth be told, you loved Felix’s company, whether it was business or personal. The hesitation was because you wondered if he truly felt the same way, especially since he never spoke about that night on his birthday. That night, a lot was said, but nothing was ever confirmed, so you were left in limbo while Felix managed to live in ignorant bliss.

It was better this way.

“I guess it’s been a while…” you trailed off.

“It’s been forever, love. Can we go to your cafe? I’m really craving the strawberry milk latte thing.”

“Anything for you, Felix ~”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

“Felix,” the haunting voice of his father echoed from behind. “Come here for a second -”

“That’s our cue!” The wild blond took you by the hand and sprinted out the conference room doors before his dad could catch him.

As if already predicting the time of events for the shareholders meeting, the valet already had the sports call pulled up and tossed you the keys for maximum efficiency.

“Hey, you’re hand-eye coordination is getting better!” Felix teased while hopping in the front seat.

“And your fear for your dad is not.”

“It’s not fear, it’s pure distaste. Completely different.”

The short ride to your cafe was anything but quiet as Felix filled you in on his most recent Tinder match. The story was something along the lines of ‘she was hot, but kind of stupid’, and you weren’t exactly sure what came after that because, well, you didn’t care. Hearing about the guy you were in love with slash your childhood friend slash the guy whose family bought out your family’s current dating app situation wasn’t exactly the most ideal setting, but hey, it beats sitting in that conference room for any longer.

The cafe was surprisingly not as busy around lunch time, even though it was Friday. Other than a few customers, the only other person in the cafe was your coworker Wooyoung who was busy dramatically singing to whatever drama OST was playing over the intercom.

“Are you making it?” Felix asked, referring to his strawberry latte.

“I wasn’t planning on it since I’m not working.”

“... Can you?”

“Are you serious!?”

“The last time someone other than you made my drinks, they tasted watery!”

He wasn’t wrong - a lot of the baristas here were a bit lazy with the job. You and Wooyoung were among the very few who genuinely cared for the cafe, the menu, and its customers. You supposed you could take a moment to step away from Felix - you sort of missed the barista behind the counter, anyways.

“Sit tight,” you told Felix, who obeyed happily at his favorite table.

Wooyoung with his cutesy cheeky grin chucked one of the ugly brown work aprons right at your face, to which you only whipped right back.

“I’m not working and you know that!”

“Can’t a guy dream to have the same shift with his favorite coworker? What are you doing here then?”

“Making a strawberry latte.”

“For yourself or for His Highness over there?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

Wooyoung knew all too well what your relationship was like with Felix and that was because he was also one of the elite, also known as a trust fund son. Wooyoung and Felix were from the same side of a coin, reigning from families whose net worth could buy out entire towns. The circle of the elite had a lot of members, but it was tight-knit, so everyone knew everything about everyone else. You were included in Felix’s dossier.

“You know, _____, you are your own person,” Wooyoung tisked as he hovered over you making the fruity drink. It was as simple as pouring milk over some strawberry compote (Felix liked it when there was extra compote) and shaking vigorously.

“You telling me that whenever I come in with him totally makes it more valid than the last time.”

“You know I’m just looking out for you.” His soft fingers gently pinched your cheeks. “You’re so sour today, I kind of like it.”

“Aren’t you known for liking people who have zero interest in you?”

“Exactly, so you better watch your attitude or I’ll steal you away from Mr. Lee Felix ~”

“You’re so weird!” Even so, Wooyoung stole a kiss on your bruised cheek before helping the customer at the counter. The aftermath left your face burning up, even though you were used to his flirtatiousness by now.

Of course Felix saw the entire interaction. Though he tried to hide behind his phone, he made sure to still have a view of whatever you and that spoiled ‘I-own-a-yacht’ Wooyoung were doing. You were much different around him than you were with that cheeky bastard behind the counter. With Felix, you were strict, quiet, and pouty, but with Wooyoung you were able to smile more and joke around and even laugh when you flicked whipped cream in his hair. In those short five minutes, that was a type of you he hasn’t been able to see since high school.

But now? You were so cold and distant. He could barely hang out with you without it seeming like it was some business meeting. What changed?

Felix watched you walk back to him holding his pink drink with your cheeks to match its color.

“I didn’t know you two were so close,” he said bitterly after you both exited the cafe.

“We work together, of course we’re close. You’re welcome, by the way.”

You’ll take his happy humming as he inhaled the latte as a thank you. “You talk about how much you hate some of your coworkers all the time!”

“I guess I do… but he’s different.”

“Of course he is…”

The handsome and pouty boy beside you did his best to ignore your accusing glare. “Do you have some beef with him, or something.”

“No,” he said simply in between gulps. “I just don’t like him.”

“You don’t like any boy I talk to.”

“Exactly.”

“So what happens when I really like someone? Do they need your ‘Lee Seal of Approval’?”

“Yup.”

You sighed heavily. “Why do you enjoy making my life so hard?”

“Because I love you, that’s why!”

You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Felix has said ‘I love you’ since his birthday party. With his special day coming up again, the words hit harder than usual, even when you knew he was joking, but no ‘I love you’ hurt more than the first time he said it last year before he passed out on your bed.

Speaking of which, “Sooo ~ Guess what next week is ~?” Felix sang cheekily after hopping in the car.

“Uh, midterms week?”

“No ~”

“Buy one get one free soju at the karaoke place?”

“No…”

“Oh wait, isn’t it Han’s birthday next week?” He knew you were trying to push his buttons, but it clearly worked by the way he was glaring at you. “Yeah, that must be it.”

“So mean…”

“Are you two throwing a joint party again?”

“Yeah, but I think we’re skipping the club scene and throwing it at his house instead.”

“Wow, the Lee Felix is tired of the club scene?” you scoffed. “Never thought I would see the day.”

“Maybe it’s just my eyesight getting worse - I’d like to see who I’m hitting on for once.” One sharp stab in your heart. “Will you help me plan?”

Did you really have any other choice? “Of course.”

“Yes ~ This’ll totally top last year’s party!”

You sure hoped so, and you hoped you wouldn’t remember a single moment of it.

--

Planning for the party didn’t start until a couple days before the big date. Since Jisung was hosting, it was Felix’s responsibility to come up with all the decor and the theme and literally all the smaller bits and pieces of the party.

“Honey, I’m home ~” Felix sang as he walked into your apartment. An aroma of fresh spices and cooked meat and roasted vegetables hit his nose upon entering. “Whoa, are you cooking!?”

“We can’t plan on an empty stomach,” you stated the obvious. Immediately, a bowl of rice and the fixings was handed to the grinning boy.

“I love it when you cook. I haven’t eaten your cooking in a while.”

“I didn’t know you liked my cooking,” you blushed. “I haven’t cooked for you that often.”

“It’s because we’re both always so busy or we just eat the restaurant’s food when we’re lazy.” A happy hum came from his lips. “You have a mad talent for this, you know.”

“Do I?”

“Of course! The Boy with the God Tongue himself said so!” Being the future heir of the country’s largest restaurant franchise meant ridiculous chef-related nicknames, to which Felix enjoyed whole-heartedly. “You know this means I’m never going to let you leave YONGBOK.”

“Can you stop, you’re so embarrassing, it’s not that amazing!”

“You stop! Quit undermining your talents.”

“If it’s so good, what do you like about it?”

“For one, there’s tons of balance between the flavors. It’s also not as salty, which is what some of the chefs in some locations are having trouble with lately. But the best part is that it feels like home when I eat your cooking.”

“Like home? Like… as if your in-house chef was cooking it?”

Felix chuckled cutely. “No, I mean it feels like someone who loves me very much made this with lots of care.”

You’re too stunned to say anything right away. It felt as if Felix caught you in his trap and was forcing you to admit something that he knew from the very start. But now was not the time nor was it the place. As a response, you turned away and chugged the rest of your glass of water.

“Right,” you cleared your throat awkwardly. “G-Glad you liked it.”

Felix wondered why you wouldn’t look at him. “S-So, let’s get started?”

You took a bowl of food for yourself and refilled Felix’s before settling down at the table. “Do you have an idea for a theme?”

“Ok, hear me out - casino themed?”

“Isn't that underage gambling? Sounds super illegal to me.”

“Right, right… Ok, how about, uh, a masquerade?”

“Not bad, but a little cliche, no?”

“But it’s so sexy! Classy clothes, bejeweled masks -”

“Choreographed waltzing?”

“Yes! For the first half of course, then we’ll probably bump the real shit after a couple of drinks.”

“Hm, I actually like that.” You entered the theme into your notes. “Cool, we have a theme down. Now for all the decoration…”

That itself took about an hour. Imagine, talking about banners and balloon arches, and personalized masks for a whole hour with the most indecisive human being alive. How he’s expected to make major decisions for a multi-million dollar company one day, you’ll never know.

“Ugh,” you were over it, at least for another hour. You couldn’t take comparing different shades of gold and different grades of champagne anymore. Your couch was supposed to be your safe space away from Felix, but he followed you like a puppy and laid his head on your lap.

“This weekend is going to be so much fun! Did you get me a gift yet ~?”

“Uh, maybe…”

“What is it?”

“It’s a surprise, silly.”

“Can I at least get a hint?”

“Probably the cheapest gift you’ll get.”

“Hey.” Felix silenced any doubt you had about your gift by taking one of your hands in his and holding it over his chest. He closed his eyes, tired from the day, tired by your constant doubts, tired of it all. “You know I don’t care about that kind of stuff when it comes to you.”

“I know, but I do.”

“Well, don’t. My favorite gifts have always been from you.”

“Even more than the diamond chain from Chan?”

“... Your gifts are my favorite after that one.” Your free hand poked his freckled cheek, causing him to laugh and smile brighter than the sun. Lying here with you made him happy. “I miss hanging out with you like this.”

“We hang out all the time!”

“Not like this. We never just chill out together and not worry about anything. We’re always worrying about something, especially since we started uni.”

“Uni sort of defines our future, so of course there’s tons to worry about.”

“Not for me. My life has been predetermined. If you think about it, uni doesn’t define your future, either.”

“I wish you didn’t tell me that,” you groaned. “You’re so right. What’s the point when the two of us are just going to take over our Father’s positions, anyways!?”

“Does our future together sound that miserable to you?” he teased. You wished he didn’t word it that way.

“Not miserable, but doesn’t it suck that we don’t have that sort of freedom? You and I have had our lives predetermined since birth!”

“Perhaps it was fate that you would be my Chancellor and I would be your King,” Felix snickered.

“Call it whatever you want, but where’s the joy we could get from spontaneity and disorder?”

“Good point. But I think you and I will find that joy just fine.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. Life will always be a joy if I’m with you.” A tired smile spread across his lips. “You and I make a disorderly pair.”

You and him were definitely a disorderly pair. It was like you two were in a modern-day forbidden friendship that was only seen in royal fairy tales. Felix was the Prince, the apple of everyone’s eye, the boy with the highest ranking just below the King. You were the lowly common person who devoted their life to the castle and serving the royal family. Somehow, even with the drastic gap between your social classes, you both found each other and became inseparable. 

Through childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood, the time spent together naturally formed your feelings for Felix to nothing less than love. You were the number one witness of seeing him laugh, smile, cry, and scream through all his happiness, sadness, and anger. You were the only one who knew the exact number of freckles that dusted his cheeks. You knew what specific snacks he wanted for certain craving occasions, his favorite orders at every restaurant, how he liked his instant ramen (with egg, American cheese, and green onions), and especially his cafe drink orders. When they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, you supposed that was especially true for Felix.

After over twenty whole years together, how the fuck were you supposed to avoid falling in love? How were you supposed to look at Felix and feel with your whole chest that you were not madly in love with his beautiful face and his kind heart? When Felix told you he loved you with slurred words on his birthday last year, how were you supposed to let that go and live on like you didn’t cry in the shower for a whole month afterwards?

You put the blame for the disorder in this messed-up friendship all on Felix, but you couldn’t help but clean it up and do your best to keep it together. So when he forgot he said those magic words, you did your best to forget them, too, but the best you could do was bury the memory away and cover it up with work and school. It wasn’t the most ideal way to deal with the issue, you knew that, but the important part was that it was working even if it was just a little bit.

Felix was the first to wake up the next morning. You didn’t move a single muscle and ended up sleeping upright since he used you as a pillow. Still, your hand was in his and the other tangled in his messy blond hair and truly, being here with you was the only place that felt like home.

--

The day of the party was filled with chaos on your end, as you had to wake up at 6:00 am just to make it to Jisung’s pool house in time to set up the decorations for the joint birthday party. You ended up directing all the crews to where the cocktail tables needed to be set up, where the instagram photobooth should go, and where the Michelin-star chefs were going to set up for dinner. The most important part was the dance floor, which would be clean with nothing but some shoe scuffs for the first couple of hours and probably stained with different colors of liquor by the end of the night.

By noon you were totally wiped out having a stomach full of only coffee and a granola bar. The worst part was that you didn’t get a chance to buy a mask yet and would probably have to settle for some cheap recycled paper with sequins and feathers glued on it from the birthday party store down the block.

But as if the Gods’ translated your feelings telepathically to Felix, your Prince in shining armor came to the rescue with a sandwich, more coffee, and something in a matte black gift bag. The gesture, though small, made your cheeks burn the brightest of pinks. It was your first time seeing and talking with Felix since he left the comfort of your lap a couple of nights ago. Although you were unsure of yourself (as with any situation, am I right?), the Prince didn’t seem so phased.

“I figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he grinned brightly, handing you all the goods.

“You are a blessing,” you sighed, chugging the iced coffee. “What’s in the black bag?”

“It’s a surprise. Open it.”

“I thought today was your birthday?”

“It’s nothing big, I promise!”

You shot him a skeptical look, but opened up the gift regardless. Inside was an intricately bejeweled mask for tonight, colored perfectly to match your outfit.

“I went to your apartment because I thought you’d be there,” Felix began shyly. “I went to your room and saw your entire outfit laid out, but no mask, so I figured you didn’t have one yet. I bought one to match your outfit and to match mine! Mine looks exactly like that, but black.”

“You really didn’t have to,” you pouted, though staring at the shiny jewels adoringly. It was gorgeous and you never thought in your lifetime you could own anything so glamorous. The gesture lifted an extremely loaded weight off your shoulders and you couldn’t help but hug the birthday boy as a thank you. “You’re the best, thank you.”

“Anything for you, love.”

“Also, please stop going into my bedroom.”

“What, afraid I’m going to raid your panties?”

“Yes.”

“That’s fair.”

Felix spent the rest of the day helping you make the pool house perfect since it was also technically his job as the co-host. Holding the ladder while you hung up crystal decor was reminiscent of past Christmas parties that his family hosted. Your two families would come together and prepare the cookies, the eggnog, and the presents for the whole morning before the big party that started around dinner time, and you and Felix were in charge of the Christmas tree. He’s not too big on heights, so he always made you hang the ornaments on the top layer. It was a very adult networking and old people gambling games type of party, so you and Felix would always sneak off into his basement and play video games or watch corny movies with a stolen tray of sugar cookies.

The Christmas before uni was probably the last one where you two felt like kids and didn’t have to worry about what kinds of feelings would get in the way of your beautiful friendship.

“Ugh, my calves are burning,” you whined on your way down from the ladder. Your legs gave out on the second step down and the weight of your tired body pulled you down, causing you to drop to your death from a mere five feet above.

Luckily, your Prince had quick reflexes and caught you bridal style. As kids, it was surprising when Felix could carry anything even half his weight with his twiggy arms, but the fact that he could hold you without struggling or even breaking a sweat was the closest you’ve ever experienced a miracle.

A gentle, handsome smile came from his lips. “You ok?” he asked in his deep voice.

No, you’re definitely not, but lying was ok in this situation. “F-F-Fine! I am fine!”

“Are you sure?”

“Y-Yes! Uh, you can put me down now…!”

“Hm, but I kind of like holding you like this.” You hit his rock-hard chest lightly, to which he recoiled dramatically before placing you down gently. “Is that how you thank your hero!?”

“Thank you, My Hero.”

“That’s more like it.”

It wasn’t until around dinner time when you left Felix alone to be in charge of guiding all the caterers to their cooking spots while you sped home to get ready as fast as you could. You didn’t want to leave Felix in charge for more than an hour, otherwise there would be more room for error.

You must have had such little faith in him because he did as was told without any issues and was done well before the party was going to start. He took the down time to put on his satin black suit and fix his blond hair before putting on the matching mask. While looking in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, of course he admitted to himself that he would be the sexiest one at the party, but something about the view didn’t seem right. He didn’t have you beside him hyping him up like always. The view in the mirror was lonely without you.

“Good job with the chefs!” you called into the dressing room unannounced.

Felix could see you jogging in wearing the full outfit he saw on your bed this morning, now complete with the mask he gifted you in the reflection of the mirror. The view of you was stunning, so much to the point that the Prince himself was too afraid to turn around and look at you with his own eyes. You reminded him of the story of Medusa, who would turn men into stone if they dared to look at you, and Felix thought that he was well past that point, already frozen in place with his jaw dropped and hands fixated on his crooked tie.

Luckily, you didn’t seem to notice as you stepped in between him and the mirror. The feel of your knuckles brushing up against his chest broke him free of his frozen state, causing him to hitch his breath in his throat. It was very un-Felix-like to be this nervous, especially before an event that circled around him, but perhaps it was his sobriety that made him jittery.

“You good?” you reciprocated after a long moment of silence.

Prince Felix cleared his throat before speaking. “Yeah.”

“Nervous?”

“I guess so.”

“What do you have to be nervous about other than being the center of attention in front of hundreds of people?” you teased lightly.

“It’s not like I know everyone, though.”

“What do you mean? You and Han invited all the people you normally party with.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m friends with all of them. I don’t hang out with them before 10:00 pm.”

Even behind the mask, you could tell his nerves were sincere. “Are you having regrets about this party?”

“I wouldn’t say regrets… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I know you put a lot of work into this.”

“Do you not want to go -”

“No! No, I want to go.” To ditch a party you worked on for forty-eight hours would be like slapping you in the face and he knew that. But he also knew if he said yes, you would follow him wherever he’d go in a heartbeat because that’s how much you loved him. He cleared his throat once more. “Will you stay with me?”

You raised a brow, unsure if you heard correctly. “Stay with you?”

“As in, will you stay by my side tonight?”

“You want me by your side the whole night?” Oh, how the tables have turned, in which Felix with his blushing cheeks couldn’t look you in the eyes as he nodded shyly. It was hard to believe what you were seeing with your own eyes and you wondered if you were dreaming. “Ok.”

“Really?”

Softly, you straightened his mask. “Anything for you, birthday boy.”

The anxiety from the claustrophobia of the party was replaced with the thought of being with you the whole night, but this is how he’d rather be. No longer did he want to stay in this room he filled with bad energy, so he took you by the hand and led you back to the main room where guests quickly filled in. Anxiety filled his chest again and you felt it through his hand squeezing yours tightly, as if afraid you would let go and slip away into the crowd where he’d never see you for the rest of the night. You’re not sure what’s gotten into him and you didn’t want to make it worse, so you led him to the tables of food hoping he could fill the emptiness in hopes of loosening up a little.

Even while eating food, Felix refused to let go of your hand, so you had to act as his free hand and feed him gourmet finger foods.

“You’re even more of a baby on your birthday,” you scoffed.

“But you love babying me, right?” he teased.

“I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right answer…”

The beginning of the night was nothing short of energy-draining as every single guest came up to greet Felix on his birthday and greeted you second. It was crazy that even in a room full of hundreds of peers, the crowd was still able to distinguish the birthday boys from everyone else, but you supposed it was easy because who else was blond and this handsome? The same way you looked at Felix, everyone else also had their eyes on him because he was truly that stunning in a crowded room.

It was occasions like these when you felt most out of place. You only ‘belonged’ here because Felix was your ticket in, but you would never become one of the elite. You didn’t have all the luxury of buying a new outfit or new jewels for every occasion like everyone else here. You were a simple person in your humble apartment living your predetermined life and getting by without any conflict, all thanks to him. That was what made you believe for twenty years that you had no right to fall for Felix the way you did - you were nothing more than the King’s hired Chancellor.

Even so, when the whole room was looking at him, he only looked at you.

The next song was a common waltz song that was played at every masquerade party on the planet. With a hop in his step, you found the birthday boy in front of you bowing with his hand still in yours.

“Will you dance with me?” he asked dramatically like he was playing a character.

“Why, of course, Your Highness.”

Waltz dancing was definitely not the first talent you’d think of while wondering what Felix was good at, but to your surprise, it was like he’d been taking classes for years. You knew little-to-nothing about it yourself, but it was easier when your date took the lead and you didn’t have to think, just follow. It was a ride, honestly, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling, even when the dance finished with Felix dipping you, faces close and noses barely touching.

You hardly noticed his eyes shift to your lips in the midst of all the giggles. “When did you learn to do that!?”

“Last night,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you impressed?”

“Very.”

“Then those three hours of Youtube tutorials were worth it.”

Your predicted cycle of food, dancing, alcohol, and back to food was correct. Several rounds lasted several hours to the point where you were at the perfect amount of tipsy, but still able to navigate, although if any more rounds of alcohol were going to happen, you might be in trouble. Keeping up with the birthday boy was so hard!

But you didn’t mind, because the poison made you forget about how much you didn’t belong there and swept any overreaction to Felix’s affection under the rug, though it was getting harder to do the latter, as each shot meant closing the distance between you and him. Somehow, you went from holding his hand to his hand never leaving your waste, with your bodies keeping close contact, a feeling you’ve always been familiar with even when sober, but this time was different.

“So,” he began in the middle of the dance floor. “When do I get my gift?”

“How about after your birthday cake?”

“Birthday cake?”

On cue, the lights dimmed and the music stopped. Jisung found his way next to Felix and all the chefs rolled out a giant tiered cake with candles on it, cueing all the guests to sing happy birthday. You made sure to keep the design simple, but the flavors immaculate and matching the boys’ palates because that was the most important part. Even from afar, you could smell the chocolate.

You tried to step away from him so that he and Jisung could have the spotlight together, but even then he didn’t want you to leave. He squeezed your side a little tighter, a silent gesture that said, ‘please don’t go.’

By now, you were starting to sober up a bit and that was a bad sign because now you were realizing that this whole night would be forgotten tomorrow, just like last year. Still, you stayed by his side because that’s what he wanted.

Why it had to be you, you’ll never know, but the feeling was too right to question it.

At the end of the song, the birthday boys blew out the candles and the cheers deafened your ear drums. What shocked you next was the feeling of soft lips on your cheek.

“Thank you,” Felix whispered with so much adoration. “For everything.”

You’ll never be able to recover from tonight. “Why are you like this all of a sudden? Have you had too much to drink?”

A cute giggle escaped his lips. “No, I’m fine. This day feels extra special, that’s all. You’re the reason.”

Felix was such a smooth honey talker when there was a little something swimming in his bloodstream. You should know better not to take these words to heart, but you can’t help it when they’ve all you’ve ever wanted to hear. A repeat of last year was bound to happen any second.

You did your best to avoid the compliment. “Do you want your gift now?”

“Ooh, yes!”

The gift was hidden in the room you find him in earlier today. You were too embarrassed to set it up next to the gift table that was dressed in bags with brands like Cartier and Gucci, so you stashed it away from the rest. The bouncy and excited boy had the widest grin on his face, impatiently waiting for you to present him with what you had.

“Close your eyes,” you demanded.

Felix held out his hands with his eyes closed and expected something small, like a watch or a cupcake or some plush toy that he could strap on his keychain, but instead nearly stumbled forward holding something as heavy as a textbook.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

He wasn’t too far off, actually. In his hands was a thick, heavy book titled “Felix & _____” that you printed out on an embossed label maker. Inside were infinite pages of pictures, stamps, receipts, travel brochures, foreign currency, movie tickets, anything and everything from most if not all the memories you spent together over the past twenty years. The first few pages were filled with old film pictures and polaroids you had to steal from your parents and the later pages progressively got more crowded with trinkets and things when you two were old enough to hang out on your own.

For a while, Felix was silent as he flipped through all the memories. There wasn’t a smile on his face, no tears streaming down his cheeks, in fact he was emotionless and now you were confused. He told you he didn’t care about money or the cost of gifts when it came to you, but…

“You hate it,” you stated rather than asking.

Felix looked up at you, completely sobered up, with the most incredulous expression. “Of course not,” he reassured softly. “I love it. So much. You saved all of this…?”

“I saved every receipt that wasn’t smudged with barbecue sauce or oil and every movie ticket since the start. I had boxes full of it and I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I didn’t have the heart to throw it away, so I made you a scrapbook. It took forever, but luckily your family’s historian captured a lot of the earlier stuff.” Felix was listening, but his eyes were fixated on the last page, where you pasted a single picture of a selfie you two took just a couple days ago. “Happy birthday, Felix.”

Flipping through the scrapbook made him realize that yes, so much has changed between the two of you. There’s so much growth and care and love in between the pages and the fine lines that isn’t seen unless you look for it. As he looked at you, with your cheeks dusted scarlet and wearing your heart on your sleeve, perhaps him pretending he didn’t tell you he loved you last year was what was slowly drifting you away from him, because how were you going to deny to his face that you didn’t love him, too?

Perhaps it was best you would admit it to him on your own time. For now, he hoped a gentle kiss on your forehead would push you a little bit.

His rose petal lips left your forehead tingling. “You’re the best. Thank you.”

When Felix tried to close the gap in between, you took a large step back. You couldn’t look him in his eyes and now he’s confused and his heart hurts.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you asked.

“Doing what?”

“Holding my hand, holding me, kissing me…”

“Oh, I thought you were ok with all of that.”

You take a deep breath. You can’t let last year repeat itself. “You’re wrong.”

“I’m wrong?”

“You can’t just do that whenever you feel like it.”

“Do what!?”

“Play with my feelings!” You took another breath to calm you down and prevent anymore tears that were about to pool. “I have feelings, Felix. You can’t just use me whenever you feel like it and take it all back like it never happened the next morning!”

“I have feelings, too. How the fuck else was I supposed to deal with the night I told you I love you and you didn’t say it back?”

You’re left stunned and speechless. Felix just admitted to you that he once told you he loved you. He didn’t have to say when for you to know that he was talking about the inebriated self on your bed mumbling those three words as you tucked him in on his birthday last year.

“You didn’t say it back and I thought you didn’t feel the same, so I pretended to forget all about it. But now I know you feel the same,” he begged desperately. “I just know. Tell me I’m wrong, _____. Tell me I’m wrong to think that after all these years together, I think you fell in love with me the same way I fell in love with you.”

You couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t admit that he was right because he was drunk then and he’s still a little intoxicated now. But even if he’s right, even though you both knew how much you loved every cell of Felix, what if all this sweet talk was brewed by the mix of drinks that settled in his core? What if he forgets again tomorrow and you’re left in a worse state than you were last year? What if the alcohol just jogged last year’s memory that was stored deep in his cortex that only tequila was able to unlock?

The more you tried to make an excuse for it, the more ridiculous it sounded...

When you didn’t say anything right away, Felix was sure if he had his ribs broken that it would hurt less than the pain he felt in his chest right now. But that wasn’t your fault - nothing was ever your fault. This was all his doing because that’s what Felix did best - screw everything up.

The blond’s once hurt expression turned to stone before he dropped the scrapbook onto the cushioned chair next to his belongings.

“My mistake then,” he muttered before leaving you alone in the room.

“Felix, wait -” but it was too late, he was already out of the room to do something stupid to forget what just happened.

You ran after him, but the party room was so loud and dark and filled to the brim with guests that you couldn’t find him. In a room full of people, you were always able to find Felix no matter what, but it’s like he changed the makeup of the atmosphere to make sure that wouldn’t happen again for the rest of the night. You tried looking for blond locks from high ground, you tried snaking your way on the dance floor, you even checked the private rooms and men’s bathrooms in the whole house and none of them worked. You were afraid that after all the heartbreak, you wouldn’t see him again for a long while.

You bumped into Jisung in an empty hallway, who seemed out of breath like he was running a marathon just now.

“You have to come with me,” he gasped in urgency.

“What happened?”

“It’s Felix. He’s about to race Wooyoung.”

Those five words sounded like a terrible ad-lib in the newspaper, but when you followed Jisung to the front of the pool house, lo and behold half of the guests were gathered around the two boys who looked like they were about to get into a fist fight. In Felix’s hand, you could see that he was holding the keys to his sports car that was already parked out front.

Wooyoung’s the first to see you run to them from the crowd, with Jisung following behind you. “Hey, _____. Can you tell Prince Charming here that I’m not about to race him and go to jail?”

“That’s because you’re a pus -”

Jisung held Wooyoung back before he could get a swing in and you stepped in between. This was the first time you got a good look at his face, which was tear-stained and flushed red, all because of you.

“What are you doing!?” you muttered harshly.

“Trying to understand what you see in this guy. It’s not his looks, or his brains. Can’t be his car either, but I just wanted to prove my prediction just in case.”

His breath smelled like freshly poured alcohol. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Am I ridiculous, though? I think I might be onto something when I said there’s something that you see in him.”

“There’s nothing, so can you please give me your keys so we can talk inside?”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

Ouch. “Ok, we won’t talk. Let’s do something else -”

“I don’t want to do something else with you. I want to race and kick his ass.”

“You want to crash and burn that badly?” Wooyoung screamed over Jisung’s shoulders. “Fine, let’s drive!”

The crowd cheering only boosted Felix’s ego more, so he broke free from your wall and walked towards his car.

“Felix, don’t do this!” you cried out desperately, and for a second you could see the hesitation, but it was easily overcome.

“If you don’t want to be here, then go home. I don’t need you.”

The crowd oohed in unison and your left in the middle of the circle humiliated, watching the boy you loved the most get into his car and prepare to race your coworker. There’s a myriad of scenarios that fly through your mind of what could go wrong and you’re not sure if you should stay for the mess of the aftermath. But Felix said it himself that he didn’t need you, so maybe you should follow his advice and go home.

If something were to happen to him and you weren’t there to pick up the pieces and mend them back together, you would never forgive yourself. Your life’s purpose had always been to help Felix mend his pieces together whenever he needed it. But maybe this was his way of telling you that you were no longer needed for that - that you were free of all your duties as his personal fake secretary and since he thought you didn’t love him back that you served no purpose to him anymore.

When Felix said he didn’t need you, he meant that he didn’t need you to be the person you always were. He didn’t need you to be his babysitter trying to stop him from doing something stupid, he needed you as someone who wanted to stop him because you loved him and was afraid that he’d get hurt. And perhaps it was his mistake for saying it so harshly because you didn’t bother to stop him after that. But it hurt him to his core that you believed him when he said he didn’t need you anymore, that after twenty years you so easily believed that he could cut you out of his life, just like that. How many stupid mistakes could Felix make tonight? He was too far into this that he couldn’t back out, so all he had to do was race and make it out alive to see you again.

From the rear view mirror, he saw your distant figure fade away with the night.

--

It has been a long sixty-eight hours and twenty-four minutes since you arrived home from the birthday party. Hermit crabbing for the first twelves hours was stressful - you couldn’t sleep until 6:00 am, you only slept for a couple hours, you sent mass text messages to multiple people, including Felix, curious about his whereabouts and no one got back to you until twelve hours after that.

han solo [8:43 pm]: sorry darling, i like just woke up. he’s fine i guess.

you [8:44 pm]: what do you mean you ‘guess’!?

han solo [8:44 pm]: i mean they both came out unscathed and his dumbass won so physically he’s fine! but he didn’t seem too happy that he won. i think he’s back home with his parents atm.

That settled your racing heart only a little, but at least you knew he was fine physically, at least. Still, your hundreds of texts sent to him were all left on read, meaning he saw all your desperation and worry and didn’t bother to ease any of it.

You couldn’t eat for those long hours, but now it was getting unbearable and you needed to eat something. You had all the ingredients for Felix’s favorite soup, and as much as you didn’t want to constantly remind yourself of him, you couldn’t help yourself. The process was nice and slow, where you took extra care into washing the vegetables and bringing the broth to a gentle boil before dropping everything in. You could imagine the look on his face if he smelled what you made with your own hands.

Cooking for Felix was a very rare occasion because you were still self conscious about your abilities, especially as someone who was going to work for the country’s largest restaurant franchise. But the times he’s tasted your creations, his reaction was nothing but sincere bliss, cleaning his plate or bowl or several every time. He was the only one who truly believed in your talents and far-off dream when your parents wanted you to follow your Dad’s footsteps. You always cared about what Felix thought about you and your actions and nearly everything, but what he thought about your cooking was one of the most important things and his constant support for your craft was what made you fall for him so much harder than you already did.

The aromas of the soup made you miss him even more. If you didn’t hear back from him today, you were going to take drastic measures and find him yourself.

A quiet, eerie knock came at your door. You hesitated, wondering if you should just pretend you weren’t home, but then a voice spoke up.

“I know you’re home,” Felix said. “I can smell you cooking my favorite soup.”

You dropped your wooden spoon and hurried to open the front door. Behind the door revealed a tired Felix with one bruised up eye and cut up lip. Though the tears quickly fell from your eyes and you covered your gaping mouth, he still gave you a weak smile in hopes of easing any worry you now had.

“I kind of need you,” he admitted softly. “I really need you.”

Speechless, you took Felix by the hand and sat him on your couch before grabbing your massive first aid kit. He’s not surprised that you took him in with open arms without any hesitation because that was the kind of person you were. He loved that about you, but there’s guilt in his heart because he’s the last person who deserves this treatment. He knew you didn’t exactly forgive him yet because you still haven’t said a word, even as you were wetting a cotton swab with isopropyl alcohol.

“Is it going to sting?” he asked. You didn’t bother answering and let him feel the pain for himself. “Motherfucker!”

Through all the cleaning and wincing, though your facial expression didn’t move much, a waterfall of tears fell from your eyes at a constant speed. Since you were kids, Felix’s Dad was big on spanking and physical discipline, but this was a whole different level than you’ve ever seen before - this wasn’t discipline, this was intentional. Even so, Felix still smiled, even through all the stinging.

“Stay still,” you whispered, voice shaking. Your free hand held his face in place by pressing your palm into his nonbruised cheek. The wound still stung, but the wincing at least lessened. When the cotton swab dried up and you weren’t sure what to do, Felix calmed your racing thoughts by placing a hand on top of the one you had on your cheek.

He liked the way your thumb gently brushed across his cheek. Your touch always left tingles in its absence.

“What happened?” you finally asked.

“Dad found out about the racing because it was in the tabloids as ‘Future YONBOK CEO Caught Racing Under the Influence. Is the Future of YONGBOK in Good Hands?’ and, well, you know how that turned out.”

You said nothing while shaking your head. You took your hand back and stood up to get something and the fear of you leaving him again left Felix sweating and tears of his own pooling in his eyes. But you came back with a bag of frozen peas to press against his bruises and swollen lip.

“Are you hungry?” Felix nodded silently. “I made your favorite soup.”

“I know. Did you know that I was coming?”

“No. I guess I’m lucky.”

One of his hands is on top of yours holding the frozen peas and the other grabs hold of your other free hand. Felix wanted to hold you in every way possible, but for now this would have to do until you accepted him.

“You know I love you,” he told you. “And you know I will always need you. I’m sorry I pretended to forget about telling you last year and I’m sorry if that made you think I was insincere the second time. But now you know for sure that I love you. Was I really that wrong to think you felt the same?”

“It seems like you already know my answer.”

“I need to hear you say it.”

You sighed heavily. By now the tears had stopped, but you wouldn’t be surprised if they started up again. This was the first time you would admit aloud that you loved the stupid boy who tried to hide his smile sitting in front of you.

“I love you, Lee Felix. I always have.”

“Knew it ~” he sang. “Tell me when you fell for my handsome looks.”

“Remember Prom night?”

“Prom night!? Seriously?”

“My date standing me up and you offering to dance with me the whole night sounds like the perfect formula to fall in love with you, does it not?”

“I guess! I just thought it’d be longer than that!”

“I’m sure it has been longer than that.”

“Really?”

“Prom night was just the point of no return - that no matter what I did, my feelings were absolute and I couldn’t be in denial anymore. But I didn’t feel any different… And that’s when I assumed I just always loved you.”

“Even when I do stupid shit like this, you still loved me that much, huh?”

“Even with a busted lip, I still think you’re the most handsome.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he chuckled. “Do you know when I knew?”

“Uh, last year?”

“Nope. On your tenth birthday.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. When you shared your birthday cake and gave me the corner slice with the most icing flowers on it, I knew you were the one for me.”

“Can you be serious for once!?”

“Baby, I am dead serious! Look me in the eyes - well, my good eye.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Felix pressed a long kiss to your forehead and then rested his own up against it. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“And being an ass.”

“Yes, and being the biggest ass.”

You dared to kiss his lips, but just enough for them to touch, too worried about hurting his bruise. Felix didn’t care - this was the only time you’d have your first kiss and he wanted it to be long and slow, putting his all into your very first kiss even if it hurt a little. His lips were hungry for yours and so were his hands, making you drop the frozen peas on the floor so he could pull you into his lap to deepen the kiss. Wandering hands traveled your waist and your own in his hair and all your worries about wondering if love was truly real melted away with every second. Even when you broke free to come up for air, Felix refused to loosen his grip on your waist, holding you so close that he buried his face in the nape of your neck. He short breaths tickled your skin and when you giggled, he peppered kisses all over. Your laugh was music to his ears.

“Do you forgive me?” he said in between kisses.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Just don’t leave my side again.”

“Never again. I promise you.”

“Well… Where do we go from here?”

“Hm… I get to eat my favorite soup with the love of my life?”

“I like the sound of that.”

“And then straight to bed.”

“But it’s only 9:00 pm?” A playful, naughty smirk spread across Felix’s lips. “Lee Felix!”

“What!? I won the race, can’t I get a prize!?”

“Stop.”

Soup was always better with your love and a cup of frozen peas.