#blame sunday <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[dolyx]

(not updated with anything dol-related stuff but hm i think that despite being one of the characters that seem to be averse from impregnating/getting impregnated by pc to maintain their professionalism, harper would be one of the most guilt-trippy to pc as a parent. something something, harper manipulating them, if not putting pc under hypnosis to do things they (harper) want as "gratitude" for making harper carry their child/making harper feel somewhat obligated to taking care of them. i think the difference between f!harper and m!harper is who is going to be responsible for who. f!harper guilt-tripping pc into having them take care of her, of going along with her whims as she had to carry pc's child for months, m!harper having an excuse to be much more overbearing; it's his right to take care of pc now, after all. the weekly checkups will be mandatory. if you don't show up, you can expect harper to be waiting for you in the school clinic, or perhaps near the orphanage or at danube street, where he can coax you into letting him touch you under the guise of him checking to see if there's anything wrong with you. guilt tripping you into doing what she wants or forcing you to his treatments, i think, regardless of sex, they'd still be in control lol. that's just how it is, i think. unless ofc it turns out they like to be stripped of control. now, won't that be delicious.)

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Wear headphones :]

Transcript:

*grunting*

I'm- I'm coming just- Tch

I'm almost there... Agh~

Audio Source

ok fine here's the context

Transcript:

Yay! I'm finally at the top of these stairs! *laughs*

[scourge-sympathiser]

SCOURGE SUNDAY 024/???

[daz4i]

crying abt fiction is so refreshing. i think in the last 30ish hours i cried over like 6 different pieces of art related to my current special interest. Going Through It

[ironunderstands]

I love your thoughts on this so I do want to mention that I actually think the exact same thing as you, I just didn’t touch on it hard enough in the original analysis- Gopher and The Family are responsible for Sunday ending up this way, and he’s responsible for Staying This Way.

He is the perfect grooming victim for cults and a lot of his flawed mindset and behavior are born from them, therefore he will have to unlearn it and process his trauma to grow as a person, which is a big reason why he Stayed That Way because doing that is fucking hard, especially when your abuser is still in your life (until about like a day before the end).

However, despite being both a victim of circumstance and the deliberate machinations of others- Sunday is still fully responsible for his own failing, and I don’t like when people pin the blame entirely on others because Sunday being responsible for his crimes is the most important part about them- how could he grow otherwise?

He was not raised to question but that does not mean questioning was impossible for him, and even though he is of rather was a bird in a cage, he could still see the outside distantly from outside the window.

Now while I don’t think you specifically are trying to do this (you just had something to add and it’s great)- Sunday’s trauma explains his actions, it does not excuse them and man am I tired of people thinking it does

Sunday’s worldview sucks, his outlook and perception of himself and others sucks… and that’s why he’s so interesting

In honor of his drip marketing releasing tonight (or maybe yesterday for you depending on when I get this out), I’d like to talk about why I think Sunday’s beliefs and perspective is very, very flawed and how his own biases rather than the actions of those who oppose him are what led to his downfall.

Sunday is entirely responsible for his own failure, and that’s exactly why he’s incredible.

This contains mentions of leaks and spoilers for the Penacony quest line… you have been warned

To start with, oh my lord do Sunday’s preconceived notions kick him in the ass. 

I think the best example of this is his conversation with Dr. Ratio in which Ratio pretends to betray Aventurine, selling out his plan to Sunday. Now, what’s incredibly interesting about this exchange is that Ratio doesn’t fully lie to Sunday once in this exchange, rather he says half truths and makes vague statements which Sunday himself interprets as being in support of him. 

Take what Ratio said the whole, “A scholar knows their position and wouldn’t forsake it for the sake of petty pride.” In retrospect, we know this line is actually referring to Aventurine- aka Ratio is saying he’s not just going to sell him out to Sunday for the sake of information about the Stellaron (which he would get anyways if the IPC attained Penacony, plus Mr. Incredibly Dedicated Knowledge Spreader probably has other means of gaining it then through The Family). 

However, since Ratio answered the invitation Sunday gave him, Sunday assumes that Ratio is on his side, believes his cause is righteous, and that he won Ratio over with offering him information about the Stellaron, therefore making that previous statement of Ratio’s null, because Sunday interpreted it as, “convince me this is worth my time + prove to me you’re correct,” when it really meant, “there is no way in hell I’m about to sacrifice my friend to you, and there is nothing you could offer me to make me do so you crazed lunatic.”

But why did Sunday not weigh the options? Why did he unquestioningly believe his perception of the situation was the correct one?

Well- partly it’s because Ratio and Aventurine were doing their damndest to make it seem like they hate each other and that their plan was going off the rails.

But the more important part is that even without Ratio saying a word or even accepting the invitation, Sunday already believes he’d be on his side. 

Let me demonstrate this through Sunday's perspective:

I am a righteous person, I am doing the correct things, my worldview is the correct one. Dr. Ratio is also a righteous person who seems to be doing the correct things. Therefore, since we are both on the side of good, and Aventurine is clearly not on that side considering his status as Stoneheart and his negative relationship to Ratio, then Ratio will naturally want to be on my side. After all, the good guys work together, do they not?- and together will vanquish this evil villain.

This perspective is a simple one, but Sunday’s unshaking belief (up until the end of 2.2) that he is 100% in correct and in the right, that any and everyone who he also perceives to be in the right (like Ratio) would believe/side with him without truly needing to be convinced. Sunday doesn’t come out the gate offering the Stellaron information- he only keeps it as a backup just in case. 

However, this is complicated because Sunday is also not an idiot, and he’s extremely paranoid, so he’s going to make sure that the way he views the world is 100% correct on the off chance he’s wrong which could foil his plans- which is why he invited Ratio in the first place. Nevertheless, this isn’t him hunting for new perspectives, but rather him desiring to prove himself right again, which is a bad thing because Sunday is very much not right. 

A perfect world is a perfect pris- *gets shot*

Reference that approximately 2 ½ people will get beside, Sunday’s ideology that he is fully confident in.. sucks. It sucks ass, it’s terrible, and let me explain.

I’m not going to try going over all the little intricacies to how the dreamscape works because I a) don’t know and b) don’t particularly care because they aren’t relevant to the argument I will be making- which is that Sunday’s ideology is inherently flawed and immediately falls apart under scrutiny.

Essentially, he desires to create the perfect fake reality, enveloping the whole galaxy in Ena’s dream and fulfilling their every desire and whim within it, with himself as the sacrifice to allow it to exist. The seven rest days, no illness, no pain, no challenge, you get the idea. 

And, this perfect world paradoxically sucks ass because of its perfectness.

Improving society is great, eliminating hardship is great, increasing quality of life is great.

But declawing reality itself- absolutely not.

I’m going to try to explain this through my favorite strangely specific anecdote- the process of obtaining diamonds in Minecraft.

Stay with me now.

You essentially have two options- go out and mine them yourselves the hard way, which takes hours, gives you less diamonds per the amount of time spent on it, and likely with you exhausting some of your resources like food, torches, and tools which you will need to replenish.

Or.

You can just.. get them from creative mode or commands, and you can get as many as your heart desires.

However, despite the fact that option one is harder, gives you less diamonds and takes significantly more time, I, as well as hopefully you, would pick it every time (at least in a survival world, although honestly idk why you would even need pure diamonds in creative).

And that’s because the first option is rewarding. 

You did not earn the diamonds you easily and magically summoned into your inventory, there is no struggle, no journey, no challenge to it, therefore it feels entirely unremarkable, as compared to the feeling you (hopefully) get from mining diamonds, which makes you happy because you earned it. Yeah, it was harder, but the process itself is fun- the anticipation of not knowing when you’re going to find them, if at all, the danger, the fighting and digging and mauvering you will have to do in the process.

And with this unconventional example, the fatal flaw with Sunday’s ideology is revealed- it’s boring. 

It’s boring as shit.

Yeah, for the first few months or even years it might be enjoyable- having everything you could ever want served on a silver platter. However, humans are a) inherently a bit greedy and b) desire challenge, and this scenario fulfilles neither of those things. Naturally having everything means your desire for more can never be fulfilled, leaving the wanter forever unsatisfied, whereas in the real world, things are truly out of your reach, meaning that even if you never end up getting them, they are still a tangible thing just out of reach… as strange at it sounds, we like being tantalilus-ed more than you think. After all, if what you want is so easy to get, you will never run out of things to want, and eventually that gets draining. 

Continually, if everything is easy, if everything is just right there whenever you want it- existence itself no longer has stakes. 

And that’s the problem, because much like how a story with no stakes is extremely hard to find compelling, a life with no stakes feels boring at best and downright pointless and meaningless at worst.

I’m just saying, there is a reason why the Nihility was such a strong presence and problem in Penacony.

Anyways, like with the diamond problem, a lack of stakes means that nothing you do feels rewarding, because you didn’t truly earn it. 

Which is where the Sunday’s idea of a “perfect” reality falls apart, because the most enjoyable reality for humans to live in is not one literally devoid of any possible flaw.

So why does he believe in it? When it’s so clearly flawed?

Well, it’s because Sunday doesn’t think a better alternative exists.

The world made you this way.. and you chose to continue what it started.

I’m sure I don’t need to repeat the story of the Charmony Dove all over again because trust me, we’ve all heard it before. Nonetheless, it reveals something important both about Sunday’s personality and his ideology- he’s fundamentally a defeatist.

He doesn’t believe that there is any alternative for the dove, that it could ever be able to fly again with its deformed nature, so instead of being “cruel” and letting it “inevitably fall to its death,” he’d rather keep it in a cage all its life where it has no freedom, but at least it would he alive and “happy”.

And this is where his defeatism reveals itself- Sunday doesn’t believe reality itself can get better because improving it when there are so many factors and things out of your control is hard at best and impossible at worst. Therefore, he resorts to creating an escapist, false version of it- a perfect golden cage, because constructing that is far, far easier than trying to help the dove fly again. 

The universe has endless possibilities, if Robin and Sunday had tried hard enough, they probably could have found a solution. Sure, they were both children, so the capabilities necessary to even attempt that were likely far out of their reach. However, it was still possible, but Sunday doesn’t believe in possibilities- he believes he’s right above all else, which is where that stubbornness and arrogance comes into play again.

Sunday doesn’t think better solutions than his exists, and he believes everyone would could possibly stand in his noble way are either villains, or horribly misguided; so it’s his job to show them the light.

This is why he lets the Express Crew + Firefly try to change his mind- Sunday wasn’t actually interesting in shifting his perspective, or really what they wanted to say. Rather, he just wanted to let them say there peace, because well, Sunday’s a good, righteous person (at least from his perspective), and good, righteous people listen to others. Good, righteous people will let these poor, ignorant souls offer their foolish words before exposing them to the harsh truth- or at least that’s how Sunday sees it. 

Moreover, this also explains his arrogance. If he believes his worldview is the sole correct one, then why listen to anyone else? He’s this world's savior, or at least he’s been raised to believe that- so why not relish in it? He enjoys punishing Aventurine, enjoys the bastard who stood in the way of Sunday’s plans, shrinks away in “defeat” and get what he “deserves.” Despite how miserable it sounds, Sunday also takes pride in having to be a martyr to bring about his beautiful dream. The belief that he is a selfless, good person is a selfish desire of his, even if a genuine one, and it’s what leads to his downfall.

Sunday could have actually listened. He could have reevaluated his loss to Aventurine and realized it was not through the others clever deception, but through his own biases. He could have actually taken the Express’s and Firefly’s advice. He could have looked for other avenues to help the people he truly does care about. 

Despite Gopher Wood’s manipulation- Sunday’s decision to go forward with the pain is entirely his own, because he truly believes- even with all the evidence for the contrary- that he is correct.

And that’s why he fails. Not because of the Express. Not because of Ratio. Not because of Aventurine. Not because of Gopher, or even the rest of The Family.

No, Sunday fails because he is flawed, and he is wrong, and he is the arrogant, selfish and biased one, and his worldview is wrong.

So what now?

This might have seemed like I think Sunday is pure evil and irredeemable, but I think it’s quite the opposite.

He has very good intentions, and he does genuinely care about it the well being of other people around him. He gives Aventurine a chance to prove his innocence, even if he never intended on changing, he does listen to what the Express + Firefly have to say. He pauses when Robin shows up, as she’s the one person (until the very end) he’s actually willing to accept the perspective of. The whole reason he ended up here in the first place is because Gopher Wood twisted Sunday’s good intentions into a fatal arrogance and utmost belief in a flawed worldview. 

However, what really sells me on Sunday’s goodness is when eyes widen at that final moment, the light draining from him as he realizes he is wrong. 

And once Sunday realizes he is wrong, those flaws that bind him can finally be examined and improved upon, as they all stem from that worldview he no longer believes in. 

His whole life, Sunday has been enacting out someone else’s plan for him, even if he’s come to internalize it over time, at the end of the day- it was never his, and without it, he’s empty.

Which is exactly why the only place he can go now is the Express, and the only thing left for him is redemption and growth.

Dan Heng is right- Sunday has a noble soul, and now that he has stopped believing in himself, he’s no longer shackled by the past either. Improvement or utter demise (in a likely nihility-flavored manner) are his only options remaining.

I understand a lot of people want to see him become a Stellaron Hunter, but imo, that just does nothing for him. He’d still be following someone else’s path/script, and Mr. I Will Sacrifice My Whole Existence To Become The Sun To Illuminate These Wandering Souls probably wouldn’t be so on board with the whole.. terrorism part of being a SH. Like yeah, they are our friends (kinda), but they absolutely kill innocent people and cause millions of dollars in property damage to people who don’t deserve it. 

Also, being on the Express Just Makes Sense. This is a game about choices, a game about accepting the mistakes of your past, but not letting them define you in order to move on and forge a better future for yourself and others- with the Astral Express + Trailblaze as a concept being the literal embodiment of it. There’s a reason when you switch to the Trailblazer’s POV in stories, it includes Kafka’s most important words to us- “When you have the chance to make a choice, make one you won’t regret.”

Therefore, I hope the choices Sunday will make in 2.7 are ones he’s proud of, and I can’t wait to see how exactly they get him on board with the crew, because there still is a LOT of development he needs to do before then. 

Anyways, thank you so much for reading, and if you have any thoughts I’d love to hear them. This was a stream of consciousness mess, but I hope it was still valuable nonetheless! Also if you are reading this on the day it was written, I hope we don’t get disappointed by his drip marketing!

[thornilee013]

Hi happy Wednesday! Oml the St Jude candle story made me giggle. RIP to the St Jude candle, I guess he was a hopeless cause after that :(( I’m so excited for you that you get to move soon! Yay for seeing and talking to your bf more often also!!! I hope that your trip is so amazing and yall are able to be in contact more regularly soon because you deserve that!

I’m so glad that you’re still having fun with WIP Wednesday! I love reading what you write :) Speaking of, could I please get some baby Jean? Have an amazing week!!! 🤍🤍🤍

prev | Baby Jean | WW 10.1.2024

It wasn't until a fish swam by behind his reflection that Jean took a step back, suddenly aware of the absence of his family. He looked over one shoulder and then the other, as if the lack of squabbling had been because his sisters were trying to sneak up on him. The exhibit in front of him wasn't any of the ones they had even talked about visiting. It did have a few manta rays gliding by, but mostly a bunch of smaller fish that he didn't know the name of.

Suddenly, he felt very, very small.

MASTERPOST

[rafesangelita]

♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

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[jaeminvore]

room(hate) | L.JN (M) — part I

SYNOPSIS: all you wanted was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital. All you needed was sleep after your long shifts at the hospital, but even that was considered a luxury in these trying times. A luxury blatantly stolen by your roommate, Jeno Lee, who seemed to have an endless line of bodies to fuck preventing you from getting at least an hour shut eye. It was annoying. It was disrupting and you seriously hoped that Jeno's dick falls off one day.

PART I (you are here) | PART II

[AO3 link for easier reading! Though please do consider leaving your thoughts on here if you’d like! I’d appreciate it sm 🥹💖]

GENRE: roommate au, non-idol au, slice of life-ish, unrequited hate, roommates with benefits, domesticity, porn with plot, fluff, comedy, crack treated seriously.

WORD COUNT: 18.3K out of 50K

CONTENT WARNINGS: afab!reader, a reader-insert but no ‘Y/N’ is used, MC's a little mean (blame it on the sleep deprivation), Mark has an unnamed girlfriend, Jeno's kind of an asshole (not on purpose) at first, mild slut-shaming, banter as forms of flirting/foreplay [smut warnings underneath the cut. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

SMUT WARNINGS: Jeno has a big dick. fingering, squirting, doggy, unprotected sex (please practice safe-sex unlike these two), back-shots, aftercare.

NOTE: save me beatbox Jeno... s̸a̷v̷e̵ ̶̟̀m̸̞̐̇ë̴̠̟̤̆... everything is consensual btw! MC just looooves to deny and deny and deny because not only does Jeno put the 'D' in dick, he also puts the 'D' in denial <3 if i sound a little too in love it’s bc i am i love that man and i need him so bad 🧍🏻‍♀️

"You like your peace, but you love a little chaos." — Maze by Alina Baraz

"I want you to love like you hate me and fuck me so crazy, crazy." — Lava Lamp by Lolo Zouaï

I.

“When you first get a taste and your heart starts to race.”

Mark thought it would be best to part ways after living together for four years.

He was leaving you. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Mark corrected. “I’m moving in with my girlfriend.”

“That does not make it any better!”

Mark Lee was leaving you.

Not as a side-piece. Not as his ‘actual’ girlfriend (gross!), but leaving you to fend for yourself as his best friend. Which, fine, perhaps you could have started with that and excluded your dramaticism, but no one could really blame the immediate distress when you were about to lose Golden Boy Mark Lee—golden in many ways such as being the perfect roommate (minus his awful cooking. He was a great haggling partner for cheap deals, though)—to domesticity.

The thought of throwing all that away in exchange for less would send anyone into a downward spiral, if you could consider your crazed search for the next best thing as that; treating it as if you had to gamble a huge chunk of your life for the sake of retaining that same level of comfort and ease you got from Mark.

The only catch was, you had no fucking idea what it meant to gamble. Neither in the literal, nor in the figurative sense.

Which should have been telling considering that you had never, not even once, thought of exchanging a portion of your paycheck for chips you knew you’d immediately lose the second the lack of knowledge and experience showed on your losing set of cards. The closest comparable scenario you could think of was accompanying your grandmother to Mahjong Sundays with her friends, but even then, keeping up with the rules was rather difficult for a kid who only knew toys and the air time of her favorite cartoon.

Granny’s friends and Granny herself hadn’t bothered with explaining it to you either, being far too invested with their acrylic tiles. What you did learn, though, was how agitating the sounds were when they hit together. It just about evoked such a raw feeling of irritation a seven year old could go through. The messy aftermath of snot and tears did it for Granny that she made sure to ask if you’d let her drag you along.

In short: no gambling experience, yet going in full-on with that mindset equated a recipe for a shitty disaster just waiting to implode on itself.

Still, you liked to think that you had played your cards right during the whole selection process. 

Details of each possible candidate were carefully written down—color-coded, bullet points, foot-notes. Some probable pet peeves highlighted to be raised for another round of deliberation—thanks to the extensive background checks you had done on your own accord, then later checked by Mark pushed by your unrelenting insistence. A second opinion would help narrow down your choices and who better to fill that role other than your own roommate?

Well, ex-roommate since—again—Mark had succumbed to the clutches of domestic bliss.

And it’s not like it couldn’t be seen from miles away. Everyone and their mothers knew Mark’s intentions right when he had brought home a shih tzu—a dog he and his girlfriend decided to co-parent despite living separately—to look after while Mark’s other half went away for a work trip. Really, anyone could tell that he was itching to start anew under the same roof with his girlfriend, but you didn't expect it to be that day to be so soon.

Who was going to play as your budget therapist now?

If there was anyone out there who knew how exhausting being in healthcare was, it was Mark. He understood the grievances that came with being a nurse and he was always there to lend an ear until you felt less burdened by the frustrations you had carried throughout a demanding shift. It was like an inborn skill he had, finding it in himself to simply know what to say and how to bring you back down.

No one could ever replace Mark. Your co-worker. Ex-roommate. Your best friend and now that he was off to start a new chapter in his life, in love as he could ever be, this called for new coping mechanisms, and a new roommate because there was no way in hell you were going to pay in full when you had other expenses already making a sizeable dent in your next paycheck. Making it bigger was not an option you would risk.

That was another reason why you insisted on the in-depth research amounting to almost a month’s worth of what was essentially the text-book definition of stalking.

From: marklee@gmail.com Subject the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol.doc

Don’t you think you’re being a little too nit-picky with all this? When did being a Leo become a deal breaker for you haha. Like people can’t change their birthdays and do I need to remind you that I’m a Leo? We’ve managed to not kill each other over the years. There’s also Jaemin? Dejun? Who are also Leos? Who are also our close friends? What is your problem with Leos? I thought Geminis were the worst?

To: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games Attached: tributes_lol_FINAL.doc

yes, and?? THREE Leos are enough i don’t need more! in my defense i made the worst mistake of becoming emotionally attached to you guys except Jaemin (and Hyuck by association) forced friendship onto me if u remember. he’s like a stray cat that wont leave me alone.

From: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games

This is literally just a blank document?

To: marklee@gmail.com Subject: the roommate games

Which means your selection was ASS!!!!!! i dont like ANY of them. One has a criminal record of insurance fraud and the other is weird as FUCK dude like who cradles and pets their fucking goldfish like its a cat?how bout this, do u personally know anyone in need of a place? LIKE someone at least 70% normal

Radio silence. Almost five hours of it and sitting in front of your laptop refreshing the shit out of your inbox as if that would do anything seemed like the worst possible choice of action when aiming for a productive afternoon.

By the time you heard from Mark again, golden light illuminated the living area that you had to squint, picking up your phone to read his text messages.

Mark (ER): I found someone Mark (ER): remember Jeno Lee?

You: no lol

Mark (ER): lol Mark (ER): tall, muscular and kind of a hermit?

You: ur not really giving me much to work with You: for all i know jaem legally changed his name to jeno for some reason

Mark (ER): he’s nicer than Jaemin

You: 😟 You: one of hyuck and jaem’s friends i assume?

Mark (ER): correct Mark (ER): he’s looking for a place Mark (ER): and he’s likely the 70% normal to your 30% normal 😁

You: wait what’s my 70% then?

Mark (ER): insane

You: die

“His lease is ending soon too.” Mark brought up a few days later in the middle helping him pack up for the great move, and it was nice out too. Not too cold, not too hot—really, just a nice day out with the perfect temperature accompanied by an occasional breeze, and yet Mark chose this day to pack up his life, enlisting your help when you could be doing something else that didn’t remind you of the impending loneliness that was about to come.

Even the outside wasn’t safe from the beginnings of grief.

The outside, a picturesque view of the city’s greens gradually bleeding into the many shades of fall framed by the large window, became the very subject of your mournful eyes.

Brooding became your default state, whereas Mark carried on plucking his vinyl records, a small collection of novelty trinkets from your joint travels and the handful of thick textbooks from nursing school he refused to throw out. I might need them at some point, y’know. He once told you after catching your eyebrows raised in question. Just because we graduated doesn’t mean we magically know everything and Mark was mostly right about these things.

You were going to miss Mark being mostly right about these things. Whether it would be over something trivial, or medical related, he just was. Always a step ahead of you in many cases.

Summer was at its peak when Mark had sat you down to tell you of his plans, the sun harsh with its light and adding on to the steady increase in temperature. He decided to push through once the summer heat dissipated completely in anticipation of a chilly fall, and just like how the seasons came and went, watching Mark stow away bits and pieces of himself into the boxes was an inevitable change you had to accept. 

The loud scratch of the packaging tape made him wince as you sealed the box. “Who?”

“Jeno,” He repeated, reminding you of Donghyuck and Jaemin’s elusive, so-and-so friend as he took the tape from you with a pointed stare. “y’know, your new roomie?”

“I haven’t even said yes.”

“Trust me, you will.” Mark looked very sure of his claim, too. “Anyways—” he waved towards the air “—said something about his lease ending in a few weeks or so? He wanted somewhere close to work and our complex is like, real close to his office. A win on both sides?”

At least it wasn’t just you benefiting from the change.

“Right. How the hell am I gonna get to work without your car now?”

“That’s all you can say?”

“Hm, no,” you said, turning to face Mark with a straight face. “Do you think I could bribe Jeno into driving me to work?”

Mark huffed, “you’re stupid.”

“You’re stupid,” you cried, doing an awful job of keeping the waterworks from overflowing with frustrated swipes to your face. “This is so stupid—I’m stupid—God, you only live like thirty minutes away.”

Mark, ever the one to find his friends endearing even in the most undignified of conditions, let out a fond coo while gathering you up in his arms in a tight squeeze. “I’m gonna miss your morning arguments with the coffee machine too.”

The dig was met with a thwack on the arm.

Wherever Mark went, you followed. Only because he was literally your ride to and from work and how convenient it was that you both worked at the same private hospital. He was the type to simply offer a ride when you obviously needed it. For years, it had been like that.

Now, Mark stayed behind. Where he belonged, leaving him in the care of his girlfriend practically absorbing his oozing joy as they both coddled her—their dog, Ziggy, just outside of their apartment complex. The couple were completely lost in one another, inadvertently forgetting the piles of boxes in Mark’s car that had to be brought up sooner or later. They had all the time in the world anyway and it was understandable that Mark would want to simply bask in the moment with the one person that made every waking day worth it. 

And leaving them behind to catch the next bus was a bittersweet pinch to your heart.

Mark was off to unfold the next chapter of his life, and here you were still, stuck in an endless cycle, wondering if you’d ever get to start on a new chapter of yours, too.

Jeno Lee hadn't exactly matched whom you pictured in your head.

When there was Jaemin and Donghyuck, it was kind of an unspoken rule that your one-way ticket to the nearest psychiatric ward was to be willingly associated with the likes of them. 

Years of dealing with their joint efforts of embodying the human version of a headache, you kind of knew how to deal with whatever Jeno could potentially have in store for you. Jaemin and Donghyuck got along like a house on fire when the weather was fair, or when the planets aligned by some convoluted space related jargon Jisung would happily indulge any of you with. On any other day, they simply could not stand each other, wanting nothing to do with the other and arguing for the sake of arguing.

Still, they were the best of friends and having their differences was simply unavoidable, yet the many similarities they shared became a sturdy foundation for their friendship to last a long time.

Being unapologetically insane was one of them.

One’s involvement automatically entailed that they were just as deranged to some degree, and seeing the elusive piece to the trio you weren’t even aware was a trio, Jeno Lee—in the flesh—with a smile so sweet and unassuming gave you an earth-shattering wake-up call and reminder that you probably shouldn’t solely rely on baseless assumptions, especially when it came to people. Insane friends aside.

Other than that, you didn’t think a man with a face and body carefully sculpted by marble and brought to life by the gods themselves would be up to some milder version of fuckery like they were, now that Jeno thought to introduce himself.

The apartment felt staggeringly bigger than what you were used to with the absence of what made it belong to Mark too, though Jeno did a swell enough job to fill in the empty spaces with his presence alone.

It was brief. The meeting with the potential roommate, but nothing short of nerve-wracking when the man had the vibe of a quintessential supermodel top modeling agencies would fight tooth and nail for, decked in athleisure that had shown how he was built to all hell. A hundred-eighty-something centimeters of lean muscle cut with precision; clearly the fruit of Jeno’s possibly strict lifestyle, quietly taking everything in with a sense of wonder, yet simultaneously staying attentive as you ran your mouth about the apartment’s features and how sharing possible expenses would work.

You know, the vital stuff you’d want to know when it involved sharing your space with another person.

Which raised a few questions from Jeno himself. Little things along the lines of how often trash would be collected? If the apartment complex had a laundry room and if not, was there a laundromat by at least walking distance? How about a convenience store? A gym closer than his current one? These were answered fairly quickly, from which Jeno seemed pleased when his eyes turned into little half moons when he smiled, bringing your attention to the beauty mark under his right eye. God, was it adorable and frankly, you still couldn’t believe he chose to associate with two of the most annoying people you knew.

It was cute. Jeno Lee was cute, but among everything he had going on—your wandering eyes greatly appreciated the free viewing—his voice was what stuck out to you the most with how gentle he had spoken.

A voice deep and rumbly, yet warmth coated each syllable rattling the beating palm-sized thing in your chest the more the carefully articulated sentences passed through Jeno’s naturally pouted lips. He talked like he was trying to get into your good graces; like talking in any other way would risk disrupting the pleasant ambience set in stone before Jeno’s visit, which wasn’t at all necessary when Mark practically sang his praises.

And Jeno was all Mark talked about post-moving out.

Seriously, if he hadn’t chosen the medical path like you had, Mark Lee would have made a mean sales rep. You even felt the need to stop him and ask if he was still talking about a human being and not a brand new car right after he had his fill of listing down exactly why you should take Jeno in. How he essentially met all your admittedly nit-picky roommate requirements. 

Mild-temperament. What was he, a dog? Jeno was neat and tidy. Claimed that he couldn't function if measly things such as a coaster was askew. Oh good. A neat freak just like me. There were also a few pages of referrals Mark had shown—yes, printed—from previous landlords and roommates because that was a thing, apparently. Squeaky clean criminal record (with a cute face like that, it didn’t come as a surprise). Worked in tech. In the same income bracket as you.

A Taurus man.

Which shouldn’t have given you that much of a start, really. You haven’t had much experience dealing with any Taurus people—a Taurus man, no less, so this would be decidedly new.

He is reliable, persistent, and down-to-earth, with a strong sense of duty and an admirable work ethic; the kind of guy you can always count on in both your personal and professional life. He is not one to make waves or cause drama; he just wants to do his job and go home at the end of the day. A Taurus man is all about practicality, stability, and security. 

He wants nothing more than to provide the protection of his loved ones and create a harmonious home life.

At least that was what the article wrote (ignoring the in-your-face romantic tone. You were looking for a roommate, not a husband), sent by an astrology-fixated Donghyuck who seemed a little too eager providing his insight when asked for his opinion on Jeno and Taurus people in general being acquainted with you.

“A little stability won’t hurt. It’ll be good for you,” Donghyuck had mentioned over the phone after grilling you and your astrological sign, antagonizing you for no reason. It went mostly ignored though, preoccupied with reading a case you were assisting with Dr. Kim tomorrow. “and nothing screams stability more than Jeno’s credit score.”

An excellent credit score, from what Mark had relayed over cheap Chinese takeout and never would you have thought you’d cream your pants from that information, yet here you were. Financial stability was a viable trait you’d consider looking for in someone, so the decision was a no-brainer.

“Oh, before I go.”

You swallowed something down like a scream when Jeno whirled around to face you while digging into his gym bag. 

“Mark probably gave you the rundown about me but—” a folded piece of paper was produced from within the depths of his bag, having you blinking owlishly when he wriggled it for you to take.

Jeno’s palm was warm under the gentle brush of your fingers as you plucked it from his own set, pointedly ignoring the zing that jolted through you.

Arial. Font size twelve. Single spaced and justified, and it wrote what Mark had been yapping about all this time prior to having Jeno in the apartment. His MBTI, a rundown of his personality with all his quirks and habits included (you snorted rather loudly when catching the italicized ‘mild-temperament’). There was his daily routine that heavily emphasized his recreation time such as cycling, working out, gaming and a small pool of sports. His likes and dislikes, and making you laugh the loudest was his disclaimer, something Jeno was rather proud of when you caught his pleased smile.

Disclaimer: Homebody, but will go out with you if you ask nicely. I get lost in gaming a lot so you might have to knock very loudly, or even call my phone. I get sulky very easily. Please be nice to me (.◜◡◝)

The emoticon was just the cherry on top. It looked so much like him—an absolutely precious detail that you had to do a side-by-side comparison, only to find him already gazing at you in wonder.

He cleared his throat, smiling and cheeks glowing with the faintest of color. “I figured you’d want a detailed resumé. He said you’d appreciate it.” Jeno joked with the smile widening into a soft grin that showcased his perfect white teeth, long fingers raking through his dark blue hair, both in a manner that screamed boyish and charming.

He was charming, which came as a belated, mortifying realization. Nano seconds was all it took to picture life sharing everything with a cute-faced gym rat and his equally cute grin you’d have to face every single waking day for fuck knows how long until you went insane.

It could either be the best or the worst thing to come out of this. You’re not sure yet.

Though it’s as if Jeno sensed your mental turmoil because he didn’t even give you a second to rethink, leaning in close enough that you got a whiff of his cologne as he poked a particular spot on the paper a few times, grin dimming into something gentler where his eyes gained this puppy-ish quality to them followed by a head tilt.

“My number is on here,” he stressed with one last poke to his number, ducking his head low enough to catch your gaze. “Call or text me if I make the cut, yeah?”

And as the door shut behind Jeno after flashing you one last dazzling smile, you slumped against the wall with a harsh sigh, mind racing and heart about to fly out of your rib cage with the paper still clutched tightly in between your fingers.

Jesus.

You: I think I just saw a god

Mark (ER): lol? 😆 Mark (ER): how was it with Jeno

You: i literally just said i think i saw a god

Approximately three hours later, you’ve earned yourself a Mark replacement, much to the namesake’s chagrin and stealing a piece of your chicken tenders as a form of retribution.

Approximately a week and half later, Jeno hung his degree and graduation portrait next to yours right above the TV, a detail both of you found hilarious and continued to giggle over even after clearing two greasy boxes of pizza for your first dinner together as roommates. 

Approximately two months or so later, Jeno had unknowingly made an enemy for himself:

You.

II.

“When you go out your way and you don’t see a change.” 

Frankly, being in this sticky situation could have been avoided entirely if you hadn’t let Mark’s flattery towards your roommate lure you into a false sense of security.

Frequent reassurance was an absolute necessity.

It was good to just know about things and your ex-roommate had made Jeno sound promising the handful of times your conversation would segue to him. It was your own hubris in Mark’s reassurance that had led you to this—that, and Mark had perfected the art of persuasion with words.

He’d always been good at spinning the narrative for his own advantage (Jeno’s in this case). Too good, in fact, where everything that flew past his mouth left no room for worry to fester when you’ve not yet lost anything of significance from trusting Mark and his judgment.

That was until you did. Blindsided by soft grins, half-moon eyes and a killer body you’d catch yourself quietly admiring whenever Jeno, oddly enough, took to working out in the living area.

So in conclusion, this was all Mark’s fault.

“This is all your fault.”

“Yo, what?” Mark laughed in that way where you just knew that he knew he fucked up. Forced, awkward, and a little terrified of what was about to come. “What’d I do?” He asked anyway, knowing he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without finding out just what he did to get accused.

“You shouldn’t have pimped Jeno out to me—“

Mark rolled his eyes. “Not what I did—“

“Pimped Jeno out to me, ‘else I wouldn’t be suffering this much.”

“Hold on—you asked me to help look for a roommate,” he started, voice pitching up in disbelief. “And I spent days helping you sort out every important detail—even the nit-picky ones—for you! Only to ask for someone who wasn’t even listed on the fuckin’ doc. And in the end, you said yes!"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah. Clearly a mistake on my part."

As he ranted, Mark’s gestures grew more and more frantic in defense of himself, only for his arms to fall back to his sides with a huff when you barely blinked, unimpressed, and then folding them above his chest with a pout before mumbling, “how’d you even find out about the criminal record and the weird fish owner anyway?”

You graced him with a lazy shrug. “Fascinating what you can achieve with technology.”

He stilled, squinting in thought before letting out a resigned sigh. “Donghyuck.”

“Duh? The closest I got to hacking was looking for a cracked Sims 2 copy.” You soon got grounded by Dad when you had infected the family computer with malware, sadly. “Hyuck’s surprisingly useful when wants to be.”

Or greedy. Ten dollars were raised once you goaded Donghyuck into sussing out any deal-breakers with a snide comment or two slipping out about him not being able to find anything that would make you second guess any of the potential roommates. Naturally, Donghyuck took your provocation rather seriously, treating it as the be-all and end-all to prove a point.

Ten minutes later, he was ten dollars richer. Crazy what people would do for money.

“Conflict of interest!” you raised again, loudly, making Mark flinch. “I barely get six hours of sleep now because of your emotional ties with my sworn enemy.”

Sure there were many benefits of being approachable, but you were somewhat of a negative Nancy and all you could think of was how Mark’s painstaking kindness could potentially get taken advantage of by some lurking asshole out there.

Which was exactly what had happened. With you as collateral.

“Uh, not gonna lie, but I think you’re being a little dramatic,” he sniffed, biting roughly into the sandwich you graciously made for him. Biting the hands that fed him, how lovely.

“I’m being dramatic?” you said, incredulous, and then flicked his forehead just to hear him cry out in pain. “Okay—try having Jeno’s headboard slamming against the wall as your lullaby, which—surprise, surprise—won’t help you sleep at all!”

You paused to regulate your breathing because you were getting a little too heated and you didn’t want to traumatize Mark even more by angrily exploding into pieces. Even as a nurse and though rare, he still got a little squeamish.

“I’m just saying, you’d think he’d have some shame and invest in those rubber bumpers, but no—he just had to make sure I know he’s getting way more sex than me.”

And he did. Have way more sex than you, that is, which was kind of insane now that you’ve thought about it. Ego-bruising too when the sounds you desperately tried to drown out still breached through a pair of neon green earplugs stuck deep as they could go into your ear holes. His questionable refractory period kept you up on most nights he had girls over, wondering how short it was that he’s able to bounce back and keep you up until the witching hour with the awful remix of moans, groans, screams and whatever noises one could make during sex. Why was it always the innocent looking ones the freakiest? Why must you suffer through all this?

You made a low noise in your throat, almost like a growl just thinking about what you've gone through the last few weeks. Fucking asshole.

Mark’s eyes widened. Whether it was from your admission, or the almost inhuman sound you made, the simmering rage wasn’t that hard to miss. The moment Mark walked into the apartment, he could visibly tell how wound up you were from your pinched expression while you waited for the bread to toast.

He’s been here for almost two hours and you have yet to relax. Mark’s current concern was what if your face gets permanently stuck scowling like that?

“Huh,” he breathed out, “didn’t know Jeno got bitches that often.”

“Mark.”

Mark immediately backtracked at the edge to your voice. “Uh, I mean—“ he cleared his throat, “fuck Jeno. I hope his dick, like, falls off.”

The beseeching shine of his eyes for your approval would have been something to laugh at if it weren’t for the anger taking full reign of the receptors responsible for regulating your emotions, not letting it process anything but the bottled up frustration from weeks of enduring the extra noises accompanying most of your nights.

So much for creating a harmonious home life with a Taurus man. Fuck that article, fuck whoever wrote it, and fuck Jeno Lee in particular. Seriously.

“You’re more pissed off than usual.”

“Yeah? Hadn’t noticed,” you said dryly.

“Dude, c’mon. Y’know what I mean,” Mark giggled, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away with a whine when he tried to go for the other. “Sorry, sorry—just—I feel like he did more if you—“ he made a vague gesture to the air in front of you “—are this upset.”

“I think keeping me up with the horrendously loud fucking takes the cake.”

“I dunno. You lost your fuckin’ marbles when I ate your food that one time.” He shuddered, knowing fully well how touchy you were with the prepped meals you slaved for hours every Saturday. “Was that what he did? That’s the one thing I told him not to do.”

Being this far into your career, cooking was almost like a chore since you barely had any opportunities to cook actual at-home-meals that required significant amounts of time and patience. You could even say that it was more appropriate to call it a luxury almost as most of your time was dedicated to the hospital—to your patients whose lives were also in your hands, and pre-made food was the only solution to fit three-meals-a-day into your demanding schedule.

The long-lasting effects of when he, out of sheer desperation, snatched your jar of banana chia pudding still lingered when he always made it a point to ask if he could have one bite, or a quick sip after the rather traumatizing verbal lashing you’ve subjected him to.

“No. Jeno knows not to do that at least.”

Like Mark, it’s the one thing you had stressed right when you had Jeno settle in. Not that he minded, sans the obligatory head tilt when he didn’t quite get it until your further explanation. He even offered his help with the meal-prep which kind of—for a fleeting moment—made you feel a little guilty thinking back to the conversation (puppy eyes, full lips jutted out into a thoughtful pout. More puppy eyes and Jeno’s weird, trademarked noises of confusion) until you were violently reminded of his fuckery.

Perhaps the whole golden retriever-like temperament and attentiveness balanced out his newly discovered predilection for whoring himself out.

Mark heaved a heavy sigh as if he was the one with a 24/7 sex noise problem. “Well, what could be worse than Jeno banging some random chick?”

You gave him a grim smile.

See, the thing was, it hadn’t always been like this.

You were no stranger to peace as you did get a generous taste of it with Jeno thrown into the mix. A peaceful coexistence between a surgical nurse and some tech guy.

A routine had been built around having different work hours where you were mostly gone from morning to evening when you weren’t on-call, while Jeno was, more often than not, stationary since he had the choice to either work from home on his elaborate PC set-up, or in the office he’d drive to when needed.

It was relatively normal. Jeno stayed true to the being neat claim and he kept to himself most of the time. He did his set of chores listed on the mini whiteboard stuck to the fridge and proved himself to be quite the efficient handyman also; assembling furniture with ease as well as fixing up superficial problems in the apartment. He was a decent cook too and Jeno generally acted what one would expect from a proper roommate who was here to make a home with you.

It had been normal. It had been peaceful, until you realized you were housing a potential sex fiend. What made this whole thing exponentially worse, though, was that the last girl he had brought home wasn't just some random chick that had fallen victim to Jeno’s charms.

It was Jimin Yu, your work best friend and the only other person who knew of your sleeping problem caused by the root of said problem whom you were starting to believe was sent to you as a divine punishment for fuck knows what. Which was kind of funny to think about considering Mark, his faith and him technically being the catalyst of it all, but you digressed. This was literally a slow-burn epidemic happening in real life, and yet no one else seemed to be alarmed by it.

Jimin Yu. Another promising young woman lost to some fucking loser (see: Jeno). Again. 

How you came to find out that it was your best friend getting her back blown out six ways to fucking Sunday right before a full day of two major operations waiting for you to scrub and assist in was from pure accidental intuition alone.

And anger. 

Especially anger.

There was a self-imposed rule you strictly followed: do not leave your room until you were sure the chosen girl from Jeno’s seemingly never-ending roster left. Saving both you and the poor girl from the embarrassment was the least you could do when you yourself would rather avoid any risks of running into anyone in someone else’s home right after a hook-up.

And, well, there was a reason why the saying ‘rules are meant to be broken’ was popularized, because you broke that one simple rule that had supposedly kept your remaining sanity intact.

Two hours left before your shift started and you were more husk than person from the lack of sleep. All rationale completely consumed by anger, an ever-present emotion that seemed to be the only thing that kept you going—and consequently, what had led you to shoot out of bed once the telltale sounds of Jeno’s door clicking open, followed by the hurried footsteps reached your ears.

You skidded to a stop, stunned.

“You motherfucker.”

This was the ultimate act of betrayal.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like!” Was Jimin’s immediate defense right when the thunderous twist to your face grew more and more pronounced with each stomp of your feet. Yet her words didn’t exactly help her case when:

There were obvious splashes of reds, blues and purples marking her slender neck.

Her hair was a downright mess, and you knew Jimin harbored some sort of complex for her long luscious locks, so this was new—her not bothering to comb it out, clearly in a rush to leave.

There was a slight limp in her step which just said everything.

And lastly, you caught Jeno sneaking Jimin out of his room and out of the fucking apartment, clearly expecting to not run into you.

“Ah-ah. No,” you interrupted before she could even start groveling. “I’ll deal with you later. Get out.”

Jimin’s shoulders sagged, big wet eyes staring into your very soul and it took you a Herculean amount of strength to keep your gaze ahead and not break under her stare; to keep your gaze set on the main perpetrator who, unlike Jimin, appeared rather contrary to her apparent distress. 

Jeno stood underneath the awning in only—goodness—only a pair of gym shorts where you could clearly make out a hefty looking dick-print, completely at ease and infuriatingly handsome in spite of the disheveled state he was in; matching bruises bloomed on his milky skin, scratches littered his arms, shoulders and back and his hair was left as an artful mess atop his head. 

You wanted to scream.

This was all Jeno’s fault. Not even the hurt pinching Jimin’s normally serene features was enough to lessen the tension wounding up your entire body. Not when you were already neck-deep in your own pool of unfiltered rage to even consider comforting Jimin’s momentary lapse in judgment and decision to have earth-shatteringly loud sex with your mortal enemy that the whole damn apartment complex might as well have heard.

(“I’m surprised Jimin isn’t getting as much heat since she slept with your ‘problem’. On purpose.”

You shrugged. “Men are the root of all evil.”

“Fair enough,” Mark mumbled and took a gargantuan bite of the next sandwich assembled for him. It was really a mystery how he settled down before you).

And—look, you really couldn’t care less if Jeno slept around. It was his life and he had free reign over his own body, and let’s face it, there was no way he didn’t get an obscene amount of matches on Tinder when he embodied a walking wet dream.

Jeno was far from being in your good graces at this current moment, but staying blind to the truth would only get you so far when Jeno had the physical advantages to attest to that, and the same could be said for Jimin. She could hook-up with whoever she pleased—just as easily too. Hell, you’d sleep with her too if you were a little bit interested in her—because who were you to disprove her choices? All of you were adults here, but what the main issue here was Jimin knew you had one-sided beef with your abnormally attractive roommate that fucks too loud no matter how many times you reminded him to try and keep it down, and yet she still pushed on and contributed to the recurring problem.

Truer words had never been said until Mark. You really did hope Jeno’s dick shrivels up and falls off.

Now, preferably.

Right when the door had closed behind Jimin with a soft click (after dragging her feet and sending pleading looks over her shoulder like a sad wet cat) did all the pent-up anger come out in a mess of heated words and frantic gestures.

“What the fuck.”

Each breath you took had been deep and harsh. Your face was bordering on hot to the touch from the sheer amount of rage coursing through your veins and the arduous task of resisting the urge to reach out and subject permanent damage physically, mentally and emotionally by how tightly you had clenched your fists. You could already imagine it, hands stretching towards Jeno’s neck and wringing it like a wet hand towel until it ripped in your hands—

Your roommate reacted then, as if just realizing that this wasn’t you doing a bit. It made you think of how likely it could be that Jeno got away with many things simply for being the very few that had pretty privilege as a crutch to fall onto. As for you, it would be nice to have an actual metal crutch within arm’s reach to hit him with.

He was pretty to look at, sure, but not privileged enough to keep your eye from twitching in irritation when Jeno looked the least bothered by your display, long eyelashes fluttering with each of his confused and owlish blinking.

“What?” Jeno, the village idiot, asked with imploring eyes.

“What? What do you mean ‘what’? are you—“ you cut yourself off with an incredulous, borderline manic laugh at his testosterone-filled audacity. “Are you so desperate for sex that you had to go for Jimin?”

It’s not like he wasn’t allowed to bring his own friends over since you shared the same rotation of friends and acquaintances, but really, Jimin?

“I didn’t know Jimin was off-limits. You never mentioned it.” Jeno blinked slowly with a sheepish smile. “I’ll keep that in mind next time?”

“Are you fucking—were you even listening to me? Not just now, but before too. I told you to keep it down! Many many times! I need to sleep, Jeno!”

He huffed a laugh. “Technically, it’s not really my fault if they can’t keep it down, y’know?” 

You could only stare in disbelief, mouth ajar at the fact that he’s able to act proud during an argument he was likely to lose. Like dicking down someone so loud that it became a public disturbance was some kind of achievement with the way Jeno puffs out his very naked chest in the most subtlest of ways.

He wasn’t finished talking, taking your silence as a prompt to continue with a cloying curl of his mouth. “I could show you why, if you want.”

“Excuse me?”

If Jeno knew what was good for him, he would stop running his mouth right this very second. Though over time, you started to pick up on the very unfortunate fact that he lacked tact at times, and what he had let slip through his lips next proved as much.

“I’m saying,” he dragged out, like he was expecting you to catch on. “Sex reduces stress, right? The endorphin and oxytocin rush—I’ll assume you already knew that, being a nurse and all. Woman in STEM,” Jeno sang a little jingle, the smile widening into a grin that was a touch too suggestive for your liking. “I can see that you’re pent up, and I think fucking it out of you—fucking the uptightness out of you would do both of us good. A win-win situation.”

Whatever was left of the rose-tinted image of the man who had first walked into the apartment donning the sweetest eye-smile you had ever laid eyes on was wiped just like that. His grin that was meant to convey light-hearted teasing became the very image of mockery.

If you weren’t as furious then, you were now.

“Is that how you see me? Just another number to your body count?” 

It would have been funny, watching Jeno’s features twist from surprise to regret at the speed of light almost, but anything he did beyond this point just added to the stockpiled annoyance ready to be spit up again the next time Jeno thought to push his luck. So no, this wasn’t hilarious in the slightest.

“I didn’t say that—”

“You implied it.”

“That’s—I was joking!”

You scoffed, “that’s not surprising. Do you think my job’s a ‘joke’ too?”

This was exhausting. You had already lost a significant amount of sleep you needed to get through work that would start in two hours—well, less now that you’ve taken the time to completely go off the rails until some semblance of remorse showed on Jeno’s person. As satisfying as it was to witness that happen in real-time, asking some time off of work just to process The Confrontation™ was a no-no, given how important your presence was in the OR and it just so happened that you couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

He should’ve added ‘insatiable horndog’ to his disclaimer.

Jeno made it clear that he had nothing else to follow up on, doing a horrible impression of a fish out of water that you had taken as your cue to leave.

And for the first time in forever, you couldn’t wait to breathe in the antiseptic smell of the hospital.

Being this bothered by your cold indifference was not at all on Jeno’s bingo card.

Jeno was within your visage when you came through the door, yet you paid him no mind as you bee-lined towards your bedroom, like he didn’t exist to you. And, okay, maybe he did deserve that—no, he for sure deserved that after hours of reflecting. He wasn’t sure if you’d appreciate his excuse of not really being aware that the walls were thinner than he had thought.

Jeno winced at the mini play-by-play in his head.

You definitely wouldn’t.

The clock droned on and on with its never-ending ticking. Just a quarter past eight in the evening, Jeno checked, and his heart lurched to his throat, sitting up straighter from his perch at the island counter when you finally emerged from your room. Have you forgiven him? Did this mean you were on talking terms again? Because if he had to be honest, being ignored was a lot worse than you threatening to bite his head off. At least then you were technically talking to him still and not trying to erase his existence with sheer willpower alone.

All hope of making things right, however, was shot down the moment Jeno took a quick look at your change of clothes and the large duffle bag slung over your shoulder.

Panic welled in his chest, causing him to blurt out a garbled, “where are you going?” as you headed straight for the front door.

“Anywhere but here.”

Although there was no heat behind your words from the absence of the anger you had toted around this morning, being hit by your impassive stare has him biting back the haha nice Harry Potter reference. The poorly-timed joke from this morning was the final nail in the coffin and making another one now was a sure-fire way of getting buried six feet under. Alive.

Shortly after, the door closed behind you with a soft click. Much like how Jimin left when you had sent her out, leaving Jeno alone with the deafening silence as his only companion, the pit in his stomach growing when he peeled his gaze from the paneled door to fall onto the pair of steaming cups of coffee.

Mornings for Jeno started with you standing in front of the coffee machine, half-asleep and grumbling threats to the inanimate thing. He’d grown accustomed to the sight of your sleep-ruffled state that it was obvious you had quite the fixation on coffee. At least one cup a day, three at most, you had said with a bashful smile when he caught you pouring your third cup.

Coffee was a necessity in this household. Jeno knew that, knew how you liked to drink yours and he thought making you a cup exactly how you’d like it could melt away the thick walls you had built. A peace offering, or what was supposed to be a peace offering.

Two cups sat on the quartz countertop. One almost empty while the other remained untouched even as Jeno retired for the night.

Jeno walked into an empty kitchen the morning after.

A kitchen devoid of your sleepy form that would be threatening the coffee machine to spit out the liquid bitterness faster, or else. The silence was just as deafening and the cup—your cup—was where he left it the night before in hopes of you coming back home.

You didn’t.

Fuck.

III.

“Prove me wrong by doing it right.”

“And you stayed where? For two weeks?”

“Jaem and Hyuck’s.”

Mark grimaced. “Willingly?”

You gave him a pointed look.

He raised his hands in defense. “I’m just sayin’ you have better options—like Sungchan?” Your face softened, offering a lazy shrug. “Me?”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought. “Yeah, no.”

While you had made plenty of jokes that would last a lifetime consisting of moving in with Mark and ‘the love of his life’, ranging from them becoming your second set of parents, to you being Just There with your best friend married and with kids, the appeal of third wheeling hadn’t increased in the slightest.

“I’ve had enough moaning and groaning haunting my dreams, thanks.” You snorted at the scandalized look on Mark’s face. “and I wouldn’t want to impose on Sungchan and Chenle. Thing One and Thing Two weren’t too bad.”

Although the stay had been surprisingly pleasant, with all things considered, they did poke fun at the situation at first because—duh, men. Regardless, their combined hospitality staved off the possibility of a psychotic break triggered by Jeno’s fuck-up. It would have been better if their third bedroom hadn’t been made into Marie Kondo’s personal nightmare, but the vomit green couch had been a comfortable makeshift bed. Who knew you’d end up loving the product of Jaemin’s horrendous tastes?

Jeno stayed as elusive as ever, too. You came home when you could, only to replenish your clothing and other necessities and much to your relief, you hadn’t run into him yet. Not at the apartment, not at the guys’ place (shockingly) and there was a brief moment where you thought your roommate might turn up at the hospital, what with the onslaught of texts you received, most of them apologizing and begging for you to come home, there was a time where you dreaded going to work in light of the possibility.

(“You’d think Jeno was your boyfriend with the way he’s blowing up your phone,” Donghyuck hollered from the kitchen, in the middle of cooking dinner for everyone. “He’s getting desperate with each text, babe. Even I’m feeling a little sorry for the guy.”

You looked up from the puzzle you were working on the floor with Jaemin to stare at Donghyuck, then to the space where you remembered leaving your phone on its own and now just noticing its disappearance. “How’d you get my phone? How’d you guess my passcode?”

“Zero-zero-zero-zero wasn’t that hard to guess,” Jaemin mumbled. “You’ve always been simpleminded about these things—which reminds me—you still use the same Netflix account since college, right?”).

Jeno was a no-show, thankfully. Causing a scene at work, of all places, would be way beneath you no matter how much he pissed you off.

Still, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t talk your shit from time to time.

“They’re probably faking it,” you concluded with a scoff and then quickly backtracked. “No. I know they’re faking it and it doesn’t even matter if Jeno’s tall, muscular, handsome, capable—” Mark’s eyebrows rose higher and higher, disappearing beneath his bangs as you continued on with your tangent.

“Precious eye smile—definitely a manipulation tactic… it worked on me.”

That one, you mumbled mostly to yourself, but it was audible enough to earn a short laugh from Mark which quickly snapped you out of whatever the hell that was, and then scowled when your ex-roommate, the catalyst for your suffering, tried to keep his face straight. He was doing a terrible job.

Clearing your throat—far too many times than necessary—you ignored the warmth that bloomed on the apples of your cheeks along with Mark’s insufferably knowing smirk. “My point is, there’s no way he’d be good at sex too. Like, you’re telling me Jeno made all those girls cum? Fat fucking chance. I’m sure there’s, like, a statistic disproving that.”

You didn’t even want to think what Jimin went through, especially when you’ve gotten a glimpse of what monster was begging to be freed from Jeno’s gym shorts. But like clockwork, Mark had to ruin that brief fantasy of you being right about Jeno’s possibly (hopefully) weak stroke game.

“Eh, I’d have to disagree on that one.”

How did he even know that?

“How do you even know that?” You groaned, “I’m distressed enough as it is, Mark, please be serious.”

“I am serious! I literally have the facts to back it up!”

“And what, I’m supposed to believe you?” All you were given was a stare, an arch of an eyebrow just begging to be plucked and shaped, and nothing else. “Fine, what are these facts based on?”

“Testimonies. Plenty of them.”

Your features twisted into that of disgust. “Were you there? In the corner watching him get his dick wet? Like some pervert?”

Mark appeared as though he regretted the decision of coming here. You didn’t want to be here in the first place, so it’s only fair that none of you were having a good time. Might as well make Mark your personal verbal punching bag while you were at it.

“Jesus,” he dragged a hand down his face. The perfect image of exasperation. “The mouth on you sometimes.” 

“Sorry,” you quipped, not sorry at all.

This time, Mark let out a groan much similar to yours, obviously not liking where the direction of the already bizarre conversation was heading. This upcoming headache (see: you) was rightfully deserved though since Mark did lend a hand in forcing you into a situation so embarrassing that you’d take instant death over being an unwilling voyeur to Jeno’s many many late night sexcapades.

“Okay, okay, okay—” Mark began as if the rapid-fire speech wasn’t enough to get your attention, or the fact that it was just the two of you hanging out in the kitchen. “You know how my girl hosts girls’ night every two weeks?”

“How could I forget?” you chuckled. “I missed the one two nights ago and your girlfriend’s really good at guilt-tripping.”

“Yeah,” he trailed off with a tender smile. “yeah—uh, she wanted everyone to be there.” Your own smile was knowing, a smidge teasing even and it was enough for Mark’s cheeks to pinken. “Anyways! One of the girls was painting my nails, right?” He wiggled his fingers, showing his mustard yellow painted fingernails with daisy decals, being the girls’ go-to mannequin every girls’ night. “Aeri brought up hooking up with Jeno a few times from like, a year ago, then it became this whole thing of the girls sharing their own experiences—and wow, you girls are just as gross with the details, like, for real—turns out, they all slept with him at some point! Crazy, right?”

“Even your girlfriend?”

Mark smiled, sheepish. Quite the contrast to your horrified expression. “They shared a gen-ed class. College sophomore year. She went to his frat’s party, they hooked up once and never again.”

“Please tell me the girls hated it at least.”

Mark’s jaw closed with a click, lips pressing into a thin line. “Y’know, I don’t think the word ‘hate’ was like, ever thrown around, honestly.”

Good lord—okay, so Jeno was kind of a slut then. A slut that had infiltrated your friend group (and fucked Mark’s girlfriend!) and left them unanimously agreeing that he earned his merit as an absolute god in bed. Go figure. This might as well be some divine force’s way of saying ‘go fuck yourself!’

“So I just have to live with it, is what you’re saying.”

“I mean…” His face twisted into an expression you couldn’t put your finger on and the nonsensical gesticulation didn’t provide any concrete context needed. Either way, you just knew you wouldn’t like whatever he says next. “If it bothers you that much, just find a new place. You’ve been here long enough.”

“In this economy?” you exclaimed. “That’s like asking me to kill myself!”

Not to mention drastic when you had already paid half of this month’s rent along with the other expenses—as did Jeno—and you really couldn’t afford splurging extra to get away from one minor—major inconvenience. Plus, you were pretty attached to the place.

Deciding on that was kind of a tempting solution, however. You had forgotten what it was like living alone after you and Mark thought to rent a place together post-graduation since you both agreed it was cost-effective, but if Jeno was smart enough to repent for his sins of stealing (sleep) from thy neighbor (roommate), you wouldn’t leave him to fend for himself.

“I should have stayed back and talked to Hyuck about this,” you droned, narrowing your eyes when all Mark did was snort at both your joke and your bias for Thing Number Two (Donghyuck). “He would at least agree that Jeno’s dick’s bigger than his brain.”

Which was farthest from the truth, actually.

Painful as it was to admit, the certificate of Jeno graduating from a joint program of Computer Science and Cyber Security as Magna Cum Laude was tangible proof that Jeno Lee’s brain was wired properly to some extent that It made your own certificate of graduating Cum Laude from your nursing program a bit lackluster. It was an inside joke you both shared; where your degrees and graduation portraits weren’t all that useless as they had been perfect for decoration.

All that’s left now was a sour reminder that Jeno got more bitches than you did every time you glanced up at the immortalized version of him. Looming above the flat screen TV with the effortless sweep of his hair and the sweet, canned smile he flashed at the camera.

While you spent hours to at least make it seem like you hadn’t been trampled on from the harrowing events of final exams, back-to-back practicals and soul-sucking internships, Jeno hardly looked like he had put in any effort—like an in-the-making supermodel taking his head-shots. His hair was in its natural shade of black, longer too with a subtle mullet going. Jeno looked younger, untouched by the trials and tribulations adult life granted anyone breaching that point and less like the sex fiend you would hiss at as a knee-jerk reaction.

The Jeno now fitted the latter description to a tee. This rugged look he’s got going on for him screamed trouble. He embodied what sex on legs meant as well as being the guy a god-fearing father would tell you to stay away from. 

Having said all that, you still thought that even hot people deserved to be humbled. Ever the one to talk shit about someone that had wronged you behind their back yourself, and Donghyuck was always a great shit-talking partner.

“Nice to know you still don’t listen to me. It’s like I’ve never moved out at all.”

“Maybe if you gave actual sound advice, I would.”

“Advice,” Mark parroted, following that up with a short laugh of disbelief. “you want advice? Okay, here’s one—avoiding Jeno won’t put a stop to this. Maybe all of this—whatever this is—could be resolved if you would just, oh, I don’t know, talk to him? Talk like proper adults would? Lay some ground rules or some shit, I don’t know.”

“I already did that! Many times, if you recall what we just talked about, and look where it got me.” 

Temporarily living off of the vomit green couch in exchange for better quality of sleep? Yeah, this was definitely a new low for you.

“Would you bail me out if I was charged for man-slaughter? I’ll pay you back… in a few years.”

“No,” was Mark’s immediate answer. “I’m being serious, babe. Just… talk it out, yeah? Jeno’s worried, texting me and all.”

Huh. Never would you have thought that ‘Jeno’ and ‘worried’ could be mentioned in the same sentence when you sampled just how much Jeno couldn’t give less of a fuck towards the deep lines you had repeatedly drawn, crossing it multiple times, but you supposed there’s always a first time for everything; like how this was a first for you not putting blind faith into Mark’s words.

“I find that hard to believe,” you groused.

Mark’s whole face then twisted into the very expression he’d wear when he’s about to deliver a mean lecture. Unfortunately for you, you had never been an exception to them and you were his best friend! It defeated the whole purpose of the label and the privileges that came with it and as you braced yourself for his god-given right of bitching at you, the sound of the keypad’s beeping made both of you freeze, the fight visible on Mark’s person gone once the automatic lock clicked in place as your faces blenched.

Not one of you dared to move as you listened to Jeno skulking around the foyer with bated breaths.

You could hear a pin drop when your roommate’s shuffling came to an abrupt stop. Then came the sharp gasp, the heavy rushed footsteps and there Jeno was in all his muscled glory; again, in athleisure and panting as if he ran a marathon just to see if his hunch was right.

“Talk to him,” Mark gritted before his face brightened with a capitalistic grin that would usually fool almost everyone and whirled around to greet Jeno with a dialed up amount of enthusiasm. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”

Jeno was nonplussed by this, his gaze still stuck on you which granted a sinking feeling in your stomach when he didn’t do anything else. No smile, no nothing and Mark didn’t seem to pick up on the growing tension. That, or he simply just chose not to acknowledge it, making nice out of self-preservation.

“You look great!” It was kind of painful watching Mark acting as the buffer, yet unknowingly stall Jeno and the impending doom of talking to him. “Strong! You look strong—” as Mark said this, he gave Jeno’s bicep a friendly slap, only for him to reel it back almost a half second later with wide eyes. “Uh, well! I was just leaving—girlfriend’s looking for me so… bye!”

And there he went, leaving you to fend for yourself, but not before giving you a pointed look over Jeno’s shoulder that clearly said ‘fix this, or else’.

Or else, you huffed, Mark Lee couldn’t even hurt a fly—

“You’re home,” Jeno said, tone soft as ever despite the clear ire that was starting to bubble up to the surface from the way you caught his jaw clench. That didn’t stop your pettiness from taking over, however, making a sour face as you turned away from him to grab your favorite mug out of the cupboard.

“What an amazing observation,” you said with the same amount of excitement a school teacher would have if they were to be condescending. “Would you like a gold star?”

“I was worried,” and Jeno, ever the one to not rise to the bait shamelessly dangling right in front of his face, kept his voice even. “You left my texts on read. You didn’t return any of my calls.”

“Wow! It’s almost like I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, “‘worried’ my ass. You know damn well I left because of you, so you don’t get to act like I’m in the wrong when—“

Jeno cuts you off with a stern call of your name, like he’s had enough. Of what, exactly? As far as you knew, you were simply telling him the truth of the matter: he drove you away because one stubborn part of Jeno Lee refused to listen and admit that he was in the wrong.

Slowly, you twisted your neck to hit Jeno with the most chilling look known to man-kind as the familiar sensation of anger caused each of your muscles to stiffen. The one thing that kept you from tackling him to the ground was the abashed furrow of Jeno’s eyebrows and his downturned lips. He genuinely looked guilty. As guilty as a man could be from getting as much action as a blunt getting passed around a frat-party, but sadly for him, peace was never an option.

He could cry for forgiveness all he wanted and you’d only think of ways to make him cry even harder.

“Look,” Jeno began, eyes fluttering closed and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I just don’t understand why you had to go this far? Avoiding me for two weeks straight—I was worried,” he reiterated, eyes opening just for them to narrow accusingly. “I didn’t know where you were. Mark refused to tell me since ‘it wasn’t his business’—“ and honestly, if this were any other situation, you would have laughed at Jeno’s piss-poor imitation of Mark and the exaggerated air quotes. “—and I had to find out from Donghyuck, of all people, that you were staying with them!”

This was a first. Jeno was never one to completely lose his cool. Always the milder one between you both who knew how to keep his temper in check. Jeno was calm in every sense of the word, with placid smiles and solemn nods—composed even in the most dire of situations where tensions were high. A stark contrast to how you weren’t afraid of baring your teeth to let people know how you felt, swinging your emotions around as if they were a weapon.

Clearly, the Jeno that stood in front of you bore none of that. He was visibly upset—by what could be considered as ghosting him for two weeks straight, which would have been longer if Jeno had come later in the evening. You were starting to believe that the universe simply hated you to the point of cutting the streak.

You stayed quiet, letting your scowl do all the talking.

Jeno pinched his nose bridge. “I’m sorry I slept with Jimin, alright? It’ll never happen again if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed as you shut the cupboard harsher than intended, moving to head for the coffee machine. He still didn’t get it and you’ll need the extra caffeine in your system for this.

“This is not about you sleeping with Jimin! This is about you crossing lines I specifically told you not to cross! How about you try having someone’s life in your hands? My job isn’t a walk in the park, Jeno. I need to be alert. I need to have my head set on straight, but clearly, I can’t have any of that because I have to hear you fucking the next person who looks at you! If any of my patients die, it’s on you. If I lose my job because I let a patient die, it’s on you—why won’t this fucking thing work!”

Your last straw might as well be the shitty coffee machine proving, once again, how shitty it was. You were half-tempted to unplug the thing and chuck it at his head.

God, you were so fucking angry. The two weeks away from home was the semblance of peace you had desperately needed after almost jeopardizing an angioplasty case with Dr. Jung when you caught yourself handing the wrong type of suture he asked for. It was only luck that you were stuck with one of the more approachable surgeons from cardio, letting you off with a lighthearted ‘wake up’ as Dr. Jung gestured for the right one.

Jeno reached over, pressing down on a button while tilting his head. “Are you done?” He said along the low whir of the coffee machine, evidently trying not to laugh.

The minty waft of his breath hit your face and it was then did you notice how close he had gotten. Your toes almost touching as you blinked up to meet his eyes, confused at how fucking fast he got all up in your space while you ranted.

You scowled harder. “Yeah,” and wow, you knew Jeno was one of the few lucky ones who grew to be tall. Height was one of the obvious physical advantages he had, but when put into perspective, having him like this—almost chest to chest—made a huge difference. You felt so small underneath Jeno’s imposing dead-eyed stare as if he was gauging his prey; a silent dare for you to make one sudden move knowing he’d catch you in the end after playing with you for a little, one way or another. “Yeah, I’m done.”

A small smile tugged on his lips. “Less work for me then.”

“Huh?”

Jeno dipped his head so quickly that it took you a second or two to register his lips pressing against yours.

Jeno Lee. The very same Jeno Lee you imagined exploding in your head too many times to the point you grew bored of the gory image enough to consider telepathically saying I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia I hope you get chlamydia until it takes and manifests in real life, was kissing you. This was far from the initial possible outcome you would expect in light of the cold war wedging a gap between you that the backasswards had all higher functions of your brain—and possibly the one that had telepathy locked away forever—shut down when he angled his head to press deeper, as if to coax you into becoming an active participant.

The only options left for you to consider were: a.) kiss him back b.) kiss him back since it became crystal clear that whatever method of psychological warfare Jeno waged wasn’t worth stopping. For reference, option b was the obvious choice. The emphasis, the drama of it all complemented your own flair for dramatics and you would rather drop dead than let Jeno have the upper hand. And maybe because you were insane, choosing anything but resolving the issue with a proper talk, and good lord can the man kiss.

It’s his lips, you thought bitterly, lips of plump and petal-pink goodness melding against your own slightly chapped pair that rendered you uncharacteristically pliant.

Normally, you were anything but, though it was a little rewarding to know that Jeno was losing it just as much; the finesse to his methods gradually chipping away along the push and pull of your mouths with the delicious burden of his weight pressing you against the counter to have more than just a taste. A small window was open for some lucidity to seep in, that being Jeno’s forethought of wriggling a hand in between the edge of the counter top and your back so it wouldn’t jab at your spine as the other cupped your jaw, shuddering when his pinky brushed along a sensitive spot behind your ear.

Jeno smiled at this. You felt him smile at this, but you were still stuck on the oddly sweet gesture that you thought to show some gratitude by returning the same level of eagerness Jeno had, suckling and biting down on his bottom lip. At his whine, you promptly soothed the spot with a languid swipe of your tongue and did it all over again. Not that he minded. You could practically tell just how excited he was; all bricked up and prodding the softness of your belly, and he didn’t seem to be embarrassed by it at all. You didn’t think he would be when he had quite the package. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that.”

There’s a wry grin tugging at his lips when you both parted for some air. “All I could think about was shutting you up every single time you bitch at me.” He regained the closeness just to brush his lips against your cheek, sighing almost in a dreamy-like manner that you were half-tempted to back out. “You’re so cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t piss me off,” you settled on saying instead as a warning, yet let Jeno—taking it as a cue—lift you up and place you on top of the counter without any struggle that you didn’t even try to hide the fact that the display of Jeno’s raw strength was doing it for you. An infuriatingly attractive feat and you supposed your thought on the matter translated on your face well enough if Jeno’s cheeky grin was anything to go by.

Still, the spread of your legs was no less inviting, something Jeno found funny as he snickered to himself before taking the space in between them for you to wind your arms around his sturdy shoulders and pull him down for another kiss. Mostly to shut him up. Yes, definitely to shut him up.

Jeno parted from you again with an audible smack, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your waist. “Personally—”

You groaned, “oh here we go.”

“Personally,” Jeno tried again, ignoring your yelp when he gave a playful pinch to your skin. “I still think that you’re so pent up that everything annoys you—like me having a healthy sex-life, for example.”

This was it. This was definitely rock-bottom. You were finally in the trenches that you’re entertaining an actual conversation relating to Jeno’s fixation of sticking his dick into willing holes more times than you could count. Oh, and the fact that you were starting to become a little self-conscious from not getting any forms of sex on the regular unlike mister casanova over here.

You hit him with a dubious look. “Where are you even going with this?”

Jeno let out a low hum in lieu of an actual answer and pulled you forward as if he wasn’t already up in your space, the tip of his strong nose gently grazing yours, his lips doing pretty much the same thing too: a gentle brush against your own twitchy pair when he murmured, “don’t you want to let off a little steam? I can help. I want to help.”

And that rightfully stumped you. Not because it was the second time he propositioned you, with the first being more of a joke than anything, but how Jeno actually came off genuine this time around. Not a trace of the smugness could be found either. Just unbridled zeal that being scrutinized by the darkness of Jeno’s gaze birthed a familiar simmering of—horrifyingly enough—want beneath your navel.

There was an argument that could be made here. Where the stubborn part of you could simply claim that it was your curiosity coming into play—wanting to see for yourself if what Mark (and the girls) had said about Jeno was true; that there was a reason why Jeno’s roster was seemingly never ending. You could do that. Though, if anyone were to walk in right now, you didn’t think the compromising position would help in any way when you were quite literally entangled with each other.

Likewise, It didn’t really help that the wretched gremlin burrowing in the debased parts of your brain wanted Jeno Lee so much that you damn near salivated when the man bared more of his neck as a silent ‘go ahead’ for you to ravage the smooth skin with reds, blues and purples with your teeth. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to Jeno that it honestly made you stupid enough to have a taste once the chance presented itself, surprisingly, without wishing an aneurysm upon yourself. 

But you weren’t going to give in that easily. You could just raise that having first hand experience with whatever Jeno had to offer was all for the sake of research and to prove your point.

That’s all that it was. That’s all that it will be; a case study for you. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jeno squeaked out his confusion when you ended up having his cheeks squished between your fingers and thumb right when he tried going in for another kiss, causing his lips to pucker out even more.

“What makes you think I’ll let you fuck me?” 

You dug your fingers into his skin harder as a warning when he tested his luck again.

It’s almost comical watching Jeno stiffen in your hold, making a show of gathering enough distance for him to look right into your eyes.

Then Jeno smiled something placid, yet the glimmer in his eyes told you otherwise. You felt so seen that you wanted to curl into yourself so he wouldn’t have to pick you apart with his steely gaze alone. In that moment, you were prey at the mercy of an apex predator just waiting to strike.

“Is that a challenge?” Jeno asked, even-tempered, irritatingly enough.

“And what if it is?” your fingers tangled themselves in the smooth dark blue strands and tugged gently. “Scared that you’ll lose?”

Jeno’s smile widened.

If there was one thing to take away from all of this, it was to never test the limits of a Taurus man’s patience.

Or else you’d end up in a position where your strength—or lack thereof—would be tested; or else you’d end up restless in between Jeno’s spread legs, one of his arms slung down the length of your torso as a seat belt and anchoring you down to his chest while three of his nimble fingers pistoned in and out of your sopping cunt. It was a fight with an obvious outcome of you losing by a landslide with his death grip around you, but you couldn’t help but squirm when he was so good at making you feel delirious just from his fingers making a mess of where you ached the most.

Fingers that were longer and thicker, reaching deeper than yours ever could. With Jeno, it took him no time at all to have you crying out from his digits nudging that sensitive spot within your silken walls, and the same fingers decidedly pulled out without any warning with an impossibly wet sound just for Jeno to switch his attention towards your clit, fingers flicking sideways in quick succession. This urged an immediate reaction, you letting out a shuddering cry as one of your hands shot out to lock tightly around his wrist.

Your head spun at Jeno’s gentle hushing as you twitched in his embrace. Tender words easily slipping past his full lips in conjunction with his almost rough treatment had your body wounding tighter and tighter as the divide between pleasure and pain gradually flattened to gossamer thin with each pass of Jeno’s fingers across your clit. 

He played you like a fiddle, like he knew exactly what to do in drawing out a pleasure filled song from within you until the barrier ripped, sobbing wetly into the air as you and your resolve shattered into pieces with Jeno’s constricting hold around your quivering form kept you from breaking completely.

When you came to, Jeno’s voice was the first thing you latched onto, bringing you back to full lucidity; gentle as he talked you through what was probably the most intense, toe-curling orgasm from being finger-banged on the couch, of all places.

Jeno breathed out a mixed noise of surprise and amazement. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

And it was when you felt the familiar warm and wet trickle from your pussy down to your ass did you finally let the humiliation set it: you’ve let Jeno finger you on the couch, soaking his shorts and the couch as evidence.

You wanted to die.

“Yeah, well, It’s not like I tell everybody I can,” you panted, hissing when Jeno’s hand curiously trailed down to assess the mess, middle and ring finger slipping between your vulva then dipping shallowly into you and rewarding himself with a whine. Uncomfortable as it was to move your neck at this angle, you wouldn’t miss the chance to glare at him. “like—‘hi! I’m this and that, and I can squirt!—do you know how deranged that sounds?”

“I dunno, I know I‘d be impressed. Intrigued. Maybe even ask for a demo—”

“Jeno.”

“Kidding! I’m kidding,” Jeno snickered as he retracted his fingers, only to stick them into his mouth with a pleased hum, like it was the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his life. “What?” He asked, muffled from suckling on his fingers still, when he caught you gawking at him, completely mortified by the shameless sweep of his tongue around his digits.

You wanted to cry. “You’re a fucking freak.”

“Oh princess, this is nothing,” Jeno finally freed is mouth of the visual torture, a broad grin stretching spit-slick lips when he, again, took in your visceral reaction towards being called princess. He’s so annoying. You verbalized the thought and the fucker just laughed. “Call me a freak again when I ask you to soak my face,” he said, voice sweet, wincing slightly when he held your cheeks, with damp fingers and all. Freak. “Or would you like it better if I beg instead? I’m flexible. I’ll do anything you want.”

Never mind, that was much much worse. Holy fuck. The visual in your head did nothing but spur you on even further no matter the aftermath of a thigh shaking release taking its effects now.

“Stop talking,” you groaned. “please, just shut up.”

“Okay.” Jeno giggled. Giggled, like he wasn’t an insane person delighting himself to your bodily fluids just a few seconds ago. Then to add insult to injury, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “Think you can go another round?” 

So he made you cum once—squirt, for that matter, but that’s, like, whatever when you were capable of doing that on your own. You had plenty of time figuring out what you liked best in this realm of preferences and for all you knew, Mark was simply fucking with you—just like the other girls probably were—as some sick elaborate joke, and Jeno was simply overcompensating for the sake of his ego with their help.

“Just… give me a few. I’m starting to go deaf.” Well, not really. It felt more like there was cotton stuffed into your ears, your own voice sounding muffled and faraway. Although you weren’t new to the feeling, it wasn’t common either and it was especially new that another person was able to render you into this sluggish version of yourself.

He sucked in a breath. “Was it that good that you’ve gone temporarily deaf?”

Other than that, then came the numbing of your scalp. You’ve read about this once, a product from genuine curiosity after a little moment of freaking the fuck out, thinking you were about to die from cumming too hard to the point of losing circulation up there in your brain. And—no you weren’t dying, though it would be an interesting way to go.

You followed up with this just as the blunt edges of his fingernails lightly scratched at your scalp. “I literally can’t feel that except a slight pressure—and don’t get too cocky. This happens to me when I get myself off too.”

Jeno didn’t get even a second of gloating before you started rambling about the possibilities of why this happens with a basic rundown of the nervous system (rapid increase in heart rate and blood pressure) and completely disregarding the stiff outline of Jeno’s pride pressing snugly into the cleft of your bare ass cheeks.

He felt just as hard as he was when you sucked faces in the kitchen. Warm. Big, that you had no idea if the shakes you were getting now was out of fear for Jeno’s cock potentially rearranging your guts to the point of no return, or out of anticipation from that possibly happening. Though what was more shocking was Jeno maintaining some sort of chivalrous streak, staying where he was and putting your pleasure first before his own when he could pretty much turn the tides and have his way with you.

But like a dog being told to stay for a promised treat, Jeno doesn’t do anything, besides soothing you with absentminded caresses here and there while he listened.

At least that’s how you thought this slip in judgment was going to end right until Jeno picked you up in one fell swoop, abruptly—and rudely—cutting you off from the build up towards a detailed spiel of a hypothesis to instead let out an undignified yelp of surprise. He hauled you up without any visible struggle and it was doing horrible horrible things to your psyche.

“Seriously, Jeno,” you exclaimed, grunting when he wrangled you onto your knees, your chest pressed down onto the coffee table as if you were nothing but a doll he gets to twist and bend for his own entertainment. “Were you even listening?”

“Uh huh—something about the temporary effects of an orgasm to the nervous system,” he trailed off at the same time his fingers grazed your skin while rucking up your pullover, just high enough that you shivered against the cool glass surface. “I’ll be honest with you, Human Biology wasn’t exactly interesting to me, but the little science session was cute.”

The glass was doing wonders in cooling down your cheek.

This was the second time he has called you cute. So casually too that you started to think that maybe Jeno had a thing for embarrassing you, see you squirm, whine, make a fool out of yourself—overall, make your life more difficult than it already was.

“Dick,” you quipped, all too weak to actually mean it and Jeno seemed to get the memo, offering a short laugh. “do I have to fit a certain criteria to do this in your bedroom?” you followed, mustering up some strength to glare at him over your shoulder, only to falter when you found Jeno was rather preoccupied with something else.

It’s no secret that Jeno was simply born with a resting face so sweet and unassuming that there was this perceived notion of him not having a mean bone inside that clean-cut body of his. That Jeno wasn’t capable of dishing out noteworthy comebacks aimed at the ego. 

Sure, he could be unaware at times (as per his loud sex problem), but you couldn’t deny the simple truth that Jeno could be nice—is nice. So nice. Sweet even, that the expression crossing his face was just as honeyed and becoming more so the longer he stayed kneeling there, raking his eyes over your half-naked form bent to compliance. It wasn’t the blatant leering that got to you though, but more of how Jeno looked doing it. Who knew the mole smack dab in the middle of your back could be adored this much?

There’s a faint smile tugging on his lips. Miniscule, barely there—still a smile, nonetheless, as he traced the length of your back with his eyes, his large hands essentially doing the same: mapping the entirety of your torso for his own indulgence until he got his fill; warm palms gluing to the soft dips of your waist, all the while his face twisted where it gave the impression he was seeing what was front of him for the very first time.

You looked away, face hotter than it was before.

Whatever that was seemed too private of a moment to witness. It felt intimate—the way his eyes drank in your body—too intimate for a ‘one and done’ thing that you seriously couldn’t wait to get fucked and put an end to this hands-on case study of Jeno’s whore-ish tendencies.

“So no bedroom, then,” you said, hoping it would snap Jeno out of it.

“Sorry, princess.” And, to be fair, Jeno did sound apologetic for a man that was about to get his dick wet for the umpteenth time. You gave him points for trying, then docked off some because princess. Really? “I don’t think I can make the trip to my bedroom. Need to fuck you now or else my dick will fall off.”

You closed your eyes, dropping your chin forward far enough that your forehead met the glass surface with a dull thunk.

So much for thinking he was sweet during a moment. It’s like the more he opened his mouth, the more he inched away from the polite friend-of-a-friend gym-bro who probably helped grandmas cross the street.

“Ugh—fuck you.”

“Mm, yeah.” You stopped counting the last time you had fallen into bed with someone else, and you were starting to think that it has probably been a while; if the brush of spandex against your skin from Jeno fumbling behind to drag his shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free has you completely losing it. Jesus, this was embarrassing. “You’re about to.”

You scoffed, “corny.”

Jeno didn’t deign the cattiness with an answer and instead let his growing impatience speak for itself, kneeing your thighs further apart and shuffling closer until your sharp intake of breath pierced through the once still air when the sticky head of his cock prodded at your hole.

“Any time now.”

Trying to sound unaffected was truly a Sisyphean task. You couldn’t help it, really. Being snarky came natural to you, though if Jeno could tell you were just talking your shit to cover up your impatience, he did nothing about it and went about with teasing you, dragging his length back and forth against your slit.

“I’m literally becoming dryer the longer you keep this up.”

That got a reaction out of him this time, letting out an incredulous laugh, “there’s no way of shutting you up, is there?”

“I don’t know, you can try hard—” whatever else that was supposed to follow immediately died at the tip of your tongue, gasping at the sudden intrusion.

“Oh! Well that’s one way.”

Another version of Jeno in your head just died of spontaneous combustion. You could literally hear him smile. Smiley bastard.

It was intense for sure. As intense as it could be after a stupidly long dry spell that you genuinely felt as though you were reborn a fucking virgin and made the mistake of picking the very guy with a third leg for a dick to pop your cherry. If the head of his cock breaching your pussy had you this frenzied, who knew what the actual thing could do to your actively deteriorating sanity? And—well, you were about to find out, weren’t you?

The reality of it all hit you like a freight train, the groan Jeno breathed out sounded so loud even over the mechanical drone of the air conditioner when he pushed deeper into you.

“Jen—oh my God—wait—” You reached behind to grab onto Jeno’s ass cheek at breakneck speed. A grave mistake, really, because in what you would hope could have stopped Jeno from basically splitting you into two, you unintentionally helped him plug you up. Your nails dug into his flesh as a result.

“Careful with the claws,” he hissed. “They actually hurt.”

“Yeah?” He yelped when you squeezed his ass tighter, his own hand holding onto yours to stop you from doing actual damage. “Try getting impaled by a dick, dickhead.”

Jeno went rigid. “You’ve had sex before, right?”

“Yes?” You looked at him like he was stupid over your shoulder and—all gods above. He already looked fucked out. Cheeks pink, skin shining with sweat (when did he take his shirt off?) and eyes darker from how blown out his pupils were—you know, maybe you weren’t too far off from the thought. “But unlike you, I don’t fuck the next thing that breathes my way.”

“Wow,” Jeno huffed. “Clearly I’m doing something wrong if you’re still running your mouth.”

You had a long history of letting your mouth run before your brain could even decipher if what you had to say would be ideal for the situation. To get out of it, though, was a completely different story and with how things are unfolding, yeah, maybe you bit off more than you could chew.

“No, no—shh, it’s okay. You're okay,” Jeno soothed just as you squirmed, trying to relax. “You're doing so good for me. Just breathe, yeah? Jus’ a little more—oh, fuck.” The guttural groan coincided with the squeak you let out once Jeno shoved himself balls deep into you with a faint slap of skin, clenching around him.

Out of all the men you’ve been with in the past, it took you the longest to adjust around Jeno’s girth. Not only because you simply did not have the time to fuck around, but he really was huge in the sense that he was somehow hitting places that you didn’t even know were there. He truly was the biggest you’ve taken in a while and it was a relief that you had the day off tomorrow and the day after; plenty of time to recover. The thought of having to explain getting railed over your coffee table to the point you were walking funny was mortifying enough as it is.

“This is so much better than hearing you bitch and moan, seriously. Sometimes I start thinking you just want me to hate you.” Jeno didn’t look like he was capable of hating anything if he tried, though with the way his hips drilled mercilessly into you, maybe a tiny part of him could. If pushed right. “And you complain so damn much about the noise when you’re no better. Can you hear how fuckin’ loud you are now?”

You didn’t even realize Jeno was still holding onto the hand that seemed to permanently glue itself onto his barely-there ass cheek until he took your joined hands—fingers laced and all—to migrate beside your head. Right in front of your face and, somehow, it felt like an insult.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you, Jeno Lee,” you moaned and squeezed his hand at a particularly hard thrust jostling you forward. “Fuck you and your useless big dick.”

Jeno snickered. You still called him big, so he’ll take that as a win. “My dick is one of those things and it’s not useless.”

Jeno didn’t really mind how loud you actually were. In fact, he liked it. A lot. Liked hearing how good he was making you feel with each drag of his cock within your warm and slick insides. Liked knowing that he was the reason why you were so lost in your own song of pleasure as you fucked back onto him with all you’ve got when he stopped all his movements to see what you would do and goodness, were you a sight for sore eyes. And Jeno was glad to witness all of this.

You were truly a fantasy come to life. Something he’d never would expect to touch, to mold and to feel in his own hands.

Watching you take what you wanted with no complaints was not an expected outcome—hell, having sex with you wasn’t what Jeno was hoping to get from tonight at all. Talking would have been just fine, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Of course not. Not when you were putting up a show, fueled by your own greed for pleasure, for him and him alone and he could tell all that pent-up stress was starting to seep out the more the back of your thighs met his.

Jeno was a patient man for sure. He was known for it at work. When it came to his diligent daily visits to the gym just two blocks away. When it came to living life in general; yet somehow, you were part of the minute collective that was able to test that until there was nothing left of it and as much as Jeno loved seeing you like this; desperate enough for cock that doing all the work was no problem, he quickly grew bored being a spectator.

There was also you threatening the safety of his skull if he didn’t get a move on to fuck you harder. Jeno only let out an amused snort at this, thinking it was cute and leaned forward so you were chest to back.

“I hoped for a second you’d be begging,” he mumbled into your nape. “you’re something else, aren’t you?”

“Fuck me, or I’ll make sure you’ll never get to fuck anyone else ever again.”

Well.

You did make a compelling argument, and just like how this all went, Jeno followed and delivered.

It was made very clear to you that his muscles weren’t just for show because unlike you, he possessed an insane amount of core strength that it barely dented his stamina when he lifted you up a couple of inches above the coffee table. Your joined hands came in clutch for balance while his free hand acted like a necklace loosely wrapped around your throat so Jeno could kiss you as his hips regained momentum.

Kissing gradually became less of a thing and more of just you both breathing into each other’s mouths, completely taken over by the sheer pleasure of it all. Normally, you’d avoid his eyes if you could, but you were so far gone that you didn’t mind staring into the endless pits of Jeno’s hooded stare. His thrusts slowed down, yet they were more deliberate than ever that it took all of your leftover energy to not say anything stupid like how this change in angle and pace had Jeno plunging in so deep that you could almost feel him in your throat.

“‘m close,” he rasped, hand on your neck tightening a smidge as his movements steadily increased in speed. “How about another one from you, huh? On my cock this time?”

You could only sound a shaky hum and that was enough of an answer for him.

Heated and damp skin met the glass surface once more and Jeno’s cock snugly fit inside of you again with little to no resistance. It was almost the same as how you started out. The only difference was your navel pressing firmly against the table by your still joined hands pushing down onto your back.

Time wasn’t wasted at all and that change alone fully intensified the sensation of Jeno’s girth drilling into you like he was trying so hard to carve a space that he could only fill, even more so when you wriggled and squared your hips to take him in better. It made so much of a difference that your eyes rolled back into your skull as mindless pleasured noises spilled past your lips, your grip around his fingers growing tighter that it hurt your own.

The second wave of your orgasm encroached at a dangerously fast pace from the oversensitivity earlier and the consistency of Jeno’s perfectly timed jackhammering thrusts hitting the tender spot within you, forcing out tinny ah ah ahs out of you as you clenched around him from how mind-numbingly amazing this was, being underneath Jeno’s weight.

It’s been too fucking long that the delirious part of your brain, completely compromised by the rush of dopamine and oxytocin from cumming for the second time entertained the idea of keeping Jeno buried in you long enough until your insides molded around each ridge and vein of Jeno’s cock for the perfect fit. You’ve never felt this full in your life. Even the frantic pistoning of Jeno’s hips aided by the wet gush of slick didn’t shatter the illusion. The feeling of cotton stuffed into your ears came back tenfold.

“Close,” Jeno rasped. “Where—where?”

“Pull out,” you said, all too winded to add that you were on the pill, but you didn’t want to take your chances. Apparently the tension was that bad that none of you had the forethought of using a condom. Your minds were so clouded that critical thinking was impossible, but what’s done was done.

Jeno pulled out with a slick sound, followed by a shaky moan that grew louder and louder with each stroke of his cock, leaving you to whine from the loss (wow, you were so out of it). Warm cum splattered onto the sweat-damp skin of your back and for once, you didn’t have the heart or energy to complain about the sticky mess

Click.

Your eyes shot open. “Did you just take a photo of me?”

“Yeah,” Jeno said. “You look good like this. Pretty. Wanted to have something to jerk off too.”

He could have just stopped at pretty. “You’re gross. You aren’t going to show that to anybody else, are you?” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t like sharing and I actually value my life.”

You could only groan in response, sagging more against the now moist surface of the glass as if you were trying to merge yourself with it, feeling the after effects of Jeno trying to fuck the life out of you.

“I think I’m going to die.”

Jeno responded in kind with a sweet laugh, letting go of your hand. It didn’t even register that you still had your fingers intertwined up until he let go, and tempted as you were to lift yourself up and see what kind of face he was making now that he left his mark on you, you were genuinely too exhausted to do that.

“That good, huh?” His hands returned to your hips, squeezing them gently. “I told you so.”

With the last bit of your strength, you kicked at his thigh.

“Okay, let’s get you up.” He swiped his discarded shirt up from the floor to wipe away the cum before lifting you up by the armpits so you’re on your knees, settling your weight onto your calves as he watched your pullover delicately fall into place and cover up most of your skin. Your own name on his tongue sounded so far away to you. “—hey. You still with me?”

There’s a hum as a response and that’s it. Not only did he end up fucking all the stress and tension out of you, there goes half of your life, too. Gravity took over and you fell right into his chest with your head cushioned by his bare shoulder, eyes glazed over.

“How does a bath sound?”

You nodded, letting your eyes slip closed as Jeno adjusted your slumped form to carry you.

Jeno almost jumped out of his skin when your phone rang.

“Hello?” Jeno said quietly after scrambling for it on your side of his bed, looking over his shoulder to make sure he hadn’t woken you up. He didn’t think you had granted him the perk to simply barge into your room just yet, so he had you clothed in one of his sleep shirts and a pair of new boxer shorts as you dozed away.

“Jeno? Why do you have her phone? Did you kill her before she killed you?”

“No.” That made him worry. How often did you tell anyone who’d happily lend an ear that you’d murder him in cold blood? Whatever, hopefully after tonight, things will smoothen out. “She’s asleep right now. She won’t be heading back over there tonight.” Or ever, he thought.

“Oh?” Jaemin sounded excited for a second, then turned suspicious. “Why? Did she forgive you yet?”

Jeno let the question marinate for a moment, weighing the benefits of letting one of the nosiest people he knew in on his business. A loud snort followed by some mumbling startled him and Jeno craned his neck to find you now facing his side of the bed, still asleep with your mouth parted in a darling little ‘o’. There’s drool at the corner of your mouth. You’ve never looked cuter.

“Define… forgive.”

For once, Jaemin, surprisingly, was rather quick on the uptake “Oho? You two fucked it out, didn’t you?” When Jeno didn’t answer right away, Jaemin gasped. “Jeno, you dog!”

His cackling caused Jeno’s cheeks to flush an impossible red. “Don’t make it weird!”

“You made it weird the second you decide to sleep with her. Besides, we’re all adults here! I promise I won’t tell my third unofficial roommate“—Jeno wished he could reach through the phone right now and choke the life out of him—“that you told me. Tell me everything. Down to the nastiest detail—Hyuck! Oh my God, you’re home just in time. Guess what—“

“I’m coming by and getting the rest of her stuff in a bit.” The whining fell deaf onto Jeno’s ears. “Goodbye, Jaemin.”

He hung up, gently sliding your phone underneath the pillow you’re using. Actually, maybe you'd let him in your good graces if he went to fetch your charger.

Just when he thought peace and quiet had finally been attained, his own phone started buzzing from an onslaught of messages.

Hyuck: U GUYS FUCKED????? Hyuck: WITHOUT ME??? Hyuck: NO FAIR 😭😭😭😭

Jaemin: OR ME??? Jaemin: spare coochie plz 🥺🤲🏼

Hyuck: was there a tape at least 😔

Jaemin: 👀

Jeno: I hope she kills you both when I show her these.

Jeno set his phone to ‘Do Not Disturb’ and tossed it carelessly onto his nightstand.

This was not your room.

With each toss and turn, it still smelt like man, which wasn’t completely awful. It’s a rather pleasant scent; fresh, not too overwhelming on the citrus notes and something woodsy and floral binding everything together. A little too summery when it was currently in the middle of autumn, but you supposed you were in no position to judge when you’ve been using the same perfume since high school.

All in all, it was still nice. If not a little off-putting, not waking up entangled in your linen sheets which was starkly different from how your usual mornings went, yet the exhaustion was what kept you from making a huge fuss. At least Jeno's room didn't harbor the aesthetics of anything from the r/malelivingspace subreddit. Jeno's room was rather nice. Clean. Neat. Evident that a man lived here.

Apart from the abrupt change, there was also the bone-deep soreness serving as a heavy reminder of the aftermath of your decision to sleep with the very same person who took it from you.

And how ironic that he was also the reason why you slept so well last night too.

What a way to end your so-called case study with you as the punchline, really and—fine, maybe Jeno did have the room to boast his admittedly exceptional stroke game. Maybe Jeno knew how to make people cum and it was a fluke that he made you, too. Twice. Maybe Jeno earned his merit of being an expert in the field of sex then.

Your lips wobbled, frowning at Jeno’s ceiling.

This was literally the worst discovery of your life. Being a test subject yourself to see if Jeno’s reputation had preceded him didn’t make it any less horrifying. How could you return to normalcy after this?

You buried your face into one of Jeno’s many pillows and screamed.

Luckily, he hadn’t caught wind of your morning breakdown.

After freshening up in the bathroom, you quietly made your way towards the spacious kitchen, assuming it’s where Jeno was, albeit slowly as each step you took made the ache in between your thighs more pronounced. He had his back to you, bare of anything besides the tight boxer briefs and the frilly pink apron shielding his torso from the splattering oil cinched around his waist.

Jeno Lee painted the very picture of temptation in this current moment. Jacked all to hell, complementing his god-like proportions that showed off his slutty waist women alike would die to have and a striking face that could start wars. But out of everything, your gaze lingered on his barely-there ass wondering if your nails did leave any stinging marks that Jeno would feel for days.

“Oh, hey. You’re up—were you staring at my ass?”

From his behind, you immediately stuck your eyes onto something else less suspicious—like the geometric light fixture just above his head you once hoped would knock him out one day.

“No I wasn’t,” you said, keeping your voice even. “Can’t stare at anything that isn’t even there.”

“Hey!” Jeno whined. “I do have an ass!”

“And I have a dick,” you shot right back and made your way towards where the shitty coffee machine was. Just a few paces away from where Jeno stood. “See how easy it is to lie?”

He sighed. “How come you have an answer for everything?”

You cracked your first smile of the morning. Smug, if anything, but a smile nonetheless. “You just make it so easy.”

“Damn, so even the sex wasn’t enough,” Jeno muttered as he flipped a pancake with an effortless flick of the wrist. “How many rounds will it take for you to forgive me?”

“Zero.” If looks could kill, Jeno would have burst into flames by now. “Is sex all you think about?”

“I can think of other things…” he trailed off, giving you a quick glance with a sweet moue on his lips. “most of my thoughts are of you, so…” Jeno turned to you fully, his eyes gaining a hopeful shine.

That shocked a short laugh out of you in spite of yourself, shaking your head as you marched for the cupboard. “Nice try, big guy—and the sex?” You shot him a quick glance over your shoulder. “You can forget about it.”

“Okay.”

You looked at him again. Jeno was now frying eggs with his face devoid of everything but concentration.

“I still hate you,” you added, loudly.

The sunny side-up eggs slipped cleanly onto a large plate. “Mhm.”

“It was a one time thing.” Somehow his lack of a reaction was slowly getting to you. “It’s not happening again. Ever. I’m not having sex with you again. Ever.”

“Yeah, I got you the first time.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

“Perfect.” You harrumped, making a quick grab for your favorite mug before coming face-to-face with your stupid ass coffee machine.

This was not your stupid ass coffee machine.

What sat in place of the old piece of junk Granny had given you as a housewarming gift (after expressing her concern for your possible caffeine addiction) was a newer model you were pretty sure most, if not all, lifestyle influencers had displayed in their meticulously curated coffee corner. This was built mostly for convenience and to fit into the current trend of aesthetics, no wonder you couldn’t get it to work last night. Muscle memory had you pressing the wrong button.

Slowly, you pried your trembling eyes from the brand-spanking-new replacement to watch your roommate in his element, completely unaware of you currently going through the greatest shock of your life, and back.

You looked closer. There was a Post-It stuck onto the side.

I’m sorry (.◜ᯅ◝) — your asshole roommate.

Jeno bought you a new coffee machine.

“Hey Jen?” you called softly after a full minute of inner deliberation.

Jeno hummed his acknowledgement. He even fried the bacon just how you liked it. There’s no way you couldn’t forgive him now. You were mean, sure, but you weren’t evil. Why did he have to be so nice?

“Can you show me how the coffee machine works?” Then, just as quietly, you added: “please?”

He turned to look at you with the most brilliant smile as he killed the fire.

“Yeah. Of course.”

Mark (ER): so did you two talk yet Mark (ER): ..hellooooo Mark (ER): did you kill him 😟

You: no? tf

Mark (ER): so u guys r good now or

You: 👍🏼👍🏼

Mark (ER): omg TWO thumbs ups 😀 Mark (ER): are u bffs now ??? Mark (ER): i was here first btw

You: go bother ur gf omg??????

a/n: *taps mic* ...hello is this thing on? First things first, thank you so much for reading until the end! Originally, this was supposed to come out as a full one-shot, but life has been all sorts of crazy that I simply haven't had enough time to work on this fic as much as I would have liked to. And upon realized it has been so fucking long since I've posted the teaser, I decided to just split it into two parts to get something out, so I truly apologize for the very long wait! I do hope you enjoyed the read and please please let me know your thoughts on it <3

bonus of me going thru it in our chat lovingly named 'en-ct':

TAGLIST: @jaylaxies @hoondrop @justalildumpling @dammit-jjk @learnthisfeeling @90s-belladonna @rjreins @pinknjm @kshynj @dorkyji @notevenheretbh1 @everytimeicrymytearsdonteverdry @iscocohere @seulkikiii @wintahh @peachesmilk @rxnexxi @rum-gone-why @bluedbliss @tiramisubox @jinxxdreamz @minkyuncutie @txnml @yawnzshit @suhwife @carelessshootanonymous @sanctify-mp3 @haechansbbg @dreamiestay @ryuvrsie @derywinkle @byungbyungbaek @surrealxox

[motorsportbarbie13]

Whispers & Guesses

In which Max lets the news of his secret relationship with you slip out of jealousy.

Warnings: nothing Pairing: Max Verstappen x Singer!Reader Word count: 1.3k words

Shoutout to @shelbyteller for sliding into my DMs with this idea. Inspired by the song ‘Guess’ by Charli xcx and Billie Eilish. This was SO FUN to write omg 🤭 and happy Christmas to all those who celebrate!!

Master List

You were used to the whispers that followed you. The questions that weren't meant to reach your ears, meant to stir up gossip were just part of your life. You had gotten used to people talking about you years ago. You had to or else all of the gossip and rumors would eat you alive.

Nearly ten years into your singing career, with almost 15 Grammy's to your name, the whispers about your weight, your outfits, your hair? They all just rolled off your back. None of it affected you anymore.

So when you walked into the paddock on Sunday morning at Silverstone as one of the celebrity guests, the whispers that followed you didn't even make you to miss a step. It seemed as if people were confused at your presence here, especially since you were in the middle of the European leg of your aptly titled 'Whispers & Guesses' tour.

To the outside world, you were in the paddock as Red Bull's guest just like any other celebrity but those closest to you knew better. You weren't just there to watch a Formula 1 race, you were there to watch your boyfriend race for the first time since you'd started dating him earlier in the year.

You hadn't meant to fall in love with Max Verstappen and you certainly hadn't meant to fall in love with him so quickly but sometimes things don't work out the way you plan for them to. It had all started right after the New Year when Max had treated his sister and mom to VIP box tickets to your concert in Amsterdam.

Your assistant had coordinated a quick meet and greet with the Dutch driver and his family before the concert and you had been stopped in your tracks when you first laid eyes on the Dutch driver. You'd never even heard Max's name before, didn't know how legendary he was in the racing world. You no idea he was a 3 time world Champion and you certainly had never even watched a F1 race but the moment he looked at you with those icy blue eyes, mouth hitching up in that signature lopsided grin, you had been an absolute goner for him.

Max, on the other hand, knew exactly who you were and if he had been pressed, he would have been forced to admit that the meet and greet he had pushed for had been more for his benefit than his niece's. You'd secretly topped his Spotify Wrapped list for the last three years running, although if anyone saw that he'd blame the fact that he shared an account with Victoria and she was a huge fan.

What started out as simple infatuation turned into clandestine meetings carefully coordinated by your entire team as both you and Max wanted to keep the budding romance as quiet as possible for as long as you could. Secret flights for you into Nice to sneak into Monaco on weeks Max wasn't racing were thrilling and when that wouldn't work, Max would charter his plane to find you wherever you were in the world. It was difficult and honestly, not an ideal way to start a relationship but the chemistry between you and Max was undeniable. You both had decided early on that whatever was happening between you two was worth exploring and worth the extra work that it took to spend the precious free time you both had.

You had wanted to see a race for months now but it had posed quite the security headache since access to the paddock was kind of played fast and loose sometimes. The head of security at Silverstone had taken a particular interest in making sure that things were secure for you and after several meetings with your team and theirs that lasted multiple hours, it had finally been enough for your head of security to agree to let you attend.

It had been a complete surprise when you turned up at Silverstone Sunday morning, no one but Red Bull's PR team had known you were even considering coming to the race. As you walked through the paddock with your best friend Alice and PR manager Ginny, the whispers kicked up and only intensified when you 'accidentally' ran into Max where he was stood with Lando and Charles in front of the Red Bull garages.

"Max, it's so good to see you again." You say, pretending that you two don't know each other beyond that time you had met at your concert earlier in the year. When Max had made the request to Red Bull's PR team, he said that you had mentioned at the meet and greet all those months ago that you wanted to attend a race and your schedule had finally lined up.

"I'm so glad your schedule finally opened up to come see me at work." He says, enjoying the role you're both playing in front of everyone else, knowing that you're going to be in his bed later that night.

Introductions are made with you and Alice spending quite a bit of time chatting with the drivers. Lando flirts shamelessly with you, not knowing that your heart already belongs to his friend standing next to him instead. Max thinks it's cute, how Lando thinks he has a chance.

"Ok, ladies, we've got to get over to the hospitality suite before the race." Ginny says eventually.

You give all three drivers quick hugs and wish them good luck, Max's arms holding you just a beat longer than Charles and Lando. "Come back to me safe and sound, okay?" You whisper, mind drifting to that awful crash Max had gotten into with Lewis a few years ago. You had happened upon footage of the crash late one night when you were lonely in a hotel room and Max had been half way across the world at a race. It had scared you half to death and you hadn't been able to watch a race the same since.

Max simply nods, resisting the urge to press a kiss to your forehead. "Always, schatje." He whispers back, voice low so only you can hear him.

All three men watch you saunter away, hips swaying with each step.

Lando catches his fist in his mouth and groans. "God, I love when you can just see the little bits of lace peeking out under their clothes like that."

"And the little sliver of skin? Did you see that tattoo on her lower back just barely making an appearance?" Charles can't take his eyes off your retreating frame either.

Max isn't usually much of a jealous man but the way his friends are talking about you has something burning hotly in his chest. He works to keep his mouth shut as Lando continues to chatter on about you.

"Do you think it's a matching set? The strap I saw was navy...I bet it's a matching set." Lando mutters as he rubs his hand over his jaw.

"It is." Max says simply, hands tucked casually in his pockets. He nearly laughs when both Charles and Lando whip their heads around so fast it's a miracle neither of them snap their necks.

"How...What?" Charles stammers.

"It's a matching set." His tone implies that he knows something that the 2 other drivers don't. "Navy lace with one of those little red bows right in the middle" He points in the middle of his chest as a visual aid.

Lando's jaw is on the floor as he tries to figure out the implications of what Max has just said. Max simply smirks, allowing Charles and Lando to put two and two together on their own.

"I'm not saying your wrong, mate but like, how the fuck do you know?" Lando asks, voice heavy with confusion.

"Well, I picked the set out this morning when she woke up in my bed." Max has to stifle a laugh when Charles' jaw joins Lando's on the floor. "And it's the set I bought for her a few weeks ago when we were in Japan."

With a shrug, Max claps both men on the back and turns away without another word, wandering towards the garage before pulling out his phone to text you about what just happened.

Tag list: @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream @eloriis @daemyratwst @dramaticpiratellamas @mochimommy2002 @bibissparkles @llando4norris @chelseyyouraverageluigi @iamaunknownsecret @maxivstappen @imlonelydontsendhelp @nina-or-anna-or-nora @a1leexxa @littlegrapejuice @sunflowervol18 @freyathehuntress @finn-dot-com @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @chirasama

[written-and-readen]

The Odds Are Slim But Never Zero

Dan Heng, Luka, Blade x fem!reader (separate)

Part 2 (Jing Yuan, Sunday, Gallagher), Part 3 (Moze, Phainon, Sampo)

Summary: Someone walks in on you two

Warnings: nsfw (18+), established relationship, penetrative sex (Dan Heng, Blade), fingering (Luka), getting caught

Dan Heng

Dan Heng is usually a soft spoken person, keeping to himself in the Express’ archives. So how come his pace is so relentless that your breath is stolen every time he bottoms out?

Who can blame him though? The walls of your pussy grip him viciously and your legs are wrapped around his waist, only pulling him further in. He’s completely lost in you right now. The only thing that would make this better is getting to see the expression you make once he pushes you over the edge, eyes going slightly hazy and mouth falling open.

And the only thing that could completely ruin this moment is March slamming open the door to the archives. The moment she registers you both naked (and probably the fact Dan Heng is balls deep in you), she closes the door just as fast as she arrived before either of you can think of yelling at her.

Mood shattered, you sit up to come face to face with your now beet red boyfriend. Your hands reach up to hold his face, thumbs running across his flushed cheeks.

"We're locking the door next time," he sighs.

Luka

The minute Luka got out of the ring and into the back room of the fight club, he was on you. It was such an easy match that he had lots of energy left over. Once he saw your pretty face, he knew exactly how to spend it.

With your back pressed against the wall, he's sucking marks into your neck as both hands grope your ass. You can feel him smile whenever a whine of his name leaves your mouth, your fingers threading deeper into his hair.

Through your heated haze, you feel his left hand slip down your pants and past your panties. After rubbing a few circles on your clit that have your legs nearly buckling if it weren’t for his metal arm wrapped around your middle, two fingers push into your pussy.

“Luka-” you brokenly moan as his fingers curl against your walls.

“You doing okay?” His pace slows for a moment when your head falls against his shoulder.

“Mmhmm, keep going please.” Your wish is his command as he adds a third finger to the two pleasuring you. Your brain feels like mush at this point, but it’s abruptly cleared by a loud slam.

“Luka!” Seele barges through the door. It’s clear she was going to say more until she sees Luka hastily remove himself from your pants. A faint red rises to her face before she leaves, grumbling a “never mind” as she quickly closes the door again.

There’s a beat of silence where you’re both still breathing heavily from your previous activity. Despite the awkwardness now hanging in the air, Luka speaks up.

“So, did you want to continue?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck. A laugh leaves you at his efforts to pick up where you left off. You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Let’s head back to my place first.”

Blade

You haven’t been able to form a coherent thought for a while. Blade just keeps driving his cock into your pussy, fast and deep. The mara must be acting up today.

Your fingers grip the long strands of his hair as you hear him occasionally grunt into your ear. Few words are spoken between you. It’s one of those times where you just let him use you, find what solace he can in the warmth of your body sucking him in.

“B-Blade, I’m close…” You warn him. The only thing you receive in response is a particularly sharp thrust into your sweet spot.

All of a sudden, the door to Blade’s room opens to reveal Kafka. Her eyes take in Blade absolutely ruining you, but she remains standing in the doorway. An embarrassed flush rises to your cheeks at having Kafka’s gaze on you. It’s only increased by Blade’s audacity to not slow down at all.

“What do you want?” He glances none too happily at Kafka.

“Silver Wolf asked me to go get her some snacks. Do you want anything while I’m out?”

“No.” He turns his attention back to you. You’re biting your lip, believing that any whines you let out would only exponentiate your shame, but you’re fighting a losing battle, especially when Blade reaches down to thumb at your clit. A long moan escapes you once he pushes you over the edge, continuing to fuck you through your high.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything.” You hear Kafka’s voice and the door faintly close before all your senses are consumed by Blade.

You feel his calloused hand holding your waist down as his cock still moves in and out of you. You smell the sweat from both of you as you breathe heavily. His fingers swipe up some of the cum that leaks out of your folds, bringing them up to your mouth for you to eagerly taste. His red eyes are intently trained on you as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. When his voice reaches your ears, a shiver runs down your spine.

“You can give me another one, right?”

[lilhughesy]

Sunshine Smiles | Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

warnings! slow burn (ish), friends to lovers, mentions of harrassment (please skip this one if this makes you comfortable!), underaged drinking, fighting, brief mention of blood, toxic ex boyfriend. word count: 13.2k

summary: Luke and Y/N have been best friends after sharing a science class together, and always have been just friends... right? They go through the adventures of high school together, dating other people but it never seems to work out because what if the person they have been looking for has been right in front of them this whole time?

a/n: oh boy, this one has been in the works for a while, especially with having 8 final exams this month! but here we go! first Lukey fic! I hope you like It <3

You and Luke met in sophomore year of high school, you had biology together and sat beside one another in the seating arrangement. The two of you would make small talk at the start of every class, the casual “how are you?” or “did you watch last night’s game?” but not anything more than that. It wasn’t until you noticed him struggling with the genetics unit where you asked him if he needed help.

Usually, the two of you would sit quietly and scribble down notes into your booklets throughout class. Luke with one ear bud in while the teacher talked. He was pretty good at keeping up with the material being taught, but with his hockey season picking up — both the school’s team and his club team, he started slowing down.

You noticed how he would space out about 15 minutes into the lesson, often looking towards a spot on the ceiling rather than at the whiteboard. Minutes would pass before he would snap out of his daze temporarily before slipping back into his daydream. You couldn’t blame him though, biology first thing in the morning wasn’t pleasant.

“Do you want to copy my notes?”

His eyes widened at your question before he nodded, “Please, that would be great.”

“Do you have time during lunch? I assume your schedule is pretty busy after school.” You asked him, towards the end of the period, “I’m flexible for basically anything.”

“Yeah, lunch works for me or after school on like Thursdays and Sundays — I don’t have any practices then.”

You scribbled down your phone number on the corner of your page before tearing it and handing it to him, “Sounds good! Just text me.” You said with an easy smile.

The tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink as he took the slip of paper from your hands. He hummed a small response before turning back to focus on the teacher.

Well, realistically, he was flustered that you gave him your number that quickly. Luke had expecting you to give your Instagram or Snapchat, like any other high school student would do. You weren’t extremely popular in your grade, but that doesn’t mean that people didn’t know you. People knew you as the sweet girl, you constantly wore a smile and treated everyone you talked to like a friend. Everyone was comfortable around you, and honestly no one had anything bad to say about you. Other than the girls who were jealous of your easygoing personality that had different guys talking to you. Anything they said behind your back was typically dismissed, no one actually believed what they had to say about you.

Luke first noticed you in the midst of the fall semester of his freshman year. He saw you standing a few lockers down from his, talking to two of your friends. You laughed, your perfect teeth shining through at whatever your friend told you. One of his own friends, greeted you as he walked past you, “Hey Y/N! How have you been?”

“Hi Dylan, I’m good! How are you? How’s your sister liking college?” You asked back to him. The two making small talk before he waved goodbye and approached Luke,

“Hey Hughesy,” Dylan said, leaning on the locker door next to Luke’s, “Ready for geometry?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded, following Dylan as he lead his way to the math wing. Luke looking behind him once to take another look at you before walking to his class. You looked at him when he did, and you gave him a small smile.

You made it look so easy, to know everyone who knew you. You made people feel seen, remembering small details from past conversations with them that others would have easily forgotten by then. Just like how Luke forgot that he had mentioned how he grew up in Toronto and enjoyed watching the Leafs play during a random conversation during ninth grade. You brought it up about two weeks into your shared biology class, asking him “Did you watch the Leafs game last night? It was a great game!” He was shocked, slightly confused, that you knew that he liked the Leafs. It allowed you two to fall into a short conversation before the lesson began that day.

After you started helping Luke out with catching up and understanding the biology lessons, the both of you became friends — outside of just being seat partners. He found himself texting you more frequently outside of school. Conversation came easy and they never felt forced, which he appreciated. They were never awkward or uncomfortable, it was like you two knew each other for years.

You two had shared two more classes in the spring semester of tenth grade, quickly falling back into routine of being study buddies. He claimed it was to help him stay on top of schoolwork because he was so busy with hockey. In reality, he knew it was because he liked being around you and listening to you talk when you explained the topics to him. He swore that you taught significantly better than any of the teachers he had, something about the way you talked about it made it click in his head. Maybe it was because you managed to make a reference towards sports every time he was stumped, allowing him to grasp a better understanding of it.

Before either of you noticed, you became best friends. Considering how you two would spend your lunches in vacant classrooms to study, whether it be you teaching him or just hanging out together. You appreciated your new friend, Luke Hughes, who had actually took his time to get to know you. Of course you loved talking to other students in your year, but you weren’t blind to the fact that they didn’t really pay attention to you. Conversations often swirled around them and their lives, not so much your own. They never really cared to ask you about your break or the other things going on in your life. You didn’t really mind, you liked to keep to yourself.

Until it came to Luke, who got the time to know you for you. He knew that you also watched the Leafs since your mom grew up in Ontario, or how you would visit Canada during winter break each year to visit family, or even your slight obsession with Harry Potter. Luke learned that you didn’t like to wear your hair up often since you claimed to hate the way the end of your ponytails felt against the back of your neck — yet when it came to really focus on your work, your hair would be tied up to avoid strands getting into your line of vision. The conversations that flowed between the two of you were two way streets, not just the one way street that you had grown accustomed to.

As April came around, his hockey season started to trail to an end. Only allowing you two to have more time to hang out after school. The winter months had you two hanging out for an hour or two at either of your homes, typically working away at assignments beside each other. Now with the warmth of spring and less constraints of his busy hockey schedule, you two could do more together. With his home being significantly closer to the school than your own, you two would often walk to his house together once the end-of-day bell would ring.

He would kick around a rock on the sidewalks as the two of you talked. Sometimes it would be about your friends or his, other times it would be about random questions that you two would think about.

“Do you think that chicks in their eggs gain a sense of like consciousness which makes them want to break free of the egg?” You asked him, causing him to pause in his strides, “Like maybe they get super claustrophobic, you know?”

“What kind of question is that?” Luke laughed, before continuing his movements, “It is a good question though… Or it could be just a natural reaction or reflex to break free.”

You shrugged, “That too.”

Ellen loved having you around, she knew that you were a good influence on her youngest son. Her boys were never the academic type, always drawn towards activities like sports or games in general. She never expected for Luke to tell her about him spending lunches catching up on class notes or having a friend over to work on essays. She was surprised, to say the least, she expected him to be like his older brothers. Always hanging out with friends during lunch, complaining about having to do class work, or having friends over to play on the PlayStation and being typical teenage boys.

You were a bundle of joy and sunshine to her. Whenever you saw her, you would ask her about the book she recently read or ask her about what she was cooking in the kitchen. You were genuinely interested in conversations with her, not talking to her just to make a good impression.

“Hi honey!” Ellen’s voice sang out from the living room as you shut the front door behind you and Luke. He kicked off his beat air forces, placing them on the shoe rack,

“Hi mom, Y/N’s here too!” He told her. You following him towards the living room. She looked up from her phone, seeing her son and you standing in the doorway.

You smiled at her when she saw you, “Hi Ellen! How have you been? I’m sorry I came unannounced.”

She chuckled, placing her phone screen down on the coffee table, “You never have to worry about that, you know that I love having you here. Do you guys have any homework?”

Luke shook his head, “No not really, we caught up during lunch.”

“Wow, good for you two!” Ellen beamed, standing up from her seat, “Can I get you two something to eat as an afternoon snack?”

“We were planning on maybe walking over to the ice cream shop in a bit,” Luke explained to her, trailing behind his mom when she made her way into the kitchen.

“Are you sure? I just went to the store and I loaded up on groceries.”

“It’s okay, mom. Thank you though!” Luke said to her, “We’re probably going to head to my room to hang out for a bit.”

Ellen hummed, waving you two off as Luke led you to his room. He tossed his school bag towards his desk before flopping onto his bed. You placed your bag next to his, settling for his chair,

“So,” He propped himself on his elbows to look at you, “What’s up with you and Josh lately?”

You blushed at the mention of the boy’s name. He was on the lacrosse team at school and was in your shared English class with Luke. Josh knew you since middle school and started to talk to you more recently because of your shared lessons. You liked Josh as friend prior to this year, he was always nice to you and gave you his notes on days you were absent. It wasn’t until this year, when he seemed to have his teenage glow up with him getting a lot taller and growing out his blonde hair, where you started noticing him more than just a classmate.

“Nothing really,” You told Luke, who only raised a single brow, “We’ve just been talking.”

“Right,” Luke chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “So it has nothing to do with his long hair now and his defined jawline?”

Your face turned red, “What?! No, why would- If anything it sounds like you have a crush on him!”

“Who said anything about having a crush on Josh?” He teased, knowing he managed to put you into a corner.

“Wha- I just- I didn’t- I meant,” You sputtered out, before covering your face with your hands in embarrassment, “Okay fine! Maybe I have a bit of a crush on him.”

Luke laughed, his neck craning back, “Oh this is too good!”

“Shut up!” You whined, face still hidden away from the boy, “You act like you haven’t been talking Mallory!”

It was his turn to become flustered, “We aren’t talking though?”

“Yes you two are! I see you checking your notifications every five minutes, you waiting for her snap reply.” You giggled as his ears turned more red.

“I do not!”

“Yes you do!”

Luke groaned in defeat, “Can we call a truce on this?”

“Fine, but if you decide to ask her out, you have to tell me.” You told him and he shook his head slightly as a brief laugh fell from his lips,

“Same goes to you then.” He grinned, you rolled your eyes playfully, “Let’s go get that ice cream now.”

Luke had asked Mallory out a few weeks after. She played on the school volleyball team, and she was what you considered popular in your grade. Her and Luke became the new ‘it’ couple when they became official at the end of April. The hockey star and the cute blonde volleyball player. You were so happy for him, being the one who stood in front of him minutes before he asked Mallory to be his girlfriend — you were giving him a pep talk and hyping him up, giving him the confidence he needed in that moment.

They were a cute couple, he would sit next to her at her table during lunch with all of her friends. Somewhat ditching you to be with Mallory. He had fit right in at the table of athletes, mixed of guys and girls. You never blamed him though, his priorities moved around and you knew that Luke spending every lunch with you in a quiet classroom wouldn’t sit well with his new girlfriend.

You liked Mallory, she’d give you small smiles in the hallway and give you brief ‘hello’s’ when she came by Luke’s locker midst conversation between you two. You gave them space, not wanting to wedge yourself into their relationship.

So you remained as the sweet sunshine girl, talking to new people during lunch hour since you would rather socialize than to sit alone in a classroom. People would come by for a few minutes to talk to you before leaving to be with their own friend groups. You were never a fan of the cafeteria, too much noise and the stereotypical cliques of high school being extremely evident in the large room. Different tables for different groups. You much rather walk around the school, stand in an area with a small group of friends before continuing your way.

One person who seemed to consistently keep you company was Josh, the lacrosse player you had grown to have feelings for. He would stay with you for a good while during lunch, often jogging a few steps towards you with a call of your name.

“Y/N!” You spun around to the sound of his voice, you feel a smile grow on your face when he approached you.

“Hi Josh,” You said, giving the boy a wave, “How were your classes?”

“They’re good! Hey, I was wondering if you were busy after school today?” He asked you as the two of you walked as a leisurely pace by the outdoor track.

You glanced at him, trying to hide your brewing excitement, “I don’t think so, why?”

Josh let out a nervous laugh, his hand running through his hair, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my game today, and maybe go get food after?”

The two of you had stopped your walk just moments before, him now looking directly at you. Josh’s cheeks were tinted pink as he waited for you to respond,

“Yeah, I would like that.” You smiled, moving a loose strand of hair out of your face.

He beamed, “Awesome! Oh, and you can wear this too!”

Josh quickly moved off one strap of his backpack to rummage through it, handing you a navy jersey. You took it from him, holding it up in front of you to see your school name on the front along with his number and name on it.

“It might be a bit oversized, but I think you would look good in it! But, I guess you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” He rambled on, sort of laughing at himself whilst being embarrassed at his own behaviour.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm, “I’d love to.”

After that afternoon where you sat on the bleachers watching him play his game and the two of you going to a diner for a meal. He had finally asked you to be his girlfriend after multiple weeks of talking to each other in school and out of, hanging out together, and him walking you to your classes. You were ecstatic when he asked, feverishly nodding your head and excited giggles when you accepted.

You texted Luke later that night about it, he was happy for you. The two of you caught up for a little, given that you rarely spent time together anymore considering how things have changed. Neither of you seemed to want to talk about the shift in dynamic nor did either of you want to jeopardize your own or the other’s relationship.

Josh had stuck to your side since, walking around school with an arm around your shoulders to show off to everyone that you two were together. He brought you to his hangouts with his friends, where he kept you right next to him the entire time. Josh seemed to be more protective of you whenever you two would see Luke. Always pulling you closer or whispering something in your ear to distract you from the curly headed hockey player.

It was a few days before summer break, and for the first time since you started dating Josh, you were left alone. Given that his family had taken him on a trip, starting his summer break early this year. You stood by your locker at the end of the day, rearranging the things in your bag when a familiar person appeared next to you.

“Hey,” Luke said, leaning his back against the next locker, “Where’s Josh?”

You looked over to him, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Mallory had a doctor’s appointment.” Luke responded, now waiting for you to reply.

“Josh left for his family trip yesterday.” You explained to him while zipping your bag, “How have you been Lukey?”

He chuckled, following you towards the exit, “I’ve been good, I’m excited that it’s almost summer.”

“Me too,” You grinned at him, the two of you falling into an easy rhythm, “Any plans this summer? I’m assuming you have hockey camp like always?”

“You know it,” Luke’s eyes softening slightly at you remembering, “And we’re going to the lake house for the whole summer when Quinn flys back on Saturday.”

“That’s so exciting!” You bumping your shoulder to his, “How have you and Mallory been?”

“Good, she’s really great…” Luke paused before letting out a small sigh, “I’m sorry that we haven’t been hanging out and for me kinda ditching you for her.”

You waved your hand off, falling into your typical easy going mood, “Don’t worry about it! I know you have my back even if we don’t talk every day.”

Relief washed over his face, “Okay good, I was worried you were pissed off at me or something.”

“No, never! Besides I’ve been busy with Josh and being around him all the time, so you also have the opportunity to be mad at me.” You told him, “Are you mad at me?”

“At you?” He questioned, “Never.”

The two of you walked in a comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. You reached the street intersection, both pausing momentarily,

“I would invite you over, mom has been asking about you and it’s been so long but you know…” Luke mumbled, “Mal wouldn’t be too happy.”

You gave him an understanding look, “Don’t worry, it’s not just Mallory who wouldn’t be happy about us hanging out.” You chuckled, referring to your protective boyfriend, “If I don’t see you before school ends, I hope you have a great summer, Lukey.”

He gives you a sad smile, “Thanks, Y/N. I hope you have a good summer too.”

You give him another short glance before heading your way back home. You hadn’t realized how much you missed Luke and hanging out with him. A sigh escaped your lips as you adjust the straps on your shoulders.

Luke watched you from his spot on the corner, seeing you slowly walk away to the direction of your home. In the similar head space, he wondered what happened to your friendship. Curious if neither of you were to be in a relationship, if you two would be heading towards his house in routine. He liked Mallory, of course he did. Though he somewhat hated that it was at the cost of your friendship. Luke knew that at the end of the day, you were always there for him — similar to how you acknowledged knowing that he had your back. He missed you nonetheless, he missed your random questions and the comfort of being in your solace.

He resented Josh, how he now had your full attention at all times. Luke would never say it out loud but he didn’t think Josh deserved you. He barely knew the lacrosse athlete but something about the way Josh carried himself, he knew something was off about him. Luke had just yet to put his finger on it.

Luke went home to see Jack already lounging on the couch, barely paying attention to the game on the screen and was much more interested in his phone.

“Hey Lukey,” Jack called out to his brother, Luke only mumbled a minimal response, “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” Luke sighed, grabbing his Gatorade bottle from the sleeve of his backpack and plopping into the empty spot next to the seventeen year old.

Jack’s eyebrows furrowed at Luke’s behaviour, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong with Lukey?” A voice asked, Quinn poking his head from the hall and entering the living room.

Luke’s head snapped up, breaking his focus on his water bottle, at his eldest brother’s voice, “What the hell?” Luke letting out a shocked chuckle, “What are you doing here, Q? I thought you were flying in on Saturday?”

Quinn grinned, pulling up Luke by his arm and hugging him, “Glad to know you missed me too.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Luke replied, embracing Quinn, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got an earlier flight last minute,” He explained to the youngest Hughes, pulling away so the three brothers could sit. Quinn taking the single seater next to the couch, “What’s going on with you?”

Luke shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t lie to both of his brothers, “I don’t even know, it’s just Mallory doesn’t like me hanging out with Y/N.”

“Y/N, that’s the girl who’s been helping you with school?” Quinn asked, making sure he was understanding Luke’s situation properly.

Jack nodded, “Yeah, she’s really cool. I’ve met her a few times. She’d been helping Lukey with school, his grades have never been better.”

“Is she like your tutor?”

“No,” Luke shook his head, shifting further into his seat, “She became one of my best friends. She’s got like photographic memory, so she is really good at helping me with staying on top of everything.”

Quinn smiled, “You’re pretty lucky to have her then.”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Q,” Jack said, catching his attention, “Y/N is cute too. She’s got that whole happy-go-lucky personality, Mom loves her too.”

“Oh really?” Quinn, raising his brows, “What, so you like her, J?”

Jack scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I wouldn’t date one of his friends, relax dude.”

The eldest brother rolled his eyes in amusement, knowing that Y/N being Luke’s friend was probably the only reason stopping Jack from shooting his shot. He turned his attention back to Luke, who was still slumping,

“How’s it like being with Mallory?” He asked, changing the subject slightly, “Mom mentioned her once or twice to me, saying something about wanting to meet her.”

“Yeah, is she coming to the lake with us?” Jack added, shifting his posture to face Luke, “I haven’t even met your girlfriend yet, why’s that?”

“I dunno,” Luke sighed, moving his hand to play with the curls at the back of his head, “She hasn’t told her parents yet about us dating and wants to wait to meet everyone until she tells them.”

“Oh,” Jack’s eyes widened, “She’s one of those girls… Didn’t you say she was pretty popular too?”

Luke shrugged, “Guess so.”

“Mhm, one of those girls,” Jack chuckled, leaning back and using one of his arms as a makeshift cushion for his head, “I wish you good luck, solider.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying, those girls have been trouble every time I’ve got mixed in with them,” Jack reasoned with his hands raised in surrender, “I, personally, would rather go for a girl like Y/N. She’s smart, she’s nice, friendly, sweet, and she’s pretty.”

“Sounds like you have a crush on Lukey’s best friend,” Quinn’s eyes having a glint of his teasing manner that matched his tone, “Is Y/N coming up to the lake house with us?”

“I didn’t ask her,” Luke told his brothers.

Jack pouted, “Why?”

“She’s probably headed to Toronto this summer.”

Quinn sat up, “Toronto?”

“Yeah, duel citizenship or something. Her mom is Canadian.” Luke said, like it was the most obvious answer.

“Even better, no wonder why she’s so nice! She’s Canadian!” Jack exclaimed, “What are you now going to tell me that she likes the Leafs too?”

Judging off the look Luke gave Jack, his eyes widened, “So, she’s perfect is what you’re saying!”

“Jack” Luke groaned, “Shut up dude.”

“How did you fumble that?!” Jack asked exacerbated, shaking his head as he adjusted the hat on his head, “It’s like you don’t listen to my advice when it comes to girls.”

Quinn, seeing Luke’s face, rolled his eyes, “Alright Rowdy, leave him alone.”

“She’s literally just my friend,” Luke told him, “She has boyfriend too, he’s obsessed with her.”

Jack mumbled something amongst the lines of ‘rightfully so’ under his breath. Eventually going back to his phone.

“So it’s just gonna be Caufield and Z this summer?” Quinn questioned, the middle brother nodding, “It’ll be good.”

Summer turned out great for the Hughes family lake house. The boys all enjoyed going out of the boat, wake surfing, swimming, and drinking then coming back to house in the late afternoon to shoot pool. It was their annual boys trip, taking the time to be around their friends and family while also enjoying off season. They would drive to the nearby arena to practice on days with Jimmy coaching them. Often spending the morning in the makeshift gym in their garage to get a workout in.

You on the other hand, decided to take some summer classes to get ahead on course credits — flying through the material. You also enjoyed working at the local coffee shop, gotten to meet new people and becoming friends with your regulars. Besides, it never hurt to have some extra money in your pocket. Josh came back from his month long trip, revolving around visiting his family, sometime towards the end of July. You two would hang out whenever you weren’t working. Spending time in your home, cuddling on the coach or in your bed, watching movies at the neighborhood drive in, and occasionally going up to his friends’ lake house on some weekends.

It was a productive summer overall, you couldn’t really complain. Hours on your resume plus seeing your boyfriend every day. You loved it. The only thing that was keeping getting under your skin was Josh hinting towards the two of you having yet to sleep together. You were freshly sixteen and you didn’t feel ready yet, you felt too young and you didn’t want to make a decision that you might regret.

Although you hid this from him and everyone else, deep down you wanted your first to be with someone you loved. Someone that you genuinely cared deeply about and had that connection with. It had to be with the right person. He told you he loved you, how he’ll never leave you, and that he wanted to marry you. Josh was nice, he was your boyfriend and you cared about him — but did you love him? You weren’t exactly certain about that yet. You didn’t feel the magnetic pull or the connection that you wanted for your first time. It was also too early, you’d only been together for about five months and dating for almost four of those months.

So, you kept brushing it off every time it was brought up: you had work later, you’re too tired, you didn’t feel well, your head hurt, your parents were on the way home, you’re on your period. The excuses kept coming. Even if you didn’t acknowledge it in your head, but the underlying fact was, you were not going to sleep with Josh.

“I have work tomorrow and I want to get a good night sleep.” You told your boyfriend, who was relaxed on the couch with an arm resting behind you, “I start early.”

“But baby it could help you sleep,” He replied, placing a tender kiss on your lips, “Your parents aren’t even home tonight.”

“I know but I’ve been exhausted from work.”

Josh gave you a small understanding smile, his lips forming into a straight line, “Alright babe, it’s okay.”

You kissed him again, your fingers playing with his dirty blonde hair at the nape of his neck, “Sorry baby.”

“I think I should head home then.” He sighed, standing up and stretching his shoulders, “You should get that sleep you’ve been waiting for.”

Your face faltered for a brief second, “Yeah okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Josh only shrugged, “Maybe, might go hang out with the boys.”

He left soon after, leaving you alone in your home. You sighed, heading to your bathroom to shower and start getting ready for bed. The soft scent of strawberries filled the steamy bathroom as you shampooed your hair. The hot water running over your body as you stood under the stream. Your head was hurting, full of anxious thoughts and energy from Josh’s recent behaviour. You gave him the benefit of the doubt that this was just a phase he was going through. That he would eventually drop it and the two of you could continue on without the silent tension that existed between you. You didn’t know how long you stood under the shower head, before deciding to step out. The soft material of your towel patting down your skin before you applied your vanilla body lotion everywhere.

You relaxed in your bed, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire playing on your TV screen as you scrolled through your phone. Unexpectedly, you received a call which you picked up after the first ring,

“Hello?” You asked, still confused from the caller id.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi Lukey,” You said, fully aware that he could likely hear the smile through your voice, “How’s the lake house treating you?”

His voice was low and had a slight tinge to it, “Mallory and I broke up.”

You paused, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

There was some heavy breathing from his end, you knew that this must’ve just happened. You could hear some rustling, assuming that Luke was settling into his bed or the couch by the sounds of it.

“I- uh, I don’t even know.” He sighed, “She just called me and said she found someone new.” His voice breaking towards the end of his sentence before he cleared his throat.

You knew he was either on the verge of tears or was already crying, and your heart broke for the boy, “Oh, Luke…”

“Just wanted to talk to you,” Luke mumbled, “I hope I’m not keeping you or your parents awake by calling you.”

You chuckled lightly, classic Luke always so considerate, “No, not at all. I’m home alone and just watching a movie.”

“No Josh?”

“No, he left an hour or so ago.” You told him, shuffling down to lay on your back with your phone to your ear still.

Luke hummed, “How are you guys doing?”

He could hear you hesitate and how the air hitched in your throat, “G- Good. We’re fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Trying to keep up with the somewhat lie, before deciding that it was only Luke and you could tell him the truth, “Well maybe a bit rocky right now.”

You imagine him having an expression of confusion mixed with some curiosity, “Why’s that?”

“He keeps bringing up the idea of us sleeping together,” You told him, cringing slightly at your own words, “And I keep giving him excuses to not.”

“Sleeping together? Why wouldn’t you? I guess unless your parents don’t like you two sharing a bed?”

You laugh lightly at his innocence in that moment, “No, not like that sleeping together. Like the, having sex, type of sleeping together… Sorry if that’s TMI. And he’s just kinda gets upset everytime I make up an excuse.”

“He’s trying to sleep with you?”

“He’s just been asking about it,” You shuffle deeper into your blankets, “You make it sound bad when you say it like that.”

Luke lets out a brief scoff, a combination of disbelief and a pinch of frustration, “Is it not though? He should’ve just backed off after you told him no.”

“I think it’s just because his friends have been talking about losing their virginities. Can we just talk about something else? Please?”

“Yeah okay,” Luke replied, voice bland, “Just don’t do it because you feel pressured or anything, it’s not worth it.”

You sighed, knowing your best friend was in the right, “Yeah, I know.”

Luke sank further into his own bed, staring out the window as he spoke to you over the phone. He watched how the moonlight danced over the lake and how the stars twinkled in the night sky. He could hear the distant conversations between his brothers downstairs, not paying much attention to the conversation he was missing out on. Luke felt the strange surge of emotion that bubbled in his gut when you mentioned that your boyfriend was constantly asking you about sex. He knew that you were capable of making your own decisions, but it didn’t wave the bad feeling he felt.

School started, the warm September air with its nibble of the Fall breeze in the mornings. Luke had a few classes with you, allowing you to sit with your best friend — without worrying about Josh getting upset over it. Josh was very pleased to hear that Luke would be away all summer. He wasn’t the most keen of you two hanging out, having to ask you to spend less time with Luke and more time with your boyfriend. You promising Josh that you saw Luke as only a classmate, even if that wasn’t necessarily the truth.

You found yourself at a party on a Friday night, mainly because it was Josh who was hosting it. The entire junior and senior year were invited to it. A red solo cup in your hand, cradling it close to your body. Josh stayed right next to you, his hand dipping lower than your waist to squeeze your ass every so often. He kept you no further than an arm lengths away as he talked to his teammates around the pong table. Josh was a couple drinks deep, on occasion his words would slur.

Luke walked into the space with two of his own teammates from the school hockey team. His eyes landed on you, widening at the sight of you wearing a short skirt and a pink tank top. You gave him a small smile as he looked over to you while getting himself a drink.

He looked good. He always did. He wore a flannel over his grey hoodie and a baseball cap over his head of curls. He laughed at whatever his friends said to him, making you wish you were next to Luke at this party rather than Josh.

Josh’s hand toyed with the bottom of your shirt, “Hi baby.” He said to you, his eyes scanning over your figure, “Did I tell you that you look so hot tonight.”

Your cheeks heated up, “Thank you, baby.”

His lips landed on yours, kissing you passionately and pulling your body closer to his front. You kissed him back, placing your hands on the back of his neck. His arms wrapping tightly around your middle as he groaned into the kiss.

“Wanna go somewhere more private?” He whispered into your ear before kissing your jaw, “Don’t know if I want everyone here to watch us make out.”

You giggled, moving your head to give him more access, “Okay.”

Josh pulled away, looking at you. His pupils were dilated and were a bit glassy from the alcohol coursing through his body. His words were slurring together but other than that, he didn’t seem super drunk, “Okay, I’ll go up first and you come a few minutes after?”

You nodded before kissing him quickly, he grinned at you before walking away towards his room. You headed towards the kitchen to get yourself another drink. Weaving through the few bodies to reach the vodka bottle. You poured a bit of the alcohol into your cup before adding juice to it.

“Hey,” You looked to your side to see Luke there.

“Hi Luke,” You said to him, taking a long sip of your drink. Your face cringing slightly at the strong taste of the liqueur that burned the back of your throat.

He moved closer to your side, to hear you over the loud noises, “Where did Josh go?”

You pointed upstairs before giggling, curtesy to being tipsy leaning into your drunken state, “I’m meeting him up there soon.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Three? This is my fourth,” You told him, slurring your words slightly, “Or maybe my fifth. I forgot.”

Luke’s face now wore a small frown, “Are you drunk?”

“Me?!” You exclaimed, your voice louder than you were expecting it to be, “No, I’m not drunk.��

“You’re slurring your words.” He stated, crossing his arms over his chest, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

You huffed, slamming your cup onto the table, “I can do what I want.”

“I didn’t say that,” Luke sighed, “I’m just saying…”

“No.” You interrupted him, putting your finger into his face, “You just want to ruin my fun because Mallory broke up with you.”

You knew that you shouldn’t have said that. The air around you two thickened as you both paused. Your head felt like it was pulsing from the warmth of alcohol in your body. You didn’t even mean to say that, the words coming out of your mouth faster than you could process them. You cursed yourself mentally for saying something like that to Luke, who was only just standing next to you. You saw his face falter at you, an expression of hurt washing over his features for a brief moment before his masked it.

“Alright,” He mumbled, stepping away from you.

“I should go.” You sighed, moving past him. His hand wrapped around your wrist. Your skin tingled at his touch and a shiver ran down your spine. You glanced down at his hand holding you and back up to his face.

His eyes softened when your eyes connected, “Don’t have sex with him while you’re drunk.”

“Luke,”

“Promise me that you won’t.” He said gently, don’t daring to break the eye contact. You stared into his eyes, seeing the silent pleading behind them,

“Okay.”

Luke’s eyes darted over your face before he released your wrist from his hold. He watched as you made your way towards the staircase, seeing you glance over to him one last time before disappearing to the second floor of the house. He looked at his barely touched can, deciding to throw it out. He wasn’t in the mood anymore. Luke rejoined his friends, hoping to take his mind off the fact that his drunk best friend was upstairs in a room with her boyfriend — the boyfriend that kept giving him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey dude, you good?” Dylan asked the boy, giving him a gentle nudge. Luke snapped out of his daze,

“Yeah man, I’m good.” Luke nodded, giving Dylan a tight lipped smile, “Probably gonna head out in a bit, practice in the morning.”

Luke felt conflicted, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave or stay at the party. Part of him didn’t want to stick around, knowing you were upstairs with Josh but the other part of him wanted to stay because you were upstairs with Josh. What if you needed him and he wasn’t there?

He eventually decided on leaving, Jack coming to pick him up, “How was it?”

Luke shrugged, closing the car door and tilting his back against the headrest, “Can we just go home?”

“That bad?” Jack laughed, “I thought you said Y/N was gonna be here?”

“She was.” Luke mumbled while Jack started to drive, “She left with her boyfriend.”

Jack glanced over to his brother, giving him a knowing look. He expected that Luke had feelings for his best friend, it was hard not to like the girl. She was sweet, easygoing, and she was cute. With Luke freshly out of a relationship, Jack expected him to be a lot more down but it seemed as though having Y/N around kept Luke occupied. Jack opted to not say anything more to his younger brother.

Luke kept his distance from you a few days following the party, he wasn’t sure when and why his emotions towards you changed. He avoided your eye contact in class, answering your questions with short and bland sentences, and immediately leaving once the lesson ended. You sighed, closing your notebook as Luke had once again scrambled out of the classroom. You put your things into your bag before slinging a strap over your shoulders.

When you left the room, you spotted Josh leaning against the nearby lockers. You sharply inhaled at the sight of him, mentally groaning of his presence. It’s not that you were upset that he was waiting for you, per se… It just felt like as of recently, the two of you weren’t on the same page anymore. He was insistent on losing his virginity to you, talking about another one of his teammates losing theirs, and how he loved you so much and is wanting to take the next step with you. You on the other hand, would just brush off his words — you didn’t want this. He didn’t seem to understand either, which was the worst part. You often got to take your mind off of your crumbling relationship by hanging out with Luke during classes, but with him ignoring you lately, you didn’t get that either.

“Hi baby,” Josh grinned, immediately slithering an arm around your waist, pulling you close to his chest and attempted to kiss you.

“Josh, I told you not at school.” You scolded him, pushing him away, “You can do that after school, just not here.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes, “Oh come on, everyone already knows we’re together.”

“I don’t care,” You scoffed, already walking towards your next class, “I don’t like PDA and not everyone wants to see us making out in the hallways.”

Josh was right behind you, “Who cares what people think? I think it’s hot as fuck.” He smirked, his hands once again on your hips.

“Josh, please.” You sighed, brushing his hands off of you. He looked at you, almost with a smidge of disgust or maybe disappointment. You avoid his eye, looking anywhere but at him.

“Fine, have a good class.”

You let out a breath of relief as he turned around sharply, disappearing into the crowd of teenagers in the school hallways. You tightened your grip on your backpack strap, and tilting your head against the wall.

“You okay?” Glancing back towards the voice, you see Luke’s friend Dylan standing in front of you with concern over his features. You slowly nod,

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You told him, hoping that he’ll drop it. Dylan was nice, typical hockey player guy, but he had good intentions. Besides, he knew you were Luke’s best friend so nothing he did was with malicious intent.

“Okay…” Dylan said, still somewhat suspicious, “I’m here if you wanna talk though, Lukey too.”

“Thanks,” You replied, giving a tight smile, “How’s your hockey season going?”

He beamed at the mention of his sport, going onto talking your ear off about the most recent game as the two of you walked into your next class. You tried your best to keep up, but it was hard when you were thinking about Josh. You weren’t sure if you still wanted to be with him, you didn’t think relationships were supposed to be like this. Granted, this was your first 'official' relationship. You've had crushes in the past, been in a few talking stages, but at the end of the day — you were too much of a sweetheart and no guy wanted to be the one to break a sweet girl's heart. You and Dylan eventually make it to your biology class, sitting towards the back of the class waiting for the lesson to start. Luke walked in, right before the bell, plopping into the empty seat next to you. He gave Dylan a single nod before glancing at you,

"Hi Luke." You greeted, a warm smile on your face.

"Hey." He replied, rather plainly before shuffling through his bag for his notes. You wondered if something had happened at the party that caused him to act like this, the fact that you also didn't remember much of the party wasn't much help either. Waking up the next day with a raging migraine was a strong indicator of the amount of alcohol you consumed.

He continued to keep to himself, keeping himself occupied with the starting hockey season. The pressure was on with Jack officially playing for the Devils, and knowing that there were scouts from various colleges that were watching him play. Luke dived deep into his training, ensuring that he was eating and sleeping properly, and always coming early and staying later at practices. Quinn had teased Luke about his recent dedication to hockey as a response to being broken up with, calling it forbidden motivation. Luke only brushing off his brother's comments.

Luke wouldn't lie if he was asked whether he missed Y/N, of course he did. He was a smart person though, he knew he would only cause issues between you and your... boyfriend, if he continued to stick around. Plus you seemed happy, including how you was acting around him at that party.

But Luke didn't know about your second thoughts on your relationship with Josh, Luke didn't know that you weren't exactly happy with the lacrosse player.

"Luke!" You called out after him, seeing him a few feet ahead of you on the side walk. He paused in his steps, looking over his shoulder to see you jogging behind him,

"Oh hi, Y/N."

The two of you fell into a comfortable pace as you walked home from school, "Have you been avoiding me?"

"What?"

You chuckled, putting your AirPods back into their case, "I mean it feels like you're ignoring me, you barely even talk to me in class anymore."

He let out a sheepish laugh, running his fingers through his curls, "I've just been busy with hockey."

"Oh okay... So it wasn't because of what I did at that party a month ago?"

"No, I don't care about that. I know you didn't mean that and I don't care if you slept with him. It's not my business." Luke shrugged, still not looking at you even though you kept your focus on him.

"I didn't sleep with him." You told him, "I haven't yet."

"Good for you?"

"Luke..." You sighed, tugging at the sleeve of his sweatshirt, "C'mon, what's bothering you?"

"Nothing, I swear." He huffed, placing his hat back on his head, "Sorry, I have to go. I have practice."

You watched as he turned at the streetlight, making his way back to his house. You frowned at your interaction with him, still unsure of what was causing the distance between you and Luke.

It was now the weekend before Christmas break and you were yet again at another party. One of Josh's teammates was hosting it and it was packed in the small house. You came a bit later than most of the crowd, given that you had an afternoon shift at your job. You walked in, wearing a tight long sleeve with baggy jeans. Josh was nowhere to be found, so you decided to get yourself a drink.

You grabbed a cooler and poured yourself a double shot, you had to catch up to everyone else — who were all clearly intoxicated. You brought the shot glass to your lips, cringing at the strong taste of vodka running down your throat.

"Hey," Luke said to you, grabbing a beer for himself, "I didn't think I would see you here."

"Hi Luke," You give the boy a smile, "I didn't think that you would be here, given your hockey schedule."

He chuckled, "Yeah, practice was cancelled for tomorrow morning so Dylan asked me to show up."

"How have you been? Are Jack and Quinn coming back for Christmas?" You asked him while sipping from your cooler.

"Yeah, Quinn came back last night, Jack is in Jersey until Christmas. He has a Christmas game." He explained, "I've been alright though, sorry again for ignoring you, I was just going through some stuff."

"It's okay, I get it." You replied, a part of you sad that he was going through stuff and wasn't able to talk to you about it, "I'm here for you if you ever want to talk."

"Thanks. When do you leave for Toronto?" Luke bumping his shoulder against yours. You giggle, already feeling the effects from the two shots kicking in,

"The 26th."

"Y/N!" You and Luke's head snap to the shouting of your boyfriend’s voice, to see Josh leaning against the doorway. You could tell by the way he was standing and the look on his face that he was drunk, "What are you doing?"

You feel your shoulders drop, "Sorry, I was just getting a drink and catching up with Luke."

"Come on baby, let's go upstairs." He slurred, grabbing your arm rather harshly and pulling you behind him. You winced at the aggression, bowing your head as you followed him. You looked past your shoulder to see that Luke had pushed himself off of his leaning position against the counter, as Josh dragged you away.

"Not while you're drunk." He told you, though it was mainly you reading his lips due to the loud music. You nodded, "I know."

Luke couldn't shake the weird feeling building in his gut as he watched you get pulled away from your boyfriend. It was chewing him apart as he stood in his spot, contemplating of his next moves. He hesitated for a moment before he decided to go after you. Luke didn’t like how Josh had grabbed you and knowing that you were intoxicated.

“Hughes, where are you going?” Dylan called out after Luke, “Dude!”

Dylan, more inclined to get Luke towards the pong table followed after the taller boy. Luke’s feet led his way as he was still trapped in his own head, his feet carrying him up the steps when his blood went cold. He could hear your voice, your scared voice behind the door.

“J- Josh! Stop!” He heard you cry, “Get off!”

“Is that?” Dylan paused, glancing over at his friend.

Luke’s facial expression hardened before he used his shoulder to forcefully open the closed door, “What the hell is going on here?” He demanded, not thinking twice of his actions before approaching Josh and pulling him off of you.

“What the fuck man?!” Josh snapped, venom in his voice as he glared at the hockey player, “This isn’t a fucking gang bang!”

In front of him, there was you. You never looked so terrified in your life. Your hands were clutching onto your shirt, trembling. Your eyes were brimmed with tears.

“Get the hell away from her.” Luke told Josh, stepping towards him. Luke had a few inches over the lacrosse player, “Dylan, take Y/N.”

Dylan immediately darted towards you, his arms protecting you, “You’re okay, you’re safe. We got you.” He whispered into your ear as he pulled you away from the bed and into the hall. You were violently shaking in his arms while he guided you outside the house.

He continued his attempts to calm you down, though appreciated, you wanted your best friend.

You don’t know how long you and Dylan were outside, he had guided you towards a more quiet area near his car. Your heart was pounding in your ears, your chest felt hot with the adrenaline and alcohol circling in your system. You kept running your hands over each other, attempting to crack your fingers to sooth the anxiety surging in your veins.

Luke eventually walked outside, clearly still heated from the way his legs carried his body. He was glancing at his knuckles, stretching out his fingers and shaking out his hand. His eyes landed on you and his pace immediately picked up to a jog,

“Oh, Y/N…” He breathed out, opening his arms out for you.

You met him halfway, colliding your body into his — allowing for his strong arms to wrap around you like a shield. His scent, the woodsy musk with a tinge of mint, embedded in his clothes comforting you like a warm blanket. You could feel him place a kiss on the top of your hair when you choked on a few sobs,

“I got you.” He reassured, holding onto your smaller frame, “He’s never going to touch you or ever come near you again.”

“L- Luke,” You whimpered, peering up from his chest to look at him. His entire face softened at your tear stained cheeks, his thumb carefully brushing away your tears.

“I’m right here, sweet girl.” He told you, “I’m right here.”

Dylan had gotten into the car that he and Luke drove in to the party, Dylan also being the designated driver for the night. Luke held you in his arms until you seemed to calm down slightly, no longer crying nor shaking. He carefully helped you into the backseats, without a doubt sliding into the seat next to you.

The drive was silent, the occasional sniffle from you while you rested your head on Luke’s shoulder. He kept an arm around you the entire drive,

“Is your home okay?” He asked you, his tone gentle as ever while brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear.

“I don’t want to be alone.” You choked out. Luke immediately nodded, “It’s okay, you can stay at mine if that’s okay with you.”

You gave him a small smile.

Dylan dropped the two of you at Luke’s house, “Let me know if either of you need anything.” Dylan said to Luke as you two climbed out of the car, “I mean it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Luke replied, draping his flannel over your shoulders, “Thanks man.”

“No need to thank me.”

You mumbled out a quiet ‘thank you’ to Dylan before Luke led you to his home. He retrieve a few bottles of water from the kitchen before the two of you made his way to his room. You sat on his bed, focused on your lap while he pulled out a shirt and spare boxers for you.

“Do you want a hoodie?” He asked you, looking over at your saddened position. Luke knelt down to your level, taking your hands into his, “It’s over now. I promise I won’t let him ever come near you.”

“Luke,” You breathed out, noticing his already bruising hand, “Your knuckles…”

His gaze dropped from you to his hand, the dried blood over the swelling skin, “It’s not my blood, don’t worry.”

You eventually made your way to his bathroom, where he left the clothes and a clean towel on the counter. The hot water from the shower head ran over your cold skin, the feeling of his hands ghosting over your body. You tried scrubbing away the feeling again and again and again with Luke’s body wash; tears threatening to fall yet again as the skin turned red from irritation.

His clothes were warm when you slipped them on. They smelt so distinctly like Luke. You made your way back to his room where he was lounging on his bed with his pajamas on. His eyes glancing at the redness of your arms from the excessive force you used whilst washing yourself.

“Come,” He invited you, patting on the empty space of the bed. You crawled up to him, curling into a small ball before he handed you his favourite UMich hoodie, “Here’s a hoodie for you.”

You gave him a little smile while you pulled it on. The edges of the sleeves were thinning from the amount of wear and the drawstrings were tied into a small ball. It was well worn and a few sizes too big but it was perfect.

“Are you feeling a bit better? No, sorry that was a stupid fucking question,” Luke quickly apologized, his hand already going to play with your hair in a comforting manner, “Did the shower help at least?”

You hummed out a response, inching closer to him on the bed. He had your favourite Disney movie already on his TV, quietly playing. Luke adjusted the comforter over the two of you, allowing you to relax further into the bed as the two of you watched the film in a peaceful silence.

Your eyes got heavier and it was harder to keep them open as the exhaustion from the night was getting to you. Luke seemed to notice, “Let me know when you wanna sleep, I’ll head to Jack’s room or something.”

You poked your head up from the makeshift pillow of his chest at his sentence, “Can you stay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You confirmed, watching a content expression wash over his face, “Plus, you’re comfy and warm.”

“I’m glad that I’m at least good for one thing.” He chuckled, snuggling his head into his pillow once he knew that he didn’t have to move for the night.

You sighed, content for the first time since leaving the party. You knew you were perfectly safe when you were with Luke. You allowed your eyes to close, your breathing slowing to a relaxed and calm pace. His arm still around you while you used him as your pillow, tucking your body into his side.

Luke replayed what he saw from that room, from how scared you looked to when he shoved Josh against the wall before finally punching him in the face repeatedly. It was completely out of character for Luke to pick a fight, a physical fist fight. But he would do it for you, any day. Josh had no right to be that close to you, to scare you to the verge of tears. Luke felt himself slowly get more upset the more he thought about the situation, but he felt you shift against him. He looked down to see you, cuddled up against his body.

He smiled as he looked down at your figure, carefully using the remote to turn off his TV and grateful for having longer limbs to reach over to shut off his lamp. The room fell into darkness as he settled for sleep.

“Thank you Lukey,” You mumbled against the material of his shirt, “For everything.”

His heart swelled.

“I’ll always be there for you.” Luke whispered into your hair, planting a soft kiss against your forehead, “No matter what.”

And he was. He stayed glued to your side, whether it be physically or theoretically — due to the both of you separating for winter break. Luke texted you constantly, occasionally calling you in the evenings. When school started again in January, he didn’t leave your side. He waited for you at the street intersection every morning, so the two of you could walk the rest of the distance together. Josh only attempted to talk to you twice, which Luke and Dylan were immediately able to shut him down. Not even giving the lacrosse player a chance to even look at you. Luke would hang around you between classes and during lunch, slowly but surely falling back into your old routine.

Lunches spent in vacant classrooms to complete homework assignments together, going over to his house after school until he had to leave for practice. In which he would always drop you off at home, since he didn’t feel comfortable with you walking back. Sometimes you would go to his practices to do your homework in the stands, or just to simply watch him play the game he loved so much.

You were healing.

Luke was helping you heal.

He kept you company by staying on FaceTime on the nights that were harder for you. You two wouldn’t even be talking, just having each other propped up on the screen as you did different things. On some nights, he would drive to your house to pick you up — the two of you going on long drives with no destination in mind. Aimlessly driving down different roads, making turns here and there. His country playlist that you’ve grown to love so much would be humming in the background as the two of you would park in the middle of nowhere to talk. Even though you two were conjoined at the hip everyday, you both had endless things to talk about. It was so easy, it came so easy.

He would show up to your house every Saturday night with his Nike backpack filled with snacks for your movie nights. You two would lay on your bed comfortably, with a random movie or hockey game on the TV. Luke would have a lazy arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side, both of you cracking small jokes or commentating whatever was playing.

Sunday afternoons were reserved for finishing any leftover homework or class notes in the Hughes kitchen. The two of you would sit at the dinner table, writing away in your notebooks. Ellen would bring you two water or snacks on occasion, and remind you two to take breaks. During those breaks, Luke would often drag you to basement to try to teach you hockey. You weren’t great but it was fun to try, and it was better since you could physically see how much fun it was for him. He would wear a constant bright smile and laugh at your attempts to shoot a goal.

Luke Hughes was easily your favourite person, he was your favourite player on the ice. You wouldn’t miss a single game. You would sit next to Ellen and Jim in the stands, an old blanket draped across you and Ellen’s laps. He would wave at you from the ice each time he skated by.

Junior year had its highs and lows but it was by far your favourite so far. There was an end of year party that was coming up and Dylan had been begging you and Luke to go with him.

“Please! Everyone is going, we should definitely go.” Dylan explained to the two of you, “It’s the last one of junior year.”

“I don’t know,” Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair and placing his pencil down, “These parties are always so ass.”

You laughed at Luke’s comment, “I mean, if you really want us to be there Dyl, then I’m sure we can go.” You glanced over at the curly headed boy, his eyebrow raised slightly.

“See! Y/N knows what fun is!” Dylan exclaimed, “Come on Hughesy, worse case if you leave early.”

“Fine.” Luke huffed, straightening his posture, “We’ll go but I’m not drinking.”

“All good with me!” Dylan chuckled, “More for me.”

You, Dylan, and Luke all entered the house together, weaving through the bodies in the hallway to reach the main area of the house. Dylan had immediately gone towards the fridge to get a drink. You survey the crowd, trying to pin point people that you know. Luke stayed next to you, with a light hand on your lower back as the two of you weaved through the drunk teenagers.

You greeted a few people that you knew as you passed by, them being a bit too intoxicated to say anything more than a "hey!". There were people dancing in the middle of the living room, the neon colours from the LED lights flashing, and the music from the speakers pounding your eardrums.

"Did you want something to drink?" He asked into your ear, his posture slouched to near your height. You shrugged, "I'll start drinking in a bit."

You pulled Luke towards a more empty area, where the two of you could stand whilst leaning against the wall. Dylan had eventually found you both, him handing you a Twisted Tea which you thanked him for before cracking the tab open.

"I want to dance." You told the boys, "And I will need another drink."

"Sure, go have fun!" Dylan exclaimed, "We'll keep an eye on you if you want."

"Don't you want to dance too?" You questioned, finishing the rest of your drink.

Luke raised an eyebrow, "Since when have we ever danced at a party?"

You giggled, slowly pulling away from the two, "You can always join me!" You sang out.

"Have fun Y/N!"

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you spun on your heels to grab another cooler. There were a few girls from your English class that you chatted with while finishing your second drink, which the four of you had agreed to take a celebratory shot of tequila for finishing the semester — before you all made your way towards the group of dancing teens. The alcohol was flowing through your body, allowing you to feel the rhythm of the music and move your hips along to it.

"You are the coolest and nicest girl in our year, Y/N!" One girl, Abby, exclaimed with her voice loud to over come the volume of the music, "Like, seriously girl! You're so smart and you're so fun!"

"No literally!" Sarah laughed, placing a hand on your arm, "Like you're so popular but so humble about it! You literally have every boy on their knees for you. Josh completely fumbled with you!"

You let out a small chuckle, attempting to ignore your ex-boyfriend's mention, "I'm not popular, I just try to be nice to everyone!"

You weren't sure how much time had passed nor the number of drinks you've had since you had originally arrived at the party, but between the drinking, socializing, and dancing — you were feeling the exhaustion creeping up on you. You bid the girls a quick goodbye before excusing yourself, pulling away from the crowd. You searched the room for the tall curly headed boy, sighing happily once seeing him against the door frame with an easy smile drawn on his features.

When his eyes landed on you approaching him, his entire face lit up as he tightened the lid of the plastic water bottle. Luke's eyes darted from one of his friends and back towards you. He lifted his arm up, allowing you to tuck yourself into his side. Your smaller figure fit perfectly under his arm, you leaned your head against his chest as he continued chatting with Dylan and their other friends.

"Hey Lukey," You said to the boy, tilting your head upwards to making eye contact with him.

"Hey you," Luke chuckled, brushing a lone strand of hair out of your face, "Did you have fun, drunkie?"

"I'm not drunk." You mumbled into his sweater, "Just had a few drinks."

He hummed, "Yeah, I saw you hammer out those three cans of Mikes and down a few shots with the girls — definitely not drunk." Luke teased, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just getting sleepy."

"Hey Dyl, we're heading out now. You need a ride?" Luke asked Dylan, who was still engaged in conversation. Dylan waved him off, saying something about either finding a ride or taking an uber home later.

Luke kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you out of the house party and towards his car that was parked a little ways away from the party.

"You looked like you enjoyed the party." He told you, supporting your body while you stumbled in your steps.

"Yes! I saw so many people we knew!" You giggled, leaning further into Luke's body.

Luke chuckled, pulling your body to keep you upwards, "You gotta keep standing upright to walk, sweet girl. Keep leaning into me and you're going to be sideways."

"What's the matter with that?"

"We gotta make it to the car." He said back, "We're almost there."

You let out a dramatic sigh, "Can't you carry me? You're strong from hockey and I'm tired."

"The car is right there." Luke laughed, pointing at his car ahead of you.

"Why are you laughing at me?" You whined.

He rolled his eyes at your drunken state, "Not laughing at you, I promise. Come on."

Luke opened the passage side door for you, you climbed into the seat with both of your legs hanging out of the vehicle. He carefully readjusted your body to slide your legs into the car. His hands brushing over your front as he fastened your seatbelt, "You comfy?" He teased as you rested your head on your hand that was propped up on the centre console.

"Mhm, I like this car." You yawned.

Luke placed a light kiss on the top of your hair, "Alright, let's get you home."

He closed your door and slide into the driver's seat, "You wanted something to eat?" Luke asked you as he pulled away from the curb.

"Oo! Can we get McDonald's? I want nuggets so bad!" You exclaimed, immediately sitting up in your seat.

He laughed, lightly pushing you back into your seat, "Okay, we can get food and then I'll drop you off."

Luke pulled into the drive through at the 24-hour McDonald's, ordering your go to along with a Dr. Pepper for himself. He paid for your food, handing you the brown paper bag. He parked his car in the empty lot to let you eat.

You excitedly opened up your box of nuggets along with the sauce, you nearly letting out a moan of satisfaction when taking your first bite, "You're the best, Lukey."

"Oh yeah?" He said while taking a sip of his drink, "You're saying that because I bought you food."

"No, that's not true! You buy me food, you bring snacks when we study, and you drive me to your hockey games. You've always been the best and no one comes even close to beating you," You explained, still feeling the effects of the alcohol as words left your mouth faster than you could process them, "Like, seeing you and hanging out with you and talking to you is the best part of my day. I could be having an absolutely shitty day but the second I see you and your smile and your perfect curls, suddenly my day is not so shitty and is good again."

Luke's eyes widen slightly as you spoke, his body comfortably lounging in his seat as he listened. His drink untouched in his hands. He watched you as your eyes sparkled while you talked, even between bites of your food.

"And you always watch out for me and you listen to me, like actually listen to me. I know a lot of people but no one sees me the way that you do, no one knows me the way that you do. It's like, whenever I'm with you, I just know that everything is going to be okay because I have you. You're everything I want in a person." You told him, your cheeks flushing a shade of red. Your hands instinctively covering your face in slight embarrassment as you sobered up slightly from the food entering your body. The realization of everything that you 'casually' told Luke, who sat in front of you, crashing over you.

"Oh my god," You whisper to yourself, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make this weird or anything. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Why are you sorry?" Luke asked, carefully putting his drink into the cup holder. His eyes were still on you, his hands gently moving yours away from your face. His facial features softened even more as he took in your shy expression and rosy pink brushed across your cheeks.

His larger and calloused hands held yours, "You shouldn't be sorry because I feel the exact same way, and I have for a while."

"Really?" You asked, your voice small and infused with the same nervous feeling that was engulfing you.

He smiled, "Really. I think there was always something about you since we first became friends that I was always drawn towards. I thought I could move away from it since I didn't want to ruin our friendship... But when you started dating J- you know who, I got jealous because I wanted to be in his spot."

His thumb brushed over the skin of your hand drawing faint circles, "I think it has always been you. You make me a better person and you always bring out the best of me."

"You're going to make me cry," You pout, the surge of happiness and loving emotions filling your chest as tears brimmed your eyes.

"I mean everything I said," Luke reassured, placing a kiss on your knuckles, "And I don't know what is going to happen next between us but I'll be okay with whatever you want."

"I think I want you to kiss me right now." You replied.

His face flushed as a small smirk drew upon his lips, "Yeah?"

You nodded. One of his hands brushed over your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and bringing your face closer to his. Your chest leaning over the centre console to be closer to Luke, the close proximity of you two allowed you to breathe in his scent that was so distinguishably his. You could see every freckle that was sprinkled across his nose and the flecks of green in his blue eyes. His pupils were dilated as he gazed at your big doe-like eyes and flickered towards your lip-gloss coated lips.

His thumb caressed your chin — tilting your face upwards. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours, fitting perfectly with each other. You let out a happy sigh as you bring your hand to tangle with the curls at the back of his head whilst his hands cup your face. His tongue brushed lightly over your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. Your lips part open, allowing for his tongue to dance with yours.

His hands traveled down to your waist, "Come here, gorgeous girl." Luke mumbled against your lips, guiding you to climb over the console and onto his lap. His hand reached down the side of the seat to push his seat backwards to give the two of you more space. His hands trailed down to give your ass a gentle squeeze, causing a small moan to leave your lips which Luke swallowed up with his mouth.

You kept a hand in his hair, loving the feeling of his curls while the other hand rested on his upper chest. Luke had his hands on your waist, keeping you in place on his lap as your lips moved together. You pulled away for a second to catch a breath, your eyes opening to see his slightly swollen lips and blown out eyes. A giggle slipped out of both of you as you leaned down to rest your forehead against his.

"You're perfect." He breathed out, planting a kiss on your cheek.

"What does this make us Luke?" You asked him, "I don't know if I can go back to being just friends after a make out session that good."

"I would ask you to be my girlfriend right now, but I refuse to you in the middle of a McDonald's parking lot at one in the morning."

"Tomorrow then?" You laughed, pecking his lips.

"Mhm," He hummed, connecting your lips again for a brief moment, "Do you want to spend the night at mine or do you want me to drop you off at home?"

"That's a stupid question and you know that," You teased, feeling his smile against your lips, "Yours tonight."

"Alright, let's get going then," Luke chuckled, "Get back into your seat, I promise cuddling in my bed is much comfier than the driver's seat of my car."

You giggled, climbing off his lap and sliding back into your original seat. His eyes stay on your smiling self, his eyes full of adoration and love as he started his vehicle. While he drove, the two of you fell into an easy conversation as usual. Mainly debriefing the party that felt like hours ago and the drama that you had found out about from the girls you were with.

When he parked, he rushed over to your side of the car to open your door. His hand holding yours as he guided you through his house and to his room. Luke gave you a change of clothes and let you get ready for the night in the bathroom.

You climbed into his bed where he flipped open the comforter to allow you to snuggle up to him. You laid your head on his chest, feeling the strong muscles of his pectorals from working out and playing hockey over the years. His legs tangled with yours and his arms wrapped around your middle.

"My mom is going to be the most excited about this when we tell her." Luke said to you, his voice low and quiet. His hands lazily brushing through your hair, "Or Jack, he's been on my ass since the start... Although for a while, I thought he had a thing for you."

"Really?" You asked, tiredness seeping through your words as the rise and fall of Luke's chest brought you closer to sleep.

"Yeah, always told me how sweet and cute you are." Luke chuckled.

"Jack said that?"

His hand paused in its movements, "That's my brother, relax."

"I'm just teasing," You giggled, "As long as you think the same thing."

"Of course I do." He mumbled, "Good night, my gorgeous girl."

"Good night, Lukey."

[awrkive]

[TEASER] CATCH YOUR WAVE (m) — JJK.

the last thing you expected when you strolled into your new school is to become the favorite project of the 5’11” tatted-up overly enthusiastic, golden-retriever-in-human-form PE teacher, jeon jungkook. he’s all goofy grins, bad math puns, and relentless charm, while you’re busy pretending you’re immune to his antics... spoiler alert: you’re not. and that infuriates you. 

alternatively, jungkook tries to prove that opposites don’t just attract — they collide. a classic case of one plus one equals: “oh, no. i like him.”

PAIRING jeon jungkook x (female) reader

GENRE r18+ (fuff, slight angst, mature content) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

WORD COUNT ~15k (still working around the final wc)

TEASER WORD COUNT 1.8k words

WARNINGS/MISC teachers!au, pe teacher!jk, math teacher!reader, seven!jungkook, himbo!jk, coworkers!au (works in the same school), oc gets kinda mean sometimes but jungkook likes it lmfao, extremely corny pick up lines.. he tries 💔 2000s romcoms references (sorry) warnings for this teaser: nothing major. just bad math puns delivered by himbo jungkook :')

NOTES inspired by the whole “can she gaf me💔” vibes in the seven mv (by jungkook) and ultimately the click five’s song, catch your wave (hence the title🥸 pls listen to the song for the whole vibes hehe <3). ive been wanting to write himbo jk for awhile bcs all my jks are like … smart so far so i thought wait we need to change that. gahhhh im so so freaking excited ive been thinking about writing this ever ever since i wrote that one himbo jk drabble 💃🏼

[ CYW MOODBOARD ] • [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

RELEASE DATE 2025, APRIL xx | 01:00 AM KOREAN STANDARD TIME (GMT+9)

They say life is a balance of good and bad days, and you’re not a pessimistic person, but sometimes enough is enough. How is your week already this bad when it’s just barely started? 

Sunday morning, when you picked up your laundry from the shop, you were too late to realize that you mixed not just one but two white underwear with the colored loads. You’d blame it on the fact that they were too tiny, too flimsy for you to notice. But you know you should’ve double-checked before putting them in the machine. And now you have lost two panties. And in this economy? That shit cost a ton. 

When Monday came and the head of the Math Department informed you there was a sudden shift in your schedule for the semester, it meant that instead of teaching three Algebra classes for tenth graders, you’re also teaching pre-Algebra for eighth graders, meaning you’re gonna have to cross the long walk from the high school building to the middle school one, the latter being all the way to the left wing, completely the opposite side of the right wing where the faculty room and your initial classes are. 

Today, you’ve woken up with your WiFi not connected to the internet (something you have to talk to your landlord about when you come back home) and just two minutes ago, you realized you forgot to take your coffee order with you from the cafe across your school building, the sad garlic bread you bought along with it staring right at you without its beloved beverage pair. 

Truthfully, it might be your last straw. How the hell is this happening to you out of all people? The semester is just starting, for god’s sake, and you’re already hanging on by a thread. 

You take a deep breath on your seat before standing up from your cubicle, heading to the coffee machine by the snack bar.

You hate the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep on stocking the pantry with, it’s too naturally sweet – and you don’t like your coffee with sugar. 

But you have no choice but to make do. The cafe’s too far out and your first class starts in about twenty minutes. 

“Good morning, Ms. Math Genius – ready to crunch some numbers today?” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, you shut your eyes close for a moment when you hear the familiar voice. 

You stir your coffee with downturned lips.

“Only if you promise to flex those brain muscles—” You say, turning to look to the side. Much to your expectation, it’s Jeon Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall with that usual faux suave he keeps on around you – which you can’t take seriously because his big doe eyes tell you a completely different story. He’s wearing some Nike dri fit shirt, one that’s too tight around his chest and accentuates a comparatively tiny waist that you have to force your eyes upwards. But as they do, they land on the biceps that are straining against the poor material. It wasn’t lost on you though that one second after, they’re suddenly flexing. You arch your brow as you glance a look on his face. “—as much as you flex those biceps.” 

Jungkook’s lips curl into a huge grin, expecting the jab. 

“You know it!” He chuckles, running his fingers through his bangs. “I’m all about solving problems, and I’d say my favorite equation is you plus me equals a perfect start to the day.” 

You fight a loud groan from escaping your lips as soon as he says that, giving him a certain look before shaking your head and going back to your coffee. 

But you should’ve known better by now, because Jungkook – aside from being a PE teacher extraordinaire and every student’s favorite at that, Thee Football Coach, 5’11” tatted brunette with a long, fluffy hair paired with an objectively, annoyingly attractive face – is persistent. 

Most especially when it comes to annoying you. 

A few steps, and then you feel him getting closer to you. 

“Did you know that—” 

You roll your eyes. That’s it. If it’s another one of his corny math pick-up lines again you swear to god— 

“Jungkook, you don’t have to keep doing this everyda—” 

“—we’re like parallel lines?” 

“What.”

“Did you know that we’re like parallel lines?” Jungkook repeats earnestly, just like he always does. When he’s up in your personal space like this, it’s easy to get a waft of his cologne – and your annoyance could’ve been justified if he smelled like shit but somehow, even though he looks like he just got back from a run judging by his running shoes and gym bag, he still smells… okay. 

Just okay. As in, you don’t care how good he smells like or how he smells at all.

You make sure to keep that thought at the back of your head. 

“No.” You say, hoping to dismiss the conversation right there as you pick up the cup of coffee from the machine, ready to turn on your heel, but then Jungkook laughs ever so slightly and gives your arm a barely-there poke.

“Come on, entertain me a little.” 

You squint your eyes at him. He challenges your stare with a growing smile on his face. Scoffing, you roll your eyes again before you put the paper cup back on the table. With a sigh, you cross your arms and look at Jungkook. For a split second, his eyes cast downwards to your chest level but he quickly snaps out of it. 

“Okay… we’re like parallel lines… why? Because we’ll never meet?” You say in response to his little request, keeping your tone impassive. 

Jungkook’s eyes slowly widen at your words, smile slowly dropping – as if the logic of your words have ruined one of his million pick-up lines again. 

“I– no! What? I meant, we’re like, always running to each other! Side by side. Parallel lines.”

“Okay… so still never meeting?” You ask impatiently, brows furrowing. 

Jungkook mirrors your confusion. Then, he raises a hand, one finger up. “One second. I’ll fix this–” he takes his phone out from his pocket, types on it quickly, lip jutting out as he reads whatever he’s looking up, and then, “Ohh, I might have meant asymptote lines. We’re like asymptote lines.” 

Your face contorts into even deeper confusion. Holy shit, you’re not dealing with this very early on in the morning, especially not after the circumstances of the past hours.

“Asymptote lines are more depressing than parallel lines if we’re talking metaphorically.” 

Jungkook squints his eyes at you, suspicious. “Are you sure?”

“I would hope I know my lines, Jungkook. I teach them everyday.” 

He laughs again, eyes crinkling at the corners cutely, and you hate how that tugs something at your heartstrings. 

You catch yourself right at that moment.

Jeon Jungkook is not cute. You keep in mind. He’s not cute. 

Jungkook thinks you’re so cute. Gorgeous, most of all, and unbelievably so. You and your signature furrowed brows and pink pouty lips.

As usual, you have your hair up in a clean bun today, and Jungkook can smell the lace of sweet vanilla from you as he takes a step closer to get a cup for himself. 

He loves the coffee here. Whatever brand they keep stocking the pantry with, it’s sweet as fuck. Just like how Jungkook likes his caffeine dose. Kind of like you, he thinks. 

Jungkook casts a quick glance at you again, can't really help himself when you're so pretty, although he makes sure to be subtle about it.

You’re wearing another one of your pencil skirts, one that he has to avoid staring at for longer than three seconds lest his mind takes him too far – but the upper view is even more of a torture, unfortunaly for him. Because as much as you wear the same outfit every single day and it should mean that Jungkook should get used to it by now, he can never be immune to your silk long sleeves, where you keep the top three buttons open – and as much as Jungkook tries to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin down from your neck, it’s like there’s a strange force in the universe that keeps him on it. Doesn’t really help that you like crossing your arms under your chest, too, making his mind run a mile per minute at the thoughts that form inside his head when a very apparent cleavage shows—

Alright. Damn. It’s like 8 am. 

And you were saying something about lines…

“Yeah? I hope you can teach me too, I need to—” 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jeon.” You cut him off before he can even finish his sentence, taking your coffee with you as you head to the direction of your cubicle. 

The nickname makes Jungkook’s lips curl up. He probably shouldn’t smile, given that you only ever call him that when you want to cut the conversation with him short. But he can’t help it, it sounds sweet coming from your pretty lips. 

In an attempt to not look like a fool, Jungkook bites his lip as he watches your disappearing figure, your heels clicking on the floor as you walk away. Your legs look so long in that grey pencil skirt, and it really should be criminal how you look like that even when you’re just showing your back. 

In his trance, he forgets about the brewing coffee in his cup and absentmindedly takes it out while the machine is still running, the hot liquid pouring from the nozzle quickly burning the skin on his finger. 

“Oh, shit!” He hisses, jumping from the shock, almost knocking his coffee out but thankfully he manages to catch it on time, just as when another member of the faculty walks by the snack bar. 

With an awkward smile, Jungkook raises a thumbs up to Mrs. Lee. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Lee. Looking rad as always.” He cheerfully greets, and Mrs. Lee’s confusion from seeing him fumble with his cup earlier quickly turns into a coo. 

“Oh, Mr. Jeon, you charming kid. I was just gonna get my cup of coffee.” She says, walking towards his direction. 

Jungkook adjusts the strap of his gym bag to his shoulder and takes a cup for Mrs. Lee with a grin, making her smile. 

She thanks him and with a playful salute, Jungkook goes toward the general direction of his cubicle, and because the PE department and Math department are just across from each other, he walks past you, typing something on your iPad before you look around and catch his gaze.

Jungkook automatically waves, smiling brightly, but you only frown, shutting your iPad close and ignoring him.

Amused, Jungkook tries to fight off a huge grin, taking a few long strides to get to his own cubicle. 

His day is already off to a good start.

© 𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐕𝐄 2025. all rights reserved. copying, editing, reposting and/or translating any of my works are not allowed.

[formulaonecrumbs]

helloo!!! a story where oscar is celebrating a win at a random club and ends up having a one-night stand with the reader, whom he just met? she ends up getting pregnant, and oscar struggles to explain to his family that he's going to be the father of a child with a woman he barely knows. at first, they scold him for being so careless, but over time, he and the reader grow closer, start dating, and his family starts supporting the pregnancy?

sunday night, monday reality 🤰

Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: a one night stand turned pregnancy ruins blesses their lives. now they have to navigate it while barely knowing each other.

warnings: one-night stand, accidental pregnancy, co-parenting to lovers, brief mention of alcohol

A/N: i’m not gonna lie when i read the request, i cackled cause imagine it actually happened 😭😭 one of the single f1 drivers gets some random one night stand pregnant and is just a parent now. that’s so funny to me. anyways, THANK U ANON!!! requests are always appreciated. i hope this isn’t too boring, i tried making it as funny as possible. enjooyyyy, love u bitches 💋💋

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

you never planned on oscar piastri being the father of your child.

because it was supposed to be just one drink.

just one, to celebrate the win. a little toast with his team, a quick “cheers” before disappearing into the night like usual. oscar piastri didn’t even like clubs that much. too loud, too sweaty, too many people trying to pretend they weren’t watching him.

but there he was, two drinks deep, standing in some overpriced monaco club that smelled like vodka and rich people’s perfume.

and then there you were.

honestly, he wasn’t even sure how it happened. one minute he was trying to order water (because he’d already messed up his post-race hydration schedule), and the next, he was laughing at something you said about the guy dancing like a malfunctioning robot.

you weren’t a fan. didn’t even realize who he was until your friend elbowed you in the ribs and whispered something about “that f1 guy.”

you just shrugged. “cool. he’s got nice teeth.”

that made him laugh. really laugh. like, the kind that makes his shoulders shake.

by 3 a.m., you were sitting in a cab with him, giggling like teenagers, way too sober to blame it on alcohol. you both knew what was happening. neither of you said it out loud.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

it was fun. reckless. the kind of story people only half-believe when you tell it later.

he left before breakfast. not in a rude way, just… life goes on.

until yours didn’t.

two pink lines. three deep breaths. one panicked text.

you: so. uh. i’m pregnant?

you didn’t expect him to reply so fast. or at all, honestly.

but he did.

osc: wait. what?

followed by a very long phone call, one awkward coffee meetup, and him pacing your living room with his hair sticking up in every direction like he’d just driven through a tornado.

“okay. okay. we’re gonna—this is fine. i mean, not fine. but not not fine? wow. okay.”

you just blinked at him. “you done?”

he nodded. “yeah. no. maybe. i have no idea.”

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

telling his parents was… fun.

“i got someone pregnant,” he blurted out before they even sat down. classic oscar.

his mum dropped her fork.

his dad blinked exactly once, then said, “didn’t they teach you basic health in school?”

“yes, dad. thanks for the support.”

they freaked out a bit. okay, more than a bit. but he didn’t blame them. he was freaking out too.

he barely knew you. he couldn’t even remember what your favorite color was. but here he was, scrolling baby name websites at 2 a.m. and texting you dumb things like:

osc: what if we name it after a track?

you: if you suggest monza one more time i’m blocking you.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

slowly, you both figured it out.

he started showing up. not in a “look at me, i’m a hero” way. just… he wanted to be there. he came to appointments. brought snacks. made fun of the baby books. (except the one with cartoons. he actually liked that one.)

you weren’t dating. not officially. but he made you laugh. you made him feel normal. and when he talked to your belly and got kicked mid-sentence, he swore it was on purpose.

“this baby’s already got sass. takes after you.”

you rolled your eyes. “you’re the one who talks to unborn humans like they’re your teammate.”

“strategy is important,” he said seriously. “i need to build trust.”

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

his family came around eventually.

his mum knitted a tiny hat. his dad bought a car seat and refused to let oscar install it wrong. they invited you for dinner, asked questions, started smiling a little more when they said “baby.”

you and oscar grew closer without really meaning to. it wasn’t romantic movie-level stuff. more like inside jokes, shared ice cream, and him falling asleep on your couch with his hand on your belly like a protective raccoon.

and then one night, you kissed him.

neither of you said anything about it. just… kept kissing.

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

by the time the baby arrived, everything felt different.

he was calmer. more grounded. still chaotic, but in a “dad who has the diaper bag ready five hours early” kind of way.

you were exhausted, emotional, and slightly murderous toward anyone who told you to “just relax.”

but when he held the baby for the first time—eyes wide, face soft—you saw something shift.

he looked at you and whispered, “i think i love you.”

you blinked. “you think?”

he laughed. “okay, fine. i know. but i was trying to be cool about it.”

you smiled, tears in your eyes. “you failed miserably.”

turns out, unexpected love hits different.

especially when it comes with midnight feedings, matching pajamas, and a baby who somehow has his exact eyebrows.

(“they’re aggressive little eyebrows,” you said once. “they’re powerful,” he argued back, dead serious.)

he learned how to swaddle like a pro. changed diapers half-asleep. sang lullabies that were really just off-key versions of old race radio messages. and somehow, through all the chaos, he made you laugh even when you felt like crying.

you never planned on oscar piastri being the father of your child.

never planned on him staying. or falling. or building a life around someone who’d only been a stranger at a bar.

but damn, he made it kind of hard not to fall for him.

especially when he looked at you like you were the best win of his career.

and maybe—just maybe—you were.

THE END :>

[caramelkoo]

be still my heart — jjk [one]

the one in which you get a sex dream about the grouchy hockey player you work for.

genre : childhood best friends to frenemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.2k

chapter warnings : strong language, mature, slight smut (because im a tease), reader’s name is Destiny, jungkook is a bit grumpy towards her (she makes him nervous leave my boy alone), fat shaming (not by any of the main characters), oc had daddy issues, mentions of allergy. that’s about it, please let me know if i missed something.

a/n : here it isssssss drumrolls please because im so excited for this. jungkook as a hockey player??? *deep breaths* enjoy my lovely people. you’re so so loved. asks, reblogs and likes are much appreciated. kisses <3

read part two here

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Babe, you know you're not going to win right? Don't be wasting your breath.” Bella challenges.

You’re sitting on the chair in your office going through the personnel file of the players. Verifying their names with their contact numbers and photographs which, you’re not going to lie, look like mugshots. Jeez, does smiling a little bit cost them? Anyways, once you’re done you close the file and look up at your assistant bickering with her boyfriend. Phone pressed against her ear. 

You mime hanging up the call and she lifts her index finger, indicating for you to wait. She throws in words like hmmm, yeah, you don’t know what you’re saying, yeah i love you too. Once she’s done, she drops the phone on the glass table in front of you and leans back in her chair. 

“He thinks I will let him get away with anything just because I love him”  

You chuckle, “What’s going on?” 

“You know, I’ve been wanting a cat for so long I even made a pinterest board for that. Last Sunday he surprised me with one and when I told him that I lowkey manifested it, he was not having it. I even showed him the mood board and I NEVER show it to anyone. Evil eye is real.” she all but cries out. 

That’s Bella for you. Highly spiritual and a firm believer of the universe. She claims that everything happens for a reason. She’s like a little ball of sunshine. Ever since you joined the Ice Dominators’ hockey team as a physical therapist, she’s been assisting you and you couldn’t be more thankful seeing the lack of female workers here. Seriously, there's no other female worker here except yourself and Bella which is so diabolical to you.

And it’s not like the men on the hockey team are a bunch of misogynist jerks. On the contrary, they act like they’ve known you for years. It didn't take you long to feel like home here. They are obedient, friendly and pretty nice. Few of them are married with kids while the rest of them remain single. They’re not like a bunch of teenagers, they know what they’re doing.

Except one, what’s his name? Jeon Jungkook. You would describe that man as crude and closed off to a pathological degree. You still remember when you asked him to come to your office so you can look at any possible previous injuries, he lied to your fucking face. Claiming he doesn’t have any when you could clearly see him hobbling sometimes just a tiny bit when he walked away. Years and years of dedication towards your studies have made you capable enough to catch that it is an old injury.

Despite your better judgment, you blamed it on the fact that his team lost the game that day. Poor guy was having a bad day and took it out on you. Big deal. 

“Earth to Destiny” Bella waves a hand close to your face and you shake your head as you look at her.

“Leave the poor man alone” You plead and then ask, “Any details about the new player? I’ll have to add it in the file” 

“Not yet, as far as I know they’re still contemplating the guy named Park Jimin or something”

That gets you real quick. Park Jimin. The name feels like acid on your tongue .The last game being unsatisfactorily resulted in the federation trading one of the players. It was cruel but was done for the better. Bound to happen sooner or later. You had expected it but what you had not expected was you both sharing a same room, sharing the same air.

“Alright then. We’ll cross that bridge when it’s—”

Knock, knock

“Miss Kim, sorry to interrupt but the manager is asking for you” Taehyung’s head pokes through the door.

You stand, picking up the file and sliding it into the tableside drawer, running a free hand over your scrubs. Bella does the same as she plucks her phone from the table and puts it inside her back pocket.

You look at him. “Sure Tae, thank you for informing”

He flashes you a quick, pretty smile before leaving. Bella turns to you with a worried look on her face.

“What do you think it is for?”

You bite your lip. “I have no idea. I wanna say it's about the new player but who knows?”

You hope it is and as unfortunate as it is for you to discuss him, you will have to hold your own. You know better than to be invited into the manager’s office. Though, judging by the temperament of him you would not predict anything. Last time when he called you, it was about Jeon Jerk, asking you to be more serious about your job as if it was your fault the man spared you the necessary details.

The asshole asked YOU to do your job better by virtue of HIS player not being sweet enough to listen. Maybe, there is indeed a misogynistic asshole going around and it’s the manager. No wonder women don’t volunteer to work for him.

Since, You love your job —god knows you wanna keep doing it— you kept quiet and took every jab he threw at you.

“Wait, Do I have time to pray? Should I pray?” she’s clearly panicking and you pat her on the shoulder.

“Just hope my job is still intact” you say, warily reaching for your purse. You both head out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Miss Kim, have a seat” James nods at the chair before him.

Once you’re settled, he continues, “I asked for you to join me here regarding the upcoming game. Care to fill in about the status of injury assessment?"

You clear your throat, “Absolutely, I was planning on getting on that today” 

“Well, I would love for you to do it soon as you know we have a new player in the team with us now”

You jerk, leaning forward. “We do?”

“Yes, and if you can please hurry with the assessment I would be grateful. You can do that right? Not too much of a work for you, eh?” 

Someone give him a medal from the way he's trying to hide the venom in his voice.

“Sure I can” you give him a firm nod. 

James Adams is an entitled, self centered asshole who thinks he’s above everyone else just because of his position. You reckon he does anything for the team besides talking bullshit. He kind of reminds you of your dad who also has the nasty habit of thinking the world of himself.

You’re all about self love but when that self love turns into chronically demeaning everybody in their close proximity, it boils your blood. This man in front of you is no better than your father. What's that saying? Out of the frying pan into the fire.

So you say nothing further and excuse yourself. You would have barfed in his face if you stayed there a second longer. Actually that's not a very bad idea. Bella is standing outside waiting for you as you close the door behind yourself.

“What did he say?” 

You bark, “Bunch of horseshit” 

“Typical” 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook 

There is a buzzing noise somewhere around Jungkook. Fuck, his head hurts. He frantically searches for his phone, still not opening his eyes. When he finds it, he slides his thumb on the screen and picks up the call. 

“Dude, how big do you want your coffin to be?” He loves his best friend but right now he would rather be sleeping than listen to him bark in his own ear. 

He finally squints his eyes open, “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Have you looked at the time?” says Taehyung.

“What time- FUCK!!!” he shrieks as he looks at the clock.

Somebody kill him right now. No wait, he’s gonna die either way so why bother. If he didn’t scream loud enough before, he does now. He all but jumps off the bed when he sees the blondie on the other side sleeping like she fucking owns it, wearing nothing but a thong. She must have heard him malfunctioning because soon she stirs, groaning as she slowly wakes up like a Disney princess. Who the heck is she and how did she get in here? Then it comes to him.

“Please Jungkook just take me to your room and fuck me. Show me what those hockey hands are capable of.” 

He wants to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Speaking straight from his shoulders, he has made plenty of bad decisions throughout his career and this is not his first time bringing a puck bunny up to his room but it has never come to this. Missing his hockey practice because he was too exhausted to get his sweet ass up and run to the academy. 

Taehyung screams from the other side of the line, “Are you there? Hello?” 

Shit, he forgot he was on a call. 

“I’ll be there soon. Cover for me until then.” With that he presses the red circular button and ends the call with him muttering some curses.

He glances back at the blondie, “Why are you not gone yet?” 

She’s looking at him with those fuck me eyes she had last night but right now when he’s well aware of the fact that he’s in hot water, they don’t do shit to him. Coach will have his head on a platter today for sure. Honestly, they wouldn’t have done shit to him if it was not for the great deal of alcohol last night.

“I thought of you as a morning sex person” she twirls a strand of hair with her finger, sitting up now. Her tits hang free and he can see his hickeys decorating her chest.

He wants to laugh. She’s not even close to his type. His type is the woman in blue scrubs with her brunette hair slicked back in a ponytail. His type is the woman who looks like she could be watching grass grow rather than to look at him. His type is the woman who walks into a room and lights it up. His type is the woman who is too bright for him and his mundane personality, who has a face worth millions. His type is Kim Destiny. 

“No need to waste your precious time thinking about me. You can go” 

He places his phone back on the table and saunters over to the bathroom, not bothering looking back at her. He has boundaries and he intends to keep it that way.

He quickly goes through his routine of taking a shower, making a cup of coffee, sliding into a pair of sweatpants and the Ice Dominator’s jersey with his name on the back. Not in that order, of course.

The girl is thankfully gone by the time he finishes. Once he’s done with his coffee he picks up the car keys and a protein bar from the kitchen counter and heads to the academy hoping his limbs remain intact by the time he’s home.

The Academy is bustling as usual with players keeping themselves busy with hockey and their gym sessions. He heads straight for the rink not even bothering to change into the uniform. He needs to see for himself that everybody is still on the ice. Everything comes after that.

Surprisingly, he sees not a single guy when he reaches there. His heartbeat stops.

“Hey Pixie, where are the boys? Did they already leave?” he asks the brunette kid who looks like he just saw a ghost. Or it’s just Jungkook who he saw.

He shakes his head, “They’re all in the gym. The doc called them earlier, said she had something important to get done with them” 

Jungkook gives him a quick thanks and walks towards the gym. What could be so important that she had to call the boys mid practice? Is someone hurt? Is she hurt? His heart leaps in hid throat as he runs. Fuck, please let him be wrong.

The first thing that he sees as he enters the room full of equipment are his teammates. Taehyung and Yoongi are in the corner lifting weights, Namjoon is using the treadmill as he runs on it. The rest of the boys are all scattered around doing their own thing. He still can’t find Destiny anywhere but her assistant, Bella, is talking to Namjoon while holding a file so he lets out a sigh, relieved that nobody is in fact hurt and in need of help. 

“Do you wanna get a tattoo on the peni— oh look who’s here. Jeon Jungkook as I live and breathe.”

Taehyung drops the weight on the ground before walking up to him. He’s dressed in a black tee and sports shorts. The man looks good in everything. Bet he’d look in a sack too. 

“Whoa!! Why do you look like you wanna kill somebody or wanna get killed? Is everything okay?” 

Jungkook lets his face relax, focusing more on the eyebrows which had gone tensed due to his unnecessary anxiety. “Yeah, all’s good. The practice ended early?” 

“The practice ended just on time. It’s you who’s late” he pats my shoulder. 

He runs his fingers through his hair and walks towards the bench, dropping his bag on it. Taehyung follows him ignoring Yoongi who’s calling him back for the weightlifting. 

“Doc wanted to assess our injuries for the last time before our game if you’re curious which, I know you are. You’re always curious about her” 

He winks at Jungkook and he punches him on the chest. Taehyung laughs as he rubs the spot.

“Keep your voice down, will you?” 

Bella’s voice echoes across the room, “Jeon, you’re up next” 

He takes out his water bottle, takes a swig and stands. A wince leaves him as he gets a flashback of the last time he had to face her. It didn’t go very well and he’s sure she hates him now. He would too. After all, he not only talked to her rudely but also lied through his teeth about his injury. It’s pretty old so he had not felt the need to mention it. 

He sees a guy coming out of the office just before he’s about to enter. He has brown hair long enough to reach the nape of his neck. Even from where Jungkook’s standing, he can say the man doesn’t reach above his shoulders. Who the fuck is he? Oh wait, he must be the new player that got traded down here. The guy must have sensed him making a hole through his head by the way he’s staring because he’s begins walking towards him with a bright grin.

“Hey man, you must be Jeon Jungkook? Heard a lot about you. I’m Park Jimin” He holds out his hand, asking Jungkook to shake it and he gives it a firm handshake. Word to the wise : never give someone a weak handshake. His grandfather has been asking him to do that ever since he was 15, said it doesn’t leave a strong impression and he’s be lying if he says he was wrong.

He offers Jimin a nod, “Nice to meet you. Excited to get on the rink with you.” 

He takes his hand back. “Oh the feeling is mutual but—”

“Jungkook, please join me inside” 

Destiny’s voice cuts him off as she looks over to both of them with an eerie expression on her face. Her eyes bounce between them, resting a second longer on Jimin. Does she know him? Do they have a history? Wait, are they a thing? Even if they are, why does it bother him? Jungkook couldn’t care less about the pretty physical therapist who wears her blue scrubs like armor and white crocs with strawberries on them.

He gives Jimin another nod and follows her into the office. Although, he’s not sure if a massage table and a stool resting beside it counts as an office. The room which she works in is much better. This one is just for examinations and massage therapy so he guesses it doesn’t need that much of an upgrade.

She gestures towards the table, “Please sit”

He says nothing and settles himself up, clearing his throat.

“Look I know we got off on the wrong foot last time and it could have gone so much better, but we can still start over right?”

Destiny takes a deep breath, filling her chest with air. She’s wearing her hair in a bun today. It sits at the top of her head and some strands are set loose cascading down her face. God, she’s pretty.

He looks down and back up at her. “Sure”

Her face shows her annoyance with the one word response. He doesn't blame her. He'd be pissed too.

She’s quiet for a moment, “Why don’t you tell me about your knee injury to start with?”

“What are you talking about?”

She sighs, “You know what I’m talking about Jungkook. Please don’t make me work for it. It’s my job to know about your past and present injuries, if any. The manager has already given me crap about it”

He freezes. His hackles rising and his relaxed face long gone.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing”

He levels her with a stern face, “What.did.he.say?”

She’s not obligated to answer him. Hell, she could just slap him in the face and leave but he needs to know what went down with that son of a bitch. When and if she decides to let him in the details and it turns out something wicked, he’s gonna hunt that man down and make his life miserable.

Much to his surprise, she takes a step back and starts talking. "He called me in his office today and," she halts,

"Well let's just say there were some words thrown around which clearly meant he thinks of me as a feather brained bitch"

He might look unbothered from outside but the indignation inside him could just about burn the whole city down. He tries to keep calm and pries some more.

His jaw clenches. "What else?"

Destiny shakes her head, shuffling on her feet. “Jungkook it’s really not that seriou—”

“It is serious. You work for us, you tolerate our asses and in return if we fail to give you the respect which, you deserve by the way cause it’s the bare minimum, we might as well save everyone’s time and money by giving all of this up.”

“Why do you care?” she shakes her head.

He takes a step forward, “Because you— Because you work for us, Destiny. You look out for our bodies, our injuries, our fuckups. Is that not enough?”

She barely reaches his shoulders. It’s cute how she has to crane her neck up in order to look him in the eye. She keeps looking at him for a long minute, searching his face.

“You think I don’t know that? Do you really think I don’t have what it takes to ask for my own dignity?”

He takes a long step back. This conversation was as unforeseen as they come. The room gets filled with heavy silence and he can hear Destiny’s heavy breath. He can tell she’s trying to calm herself as if his words have blindsided her.

Needless to say she’s a tad bit taken aback. Jungkook would be too if someone who never bothered to speak a word to him and when he did, there was nothing pleasant about his tone suddenly started to care.

But that’s where she’s wrong, nothing about his care or concern for her is sudden. He still remembers the day she accidentally drank the almond smoothie Bella brought not knowing the fact that she’s allergic to it. She’d started choking the second it went down her throat. He also remembers how Yoongi injected the epipen against her thigh as she came back to life.

Meanwhile, he stood behind shaking in his goddamn boots. Too scared to let her out of his sight and too pathetic to hold her close. Yeah, he’s not proud of that.

He sighs, “You know that’s not what I meant—”

Namjoon walks inside with a hand towel around his neck “Doc, you about done? The boys are being incorrigible over there. If you don’t hurry, one of them is gonna call a tattoo artist and get their dick tattooed. Right here”

The room falls silent.

“Jesus” she looks over to where the guys are bickering about something, propping her hands on her hips. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

“Sure” and with that he walks away.

She picks up a blue file from the stool, not looking at him. Why is she not looking at him?

“If you don’t want to tell me about your injury right now, that’s fine. Since, I know it’s pretty old and It’s unlikely that you’re gonna get affected by it in the upcoming games, there’s no need to worry. However, I would still suggest you be careful. Anything can happen out there and your knee is in a vulnerable position. Don’t pick unnecessary fights, don’t let the opponent know your weak link.”

She glances at him, dropping the file back to where it was.

“You can go”

Without a preamble, he heads outside, passing Taehyung. He hears him cracking a joke about penis tattoos and piercings with his girlfriend’s name on it. Destiny cracks up and Jungkook wonders if she would have done the same, had he been the one cracking the joke. Only, he doesn’t crack jokes. Not around her at least. It’s not like he's some grumpy bastard who wants nothing to do with anybody around him and thinks of him as omniscient.

There’s just something about Destiny which puts him at loss of words. Knotting his tongue it in such a way where he can’t get an expression out. Only look at her and god, does he look at her. He's not stupid. He knows it’s a crush but she’s like a mirage to him. She’s unreachable, forbidden and so fucking beautiful.

Does he want to make her his? Yes, Is he going to risk his career and hers over it? Absolutely not. So, he makes use of the only right nobody can take away from him. Not even her. Admire her from afar. Fantasize more about tasting her, licking her slender neck and worshipping the ground that she walks on and one day if she lets him, Jungkook will do anything to turn all of that into reality.

He finds Yoongi seated on of the benches, scrolling on his phone.

Facing him, Jungkook speaks in a low voice. "Do you have any idea where James is?"

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

Never have you ever wanted to run away as much as you did when you saw Jimin in front of yourself, standing all tall and proud. You had wished it to be a dream, wished you just had a nightmare about him joining the same team you happen to work with but reality is a goddamn bitch and it bites hard when it does. He had grown out his hair longer but he still has the same smile, same eyes and the same charm he used on you back then. Park Jimin is a man people don’t ever forget once they see him. He has an aura which traps everyone so hard they can never escape. How do you know? You have been a victim yourself.

You meticulously go through the consequences and eventualities of being in the same room as him again. You seeing him everyday and him reminding you of every single detail you have tried so hard forgetting about, the boys finding out about you both and putting you through the wringer or worse, him. The possibilities are endless and you feel the sudden urge to square everything with him.

Contrary to what you had thought, he reacted pretty normally when he saw you as if somebody had already told him about you. You had expected him to get shocked or at the very least pretend to be shocked.

Having said that, he just gave you a single nod as if you're someone he passes by every morning at the park. Are you this forgettable? Are you someone people just brush aside like that? Your father’s words echo in your ears like loud drums,

“You know, nobody will love you if you keep looking like this. Eat less”

“Girl, do you ever stop eating? Every time I see you, you're stuffing something in that mouth of yours!!”

“Don’t come running back at me when no guy gives a shit about you”

You were 10 and he was an asshole. He still is.

Thanks to him, you now have a tendency to cook when you're stressed over anything. It brings you comfort and diverts your mind from the excessive overthinking. You would go bald if it puts the voices into silent mode.

After already wasting half of your life speculating what to eat, counting calories and whatnot, you came to the terms that you can’t actually operate that way and began eating whatever the fuck you wanted. Yet still, you need to go a long way in order to fully love yourself and your body. It's a journey and you're moving ahead step by step. One day at a time.

One would even say you're hot. You have received compliments from several people over the course of time except you don’t have a thigh gap, your arms jiggle and you also happen to have a love handle. You would have adored them if it wasn’t for your dad making you feel shitty about having them.

A knock on your door stops you midway as you're kneading the dough. Biscuit runs over to you, jumping on the counter.

“Coming”

The knock comes back again, this time slightly louder.

“Oh my god wait I’m coming”

The door swings open and you gasp. “Mina?”

She passes by you, dragging her suitcase along with her.

“Hey bestie”

You close the door and follow her further into the hall. “What’s going on? What’s with the suitcase?”

Your best friend’s sudden arrival must have caught you by slight surprise but your cat is rather pleased to see her. Traitor. She starts clawing at her feet excitedly.

“What a good girl you are? Yes, you are” Mina coos at her and then glances up at you from where she has biscuit nestled in her lap,

“I need a place to live for a few days because my shitty boss kept rejecting all my articles and I really wanna bring her something worth the front page. Apparently, writing about the famous coffee shop around the corner and their secret ingredient being maple syrup wasn’t good enough.”

You round the counter and continue kneading the dough for your strawberry pie. It’s not unlikely for Mina to show up unannounced. In fact, she has done that plenty of times but the suitcase was never involved. This one is new.

“So you decided to barge in here without even asking?” You tease.

She flashes you a dramatic look. “Look at us, Destiny. Aren’t we the same girls who giggled about living together after college? With matching slippers and movie marathons?”

“Okay okay you dramatic bitch. How long are you here for?”

Biscuit runs to do her business and she gets up, setting her suitcase to the side.

She sighs, “Not sure. As long as it takes me to come up with a new topic to write about–HEY— why don’t I just write on the hockey team you work with? What are they called? Ice…ice”

“Ice Dominators” you fill in for her.

She slaps her thigh. “That’s the one”

You shrug, “I mean you can, but you’ll have to call in on the coach first. He operates everything inside and outside the team”

Coach Ian is too nice to turn her request down. He’s one of the most genuine people in the federation. Maybe this is why the team is so strong and united. He respects every single boy and receives it tenfold. It's a mutual thing.

“Shit, How come I didn’t think about that” she bites her lip, her enthusiasm replaced by nervousness.

“Don’t worry. He won’t make you work for it. Ian is as nice as they come” you assure.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. As you watch, she opens your fridge, taking out the box of frozen blueberries and pops one into her mouth.

“Do you want me to give you a hand?” she mumbles while chewing.

You point towards the bathroom, “Go and take a shower, right now. You stinky”

You duck the blueberry she throws your way, laughing as you do. Giving your cheek one last kiss, she excuses herself.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Warm hands roam over your thigh, squeezing them. You muffle your moan with your palm and take every thrust. 

“Yeah, you like that? You like how I’m pounding into this ass right now?” 

You gasp. 

“Such a good girl” he praises.

The man behind you presses a kiss to your naked shoulder as he rasps in your ears, “Were you walking around all day dripping for me?” 

He pulls his cock out and thrusts again. You meet him with equal passion and hunger. 

“Tell me” 

You nod. 

“I need your words, Destiny” 

You cry out, “Yes Oh god, Yes. I wanted you in me so bad” 

He cups your pussy and rubs your clit with his palm until you're rolling your eyes to the back of your head and squirming. Thrust after thrust he brings you to your sweet release while talking dirty things in your ear. You're about to melt into a puddle of goo. He’s got you totally at his mercy. 

“So beautiful like this. Taking my cock so well huh?” 

“Ahh it feels so good, right there. Just right there, don’t stop” 

He bites down your shoulder, “Come for me and let everyone outside hear the name you’re screaming, you dirty whore” 

Your heartbeat picks up as you squeeze him with the tight ring of muscle, orgasm crashing over. 

“FUCK. Oh my god Jungkook!!”

Your eyes fling open and you sit up so fast your head starts spinning. Everything around you is pitch black. Wait, where am you? 

Mina is at your side in an instant, “Destiny, are you okay babe?”

You look around and release a sigh of relief. You run your fingers through your hair, ruffling them. 

“Yeah um… I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” 

Except it wasn’t. It was one hell of a dream where you were getting fucked into oblivion by your player. You're not even going to lie and say that you didn’t like it. C’mon you're a woman of needs, it’s just that, him fulfilling those needs was not on the cards for you even if it wasn't real.

You check the time on your phone and wince at the bright light flashing up at you. It’s 2:45 am and you just had a back breaking sex dream about a man who you want nothing to do with. Who, as beautiful as he is, annoys the hell out of you with those one word replies and grumpy face. An edgy feeling threatens to rise.

Oh god it’s going to be awkward now. It’s only normal to walk on eggshells around someone people have these sort of dreams about. You have read your fair share of books where the female character gets a sex dream about a man and then they don’t talk to each other for the rest of their lives. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch but it might as well not be.

Yeah, you admit you guys don’t talk to each other a lot as it is, or are longtime best friends tiptoeing around their feelings, but you're afraid you're gonna have to ignore him forever for the sake of your own sanity. 

I’m so fucked. You think.

tags - @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw

[taasgirl]

blame - driver!reader x grid

summary: driver!reader goes to war protecting her teammate and best friend, max verstappen.

a/n: this is NOT a romance smau!!

liked by user76, user98, and 6, 872, 014 others f1 Following a breach of conditions set by the FIA, Max Verstappen will serve a mandatory community service period.

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynusername just say ya'll can't handle him and move on!!!

user27 be careful y/n, they'll send you too user46 HAHA SHE'S SO REAL

user51 this is so stupid

user90 who decided this???

user75 Okay I understand him getting community service for the Ocon incident, but for swearing?

user21 they're treating max like he's a child

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, and 2, 379, 918 others ynusername unbothered, moisturised, and definitely plotting to overthrow the fia!

tagged: maxverstappen1

user59 My dreams 5 minutes before my alarm:

user61 y/n and max are never beating the platonic soulmates allegations

user87 Get yourself a teammate that fights the FIA on your behalf @/estebanocon

maxverstappen1 I was going to say something nice then I saw the last photo.

ynusername pls still compliment me x

oscarpiastri I agree with the caption

landonorris ur too ashy to be moisturised

view ynusername's story...

caption only the FIA could ruin a beautiful flight @/alex_albon

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 1, 256, 280 others ynusername me and bro suiting up to destroy the FIA

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

lewishamilton This is why you're my favourite on the grid

ynusername this is why you're the 🐐

oscarpiastri Hey I hope you were joking when you said you'd be turning into a grid terror haha (please be joking)

ynusername don't worry ur safe xx

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS Y/N???

landonorris If me and my gang pull up ahh post

ynusername yup you're now my number one target for unironically using 'ahh'

maxverstappen1 I hope I am bro

ynusername there's no one i'd rather serve community service with

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, and 3, 287, 3389 others ynusername don't worry I won't actually replicate crashgate. however, please know that I have free reign over my radio xx

landonorris Thank god u had me scared for a minute

user49 y/n is taking this too far 😭

ynusername oh i can go further if needed

lewishamilton HAHA this is gold y/n

ynusername when I have the praise of sir lewis hamilton then I know that I'm doing something right

user20 OMG Y/N GOING INSANE ON RADIO IS A NEEEED

user91 y/n is the only reason i'm tuning in this weekend

view ynusername's story...

caption: I have some business to attend to this sunday afternoon

liked by user62, user87, and 209, 557 others f1updates Not shy on the radio so far! Y/N on the formation lap, and she'd already quizzing her engineer.

user83 she's so unserious i love her

user90 This is my sign to strictly watch her onboard today

user41 y/n really is going to put on a show huh

liked by user 34, user75, and 1, 722, 981 others f1updates A few of the unhinged thing's Y/N was saying during today's race. Safe to say that she may be sporting a ban for the next race.

user38 her engineer replying with 'affirm' is so fucking funny to me

user92 And ya'll still wonder why she's my fave driver

user47 THE WAY THIS ISN'T EVEN EVERYTHING SHE SAID

user28 what else did she say??

user47 @/user28 she went on a whole tangent about how stroll is a prick that shouldn't be in f1 😭😭

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 3, 615, 248 others ynusername FIA knew I'd be too powerful for another race (hey at least bestie doesn't have to do community service).

maxverstappen1 You're insane I love you

ynusername dinner is still on you right?

landonorris NOOOOOO RIP Y/N

ynusername bitch i'm still alive

oscarpiastri Welcome back Kevin Magnussen liked by ynusername

redbullracing She might be crazy, but she's our kind of crazy!

ynusername pls keep me employed ya'll

view landonorris's story...

caption Yes, she still has the helmet on

view maxverstappen1's story...

caption Okay time for us to get to work

eeee i hope you guys liked this, please let me know if you did!

[valeisaslut]

Chill day head cannons with reader and Ellie cuz they deserve it :(

yes. yes. YES nonnie. they SO deserve it. gonna give these two horndogs some well deserved break from the drama. coming right up:

COLLIDE POPSTAR!READER AND ROCKSTAR!ELLIE VERY MUCH NOT CHILL DAY HC'S:

sundays in new york are miracles. your schedules never align. NEVER. but today they did—no shows, no press, no 5 a.m. calls. it's like god got drunk and said “fine, they can have one day.” so now it's just the two of you in ellie’s nyc apartment, tucked somewhere downtown in a building with too many windows and no privacy. the bed's too big, the coffee’s too bad, and it’s perfect.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ellie’s awake first—god knows how, the world must be ending—and she’s laying there with her hair a complete mess, yesterday’s eyeliner smudged like war paint, scrolling through her phone. one arm behind her head, phone tilted dangerously close to falling on her face.

you, meanwhile, are starfished beside her. dead to the world. breathing soft, mouth open, cheek squished into the pillow. you're wearing her merch tee that reads FIRE ME UP in faded tour font, massive on you and somehow bunched up to your collarbones, exposing the laciest pair of black panties known to man and just enough skin to send her into a full-blown crisis.

she blinks. watches you for a solid five minutes, already mentally sketching you. then, pokes your cheek with one calloused finger.

“babe,” she whispers dramatically, “wake up. your titties are out. i’m in distress.”

you grunt something that sounds like “no they’re not.” she grins, tucks her phone under the pillow, and kisses your nose.

“they are,” she murmurs, already slipping her hand under your panties. “but don’t worry. i’ll handle it.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ coffee is code for aftercare. burnt, instant, somehow sacred. you both pad into the kitchen half-naked, ellie in her boxers and you are still in panties and the same tee. she starts the coffee machine while you sit on the counter, bare thighs pressed to the cold marble. when she stands between your legs and hands you a mug, you take it with one hand and cup her jaw with the other. “you make good coffee.” “you make good decisions about shirts.” and takes a sip from your cup just to be annoying. ends up with you bent over the counter.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ she lets you pick the movie after. and it’s a romcom, obviously. she complains the whole time—“this dude’s so fucking cringe. he’d cry if you didn’t text back in 3 minutes.”—but you catch her sniffing when they kiss in the rain. she blames it on the coffee. her arms stay around your waist the whole time. her chin rests on your shoulder. you don’t comment on the way she hums your song under her breath halfway through. but you hear it.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ she draws you while pretending not to. again. you’re lying on her lap, scrolling your phone, and she’s got her sketchbook open behind you, tongue between her teeth, drawing your thighs like they personally offended her. you only catch her when she mutters, “god, you’re such a brat.” it’s not even under her breath.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ midafternoon. sunlight bleeding through the windows. you're half-dressed in a tank top that’s more suggestion than shirt and shorts that shouldn't legally count. your unreleased track is thumping through ellie's speakers—sultry, bass-heavy, pure trouble—and you’re dancing in front of the mirror like you’re back in rehearsals. hips rolling. hair sticking to your neck. sweat catching on your collarbone.

ellie’s on the couch in sweats and a sports bra, fully manspreading, eyes heavy, pretending to scroll her phone but watching you like you’re the halftime show at the end of the world. eyes almost piercing your ass.

“what you doin’?” she asks, voice low, dangerous.

“new choreo,” you hum, spinning slowly, catching her gaze in the mirror. “need to test out the bridge.”

“test it on me,” she mutters, not even blinking.

so you do.

you strut over, straddling her lap like you own her (you do). your hands find her shoulders. hers find your thighs. the music keeps playing, slow and hot, and you roll your hips against her like you’re still rehearsing, like the couch is the stage and ellie is your spotlight.

“you’re gonna kill me,” she groans.

“goal achieved,” you whisper, just before your lips brush her jaw.

the track loops like 15 times. the neighbors hear everything.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ the grocery run is an actual disaster. tried to go incognito, but you two are the worst at laying low. you’re in sunglasses and a slutty little zip-up that’s barely zipped, ellie’s chain heavy around your neck. she's in a leather jacket, beanie low, licking cheeto dust off her fingers like she wasn’t the one who opened the bag in aisle seven.

she grabs your ass in the meat section. hard. you yelp. she smirks.

you both leave the store only with flour, a bottle of wine, and a jumbo-sized bottle of lube in a fully transparent plastic bag. the lube was completely on purpose. a pap snaps the shot right outside and ellie throws up the middle finger with the same hand that was just on your ass. next morning, TMZ runs the photo with the headline: "ROCKSTAR AND POP PRINCESS GEAR UP FOR WHAT CAN ONLY BE DESCRIBED AS THE APOCALYPSE."

comment section is in shambles. someone tweets: “girl math: wine = foreplay, flour = aftermath, lube = survival.” they’re not wrong.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ it starts innocent—just you, ellie, a bag of flour and a pot of water doing its best impression of mount vesuvius on the stove. you’re halfway through making pasta from scratch (don’t ask why, it’s sunday, you’re unhinged and saw a nara smith tt) and somewhere between “do we have basil?” and “babe that’s not how you stir it,” and being horny from the wine, she grabs the spatula like it’s a mic, throws her sunglasses on, and goes:

“yo.”

you freeze. “…not again.”

“yo.”

“…ellie.”

“name another goat who got a strap and a grammy— bad bitch in my bed, she a popstar but she callin’ me daddy.”

drops the spatula like it’s hot. literally. it clatters to the floor. throws her head back like she just ended eminem's career.

you nearly snort prosecco out your nose but you recover. quickly. pick up a wooden spoon and point it at her like a weapon.

“got the tats and the guitar, you act real tough— call yourself daddy but you whined when i rode it rough.”

ellie clutches her chest. “that’s below the belt.”

“so was i.”

she paces, dramatically wiping her nonexistent tears. “aight. aight.” then clears her throat and goes,

“got a popstar wearin’ diamonds on her coochie, you sing high notes while you bouncin’ on my—”

“ELLE.”

“i was gonna say lap! jeez.” (she wasn’t.)

you clap back with:

“you bring the strap, i bring the hits, they scream my name more when i ride your di—”

"OKAY."

you both go feral. pasta’s burning. the kitchen’s a war zone. flour in ellie’s hair. marinara on your shirt. the neighbors file the third noise complaint of the day. you’re crying from laughter. ellie claims she let you win and uploads a blurry story captioned: “rap battle. i was robbed. #freeversequeen.”

she adds “rapper (unofficial)” to her instagram bio for exactly 20 hours. deletes it after you post “this you?” with a clip of her tripping over a rhyme in your story.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ the shower is not innocent. not even a little. it starts soft—her hands in your hair, your arms around her waist. and then is forehead pressed to tile, your breath fogging the glass. ellie behind you, one hand tangled in your wet hair, the other sliding lower. “you’re unreal,” she pants against your shoulder. “you’re so fucking unreal.” it’s slow, intimate, soaked in need. shampoo drips down your spine while she kisses your neck and moves like she’s been dreaming of this. it’s worship. it’s reverent. steam and moans and soft gasps. it ends with her holding your trembling body to her chest like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“you feel so fucking good,” she breathes against your throat. “so real. like i don’t have to pretend when it’s you.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ you end the day on bed again, half-naked under the blanket, one hand under your tank top, the other scrolling through tiktok. she shows you a thirst edit someone made of you both. you pretend to be annoyed. she bites your thigh. you moan into her ear.

there's a half-eaten pint of ice cream on the floor, your hair is still wet, and her voice is soft in your ear—“i missed you. i miss you even when you’re here.” she’s shirtless, you’re glowing, and the tv is just white noise to the rhythm of your joined breathing.

outside, new york screams.

inside, you whisper, “i love you.” she kisses your shoulder and says, “say it again.”

the day is unholy. earned. love and chaos in equal parts. and when the world comes knocking again tomorrow, you’ll answer it knowing that sundays like this exist.