#but i hope you guys get it bc like. my mind is scrambled over this rn

[skrunksthatwunk]

sorry just watched all of lacey's games (thru rabbit hole at time of writing) and i wanna talk about laceys diner can we talk about lacey's diner? we're talking about it now

tl;dr lacey's games is about the presentation and consumption of girls.

cw suicide, csa, incest, cannibalism. if you've seen the series, you know. i only speak of them vaguely here though

in lacey's diner her livelihood depends on how well people like her food, how it looks, how it tastes, how quickly she gets it to them on time. if any of these things falter, they reject her and reinforce her desperation (trauma around failure and acceptance + threat of extreme poverty via the restaurant closing).

eating her food is accepting her, choosing to be with her in some way. lacey gets eaten in the prior episode so her stalker can be with her forever, out of an obsession with her (/her body) that leads him to destroy her to better possess and consume her (like her uncle). she can't be late serving them herself, because that's not good presentation—her inability to get food out on time is a reflection of her flaws, and a cause to reject her. she must be available for others, punctual. she can't put the wrong ingredients in—elements of herself, her life—she must exclude them entirely from the part they eat, the part she gives away. she keeps the part that is filled with the disgusting, ugly, painful things in her life, about her.

and when she gets fed up and feeds those raw, authentic parts of herself to them (out of spite, tired of trying her best to no avail, to give them a taste of their own medicine), she is punished, not allowed to serve anyone again bc it's too gross and dangerous. she is punished for lashing out, for not keeping it all bottled up, and in her helplessness, resigns herself to death.

as seen in rabbit hole, jay was too boyish to be consumed happily by the audience (the mothers in the emails), so she was killed off and effectively haunts lacey. if she is not presentable enough, she too will be destroyed and discarded. if she is too presentable, she will be consumed too completely. she has no control, no say (as we know from lacey's wardrobe), no agency outside of pretending she's in a sparkly dreamy world. and jay—who said she would rather die than wear makeup—is forced by lacey to wear makeup in death. she's fixing her by making her conform to the same gender standards she's strangled by, saying that if she was less boyish she wouldn't have died. again, femininity and conformity (and thus being pleasant to others, presenting oneself to be admired and consumed) is safe to lacey, something she must perform to survive. yet, of course, lacey is hurt immensely for her being a girl, for her being a woman, and for her trauma resulting from those events.

all her talk of being ugly when she's grieving, of almost crying in front of him (her uncle iirc), of needing to be pretty even for the people who abuse and hurt her... and how she wished the world was ugly and grotesque when jay died because that was how it felt, but it was just sunny and oblivious. she was the one standing out for being upset, and the world was pretending and consumable and she couldn't anymore. she had to scrape herself together though because what else is there? when her job and stability and life is at stake, how can she afford to be traumatized? to not pretend, even when she's alone? augh. ough. look i just like lacey. i want her to be ok

i don't know that lacey herself is supposed to have a linear, consistent story. i kind of think she's an avatar for like,, girlhood suffering and trauma, and the traumatized people who come from that (hence her dying in multiple ways and coming back). perhaps as rocio's way of warning or comforting girls who went through similar things to her, or to vent her own issues because the thought of making something that's such a farce, such a forced, gussied up version of what it's like to be a girl, bothers her. the audience comes to the website to consume lacey at her best, at her most presentable, and are instead met with the harsh reality of cockroaches and used condoms. and yet, the audience of lacey games the video series consumes her too, only they are seeking out her trauma, trying to invade her mind and pick it apart. we're all consuming what we want, whatever we find appetizing, of lacey. and for rocio, you get the sense that she is also a tool, a way for rocio to express her inner distress. in that, lacey is put through all this unfortunate shit by rocio to make her more presentable and consumable to her. we are all using lacey, we all see her and eat her and destroy her. and she comes back to us and her cage because the pain's comforting in its familiarity.

in short, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. 👍

[cheriiyaya]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 uh oh, what do the BSD boys do when they're a little too jealous of the attention you're getting?

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Contents: Fyodor, dazai, and chuuya x Fem!reader (separately), sfw but suggestive (except in fedya's bc he's a "good christian"),they all wanna kill the guy "flirting" w you (fyodor actually kills him lmfao), uh not proofread so excuse any spelling errors, kinda a test run for me writing for fyodor, reader knows Russian in fedya's part, fyodor being kiiinda manipulative, religious themes in fedyas

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 A/N: was this an excuse for me to write them a lil possessive?...yeah it was. anyways this is my first time writing something suggestive so i hope it's good (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is indeed, a rather selfish man. While he's not so selfish as to be extremely possessive of you, he does get jealous. Most of the time it's petty; small pouts and whines that are easily remedied when you pepper kisses onto his face and spoil him with your attention that he loves so much.

this was not one of those times. Right now, he can't believe what he's seeing:

A client of the detective agency, flirting with you.

Dazai watches in cold silence as the man laughs at something you said The man leans over a little too close for dazai's liking and whispered something in your ear, causing you to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh.

If he was his teen self, dazai would've stuck bullet after bullet in the man's head.

He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes in your direction, trying to pull you attention away from that man and towards him with some unknown pull. But you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, fluttering pretty lashes with every blink of your eyes and tilting your head in that endearing way as the man was telling you something..

There was a sensible part in dazai's mind that told him that you weren't reciprocating the man's advances, saying that it wasn't that big of a deal, but he couldn't ignore the curl and twist in is stomach and heart watching you and this man.

Then after a minute or two he just couldn't take it.

He gets up from his desk abruptly, ignoring the few pens and papers that fell off his desk as he strides behind you. He plants his chin on the crown of your head, cocking a lopsided smile that read more like a hidden threat towards the man.

"Bella'! Ah, socializing I see, aren't we?" He runs his bandaged hands down your arms, squeezing the squishy flesh on your upper forearm. His eyes were trained on the client, who was now blinking, looking at you then at dazai for a few time before realizing his error. The man scrambles up, chuckling awkwardly before walking away, and from the look on his blood-drained face you can tell he'll probably ask another one of the detectives in the agency to help with his case.

Once the man leaves you look up at dazai, a crease forming in between your furrowed eyebrows." Osam-" You were cut off by a sharp kiss, dazai hooking a finger under your chin and drawing you closer to him. Letting out a muffled cry of surprise, you try to pull away, which succeeded doing absolutely nothing. With a breathy shudder dazai digs his nails into your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest and teeth nipping your bottom lip which elicits a soft whine from the back of your throat. He presses his lips onto yours roughly, sucking away the breath in your lungs and only pulling away when he's red in the cheeks and breathless. He pulls away slowly and you draw in a shaky breath through swelling and parted lips, the world around you spinning and your limbs trembling furiously. He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, rubbing it and pressing down onto its soft plush. Dazai draws you close and whispers against your ear, breath brushing against your neck and causing your hair to stand up on end as he speaks;

"My, my bella', seems like you've forgot who's girl you are, hm? Don't worry, I'll make you remember soon enough, juuust wait."

Nakahara Chuuya

Oh god he was so going to kill mori after this.

The two of you were sent on a mission to collect information from a man, which landed the you two in an expensive bar in the heart of Yokohama.

He's repeating the same few words over and over again in his head like a mantra: "it's only a mission, it's only a mission" as he watches you sit flush besides the target, a young man in his late twenties.

But he felt seething envy curl up like flames in his stomach and sear his thrumming heart.

"No, it's just the alcohol." He mumbles, taking a sip of the expensive wine he had ordered, his thoughts drowning out the noisy chatter of people and music and the bright lights of the bar to an incessant buzz. He wasn't...envious or anything. That's quite stupid you don't even like that man! Yet he just can't help but look at the two of you, the way your pretty lips curled into that sweet smile chuuya loves so much as you placed a hand on the man's arm and giggled bashfully at whatever joke the man had told you.

Probably wasn't even that funny. Chuuya bites down on his tongue, resisting the urge to pull you away from that man as he took a sip of the wine that burned down his throat and settled a warmth in the pit of his stomach.

That warmth that brought drowsiness did not help the flare of envy chuuya felt as the man tugs you onto his lap. The man had one hand just under your ribcage and one in between your shoulder blades, tugging you close to him and whispering against your ear.

Bad idea. A very bad idea indeed.

In a flash chuuya weaved his way through the crowd of patrons-or rather shoved his way through with no regards to anyone-over beside you and glared at the man, eyes piercing holes into the man as he pulled you off his lap.

"Don't ya think you're a little to drunk doll?" He chuckles, but he did a terrible job at hiding the bitterness in his voice. This was so stupid, it would jeopardize the whole mission but chuuya didn't care;

Right now, the only thing on his mind was you and jealousy.

You look up at him, blinking and opening your mouth to protest against your alleged intoxicated state when chuuya pulled your through the crowd of people by the arm and out into the cool night street. Once out, you looked at chuuya with wide eyes and mouth agape from shock.

"Chuuya! What are you doing, you could've ruined the mission!" You scoff, blinking a few times before realizing something from his silence and the stare he's giving you.

"You're jealo-" Your chuckle of disbelief was cut off by his lips meeting yours, chuuya pulling closer to him. He mumbles in between kisses, ranging from short and sweet to hungry and harsh. A gloved thumb dragged from the corner of your mouth to your cheekbone as chuuya pulls away from your lips to leave desperate kisses over your face and jaw. Somehow in the midst your fingers found their place tangled in messy ginger strands and you only realized this fact once he pulls away, leaving you breathless with redden cheeks.

"Ha, can't believe some guy would try to take this sight from me, huh pretty girl? Better keep you by me all times now, can't let some guy think he has a chance with my sweet girl."

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor is no jealous man. Envy was one of the seven cardinal sins, and Fyodor was a man of God. Besides, what is there to be jealous of for a man like him?

Until, he feels an unfamiliar feeling stir inside him as he sees you with another man as you waited for Fyodor.

The way your face lights up in that way when you flash a mirthful smile to that man as the two of you chat about some mundane things. The way delicate fingers tuck stray strands of hair from your face and hold them there as you talk to this stranger causes fyodor to feel something that he hadn't felt in a while (or perhaps just blocked out).

You hadn't realized fyodor coming up behind you until you felt him tap you your shoulder.

"Ah, who is this, milaya?" He smiles in that unnerving way, not the soft smile he'd give you after you beg him to take so rest from his work. This smile read more as a threat.

To you or to the man you were speaking to, you couldn't tell.

Fyodor tugs you to his side, quickly telling the man you were waiting for him before he pulls you along with him.

"Who was that? What were you telling him myshka?" He spoke in Russian, the sharp pronunciation vibrating off the walls of your ears.

"mh, just a man, Fedya. Why?" You tilt your head, furrowing your eyebrows. He sighs and smooths his thumb over the crease, offering a smile to ease your troubled expression

"Ah, just worried. Don't talk to strangers, who knows what kind of intentions they may have." Intentions such as distancing you from him. He brings your hand up to his mouth,, gently kissing your knuckles and rubbing soothing circles onto your palm.

No matter, there would be no way anyone would take you away from him. You were his little doll.

The next day, Fyodor offers to stay inside all day saying that he wished to spend time with you.

How naive for you to believe that, instead he kept you in to keep you unaware of the news of the man dead on the banks of a river.

Wrath, another cardinal sin yet there was no sin great enough that Fyodor wouldn't commit to keep you.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!

©Cheriiyaya 2024

[miniwheat77]

Awkward. (Gaz x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Virgin!reader, p in v sex, virginity loss, unprotected sex, awkward reader, mentions of reader being picky, violence, sorry if I missed any. This sat in my drafts forever lmao

(Lmao, it’s my time to shine bc I’m the most awkward bitch you’ll ever meet.)

Your face contorts in disgust as you look upon the contents of the MRE, you hated it. You’re carrying more than you should, trying to get to the mess hall. You lay them out on the countertop, going and sitting down. Pretty much the only thing you liked in this were the crackers. Soap sits down at your table, smile growing at his lips as he sees you eating the crackers. “Gross again?” He asks. “Always.” You mumble. When everyone else sits down at the table, you stand up to go get a water and Soap chuckles. “What’s funny?” Gaz asks. “She’s so awkward.” He mumbles. “Yeah, but she’s funny.” He shrugs. “Yeah, I like that she knows how awkward she is.”

“Do you remember when Captain Price put her on the spot in a meeting? She wanted to ring his neck.” Gaz laughs. Soap laughs too. “I don’t know, her awkwardness is cute.” Gaz shrugs. “Yeah it is, she just seems so…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? Yeah.”

You make your way back to the table, water bottle and crackers in hand. “You want my crackers too?” Gaz asks. “No, the smell of sin is making me nauseous,” you groan. “Sin?” Soap asks. “Yeah, the smell of whatever the fuck they put in those MRE’s is sin. You can’t change my mind.” You laugh. Gaz shakes his head. “How are you so picky?” He smiles. “Because, I hate everything.” You mumble. “Jeez, so uptight.” Soap mumbles. “Need to get laid little lady.” Soap tosses a packet of crackers your way, laughing as your cheeks heat up. You’re embarrassed and he can tell he’s struck a nerve. “Let’s not talk about who needs to get laid. You’re so touch starved, anything even mildly shaped like a woman turns you on.” You roll your eyes. “Hey, I never denied it.” He smiles. “Yeah, don’t go too crazy on the training mannequins.” You smirk, earning an eye roll from him.

—

“Hey Y/N.” Gaz smiles. You’re not expecting him and he startles you. You jump slightly, knocking over your capless water bottle and scrambling to pick it back up. “Oh shit!” You gasp. You stand up, trying to brush the water from your shirt. “H-hey Gaz. What’s up?” You ask. You hope he won’t be able to see your bright red cheeks but he can. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He chuckles. He passes you a few napkins from a table next to you. “I was wondering if you’d be my spotter tomorrow morning when I work out. Soap usually does it but he’s not feeling very good.” He says. “Uh.. yeah sure- yeah.” You laugh awkwardly.

He reaches out, taking the cap to your water bottle and screwing it on before setting it back down. “Thank you.” You blush. He smiles.

Captain Price chuckles when Gaz comes back toward him. “For how awkward she is, she’s a real good soldier.” He laughs. “Yeah, it’s odd.” Gaz smiles. “She seems more awkward around you.” Captain Price points out. “You think so?” Gaz looks at him. “Yeah, maybe she has a crush on you.” Captain Price laughs. “I doubt it.”

—

“I’m going to scrape my eyes out with my fingernails.” You groan. “Y/N, you’re going to be fine.” Soap chuckles. “No, no I’m not, I hate this.” You sigh. “Why? What’s so bad?” He asks. “Soap. I joined the military, not the fucking royal family. I hate dresses. I hate dressing up.” You groan, tugging the dress down your thighs. You had to borrow it from another girl on base. “Plus this dress barely covers my ass.” You groan. “Yeah. You look a lot different.” He laughs. “Different how?” You ask. “Hey guys.” Gaz smiles. He’s dressed up really nice as well. “Hey. And also, you look like a girly girl.” Soap laughs. You roll your eyes. “Y/N is complaining once again.” Soap looks at Gaz. “Isn’t she always.” He sends you a wink, and you try to ignore it. “Yeah, because this is misery. I don’t wear dresses.” You groan. Gaz smiles. “You look really good though.” He smiles. “Liar.” You mumble. “I’m gonna go get wine drunk and try to pretend this night never happened.” You groan.

“Wonder why she’s so awkward.” Soap laughs. “I don’t know.” Gaz shrugs.

A few hours later, you’re a little tipsy. Captain Price has made a toast, he’s thanked everyone, you’ve met family members of fellow soldiers. It’s pretty fun even though you hate the way you’re dressed. You’re tipsy, sitting back in your chair. Smiling lightly at the story Gaz is telling. You really love them. They’re like your best friends. “You okay?” Gaz looks at you. You nod your head. “Just listening.” You smile. Something about the half-tipsy half-lazy smile you give him, sparks shoot right through him, chills going down his spine. He tries to shrug these feelings off. “You don’t seem as awkward when you’re drinking.” He laughs. “Liquid courage.” You smile, raising up the glass of wine. He smiles. “Alright, time for some fun.” Soap rubs his hands together. “You should tell us something cool about you.” He smiles. “Soap, she’s been drinking.” Gaz rolls his eyes. “So? She’d do it to me.” He laughs. “What do you want to know?” You look up at him, bringing your legs up onto the chair. “Why didn’t any of your family come here?” Soap asks. “Ah, I didn’t tell them about it.” You laugh. “Why not?”

You shrug. “They’re just.. it’s a long ways for them to come and I didn’t want to be disappointed when they told me they couldn’t make it.” You laugh. “Your boyfriend isn’t going to come?” He asks. You smile. “Boyfriend?” You giggle. “Yeah.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend. Never have.” Soap tilts his head. “What?” You giggle again. “Not exactly the dating type.” You roll your eyes. “So..” Gaz swallows a little harder than he intends. “How does that work? Like friends with benefits because you don’t date or..” this makes you laugh. Taking him off guard. “Oh god no. I’m too awkward for that.” Gaz and Soap exchange glances. “So.. have you never…” Soap trails off. “What?” You ask. “Have I ever had sex? No.” You roll your eyes. Taking another drink of wine. Gaz’s eyes widen. Soap and him exchanging glances. “Why not?” You raise an eyebrow. “Have you seen me?” You giggle. “If I have a crush on somebody, I keep that to myself. I am so awkward if anybody ever found out I liked them, I’d die of embarrassment.” You smile. “Huh. Do you like anybody on the task force?” He asks. Your cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “Oh you doooo. Who is it?”

“None of your business.” You roll your eyes. “We’ll find out sooner or later.” He smiles. You roll your eyes. “I’ll take it to my grave thank you very much.” You chuckle. You stand up. “I’m calling it a night,” you mumble. “Yeah, I’m going to go see what Simon is doing.” Soap stands up, walking off. “You need me to walk you back to your room?” Gaz asks. You smile. “You can if you want.” He stands up, pushing his chair in and walking along with you. Gaz liked you. He got along with you pretty well. He thought your awkwardness was funny and cute. He’s got his hands in his pockets as he walks beside you. “So.. where did the awkwardness start?” He asks. “I don’t know, it’s been that way forever.” You laugh. He nods his head. He’s smiling. When he reaches your room, he says his goodbyes, and for once you’re not too awkward, the wine most likely. Once he finishes up his goodbyes, he goes on to his own room.

The following morning, you’re a little hung over. But nonetheless you make your way out into the mess hall. “Ah. There she is.” Soap smirks. “What?” You mumble. “I don’t see any hickeys or bruises.” He crosses his arms. “What are you talking about?” You’re getting nervous. “We saw you and Garrick leaving together last night. Thought maybe you gave up your v-card.” He smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I don’t even remember last night.” Your cheeks are burning and you’re avoiding his gaze. “I forgot my belt.” You mumble, disappearing back down the hallway you came from. You rush down the corridor until you meet Gaz’s door. You knock a couple times before walking straight in. “Woah-“ he mumbles, spinning around. He’s just now getting dressed. He doesn’t have a shirt on and his pants are still unbuttoned. “Sorry- I just- did something happen last night?” You mumble. “What do you mean?” He asks. “I just.. Soap said he saw us leave together and I don’t remember anything- did- oh god.” You mumble.

“Did we have sex?” He asks as he crosses his arms. Your face is beat red and you look frustrated. “No. We didn’t have sex.” He laughs. “Oh thank god.” You mumble. “I- I mean. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant.. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with you- I- just-“ your eyes are wide as the words leave your lips. He’s smirking at you, taking a step closer. Arms crossed over his chest. Your lips are parted, still in shock at what you’ve just admitted. The only thing you can think to do is leave. Hearing his laughter as you leave, closing the door behind you.

“Stupid- stupid.” You mumble, pacing back and fourth in your room. How the hell were you supposed to go out there after that? After admitting to him that you wanted to have sex with him? You chewed at your lip nervously. You hear your Captain call over the radio that everyone needed to meet in the mess hall. You groan in frustration. You make your way outside, staying completely emotionless as you make your way outside. You sit down at the table you usually sit at, looking over a magazine. You can feel eyes burning into you and you know for sure it’s Soap and Gaz. “We’re leaving on a mission in 15, make sure you have absolutely everything you need. This is an important mission.”

—

Gaz of course sat right next to you for the entire ride to the zone. “Y/N? Everything okay?” Soap asks, he’s got a smirk on his face. “Fine, just nervous.” You mumble. “Because Gaz is sitting next to you?” He teases. “Ha ha ha.” You roll your eyes. “Because we’re about to kill a bunch of assholes and put our lives on the line.” You mumble. “I didn’t think you still got nervous on these.”

He’s caught you in a lie. “Yeah well.. whatever.” You mumble. “You don’t do very good under pressure.”

“No I don’t, I lash out and get violent, why do you think I’m in the military.” You smile. He laughs. “I’m just pulling your leg. But ay, after the mission maybe if you ask him politely enough, Gaz will hit it again.” A snort leaves your lips. You roll your eyes. “After this mission maybe if you’re still alive, I’ll ring your neck and the enemy won’t have to.” You glare. Gaz places his hand on your thigh, your body going rigid immediately. “Relax, he’s just talking shit. It’s what he’s good at.” Soap notices the way you tense up, seeing you staring down at Kyle’s hand. You clamp your thighs together immediately. Hands clutching at the bench until your knuckles turn white. You’ve clearly got a crush. Soap shakes his head, smiling to himself. You’re so obvious.

The helicopter lands and everyone files out, taking direct orders from Captain Price and Ghost. Your demeanor changes from that of awkwardness to stealth. There’s no time for playing games, only time for war. “This is Capture or kill. We need the intel inside.” Ghost says to everyone. “We’re moving slow, staying with a partner. Keep focused.” He helps guide everyone and eventually everyone is splitting into groups.

“You know it’s you who she has a crush on, right?” Soap mumbles to Gaz. “I know.” He laughs. They’re taking post up in a building and watching over everyone below. “She came into my room this morning because she didn’t remember anything that happened last night-“ he pauses, taking a shot and hitting an enemy below. “Incriminated herself pretty bad, that’s why she’s so frustrated and snappy.” He smiles, one eye closed as he watches the area below. “You know if you fuck her the attitude will go away right?” Soap chuckles. Gaz rolls his eyes. “I know. Just waiting until the time is right.” He pulls the trigger again. Soap smiles. “Woah, what’s going on?” Soap calls into his radio. He sees you burst out of a building, firing your gun rapidly into the door. You’re limping. “They’ve got Myles inside.” He can hear you groan into the radio. “I’ve got him, just give me a minute.” You empty another full magazine into the bulky door. Kicking it open despite your injury. Gaz has moved his attention to you as well for backup. They hear more gunfire, your radio must’ve been damaged because they can hear everything but it’s a little muffled.

When you reappear you’re dragging the sergeant out and wrapping your shirt over his wound. “Think his femoral artery was grazed, he’s bleeding bad.”

“I’ll get medical out.” Ghost says into the radio.

“Just keep him safe.”

“No worries here.”

All you’ve got on now is a tank top and your vest. You’d used your shirt to bandage his wound. You’re kneeling by the edge of the brick wall, gun close in your hand as you wait patiently. “Lookin good Y/N.” Gaz mumbles into the radio. He just knows you’ve rolled your eyes at him. “Eyes on target Garrick.” You groan. You pass a water bottle to the injured man laying up against the wall.

“I’m gonna go help her out. You got it?” Gaz says to Soap nods his head. “Go help your girl, Garrick.” He chuckles, Gaz makes his way down the stairs in the watch tower, creeping his way over to you. Soap watches him close in on you. “Let’s carry him out. Medivac will be around where we came in.” You nod your head, picking up the man and helping Gaz carrying him out. Once he’s safe, you’re both waiting with him to keep him safe.

—

The mission was overall a success and once you’ve been bandaged up, you’re limping your way around the base. You’re getting a lot of stares because you aren’t wearing your normal attire. All you’ve got on now are some shorts and a t-shirt. You’re making your way back to your room with an MRE when Gaz approaches you. “Hey. I got you something.” He smiles. You look at him in confusion. “Can I come in?” He asks. You nod your head, pushing your door open and letting him in. He sits down on your bed, sliding an MRE from behind his back. “Here.” He holds it out, seeing your eyes light up. “No way! How did you get it?” You smile. “Found it when I was snooping through some stuff. Saved it for you.” He smiles. “Thank you Gaz.”

What he’s given you is the only kind of MRE you won’t complain about. “You did good out there today. Hope you didn’t get hurt too bad.” He smiles. “Oh no.. just tore a muscle I think.” You mumble. You clear your throat. “Look um.. about this morning.” You mumble. He laughs, looking down. “I.. I totally messed up what I was going to say. I just.. I don’t think that you would take advantage of me or anything- oh god I’m rambling.” You groan. He’s smiling at you as you fall further into the hole you’ve dug for yourself. He takes a step toward you, and you step back. You don’t even realize you do it, it’s how you react by nature. “It’s not that I wouldn’t want to-“

“Y/N.” He interrupts you. “Yeah?”

He cuts you off by kissing you, and he can feel your body tense up. Your eyes screw shut and it takes you a second before you kiss back. But when you do, he deepens the kiss, pushing you back into the wall behind you. A hiss leaves your lips when you step wrong and he smiles into your lips. “Sorry love.” He mumbles, pulling away. “It’s okay.” You mumble. Your lips are plump from his, slightly pinker than before. Your pupils are blown out. It’s quite the look on you. He likes it. He leans in and kisses you once more, feeling you melt into him. Giving into him completely. He glides his hand up onto your hip. Feeling you tense up into him. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, he's showing you that he wants to take this further.

Your brain is a scrambled mess when he pulls away. Staring up at him as he smiles down at you. He licks his lips, taking in a deep breath. You're breathing so hard and he can't help but chuckle at you. "Hey. Relax." He rests his forearm on the wall above you. Pinning you into the wall. He's clearly overwhelming you, but he likes seeing how flustered you are. "You okay?" He asks. "Yes. Just.. feel weird." You breathe. "What, here?" He glides his fingertips over your clothed opening, feeling you jump away from his touch. He smiles at the way you shutter from it. A taunting laugh leaves his lips. You take in a deep breath, grasping his wrist. “Kyle..” the breathlessness is your voice shows him just how needy you are. You glance up at him. He leans into you. Lips right by yours once more. “You can stop me you know?” He breathes. Fingertips returning to your clothed opening. He rubs gentle circles over you. You pant, but you don’t move away from him. You close your eyes, taking in a breath. Pushing your hips into his hand. He smiles at this. You really want him this bad. He presses his lips to yours, putting a bit more pressure against you. He presses a kiss the corner of your lips, moving down to your neck. Sucking gently at the skin and nipping at you. You’re getting more and more needy as he touches you. The awkwardness slowly slipping away.

When he pulls away from you, he can’t help but smile. You’re a mess. “You look good like this.” He bites his lip.

“So.. do you really want to have sex with me, or were you just saying that?” He teases. “Yeah- yes. I do want to have sex with you.” You breathe. “Oh, those are fighting words sweetheart.” He smiles. “I’m serious.” You breathe. “I want you.” His smile starts to fade away, a laugh leaving his lips. He grasps the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head. He reaches out, grasping your shirt and pulling it over your head, attaching his lips to yours again. Your cheeks are hot and he can tell you’re nervous.

Gaz isn’t usually one to take control like this but he knows you’re too nervous to.

And he can see that it’s working. “There’s no rush sweetheart. No need to be so nervous. If I do anything you don’t like, you can stop me.” He mutters the words right near your ear and you can feel the deep darkness of lust swallowing you up. How even when he’s got you right in the palm of his hand he’s still reassuring you, proving further the kind of man he is. He lowers his hand between your legs once more, gliding his fingertips over your opening. His light touch sends chills up your spine. The pleasure wraps itself around your spinal cord, you can feel yourself stiffening up at his touch. “Like it baby?” He breathes. You nod your head. “Yes.” You whine. He applies a little more pressure, circling right over your bundle of nerves and even through the fabric, his hands on you makes it more intense than it’s ever felt.

He’s just about to close the deal, but a knock at your door draws his away from you. “Fuck.” He groans. “Yeah?” You call. “Just checking on you, everything okay?” You hear your captain call through the door. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just sore.” You breathe. Gaz smirks as he watches you.

“Hope you’re not harassing her, Garrick.” Your cheeks turn a shade of crimson. “Just keeping her company old man, making sure she takes care of herself.”

You hear him laugh, his footsteps fading away. “Guess I should leave you alone before he comes back, hm?” Gaz laughs, moving closer to you and lifting his shirt up off of the floor, handing out yours as he does. He slips it back over himself. “I’ll be back.” Gaz laughs. He steps away from you. Because he knows if he doesn’t he’ll fuck you hard enough for the entire base to hear.

And he can’t have that.

—

“She’s a fucking brick of a woman.” He hears Soap laugh. “What makes you say that?” Gaz asks, turning away from his scope to look at Johnny.

“Because, last mission she drug a 6’2 200 pound man no problem. This time, maybe you should see for yourself.” He nods over. “Swap me.” He raises his sniper up, swapping with Soap. He lines up his scope, seeing you. You and Ghost are sneaking into the building, you’re clearing out the outside. They allegedly have hostages and you don’t need any murder suicides on your hands. So you’re taking it slow.

The men in this compound are fucking massive and Gaz watches you move up on each one of them. Taking them down with ease. “She is insane on the field.” Gaz laughs. He notices you struggling with one of them, lining up a shot. He’s worried for a second since the man gets himself on top of you, taking a swing at you. Gaz flinches as he connects with your face. But one hard kick to the chest has him flying back. You pin him down, knee right to his chest to restrict him. You draw back, fist knocking into his jaw, laying the man out cold. You reach into your side, raising your hand with a knife and bringing it down to his throat.

“You good Y/N? That was a hell of a hit.” Gaz asks. “What happened?” Soap asks.

“Nah, I’m good.” You sit up. Soap makes his way over, as Ghost is already inside and he can no longer see him. He notices through his scope that you’ve got blood rushing down your nose from where the man hit you. “He hit her fucking hard.” Gaz cringes. “Ah, she’s alright. I’ve seen her get hit way harder and not even flinch.” Soap mumbles. “Doesn’t look like it, Lass. You need help?” Soap asks. He hears you snort.

“I’ve fallen off of buildings, been blown up, have had more concussions than I can count on one hand and have enough shrapnel in my body for the 2 of you combined. I’m good.” You laugh.

“This is the military, not a walk in the park. One asshole hitting me is the least of my worries.” You mumble, walking up behind a man and stabbing him right in the throat.

“All clear on my end.” You call.

“Mine too. Hostages have to be somewhere else because they aren’t here.” Ghost calls back. “Watch for stragglers, I’m about to arm the bomb. After that we’ve got exactly three minutes to blow this popsicle stand.” You mumble. They watch you messing with something for a minute. “Armed. Get out of here!” You call.

Gaz and Soap arrive first. You close after, and than Ghost saunters up last. The building and everything inside explodes behind the four of you and you smile as the flames roar up. “I see what they were talking about.” Ghost laughs. “Looks like that bastard packed a punch.” He nudges you, seeing you smile. “Yeah well. He’s in the flames and I’m not so. I punch harder.” You laugh, walking up the ramp, into the helo. The three men follow you inside.

“Look, all I’m saying is, you better make a move before I do.”

Gaz rolls his eyes at Soap. “She’s off limits and you know it.” He laughs. It’s dinner time and you’re getting cleaned up. “Don’t get me wrong she’s awkward as hell but how badass she is just… had me rockin a semi through the entire mission.” Soap laughs. Gaz scrunches his face up. “Gross.”

“I’m serious Gaz. You better get in there and pop that-“

“Please don’t say Cherry.” You groan, making them turn toward you, eyes wide. Ghost laughs harder than he should at their shocked faces, caught red handed.

You sit down. “You good?” Gaz asks. “Yeah. Fucker broke my nose so they had to crack it back into place and pack it.” You groan. They can tell by the already forming bruising under your eyes that you’re probably hurting. You sit down, leaning back into your chair. “So. Other than Gaz ‘popping my cherry.’ What’s new?” You smirk, crossing your arms. Gaz and Soap can’t hide their pink cheeks. “Ah, Laswell has an idea of where the hostages are.” Ghost nods. “Cool, when do we fly out?”

He laughs. “No, you have healing to do and Garrick has to do his yearly physical tomorrow before he can go back out on the field.” Ghost takes a bite of the sandwich he’s eating. Mask still down around his nose. “No way, it’s a broken nose not a cracked femur. I’m fine.”

Ghost laughs. “Captains orders Y/N.”

You groan out.

—

The next day, you’re getting coffee in the mess hall. It’s quiet on base since there’s no one else here. They left a few minutes ago, leaving you alone. Gaz had his physical about an hour ago and sometimes they take a little longer than that. You head back to your room, opening up the door and stepping inside. You close your door behind you. Just as you’re about to raise the cup to your lips, you see Gaz sitting on your bed.

“Oh dear.” You mumble. He laughs. Standing up. “Don’t sound so excited to see me princess.” He smiles. You narrow your eyes. “Do not call me that.”

He raises his hands up in surrender. “Sorry baby, don’t stab me.” He smirks. Seeing your cheeks turn pink. He sits back down, spreading his legs slightly. Leaning back onto his hands. “I swear you look so sexy on the field. Get me so riled up watching you.” He smirks. Resting his hand over his jeans.

You set your cup down, crossing your arms. “What are you doing, Garrick?”

“Gonna finish what I started.” He breathes. He stands up, seeing your eyes rush to the ground. He knows you don’t do too well under pressure. Attention on you makes you nervous. He closes the distance between the two of you and lifts your chin up with his fingers. “You’re so pretty.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Quit bullshitting Kyle, I look like I’ve got too much eye black on.” You laugh. He smiles. “Oh come on. Give yourself a break. You took a fucking hit.”

He moves closer, grasping your thighs and lifting you up, you gasp out as he pushes you back into the wall, his hips pressed up against yours. “Took it like a fucking champ.” He breathes. You can feel how hard he is against you. Not being able to control yourself as you let out a whine as he attacks your neck. He ruts his hips into yours and you gasp out. “Oh fuck-“ you gasp. Clutching onto his shirt. “Gaz…” you breathe. “What if someone hears?” You’re breathless and he gets even harder at the sound of desperation in your voice. “Only others here are training newbies. Nobody will hear baby.” He lowers his head to the crook of your neck, attacking your skin with his lips and teeth. Drawing his tongue over your pulse. You let out a deep breath, feeling him smile into your skin. He steps to the side, and you latch onto him like he’s going to drop you. No longer using the wall as support.

“Relax.” He smiles. “M’not gonna drop you.” He laughs, moving to the edge of the bed and laying you down on it. “You think you can stay quiet for me?” He asks. You look up at him, cheeks blushing. You nod your head. “Good girl.” He lowers himself slightly. Grasping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the small cot with ease. He can hear your heart thumping in your chest from where he’s at. He reaches for your pants. Despite doing nothing you had still at least put on your uniform. He unbuttons them, tugging them down your thighs. Noticing the way you clench your thighs together the moment you’re exposed. You swallow hard. Hearing him chuckle. “You have to trust me.” He takes in a deep breath. Pushing your thighs open slightly. You’ve still got panties on.

You gulp, and his expression changes. He’s not playful anymore, he sees something he wants and he’s going to take it.

He grasps the hem of them, pulling them down your legs and discarding them along with your pants. Moving himself closer. He’s on his knees on the ground, at the edge of the bed. He’s got you pulled right up to the edge of it. Pushing your legs open. You swallow hard, avoiding eye contact with him. A gasp leaves your lips as he kisses down your thigh, moving closer to where you’re exposed to him. “Remember.. try to stay quiet for me.” He looks up at you, seeing you nod your head. He can still hear your heart thumping in your chest. When he kisses your opening your hips jump slightly, but he doesn’t waste a second to draw his tongue up your slit. When he starts to flick his tongue over you, sucking at your clit, your thighs start to shake.

You realize the situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

You grip the sheets, teeth gritted behind tight lips.

“Oh fuck..” your voice is soft and it’s just above a whisper. Low enough to where only he could hear it. He smiles into you. Knowing you like it only eggs him on. He’s hard, throbbing in his jeans. He’s turned on and all he wants to do is bury himself into you. But he knows you’re not ready for that just yet. He needs to open you up first. He keeps lapping at your clit, circling your opening with one of his fingers.

He doesn’t give you too much time to adjust before he’s sliding one of them into you. A gasp gets caught in your throat at the intrusion, how good he’s making you feel. It’s overwhelming and you can already feel it building in your lower stomach.

It approaches slow until he adds a second finger, pumping them into you, still tonguing your clit. Your thighs shake and he can tell you’re getting close. Sending you spiraling right into that sweet release. “Kyle-“ you whine. He laughs at how much your voice has changed. Your apprehension is gone, all that’s left is want. And you fucking want it.

Just when he’s about to give it to you, he pulls away. He can see tears gather at your waterline, frustration clouds your eyes. “If I make you cum, you’ll be too sensitive baby. You’re not ready for it yet.” You nod your head, but you want more. He can tell you’re trying to be patient despite how bad you want it. He stands up and unbuckles his belt. You swallow hard. When he exposes himself to you, you realize it’s going to hurt compared to his fingers. “Relax. You’re ready.” He breathes, moving himself between your legs. He kisses you, teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. You whine into his lips. The thought of him filling you up is like a dream.

He gathers your arousal on his tip and lines himself up with your entrance, pushing into you slow. You take a deep breath. “O-oh god.” You hesitate. It stings as he glides between your walls, stretching you further than you’ve ever been stretched before. You clench your eyes closed, hissing as he moves deeper.

“It’s okay. You’re doing so good.” He breathes. “S-so good for me.”

The tightness of you around him makes him shudder. “Shit.” He whines. You’ve never heard him like this. “You feel so fucking good.” He shakes his head. He’s got his eyes closed too. You wrap your legs around him and force him deeper, his eyes widening. “Shit!” He breathes. “Please-“ you mewl.

“Fuck- I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please just, fuck me.” You look up at him. Eyes full of need. He holds onto your thighs, “just.. try to stay quiet. M’gonna be kinda rough baby.” You nod your head.

He takes a couple slow, deep thrusts. Until you’re shivering. You want more and he’s going to give it to you.

He takes a hard thrust, watching your lips part. Your mouth opens slightly. He raises your hips, sliding a pillow underneath you. He angles your hips up perfectly and when he buries himself into you, he drives himself right into that spot inside of you. You clamp a hand over your own mouth and he can’t help but laugh. He seems to know exactly what it takes to make you feel good. He keeps his bruising pace, giving you exactly what you’ve asked for. Even when he notices tears streaming from your eyes, he keeps going. He pins your wrists above your head, pressing his lips to yours. His tongue moves against yours and he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, and you’re almost a goner. You’re not going to last long.

Your skin is flushed and warm. Your eyes look up at him lazily, you’re in another world as he works his hips into yours. You’re relaxed now, desperate for that high you know is coming quick. You struggle to keep your eyes open, trying hard to stay still but your body twitches as you get closer. Your thighs shake slightly but he keeps them open. You’re milking his cock. Tight and wet around him. He can barely take it, his breathing is starting to get uneven and his thrusts are getting sloppy. You’re both right up to the brink. You prop yourself up onto your elbows, looking up at him. Your eyes are dark, that lustful gaze nearly sends him right into his orgasm. “Kyle…” you breathe. “Y-yeah?”

“Want you to cum in me.” You breathe, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I want to know what it feels like..”

“Shit- you didn’t have to ask.” He pushes you back, resting a bit of his weight on you as he rocks his hips into you. “I’m so close.” You mewl. “I know baby. Can feel you tightening around me.” He growls.

It only takes a couple more thrusts and he can tell by the cry you let out behind your own hand that you’re right there. “That’s right sweetheart, give it to me.” He breathes. “I’m gonna cum too- gonna fill this pretty pussy.” He grits his teeth. You cry out, and he doesn’t care who hears. He can feel you throbbing around him. Last minute, he pushes one of your thighs up, sliding even deeper. He intensifies your orgasm and clamps a hand over your mouth so that nobody can hear your cries. He bites his lip hard as he cums, cock twitching, his body tensing up. It’s by far the hardest he’s ever cum, chills rising up his spine. He relaxes into you. Breathing heavy as he comes down his high. You can hear his heart beating hard in his chest, blush rising up your cheeks at what you’ve just done.

He pulls out of you, zeroing in on the way his filth spills back out of you. He has to fight himself from getting hard again, knowing you’re probably sore. He stands up, adjusting his jeans. He notices the way you get uncomfortable at him redressing himself, probably worried about him leaving. You sit up and make a move to go clean yourself up but he stops you, smiling. “You’re so fucking awkward and it’s so cute.” He laughs. You roll your eyes. He sits down next to you, pinching your chin and turning your head to make you kiss him.

“You gonna leave me hanging hm?” He smiles. “What do you mean?”

“I just.. I didn’t really want this to be a one time thing. You gonna leave me here alone?” He laughs. You look down. “No.. I.. I wouldn’t do that to you I just.. no I didn’t want it to be a one time thing either, I’m sorry if-“ he kisses you again. Gripping your shirt tight in his hands. “Relax sweetheart.” He toys with your collar. “You’re mine and I think I’ve made that clear, right babe?” He smiles. Seeing crimson creep up your cheeks. “Go get cleaned up, I’ll go grab an ice pack for your face yeah?” He breathes. “Maybe we can sneak off base and go get something other than MRE’s to eat.”

“Kyle Garrick you’ve won my heart.” You laugh. “You’re so picky.” He rolls his eyes.

“You said it yourself, MRE’s suck!”

He shakes his head at you, seeing you disappear into the bathroom. He hopes whatever this is, doesn’t end anytime soon.

[manjjiros]

okay but sweet post-juvie kazutora who goes to weekly therapy seeing you for the first time and giving in to his repressed darker impulses. idk i can just see yandere!kazutora so vividly !! stalking and kidnapping you bc he wants you all to himself <3

GROUP THERAPY

kazutora hanemiya x fem!reader

warnings: dark content, yan!kazu, stalker!kazu, implied sex, inaccurate representation of group therapy, manipulation, kidnapping, lying about condom usage, ask to tag

notes: cass this has been in my brain ever since you sent it. about 2.3k.

from the ASM: [he bumps into you as he passes by you in the casino, jumping in fear and dropping a file that had been confiscated from kazutora’s desk. the photos that scattered all over the floor were all… you. they were all of you. the ASM apologizes profusely and scrambles to pick them up.]

the smell of burnt coffee and donuts.

the low hum of old overhead lights, one of them flickering, making it a little hard to see very clearly in the damp basement of the church.

two, then one, then two, then three, then one; people filtered into the basement and sat at each of the chairs that were placed in a circle, though it became more of an oblong shape as one by one people pulled them back to be able to sit in them.

kazutora had gotten there a half hour early, dropped off by his parole officer who told him he would be back to pick him up at seven thirty, sharp. he sat in the stiff chair, hands folded between his knees, eyes drifting dazedly over each person that arrived and took a seat in the circle.

group therapy would help, the parole officer had grunted to him from the driver’s seat, give you a chance to talk to other kids like you. i’ve seen it help others. 

the therapist took a seat two chairs away from kazutora, dragging his attention away from the door for a split second to study him. the guy looked like he was just under thirty, some stereotypically upbeat type. he let out a breath, certain that this place would make him rip his hair out and have another breakdown, until…

you.

you came in in a flurry, worried about the possibility of being late. you carried yourself with the confidence of a small dog, shaking and nervous as you gently closed the heavy doors behind yourself to try and stay under the radar.

it was too late for that. kazutora’s cold, intense gaze followed every tiny step you took towards the circle of people in the center of the room.

your lamblike gaze shifted around nervously for an empty seat, finding none outside of the one directly next to kazutora. he was new to the group, unknown to all of the regular members, and no one wanted to try their luck with a guy who looked like he could be part of a gang. you didn’t have a choice, though, and hurried around the edge of the circle before pulling the chair back to sit with a breath. “sorry, i hope you don’t mind,” you murmured to him.

it felt like his chest was being squeezed. he wanted to eat you alive.

“it’s fine,” he smiled lightly at you, shrugging his shoulders.

you smelled like freshly cut flowers and the summer sun. he wanted to brush that lock of hair over your shoulder to reveal the column of your throat and sink his teeth into your soft skin. what did you taste like? sugar, maybe? were you as sweet as you seemed?

what was your name?

he opened his mouth to ask, but got cut off by the therapist clasping his hands together to get everyone’s attention. he said his name, but kazutora didn’t hear it, nor did he want to. any voice that wasn’t yours should be silenced.

he shook his head to himself and slumped back into his chair. he shouldn’t be thinking like that. those thought processes are what landed him in this shithole anyway, and now he was being forced to sit through these hour-long group sessions to listen to other people complain and whine.

it did bring him to you, though. he supposed it wouldn’t be so bad.

“... and we have a newcomer today, just registered this morning. do you want to introduce yourself?”

kazutora blinked slightly, rejoining the conversation and glancing around. “kazutora hanemiya,” he gave a curt wave, eyes darting over to yours to watch you smile.

“hi kazutora,” everyone in the circle replied, as if it were some kind of alcoholics’ anonymous meeting. maybe it was. maybe he was in the wrong place, it would explain the coffee and the gorgeous girl sitting next to him that he wanted to devour.

“so, kazutora, what brings you in to join us?” the therapist tilted his head, a mild smile on his face.

kazutora hummed softly, shifting in his seat. “i was part of a gang. i’m not anymore. i got caught doing gang stuff.” it was a complete bluff – shinichiro’s blood was still on his hands. it’d been years, but the blood never came off. “theft, mostly.”

he felt himself smile back at the therapist, calm and collected, before turning his sights back on you. you looked timid, shrinking slightly under his gaze before smiling back at him. 

“we’ll get you to open up soon enough. let’s get started, shall we?” the therapist was quick to move on, clearly wanting kazutora to not feel pressured at his first visit, but he didn’t care. he wasn’t impressed or even vaguely interested in what these other pitiful people had to say. it only mattered when you told a recent story of how you held yourself back from stealing an expensive purse when you realized it was missing a security tag.

a kleptomaniac, it seemed that was your only crime. well, technically, it was grand theft, but hey, it was nothing in the long run. something that would be sealed up because you were a kid when you did it. 

kazutora listened to your story as if you were a siren, and he was a lost man at sea, swimming closer and closer to you. he could feel the corners of his mind start to warp as he watched the way your lips curled around your words, enticing him closer. he wanted to feel you, to hold you, to get you that fucking bag you’re talking nonstop about-

the session finished with your story, and it would be a short five minutes until his parole officer would arrive to take him back to his tiny apartment on the outskirts of the district, where no one could reasonably get to him without at least a bike and a semblance of direction.

he watched you stand and make your way to the refreshments, your fingers dancing over the donuts before scooping up a donut hole to take a bite out of it. 

his feet moved before he could stop himself, and soon enough he was at your side, grabbing a tasty, albeit chalky, treat for himself. “good thing they give us some sugar after making us spill our guts like that, right?”

“huh?” you turned to lift your head and look up at him, blinking in surprise at his sudden presence next to you. “oh, yeah, i guess so. today wasn’t so bad. sometimes miki cries, and then we all really need the sugar.”

“that doesn’t sound fun at all.” kazutora stuck his bottom lip out as he chewed on the tasteless donut in his hand. you shrugged. 

“it’s the way of the sessions. helps to make everyone feel seen, or something…” you trailed off before throwing him a smile that made his head spin. “you’re… kazutora, right? sorry, i listened when you said it, but the session felt really long today.”

“that’s right. and you’re y/n.” he pointed at you with his half eaten donut, sprinkles caught on his lips, and you felt yourself start to giggle.

“right. it’s nice to meet you. will you come back next week?”

“have to. it’s part of my-” he thought briefly, mind scrambling. he probably shouldn’t mention juvie, his recent release at eighteen, his real crimes. “-deal with my parents. they told me i had to keep coming if i wanted a roof, y’know?”

“oh, right,” you believed him, falling easily into the idea that he was also just a kleptomaniac, just like you. “my parents were really upset when i got arrested. they got me out on bail, but enrolled me in this program. it’s helped, it’s a good thing.”

kazutora watched the twitch of your lips as you bit down on the rest of the donut hole between your fingers. you weren’t sure.

you shrugged and reached for a napkin to wipe at your lips, the residue of your lip gloss staining it pink as you headed for the stairs leading back up to the main lobby of the church. “well, we’re glad you’ve joined us. we should probably go, they like to give us the coffee and stuff, but if we hang out for too long, they shut the lights off.”

“right,” kazutora nodded his head and followed you out, watching the way your form blended into the shadowy corridors of the stairwell. 

before he knew it, you were gone, disappearing into the back of the church to exit into the back parking lot, and he was sliding easily into the back seat of his parole officer’s car. 

the interaction was brief. far too brief to have even been a hit on your radar. but for kazutora, you had suddenly become a beacon of light, untainted by the blood on his hands. 

he needed to know everything. he needed you.

in two month’s time, kazutora had worked himself into a point of almost-high status amongst the other delinquents in the group. he could play into his charm, he could play into being just a petty little thief who got caught up in the wrong crowd. the tokyo manji gang made me do it, he would say, crocodile tears dripping down his cheeks, i wanted to be just like mikey, but… he was someone no one else should be like. 

you had rubbed his back that day, and it felt like his entire body had been lit on fire. he pumped his cock holding his shirt to his nose that night in bed, convincing himself he could still smell your lavender lotion on the fabric as he imagined it was you on top of him. 

in two month’s time, kazutora had learned every single thing he possibly could about you. your name, age, your childhood home, how you walked to your college campus, the routes you alternated between to be safe. he loved to watch you browse in the high-end stores between classes, walking into the luxury districts and perusing the items you knew you could pocket but told yourself not to. he knew that soon enough he would be the one using blood soaked sticky fingers to get you whatever your little heart craved.

you wanted luxury? he could get luxury. you wanted someone stable, someone loving, someone to fill the void your dear old dad left? he knew about that too, of course, and he could fix it all.

in his head, you had become an angel, someone he craved to corrupt and ruin only for himself. the longer you kept yourself away from your human depravities, the more kazutora craved you.

two months was more than enough time to get in your good graces, to be considered a friend, someone to rely on, someone to trust. and trust him you did, giving him your phone number and letting him start to infiltrate your life outside of therapy sessions together.

you put your faith into the reformed criminal who had barely washed his hands after the crime, the blood and grime still caked under his fingernails as he rode up to you on his bike and offered you a lift to a nearby cafe after your last class. 

“funny seeing you around here, kazu! i didn’t know you liked to ride around here.” you giggled as you climbed onto the back, wrapping your arms around him.

“normally i don’t, but i guess it was just fate to bump into you here.” he smiled at you over his shoulder before bringing you to the cafe he knew you liked, the one where he got his favorite photo of you chewing on a strawberry pastry with the cutest smile on your lips.

he wouldn’t sleep unless he saw that smile on your face up close and in person, and as he offered to get you whatever you wanted and you asked for just that pastry, he knew his wish would come true. 

your little excursion with kazutora was fun. he was so sweet, so kind to you, reaching across the table with a napkin to dab at your cheek when some of the flaky pastry stuck to your skin. it made your cheeks feel warm, your eyes linger on his mouth. 

it didn’t take him long to offer you a ride back to his place, to check out his new living quarters that his ‘parents’ were helping him pay for. 

you accepted, like a lamb to the slaughterhouse, consenting to your own kidnapping as he drove you both home for the very first time.

he led you upstairs and into the small apartment, letting you in first before closing and locking the door behind himself. the place was small, well-kept, tidy. it was just a small one-bedroom, but enough for two people. 

kazutora was charming. kazutora was kind. kazutora had eyes that turned into deep black pools when he looked at you, when his hands landed on your waist and his teeth sunk into your skin. kazutora was a gentleman, getting you off on his tongue before sinking his cock into your tight heat.

kazutora cared about you. he definitely had a condom on, you heard him fumble with the wrapper. kazutora didn’t make your shoulder bleed when he bit you too hard, you had been overwhelmed with pleasure and had gotten confused.

kazutora. kazutora. kazutora. 

you thought only of him as you drifted to sleep in his bed, just for a short nap, you had murmured. you thought only of him as you felt something cold and a bit heavy snap around your ankle.

you had stepped on a bear trap without even knowing it, and now it had its rusty, bloodied teeth sunk deep into your flesh and muscle and bone. 

kazutora would be your everything, whether you liked it or not. he had made sure of that. at least you would have the best bags his fingers could grab, right?

[wintervalewritersecond]

inhaler - rowan laslow

masterlist

requested: yes! requests: open! hello could you do a rowan/reader request where maybe rowan and the reader have been dating for a while but he’s hidden his asthma from her bc he’s afraid of her thinking that he’s too much/bc he’s been bullied for it in the past until he has an asthma attack while on a date or something? & then the reader tells him that she would never leave him bc of something like that? thank you so much! i love your rowan fics! 🌸❤️

and

hii! i absolutely LOVED your fic with rowan and witchy reader. if you can could you make another fic like that one? it was amazing and i just really love rowan, i dont have a specific plot in mind so be creative with it please!🫶🏻🫶🏻

A/N: thank you so much! rowan is one of, if not, my favorite &lt;;33 i also made it a witch reader again because i think witchcraft is super interesting! i hope you like it &lt;3

wordcount: 2.492 warnings: she/her reader, asthma attack, probably incorrect information about asthma and witchcraft

Rowan has been your boyfriend for months. What you don't know, is that he has been hiding a rather big secret.

The class was, as always, not too interesting to you. The plants that miss Thornhill showed off are stunning, but there is a better way to spend your time. You twist your pen between your fingers, your head resting on the palm of your hand. You hear paper ripping as a hand slowly slides something toward you.

This catches your attention. You look down at the paper and the side from which it came. Rowan looks at you with a smile, nodding to the piece of paper that you are now holding.

'Read it,' he mouthes.

After carefully unfolding the lined paper, you see what it says. Nightshade library after school? Your smile gets bigger as you turn the piece of paper around, scribbling a ton of hearts and a big 'YES!' on it before discreetly moving it back to Rowan's desk.

You had been dating him for a while now - almost two years. Actually, one year and ten months. Not that you had been counting. You joined the Nightshades soon after you showed up at Nevermore as you were quick to befriend Bianca and Davina. The library is the very place where you first met Rowan. He was making some homework and flipping through a book as you descended the stairs. First, he quickly scrambled to get his stuff to get out, but you were quick to assure him that he should stay to finish his work. Besides, you had to make some work yourself.

Bianca first raised an eyebrow when you told her you liked Rowan. She has never been too fond of him, not even sure as to why he was in the Nightshades, but she didn't mind. If anything, she helped you get a bit closer to him. Pairing you together during fencing, or asking Rowan to help you out with homework.

It worked.

So now you had a loving boyfriend who was everything you could have ever wanted and much more. Rowan truly is someone you could only dream of. You would wake up with a neatly written note on your bedside, or a bouquet of handpicked flowers. He even carried around a crystal in his pocket and a small box of matches in his bag. Just in case you needed it.

"So, I would love to see everyone's work on Monday! Enjoy your weekend, guys."

You quickly close your books as you place them in your bag, zipping them closed before slinging them over your shoulder. Rowan looks down at you with a smile, one eyebrow raised.

"So, what are you going to do for the homework?"

He noticed you weren't paying attention. You roll your eyes, laughing as you softly elbow him in the side before taking hold of his hands. A laugh escapes his lips as the two of you walk out of the classroom.

"I wrote it down for you, no worry."

Rowan leads you to the small, hidden hall. In front of you is the Edgar Allan Poe statue. To most of the school, it was just a random statue of one of the most famous Nevermore students. But you know what lies behind. Two snaps are all it takes for the statue to move and for you to be able to enter the hidden library.

You spend a lot of time here, especially with Rowan. Normally, the Nightshades only come in here for mocktail parties or emergencies, but you liked being in the library. The dusty books, the silence, the dim lights. The shared hugs, kisses, and occasional make-out sessions with Rowan. Hidden in a corner is also a chest filled with some drinks, snacks, and ingredients for your spells.

The homework could wait. You have two full days to finish it - all you want to do is relax with Rowan.

"Wow, we really have to clean this place up soon," Rowan awkwardly laughs, shrugging off his jacket before rolling up his sleeves.

The amount of dust that lies on the books makes him slightly nervous. He can already feel the itching in his throat and the tightness in his chest. Not now. Please.

He looks over at you, but you seem too focused on his arms. He never really showed them off - he would always neatly wear his uniform or zip-up hoodies. The watch around his wrist was also always worn as Rowan might be the most punctual person you ever met.

"Hm," you hum, agreeing with him. "I can do that. I think we're the only ones who really mind the dust."

You know that Rowan likes to have everything neat and clean. His clothes, his room, his hair. He likes being organized and having everything cleaned. At least, that is the part you know. The other part is that he likes having clean sheets and a dustless room because Rowan is scared of having an asthma attack.

He has had them ever since he was a kid, but it never got easier. He is always scared that he might run out of puffs, but most of all, he is scared that you will find out he even has asthma.

"Well," you nod. "I have a couple of spells that I want to perform. Is it okay if I do it here?"

"Yeah," Rowan immediately smiles. "Of course."

You skip over to the chest, opening it before grabbing some things. You have to wipe some dust off of the chest, the particles making you sneeze.

"Okay, I am definitely cleaning this tomorrow."

Rowan lets out a chuckle as he sits down on one of the chairs, taking a book out of his bag before opening it on the page where he last left off. In the meanwhile, you had laid out everything on the table, making sure to organize everything based on spells. You had a thick journal that had every spell you wanted to perform or have performed before.

A match gets lit as multiple candles get lit, making Rowan a bit more nervous. The dust, webs, candles - a recipe for disaster. But, as long as he just takes deep breaths, he should be fine. It is quiet in the library for a little bit. The flipping of a page, the lighting of a match, the crushing of a bay leaf.

The boy his throat starts itching more and more as he tries to get rid of the feeling by clearing his throat. It doesn't do a lot though, except for catching your attention after a few poor attempts.

"Here," you hold out your water bottle to him with a smile.

He gratefully takes it, unscrewing the top before taking small sips. Please, let the water work.

It doesn't.

The bottle gets placed back on the table as he whispers a thank you. He is too scared to speak up - if he starts coughing, it is over. Rowan picks up his book again, trying to focus on his book, but it almost seems like the letters are dancing. His focus is gone as he tries not to cough or wheeze.

His heart slowly beats faster and faster as he breathes in and out a bit faster as well. He slowly reaches for his jacket which hangs over the chair, trying to get his inhaler.

"And voila!"

You hold up the small, sealed bottle with a big grin. A mix of herbs, crystals, and moon water sat inside as the top was sealed with candle wax. Rowan quickly pulls his hand back, shooting you a smile.

You blow out the candle, letting out a sigh. The jar was mainly for focus - something you quite lacked the last few days.

As you wrote down the recipe and effects of the jar in your journal, Rowan was busy trying to slow down his breathing as the smoke from the candle gets closer and closer to him.

His chest feels tighter and he feels like saying one word will make him pass out. To be honest, it might. A cough leaves his lips, followed by many more.

"Rowan? Are you okay?" You look at him with your eyebrows creased as you get closer to him, resting your hand on his knee.

You were sat on the floor as he sat in the chair. Rowan tries to nod as he tries to shrug it all off, but the coughing only gets worse. His breathing sounds uneven and wheezy as he clutches his chest.

Shit, shit, shit.

The feeling of tightness only gets worse as his breathing gets faster and more shallow. He barely even sees you sitting in front of him as he is too focused on trying to get any oxygen in his lungs.

"Rowan?"

You sit in between his legs, holding his face in your hands.

"Rowan? What's going on?"

You are really stressed now. He almost seems unresponsive as one hand is wrapped tightly around your wrist. With his other, he tries to point to his jacket. You are confused for a second - he seems to be dying, and he wants his jacket? You quickly crawl over to the jacket, patting the pockets before pulling out the object. A blue... thing? You have no idea what to do with it, but now is not the time to ask questions.

You quickly hand the device to Rowan as he raises it to his mouth, pushing the top of the inhaler to get a puff of medicine into his body. After repeating the action multiple times, his body finally relaxes. His muscles are not tensed anymore, though his eyes now sting with tears falling down his cheeks.

"Rowan?" You whisper. "Let's get you to the infirmary, okay?"

He only nods, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this. He is supposed to be there for you - be your hero, be your protector. Not only that, but now he is actually sure that you will leave him. It is a fear he had before, but this confirmed it. If he had been bullied for it before, he will be bullied for it now.

The walk to the infirmary is quiet. The books and spell jars are long abandoned in the library, though it is not even on your mind. You were so scared, so worried for Rowan. You had no clue on what was going on, and all you can focus on is that he is fine.

"All right," the infirmary assistant nods, removing the blood pressure machine from Rowan's arm. "Nothing bad is going on. You know the drill - lot's of rest!"

She smiles at both you and Rowan before handing the boy an orange device, very similar to the one he had before. You thank the lady before leading Rowan back to his room. He still had not said a word to you, his eyes and cheeks still red from the stray tears and lack of oxygen.

You made sure that Rowan had changed into some type of pajama before softly pushing him onto the mattress, laying the blankets on top of his legs.

"Do you want anything from the cafeteria? I can go down and grab you dinner?"

He shakes his head. He doesn't want you to leave. He knows that you will, but he just wants to keep you here as long as you can. Just before you find out.

It is quiet for a minute as you sit on the end of his bed, looking at your boyfriend. He is fiddling with the hem of the blanket, nervously looking around the room.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers.

You look up, furrowed brows.

"Sorry for what?"

"The asthma attack," he speaks even softer than before. He is so scared to lose you that his eyes tear up yet again. "I-I really can't help it. I tried to stop it, but all the dust and smoke got to me. Normally I am on time with medicine, I really tried to not burden you with it, but-"

"Hey," you mumble, scooting closer to him as you softly hold his hand. "You're okay."

He softly shakes his head, looking up at you through his lashes. The sight of him with his teary eyes makes your heart ache as you place your other hand on his cheek.

"I don't think you could be a burden even if you tried, Rowan."

He sniffles as he softly leans into your touch, his long eyelashes sticking together because of the tears.

"You're leaving, aren't you?"

It is something he should have expected. The outcast in a school full of outcasts. To expect something as perfect as you is outrageous and he should have known-

"Leave you? God, Rowan, I will never leave your side ever again," you furrow your eyebrows. "You scared me to death today. I need to be there in case it ever happens again."

"You're not leaving?"

Your heart breaks up into a million pieces as you scoot even closer to him, pulling him into a hug as you run your hands over his back.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He slowly nods, his arms tightly wrapping around your frame as he buries his face into your neck. He feels so, so tired. His arms and legs are shaking and he feels like he just ran a marathon. Mentally, he feels like shit as well. He had tried to hide this from you for so long, and now he still burdened you with it.

You notice his silence as you play with his hair, the boy still in your arms.

"I will never leave you, Rowan," you whisper in his ear. "You are my world."

"I'm not too much?"

The tone of his voice sounds relieved, though still unsure.

"Never. Too hot, maybe. Too much? Never."

This gets a soft laugh out of him as he sniffs again, softly pulling back before wiping his eyes. You press a kiss on his forehead as you smile at him.

"Movie?"

-

Ever since that moment, you have avoided candles in small, confined spaces. Rowan insisted that you didn't have to put your spells on hold every time he would come over to your room, but you insisted that they could wait. Rowan is more important to you than any spell could ever be.

Your bag now also had a designated spot for an extra inhaler. You carried it everywhere - the Weathervane, school, the woods, Jericho. You did not go anywhere without the inhaler.

It gave Rowan a piece of mind. With or without his asthma, you still accepted him. You didn't call him names, stepped on his inhaler, or insulted him. Though he is still anxious that you will leave him, his thoughts are calmed down each time he sees you smile at him. You hold his hands as you kiss his knuckles, you play with his hair as his head lies in your lap.

You are his peace, as he is yours.

[jellyfishoreo1206]

Comfort (Aku Punk)

WARNINGS: STALKING (NOT FROM YOU OR AKU) CUSSING, AKU TRYING HIS BEST, BLOOD, CRYING, SMALL BIT OF VIOLENCE

NOTE: Sorry for the slow delay! School is becoming a pain in the ass rn. I closed requests as of now, bc I still got LOTS of other WIP's to do, but I'm slowly getting through to them. Hope you guys understand ^^

----

You didn't know what happened, everything just seemed to have been blocked out in the moment. One second you were walking down the street, the next you were breathing rapidly as you ran down the streets of LA, constantly nearly eating shit because of the uneven sidewalk.

You ran. You ran all the way back to your apartment, looking over your shoulder every few seconds, straining your eyes to see if anyone was following. You made sure to go through the more populated places of the city, hoping you'd lose whoever was following you.

You've seen their face almost everywhere, even in the complex! You merely thought they were a neighbor and it was a coincidence that you were seeing them everywhere you go. But that wasn't the case at all. It should have been a red flag that you literally saw them trailing you when you decided to go out whenever.

Everything was dizzy, the whole world was spinning around you. You didn't know what happened, it was all so fast.

The sight of your apartment was in sight, right ahead of you. It was only a few blocks away, but it just seemed to far. You urged your legs to keep running, despite them becoming wobbly from how long you've been going for. Climbing up the stairs, nearly tripping on almost all the steps, and nearly falling down them too.

The door was in an arms reach, locked.

You fumbled for your key, constantly looking all around you as you struggled to put it in the hole, breathing rapidly. A click was heard, immediately pushing it open and slamming the door closed, locking it immediately and putting in the chain with violently shaky hands.

Your whole entire body was shaking, from the amount of running you did, from the adrenaline and the absolute fear. The situation of everything finally weighed down on you, tears coming to your eyes as you scrambled towards your bedroom, pulling your your phone out as you closed all curtains that were open on the way.

Dialling the first number your jumbled mind could think of, you brang the phone up to your ear, sliding down against the wall as you counted the rings.

Ring...

Ring...

Ring...

"Yeah wha–?"

"S-ome–" Your throat was closing up on you, your mouth gaping open like a fish out of water, trying to choke out words that stuck to the back of your throat, "someo-one's be–en following me.." Tears streamed down your face as you held the phone to your ear, knuckles turning white from the grip you have on it. Hiccups kept interrupting your words, you weren't even sure he even understood it in any way.

Silence was heard on his end, you could hear the quiet shuffling of footsteps and distant talking of people in the background. It was uncomfortable to say the least, your uneven breathing and the soft hiccups you let out as you hugged your legs close to your body.

He finally responded after a few seconds, his tone was unreadable but it was firm, "Where are you now?"

"My apar–tment.."

"I'm on my way." He hung up without letting you get another word in. You wished he stayed on the line for a bit longer, to at least comfort you in a way. Though he gets like that and freezes up a bit, it didn't matter to you, his presence by itself brought you comfort.

A knocking from the front door made your whole entire body freeze. You held your breath to make sure you weren't hearing things, hoping it was just something your jumbled mind misheard.

Several seconds go by..

Knock knock knock

It was more faster this time, harsher. No way did he get here that fast, his work is literally 10 minutes away and you literally just got off the phone with him. The knocking kept going, and going, until it was literally banging and it sounded like the person on the other side was actually trying to break down your door.

Your breathing picks up, more tears rushing down the curve of your cheeks as everything tangled up in your mind. Curling up was all you could even do, hugging your legs even closer to yourself as the knocking got louder and louder. An attempt to muffle the noises, your hands covered your ears, pressing them against the sides of your head to block out the sound.

It didn't help though.

All you could hear was the rapid beating of your heart and the uneven breathes coming from your mouth. Everything was spiraling all around you, becoming blurred together as you began to see black dots appearing in your vision, your throat closing up again.

----

'fuck fuck fuck FUCK'

It was the only thing racing through his mind as he drove another red light, barely moving his foot from the gas pedal. He didn't care that he broken several laws of the road, didn't care if there was any police officers chasing after him (which they probably are, he didn't bother checking the mirrors).

All that mattered was them.

A few strands of his hair fell out of his ponytail, slightly covering his left eye, obscuring his view of the road. He didn't bother to move it behind his eye, being used to it there anyway.

With the apartment in his sights, he pressed against the gas even more as he zooms into the parking lot, not even bothered to park it correctly as he stumbled out of the car. Rushing up the stairs, he hears banging against something. The closer he got to your apartment, the louder it became.

Until he was finally a few doors from your apartment, he finally saw the source of the pounding. He didn't bother to study the details of the imbecile, his body moving before his mind could catch up.

Reeling his fist back, he threw a punch into the person's ribcage, with enough force to knock them down to the floor as they let out a wheeze from the air being knocked out of their lungs. He may seem like a scrawny guy to others, but he knows how to throw a good few punches. They tried to get up, an attempt to scramble away from the redhead, only for it to be in vein as he kicks them in the stomach. Possibly some internal bleeding. But that's what they deserve.

Crouching down to their level, he grabs them by the hair, making eye contact with them as he scowls at them in absolute disgust.

"You messed with the wrong person, you fucker."

With a final punch he aims it at their nose, screams of pain coming out of their mouth as he lets go of them, their head dropping. Watching them curl up into a fetal position as they cradle their broken nose, blood dripping in-between their fingers as he watches in satisfaction.

Pulling out his phone, he sends a text to one of the other people in the organization, standing there as he waits for a response back. Knowing how people don't bother to learn their lesson, he might as well make some use of the garbage for something else.

----

The sudden silence unnerved you to no ends. You were still in your room, hands over your ears as he took deep breaths to calm yourself. You didn't even notice the knocking have stopped until a few seconds ago. Putting your hands down, you strain your hearing for anything else from outside.

Only the passing cars and honks from outside.

Getting up from the floor, you slowly walked out of your room, wiping the tears from your eyes as you walked to the front door. You intended to look into the peephole to see if they were still outside, waiting. A shiver crept up your spine at the thought. You hope to whatever the hell is up there that he got here and dealt with the person.

Though what you weren't expecting was to see your boyfriend on the couch, his hair a total mess, and his whole body relaxed. One of his legs were propped up on the couch while the other one was still firmly on the ground, the rest of his body laid down as he had one of his hands up in the air, wrist limp as he keeps it up in there. Sometimes he would swing it back and forth a little bit.

"Babe? Wh-when did you get here?" Speaking hurts a bit, throat still closing up a little as you let the words out. His head moved towards your direction, a smile coming onto his face as they land on you.

He doesn't say a word, only sitting up a bit as he opens his arms, an indication for hugs. Without hesitation, you jump into him, curling your arms around him tightly as you shove your face into his neck. Pulling you closer, he uses one of his hands to gently comb through your hair. You noticed that he was still in his work uniform, the discarded gloves on the couch arm, and the hazardly thrown keys on the ground.

That didn't matter though, you thought as you closed your eyes. You're just glad he was here now..

----

"Hey Bubo,"

"Yes, Aku Punk?"

"You mind if we keep this one awake?" Bubo gave him a quizzical look underneath the mask, a strange question for his lab partner to ask.

"Is..Is there a specific reason why?"

"Yeah." Aku says casually, preparing his serums and tools for the experiment about to happen. He knows he won't give him anything more than that, no matter how much he might ask. Though last time he did that, he nearly got a needle stabbed into his eye..

Bubo shivers at the thought, it merely happened around the time he started too. So clueless he was back then. He studied his lab partner's body language for anything particular, anything that might give him a clue on why he asked something like that. Or maybe he might've drank another of those serums again..

"I mean, I guess?"

"Cool beanz. So," He claps his hands together, the spandex of his gloves making it sound louder in the nearly empty room, "-mind handing me those blueprints so I have an idea of what we're doing?" A mischievous grin creeps up his face, eyes slowly moving towards the operating table where a person laid.

Wordlessly, Bubo hands him a rolled up paper, pulling up his gloves a bit before straighten out his back. Picking up a scalpel, he turns towards the person, as he sees signs of them waking up already, slowly but surely.

Aku Punk got his revenge in the end. And did he enjoy every. Single. Moment.

[i4sgwr]

NOT SO FAST NOW

ꕤ characters: Eren, Armin, Connie

ꕤ summary: Speed limits are just suggestions, right? (aka: the boys get pulled over for speeding)

ꕤ warnings: gn!reader bc nothing implies anything else, police officer!reader, modern/street racer au, bullet point format + tiny blurbs, idk the specifics of getting pulled over so bear with me

. . . requested by anon! i hope this isn't like, bad (?). i didn't want it to be super long, and it's probably a little ooc but i suppose that's my specialty

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!

EREN JAEGER

you knew exactly what was happening as soon as you saw his car zoom by, followed by another. you had been hanging out in your car waiting for him, actually. it’s been said that this area got a lot of racers and of course, you’d be put in charge of catching them.

you flip your lights on and make the trip in the direction of the car you were after, surprisingly catching it just as the race presumably ended.

you see everyone scrambling to leave the area as you approach, but you got to the main culprit just in the nick of time.

“There a problem, officer?”

The brunette in the driver seat gives you a knowing smirk, one you’ve seen one too many times and didn’t have the patience to deal with. Still, you go through the necessary motions.

“Do you know how fast you were going?”

He rolls his eyes with a chuckle, “I do. It was intentional.”

You huff, irritated. What a smartass.

“I’m inclined to give you a ticket, sir,” you state, flatly.

“Awe don’t be like that,” he teases, “We were just having some fun. Can’t you let me off the hook just this once?”

You knew you shouldn’t, and quite frankly you weren’t supposed to. But he said this was the first time he ever got caught — to be fair, you didn’t really believe him, but it was late and you were getting nowhere with him anyway. So you let him off with a warning, to which he responded,

“Make sure you’re the one to pull me over next time.”

As much as you didn't want to be the one to do the job next time, you couldn't seem to get the scenario out of your head. Perhaps he left you with something to think about — unintentionally charming you without even trying.

ARMIN ARLERT

Armin only recently got into racing, after enough convincing from the other guys. he actually enjoyed it though, and genuinely looked forward to his first proper race

it was thrilling — speeding down the empty street with the anticipation of reaching the end first. it was thrilling up until you showed up though.

Armin was immediately taken aback, slightly disappointed in himself as well, knowing this was a more than likely outcome.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde blurts out, before you’re given the chance to speak, "I guess I got a little carried away."

"A little?" you scoff, though you chuckle lightheartedly after, "You shouldn't be racing out here, y'know."

"I know," he sighs.

He had a kind look in his eyes, as if he had no ill intent. You knew he didn't, still, that didn't justify his actions. You should've given him a ticket, yet you were feeling kind tonight.

"How about I let you off with a warning?" you suggest, leaning down to be eye level with him, "I just can't promise you'll get away with it next time, if I'm not the one to catch you."

His eyes widen a bit, like he wasn't expecting you to spare him. He's quick to turn his shock into gratitude.

"O-okay, thank you," he says with a nod.

"Pass the message on to your friends too, alright? Have a good night."

You give him a polite smile, one he returns before you part ways. Armin was admittedly shaken up after his interaction with you — not like you could blame him, he was convinced he'd be leaving with a ticket. And yet he didn't. He was grateful, honestly. God forbid he gets in trouble again, he wouldn't mind too much if it were you to catch him.

CONNIE SPRINGER

Connie knew all too well that he'd probably get pulled over but he didn't really care. he enjoyed racing, it was fun. it wouldn't be an ideal way to end the night to leave with a ticket though, so he still hoped he could get away with it.

he ends up winning the race, shockingly. his adrenaline was through the roof, but his excitement quickly became anxiety when he saw the lights of your car coming.

Connie remains in his car, waiting for you to scold him just like he had anticipated.

You say all you need to, asking him about his speed even though you knew he was aware of it. He simply gives you a run down of the situation, explaining the reason he was driving so fast even though you already knew why. But then, he started to blabber on about why you shouldn't give him a ticket.

"Sir, what kind of person do you take me for?" you cock an eyebrow, amused.

"You seem nice enough," he starts, "You're pretty cute too. You really gonna stress over a speeding ticket when you could be doing something better?"

"This is my job," you state flatly, "You're lucky I'm even making conversation with you."

"I wouldn't mind rescheduling this conversation," he smirks, as if he were implying something.

You roll your eyes, already getting ready to write his ticket. He quickly apologizes, hoping to get out of this despite the situation not looking good. Instead of a ticket, though, you hand him a note with your number on it.

"Don't let me catch you again. You owe me for letting you get off easy."

taglist! [ @bleubrri @discordkittenjoestar @erwnsmith @bunnyyamor @ofallthingswhythis @arlertwitch @thatonerandomsimpinthecorner @prblmtic ]

[vamossainz55]

Moonlight Ch. 3 | Carlos Sainz Jr. x Reader

a/n hey guys!!! here's chapter 3. i am literally blown away with the attention and the comments that both chapter 1 and chapter 2 got and i am honestly so so touched?? this chapter is a bit shorter than chapter 2 but we finally get reader x carlos interaction that is not just 2-3 words + carlando so i hope it's worth every word hehe. i am really excited bc i think i'm also getting more clarity where i want this to go and i can't wait to get more written out. as always constructive criticism is always appreciated !! and enjoy <3

warnings: none really? just angsty and a bit of mean carlos and mean reader but everybody's quite emotional in this chapter. a lot is going around.

summary: carlos has a little chat with lando about what's going on and he finally confronts you

Link to chapter 2 / all chapters / my masterlist

Chapter Three (3.2k words)

Carlos’ mind is spinning. He’s sat at the main table of course, next to Zak and Lando with Andreas too. Zak and Andreas are talking about some development that they are planning with management, but Carlos’ eyes are fixated on his cup, fingers slowly toying and tracing the rim of it as he plays the memory in his head over and over again. 

The moment his eyes had landed on you he froze, mind going empty as he scrambled to think of any possible thing. As selfish or conceited it would sound- he really thought he would never have to see you again. Sure- you guys hadn’t broken up because of a big fall out or anything, but it had gotten a bit messy at the end of it. Because of that, the day Carlos had walked away from you he really thought that would be it. 

Zak had been able to snap him out of the trance by asking if you both knew each other but before he could go and answer you had beat him to it. Why did you lie? He thinks to himself.

No- no we don’t. Your voice echoes in his head and he can’t help but to take a sharp breath, instantly sitting up and raising his head from the glass to snap himself out of it. As he does this he feels eyes on him and he realizes Lando is staring at him. “You good there mate?” Lando asks and Carlos simply nods, tapping his finger against the side of the cup as he scans over the room. 

“Mhm yeah. Just tired I think.” He says eyes settling at your table, he tries avoiding it but his eyes are searching for you every once in a while and he can’t bring himself to stop. Lando doesn’t look like he believes him much and he follows Carlos’ gaze to look over at your table as well. He faintly remembers Zak joking about Carlos having a crush on the new intern. Haven’t ever seen you speechless like that. He had laughed, slapping Carlos’ shoulder in a way that even made Lando wince. Carlos laughed it off, but there was a flash of annoyance in his eyes that made Lando twist his brows slightly. 

“Hey, what was all of that with Zak and your engineering team?” Lando asks, looking over the people at the table. He had met Tom already and a few others there, but he could spot three or four newbies. “Did they give you a bad vibe or something?” Lando asks but by the time he looks at Carlos the Spanish driver has his head down again, looking at his glass. Lando notices you looking over at them but the moment your eyes cross you quickly duck away too. Were you the one Zak had joked about? 

The rest of the evening Carlos is distracted, and to everyone’s demise a distracted Carlos only meant a distracted Lando. The younger driver always fixated on Carlos and depended on him when talking with sponsors and bantering with the team. It’s not like he wasn’t capable of handling himself, but Lando had admiration for the older guy. He was experienced and carried himself with a serious demeanor that Lando tried to mimic. On the other hand, Lando managed to loosen up Carlos and bring up the child-like part of him that created a dynamic for the team. 

Because of this, when Carlos was off, it threw Lando off too creating a completely different dynamic. Zak had given his usual pep talk speech, thanking the team and welcoming the new joiners for the upcoming season they were going to have because the team looked solid. It wasn’t like they were going to be the most competitive car but it was going in the right direction. Soon he was calling Carlos up for him to have a little talk and Carlos still looked just as dazed as he did earlier which made Lando nervous too. 

“Um, well hey.” Carlos says a bit nervously, swallowing thickly as he brings the mic a bit closer to his mouth. He can feel all eyes on him and he usually doesn’t mind but the one person he was looking at was not looking back at him. “It’s amazing to see and meet all the new joiners and also amazing to see the whole team that’s worked so far on the amazing project. I was really excited when I got the offer for McLaren, and I’ve only got even more excited to get the next season started,” His sentence slows down as you lift your head up to look at him and he doesn’t know if this is better or worse. You don’t look away and his words are getting caught in his throat. The silence is loud but he can’t seem to get himself to speak, even when you look away, probably realizing you’re the reason he grew quiet. 

He only snaps out of it when Lando gets up too, with a mic Zak had sneakily given him. “Um. Hi everyone. I think we just want to thank the team so far for all the hard work everyone’s put in.” He says, discreetly giving Carlos a nudge. Carlos simply nods, clearing his throat a bit. “And we are so excited to welcome the new and amazing members. We’re going to do amazing together.” Lando follows up and Carlos nods, muttering a thank you and making a quick joke about how he had spent too much time in the simulator and that his brain was fried followed with a forced laugh but it seems to fool everyone in the room. Almost everyone at least. They laugh back though and the tension is quickly forgotten and the two drivers slowly sit down. Carlos apologizes sheepishly but everyone brushes it off easily. 

“Thanks Lando.” Carlos says sincerely because fuck, what just happened? He gives Lando a side smile and with the way Lando says it’s fine, as long as we are still up for golf? Carlos knows that this was probably not going to be the end of it. 

The itch that Carlos had was right because it isn’t the end of the conversation at all. Lando finally takes up Carlos’ offer to learn golf and they both head to a driving range early in the morning after having breakfast together. Carlos wonders for a bit about the change in Lando’s heart but he realizes the younger boy has hidden intentions when your name suddenly gets brought up mid-conversation. It catches him off-guard as he almost loses the golf club after swinging it. 

“Mierda,” he curses, catching the club as soon as he can and Lando is already ducking and covering his head, looking absolutely terrified for his life. “Sorry.” Carlos apologizes, looking at him and sighing. “What about y/n?” He asks, already uncomfortable to hear that Lando already knew your name. He definitely hadn’t been the one to tell him.��

“Is she the reason you’ve been off?” Lando asks, leaning onto the golf club as Carlos looks across the field. There’s a brief moment of silence, only soft sounds of the others at the driving range hitting their golf balls. It’s almost therapeutic really, the sound tickles a part of Carlos’ brain and provides a comforting feeling in his chest. 

“No.” he lies, looking over at Lando. It’s clear that the British driver doesn’t believe him, but he frankly does not care. He doesn’t understand why he needs to have the conversation at all. “How do you know her name anyways?” Carlos asks, slowly preparing himself to try for another swing. His legs spread a little and he fixes his posture. 

“I talked to her yesterday,” and fuck Carlos almost misses again and his wrist moves in a weird way that causes a pain to shoot up his arm. He lets out a hiss and drops the golf club, seeing Lando now standing with his arms crossed over his chest and an unimpressed look on his face. “Seriously?” Lando asks, “So you both know each other? Because she said you didn’t.” Lando says and Carlos looks at him, trying to understand when Lando had the time to sneak behind his back and practically stab him (was he being dramatic? maybe). 

“Yeah she’s been saying that.” Carlos says, and he leans the club against the wall with a sigh. It was clear that Lando wasn’t going to let this one go and at this point he could end up beheaded if Carlos continued to play. He stretches his arm a bit in hopes to loosen up a bit of the residual pain from the missed swing. 

“So what? Did you guys use to mess around or something?” Lando asks and wow, straight to the point. Carlos rolls his eyes, cracking his knuckles as he looks across the field and seeing the golf balls flying across from all the other people actually hitting them. It's not him to avoid eye contact but he can’t help it, he can’t shake off the nerves that come up from you being brought into the conversation. 

“You could say so.” He settles, looking over at Lando. Lando’s looking at him with his investigative face and Carlos can tell that he’s trying to link all the pieces together. It’s surprising how fast it happens, and if it weren’t to Carlos’ expense he would’ve given Lando a pat on the back. 

“She’s your ex? The one you dated a while back? Weren’t you best friends?” Lando asks. There’s a mixture of surprise and cockiness to his question, and it's clear that he doesn’t need an answer to confirm his statement so Carlos decides to stay mum, simply staring back at Lando. “That’s rough.” He says and Carlos lets out a snort. 

“That’s rough? Really? That’s it?” He laughs and the tension in his body suddenly dissipates. It amazed him how Lando could relax him so easily without even trying. 

“I mean, she’s pretty, congrats?” Lando says, and it’s clear that the younger lad probably didn’t think he was going to get this far and Carlos shakes his head with a smile. 

“Yeah, yeah. She is.” Carlos says absentmindedly, “We haven’t talked in ages though so it caught me off guard to see her.” Carlos admits and he can already feel his stomach twisting at the thought of having to see you again. “She should’ve told me she was going to join McLaren. It annoyed me a bit that she didn’t but acting like we’ve never met?” Carlos murmurs and gives Lando a sheepish smile when Lando pats him on the back. 

-------

You both manage to miss each other for the next few weeks. Carlos is mainly working on the simulator with Lando and whenever he talks with Tom you’re nowhere to be seen. He tries his best to push you to the back of his mind but it’s still slightly nipping at him the more the days pass. He finds himself looking around the room for you every time he walks in and he can never  tell whether he’s slightly disappointed or relieved to not see you anywhere. A part of him wants to ask Tom where you are but he stops himself from doing so because that would be too obvious. At some point it feels like you’re avoiding him and the longer he thinks about your little encounter the more annoyed he feels himself getting. What was your problem anyways?

He swears the universe is messing with him because the next time you both bump into each other he’s in the elevator by himself and it’s far too early for human interaction, especially with you. The doors are closing and he’s preoccupied on skipping through instagram stories that when he hears someone calling out to hold the elevator door open he does so without thinking much about it. He’s selfish to think that if he had recognized your voice he wouldn’t have pressed the ‘OPEN’  button, he would’ve just let the doors shut (or even pressed close really), but you’re coming inside like a tornado, clearly late for whatever you needed to do and you don’t even spare him a look. It takes him a second to realize you don’t even notice it’s him as you thank him, going to press the 5th floor button just to see that it was already lit up. 

“You’re welcome.” Carlos says shortly, and he notices you visibly tense up, good he thinks. At least he wasn’t the only person uncomfortable and there was a brief sense of satisfaction that maybe he was getting under your skin the same way you were getting under his. His thoughts get thrown out the window though when you turn to face him and, since when was the elevator this small? 

“Oh, hi.” You say like it’s nothing, before turning to face your back towards him and that’s enough to make Carlos’ teeth grind. The annoyance that was simmering in him is suddenly overflowing and he can’t find himself to hold back. 

“Seriously? Hi? That’s it?” There’s venom laced to it that has you both surprised and you look back at him like you’re about to say something but no he thinks. It’s his turn to speak right now. “What are you even doing here? McLaren? Really?” He asks, as the door opens and he can practically hear your thoughts, already planning to book it. He grabs your wrist before you even have a foot out though, ignoring the way you both almost flinch at the contact before shaking his head. “We need to talk.” 

You both end up in one of the empty meeting rooms after you had reluctantly agreed by muttering a fine before following behind him. The tension is palpable and it’s clear you both did not want to be there but frankly Carlos didn’t care. The room is big and quite empty, the tables were lined up to form a square with an empty space in the middle where you both were. The clean and blank white walls make it difficult to avoid eye contact as there is nothing to focus on apart from each other. He’s rubbing his fingers together because his hand feels like it's on fire from having held your wrist earlier, but he tries his best to brush it off and ignore the feeling. 

“So?” He asks, crossing his arms. “What the hell are you doing here? Why would you come here?” You’re both standing, on almost opposite sides of the room and it's comical really, but for some reason what you find funny is his question because you laugh bitterly, even shaking your head. 

“I’m interning here Carlos. Did you not remember Tom introducing me? I just graduated and I got this opportunity. What are you doing here?” You say, matching Carlos’ tone and he realizes how he probably sounded but he’s annoyed and he doesn’t care. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. “You knew I would be in McLaren.” There is a tone of conviction in his voice. He knew you still watched races, that you still liked and followed the sport (especially if you were here right now). He knew you were invested and that you would know where each driver would go as soon as it was announced. 

“I’m sorry Carlos, should I have called to ask for your approval? Ask if I can join your team?” You ask and he can’t help but cringe at that question because seriously? That’s not what he meant at all, but he’s so mad that you’d even insinuate that that he just decides to quip back at you instead of telling you that wasn’t the case. 

“I mean, you technically are in my team now.” He can’t help himself to say. He feels a pool of satisfaction settle in his chest when it’s clear that you are fuming. “A heads up would have been nice. That’s all.” He follows up when you don’t say anything back. “You knew I’d be here, at least you had a choice to show up. Did you just want to throw me off or something?” He knows how he sounds, accusatory and bitter but he’s mad and his words are rolling off his tongue faster than he can think. The way you roll your eyes makes him even angrier. 

“How conceited are you to think I chose to be here to get at you?” You ask and Carlos can’t help but scoff, muttering a whatever. “I didn’t even know I would be working under your team,” You say, using air marks when you say your team. “I dislike this as much as you do.” 

“Regardless you could have told me. It’s basic decency y/n. It’s not like you don’t have my number.” Carlos says sharply and what you say surprises him. 

“No, I don’t actually. Deleted it. Didn’t need it anymore.” He’s staring at you now in complete disbelief, because no way you deleted his number. He’s about to open his mouth but he can’t even accuse you of lying because he can’t even remember the last time you both exchanged words. Was it really that long ago?

“I see,” He settles with instead and this time he needs to lean back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest as you both silently stare at each other. “You still could have given me a heads up still. We both have instagram.” He knows he’s picking at straws now but he doesn’t care. 

“Yeah and get lost in the sea of DMs you get? You’re Mr. Big Shot now” You scoff, also crossing your arms over your chest and he can’t help but sigh again. 

“Why did you lie?” He asks now, deciding to ignore your jab at him. “When Zak asked if we knew each other- we could have said we were frie-'' Carlos says but he’s soon cut off. Your words are almost deafening.

“That’s the thing Carlos, we aren’t friends.” And Carlos doesn’t know what to do except to laugh. You’re looking at him unimpressed and he just shakes his head. He didn’t know what to expect really, because you were right, but he can feel an emptiness spread in his chest as your words decide to settle in there with it. It’s like a cold slap across his face. 

“You know what y/n? Fuck you. I am trying to have a decent conversation with you.” He knows this isn’t true. The way he had confronted you had already set a sour tone. He finds himself pushing himself off the table though to properly stand, deciding that the conversation was already over. “Whatever. You do you. I do me. Just stay the fuck out of my way.” He says as he turns to go to the door. 

He forces himself to not look back when he hears you say back a fine, shutting the door behind him before heading to the engineering team, already late. A few heads turn to him once he walks in but nobody really bats an eye, it was rare for Carlos to come late so letting it slide once wasn’t an issue. 

He doesn’t even realize that you’re supposed to be there until you stumble in almost fifteen minutes later, murmuring an apology as you keep your head down and head to the back. 

He tries his best to keep his mind focused on Tom, nodding along with the different suggestions he had on how he could possibly be running the car in tests. The moment he finally finds himself relaxing for a moment, Tom is saying something about how someone had really good insight on a few things. His jaw tenses when your name gets thrown into the conversation and at this point it felt like a sick joke. Of course Tom is already saying he’s going to call you over and Carlos decides to just nod, straightening his back a bit as he rests his arms on the table. He watches Tom get up before letting out a sigh to look back at the screen. He rubs his temples, tired already. 

“Hey,” You say and Carlos nods, not even looking at you. The tension is there, but it's mixed with something else that leaves a sour taste in Carlos’ mouth when he greets you back. Thankfully Tom sits between you both, completely clueless at the discomfort you both felt before pulling out a few other files that he had. 

You both glance at each other quietly before turning to the screen as Tom begins to point at a few things. 

This was going to be a long season, Carlos can’t help but think. 

________________________________

Link to Chapter 4

a/n: again ty ty ty for reading!!! i am open for suggestions or comments and constructive criticism. i hope you enjoy and i hope i can get a chapter out next week too. work has been eating me alive lowkey but it is what it is. aaaah,

taglist (y'all literally own my heart and i hope y'all enjoy): @luvrboygaslys-interacts @mossafiato @animesimp2 @gridmetro @iamasimpingh0e @ihearttheoriginals @panicforspec @wildflowertaste @hammyknight @im-an-overthinker @serialkillertbh @pierre-gasssllyy @lostinketterdam @organasith @sarasturniolo @azenpal @sukunasrealgf @imsoconfused2903

as always here's my masterlist i am taking reqs atm <3

[frozenjokes]

the boatem ghosts epilogue is over 10k words I am filled with such great fear what have I started. Also given that I’m writing it all before I post it bc I have no idea what I’m doing uhhhhhhhh idk where o was going with that here’s a sneak peak.

cw: violence, fighting, not really much blood cub is a ghost and scar is built different. That’s all the context you really need

Also this is unedited

***

He grabbed for the firework rockets in his pocket, but Scar was quick, his claws hooking into Cub’s legs. Cub shrieked and kicked out, but his foot found no solid purchase on Scar’s body. In a moment of panic, he dove downward before Scar could drag him out of the air, aiming to drive him against a tree. The thing about running headfirst into trees however, is that you, the guy in front, also get a face full of bark if you’re not careful, which Cub was decidedly not. Cub reeled back, unsure if the screech filling the air was his own or Scar’s. He sat, suspended in a daze, but didn’t get the chance to recover before Scar pounced, dragging him to the ground in a sharp pin.

“I’m not done with you. I have one more question. Go ahead and relax, alright?” Scar breathed, his nails shaking lightly against Cub’s shoulders. Cub huffed, his eyes closing seemingly against his own will. Well, it wasn’t like he could see much anyway face down in the dirt. And resting here, surrounded by such a strong magic presence, well, it was comfortable. If he didn’t think too hard about the claws in his back, he almost felt safe. He hoped this spell wasn’t going to affect his memory.

“Good,” Scar continued when Cub didn’t answer, still breathing heavily, “This magic I’m doing, I know you can track it, but can anyone else? I didn’t see any other… vex.. whatever you are.. around.”

Cub grumbled to himself, struggling to turn his head, which Scar did not make any easier. “We all have ways to track traces of magic of any creature that’s able to use it. When you’re looking for a specific mob, we’ve got machines that can track anything. If someone wanted to find an evoker or a vex, they could. As it stands, it’s pretty obvious something big is here. Though, I don’t think anyone is looking, so you can take your nails out of my back, thank you.”

Scar seemed to take his last comment as a suggestion to do the opposite. Cub winced, the fog on his mind parting slightly. Was this part of the spell? Did Scar have to work to make him comfortable for it to be most effective?

“Right. Well I’m done with you now.” Scar wrenched his claws across Cub’s back, Cub opening his eyes fast enough to see the sneer on Scar’s face. His stomach dropped. He couldn’t die here. What if his spirit couldn’t find its way out? Scar seemed to wait for Cub’s response, cruelty dancing in his expression. Cub didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but he needed to buy time.

“My question,” Cub pushed back, fighting to push back the reason for his fear from his voice, “I haven’t asked my question.”

“Oops,” Scar raked his claws against his back once more and Cub opened his mouth in a silent scream, “Well, I’m getting tired, so maybe next time, hm?” Scar raised his arm to strike again, but Cub turned, drawing his own claws across Scar’s face, catching the left side. Scar gasped as Cub scrambled out from under him, but apparently the threat of injury was not enough to deter the vex. Either the spell made Cub move slower, or Scar was just quick, but as Scar leapt again, it was becoming increasingly clear Cub wouldn’t be able to run.

Cub turned to face him, just fast enough to catch one arm, but not the other as Scar dragged it down his chest. Scar only grazed his skin, but given the malevolent excitement in his eyes, Cub got the impression that was on purpose. He was being played with. He lashed out clumsily, but Scar stepped back, diving forward at the follow-through and knocking Cub back to the ground. Cub kicked out again, but still couldn’t seem to strike where the other’s scars had made him physical. Cub grimaced as Scar shoved his arms to the ground.

“You’re afraid, now why is that? This isn’t about the question, is it, Cub,” Scar snickered, digging his claws through the old injuries in his arms. Cub winced at the discomfort, struggling to pull his face away from Scar.

“Let me go. I’ll leave, you don’t have to send me back this way. I’ll leave.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Believe me I’ll leave. I won’t even come back for a while, if that’s what you want,” Cub squeezed his eyes shut, wincing at his own desperation. He could swallow his pride if that meant he could get out of here in one piece.

“Oh, don’t worry, I believe you,” Scar drew his claws gently across Cub’s neck in a tease. Cub thrashed, but stopped stiffly as Scar tightened his grip. “Are you worried? About getting lost?”

Cub gritted his teeth as Scar pressed down harder. “No.”

“Ah, well that’s good. Personally, I’m feeling optimistic! Watching you bumble around the woods for a couple hours has got me feeling pretty good about this. Good luck!”

“No-” but Scar had already ripped away his throat, sending darkness swirling through his vision.

[universalfanfic]

Here it is!

Sutton meets Frank and doubtlessly creates problems she'll have to help fix later.

Edit: Sutton saw more of the MCU in this AU bc I think it’s more fun.

Sutton sat curled up in the back corner of the meat freezer she was locked in. The frigid air bit at the bruises and scratches that marred her face and legs as she continued to shiver. She was so cold. Sutton wiped tears away before they could freeze. 

All it took was a couple wrong turns in Hell’s Kitchen for her to be nearly knocked unconscious and dragged into a cartel base. She just wanted to find a little bakery she’d seen online, and now she was in real danger of not making it to the end of the day. 

The men outside in the butcher shop were still arguing. Sutton didn’t speak Spanish, but she knew enough to understand that the one who’d grabbed her recognized her in connection to Tony. She didn’t have to speak Spanish to understand that the rest of his gang thought his, likely a ploy for ransom, idea was stupid since Tony was Iron Man. 

But Sutton had dropped her phone when he struck her from behind and she didn’t know how often Tony checked in on her location. By the time he noticed her missing, it would probably be too late. 

No, no, no. She couldn’t think like that. She had to believe she would make it out. 

But the freezer was locked from the outside and there were cartel members standing within sight of the door. 

They were discussing what to do about her now. She could feel it in her gut. 

A shot rang out above their bickering; their arguing turned to yelling and the thudding of feet. Sutton’s eyes cut sharply over to the freezer door. More shots went off. There was a scream cut short. 

Her reactor sped up her heart rate in response as she struggled to stand but her legs were nearly frozen together. More screams managed to pierce the freezer door and she stuck in place, her eyes locked on the small window in the door. 

The cartel in Hell’s Kitchen, being attacked in a butcher shop. It felt familiar, but her mind was too panicked to pinpoint why.

When the screaming died down she forced herself to the freezer door. It could be another gang attacking this one, sure, but either way she wasn’t in a good spot; and she’d rather take her chances outside the freezer. 

The window in the door was too high and too small to be of much use to her. Sutton banged her fist on the door and hoped that someone was close enough to hear it. 

“Help! Help, please! I’m- I’m locked in here!” 

It felt like the vibrations from her knocking froze in the air and crashed to the ground every time she tried. She couldn’t even tell how hard she was really hitting the door with how numb her hand was. 

They would hear her, they would hear her, they would hear her. 

They had to. Otherwise she wasn’t getting out. 

The door handle clicked and turned, and Sutton scrambled back. A gun barrel pushed through first followed by a man. 

Her mind finished computing its earlier thought about this all being familiar. 

“Frank! Oh, thank God.” 

Frank Castle stared at her with a stoic expression as he took her in. His gaze flickered over her bruised face and scratched limbs and he refused to lower the barrel of his gun. 

“Who are you?” 

“My name is Sutton Regan; those guys abducted me because I work for Tony Stark. I mean, at least, that’s the gist I got. I just want to go home.”

Getting the important information out would help, right? Identifying herself and her reason for being there so he wouldn’t confuse her for anything other than a victim. 

She shivered violently and Frank lowered his gun only marginally. 

“How do you know my name?” 

That stopped her. The cold made her thinking slow, slower than usual, and she blinked once as she processed the question. 

She should not recognize Frank Castle. 

Frank Castle probably wouldn’t like that she recognized Frank Castle. 

She could have said a lot of things. She could have said she read about his family in the paper or seen an article about his company’s tour online. Anything remotely plausible, which still probably wouldn’t have helped, but would have been a lot better than, 

“I’m not part of the cartel, I swear.” 

Frank stared at her again, unreadable, then grunted and holstered his gun. 

“You gonna try an’ fight me?” 

Sutton sighed and it took more coordination than it should have to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“No.” 

“Can you walk?” 

“Not as quickly as you need to get out of here.” 

He grunted again and moved closer to her. Sutton didn’t try to scramble away as he picked her up in a princess carry. Frank backed out of the freezer and Sutton instinctively looked to the side. She wished she wouldn’t have. 

The cartel members hung on meat hooks like animals and it- it was real. It wasn’t something she could reassure herself was special effects. She recognized the guy on the end as the dumb one who’d grabbed her. 

They were horrible, dangerous people. She had no doubt they’d killed plenty of others and probably would have killed her before the end of the day. 

But she still didn’t want to see their guts.

Sutton turned her face away, which inadvertently had her pressing her nose against Frank’s chest. It took her body a moment to finally realize he was warm. She pressed herself closer in a desperate bid to thaw. 

Frank started to head for the back exit and Sutton snapped her head up. At least her thinking was starting to thaw faster than her body. 

“Wait!” 

“If you’re gonna beg for me to let you go, I can’t do that.” 

“No, no. I get it. But I can be tracked.” 

“Excuse me?” 

His tone shifted downward and Sutton peered up at him as she pulled her shirt low enough to reveal her arc reactor. Frank’s brow puckered in surprise, but that was about it. His stare was piercing, calculating. Sutton had thrown a wrench in his plans and now he had to recalculate. 

“Can you just, you know, do the tin foil thing?” 

“You’re talkin’ about a Faraday cage.” 

“Yeah, if you cover my reactor-” 

“That’s not how-” 

“It’ll work.” She said sharply. “Just, don’t tell me the specifics on how a Faraday cage operates. Please, trust me. Make one around the reactor as best you can and it’ll work.” 

“I don’t know who you are,” said Frank. 

“And we don’t have enough time for me to convince you to trust me.” 

He at least agreed that time was of the essence now. Frank grabbed a roll of plastic wrap and tin foil from the shop’s stores and had her hold onto them as he picked her back up and left the butcher shop. 

There was a car waiting parked in a back alley, and Frank put her down in the passenger seat and shut the door quickly as if she might try to make a break for it. But her legs were still mostly frozen and she wasn’t stupid. 

He hurried into the driver’s seat then locked the doors before driving away. 

An awkward silence bloomed in the car and Sutton shivered as she fiddled with the boxes in her lap. Frank glanced at her then turned up the heat and swiveled the fans in her direction. 

“Thank you.” 

“Are you gonna start talking or am I gonna have to start asking questions?” 

Sutton waggled her pointer finger at her head. 

“I was in that freezer for a while. How about you ask questions.” 

Frank snorted lightly. 

“How about you start with how you know who I am.” 

Sutton tried to rapidly consider her options, but every millisecond damned her. She didn’t particularly want to spread the news to every main character she met that she knew who they were, their secrets, and their life trajectory. Plus, her knowing Frank’s tragic past would make it easier for him to convince her to tell him everything she knew about what may come next and how he could change it. 

She still wasn’t sure if she cared about that anymore. 

And anyway, he may not even believe her if she told him the truth. Aliens and superheroes were one thing. A girl from a world that used yours for entertainment was quite something else. 

“I saw you in the, uh, paper. The newspaper.” She finally said. “I, um. I remembered because it was sad.” 

“Uh-huh.” Said Frank. “You wanna try that again with the truth?” 

Sutton dropped her head in exasperation and groaned. 

“Seriously? Every time?” She muttered. “If this were a running gag, it’d be getting pretty old by now.” 

“Well?” 

“Pass?” 

“Not an option.” 

She groaned quietly again and let her head fall back against her seat. Maybe she didn’t have to tell him the entire truth. Maybe she could spin it without technically lying. 

“Look. You’re not going to believe me.” 

Frank maneuvered the car through traffic and spared her one quick glance. 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Fine. It’s- I used to have…visions, of a sort.” “Visions,” Frank said flatly. 

“Yes. Visions. Kind of. It was,” Sutton rolled her hand in the air as she pretended to think about how to explain it. “It was like watching a scene in a movie or show,” she said. “I would get snippets of people’s lives. Moments. But, as you may guess, I don’t exactly like sharing that with people. They get the wrong idea about what I actually know.” 

Frank was silent as he absorbed her explanation and Sutton hoped she was convincing. It wasn’t a lie, so hopefully it would be. Enough for him to not dig for specifics at least.

“You had visions. Of me.” He said. “But you don’t have them anymore.” 

“I don’t have any anymore. I, well, I lost that…ability.” 

The car turned into a public parking lot and Frank parked in a back corner, out of direct line of sight of the road. He turned off the car and just sat and stared at her for a moment. Sutton shifted in her seat and pulled at a loose strand of hair. 

“Do you believe me?” 

“Dunno. I think there’s plenty you’re not saying.” 

Sutton nodded slowly. 

“Yeah.” 

His brow puckered again as if her cavalier answer confused him. Instead of responding or demanding further explanation, he jutted his chin at the supplies still in her lap and she passed them over. 

“You wearing anything under that?” 

Sutton assumed he meant her shirt and nodded. She pulled the shirt off without him asking further and sat in her cami as Frank grabbed a first aid kit from the back seat. He dug out a roll of medical tape and then set to his task. 

He ripped off strips of plastic wrap and tin foil and alternated them in several layers before he ended with a last layer of tin foil, put the entire thing over her reactor, and taped it over her skin. 

A Faraday cage would keep the signal from getting out and giving anyone the ability to track her, but it wouldn’t interfere with its functioning. That’s definitely how Faraday cages worked. 

“Why did you tell me you could be tracked?” 

Frank’s voice broke her out of her concentration and Sutton swallowed. 

“You’re not supposed to be caught right-” she quickly stopped herself from adding ‘now’,  “and, well, I don’t want to mess things up for you.” 

He eyed her more sharply. 

“You know what I’m doin’, don’t you? You saw what I did to those scumbags.” 

Sutton avoided eye contact by busying herself with putting her shirt back on. Frank looked away while she did.

“I know.” 

“And you don’t feel like you oughta turn me in?” 

It was complicated. There were still a lot of emotions churning inside her, and Sutton didn’t know how to express all of them. At least, not in a way that didn’t make her sound like a cold-hearted psychopath. 

“They were going to kill me,” she said. 

And for the first time the idea really sunk in. She’d known it, on a superficial level, the entire time, but now it meant something. She shivered again despite being mostly thawed out. 

She would have died today if it wasn’t for Frank. 

“Yeah.” Frank agreed.

“You saved my life, by doing what you did. You probably saved other people that they would’ve hurt in the future. Why should I turn you in?”

Frank’s head tipped back as he looked down at her, his expression somewhere between impressed and slightly dumbfounded. He grunted again and started the car back up. 

Silence settled in the car once again, and Sutton thought it wasn’t quite as heavy this time. Frank parked along a curb and once again reached into the back seat, this time pulling out a baseball cap. He held it out to her and Sutton accepted it and put it on without complaint. It was probably to try and conceal her bruised face.

He turned his head towards her before he opened his door. 

“You’re not going to run for it.” 

“That’d be pretty pointless, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then let’s just go. Might as well happen today anyway.” 

Luckily she’d thawed out enough to competently walk, and she followed silently after him as he walked to a building down the block and opened a door at street level. He pushed it open and gestured for her to go in first. Sutton wasn’t sure if it were due to chivalry or making sure she really didn’t run.

The apartment was sparse, even in the entryway, and Sutton paused as she realized she could attempt to prove herself as being honest. 

“You’re taking care of a dog,” she said. Frank looked down at her sharply. “It’s a gray pit bull, and you took it from the Irish after you shot them up. You patched its wounds.” 

Frank eyed her a second longer then brushed past her and entered another room. There were radios and gear strewn over every available surface. A board with notes sat on the other end. 

And there was the dog. 

“The dog was in one of your visions.” Frank said flatly. 

The dog wagged its tail on their entrance and Sutton smiled at it and made her way over. It welcomed her in the exact way a vicious guard dog shouldn’t. 

She kept her eyes on the dog as she scratched behind its ears.

“It was part of one, yes.” 

“You’re trying not to say something again.” He commented. “You know, I’d appreciate not having to play games.”

Sutton winced and straightened as she faced him. She considered him, her situation, and wondered how long he’d insist on keeping her here. 

She didn’t doubt he’d let her go before the end of the day. Frank was a man on a mission and he had bigger fish to fry than her. 

But he could still get enough information from her to severely alter the future. At least for Matt Murdock and a few others. 

“I know you’re a no-nonsense kind of guy, and I get you want me to tell you whatever I know. But I’ll be honest with you, Frank, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.” 

“Then you know something important.” 

She winced again and Frank tipped his head back in a gesture of victory. 

“Look, it’s not like I don’t want to- I mean, there’s plenty of ways for all this to go more cleanly, but I could also make things worse.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Frank said with a wave of his hand. “You could make things worse?” 

Sutton frowned. 

“Yes. By telling you what I know.” 

“You think what I may do with the information you have is on you? You think you’re responsible for my choices?” 

“In a way,” Sutton argued. “Because there’s a chain of events with bad things that happen and good things, and if I tell you, you’re going to alter some of your choices, or try to jump ahead, and it could cause other bad things to happen.” 

“You don’t know what I’d do.” 

“Maybe, but I know what a few other people have done. And they never just sit on what I know and do nothing.” 

Frank said nothing in response and they stared at each other before Sutton broke and looked away. The dog pressed against her leg and Sutton rubbed at its head absently. 

“How long do I have to stay before you decide I can leave?” 

“You know who I am, where I’m holed up, and what I’m aiming for. You can understand why I’d be reluctant, ma’am.”

Sutton rolled her eyes. 

“I’m not going to turn you in. I already told you that.” 

“Because of your vision stuff?” 

She shifted slightly. 

“Partially, yeah.” 

They kept coming to stand stills and Sutton wasn’t sure how to progress. If she told Frank about the Blacksmith, it could save an entire court case and quite a bit of bloodshed. It could also get Karen killed. 

Unless, of course, Frank went after his former Major first. 

If he even believed her. 

She shook her head and rubbed at her temple. Was she even considering it? Was she open to being stupid just because Frank had a tragic backstory and saved her life? 

Tony and Thor were told of future events and took advantage of them. The world hadn’t collapsed and no one she knew died from it.

And wasn’t that a horrible, justifying thought. 

No one she knew. 

“Doing some serious thinkin’ over there.” 

  “Thinking about how much trouble I’m going to be in later for not only getting abducted twice in one day, but also telling someone else I… know things.” 

“You get in situations like this often?”

“I wouldn’t say often.” 

“Mhm.” Frank crossed his arms over his chest and jutted his chin at her. “Well?” 

Sutton squinted, crossed her own arms, twisted her lips to the side in annoyance. 

“How stubborn are you?” 

“Ma’am, I was in the Marines. Ninety percent of my job was to hurry up and wait.” 

“Dang it.” 

The horrible realization that she’d have to tell him the big thing, give him the name of the guy at the top, just to try and circumvent any truly heinous fallout was daunting. 

Any different than Tony knowing Aldrich was his next nemesis? Any different than telling Thor Malekith was his next threat?

To be fair, she didn’t think Tony or Thor would grab an AR-15 and immediately set out to cap a fool. 

Well, to be really fair, Thor didn’t have or need an AR-15.

“You actually believe I know something useful? You’re not just waiting to see what I’ll say and then halfway commit to seeing if it’s true? Because, let me tell you, that could cause major, horrible, unforeseen ramifications.” 

“Ma’am.” Frank said sternly. “You tell me something substantial and the devil himself couldn’t stop me.”

Sutton snorted lightly even as she steeled herself. She took a deep breath.

“Off the record,” she said with an eye roll, “um, hm, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but the- the gang… shooting you got caught in was supposed to be a sting to catch a main drug supplier. A guy called The Blacksmith.” 

Frank’s gaze sharpened and he leaned forward; the intensity of eye contact made Sutton’s stomach twist. He licked his bottom lip and nodded. 

“Who is it? Give me his name.” 

Sutton grimaced. 

“You have no real reason to right now, but I’m begging you to believe what I’m about to say. Because, as it is, he almost kills someone when you didn’t find out until later.”

Frank nodded. 

“I don’t actually remember his name, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the, uh, vision. But it’s your old Major. The one who didn’t listen to you when you wanted to retreat and you had to clear a way to the helicopter alone. The first man you’d think of for a good character witness.” 

Frank didn’t move. His stare was hard. 

“Ray Schoonover,” he said. 

“Yes.” 

The air turned thick. Frank turned away and rubbed at the back of his head, the pointer finger on his right hand twitched rapidly at his side. Sutton swallowed and turned her attention back to the dog. She kept her eye on Frank’s pacing so she noticed when he turned back to her. 

“Tell me something else.” He said. “Something so I know you’re real.” 

“One batch, two batch, penny and dime.”

He looked like she’d struck him. His back was stiff and his eyes were wide as he stared down at her. His chest heaved. Sutton sighed and forced herself to not look away; it felt disrespectful to try to hide in any way after saying something he held so sacred. 

“Alright. Okay.” 

She stood and Frank braced himself against one of the tables, his fists curled. Sutton inched closer at the growing look of violence blooming in his eyes. Tentatively, she placed her hand over his. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” 

This time he didn’t look at her. His eyes were set ahead and he only vaguely swayed in her direction. 

“That you have to go through this. That I didn’t get here sooner, I guess.” 

He looked down at her hand and Sutton pulled away. 

“Was that substantial enough?” 

He swallowed. 

“Yeah. 

Sutton nodded and took a few steps back; Frank didn’t try to stop her. She waffled in the doorway as she looked at the dog. 

“Maybe I should take him.” 

“What?” 

“The Irish are looking for you,” she said, gesturing. “I never really found out what happened to him.” 

Frank’s jaw clenched. 

“Take him, then. His name is Max.” 

She untethered his leash and Max happily went along with her. 

“Max. Did you name him?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ugh, fine.” 

That, of all things, seemed to throw Frank off enough that his rage dimmed. 

“What? You got a problem with the name?” 

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just- you know, he feels more like a Cupcake.” 

Frank snorted in bewilderment. 

“You’re a grown woman. Do not call my damn dog Cupcake.”

“Food names for animals are funny. And he’s sweet. He’d be lucky.” 

It felt very strange to take a vigilante’s dog and leave him after dropping an information bomb on him the size of the one she had. There were too many loose threads dangling that she had no control over and she knew she wouldn’t be getting much sleep. 

She had yet to process any part of the day. 

“You gonna need a ride?”

Sutton waved dismissively and tried to smile.  

“No, I’ll just set off an alarm on this and Tony ‘ll come get me,” she said, pointing to her reactor. “But, seriously, thank you, Frank. You saved my life and- and I know I probably shouldn’t agree with what you’re doing but-” She mulled over her words as she tried to figure out how much to reveal about her own thought process. “It’s effective.” 

“It’s nothing less than they deserved.” 

“Probably.” She cleared her throat and feigned lightheartedness. “Well, if things feel like they’re not going the right direction, just look me up. I’m on the Stark Industries website. I’ll help if I can.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

“Good luck, Frank.” 

Sutton limped down the sidewalk, Max trotting at her side, and she made sure to at least be a block away from Frank’s hideout before she peeled off the questionable Faraday cage. Her reactor beeped shrilly and Sutton assumed that meant Jarvis was already aware something was wrong. She leaned against a building to wait. 

“You know,” she said, looking down at a wagging Max, “I thought Cupcake was a perfectly good name.”

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

notoriously yours | jay park

✰ summary: jay park is a rich kid. it’s safe to say he has everything every broke college student on his campus could dream of and more. but the one thing he doesn’t have, which money definitely can’t buy, is a girlfriend. and his friends won’t see of it. literally.

so what happens when his friends bet him to date someone for more than three months? what happens when jay decides that fake-dating someone would be easier than actual dating (because god forbid Jay–the campus’ notoriously known fuckboy–decides to commit to something once in his life)?

and what happens when that someone is you, his childhood best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years..who has absolutely no interest in being in his life anymore?

✰ pairing: jay park x y/n [ft. members of enha]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy, angst | fakedating!au, college!au, childhoodbestfriends!au, (kinda) e2l!au

✰ warnings: cursing, nothing suggestive but jay's a fuckboy so slightly suggestive themes, mentions of parental neglect/leaving, it's hella long (and i thought my last fic was long)

✰ wc: 14.7k (how did i get it this long oh lord)

✰ author's note: picture creds go to original owners/editors! peep that edit of jay that lowkey inspired this entire fic 👀also this took me so, so long bc i lost motivation half way thru and bc college is a thing,,,so i honestly don't know how to feel abt it so pls bare with me :')))) ALSO the dividers are weird bc idk how to add more than 10 pics for the dividers so pls excuse those ٩(× ×)۶i hope u guys enjoy!! <333

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

Jay Park is a rich kid.

Jay Park has enough to buy every textbook he needs for his courses without having to look up the free versions online. Jay Park has enough to bribe his professors to let him pass every class with a perfect 4.0 GPA (but because the boy has morals, he doesn't). Jay Park has enough to afford a car to drive to his furthest class from his dorm building instead of walk or bike like every other college student, meaning he also has enough to afford a parking spot on campus (those things aren't cheap!).

Jay Park walks around your school's campus like he owns the place (and considering the amount of money his family has donated to the school, he practically does), looking like he just walked out of your local coffee shop's newest fashion magazine. His blonde hair is never seen untouched, his attire usually consisting of an undoubtedly high-end all-black fit, accessorized with multiple earrings and rings that probably cost more than all the overpriced textbooks you had to rent out this semester. It's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park.

Bottom line is, Jay Park has everything.

Well, his friends beg to differ.

In their eyes, Jay Park has everything but a simple factor in the equation of love (or whatever love is to the minds of a couple of 19 year olds): commitment.

So yes, it's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park. Because everyone knows he's the campus' rich fuckboy. (What's a college fanfic campus without one anyways?)

Jay doesn't go unreminded of this by his friends, to the boy's annoyance.

Jay is aware of this on a Sunday afternoon, in his dorm building's first floor lounge, where he and his said friends are having a study session.

They're doing anything but studying.

In fact, no one has any books out or anything. Not a single laptop in site.

"You don't think it's the slightly bit concerning?" Jake's words are muffled as he continues munching on the fried chicken that he spent majority of this study session debating if he should have it delivered through UberEats or not.

"I really don't, no," Jay shrugs as he continues mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed. They're having the same argument conversation that they've revisited multiple times over the course of their friendship, one that Jay has been lectured on too many times for his own good. He thinks his friends could become his new parents if they really tried.

"Look at it this way, okay. You're about to graduate college in a couple of years, into the big world. Like the actual, adult world. And that means you'll have to settle down. Which you can't do when you. have. no. commitment!" Jake punctuates each word with a single clap of his hands, desperate to get his point across.

Jay simply rolls his eyes. He looks over to Sunghoon, who's minding his own business, not bothered by the same topic he's heard over and over again. His eyes tell Jay you're on your own, in response to his blonde-haired friend's look of despair.

Jay thinks that maybe he should get new friends. Yes, that's the only solution here.

"My love life," Jay reaches across the table for a drumstick from the greasy tub seated in Jake's lap until Jake swats his hand away, "is none of your business. Also, ouch."

"Uh, it kinda is. Because of you and your reputation around campus, it kinda affects us, your best friends. How do you think we look, hanging out with the guy who's known to ghost every girl in existence after one night with them? No offense to you," Jake deadpans to him. Jay mentally reconsiders the term best friends.

Tough love. Jay tells himself it's tough love.

"Yes, because every girl totally hates Jake Sim, the teacher assistant of a physics class who volunteers at the pet shelter every Sunday and brings their pet golden retriever to campus every two weeks," Jay rolls his eyes at his Australian friend.

Jake sighs. "Okay, then I'm coming from a place of worry for you."

Jay groans. "Again, none of your business!" This doesn't stop Jake. He comes from good intentions, really, but Jay wants nothing more than to stuff the kid's mouth with some of that chicken to shut him up.

"What are you gonna do if one day you meet someone you like, genuinely like, and you screw yourself over because you've never been in an actual relationship before? A real, committed one. Like one that lasts at least three months."

"You don't think I can last three months in a relationship?" Jay questions the boy currently taunting him.

"Honestly? No. What's the longest relationship you've been in?" Jake cocks an eyebrow at his friend across from him.

One month and two weeks. But Jay's smart enough to not say that out loud.

"I can so last over three months," Jay mutters more to himself than Jake.

Jake laughs at that, pausing to take another bite of the drumstick in his hand. "Jay, I am willing to actually bet you. Bet that you wouldn't be able to." He leans back on the couch, the ball now in Jay's court.

Jay freezes, looking up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at Jake.

"Forget it, Jake. He's not gonna agree even if you offered him money," Sunghoon finally perches from beside him. Well he's not wrong. It's not like Jay is exactly in need of more money, per say.

"What kind of bet are we talking here?"

Sunghoon's right. Jay doesn't need the money, but he does hate being wrong. Even if it's over something as stupid as this matter.

Caught off guard by the blonde's answer, Jake blinks blankly at him and takes a second to think.

"Hmm..what about...what about if you can date someone for at least three months, and I mean an actual, committed relationship, then I'll do all of your physics homework next semester."

Jay's eyes sparkle at that. If there's anything he despises more than commitment, it's physics.

"And if I win, you have to buy all of my textbooks," Jake sits back from the edge of his seat with a smirk lying on his face.

Jay pauses to think about it. I mean, what does he have to lose? A couple hundred dollars over college textbooks? No. Because he just simply won't lose.

And maybe he'll learn what it'll be like to actually be in a committed relationship for once. Maybe he'll finally learn what it's like to actually devote yourself to someone, open up to them. He shivers at the thought. Never mind. He'll warm up to it. Baby steps.

Nonetheless, what could go wrong? Even if he does lose, at least his money would be going somewhere productive––towards his friend's education. Jay was probably gonna use that money on something useless like a blanket that resembles a tortilla (a burrito blanket, he calls it)––something he doesn't necessarily need, but must have, he would argue.

"Fine. Whatever, okay. Deal," he grabs Jake's extended hand in front of him and shakes on it.

Jake's impressively smiling at the boy as Sunghoon lets out a sigh, in disbelief with the two guys he calls his best friends.

Jay concludes that this will be easier than his Introduction to Photography 101 course he took his freshman year. How hard is it to find someone to date the Jay Park? Surely, everyone will be lining up once Jay switches his FaceBook relationship status from "it's complicated" to "single".

Turns out, it's not as easy as his class where all Jay had to do was take pictures of a pretty sunset, slap a VSCO filter on, and call it a day.

He comes to this realization on a Wednesday evening, as he's seated at one of the many study tables lined in the middle of the campus' library, staring down at his phone's dry iMessage app, with his laptop and blank sheets of scratch paper scrambled across the entire table, as an attempt to look half as studious as the other students studying in the facility.

Turns out, being known as the campus' fuckboy who ghosts every girl on campus isn't a good thing when it comes to wanting to find a real relationship.

He comes to this realization after failing to receive a single text back to the many ones he sent out throughout the first half of his day. The ghoster gets ghosted. Oh how the turn tables.

Jay groans dramatically as he tosses his phone on the hard surface of the table, earning himself a harsh shush from the librarian filing books in the aisle beside him.

He sheepishly smiles back as an apology, directing his attention back to his open laptop screen, where his untouched calculus homework stares back at him––his mind preoccupied with the looming threat of Jake's bet. Not that it was threatening in any way, per say, but Jay just hates losing. And from the looks of things, it's safe to say that Jay won't be celebrating any victories anytime soon.

Jay thinks he should just change his identity and just transfer to some boarding school in Switzerland. Yes, that's a much better solution than admitting defeat to Jake.

Jay sighs as he lies his head on the table, figuring he might as well just write the check for Jake's textbooks now. He wonders how he got here in the first place. Not how he got into the bet, and definitely not how he's sitting in the middle of the library, having yet to start his calculus homework due at 11:59PM tonight (he should really start that).

But no, he wonders how he gained the reputation as the campus' playboy. To be fair, his friends (mainly Jake), are constantly reminding him of his notorious habits. But how did they come a habit in the first place?

The idea of being in a relationship is nice, sure, but the commitment that comes with it? The idea of being dependent on someone? It's scary, vulnerable, and one that Jay can't picture for himself.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be paired. Maybe some people, like Jay, like being independent and are meant to stay that way.

But Jay also likes affection. He likes the fleeting, warm feeling he gets every time he finds himself under someone's sheets. He likes the short-lived comfort he receives from someone else's touch, even though he knows it's going to cease to exist the second he steps out of those bedroom's doors. He just likes affection, simple as that.

That and he's a 19 year old teenage boy with needs, what did you expect?

And so what if he likes the idea of affection minus commitment? Is that so bad? Apparently it is, to people like his friends and the entirety of his school's campus, at least.

At this rate, he might as well pay someone to date him.

Wait. Jay lifts his head off the table's surface in realization.

He might as well pay someone to date him.

There's no harm in that, is there?

He wouldn't have to endure through an endless amount of dates to find someone he clicks with, then continue going on dates with said clicked person, all while trying to develop an actual, serious relationship.

He'll win the bet, get his physics homework done for an entire semester, and some lucky girl out there will be making profit for the small price of hanging out with Jay Park for three months.

And lucky for him, Jay knows the perfect candidate for this scheme.

Simple as that.

Just as long as said perfect candidate says yes.

And as long as Jake and Sunghoon don't find out. Or else Jay might really have to move to Switzerland after all.

You love your friends, you do.

Hana and Heeseung have been there for you when others haven't––they were by your side when you knew no one entering high school, and they were still by your side when you were all graduating said high school. Needless to say, you're eternally grateful for friends like them.

But right now, in this moment––with you seated in the middle of the campus' library, trying to write your essay, as your two friends blabber on and on about the most recent gossip across from you––your two friends could be your villain origin story.

But again, you love your friends, you do. So you don't have the heart to tell them to leave. You've managed to naturally tune out most of the conversation, anyways, for this––your friends coming to hang out while you're trying to study––is no rare occurrence by any means.

"Oh yeah, Jay Park texted me last night."

You hate how your brain's filter suddenly turns off at Hana's words.

You hate how your ears catch the sudden mention of Jay Park's name.

You hate how the thought of Jay Park gets to even occupy a single brain cell of yours.

You hate how you even know who Jay Park is. Well, knew.

Past tense. Because up until eighth grade––when Jay decided to just suddenly pretend you didn't exist––he was attached to you like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.

And if you had asked past Y/N, ideally, Jay would've never left your side. Ideally, he would've never left you to fend for yourself when entering high school. Ideally, he would've stayed your best friend through out all four years of high school and ideally, you would've eventually told him how you really felt about him after growing up with him all your life. And maybe it would've lead to a completely different story. But for the sake of this fic, we don't live in an ideal world.

So yes, if it wasn't for his attendance at the very same university as you, you would've forgotten about the boy who brought you the painful memories of your childhood.

And since the universe clearly doesn't work in your favor, avoiding Jay Park's existence like he's the plague would have to suffice. And it works.

For the most part.

Until some people, bring him up uninvited into your conversation. Like now, for example.

"When was the last time you guys talked anyways?" Heeseung mindlessly asks as he reaches across the table to grab one of the many snacks you usually bring to your study sessions.

"Uh..like a few weeks ago. Give or take. Whenever you threw your house party. Can't say there was much talking involved however," she teasingly says with a giggle and wiggle of her brows.

Heeseung's rolling his eyes as you scoff and chuck a nearby crumpled piece of paper that was once one of your many essay drafts at her.

She bats it away right as it's about to hit her face as she laughs. "Doesn't matter anyways. He ghosted me the next morning, as he does with everyone else. Telling you this now," she extends a finger right at you, "stay away from Jay Park. That kid's just bad news."

You nod in response, mentally telling her she has nothing to worry about.

Been there, done that.

College. Ah yes, the very concept of spending four years of your life imprisoned on a campus where you'll be tearing your hair out from stress and spending all your life's savings just for a laminated sheet of paper with a golden stamp at the end of it all. We live in a society.

Because of said college, and all the weight that comes along with it, you had adapted a strict daily schedule in order to not completely lose your mind. It's a simple schedule really, one of a typical college student who's just trying to get by everyday with as little mental breakdowns as possible.

Wake up, get ready, go to class, go to the library to do your homework, walk all the way across campus to get back to your dorm, shower, then sleep. Oh and eat, of course. And maybe if time permits, be an actual social being and socialize.

It's gotten you this far into the college life without dropping out so, you conclude, you must be doing something right.

Sometimes, if you're feeling nice to yourself, you'll tweak the schedule a bit to fit in some exceptions. Maybe squeeze in a little trip to the bubble tea shop that's on the other side of campus, or maybe get dinner at that one dining hall that you don't usually go to because of the unncessarily long lines (but because they serve ice cream, you go anyways). It doesn't matter what the exception is, you still plan it out to fit into your schedule somehow. Everything is planned out.

Sometimes, however, the universe disagrees with your schedule, to your demise. Such as today, for example.

Because what you didn't expect for today was for a particular blonde-haired boy who you haven't spoken to in almost six years (but who's counting?) to approach your table in the library––a table you were sure no one could find you at, as it was quietly tucked away in the back corner, right next to the Astrophysics shelves. Because who browses the Astrophysics aisle for fun? Actually, maybe Jake Sim would. Anyways.

You definitely didn't anticipate a visit from the boy you've been actively avoiding, so you definitely didn't expect the first words coming out of his mouth when he sees you for the first time in six years to be:

"Fake date me."

You blink up at him.

Yeah, definitely not expected.

But you only let it phase you for a split second, until you feel a slight annoyance beginning to bubble up deep inside of you.

"Wow, hello to you too Jay! It's been what––half a decade? Yeah I've been pretty good, thanks for asking!" The sarcasm is practically dripping off your tongue.

You don't know what runs through Jay's mind, but apparently it isn't common sense––or the ability to read the room. Because next thing you know, he's sliding the chair across from you out from underneath the table and making himself at home.

And he's smiling right at you.

Curse him and his smile.

But no, you're not giving into it.

Not yet, at least.

"What do you want?" You deadpan at him when he makes no sign of making the next move.

"A girlfriend," he deadpans right back at you, as if he was casually telling you what he wanted for dinner. As if you two were close-knit friends that could approach one another without any proper greeting. As if you two had kept your friendship all these years. As if you two even had a role in each other's lives.

"Can't help you there," you scoff, deciding to not even question his lack of manners on top of his uninvited presence.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why?"

"Well gee, seeing that the first few words you decided to say to my face for the first time in forever were a demand, a demand to date you no less, then....no," your monotone voice says as you keep your eyes focused on your laptop screen, not daring to look at the boy across from you.

In the Introduction to Sociology course you took your freshmen year, you had learned of one important term: interactional vandalism. Textbook definition being: "ignoring signals of disinterest in a conversation, leading it to an offense."

Your definition being: "are you oblivious or just plan dumb, read the room!"

This was interactional vandalism, alright. Whether Jay's truly oblivious or just trying to annoy you until your head explodes (it's really the former, but you're convinced it's the latter), he takes your signals of disinterest and tosses it right out of his head to continue the conversation.

"I'm stuck in this stupid bet with Jake--do you remember him? He bet me that I couldn't date someone for more than three months and I figured having someone fake date me would be easier than actually dating someone, right? That's where you come into the equation," he proposes as he leans back in his chair, as if he had just finished a sales pitch to a prospective customer looking to buy a car.

You couldn't believe this. You're 98% sure this has got to be a prank. You're mentally preparing for a camera crew to jump out from in-between the library's aisles any moment now and scream into your ears that you've just been punk'd!

The remaining 2% of you, however, wouldn't put it past the two boys to get themselves in such a situation. The last memory you had of Jay and his friends were pretty much their childish selves back in middle school. And by looking at the current scene unfolding in front of you...it's needless to say they haven't changed much.

"Again, can't help you there. Ask one of the many girlfriends I thought you had." Ouch.

"But Y/N, you've known me all your life--"

"Up until you dropped me a few years ago but sure, let's call it that."

"--and convincing other people is gonna make me look--"

"--desperate? Yeah."

"C'mon, Y/N. What do you have to lose anyways?"

"Uh..my dignity? Pride? Self-respect? Sorry Jay, not happening," you turn your attention back to your unwritten essay in front of you, mentally checking out of this conversation. This would be a good time for that camera crew to jump out now.

"Look, no one else is gonna do it, Y/N." Jay has always been stubborn, you suppose. But so are you.

"Yeah, because you've managed to push every being of the opposite gender away from you. You gave yourself this reputation in the first place," you give it to him straight. It's not like you had a relationship with him to uphold anyways––Jay himself broke that friendship years ago.

Jay hates that you're right.

You're always right. He remembers how he used to always go to you for advice and clarity on the world's biggest problems. Granted, the world's biggest problems to him at the time equated to what he should dress up as for the fifth grade Halloween party, but still. A tough decision, for the mind of a ten-year-old.

You abruptly stop typing and begin putting your laptop and textbooks away as you huff in frustration. There's no point in trying to get your work done now. The longer you stay arguing with Jay, the bigger your headache gets. The longer he continues to occupy any part of your brain, the bigger your headache gets.

Getting up from your seat, packed and ready to slam your head into your pillow, you turn to the blonde one last time.

"Look Jay. We went on our separate ways years ago. If you weren't so notoriously known around campus and my friends would stop talking about you, I would've long forgotten you. I'm sorry you're in this situation, really. If I were you, I'd just tell Jake I can't do it. Or don't, I can't tell you what to do. Just don't get some innocent girl involved in whatever stunt of yours this is."

Jay stares at you, mouth agape, as you find your way out of the library and through the main doors. By the time he comes back to his senses, he realizes how he looks plain stupid––standing in the middle of the library, the look on his face screaming befuddlement, to say the least. Jay quickly makes his way out of the building, in hopes of convincing you one last time.

Jay catches sight of your figure already half-way down the walkway that connects the library to the main quad of your school's campus. Geez, you walk fast.

Not fast enough to outrun Jay's legs, however. If Jay running after you through the middle of campus in order to convince you to fake date him doesn't show how desperate he is to win this bet, I don't know what will.

"Wait, Y/N!"

You groan to yourself before turning to face the boy who can't seem to take a hint and leave you alone. You stare at his out-of-breath state as he heaves up and down from the slight jog he had to endure to get to where you are. If you're humored by him chasing after you, you do a good job of hiding it.

He meets your unimpressed state before stating his final proposition: "I'll pay you. Five hundred dollars."

You nearly stop breathing.

Now this catches your attention––after all, you're but a broke college student who's just trying to survive. And preferably not by feeding yourself instant ramen cups every night.

And so, naturally, you begin rethinking about the opportunity presented in front of you. You narrow your eyes at the boy as you weigh your options.

The first problem being, it's Jay Park––the bane of your very existence. You spent the last few years of your life pretending he didn't exist...for good reason. Not only did he do you dirty when you were merely a couple of 13-year-olds, but you just didn't want to be involved with someone like him. Someone known for his nature, someone who left your own current best friend ghosted. And not that Hana herself would care, for she has called herself the "female Jay Park", but you're sure this would be breaking some rule in the girl code handbook. Plus, if you agree to this, you'd be betraying 13-year-old Y/N, the one who decided to never speak to nor think of Jay Park again––which by now you've failed, but you get the gist.

Second problem being, three months is a long time. Three months is practically the rest of this semester, and did you really want to spend the rest of the semester tied down to the label of being Jay Park's girlfriend? There would have to be some negative connotations that came along with that title, right? No offense to Jay, but being his first girlfriend since, what, high school could make you come off as..naive, for lack of a better term. As if the only person you could settle for was Jay Park. As if you barely had any standards for yourself. Again, no offense to Jay.

Needless to say, if your school's debate club had to argue on why you shouldn't be doing this, you're sure the negating side could win with these two reasons alone.

But before you're rejecting the boy currently standing in front of you one last time, you find yourself mentally listing rebuttals.

First of all, you'd be getting paid. And again, you're merely but a college student living the stereotypical broke college student life––burdened by the costs of tuition, textbooks, and midnight McDonalds runs for when you're out of aforementioned instant ramen cups. Five hundred dollars could provide you with more than enough chicken McNuggets to last you the semester, and maybe some more to treat yourself to an online shopping spree.

Second of all, it's not like you were going to do anything better with your next three months anyways. It's safe to say you were too busy being a diligent student to actually look for anyone to date, per say. And if anything, having a fake boyfriend might actually be helpful in your case. Your mom would be off your ass about how you're still single, for one. And two, your friends (though it's really just Heeseung) would stop trying to hook you up on blind dates with guys that you would choose Jay Park over any day (and that really says something).

Third of all, it's Jay Park. As much as you despise the kid, you still know him. He's not a complete stranger to you, no matter how much you try to deny it. It could be worse, it could be a complete rando asking you to date him. At least you two have some sort of history, which would take care of the typical small talk and getting to know each other bit of this equation. And truth be told, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't a tad bit satisfied by the fact that Jay chose you, of all people, to pull off this stunt with him. You don't know if it's the nostalgia of your childhood memories rushing back to you, but it reminds you of the endless schemes you two used to plan behind your parents' backs all the time. Granted, your childhood schemes––such as the both of you faking sickness so you could skip school together––don't even fall close to being in a fake relationship with one another, but still. It's the thought that counts.

All of those reasons plus, Jay isn't the worst to look at. He may have a spoiled reputation, but at least he has his looks going for him, you'll give him that (you're still secretly wondering when and how did he get his glow up, but don't tell him that).

And so by the guidelines of a college student's logic that states the pros outweigh the cons, you come to the overarching conclusion that maybe, this won't be so awful after all.

"Five hundred?" You ask, just for clarification. Jay's immediately nodding at your words. You continue to ponder on your thoughts as he stares at you hopefully.

The silent atmosphere of your campus heightens the tension so much, you swear you're in one of those overdramatic pausing scenes that occur too many times in k-dramas.

You sigh, then nod.

"Okay," you're internally praying that you won't regret this decision. "I'm in."

The next time you see Jay is at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building that's home to your awfully long Capitalism in the Western World class.

You're going down the steps of the building, mentally deciding where and what you're going to treat yourself to for lunch––as the three hour lecture you had just attended drained all the life and energy out of you––when you hear the slight call of your name.

Turning to the source, you're met with a waving Jay, leaning against the passenger's side of his car, parked in front of the lecture hall building you were currently leaving.

Great.

You walk over to where he's casually waiting––he's unaware of all the stares he's attracted from fellow students leaving the same lecture as you. Can you blame them? It's not everyday you see a sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition pull up in front of your Friday afternoon lecture. It's not everyday you see Jay Park waiting for anyone outside of his said sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition.

"Hi," you simply let out as you plant yourself in front of him, not sure whether or not to question him why are you here? Surely, he wasn't waiting for you?

"Hi," he smiles down at you. There's a beat of silence. "I was waiting for you."

Bingo.

"Oh. What are you, my chauffeur?" You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Maybe. I am your boyfriend, after all," he says into the air, loud and clear, as if he wanted people to hear. Well that is the point, you suppose.

But still, all you want to do is smack the smirk right off his face.

Before you have time to put your next question into words, he answers it for you.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," he declares as if you have nothing else planned for the day. Well, to be fair, you didn't have anything else planned for the day. Except for your usual library run. But you figure the library could wait.

"Oh, like on a date?" You raise your eyebrows teasingly at him as you get into the car, Jay holding the door wide open for you. "Is Jay Park treating me to lunch as a date?"

Jay fights the scowl (or is that a smile?) growing on his face as he bends down to meet your eye level from inside the car. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. We've got fake lives to live."

"Call me princess one more time and you won't have a real life to live," you flash him a sarcastic smile and slam the door in his face.

Jay meets his own shocked reflection on the passenger's side window.

Cute.

"When you said you were taking me out to lunch, I expected like...I don't know...the diner on campus. Not whatever this is," you mutter to Jay as the two of you are brought to your table by a waitress at an upscale sushi restaurant, one that is undoubtedly out of your usual budget, but for sure an upgrade from your dining hall's pizza you were planning to have. You should've figured as much, the drive here was a little more than out of the way from campus, and who are you kidding, it's Jay Park you're eating with.

You stare down at your current outfit, which consisted of a hoodie you've owned since your junior year of high school and leggings that you threw on without second thought this morning––because you didn't exactly wake up and decide I'm going to go to a fancy sushi bar for lunch today!

"Why are we here anyways?" You ask him when you're both settled in your seats and the waitress walks away after listing the chef's specials for the day.

"Oh, they have killer dragon rolls here, you have to try it," Jay tells you nonchalantly as his eyes rake the menu in front of him, blocking your view of him.

How dense can one be? Your hand snatches his menu as you stare into his unamused eyes.

"No, Jay. I mean, why are we here? It's not like anyone's around to see us put on a show anyways."

"Oh. I figured," Jay's quick to grab the menu back from out of your hands as he continues, "that we should sit down and establish how exactly we're going to deliver this performance. After all, you're stuck with me for the next three months."

Again, smacking the smirk currently resting on his face would satisfy you beyond relief. Just once.

"If I drop out halfway through, do I still get $250?" You tease, leaning back.

"Ha ha. Funny. No," he narrows his eyes at you from across the table. "It's all or nothing."

You dramatically huff to make a show just for his annoyance.

"Worth a try. But sure, let's solidify this. What's the game plan?" You sit up in your seat, leaning over the table as if the two of you were hosting a secret meeting.

"It's simple really," Jay mirrors your actions, face leaning in close to where yours is hovering over the table. "Just pretend to be deeply in love with me for three months, and try not to actually be charmed by my cunning looks."

If someone gave you five dollars for every time you've already rolled your eyes at him today, you wouldn't even need to be in this deal for the five hundred dollars.

"Wow, smooth. Can I just remind you you're the one paying a girl to be in a fake relationship with you because you're just not competent enough to find an actual girlfriend?" You lean back, arms crossing over your figure.

Jay, unfazed, laughs, tongue briefly hitting the inside of his cheek. "Touché."

Your eyes go back to the menu in front of you as a silence falls over the table. Because you're not a loaded trust fund baby who comes to fancy five-star sushi restaurants for lunch on a daily, you don't recognize half of the entree names on the menu. You spot the dragon roll Jay suggested, but seeing that a basic California roll is less expensive, your natural broke-college-student-instincts figure the California roll shall do.

"Okay, in all seriousness," Jay begins as he puts his menu down. "It's simple really. We'll just go on weekly dates and post cute pictures of each other once in a while and a little after three months, I'll just say it didn't work out. I'll give you the five hundo and boom, we move on with our lives."

It's clear Jay's put some thought into this. Safe to say he's put more effort planning this out than the amount of work he's been putting into his classes. Someone's got their priorities straight.

You're impressed to say the least––you figured Jay would just be the kind to go with the flow and wait for the situation to unfold on its own and maybe blow up into flames. But seeing as he was just as serious about winning this bet as you were with making five hundred dollars, your doubts about this entire situation were slowly withering away.

Don't get it wrong, though, you still despise him. To an extent, at least.

"And don't worry about the dates. I'll pay on your behalf, as the loving, doting boyfriend I am," Jay finishes with a wide, cheesy smile you can't help but return a growing smile back at.

"Well then, as the loving, doting girlfriend I am, I shall gift you coffee, breakfast, all that fun couple stuff, whenever you please. Or maybe unannounced, if I'm feeling nice," you figure you should pitch in as much if he's paying for all your dates. And deep down, you find the idea kinda cute. But don't tell anyone that.

"Wow, look at us. We should become Dispatch's couple of the year already!" Jay exclaims, earning himself a small giggle from you, which pleases him to say the least. He thinks that maybe when this is all over, he'll hopefully make a good friend (well, for the second time) out of it.

And you're thinking that maybe the next three months won't be as bad as you initially had thought.

As the two of you delve deep into a debate about who would be the better significant other to each other, the waitress comes over to take your orders.

And because you're laughing and Jay's brightly smiling at you from across the table, you order the dragon roll.

The second time Jay takes you out––this time he gives you a heads up to get ready––it's at a, once again, high-class steakhouse.

The third time, you insist on the on-campus diner that's popular amongst the student population. Partially because you feel bad for the amount of money he's spent on you (even though he couldn't care less), but mostly because if you have to put on another fancy dress to just eat an overpriced meal that doesn't even fully satisfy your hunger, you might lose your mind.

And by this third time, Jake is aware of this newly blossomed relationship.

"Three dates! I didn't know you had it in you, going on three dates with the same girl!" Jake excitedly exclaims as he jumps into the empty spot on Jay's dorm bed and shoves his phone's screen into Jay's face.

The smaller screen displays Jay's most recent Instagram post: an image of you sitting behind your too-small-to-be-this-expensive-steak and smiling right into Jay's camera––a memory that brings a smile to his face:

~ ~ ~

"C'mon! We said Instagram posts would be a part of the deal! How else can we convince people we're dating?" A pout rests on Jay's face as he stares at you from across the table in the middle of the extravagantly decorated restaurant he picked out for your second date. You remember your eyes bulging out of their own sockets when you saw the "$$$$$" rating Yelp gave the place when you searched it up earlier.

"Okay, okay! One picture," you give in, already slightly annoyed that you were here instead of the comfort of your own bed, where you could be rewatching your favorite Netflix show for the third time. But because you made a deal and because you're desperate for money, you had to follow through––so here you were.

You flash an unconvincing smile to Jay's camera, which doesn't satisfy him, to say the least. "At least pretend you're somewhat enjoying this date," he frowns at you.

You sigh, until a thought crosses your mind and a smile grows on your face. "Only if you get me boba afterwards."

He narrows his eyes at you, but then meets your smile. "Sure, whatever you want. But only because I've been craving some mango milk tea lately."

"You're a fruit milk tea kind of guy? Sorry, but I might have to fake break-up with you," you tease as you take a sip of your overpriced drink to go with your overpriced meal.

Jay scoffs, feigning hurt by placing his hand over his heart. "Ouch. But before you break up with me, let me get this Instagram post in."

"Wow. Your priorities are so straight," you roll your eyes at him, eliciting a cheeky smile from him as he watches you through his held up phone screen.

"3,2,1."

"Hey, I wasn't ready! That was like mid-laugh!" You reach over the table to grab the phone, but not quick enough for him to put his phone back into his pants' pocket.

"Nope, nuh uh," he laughs as you quickly sit back down into your seat, not wanting to cause a scene in an establishment as proper as this one.

"It's fine. It's a good picture, you look cute," he casually lets out, unaware of the blush rising to the surface of your cheeks, thanks to the fact that you were suddenly interested in playing with the left-over food on your plate.

"Jay! Delete it, I'll let you take another one," you whine from your seat, imagining just how bad a candid picture of you could be.

"Ugh, fine. Ever so picky." He playfully rolls his eyes at you as he takes his phone out and opens the camera app as you prepare yourself.

"Okay, how's this?" Jay turns the phone screen to you after he takes a few snaps on his phone.

"I approve," you grin at him as he goes through the pictures himself, unaware of the smile growing on his face.

"Okay now delete the first one," you point your finger at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, okay! Bossy," he laughs as he raises in hands in surrender.

When Jay gets home that night, he recovers the image from his Recently Deleted folder, telling himself it's for the sake of the memory.

Obviously.

~ ~ ~

"It's not that big of a deal," Jay mutters from his spot as his eyes go from the Instagram post to his Exile and Belonging in Modern Literature reading that's due tomorrow, bright yellow highlighter in hand. Typically, you'd find the reading buried deep at the bottom of his school backpack. But because Jay ran into you this morning and because he complained to you about the amount of work he's fallen behind on and because you had threatened him to do his work or else you're not going on another date––a fake date that is––with him, he figured he should at least get one reading done and annotated, despite his strong dislike for highlighters (they hurt his eyes, okay?)

What he doesn't know, however, is how your threat was completely full of bluff––but don't tell him that.

"It is so a big deal, for you at least!" Jake hops off the bed and lands on the wooden floors of Jay's dorm room so hard, Jay winces and sends a mental apology to the poor person who lives below him.

Jake suddenly gasps. "I have to meet her, Jay! As your best friend, it's practically mandatory that I meet her."

Jay opens his mouth to protest, but not before Jake interrupts him once again. "Oh! We can bring Sunghoon too, it'll be so fun! The best friends meet the girlfriend."

Jay can't think of anything worst. Jay imagines that bringing you to meet his best friends would just intimidate you out of dating him––fake dating him, that is. Obviously.

He stares at his friend in agony then back at the reading in front of him––the one Jake said he'd come over to help annotate, but the intention completely left Jake's head the second he heard about Jay's recent dating life.

"You don't have to meet her," Jay says pointedly. "Plus, you already know her."

Jake frowns at his friend's excuse. "Yeah, but that was in middle school! This is different."

Jay's hands shuffle through the reading's pages in front of him as he realizes there's no way the two of them are going to finish the assignment at this point. He supposes he'll have to save death by blindness from highlighters for another day and hope you still agree to go out with him.

Jake suddenly gasps in realization.

"Oh my gosh! Childhood best friends turned college sweethearts," Jake says so dreamily, he might as well plaster heart eyes on. Hopeless romantic, this one.

Before Jay can argue, the piercing sound of three loud knocks echo through the small room, followed with a:

"Jay, are you in? It's me!"

Jay stills at the sound of your sweet voice. He whips his head to Jake, who is also frozen in place.

But the widened-eye boy is quick to come to his senses––unfortunately quicker than Jay himself––because the next thing Jay knows, Jake's eyes are lighting up and he's running to the door, ignoring Jay's screaming whispers through this seething teeth that were somewhere along the lines of Jake––stop, I swear to god if you open that door I'm gonna fucking--

"Y/N!" Jake swings the door wide open, revealing an overly excited him and a frozen Jay half-way to the door, as if he was about to grab the very boy welcoming you in. It's as if we're living in a Sims game and the player clicked pause on this very moment.

Jake's eyes are wildly going back and forth between you and your supposed boyfriend, as if he was waiting for Jay to run over and smother you in hugs and kisses...or something couple-y like that. Jay wouldn't know.

"Uh––hi," you're awkwardly standing inside the room now, a relatively large paper brown bag resting in your palms as you look around for a surface to place it on. Jay makes his way to you without a second thought, quickly taking the bag out of your hold.

"You seemed stressed out earlier, so I figured I could bring you some food as a little pick me up. I didn't know what you liked, so I kinda just got a little of everything from the dining hall. Nothing fancy," you're rambling, but smiling so excitedly at him, Jay doesn't know what to say.

Instead, his mouth slightly drops open as he stares at you in awe, mostly because he's not used to being on the receiving end of such spontaneously generous actions––all while Jake's still excitedly looking back and forth between the two of you, as if he was expecting a marriage proposal to come next.

"Oh wow. Thank you. Really," Jay, still touched by your simple act of kindness, softly says as he places the bag on the limited amount of empty space on his desk surface––the rest of it is covered with his untouched textbooks and unfinished assignments. He wonders if you did this out of playing your role or just because you wanted to. He internally hopes it's the latter. "Seriously, you didn't have to do."

"Nah, don't worry. I wanted to," you shrug with such a genuine smile that Jay realizes he actually missed your smile.

Despite having seen you during your brief run-in this morning when you were fetching your morning coffee, Jay realizes he missed you. The two of you haven't been seeing each other recently because of your busy schedule and if Jay didn't realize it before, he's now sure he missed your company and presence around.

Weird.

"Well, you two have fun! Sunghoon needs me for something," Jake suddenly chirps from his place near the front door, halfway through with putting his shoes on already, breaking the comforting silence that fell between the two of you.

Jay frowns. "But you said you were free all da––"

"SUNGHOON IS CALLING BYE!" And before Jay can even register what's happening, Jake's out the door without another word.

"Er..sorry about him, he's...weird," Jay scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his spot on his bed, mentally setting a reminder to yell at Jake later for leaving the two of you alone. Jay doesn't know exactly why, but he's nervous at the fact that you're here in his room. It's not like you two are complete strangers––or whatever you guys were before––anymore. "Good job on your part, though. How'd you know Jake was here?"

"Oh uh, I didn't"," you let out an awkward laugh. "I just felt like doing it."

Heat rushes to Jay's cheeks and he's not sure 1) what this newfound feeling is and 2) how to respond, yet again.

Having expecting you to leave after dropping the food off, Jay's taken by surprise when you take your shoes off and come over to his bed to look at the pile of work he's spread out.

"Is this everything you have to do?" You question the stressed-out boy as you flip through the various assignments, readings, and essays he put off in the past week.

"More or less," he groans. This is no rare occurrence by any means––Jay being behind in his work––but this time, Jay realizes he may actually be in deep shit, considering he has no idea where to begin.

Right as Jay's expecting a scolding from you, he looks up to meet a look of sympathy on your face. "Well, I mean, I'm pretty much done with my day. I can try to help, I recognize some of these readings from last semester."

Jay thinks to himself that the universe has sent him an angel through the form of you.

"Really? Wow, you were't kidding when you said you'd be a good girlfriend," he sends you a surprised look.

"I'm just being nice, Jay. A concept I'm sure you're not familiar with," you remark back at him, causing his forming smile to grow into a laugh.

"I can too be nice! Need I remind you of who's paying you $500, covering all of our dates AND giving you rides to class everyday?" He remarks pointedly at you, a teasing look resting in his eyes as you're reminded of the first of many times he's come to pick you up before class:

~ ~ ~

You're late.

This never happens.

But then again, your life's been a series of unexpected occurrences lately. Such as the fact that you're currently known as Jay Park's girlfriend, for one.

You're scrambling out of bed once you take one look at your phone and realize shit, you're already late for class. Throwing on whatever articles of clothing your eyes land on first, you're already mentally groaning at the fact that you'll have to skip breakfast and run across your campus to get to said class.

Curse your professor for hosting her lecture at the furthest possible building away from your dorm. Curse the architect who decided to make your campus so large.

You're running down the steps outside of your dorm building's doors when you're abruptly stopped by a familiar sounding cough. You look up from trying to gather all your belongings together at once to meet the gaze of the source of the sound––Jay.

"Wow, you're a mess," he smirks as he gets up from the spot on his car he was leaning against to make his way over to you.

"Gee, thanks! Good morning to you too," you flash him a sarcastic smile before your default frown quickly makes it way back onto your face.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here?" He grins as he grabs hold of your backpack to sling it across his own back as the two of you walk towards his car.

"Why are you here, Jay?" you sigh, your sarcastic tone hard to miss.

"To give you a ride to class, of course!" He's beaming at you, as if he's a pre-pubescent teen who just won their first girlfriend a prize from the arcade's claw machine.

Oh. That explains the car, you figure. Deep down inside, you're relieved that you'll no longer be bursting through the lecture hall's doors as a sweaty mess––a result of having to run across campus to get to class.

Determined to not let your satisfaction completely show, you resort with a little smile directed towards Jay as he opens the passenger door for you.

The second your enter Jay's car, the strong scent of coffee hits you, and your attention is targeted at the two small cups of coffee sitting in the cupholders of the car.

"Breakfast?" Jay asks as he enters through the driver's side and reaches into the backseat to whip out a small pastry bag. A small, deliciously smelling, pastry bag.

Okay, well. You suppose you could drop the annoyed act now.

Your eyes widen with joy as you grab the bag from him and open it to reveal your favorite breakfast sandwich. He's been taking notes, you'll give him that point.

"Okay, you win. Thank you," you grace him with a soft smile before taking a bite into the glorious gift in your hands.

"Of course, I was just feeling nice," he grins at you as he starts his car. "But don't get used to it." His tone is serious, but his smile directed towards you says differently.

And the fact that he still showed up to drive you to class the next morning.

And the next.

~ ~ ~

"And need I remind you who has to date your dumb ass for the $500 in question?" Your eyes narrow at the boy who can't seem to get that damn smile off his face.

Jay sticks his tongue out at you, ending the conversation. Really Jay? What are you, five? Well, mentally––probably.

You're looking around his minuscule dorm room for a place to sit down, and Jay can't help but feel embarrassed now that you're here, in his messy single studio room that pretty much reflects how Jay treats every other responsibility of his oh so hard life: neglected.

"Uh...here, you can sit on my bed," Jay immediately offers as he moves to the side to make room for your presence––and it isn't much, considering the university only provided him a twin XL bed which is definitely not built for two grown college-aged kids.

If you told yourself a few weeks ago that you'd be shoulder to shoulder on a bed belonging to the guy you cringed at the very thought of, you wouldn't have believed yourself. You wouldn't have believed yourself if you said you were actually glad Jay let you stay instead of kicking you out after delivering the food. Huh.

Weird.

"You know, this kinda reminds me of when we were kids. I always carried us through those horrible multiplication tests in the fifth grade," you wink at him as you settle in the spot next to him, hands grabbing hold of the papers in his lap.

Jay let out a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "Hey! The twelve times table is hard, okay?"

You roll your eyes at him––a habit of yours he's noticed whenever the two of you are together, but more recently, he thinks it's been more out of fun than annoyance.

He wonders why.

When Jay had first brought up the idea of bringing you as his date to his father's company dinner, you had expected a fairly fancy five-star restaurant with a formal dress code––for you've become accustomed to Jay's lifestyle. Turns out, your expectations can continue to be exceeded. Because what you had expected to be a simple dinner with a few other business men and women turned out to be an entire party, hosted in a hotel whose interior resembled something close to a castle (Or what you assume a castle looks like, as you've never personally been into a castle yourself, but this hotel is close enough).

Your eyes sparkle at the extravagant columns and diamond chandeliers hanging high above you, and Jay smiles at the expression on your face; like a little girl being brought to the amusement park for the first time ever.

"Wow, this is...wow," you mutter as you drink in the scene in front of you: people dressed in formal attire likewise to yours and Jay's, mingling and drinking what you imagine to be beverages that cost more than your entire life's worth.

Jay laughs from behind you, "Yeah the company goes a little...extra when it comes to these company dinners."

You scoff as you look up at him. "Oh really, you don't say?" You look around and you're suddenly aware of the many people surrounding the two of you and the attention you've acquired ever since entering the building.

"Jay, people are staring." You shuffle closer to him, your voice lowering down to a whisper.

"Well, it's not everyday the son of the company's CEO brings his girlfriend with him, so...looks like we'll be the talk of the party tonight. Smiles on," he winks at you, and you just know he's loving the attention the two of you are receiving right now.

"Jay Park? Is that you?" You hear a warm voice call out from behind the two of you.

The two of you turn around to meet the owner of the voice, a middle-aged woman dressed in an evening gown that matches the pattern of high-end brands you've been recognizing ever since arriving.

"Mrs. Lee! It's so nice seeing you again," Jay cheerily addresses the woman as the two of you bow in greeting.

You internally giggle at the thought of your Jay being so picture-perfect in the eyes of his father's co-workers.

"This is Y/N," he continues, his hand finding its way to your back, protectively resting it there as you go to introduce yourself. "My girlfriend."

You swear you feel goosebumps rise from where he's lightly touching you, and more so when he introduces you as his girlfriend.

You tell yourself it's just your nerves. Yes, that's it, you're just nervous. I mean, you're in a room filled with people who could easily pay off all your college loans with just a snap of their fingers, who wouldn't be nervous? Right? Right.

"Y/N! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Lee excitedly exclaims as you turn to Jay with a slightly confused look plastered on your face. He mirrors your expression as he shrugs, moving to stand behind you completely, bringing his hands to rest lowly at your hips.

His hands feel like feathers on the thin fabric of your evening gown, so light, so delicate, as if he's unsure if he's crossing a line. It leaves you wanting more, wanting to naturally lean against him and his warmth. You quick to shake the thought of your head as Mrs. Lee chirps up again.

"Jay's father is always talking about how you've been keeping Jay pleasantly busy nowadays! Good thing too, about time this poor boy settle down for someone as beautiful as you," the woman rambles on as you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks at the thought of Jay talking about you to his dad. If only they knew.

"We should probably go find our seats, I think the dinner is beginning soon," Jay says from behind you, saving the two of you from having to listen to Mrs. Lee's story of how she's known Jay ever since he was five years old and seeing him grow into this mature, loving, young man is so amazing. Oh look! I have baby pictures.

Yeah, he was more so saving himself from embarrassment.

The two of you bid your goodbyes before Jay gently uses the hand on your back to maneuver you through the crowd of socializing business moguls.

"She's not wrong, you know," you feel Jay dip his head so he's speaking near your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe, as the two of you make your way through the large foyer room.

"Hm?" You hum in question, turning your head up just enough to be able to make eye contact with him as he responds to your look of confusion.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, eye contact not breaking once. You freeze in your steps.

You stare back at him in silence. Oh.

Your mind is panicking as it flips through your mental book of responses, unsure of what to say back. But because your mind is cloudy from staring at a put-together Jay in a dark navy suit to match your dress (mixed with the nervous butterflies in your stomach––have they always been there?), the only sound that's able to leave your lips is the small stutter of a:

"Huh?"

Wow Y/N, you had one job. A simple "thank you" could've sufficed! And you went with "Huh"?

You felt like a fifth grader who just learned from a friend of a friend of a friend that their crush likes them back.

"U-um. Mrs. Lee. What she said about you. You look good, really," somehow your nervousness made its way over to Jay now––his eyes flickering from yours to anywhere, anything, else in the room––the awkward tension growing tenfold each second.

Goddamnit Y/N, this is just Jay you're talking to, get a grip.

You're knocked back into reality when he slightly nudges your back to continue making your way to the main ball room, where the dinner is being held.

"Is that a compliment from the Jay Park?" Your smirk can't be seen by Jay, since he's still trailing behind you, but he can definitely hear it through your tone.

"Don't make me take it back," he chuckles, his words felt against your neck, leaving behind a tingly sensation you're not sure why you're feeling. You're glad he's behind you, so he isn't able to see the blush creeping onto your face for the second time tonight.

Jay gives a small nod to the people behind the check-in desk stationed at the entrance as the two of you waltz right into a large ball room lined with countless circular dining tables. So much for a small business dinner.

As the two of you approach one of the tables placed at the front of the room, you notice a familiar figure seated next to the seats reserved for you and Jay.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaims as he gets up from his seat to greet the both of you. "I'm so glad you made it, Jay was so excited to bring you tonight. Deadass would not stop talking about it."

Jay lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a cough and a goose being strangled, his widened eyes warning his talkative friend to just shut up. He's silently cursing the company for always seating his and Jake's family at the same table for these events.

"Aw, is that so? He's lucky he's cute or else I wouldn't have agreed," you grin, winking at your assumed boyfriend sitting next to you.

"Hey, YOU were the one excited to come! I recall a certain someone's face lighting up when I suggested we go shopping for tonight," Jay immediately retorts.

"Only because you were buying," you giggle, causing Jake to laugh as well.

"Damn, Jay. Tough," Jake jokingly adds as you laugh alongside him. The scowl sitting on Jay's face expresses the opposite of what he's feeling right now: warmth filling him up from the sound of your laughter and the image of you getting along so well with his best friend.

"I'm gonna get us some drinks, you two have fun making fun of me," Jay narrows his eyes at the two of you as he gets up from his seat. You bid him off with a smile before turning back to Jake.

"No but really though, this boy would not stop talking about you coming tonight. Then again, he doesn't really ever stop talking about you," Jake nonchalantly says, not knowing how much he was exposing his friend to you right now.

You raise an eyebrow up in response, "Oh really?"

"Seriously! I don't know what you did to him, Y/N, but this Jay I've been seeing recently is new. He complains a lot less about life nowadays, especially on the days he sees you," he leans back in his chair as his comment brings a smile to your face. Little does he know.

You stretch your neck up to find the boy in question and spot him right as he's returning to your shared table, two drinks in hand. You lock eyes with him from across the room and without a second thought, you're giving him a genuine smile that he's immediately returning.

Your heart beats faster at the view.

You wonder why.

It's 3:07AM when you hear the first ding.

You're not 100% sure as of why you're awake at this hour on a Tuesday night––perhaps a combination of your restless thoughts and feelings not letting you sleep plus the typical stress that comes hand-in-hand with the life of a college student.

It's 3:09AM when you hear the second ding, and you brush it off, assuming it was just Heeseung spamming you with memes again––something he does often when he also can't sleep (you found this out the hard way).

It's still 3:09AM when you hear the third ding, and at 3:10AM , you finally reach over and decide to acknowledge the being who's bothering you at this godforsaken hour.

Jay [3:07AM]: Y/N

Jay [3:09AM]: hi

Jay [3:09AM]: r u awake rn

Y/N [3:10AM]: unfortunately so

Y/N [3:11AM]: why are you up

Jay [3:11AM]: come outside

Y/N [3:13AM: jay it's 3am

Jay [3:13AM]: ye and? don't tell me ur a college student with a curfew

Jay [3:14AM]: plus im alrdy waiting for u outside so u have no choice

Jay [3:15AM]: :)

You groan at your bright phone screen currently illuminating your dark dorm room.

You ponder the consequences you may have to suffer tomorrow if you stay up any later than you already have. But considering the fact that you're probably just going to stay awake lying in bed for god knows how long anyways, why not?

(And you would like to point out that this decision has nothing to do with the fact that you haven't seen Jay in a few days and that maybe a tiny, tiny, tiny, part of you may have missed his presence. Nothing.)

And since that logic is obviously valid (you really gotta work on justifying your life choices), you're suddenly grabbing a hoodie from your closet and hoping it'll be enough to keep you, who's merely in an old band t-shirt from high-school and pajama shorts, warm.

The breeze hits your skin the second you open the doors to your dorm's building, and you're met with the view of Jay's sleek, black BMW that probably costs more than your tuition. He waves at you from the driver's seat, motioning for you to get in.

"To what do I owe you the pleasure at this hour," you deadpan at him with a stone-cold voice as you enter through the passenger's side door, hoping your tone was enough to hide the fact that you're giddy at the fact he invited you out at 3AM in the morning. Like a high-school girl sneaking out of her house to meet up with her bad-boy boyfriend that her parents dislike.

The second you enter his car, you're instantly comforted by the warm air blasting through his vents and his playlist softly playing in the background. Jay's pajama pants and messy hair give you more than enough information to know that he probably just rolled out of his own bed as well. You don't know why, but your view: Jay in his oversized hoodie with his unkept hair in front of your dorm building at 3AM on a Tuesday night, gives you comfort in weird ways you can't explain even if you tried.

But it's obviously just your cloudy, 3AM mind not thinking straight. Obviously.

"When I can't sleep, I go on drives around campus. It helps clear my mind," he says, looking over at you to give you a quick smile before starting his car. "Plus, SnapMap said you were still awake, so...figured you'd wanna join."

"Oh so what, you're my stalker now? You're not driving to the woods to kill me now, are you?" You tease, an eyebrow brought up. Jay lets out a laugh from beside you as he begins to drive further into your campus.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," he throws you a wink before reverting his gaze back to the road, mindlessly driving to wherever the road decides to take him.

A comfortable silence falls in between the two of you as Jay continues to drive endless routes around your campus. You look over to the boy driving next to you and take in his features––you don't know what changed, but you no longer feel the same anger or annoyance bubbling within you when you're around him. You're not sure when this changed, but you figure it's just the effect of desensitization. After all, you've been spending so much time with him, you're bound to get used to it. Right?

"Why were you up?" Jay finally asks after a few minutes of just the two of you silently basking in each other's presences.

"Ah, you know. The usual. Endless thoughts running through my mind, stress from school, nothing new," you sign, giving him a soft smile followed with a shrug.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You answer him with silence as you search your head for the answer.

"I don't know. This is kinda weird, isn't it?" You don't know why you get a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, you find yourself rambling on. "If you had told me a month ago that I'd be here driving around with you when it's nearly 4AM, I would've laughed in your face."

Jay doesn't know whether to laugh or scoff. "Is the idea of hanging out with me that unappealing to you?"

You give him a serious look back. "I mean, up until a month ago when you needed me for whatever this game is, you literally pretended I didn't exist."

Oh. Awkward.

You freeze at your own words, mentally screaming at yourself for letting the words leave your mouth. Why, why, why.

"Y/N..." Jay says after clearing his throat after a few seconds of silence.

"No it's fine, it was a joke," you awkwardly cough and direct your attention to anything else around you right now. The view of your campus' buildings zooming by. The clicking of Jay's blinker when he switches lanes. The quiet roaring of his car's engine. The nervous tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride is excruciatingly silent as he exits the main road and into an empty parking lot of some administration building made out of glass that has too many floors for you to count.

You don't know why you feel your heart beating in your throat as Jay puts the car into park––why you feel uneasy. You slightly turn towards him in your seat, hoping to pick up any sign of well...anything from him.

You don't know why you feel a twinge of guilt––it's not like what you said was necessarily wrong. If you were being honest, you were slightly bothered by how the two of you seemed to silently agree not to mention your past all this time. You were always one to seek answers, to seek closure. You couldn't help but bring it up––Jay was your best friend during those years. For him to just wake up one day and pretend you were nothing to him hurt you, and you couldn't help but still wonder what in the world you did to initiate his actions.

"I'm sor–" You're interrupted with his timid voice, as if he was almost afraid to speak.

"I'm not good with people." He's nibbling on his bottom lip, fingers nervously picking at a spot on the steering wheel.

You're opening and closing your mouth, unsure how to respond. You're 100% positive you look like a fish right now. Good for you.

"I don't know why. Jake calls it commitment issues but in order to have commitment, people have to stay in my life. And people just...don't. They're all bound to leave at some point. So what's the point of putting in effort into relationships if they're just going to leave you at the end?"

You're stunned by his sudden confession, not having been prepared for such a heavy topic to arise between the two of you. Up until tonight, your interactions had always been light-hearted and easy––you guys got along well. You didn't know this is how he felt all along.

But you knew where he was coming from.

You knew what Jay had gone through as a child––his mother having left him and his dad when he was young. You remember when your parents had told you the news at the young age of 13, and you remember the pain and sorrow you felt for your then friend. All you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him, but he had already cut you out from his life by then.

"Or maybe I'm the problem. My dad barely acknowledges my existence because he thinks giving me an allowance is all the parenting I need, my friends probably only stick around because they feel bad for me, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the bet, and, fuck, I'm literally known as the campus' fuckboy," Jay continues, falling deeper and deeper into the hole he dug himself.

He hates this, he hates opening up and feeling vulnerable, so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. He doesn't know why he feels comfortable voicing out his fears and worries when he's around you. But he does know it's a new feeling––one he doesn't know how to deal with.

"Jay," you lace your voice with as much comfort as you can provide. None of this is his fault, you want to tell him. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything," he says with a hint of bitterness and you can't tell if it's directed towards you or the topic at hand.

You're completely turned in your seat now to face him––despite the fact that he refuses to meet your gaze, afraid that looking at you is gonna bring out the most vulnerable in him. "You can talk to me. Talking about it makes it a lot easier. I'll always be here for you, as a friend."

Jay doesn't know what it is or why, but something in him snaps at the sound of a certain word falling out of your lips. Friend. Friend.

Friends don't make his heart beat nervously whenever he's around them. Friends don't keep him up at 3AM in the morning, pondering about his feelings for them. Friends don't provide him with this new, warm comfort he's become accustomed to whenever he's around you.

Deep down, Jay knows you didn't mean to add fuel to the fire. But because he's strong-headed, stubborn, and hates how vulnerable he feels next to you, he unleashes his emotions without thinking about the destruction coming along.

"It's none of your business, Y/N. Forget I said anything. You're just a toy for this stupid game and when it's all over we can go back to our own lives and forget this ever happened."

His sudden words cut deep, but they hurt him more than you. The second the words tumble out of his mouth, he's hit with the feeling of instant regret washing over him, and the lump forming in his throat restricts him from finding the right words to take them back.

The silence that falls between the two of you this time is different. It's a cold silence. A loud silence.

Jay feels his walls coming back up around him––the ones you managed to get through––and all he wants to do is apologize but he's terrified. Terrified of seeing your reaction, terrified of losing you again. For the second time.

You tell yourself he doesn't mean it. You tell yourself that he's just enduring more pain that one should ever receive.

But you also tell yourself that this wouldn't be the first time Jay leaves you in the dust.

You tell yourself that you're foolish for ever believing a friendship, or more, could come out of this act at the end. That you're so naive for feeling those stupid, stupid butterflies you've started to notice in your stomach whenever you see, or even think of, him.

"Okay," you begin with a firm tone. You're hurt, but you refuse to show it. You won't let him hurt you for a second time. Not again.

"Just...find me when you need me. As your fake girlfriend or just...me. I'm still here for you," is the last thing you say before un-clicking your seatbelt and leaving his car, beginning your walk back to your dorm hall.

Jay is unsure about many things in life. He's unsure about what he wants to do in the future, he's unsure of where he's going to settle in life, heck, he's unsure about what to have for lunch tomorrow. But he's sure about one thing.

That he's wearing his heart on his sleeve right now, and it's all because of you.

That you've become this new lifeline and he has to choose between holding onto you or drowning.

When Jay wakes up the next morning, his first gut instinct is to get ready to pick you up for class. But today's different. Jay doesn't know where the two of you stand now, especially after last night.

Jay doesn't know how to deal with this combination of unknown emotions he's been feeling lately. They didn't come out of no where, by any means, he realizes. They've been slowly growing over the past month of seeing you so often––like a plant he's been watering overtime, not expecting it to bloom into a flower so suddenly––but he figured it was nothing more than just enjoying the company of a friend.

Until he realizes that the term friend just doesn't suite you anymore––not to him, at least. And that scares him. It scares him that you've made him genuinely smile more in this past month than he ever has in his 19 years of living. It scares him that when he's around you he can't comprehend his own thoughts, his feelings. It scares him that you make him vulnerable, that you've changed him. That you've managed to make the walls that he's spent so long building and polishing to crumble with a simple tap of your finger.

In a perfect world, Jay would have already told you all this––he would be unafraid of how you would react, unafraid of your rejection, unafraid of losing this growing relationship with you. But alas, we don't live in a perfect world. And so when Jay drives to class that day, he drives right past your dorm building.

"Where's Y/N?" is the first thing Jake questions when he enters Jay's car that morning, confused by your absence, having been used to you being in the front seat every morning when Jay goes to give Jake rides to class as well.

"I don't know," Jay mutters, unemotional eyes focused on the road in front of him, not interested in continuing a conversation that involves thinking about you.

Jake hesitates as curiosity gets the best of him. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

Jay's hands tighten around the steering wheel of his car. "Or something. Let's just leave it at that."

There are a few beats of silence before Jake speaks up again.

"Well, I guess this works out because I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jay continues to stare straight ahead of him, focusing on just trying to get by without mentally beating himself up at the simple thought of you.

The simple thought of you and your smile. Your witty remarks. Your stupid eye rolls. Your laughter. Your kindness. So much for not thinking about you.

"I'm calling it off," Jake's words catch Jay off guard.

"Huh? Calling what off?"

"The bet. I'm calling it off. I don't care about the textbook fees I'll have to pay next semester. Look, fight or not, you and Y/N are good for each other, everyone can see it. And I really don't want this to end up being one of those messed up teen TV shows where the girlfriend finds out the entire relationship was based off of a stupid game and then they break up and the boyfriend falls into eternal sadness and regret. And I don't wanna see you sad, dude. So yeah! Congrats," although he's admitting defeat, Jake's beaming widely, just content with the fact that his best friend has finally found happiness through the form of you. "You win."

But Jay feels like the opposite of a winner. Because even though his only intention coming into this was simply winning the bet, his life isn't as simple as it was a month ago. Because he discovered something much more valuable than some stupid textbook fees or five hundred dollars or getting his physics homework done for an entire semester.

Something he's scared he's already lost.

You.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next time you see Jay is at the same time and place as when he first ever appeared to pick you up––at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building home to your awfully long Capitalism in World History class. This time, however it's different.

Because this time, it's one month later, and Jay Park is no longer a forgotten side character in the story of your life. This time, you're frustrated because it's been three days since you've last heard from Jay. And because it's been three days since you've last heard from him, you can't focus on anything else, and because you can't focus on anything else, you're falling behind on every other aspect in your life. Jay's somehow managed to become the center of your life without even having to be present.

Well, up until now. Up until you go down the steps of your lecture hall's entrance and look up to be met with a figure leaning on a car you're far too familiar with. You freeze in your steps as you make eye contact with the boy you've been thinking about non-stop for the past month three days.

Your mind tells you to walk away, to just follow your flight instinct instead of fight, to just go back to your normal life. But here's the thing. Ever since Jay's made his way back to your life, it's been far from normal.

And if you're being honest, you had no interest in going back to your normal life. Normal's overrated anyways. You find your legs bringing yourself over to him, your heart leading the way.

"Hi," you simply say, planting yourself right in front of him.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" You already know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

"Waiting for you," Jay doesn't hesitate in answering you. This time will be different, he tells himself.

"I can walk myself home, thanks," you state, but your actions tell differently, as you make no sign of moving from your spot in front of him.

Jay's mind contemplates telling you everything. About how he regrets that friendship-breaking decision he made that one fateful day in the eighth grade, about his true feelings, about how he first suspected these feelings when he was 11 years old and saw you in your fancy get-up for the sixth grade dance but put it off as a little crush, and about how the same feelings grew into something so, so much more in the present. But seeing that putting all these thoughts into words would involve more than one functioning brain cell (which is all he's convinced he has in the moment, for the view of you staring up at him, looking like that, has his brain short-circuiting), he settles with:

"He called it off. It's over. The bet."

"Oh."

Silence.

Okay, Jay. This is your chance. Say it.

"Is that it?" You lift an eyebrow, awaiting for more explanation. When it doesn't come, you slightly nod and start backing away. "I'll see you around then."

Is that it? Do the two of you just go back to your respective lives now? How can Jay do that, when he doesn't even recall what his life was like before you entered it––and especially when he has absolutely no interest in going back to that life?

Fuck it.

"Y/N!" He stands up straight, a newfound confidence taking over. This time will be different, he tells himself. Because now, he knows what he wants. For sure.

You turn towards him, to see him already making his way towards you, stopping in his steps when he finds himself close enough to you that he can't concentrate anymore.

"I'm sorry for ditching you in the eighth grade. I'm sorry for ignoring you since then. I'm sorry for dragging you into this stupid mess and for pushing you away and I'm sorry for calling you a toy. Because it's far from truth. I like you. A lot. And––and I'm scared. I'm scared of what this means for us, because I just keep messing things up and all I know is that I don't wanna wake up tomorrow and realize you're not in my life anymore and––"

"Woah, woah, Jay. Slow down," you look up at him, the corners of your lips threatening to curve up into a smile. "You're an idiot, you know."

Jay's never really confessed his feelings to anyone before, per say, so he doesn't really know what to expect. But he's watched enough Netflix rom-coms in this lifetime (which is still not that many) to know that hearing the words "you're an idiot" isn't what you're supposed to hear after pouring your heart and soul out. Surely not, right?

"I––I'm not sure how to respond to that," he quietly says, searching your eyes for a sign, for anything. You giggle at his sudden shyness as you grab both his arms and look at him right in the eyes.

"It's okay. I get it, if anything, I'm also scared. But you somehow got me wrapped around your stupid finger, and I hate it," you smirk at him, your hands slowly making their way up his arms to circle around his neck.

Jay's hands naturally fall at your waist as he lets out a breathe he didn't even know he was holding as he returns your smirk. "Well, I could say the same about you. And I also hate it, for your information."

"Hmm, is that so? I guess it cancels out then, right?" You smile at him as he's pulling you in so close, your head turns cloudy.

Jay grins at you, his eyes holding so much joy and endearment as they quickly flicker down to your lips before returning to your own eyes. "I guess this only means one thing then."

"Mm, and what's that?"

And before Jay can answer––and because your life's been anything but normal lately––you make the first move this time, moving your head up to close the small gap between the two of you.

His arms instinctively tighten around you as you capture his lips with your very own, and Jay swears he's about to lift off into space right now. He's on cloud nine, and he makes no plans to touch the ground ever again.

The kiss quickly becomes fervent, all the pent-up tension that the two of you had for one another finally finding its way out, all the words that were previously left unsaid finally expressing themselves. You don't even care if you're being judged by the conservative faculty members of your school right now, or by the looks of fellow students walking past the two of you.

You try your best to keep yourself from smiling as he continues to press his lips against yours, his hand moving to hold your chin, guiding your mouth with his.

Before you find yourself getting carried away, you step back to take a breath, resting your forehead against his chest as his hands rest against your back. He smiles at the sound of you giggling against him.

Jay takes a step back to take one look at you and realizes, in this moment, that change can be good. And he's willing to undergo this change. As long as it's with you.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next morning, you bounce down the steps of your dorm building's entrance to meet the wide, bright smile of your ex-childhood-bestfriend-turned-fake-boyfriend-turned-real-boyfriend waiting for you in front of his car, small pastry bag in hand. You smile back at him.

Jay drives you to class that day.

And everyday after that.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ :

✰ let me know what you think! if u made it til the end, mwah :') <3

[1kook]

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast. 

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.  

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office. 

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5. 

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses. 

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful. 

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.” 

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.” 

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.” 

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking. 

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever. 

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours. 

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together. 

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.) 

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be. 

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you. 

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber. 

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend. 

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary. 

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days. 

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.  

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.) 

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like. 

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites. 

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?” 

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.” 

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind. 

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into. 

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway. 

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin. 

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear. 

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass. 

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you. 

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak. 

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead. 

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat. 

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts. 

They go like this: 

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really. 

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively. 

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once. 

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you. 

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome. 

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve. 

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek. 

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts. 

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.” 

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles. 

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild. 

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums. 

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again. 

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning. 

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.” 

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment. 

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“ 

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him. 

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned. 

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.” 

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.” 

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.” 

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.” 

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“— 

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear. 

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer. 

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole. 

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips. 

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise. 

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath. 

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes. 

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue. 

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger.  “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…” 

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?” 

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles. 

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over. 

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more. 

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them. 

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub. 

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor. 

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face. 

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention. 

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock. 

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand. 

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane. 

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh. 

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be. 

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds. 

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter. 

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic. 

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock. 

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you. 

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip. 

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl. 

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully. 

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin. 

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said. 

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away. 

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself. 

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself. 

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you. 

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once. 

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth. 

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets. 

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever. 

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries. 

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you. 

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question. 

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest. 

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

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

[kxisuke]

Heyyy

Can you do Morixreader when y/n help some doctor (Mori) to find his daughter and when they find her yn was on her way home and someone attack her and Mori help her after one week Mori contact Dazai bc he is yn big brother and Mori wanted to see Yn again and they met again and he told her about real him and she fell even more in love with Mori and they went to port mafia bilding and she started meet other pm members

Thank youuu

first love

pairings: mori ougai x fem!reader

summary: he wasn't what you were expecting, but maybe that's exactly what you needed.

warnings: violence, guns/gunshots [also this is unedited]

word count: 1.6k

a/n: AHA! i finally made a post! really hope you enjoy this anon (i did change it a bit because it was getting too long 😅) and have a wonderful rest of your day :))

“Elise-chan! Where are you?” Your head turns towards the sound of a worried voice, and your eyes scan the crowd. “This isn’t funny! Come out now!” You move towards the man, whose turning circles in the intersection, searching for whoever this ‘Elise’ is.

“Is everything alright, sir?” He turns and looks at you, shaking his head while looking around desperately. You take a moment to study him, surprised at his attractiveness. His dark hair stops just above his shoulders, and he’s wearing a white doctors jacket. He looks relatively young, but you’d have to guess he’s a few years older than you are.

“I lost my daughter! She must have run off somewhere. Here, I have a photo.” He hands you a small photograph, and you take a look. The girl staring back at you makes you doubt for a moment she’s real. Her shiny blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and frilly pink dress make it look like she’s a little doll holding a stuffed bear.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you find her. Where did you see her last?” He slumps over in defeat, letting out a frustrated groan.

“If I’m being honest, I have no idea. I got to this intersection and she had disappeared.” You let a gentle smile rest on your lips, and pat him on the shoulder.

“Well, let’s backtrack and see if we can find anything, okay?” He nods gratefully, and the two of you begin to retrace his steps.

~

“Ah! Thank goodness!” The man, whose name you figured out to be Mori, scoops the young girl up in his arms, showering her face with kisses. She lets out a discontented whine, attempting to push his face away. “Don’t run away from me like that again, Elise. You had me so worried!” His gaze shifts to you, and an appreciative smile breaks out over his face. “And thank you so much for helping me find her, I don’t know what I would have done without you.” You can only nod, your heart is beating into overdrive seeing his interactions with his adorable daughter.

Whoever his wife is must be one lucky woman.

“No problem Mori, I'm glad I could help. I must be on my way though, so have a good day!” You wave at the two of them and head off, back to your apartment not that far away from here. The sky is bright in the city today, and the sunlight is shining in between the buildings. You can’t help but appreciate the beauty of it all.

What you didn’t expect was the car next to you to explode, sending you flying backwards onto the pavement.

Scrambling to your feet, adrenaline courses through your veins as your survival instincts kick in, all the ones your brother instilled in you since you were kids.

“Hey hey, look who we have here! Boss, you gotta come see this.” Two men step around the car, guns in their hands.

“Oh shit, I can’t believe it, we actually scored a big one here.” Your stomach drops when the third man appears behind the two smaller ones, an even larger gun in his thick arms. You dive behind another car as gunfire sprays around you, and you try to focus your breathing, but your mind is spiraling.

Why would these guys be after me? I didn’t do anything wrong!

You can hear their footsteps crunching in the rubble around you, and you press your hands over your ears to block out the gunshots. Your body is frozen in place, fear taking control. A cry slips out of your lips as a strong arm yanks your body up so you’re facing the ‘boss’.

“Please, let me go, I didn’t do anything to you…” You hate to beg for mercy, but there’s nothing you can do in this situation. There are three of them and only one of you, and you couldn’t fight them even if you tried. You aren’t your brother. If only he was here to save you.

“Oh, but you have done lots to us. Maybe not directly, but through that brat brother of yours. Guilty by association, hm?” The man’s breath reeks of stale cigarettes and alcohol, and you try to make space between the two of you, but the other man holding you in place keeps a firm grip on your shoulder. You pray that someone’s around that can save you, because you don’t even want to begin to imagine the things these men are going to do to you.

The gunshot comes from a considerable distance behind you, but you watch as the man’s shoulder recoils back, blood spraying from the open wound that appeared on his shoulder. Dropping you in surprise, the other man goes down quickly afterwards, a bullet embedded in his skull. An arm shoots out and catches you before you fall, sweeping you right off your feet and taking off into a sprint. You look up to your saviour, not expecting to see the handsome doctor you helped earlier looking down at you worriedly.

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you at all?” You shake your head slowly, shock still set in your body. He approaches a black car parked on the side of the road, helping you into the passenger seat before hopping into the drivers seat and starting the engine.

“Oh hey, it’s you again!” You turn at the sound of a childish voice, looking into the backseat, and Elise waves at you with a grin on her cute face. You wave back with a half smile, still slightly shaken up. Mori places a hand on your thigh, pulling your attention back to him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You nod with an appreciative smile. You’re incredibly grateful that he was there to save you, and you can help the butterflies fluttering in your stomach when he looks at you.

“Yes, I am. Thanks to you. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there.” He returns a smile, turning his attention back to the road.

“Anytime. I’m glad I could help.” He removes his hand from your thigh and sticks it in his pocket, fishing around before removing a phone. Dialling a number quickly, he puts in on speaker as the line rings. You watch the screen flash, then someone picks up on the other end.

“I thought I told you to never call this number again.” Your eyes widen in surprise at the sound of your brothers voice over the phone, and you glance at Mori, who chuckles lightly.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it, Dazai. But circumstances make it so I have no choice.” Your brother audibly sighs over the phone, and Mori only smiles, shaking his head.

“What is it this time? Did Chuuya do something stupid and get himself in trouble?”

“Nope. He’s been pretty good at avoiding trouble especially after you left. I wanted to say that you should be careful with that new gang you’re looking in to. They’ve placed quite a price on your head, and are willing to do anything to get their hands on you. Even trying to shoot your sister.” You can hear Dazai abruptly stand from wherever he was sitting, starting to move around, probably getting ready to come find you.

“Where is she? Is she alright? I’m on my way right now.” Dazai’s extremely protective of you, especially because he works at the Agency and you’re susceptible to any attacks as a result of his work. You don’t mind in the slightest, the two of you have always had a close relationship.

But now you figure that there are some things he hasn’t told you.

“It’s fine, she’s with me right now. Don’t worry about it, she’ll be back at your place by the end of the day.” Movement stills on the other end of the phone, and you wait for your brothers response.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her about it when I get off work later.” The phone hangs up abruptly, and Mori chuckles to himself.

“Ah, your brother is the best.” You can’t help the question that spills out of your lips.

“How do you know him? How did you know who I was?” Mori turns the car into a back parking lot, stopping it.

“Well, y/n, that’s a long story. I’ll have to tell it to you one day, maybe over coffee? But your brother used to work for me, in the Port Mafia.” The name rings a million bells in your head, and recognition flares in your eyes.

“You’re Mori, Mori Ougai, right? Boss of the Port Mafia? Dazai showed me pictures of you before.” Your eyes light up in admiration and your heart skips a beat being in the car with someone you’ve secretly admired since you were younger.

“That’s me.” He gestures to the car door, and you step outside. The tall building in front of you seems to stretch infinitely in the sky, and Elise grabs your hand next to you, pulling you towards the door. Mori laughs from behind you at her gesture and falls into step next to you.

“If you don’t mind, would you like to stay a while? Maybe you could meet some of the other members and possibly accompany me for dinner?” Your heart flutters at his request, and you can’t help but accept.

“I would love to.” You can see the excitement in his eyes as he looks ahead, holding the door open for you.

“Consider it a date.”

[strawbearisamu]

eggs and other love stuff // 卵や他の愛のもの [summer collection: vol 1]

timeskip! sakusa kiyoomi x f! reader

genre: fluff

summary: your high school friend/crush moves in next door!

note: first of the summer collection even if it doesn't really have summery vibes bc i said so >:( also i have a slight affinity for naming fics w sakusa food-related

you don't expect to see him here. in this place. at this time.

you soak deeper into the bath, head submerging underwater as you let the warmth of the water engulf you. a slight ringing in your ear, only amplifying the thoughts that fill your head.

you reminisce the time, the early evening sky soaked orange, as you call him into an empty classroom, arms outstretched and in your hands, a letter with your heart poured out, and a bag of cookies you spent all night burning and remaking.

you notice him eyeing the little plaster on your pinky, and you make an effort to draw his attention back to you. "kiyoomi, i've liked you for a long time now..." you pause, his face is unreadable, but at least it hasn't contorted into a scowl. "i just hope you'll accept them."

sakusa does nothing but nod, a satisfactory response, he takes both in one hand and walks away, but not the response you wanted.

you were third years then, with much more important things to worry about, perhaps thats why you still thought about it so often, about him so often, wondering what it meant, what it could've been. you pushed against the sides of the tub, pulling your body out even as the water resisted it, goosebumps rising at the sudden coldness of the air.

you hear the doorbell ring and sigh, wrapping a towel around yourself, you trudge to the door, annoyed.

"it's me." you freeze. "kiyoomi."

"b-be right there, what do you need?" you shout at door, scrambling to your dresser to throw some clothes on.

"i um, i need some eggs," you could almost sense the slight hesitation in his muffled voice.

"alright i'll be a sec!"

you finally open the door, the sudden wind minty on your freshly damp hair, you're met with the same dark eyes that always held your gaze captive, the same mask he had always adorned and hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts- the only notable difference you thought, but it was summer now, he couldn't always wear a jacket.

"eggs right?" you call out leading him into the cramped kitchen area of your tiny studio apartment. you crouch down and open the door to the mini fridge, the cold blue light reflecting in your face as you reach in and pick out a few, "how many do you need?"

"actually...i couldn't get my stove to work, i was wondering if you're okay with me cooking here tonight." he peered down at you still crouching, his face as unreadable as always.

"sure, anything for an old friend." you swore you saw his eyebrow twitch, "but you'll have to make me some too," you said cheerily.

he rolled his eyes in feigned ignorance, smiling under the comfort of his mask, "we'll be having tamagoyaki," he paused as he plopped a heavy bag of something on your counter, "and mackerel."

"gasp kiyoomi, you know i never eat fish," you pout.

his arms crossed, "it's good for you, and you'll like the way i make it," because i've made this recipe a hundred times pretending it was for you, he thought, smiling again before playfully calling you over, "don't think you're getting off little brat, whip the eggs."

and just like that you guys fell into an easy rhythm as if you were never apart.

that was 3 months ago, your little late dinner rendevous became a daily occurence, and soon enough,

 in your balcony that was definitely too small for even two standing people, orange rays illuminating his curls, his face bathed in that sunset glow, he handed you his letter which contents' held his whole heart, and cookies he spent all night making, you eyed the small plaster on his pinky and raised a brow. "just to show you i remember," he explained, you smile, "y/n i've liked you for a long time now, i just hope you'll accept me."

"do you wanna know a secret?" omi whispered as you peered up at him, tucked under some blankets, cuddled in each other's embrace, the muted voices of some tv show filling the backdrop of your attention.

"sure omi."

"i had eggs that day, 2 full trays too," he looks straight into your eyes, no sense of guilt in his voice.

"you..." you pout.

"my stove was perfectly fine, perfect even. just needed a reason to see you again, you were always on my mind...plagued every part of me y/n."

"are you calling me a virus?" you pouted again this time he brushed his thumb over your chin, soon both hands caressing your cheeks as he took your lips in his, a long stretch of silence followed, only the soft sounds of some audience laughter and the two of you. you push against his chest a little, pulling away, once again finding yourself lost in the stars of his eyes, "and it never felt like home without you omi."

"but also you owe me a bunch of eggs."

he laughs kissing your nose and pinching your cheek, "and i'll spend the rest of my life paying you back."

sol’s comments: tonight was so nice and chill u guys, i swear i was in the flow for a solid 4 hours just getting stuff done <3 also i'm taking requests now but i'll probably put up the rules tmr since it's getting late :> hope yall have a great day or night or whatever besties 🥴💗

click me for the m.list! // summer collection

each and every reblop is appreciated ☻ (+ free hugs)

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[9tzuyu]

who you are

note: mostly made this for my own comfort, but i do hope it helps and/or comforts any fellow lesbians :]. i normally wouldn’t specify sexualities on any characters because obviously everyones going to feel differently about different characters, but like i said this started off for my own comfort bcs i was hashtag goin through it.

prompt: basically just reader struggling to accept themselves as a lesbian. sorry non lesbians :(

warnings: heavy heavy heavy on internalized lesbophobia. talks about comphet (trying to force oneself to like men) and wanting to be ‘normal’

thank u ally for proofreading <3

not tagging anyone just because i don’t want to trigger :[

. . .

you were wrestling with something, natasha could tell that much. your eyebrows were drawn together, eyes lost in a gaze. it wasn’t until the third time tony called your name when you snapped out of it.

“sorry,” you mumbled.

“well are you going to answer the question?”

natasha noted the tapping of your foot, knuckles cracking beneath the table. it was obvious you weren’t in the right state of mind to be answering any kind of question. foolishly, no one else picked up on that except for the redhead.

“what was the question?”

tony sighed, his patience growing thinner by the second.

“i asked if your report was done. it was supposed to be handed in three days ago, remember?”

your foot tapped faster.

“yeah- yeah, i’m almost finished.”

it wasn’t like you to be so late on things like this, you were usually on top of everything.

“you told me you would have it ready by today. this is the fourth time this month that you’ve done this. you’re dragging your ass and the rest of us are getting pretty tired of it.” a collective agreement could be heard from the team. all eyes were on you waiting for a reply.

if you hadn’t felt anxious before, you most definitely did now.

“it won’t happen again.” tony blew off your statement and rolled his eyes. you shifted uncomfortably, nauseous from all the negative attention.

you couldn’t help but wonder if they knew. maybe that’s why they were being so short. it made sense after all.

natasha tried making her way towards you, but she was stopped by steve’s hand on her shoulder. you were well past gone by the time she managed to scramble away from him.

your back pressed flatly against the wall, tears steadily falling down your face. hatred was all you felt. hatred towards yourself. 

why couldn’t you be like the rest of them? why didn’t you belong? 

whywhywhywhywhywhy

granted, you knew there was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay. that was never the issue. the issue was the fact that it was yourself, that there was no possibility for you to ever be attracted to men. 

you were sure it would be a phase, that it would pass, that you would forget about it and never think about it again. you tried to go on dates, tried to form a relationship, tried to enjoy having sex with them. none of it worked, no matter how much you forced yourself to believe it would. 

all you could think about was how sick and disgusting you felt. and the shit representation didn’t help your case at all. the media hardly ever portrayed a good, well-rounded lesbian character that wasn’t problematic, over-sexualized or dead. 

the media only reiterated the fact that you were supposed to want men. you were supposed to find the right guy and fall in love with him, call him your husband and start a family. 

a knock on your door pulled you away from your thoughts. you shuffled your way back to your feet, drying your eyes for good measurement. 

natasha stood patiently, eyes drilled on your doorknob. if it were up to her she’d be picking your lock, but she knew that would be crossing a boundary. she went to knock again when your door swung open. 

“hi nat.”

“hey,” her voice was soft. “you’ve been crying...” she pressed her hand against your face, thumb rubbing the top of your cheekbone. 

you shrugged. it wasn’t like you could deny her, your red eyes had already given away the truth. “yeah.” 

she hummed, “may i come in?”

you hesitantly moved out of the way to let her through, cursing at yourself for finding her so attractive. 

“you know you can talk to me, you always do. why haven’t you said anything?” natasha moved to sit on the edge of your bed. “you’ve grown quiet these past few days, it’s not like you.”

“i’m just tired, worn out from work i suppose.”

she nodded, though she knew better than to believe such a lie. natasha could always tell when you were lying, something you both hated and loved at the same time. 

you sat next to her after a friendly tap on the bed. her gaze made you feel like a little kid in trouble. it was as if she already knew and was prepared to say the worse.

“i don’t believe you.” 

“well, i don’t know what you want me to tell you, nat.”

“how about the truth?” you scoffed purely out of defense. “and what good would that do?” 

“it might relieve whatever you’ve got on your heart.” you met natasha’s eyes and your lip immediately began to quiver.

“i’m afraid you won’t be able to look at me the same.” 

she softened, taking your hand in hers. “there’s nothing in the world that would change the way i see you.”

“you say that now, nat, but-”

“i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.” 

you thought about it further. natasha had never been one to judge someone based on the things they’ve been through, the things they’ve done or the things that make them who they are. she saw people the way they were, nothing more, nothing less. 

but what if she didn’t like you or see you the way you were? you weren’t sure you could handle the aftermath if that were to be the case. it was bad enough you struggled to accept yourself, natasha’s disapproval would only break you. 

“i’m a lesbian.” a lump in your throat began to form and you found yourself crying once more. “i tried so hard, i tried everything i could think of, but i can’t, i don’t like men.”

you coughed, choking on your words. 

“i don’t understand, nat! i don’t understand why i can’t be normal. why can’t i do it? if i just liked men i would be okay, i would be fine, i would be fucking accepted.” you paused for a breath of air. “i just want to be normal.” 

natasha was taken back by your confession. it was nothing near what she thought it would be. she expected you to tell her you’d been stressed or that you were scared for the next mission. 

“i’m sorry, i-”

the spy quickly cupped your face, tilting your chin upwards as a hint to meet her eyes again.

“look at me, c’mon, hey. you have nothing to be sorry for, don’t ever think that you do. i love you for who you are. there’s nothing wrong with being a lesbian. you’re normal, you’re who you are, who you’re supposed to be. you are real. i promise you are.” 

without thinking you leaned into natasha, clinging on to her for dear life. her arms found their way around your body, hands rubbing your back up and down. 

“you should be proud to be who you are, not ashamed. and if you’re not proud of yourself then please know that i am. i am so, so, incredibly proud of you, sweetheart.” she finger brushed your hair as you continued to cry. “shhh, you’re alright baby. i’m sorry you’ve been dealing with this alone.”

“it’s okay nat.” she gave your body a small squeeze, frowning at your response. “you shouldn’t have to feel like you need to force yourself to be someone or something you’re not. you don’t deserve to struggle so much for your own acceptance as a lesbian.” 

you nodded, though she could tell you weren’t fully convinced. “the only opinions you should care about are your own and the people you love and cherish. i know that’s easier said than done, but it’s true. besides, what you told me just gives me something more to love about you.” natasha finished off with a delicate kiss to your forehead. 

“this means a lot to me, nat. thank you, for everything really.” 

“oh sweetheart i should be thanking you for trusting me with such an important part of you are.” you shied away, a growing smile forming on your face as you leaned into her shoulder.

natahsa smirked, clearly aware of the effect she had on you. “who knew you could be so cute?” 

“nattttt.” 

she rose her hands up in surrender, “alright, alright. i’ll stop on one condition.” 

“what’s that?” you mumbled. 

“would you let me take you out for dinner tonight? i’ll show you just how beautiful it is to be with a woman.” 

“yeah, yes- yes please, that’s fine.” natasha could’ve sworn she heard your heartbeat quicken and she had to refrain from letting out a small laugh at your flustered state. 

“we need to clear that little mind of yours. i’ll be back here at seven on the dot, okay?” a pat on the leg caught your senses as you watched her stand. the last thing natasha heard was the soft “okay” fall from your lips as she walked out the door.

you’d never been happier to be a lesbian in your life by the end of the night.