#if you’re thinking of exceptions you need to cut that shit out NOW

[mw00nie]

extra credit

you first see him on a tuesday.

10 a.m. political science. long, cold, fluorescent-lit misery. you only took it because the professor was rumored to be easy. except, twist, he now isn’t, and your attendance is locked in for the semester. brutal.

you always sit in the back. fake typing on your laptop, tabs full of shit you’ll never afford, pretending you’re gonna relisten to the lectures on your phone. spoiler: you won’t.

so, naturally, you start people-watching. it becomes your sport.

guy in front of you sexting someone at 10 a.m. on a tuesday? disturbing. girl next to you writing color-coded notes on an ipad that costs more than your rent? pretentious. two girls giggling over tinder and ranking guys like they’re judging cattle at a state fair? iconic.

then you see him.

front row. every single class. white hair, slightly too long, messy like he cut it himself or forgot to. hoodie with a bleach stain on the sleeve. glasses he keeps pushing up with his middle finger. backpack covered in pins that look suspiciously like anime.

the kind of guy who probably owns a sword. the kind of guy who turns in essays early and apologizes for formatting mistakes. the kind of guy who definitely gets hard when girls yell at him.

you watch him answer a question once, voice so quiet, you can barely hear it from your seat, and it hits you like a truck:

this guy is such a loser. i want him in my bed immediately.

you don’t do anything about it at first. just move closer, row by row, like a predator slowly circling.

he doesn’t notice. he’s too busy actually doing the readings.

every class, he types with those long fingers, hunched over his laptop like he’s coding the next great american novel. he frowns when the professor gets something wrong. he wears wired headphones. wired, for god’s sake.

you can feel it building in you every time he pushes his glasses up. every time he mutters a “yeah, i think that’s actually covered in the assigned paper by—” before trailing off, embarrassed.

you want to climb into his lap and ruin his academic career. you want to know if he’s as nervous with his hands as he is with his voice. you want to see how red his ears can get.

three weeks in, you finally snap.

you catch him right after lecture, halfway to the vending machines, headphones still hanging around his neck. his fingers are tangled in his hoodie strings, backpack slung over one shoulder, like he barely remembered to exist outside of class.

he stops in his tracks when you say his name.

“satoru gojo, right?”

he blinks. once. twice. like you’ve just pulled the fire alarm in his brain.

“…yeah?”

he’s taller than you expected. awkwardly so. broad shoulders slouched like he’s trying to make himself smaller. glasses sliding down his nose. messy white hair that looks like he towel-dried it and called it a day. he smells faintly like clean laundry and caffeine. you hate how much that does to you.

you lean in a little. tilt your head. smile like you know something he doesn’t.

“you’re smart,” you say. “painfully. the kind of smart that corrects the professor mid-lecture and then apologizes for it.”

he flushes, stammers. “i– only if they’re, like, wrong? sometimes?”

adorable.

you step closer. just enough to watch his pupils blow out a little. he’s blinking at you like he’s buffering.

“i need help studying,” you say sweetly. “and you seem.. helpful.”

his mouth opens. closes. “uh– sure?”

“great.” you tilt your head. “library at seven?”

he nods, slow and stunned.

you smile wider. “and if you’re good,” you say, voice low enough to make him swallow, “i might let you kiss me.”

you don’t wait for a response. just turn and walk off, backpack slung lazily over your shoulder.

when you glance back, he’s still standing there. frozen, mouth slightly open, entire brain fried like a cheap motherboard.

you laugh to yourself.

this is going to be so much fun.

he shows up to the library that night. you weren’t sure he would. he seemed like the type to overthink it until he got hives. but there he is 6:57, laptop in hand, adorned in what looked like a bunch of different stickers. the etsy type.

“hey,” you say, flashing a smile as he slides into the seat next to you.

he nearly fumbles his bag off the table. “hey,” he replies, voice quiet. “so… what’re you stuck on?”

you don’t even bother pretending to know. just hand him your notes with a shrug and start watching him instead.

he’s so earnest. brows furrowed. lips pressed together. squinting at your writing like it personally offended him.

you’re supposed to be learning about political theory, but all you can think about is what his mouth would feel like on your neck. how red his ears would get if you sat in his lap right now and pulled on his hoodie strings.

by the end of the night, he’s explained two chapters, drawn a chart, and unconsciously flexed his hands at least a dozen times.

you lean back, stretch, and smile at him sweetly. “you’re a really good teacher.”

he turns a little pink. scratches the back of his neck.

“…thanks?”

“don’t thank me yet,” you murmur. “you’ve got office hours again tomorrow.”

he swallows.

you don’t kiss him. not yet. you let him walk home in a daze, probably questioning whether he imagined the whole thing.

you make him wait.

over the next two weeks, you meet him three more times.

once in the library, once at a coffee shop, and once after class in an empty study room.

every time, he gets a little bolder. not much. just enough for you to notice.

his knees brush yours under the table and he doesn’t pull back. he teases you when you mess up a definition. he looks you in the eye a little longer than he did before, until you’re the one who has to look away.

“you’re learning,” you hum one night.

he just shrugs, smirking softly.

“you said if i was good, i’d get to kiss you.”

his voice is low. deeper now. like he’s starting to realize he has some kind of effect on you.

you smile, sweet and lethal.

“maybe next time.”

you invite him over on a thursday night.

you claim it’s for a “final review session” before the quiz. you text him your address, and tell him to wear something comfortable.

he shows up in another hoodie and sweatpants. his glasses are clean for once. his hair still a mess, but in a way that almost looks intentional.

you pretend to study for fifteen minutes.

fifteen.

after that, you crawl into his lap, straddle his legs, and tilt his chin up.

“still wanna kiss me?”

he doesn’t answer. just leans in and kisses you like he’s been thinking about it for weeks.

and god, he’s so warm. so eager. he kisses like he means it, messy and deep, hands hovering just shy of your waist like he’s scared to hold on too tightly.

you grind down once and he chokes on a moan.

“shit– wait–”

you pull back and grin.

“don’t tell me this is your first time.”

he goes red, but his eyes are sharp now, glinting under the low light of your room.

“…why would you think that?”

you laugh, breathless. “because you’re a loser. you raise your hand in lectures. you wear anime pins. you fumble your phone when i look at you.”

“so?” he murmurs, licking into your mouth, voice rough. “i can still make you cum.”

you blink. stunned.

he grins, slow and devastating. glasses slipping again, hands sliding up your thighs.

“wanna bet?”

you don’t even make it five minutes into the “study” session before he’s got you pinned to the couch.

your laptop’s open on some political science quizlet. long forgotten.

your panties are shoved halfway down your thighs, hoodie thrown on the floor somewhere, one of his hands gripping your jaw while the other is buried deep inside you.

“what happened to all that attitude?” he mutters against your mouth, voice low, breath warm. “thought you said i was a loser.”

you gasp, try to buck your hips, but he holds you still. his fingers curl just right and your entire spine arches.

“fuck– satoru–”

“say it again,” he growls, licking into your mouth like he’s starving. “say i’m a loser.”

you whimper. “you’re– fuck, you’re not–”

“hmm?” his thumb circles your clit, lazy and cruel. “what was that?”

you choke on a moan. it’s disgusting how wet you are. slick dripping down his knuckles, pooling under your ass on the cushions.

he’s still got his glasses on. slightly fogged. his hair’s messier than usual, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. he looks deranged. brilliant. completely in control.

and all you want is more.

“please,” you breathe. “just– fuck me– please–”

he pulls his fingers out and sucks them into his mouth like he’s tasting you.

“you ask so nicely,” he hums, grinning like the devil. “but i think you need a little warm-up first.”

you expect him to drop to his knees.

you don’t expect him to pull you by the hips and throw you over his face.

he lays back on the couch, one arm hooked under your thigh, and drags you down onto his mouth.

“oh– fuck–”

his tongue is obscene. messy. insistent. his nose brushes your clit every time he moves, and he groans like he’s the one getting off.

you’re gasping, grinding against his face, grabbing fistfuls of his hair like a girl possessed.

he pulls back once to breathe and licks his lips, eyes half-lidded, voice wrecked.

“sweetest i’ve ever had in my life,” he mutters. “could stay here all night.”

you cum on his tongue twice.

by the time he lets you down, your legs are jelly. your voice is half-gone. and he’s hard. painfully hard. under his sweatpants.

“c’mere,” he mutters, voice rough. “you owe me something.”

you drop to your knees without hesitation.

he’s thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, and way too big for the loser nerd image he gives off in class.

“god,” you whisper, wrapping a hand around it. “you’ve been hiding this from me?”

“was waiting for you to find out,” he says, pushing his glasses up, totally smug.

you stroke him slow, spit-slick and teasing, then lean in and drag your tongue up the underside.

his breath stutters. “f-fuck–”

you take him in deep, hollow your cheeks. he groans and grabs the back of your head.

“god, you’re good,” he mutters, hips twitching. “knew you’d suck cock like a slut.”

you whimper around him, moan at the taste, the weight, the way his thigh tenses under your hand.

he fucks your mouth slowly. not too deep, not yet.  just enough to make your eyes water.

when he pulls you off, you’re panting, spit dripping down your chin.

“get on the couch,” he says, voice dark. “hands and knees.”

you scramble up, bend over, and he groans.

“fuck– look at that.”

he presses himself up behind you, drags the head of his dick through your folds, and leans forward to whisper against your ear.

“you’re gonna let the virgin loser fuck you like this?” he murmurs, kissing your neck.

“yes,” you whine. “please– satoru, i need it–”

he thrusts in all at once.

you gasp, your eyes rolling back.

he’s so deep it makes your stomach flip, one hand digging into your hip while the other presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down.

he starts fucking you like he’s been waiting years. filthy, relentless, fast and hard and deep enough you can barely think.

“not such a brat now, huh?” he pants. “still think i’m just some nerd?”

you’re moaning, crying out, face smushed into a pillow as he hits your g-spot with every thrust like a bullseye

he leans down, wraps a hand around your throat, and groans when you clench around him.

“tight little pussy,” he mutters. “knew you’d be like this. couldn’t stop thinking about it. mmph– gonna ruin you–”

he pulls out and flips you over ignoring your whine of protest. pushes your legs up to your chest, and drills into you.

you cum again, shaking, sobbing into his mouth as he kisses you through it.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, sweat on his brow, pupils blown.

“you want it inside?” he grunts, hips stuttering. “want me to fill you up?”

“yesyes– fuck, please–”

“god, you’re filthy,” he groans. 

he cums hard. deep, slow thrusts, hips grinding into yours, breath hot against your throat as he empties inside you.

you’re both panting. ruined. bodies tangled on your shitty dorm couch.

he pulls out slow, watches his cum leak out of you, and smirks.

“extra credit,” he says, breathless. “you definitely passed.”

[jibitzlesscrocs]

rebel!matt sturniolo x goodgirl!reader

warning: angst , blood , bruised knuckles

bruised

in which, you clean matt’s bruised fists

It was past midnight, and the whole house was dead quiet. Your parents were asleep, alarm set, windows locked, phones charging in that exact, obsessive way they did everything. It was like living under constant surveillance.

Except tonight, your window latch clicked.

Soft, careful. But you heard it.

You was already up, socks sliding on the hardwood, by the time he pushed the window open just enough to slide inside, awkward and familiar all at once. Matt landed with a thud that made you wince. “Matt,” you hissed. “Are you trying to get caught?”

He just exhaled sharply through his nose and leaned against your desk like he didn’t feel the blood dripping from his fingers. “Wasn’t exactly my cleanest exit,” he muttered, yanking off his jacket with a pained grunt.

You closed the window fast and locked it behind him. “You’re bleeding. Again.”

He looked down at himself like he was only just noticing. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you said, already dragging your stash of bandages out from under your bed. “Matt, what happened?”

“I’m good. Really.”

“Why are you always lying to me?” you shot back, eyes narrowing as you crouched in front of him.

He didn’t answer right away. Just flexed his fingers like they were stiff, like it hurt to even exist in his skin right now. “Because if I told you everything, you’d stop letting me come here.”

“That’s not true.”

He finally looked at you. Tired, bruised, still stubborn as hell. “You don’t know what’s out there. You’ve been locked in this perfect little glass box your whole life.”

“And you think I want to stay in it?”

That made him pause.

You pressed a damp cloth to the cut above his eyebrow and he flinched, sucking in a breath between his teeth.

“Sorry,” you said.

“No, it’s…whatever. Do your thing.” His voice dropped a bit, softer. “You’re good at it.”

You worked quietly for a few seconds, cleaning his face. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

Matt gave you a sideways glance, dry. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have a group project option when it comes to getting jumped in alleys.”

“Matt.”

He sighed, head tipping back and jaw tight. “It was just a fight. I lost my temper.”

“You always do.”

He let out a short laugh. “I know. I’m aware. Don’t need the reminder.”

But it wasn’t said with annoyance. Just… resignation. Like he knew the world expected him to explode, and he was too tired to argue anymore.

You reached for his hand, slowly. His knuckles were a mess. “This is bad.”

“Yeah, well, the other guy looks worse. I think.” Then, quieter: “Didn’t really stick around to check.”

You glanced up. “You’re gonna get arrested one day.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

You froze. “Wait, what?”

He gave your a lopsided grin, bloody and smug. “Kidding.”

“…are you?”

He shakes his head, snickering. You bandaged his hand, gentler now. “I hate that this is normal for you.”

“I hate that this is normal for you,” je shot back. “Lying to your parents just to help some kid sneak into your room in the middle of the night.”

“You’re not messed up.”

He looked at you like he didn’t believe that. Not even a little bit.

“I come here because it’s the only place that doesn’t feel like total shit,” he mumbled, finally. “That’s it.”

It came out too fast, too sharp, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

You didn’t say anything, just moved closer and started wiping the blood off his collarbone. you place a feather-light kiss on the cleaned skin.

“You don’t even flinch anymore,” he said, almost like he was talking to himself. “You used to look so scared of me.”

“I was never scared of you. I just didn’t know what to do yet.”

He looked at you—really looked. “You do now?”

“Not always,” you admitted. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

He stared for a long second, then blinked, looking down. “…You should.”

“But I won’t.”

Another silence.

“…Thanks,” he said finally, voice hoarse.

You nudged his shoulder. “Get on the bed. You’ve got a bad cut on your side.”

He groaned. “You love bossing me around.”

“You love needing it.”

He cracked a grin at that—worn out, eyes sleepy now that the adrenaline was fading. “Alright, alright. Go easy, Nurse.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was a smile tugging at your lips. He was bleeding, stubborn, emotionally constipated, and kind of reckless—but he was here. Always found his way back to your window, no matter how broken he was.

And that had to mean something.

taglist: @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeelvur , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli

MAI’S STORE

first oneeee also i didn’t read this through

mwah

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I post about house stuff there’s always some well meaning people and the occasional vindictive shit head who thinks we didn’t have our home inspected before we bought it.

We did. It passed the private inspection we paid for in order to get our mortgage and two inspections done by the city.

The problem with my house is that it was owned by a landlord who did all kinds of illegal and sketchy shit to maximize capacity and resale value but also would require you to take down walls to find. And for those of you unaware, they don’t let you walk around with a saw and cut holes to inspect behind the drywall.

The shithead hid things behind fake walls. Literally. He put a bunch of chemicals and paints into a crawl space then drywalled over it. There is drywall on top of drywall (or there was before we took it down). He put carpet over the asbestos tiles—which is technically fine. It’s safer to seal asbestos away than remove it… except he also covered the drain for the house so the basement floods and then the carpet rots and in turn starts breaking down the asbestos tiles, making them into a hazard. He built the basement himself so that the drywall was sitting on the concrete slab—something we couldn’t see without removing the trim—causing them to wick moisture from the floor and rot until we had black mold everywhere.

The electric parts that were visible were all up to code, but again, anything that could be hidden was done so, hiding shit like a dishwasher that had been hot wired into the wall through a light plate fixture under the sink. Or the 240v socket that used to power an electric stove which had been pulled through the floorboard to power the tumble dryer. (Or the gas stove that we swapped for electric because it kept trying to kill us and then we realized he’d run a gas pipe from the water heater to power it. The plumber swore a lot about that one when he finally realized that one.)

Plumbing all looked good until you realized some of the new pipes were just pvc cut to go around the old lead pipes. Something you couldn’t see unless you got up close and personal during the inspection, and we’re talking up on a ladder jiggling the pipes around which is also generally something don’t let you do. Not to the extent we would have needed to.

The man was unhinged. And there’s very little we can do about it because we signed an “as is” thing on our mortgage thinking most of the repairs we’d need to do would be minor. Only to find out the house which looked fairly modern and well kept on the surface was actually a fucking Saw trap. And now because of all the shit we’ve uncovered, we have to fix it before we can sell it because no one in their right mind will buy a house with declared asbestos—even predatory developers hesitate on that one.

So if we’ve got to fix this place up, we’ll fix it up for us because god knows, even if we managed to sell this place, we can’t afford the mortgage rates right now. (And while yes, apartments are an option, they make my MCAS a lot less stable because you can’t control the shit your neighbors use, nevermind things like a shared laundry facility where everyone wants to smell like “a spring summer breeze” that to me smells like death by fragrance induced anaphylaxis.)

So yes, we’re stuck with this place. For now. A place we had inspected multiple times and were still let down by the reality that people hide things and will do so in the most imaginative ways possible if it means they can make a profit.

The furnace dying the instant we moved in wasn’t a good sign, but shit happens. That’s home ownership. The gas leaks we had last week? Also home ownership. It had passed yearly inspections up until now. Appliances break down and require maintenance, especially gas ones. In an ideal world we would have gotten another five years out of the furnace, but alas, it chose death so we had to yeet it.

So, yeah, if you’re the shithead currently going off in my inbox about “stupid people winning stupid prizes” I’ll take that apology now.

[hoshifighting]

rival fashion designer!minghao

— synopsis: where minghao flexes his fashion awards whenever your brand competes against him during fashion week. — WC: 3k — WARNINGS: explicit language, smut, reader uses a transparent clothing (just like rihanna in oscar x swarovski), oral (f. receiving) ENORMOUS DICK!MINGHAO, slight face slap, mentions of choking on a cock, penetrative sex—or trying to.

look, you weren’t trying to start beef with minghao. you don’t even know why the dude hates you so much. okay, maybe you said one thing about his fall line looking like it got snatched off the clearance rack at an IKEA. but that was a year ago. and also? you were drunk and kinda bitter ‘cause your show got bumped for his stupid avant-garde puff-sleeve renaissance clowncore shit.

but now, every fashion week is like a personal vendetta for him to humble you. you’ll be vibin’, sipping your overpriced latte in the designer lounge, and this man will just stroll in, decked out in some vintage runway piece that costs more than your annual budget, flashing that “i won best emerging designer again” smirk like it’s a fucking weapon. and then he’ll throw some casual shit like:

“oh, y/n, is that your collection over there? i thought they were setting up for the kid’s line showcase.”

[...]

so this year, you swore you wouldn’t let him get in your head. you’d play it cool, professional, unbothered. except you walk into your studio late one night, the day before your big runway debut, and this man is just there. sitting on your worktable. wearing a pearl-studded harness and leather pants so tight it should be a crime.

you freeze, halfway through the door, holding the iced coffee you begged your intern to grab five minutes before starbucks closed. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

minghao barely glances up from his phone. “your assistant let me in.”

traitor.

“why?” you slam the coffee on the counter, praying your voice doesn’t shake. the audacity of him just existing in your space is enough to make your blood boil.

he stands, slow as hell, like he’s got all the time in the world. he’s tall—annoyingly tall—so when he steps close, you’re immediately at a disadvantage. but you refuse to back down.

“just wanted to check out the competition,” he says, eyes flicking lazily over the chaos of fabric swatches and half-finished sketches strewn across the room. “cute line. very... simple.”

“fuck you, hao,” you snap, crossing your arms. “it’s called ‘minimalism.’ not that you’d know anything about taste.”

he laughs, soft and low, the kind of sound that creeps under your skin and lingers there. “oh, i have plenty of taste. i just don’t need to keep it basic to get attention.”

and here’s the thing: you hate how much he gets to you. he’s a smug asshole with an overinflated ego, but he’s also stupidly talented, and you can’t ignore the fact that his lines always sell out in under a day. or how his press coverage makes yours look like a local craft fair feature.

but what really gets you is how hot he looks right now, with his ridiculous cheekbones and the glint of that tiny silver chain peeking out from under his collar. it’s disgusting. you hate it.

you’re about to throw a cutting remark his way, something about how he’s overcompensating with all that jewelry, but he beats you to it.

“you know,” he murmurs, stepping even closer, “you’d look good in my designs.”

your brain short-circuits. “excuse me?”

“if you ever want to elevate your style...” he trails off, dragging his gaze down the length of your body like it’s a runway.

“you are so full of shit,” you hiss, but there’s no heat behind it, because your stupid traitorous brain is suddenly imagining what it’d feel like to have his hands on you.

he smirks, all teeth and danger, leaning in so close you can smell his expensive cologne. “maybe. but you’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”

you don’t answer.

[...]

the next morning, you’re running on zero sleep, fueled by pure spite and caffeine, but your runway show? flawless. models everywhere, hair spray choking the air, seamstresses practically sewing on skin ‘cause the deadlines were that tight. and you were doing a thousand fucking things at once.

fixing a hemline here, shouting at a makeup artist there—“no, not clean girl aesthetic, we’re going full grunge today, wake up!”—all while struggling to get yourself into the swarovskied transparent gown you planned to wear for the night.

no bra, because tits were the least controversial thing in fashion. and the way the crystals draped over your skin looking likew pure art. nipples out and proud, paired with modern curls swirled to perfection and makeup that screamed chaos-but-make-it-glam.

by the time your collection hit the runway, your nerves were shredded. but watching the models strut, each piece shining under the lights... fucking worth it.

and then, the finale: your dress sweeping dramatically across the stage as you closed the parade. you bowed to the crowd, letting the cameras and whispers soak in every inch of you, and as you turned to leave, you felt it.

minghao’s sharp eyes.

you caught his eyes just as they traveled the length of you—from the swirl of your hair, to the unapologetic sharpness of your nipples under the crystals, to the shimmer of your dress, down to the towering heels on your feet.

you just smirked to yourself as you headed backstage, knowing full well your collection didn’t just crawl under his skin this time. it slithered under his flesh, wrapped tight around his ribs, and squeezed.

[...]

minghao’s models stormed the runway like it was their goddamn birthright. and of course, you watched. no designer worth their silk ignored the competition, and minghao wasn’t just competition, he was a walking masterclass in making everyone feel like second place.

he closed his show with his usual flare, stepping out like he already knew the applause was his. fast-forward two designers later, and the nominations for the fashion academy awards started rolling in. you didn’t have to look to know minghao had already claimed half the early awards.

you watched him backstage through narrowed eyes as he balanced four trophies—two tucked in his arms, two in his hands—posing for a picture with that smug-ass smile. you knew that pic was already blowing up on his Instagram. your jaw clenched, nails digging into your palm as the last nominations were announced.

and then, plot twist of the year:

your name came up five times.

designer of the year: you.

new vision in fashion: you.

collection of the year: your brand.

runway innovation: your brand.

showstopper of the year: your brand.

walking out with those five heavy-ass awards in your arms? victory tasted better than champagne. your models and team practically swarmed you, hyping you up ‘cause they knew how much blood, sweat, and tears went into this collection.

but what you really wanted... minghao. definitely minghao. minghao, in your line of sight. because after all the times he flaunted his wins like a smug bastard, you wanted him to feel this.

and lucky for you, fate delivered.

you spotted him in the back hallway, leaning against the wall, scrolling through his phone. clearly, he hadn’t heard the last nominees. his head snapped up when your heels echoed through the space.

“oh, hey, hao,” you called out, voice sweet as honey but sharp as glass. you stopped just short of him, shifting the five trophies in your arms so they pressed against your chest. the weight of them pushed your tits up just enough to catch his eyes.

“looks like I’ve got... a plus one on you this year.” you smirked, shaking the awards a little for good measure, the motion making the crystals on your dress catch the dim hallway light.

his eyes flicked down—brief, subtle, but not subtle enough—and then back up, his expression neutral, but you could feel the shift in his ego.

“congrats,” he said, the word clipped like it physically hurt him.

“thanks, babe,” you purred, turning on your heel with a sway of your hips. “see you next season. maybe.”

and with that, you left, letting the click of your heels carry the weight of your victory.

[...]

days later, you were lounging in minghao’s big leather chair, legs crossed up on his table, showing the expensive ass high heels you always wore. his assistant had let you in with barely a question, and you weren’t one to waste an opportunity.

when he finally walked in, his eyes narrowed immediately. “what the hell are you doing here?”

“relax,” you drawled, leaning back like his office was a spa. “your assistant said I could wait. guess they like me more than you.”

he folded his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “didn’t think you’d show your face here after the other night. thought you’d be busy polishing all those trophies.”

you grinned, slow and smug. “oh, i polished them. just thought i’d stop by to see how you’re doing. must be hard, you know—losing.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. instead, he stepped closer, looming over you. “you done?”

“not even close,” you said, standing up to match his energy. you stopped just shy of his chest, tipping your chin up. “but don’t worry, hao. i’ll let you borrow a trophy sometime if you really need the validation.” you patted his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “you know, i like your attitude.”

you raised an eyebrow. “yeah? you must, considering how much you stalk me every season.”

“maybe that’s why we should work together.”

you laughed, loud and sharp, tossing your head back. “oh, that’s rich. you? work with me? what, so you can take credit for my ideas and call it a ‘collaboration’?”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “i’m serious. we’d be unstoppable.”

for a second, you almost believed him. “unstoppable, huh? what makes you think i’d even want to work with you?”

“because you like the challenge... admit it. you love it when i push you.”

“you’re intolerable.”

“and yet,” he murmured, stepping so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, “you haven’t left yet.”

your laugh came out breathy this time, your pulse quickening as his hand grazed the curve of your hip. “you think I’m staying here for you? please. your assistant let me in, remember?”

“sure,” he said. his thumb traced slow circles against your side, almost lazy. “but you’re still here.”

you were about to snap back with something cutting, something to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, but then he tilted your chin up with two fingers, his gaze locked on yours like a predator sizing up prey.

“stop thinking,” he whispered, leaning in just enough for your lips to almost touch. “you might actually enjoy yourself.”

his lips were soft and plump, moving against yours so fucking good that felt unfair. his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped.

your hands found his chest, the fabric of his shirt warm under your fingertips as you pushed him slightly, breaking the kiss with a smirk. “you’re bold, i’ll give you that.”

“you’re still thinking,” he teased, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back.

your hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping just enough to feel the flex of his muscles. you threatened to sit on his table.

his eyes widened slighty, his hands immediately grabbing your ass to lift you up, making you yelp. “don’t!”

“what? scared i’ll break it?” you teased, wrapping your legs around his waist.

he places the needles that were spread lazily on the table, inside of a box. he turned, his grip firm as he carried you a few steps and sat you on a nearby armchair.

“there were needles on that table, genius,” he scolded, his tone sulky but his fingers tracing slow lines along your thighs. “you’d be bleeding before I even got started.”

“aww,” you cooed, dragging your nails down his neck. “you worried about me, hao?”

“no,” he muttered, kneeling, dipping his head to kiss along your jawline, his teeth grazing just enough to make you arch towards him. “just don’t want to ruin my night with a trip to the hospital.”

your laugh turned into a soft moan as his lips found the spot just below your ear. “guess you’re not as heartless as you act.”

he pulled back slightly, his smirk sharper than ever. “you talk too much.”

you pulled him in for another kiss, your tongues colliding this time. when you tried to take control, tilting your head for a deeper angle, he pulled back just enough to make you chase him.

minghao’s hands were firm on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin like he wasn’t about to wreck you in the middle of his office. his eyes dragged down, lingering on the way your skirt was pushed up, the space between your legs bare and unapologetic.

he clicked his tongue, a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “no panties, huh?” he said. “came here like this?”

“what can I say?” you shot back, shifting slightly so his hands pressed harder against your skin. “i had a feeling you’d end up on your knees.”

his smirk deepened, his fingers tightening slightly as he leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath. he pressed your legs further onto the armrests, spreading you wider, his hands splayed like he wanted to leave imprints.

his tongue flicked out, close enough to make you tense—but he didn’t touch you. instead, he pulled back, his eyes locking with yours as a smirk tugged at his lips.

he leaned in again, his tongue brushing so close you could feel the warmth from his breath, but once again, he pulled back just as you tilted your hips forward.

“hao..” you warned.

“what?” he teased, his lips hovering over your folds.

your hands gripped the armrests as you glared down at him. “if you don’t stop playing, i swear—”

he cut you off with a broad, strong lick, dragging his tongue from your entrance, through your folds, and up to your clit in one unbroken suck. your head fell back as a gasp tore from your lips.

“that shut you up,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dipped lower, his tongue swirling around your entrance before moving back up. “needy much?”

“shut up and do it again,” you shot back, your voice sharper than the way your thighs trembled under his grip.

and he did the same. your clit throbbing at the rough skin of his tongue, making you melt on his armchair, he smiled at the sight, he knew how a good head felt after months dealing with needles and sparkly cloths.

his lips latched onto your folds, sucking them into his mouth before he pulls back just slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, teasing strokes. you let out a pornographic moan, before your clap a hand on your mouth, remembering the team outside the office. he chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still. his lips wrapping around your clit again. this time, he sucked it fully into his mouth, his tongue flicking against it as his eyes flicked up to yours.

“you’re so good at this, hmm—fuuuck!” you said, your nails drowning in the leather of the armchair. “you must’ve practiced on a lot of other girls, huh?”

his eyes narrowed slightly, and his teeth grazed your clit just enough to make you wwhimper. “jealous?” he asked, his voice smug, though he didn’t stop the relentless motion of his tongue.

“please,” you shot back, though the way your breath hitched betrayed you as he did a zig-zag on your bud with the tip of his otngue. “you’re better when you’re silent.”

he smirked against you, his lips curving as he pulled back just enough to speak. “then shut me up.”

your fingers tangled in minghao’s hair, tugging him closer, harder, until his face was buried against your pussy. his groan vibrated through you, desperate, and his hands clamped down on your thighs to steady himself as you rolled your hips against his mouth.

“that’s it... mhmm, just like that...”

he obeyed, his head bobbing as his tongue slid against you in broad, wet strokes, his lips sealing around your clit every few seconds to suck, deep and rhythmic. the wet, obscene sounds filled the room, and your nails scraped lightly against his scalp as you held him there, guiding him exactly how you wanted.

the heat in your core coiled tighter, and you barely had time to register your orgasm hit.

your back arched, your mouth falling open as moans spilled out shamelessly. your hips rolled against his face as you came, and minghao didn���t stop—not for a second. he worked you through it, sucking and licking as though he felt your climax before you did.

he only pulled back when you began to squirm, your breath coming in sharp gasps as overstimulation took hold. his lips and chin were slick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glinting as he looked up at you.

“had fun?” he asked, sarcastically.

you gave a breathless laugh, your chest heaving as you leaned back in the chair. “you talk too much for someone who just spent five minutes swallowing my pussy.”

his smirk widened, and he stood, his hands braced on the armrests as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. “and you talk too much for someone who’s about to beg me to fuck her.”

your gaze flicked to his lips, and then lower—to the bulge straining against his pants. “big words,” you said. “let’s see if you can back them up.”

his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he walked you back toward the desk—no needles this time. you didn't even had time to register what was happening before your skirt was pushed higher, his fingers brushing over your thighs as he settled you on the edge.

his hand worked his belt, the clink of the buckle making you clench around nothing.

“this isn’t gonna be quick,” he said as he freed himself, the sheer size of him making your breath catch. it was big both in length and girth.

you swallowed hard.

“relax... mhmm”

he teased your entrance with the tip, sliding it slowly against you, and the stretch was immediate, even as he slightly pressed in. your breath hitched, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as he pushed forward, achingly slow, giving you time to adjust.

“ngh—fuck!” you gasped, your voice breaking as he filled you inch by hard inch.

“breathe,” he murmured, his tone gentle despite the tension in his body. mouth glued on yours to make sure he feels your puffs of air.

“trying”

he paused, his hands tightening on your hips as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. “you’re okay,” he whispered. “just breathe for me.”

you hiccuped, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as your body struggled to adjust.

“there you go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw as he waited “good girl. just like that.”

you exhaled slowly, your body relaxing slightly helping him to slid in further, the fullness stealing the air from your lungs.

your hands gripped his arms, your nails digging into his skin as he finally bottomed out, his body pressed flush against yours.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight as he buried his face in your neck. “you’re—so fucking tight.”

you swallowed hard, your head tilting back as you tried to catch your breath. “you’re—so fucking big.”

he pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours as a smirk tugged at his lips. “think you can take it?”

your breath hitched, and you nodded, your hands sliding to his back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “try me.”

minghao hips pulls back just an inch before thrusting forward experimentally. the sound that left your lips was somewhere between a moan and a strangled gasp, your nails biting into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

he paused, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes flicking over your face. “yeah, knew that’d happen.”

“don’t—” your breath hitched as he moved just slightly, a tiny shift that made you clutch at him even harder. “don’t fucking smile like that.”

his laugh was quiet, he leaned down, his forehead brushing against yours. “why not? you’re almost cummin already.”

“i’m not—” the words caught in your throat as he slid just a little deeper, your body trying desperately to adjust to his size.

“not what?” he asked, his tone playful as he stilled again, waiting for you to catch your breath.

“not—cumming” you managed, though your voice shook with the effort of speaking.

“hmm.” his thumb grazed your clit, circling it trying to soothe your nerves. “then why are you holding on to me likethat?”

you glared at him, though the effect was probably ruined by the way your mouth fell open with a gasp as his thumb pressed down just slightly harder.

your body tensed as he began to move again, sliding in slowly, each inch dragging against you in a way that made your head fall back. the wet squelch of your body adjusting to his girth filled the room, obscenelly.

“shit,” he muttered, his voice tight as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you steady. “you’re so—tight. feels like you’re trying to squeeze me out.”

“maybe i am.”

he laughed softly “you’re all talk,” he murmured, his thumb still circling your clit. “that pussy is begging for me.”

“hao,” you whispered, your hands clutching at his arms as your legs tightened around his waist. “i—fuck, i can’t—”

“you can,” he said softly, his lips moving against your neck. “breathe for me, baby. you’ve got this.”

you exhaled shakily, your chest rising and falling against his as you tried to relax, tried to let the tension in your body melt away. his thumb pressed a little harder against your clit, insistent, coaxing pleasure to override the discomfort.

“that’s it,” he murmured, his voice soft as his arm tightened around your waist. “just like that. let me in.”

your head fell back, your eyes fluttering shut as he finally slid deeper, his hips pressing flush against yours. the sensation stole the breath from your lungs, and your fingers dug into his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor you.

“you okay?”

you nodded weakly, your hands sliding up to grip his hair as you whispered, “move.”

he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “not yet.”

your eyes snapped open, frustration bubbling in your chest as you glared at him. “hao—”

“relax,” he murmured, his thumb circling your clit again, making you cry out slyly. “i’m not gonna ruin you all at once. gotta make sure you can take it.”

“i can,”

“we’ll see,” he said, his tone smug as he finally, finally pulled back, his cock dragging against you.

“hao, just—fuck me already.”

his laugh was quiet. “you’re not ready for that yet, look—” he roll his hips, making you hiccup again. “but don’t worry—I’ll get you there.”

“how about you?” you ask, feeling your orgasm building up as he circled the thumb faster, your hips rolling slightly, weak, like the cock inside you was to heavy to make you roll them freely.

“i can get off just by looking at this pretty face...” he slaps your cheek weakly, twice, making you squeeze around him. “listen to what i'm telling you… you're still going to model for my brand.” he chuckles.

“i’d rather choke to death than work with your brand.”

“why don’t you choke on something else, then?”

[love--and--venom]

Protective Instincts: Enhypen

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, allusions to drugging in Sunghoon's part, if I missed anything lmk

Protective Instincts Masterlist

Lee Heeseung

No matter how busy you were, you and Heeseung always made time to see each other at least twice a month. You have been friends for as long as you remembered, having grown up as neighbors. Your moms would gossip over tea while the two of you got into as much mischief your baby brains could think of. Not much has changed, except now you were the ones gossiping instead of your moms.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Heeseung held the door of the cafe open for you. The sidewalk bustled with pedestrians rushing to get their weekend errands done.

“Of course. Make sure you do the same.” You always ended your hang-outs with the same good-byes and a tight hug. You parted ways, walking in opposite directions to get back to your respective apartments. Barely five minutes passed since you left the cafe and yet a FaceTime call from you interrupted Heeseung’s music.

“Wow, did you miss me that much already?” He wasn’t looking at the phone or he would’ve seen the fear clearly written on your face.

“Heeseung.” His eyes snapped down to you, immediately concerned by the tremor in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s a man following me,” you whispered, as if the man would be able to hear you from several feet away. Heeseung stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning him some glares.

“What?!”

“He was outside of the convenience store a couple doors down from the cafe. After I passed him, he looked at me weird and now he’s behind me.” 

“Don’t go home. Start looking around one of the stores, I’m coming to you,” Heeseung instructed while turning on his heel and speed-walking in your direction.

“Okay, uh, I’m in that boutique with the grandma curtain dresses.” You passed that store all the time but never went in because of the gaudy patterns on the window displays. You greeted the cashier, moving to the back of the store to hide.

“Can you see him?”

“He’s looking in the front window.” Heeseung ground his teeth, pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk. A lot of people jumped out of his way when they saw his barely-contained anger. The little bell above the boutique’s door jingled in his ear. “Oh fuck, he just walked in.”

“Stay calm and don’t hang up. I’m almost there.” You shrunk behind a rack of clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. But there was only one other customer in the store, so your chances were slim.

“Hi,” an unfamiliar male voice cut into your conversation. “What are you up to all by yourself?”

“O-Oh, um, I’m just looking for a gift for my mom,” you lied, wide eyes flicking between your phone and the stranger. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, obviously not listening to what you were saying. “How old are you?”

“19.” Another lie. Maybe if he thought you were too young he’d leave you alone.

“So you’re inexperienced, then. Why don’t you let an older man show you how it’s done.”

“It? N-No, no thanks.” At this point, Heeseung borderline sprinted toward the store. 

“No? Why not?” The door slammed open, whipping the poor bell around and startling the cashier. The man ignored it, staring down at you, leaning closer and dropping a hand to your shoulder. “I can promise I’m way better than that little boy you were with before. Where is he, anyway?”

“Behind you,” Heeseung growled. 

“Oh, shit,” the man swore after he turned and caught sight of Heeseung’s icy glare. You have never seen your best friend this pissed off. He shoved the man’s chest, making him stumble and give just enough room for Heeseung to pull you into his side. His arm draped over your shoulders, hand hanging loosely in front of you. His relaxed posture was a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes and voice.

“Did you need something or were you just trying to intimidate my girlfriend?” You flushed at that, glancing up at him, but he kept his steady gaze on the man. 

“Relax, I was just making small talk.”

“By asking a 19-year-old girl if she wants to have sex with you? Fuck off, you’re lucky if I don’t call the cops,” Heeseung sneered, continuing your lie with ease. This grabbed the attention of the cashier. She discreetly pulled out her phone, whispering into the speaker with a hand over her mouth.

“Seriously, kid? You should really be thanking me.” The man held up his hands with a shrug. “I was offering to show her how to make a guy cum. That works in your favor.” You squeaked, ducking under Heeseung’s arm to hide behind him, gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. He didn’t seem to mind, as he reached back to rest a comforting hand on your hip.

“So you’re a pervert and you have no shame, got it,” Heeseung scoffed with a click of his tongue.

“See, I knew you weren’t a real man. You should–”

“Excuse me, sir,” a woman with sharp eyes and a neat bun interrupted. “I will only say this once: get out of my store.” 

“What?!”

“You are harassing my customers. Very young customers, at that, with extremely lewd comments,” the shop owner scolded the man, arching an immaculate eyebrow. “If I need to repeat myself, you will be leaving in handcuffs.” The man bristled, bowing his head and scurrying out of the store.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sighed in relief but kept your shaky hands wrapped around Heeseung’s arm. 

“It was no trouble at all. You kids have a good day, now.” As quickly as the owner arrived, she disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. You sat in silence until you realized that Heeseung was still gently brushing his thumb over your hip.

“Hee, you called me your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t give you any time to dwell on it, kissing your temple then your cheek and tugging you back out onto the sidewalk. “I’m walking you home.” Your mind reeled as you tried to wrap it around this new information and the sudden affection. You grinned and squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”

Jay Park

You were at a party for one of Jake’s friend’s birthdays. Jay dragged you along, claiming that he needed you there for moral support since the only people he’d know were the other Enhypen boys. Yeah, moral support my ass. Not even a minute after you walked through the front door, Jay veered off when another girl waved him over. So now you were forced to awkwardly mingle with a growing pit of jealousy in your gut. Luckily one of the little cliques adopted you into their circle, easing your nerves a bit. An hour into the party, you managed to break out of your shell and were now laughing loudly with everyone.

“Oh, hey Jay,” one of the guys in the group greeted the idol as he approached. 

“Hey,” Jay greeted flatly while shoving himself between you and the girl to your right. You furrowed your brows at the odd change in behavior. He was normally very polite, opting to gently maneuver you to the side so he could stand next to you. He didn’t even say ‘excuse me’ to the poor girl. You followed his uncharacteristic glare to a guy leaning on the arm of the couch. You thought he said his name was Dan or something similar. 

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, looking back up to Jay. 

“I’m good.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and you knew he was lying.

“No, you’re mad about something. What’s going on?” He didn’t answer. Jay's fiery gaze didn’t waver, even when someone tried including him in the conversation. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.”

“Y/N,” a shorter girl with cute round glasses grabbed your attention. “You have to come with us next time we go out! There’s this amazing cafe and the cutest…” Jay tuned her out while moving a hand to your lower back, which you didn’t question. He usually used your body heat as a way to ground himself. He was visibly angry because didn’t like the way Dan was eyeing you up, and he definitely didn’t like that Dan wasn’t backing down while he was standing right next to you. The last of his patience ran out when Dan fucking smirked at him. Oh, so he knew what he was doing. Knowing that only pissed Jay off more.

“What about you, Jay?” The short girl looked at him expectantly. 

“Hm? Yeah, sure.”

“It wasn’t a yes or no question…” She trailed off when you signaled that he was in a bad mood. The conversation carried on like normal for approximately 15 seconds before Dan chimed in.

“Hey, Y/N, has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Absolutely the fuck not. Jay’s hand slid from your back to your hip, digging his fingers into you and pulling you flush against his side.

“I tell her every day,” he replied before you even had a chance to process the intent behind the compliment.

“Oh?” Dan cocked his head to the side. “I never asked, but how do you know each other?”

“We’re–”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jay interrupted you. Every ounce of your willpower went into keeping your composure. You didn’t know why Jay would lie about dating you, but you trusted him. There must be a reason, so you let yourself relax into his side. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” Everyone watched the exchange nervously. Between Dan’s arrogance and the edge to Jay’s voice, a thick tension hung in the air. 

“So why’d you leave her alone to talk to Yunah?” You were curious about that, too, to be perfectly honest.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she was asking for advice. She and the other Illit members want to try rapping in some of their upcoming songs,” he explained. Now you felt a little silly for being so jealous earlier.

“Suuure. You two were just a bit close, in my opinion,” Dan shrugged while looking over at you. Jay’s whole body tensed up.

“I don’t give two shits about your opinion, so stop eye-fucking my girl before I make you,” he snarled, surprising everyone with his threat. Your jaw dropped as you stared at his profile. Under the anger, you could see something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Jay,” you whispered gently, placing your hand over the one squeezing your hip like a lifeline. He finally looked at you, and his resolve shattered at the genuine concern on your face.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the front door. “Sorry, Donghyun.” He apologized as he passed the host of the party. You waited until you left the apartment to pull Jay to the side. He dropped your hands to curl his fists by his sides, refusing to look up from the sidewalk.

“What happened in there, Jay? I’ve never seen you so angry before,” you asked while uncurling his fist, tracing over the lines on his hand with your fingertips. You missed the shiver that went down his spine at your touch. 

“I’m sorry, I just,” he interrupted himself with a frustrated growl. “I hated the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me? And why would it piss you off that much?”

“Y/N, he was basically undressing you with his eyes. I hated it cus I could tell that he was thinking about you like you were a prize,” he gestured with his unoccupied hand during his rant. 

“I didn’t even notice.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I came over. God, the thought of someone else wanting you like that just–”

“Wait,” you cut him off, holding both of his hands in front of him. Jay still avoided eye contact, so you had to duck your head down to force him to meet your eyes. “What do you mean ‘someone else’?” His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to let that slip.”

“Is that why you get moody after I go on dates?” You struggled to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t laugh–”

“I’m not!”

“Y/N, seriously.” You took a deep breath to compose yourself at the desperation in his voice. “Yes. I’m sorry I never told you, I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship since you obviously don’t feel the same.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot,” you giggled behind your hand.

“What?”

“Jay. I have been flirting with you so much that it grosses Jake and Sunghoon out. How have you not noticed?” He stared at you in disbelief. You had to hide your face in his shirt to smother the cackles that would’ve definitely gotten you some dirty looks from other pedestrians. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you before chuckling at his own obliviousness.

“Oh. Good, so I wasn’t lying. You’re mine.” His chin rested on the top of your head as he gently swayed back and forth.

“I have been for a while, Jay.”

Park Sunghoon

A long-standing and well-loved tradition in the Enhypen dorm was their monthly movie nights. It started with just the boys, but then Sunoo introduced you to the group. You bonded with everyone very quickly and after a few months, you were allowed to join their sacred movie tradition. Not like anyone, especially Sunghoon, minded you being there. Actually, Sunghoon found it to be the perfect opportunity to get closer to you, metaphorically and physically. Everyone knew his excuse of “sharing the blanket” was just that: an excuse. Well, everyone except you knew and it drove Sunghoon crazy.

The issue with tonight’s movie night was the sudden inclusion of two of Heeseung’s friends. Most of the other members haven’t even met these guys. How the hell were they allowed to crash their movie? To make matters worse, one of them stole both Sunghoon’s last bottle of tea and his spot on the couch next to you. He had to sit in the recliner. All alone. Without his favorite blanket- your blanket- but at least you didn’t share with the new guy. He either didn’t notice or blatantly ignored your discomfort, which was unsurprising for a guy named fucking Tyler. 

So Sunghoon sat there, seething and barely watching the movie, glaring at Tyler from the corner of his eye. You were, arguably, having a much worse time than Sunghoon. You had to deal with this guy’s annoying flirting and inability to accept “no” as an answer. You’ve already told him three times to take his arm off your shoulders. He listened, sort of. He technically wasn’t touching you, but his arm rested on the back of the couch directly behind you. He gave you the worst feeling in your gut. He was definitely not to be trusted with your drink. Your knees ached from curling yourself as deep into the corner of the couch as possible. You needed a break.

“Where are you going?” Tyler asked when you stood. The others turned to you, making you even more nervous than you already were.

“Bathroom,” you mumbled and fled down the hall. Heeseung sighed before addressing his friend.

“Man, you need to chill. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“What?” Tyler scoffed. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Heeseung’s other friend insisted. “Just relax, bro. Now’s not the time.”

“Yeah, whatever. There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s available.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Even the movie was quiet. Six sets of eyes stared at an unbothered Tyler. While the others were visibly pissed, Heeseung and his other friend just looked disappointed. You hesitantly reentered the living room and now Sunghoon was actually happy that he got booted to the recliner, since it was between the hall and the couch. As you passed by, he grabbed your hand and tugged you down to sit sideways on his lap. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Just stay here. Please,” Sunghoon whispered. You certainly weren’t about to argue, shifting to a more comfortable position with your arms hanging loosely on his shoulders and your cheek resting against his temple. The tension slowly melted from Sunghoon’s body as he wrapped his own arms around your waist.

“Okay, seriously?” Sunghoon tightened his hold on you when Tyler spoke up. 

“Is there a problem?” The movie went forgotten in the background. Everyone’s attention was on you, Sunghoon, and Tyler. The latter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and relaxing into the couch.

“Nah.” He shook his head with a huff. “She could have just told me she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off.”

“She is sitting right here,” you interrupted. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. You should have stopped the first time I asked.”

“Oop, get him!” Jake encouraged from where he was laying on the floor. 

“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to stop?!”

“Because I told you! I said to stop touching me before the movie even started,” you snapped, back going rigid as you glared at him. One of Sunghoon’s hands slid to your lower back to rub gentle circles on your spine. The other stayed on your thigh, and your hand dropped to his.

“We also told you to stop,” Heeseung’s other friend pointed out. 

“Oh, come on–”

“No, Tyler,” Heeseung cut him off. “You’ve changed ever since you joined your bullshit frat house. I’ve been trying to give you a chance to prove me wrong, but this is it, man.”

“What are you saying, dude?”

“I think it would be best for you to leave. Neither of us want to be associated with a guy that harasses women.” Heeseung gestured between himself and his other friend. 

“Harass, seriously? Whatever. I didn’t realize you guys were such pussies,” Tyler ranted while making his way out of the dorms. The front door slammed shut, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry about him, Y/N. He wasn’t always like that, but I can’t keep holding on to the past. He’s a lost cause at this point,” Heeseung apologized, rubbing his temples to stave off his growing headache.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I’d really like to get to know you all, so I hope I can get a second chance.” 

“You’re cool, man,” Jake reassured him with a pat to his knee. “You tried to step in. That’s proof enough that you’re a good guy.”

“Can we get back to the movie now?” You giggled at Ni-Ki’s impatience. Jungwon had to rewind it a bit, but once it started playing again you moved to get off Sunghoon’s lap. 

“Nooo,” he protested, dragging you back down to sit between his legs. “Stay here.” He pulled your back flush against his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“O-Oh, okay.” Your face turned bright red, and you were very happy he couldn’t see it from his position. Or so you thought.

“You know,” he started, leaning closer so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re really pretty when you blush.”

“Sunghoon,” you whined and hid your face in your hands. His chest vibrated as he quietly laughed.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.” He kissed your temple before turning his attention back to the movie. “For now.”

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

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[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!" 

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that! 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away. 

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him. 

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com. 

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless. 

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.   

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk. 

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes. 

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you. 

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either. 

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you. 

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost. 

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. 

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck!  Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO  for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it  cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[mediumgayitalian]

Will wakes up a little bit stuck and a lot bit hot. It’s just past sunrise, from what he can see out of the mostly-shuttered window, which means he’s just past late. Fuck.

“Nico,” he whispers, trying and failing to delicately free himself, “Nico, un-octopus. I gotta pee.”

He does have to pee. Moreso, he needs to wake up and leave, but if Nico hears so much of a syllable pertaining to his abandonment he will never let go. Ergo. Will has learned some creativity.

“Mmfggh,” groans Nico, maturely. He tightens his arms around Will’s waist and buries his face deeper into the (boiling, suffering, sweating, etc) crook of his neck. “No. Suffer.”

“Nico.”

“Sh.”

“Nico.”

“Sh. I’m sleeping.” Will feels more than sees one eye opening, eyelashes tickling his skin. He can guess at the glare. “Don’t you want me to be well-rested and healthy.”

“Right now I kind of want to flick you, honestly.”

Nico hides a smile along Will’s spine.

“That’s because you’re sick and twisted.”

“Mhm. Get off, di Angelo.”

Nico pouts but, finally, relents: he loosens his hold not enough for Will to roll out but enough that he can actually fill his lungs with enough oxygen to wiggle his way to the edge of the bed. Nico, as soon as Will is not glued to him, huffs and rolls over, smothering himself in Will’s pillow.

“I see how it is,” he complains, muffled. “You don’t want me. Fine. See if I hold you next time you come in here all needy and affectionate.” He shifts just enough to glare, once he’s sure Will is looking. “I’ll close the door in your face.”

Will rolls his eyes, smiling. He’s late, but he lingers a moment, tracing his fingers across Nico’s spine, his ribs; trailing along the reddened scratches over his shoulders and ignoring Nico’s nooooo leave them leave them as he heals them.

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“I mean it!”

“Right. You meant it yesterday, too, and yet…”

“You seduced me,” Nico says, emphatically. He sits up quickly and catches Will’s hand, staring at him hard and serious — enough so that Will almost believes him, except the corner of his mouth twitches. “You — did some kind of spell fuckery on me, no doubt purchased from your various witchy sources, and all restraint — gone. Poof. And I have restraint in abundance, so obviously it was not my weakness.”

“Obviously,” Will agrees. “Not like you say my name in your sleep and wake up pouting if I so much as breathe near the door. ‘Course not.”

Nico goes pink. “I — do not.”

Will grins. “You do. Sometimes you try and kiss the air where you imagine I am.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Whatever you need to believe, darlin’. It’s not like I’m allergic to lying.”

He leaves Nico sputtering, cackling on his way to the ensuite. It is half the reason he’s dating Nico, honestly. How come Will’s cabin doesn’t get an ensuite? They’ve got like a billion people in there. They need it more than he does.

But, well. Will needs an ensuite to get ready most mornings, because he’s up before the harpies are cleared for the night, so he supposes he will just have to sleep at Nico’s more often than not. Shame. Tragedy, really, because he is just so attached to his twin bed that is not long enough for his legs. Too bad.

“I can hear you rearranging products in there,” Nico calls, still grouchy. “Cut it out.”

Will turns the last tube of hair gel so it is just slightly off-centred from the rest of the products. He smiles around his toothbrush.

“Wouldn’t be such an issue if you didn’t have so much hair shit,” he responds, spitting into the sink.

“You should have more hair products! Look at yourself!”

Will does not. He does not have a sister who continues to look judgementally upon his mess of a head and passive aggressively but lovingly gift him hair supplies for all birthdays. He also does not have time to do his hair. Less people should maim themselves for Will to handle all day, and then maybe he’ll do something with his hair.

“You think my hair is sexy,” Will says, walking back into the main cabin. Nico harrumphs from under the covers, notably not denying it, and stares unabashedly — not that there is much to see, since it’s still pretty dark out — at Will while he changes. Will slips on a scrub top and then walks over and pinches him.

“Ow,” Nico whines, rubbing the spot as if he did not try to hide the stab wound he got sparring from him yesterday. “You hurt me.”

“Mhm. You objectified me.”

“…Only a little!”

Will shakes his head, smiling, and leans down — holding Nico’s wandering hands away from the hem of his shirt, he has places to be and has been distracted enough already — to kiss him. It’s a challenge, pressing his smile to Nico’s pout, but very quickly Nico sighs, eyes fluttering shut, and Will can kiss him properly.

“I’ll come wake you up again around noon if you’re not already up,” he murmurs. “I have to open the infirmary, but then I’m practicing for the rest of the day. You’re coming to my game, right?”

Nico tries to slide his hands up Will’s chest. Will bats his hands away.

“Yes,” he says, mournfully. “I will come watch you hit a ball around with other such interested jocks.”

“Bring your pom-poms,” Will says, cheeky, “and I wouldn’t remiss a matching skirt.”

He pulls away to Nico’s snorting laugh, wiggling his fingers in a wave as he heads to the door. He hears Nico’s quick have fun, goober as he pushes the solid obsidian shut behind him and blows a kiss at the window. He stands on the veranda, stretching, and relaxes with a sigh, staring across the common.

Gods, it is early.

And cold.

He trudges his way to the infirmary, anyway, already anticipating tonight’s koala cuddling.

———

next

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Adjustments

Eddie Munson x Reader

It hadn’t taken you long to adjust to having Eddie around.

Steve, Robin and yourself had formed a comfortable friendship, it was easy, peaceful and despite everything you all went through you melded back into reality once again.

Except this time, Eddie Munson melded too.

Right as if he’d been there the entire time.

For the last two years his loud and unapologetic presence had become a normality in your life, and the two of you couldn’t be more different.

He had the same cautious prejudgments of you from High School, and having ran in the same crowd as Steve for a while, you couldn’t exactly blame him for his weariness around you at the start.

But High School was a long time ago.

Well it felt like a long time ago.

While Eddie was all leather jackets, heavy boots and loud music, you were somewhat shyer than when you were younger and more reserved now. Not wanting the attention anywhere near you, a quiet life in the shadows was exactly what you preferred now.

And it took Eddie a while to get used to you too.

He wasn’t sure why you were so quiet around him to begin with, it put him on edge but as time went on he realised actually that’s just how you are, and he’s more than happy to speak for the both of you, often spending time together in the group you would rarely get a word in between him and Robin.

It was a nice balance and having him around to be the loud outspoken one was a comfort.

And you grew to love it.

And him.

It was funny because you weren’t even aware of your feelings until Robin pointed them out, Steve catching on to her words too.

“Oh shit honey, I actually see it.” He had informed, realisation dawning on you.

While that was about a year ago now and while Steve and Robin loved to tease you about it, you obviously weren’t going to actually do or say anything about it.

He probably still thought you were preppy and stuck up like back at school.

Which bought you to now, present time and currently stuck on the side of the road just outside of Hawkins and glaring at your car.

It was smoking a little and you tilted your head in thought as to whether it was a real issue or if you could just wait it out, but considering it had broken down, and was literally smoking you concluded it probably was a real problem.

Looking around you spotted a phone booth just down the hill so with a huff and eye roll you headed over. This really wasn’t what you needed after the day you had just had. All you wanted to do was go home and watch some movies, maybe hang out with Steve or the whole gang.

Sighing heavily at your evening plans dwindling away you dialled the number you knew by heart.

And it only rang twice before you heard him.

“Yeah hello?” He barked down the line and despite the gruffness in his tone his voice made you smile.

Actually it made you grin.

“Hey Eddie it’s me.” You announced and there a bit of a scuffle on the line before you heard him more clearly.

“Hey Pretty, what’s up?” Blushing at the nickname he had called you which he’d given you years back, having probably forgotten your actual name at the time, but for some reason it stuck.

“I kind of broke down, well my car definitely did.” You told him cringing at your own sad tone.

“Broke down? Where?” He asked worry woven into his tone and the burst of excitement you felt seemed odd at a time of crisis like this.

But he really sounded like he was worried, biting down on your bottom lip to stop the smile you hummed trying to think of where you were.

“Just on the way into Hawkins I guess, as if you’re heading to Hoppers cabin before town.” You heard him clutch some keys on the other end of the line before barking orders at you.

“Don’t move and stay in your car.” He instructed.

“Eddie! No it’s smoking I don’t want-“ he cut you off with an impatient sigh and a firmer tone.

“Get your pretty ass in the car Y/N and stay there until I find you. I’m on my way.” And then the dial tone.

Following his instructions you did as you were told trudging back to your car. Sighing heavily as you say patiently in the drivers seat.

You could be home by now.

Out of your stupid dress and makeup wiped off.

But then maybe ten or fifteen minutes later you saw Eddie, he was in Wayne’s tow truck and you could make out his navy overalls were a little smudged with oil but he gave you a grin and sarcastic wave through the windshield.

He jumped out and you rolled your window down to pout up at him.

“Need a hand?” He asked teasingly poking his head through.

With a playful eye roll you turned to him with pursed lips to really show your sadness at the situation, but instead goosebumps prickled at your arms at the closeness of the two of you. The freckle on his nose visible to you he was so close, but he cleared his throat before standing up and opening your door.

He about melted at the sight of you pushing your bottom lip out, yours eyes looking up at him for saving.

And saving he could do for you.

“I think she’s dead.” You told him and he gave you a sad smile.

“I can fix her, come on go get in the truck there’s AC in there.” He told you helping you out the car and up the step to the truck.

He licked his lips as he took you in, bare tanned legs in front of him as you climbed up, a baby blue summer dress and white little heeled shoes. Not your usual attire these days and it reminded him of High School.

Remembering only then that you had mentioned a lunch at your grandmas house a few towns over.

He made a mental note to ask you about it.

Seeing your patents wasn’t something you usually ever wanted to do.

You watched as he popped open the hood of your car took a look around, tried a few things and then tried to start her up but nothing came of it. But no matter what he tried within 30 minutes he had latched her up to the tow and joined you in the truck.

“I’ll take her to the shop, Wayne can have a look. He usually figures out what’s wrong pretty quick.” His tone was easy and you nodded at him suddenly aware that the two of you would be spending time together alone.

There was rarely an occasion you’d hung out without Steve or Robin also present. And even if you weren’t used to it there was still a comfortable warmth around you. You felt safe and it was easy being in his presence.

“Thanks Eddie.” You told him with a sweet smile, head lolling to the side to look at him, tugging your dress down when you noticed it had crumpled higher than usual.

Eddie’s eyes flicking down at your movement before focusing back on the road.

“It’s my job.” He fobbed off with a chuckle and you frowned.

“I didn’t call you because you’re a mechanic or anything, I called you because well you’re you and I knew you could help me.” Your words made his cheeks go a little pink, he huffed out some air from his nose before beaming over at you.

A proud glimmer in his eye.

“Well aren’t you a little charmer today.” And it was your turn to blush because as he said he reached his hand over from the stick to squeeze your knee.

But after driving back to the shop in peaceful silence, Eddie’s music playing from the radio keeping a comfort, you finally pulled up outside the garage and followed Eddie to the office where Wayne was sat.

“Uncle Wayne, we got a case of an over heated cooling unit and low battery.” Eddie diagnosed as Wayne looked up giving you a friendly smile.

“We’ll get her fixed right up girly.” Wayne reassured making you roll your lips into your mouth at the expensive sounding issues. “Don’t you worry about nothing.” He barked in a tone sounding familiar to his nephew’s and you saw where Eddie got his kindness from.

“Thanks Wayne but I can talk to my dad-“ you started to try and offer but he gave you a stern look. Probably knowing first hand what an asshole your father is.

“Take her home Eddie.” Were his next words as Eddie began ushering you out to his van, one hand on your lower back and the other grabbing his keys off the hook at the door.

“Wanna go grab some burgers?” He asked as you put your seatbelt on.

“From Benny’s?” You perked up in excitement making him chuckle with a sideways glance at you.

“Yeah from Benny’s, what they didn’t feed you at your grandmothers lunch?” He teased trying to broach the subject and still be a little light hearted but you groaned and closed your eyes.

“It’s not polite to over fill your plate or eat more than two quarters of a sandwich.” You informed him and then looked over. “Apparently it’s not lady like.” You added.

Your parents were from the same cut as the Harringtons, it’s how you and Steve became friends. Forced to sit in boring itchy outfits at the country club every Saturday and Sunday as your parents paraded you around like trophies.

It’s also why you live in a studio above the coffee shop on the high street and why Steve lives in a one bed two buildings down. Neither of you having much of a relationship left with your parents.

“It’s not polite to go hungry either, besides that little dress makes you plenty lady like.” His tone was flirtatious and you knew he was trying to cheer you up while making fun of you.

“And don’t worry I’ll even get you a milkshake so I know you’ve been fed through the night.” Grinning at his words you looked over at him excited for the evening again.

“I love Benny’s.” Was all you managed to say.

“I know Pretty, that’s why I’m taking you to Benny’s.” He assured as if it was obvious but you didn’t think he paid that much attention to you, until now. And pulling into the parking lot he was happy to be with you.

Just you.

Not that he was brave enough to say that out loud.

Once you had both eaten and you were picking at his left over fries you hummed content. The conversation about Robin’s new love interest, or Steve’s latest dating disaster had died down and you had just been laughing at a story he was telling from his gig last weekend, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

“We should do this more often.” You told him bravely, dropping the fry and leaning closer by resting your chin on your hand.

“We practically live in Benny’s.” Was his blazè response as he watched you gulp and nod slowly, realising maybe you had meant more than just the diner.

“Sure but I mean just me and you. We should hang out more often, without Steve or Robin.” You said it so quickly he barely had time to recover but he’d caught your every word.

And he knew he had to think quickly before you took it back or changed your mind.

“Just me and you?” He echoed as if seeing what it sounded like on his tongue as well as getting confirmation before he got too nervous to bring it up again himself later.

“Yes Eddie, just me and you. I had fun with you this afternoon. It’s nice.” You looked away from him and down at the fries, your confidence fading. He took in how your cheeks were reddening and the tip of your ears were on fire.

“Steve and Robin are pretty annoying.” You laughed out loud at his response, and his way of making you laugh even in moments like this made your chest hurt.

You almost thought that was him rejecting you, softly and kindly.

But rejection nonetheless.

But when your hand reached over for the last fry he grabbed it gently with his own, placing the softest of kisses on the top.

You watched intently, lips rolled into your mouth trying to suppress a relieved grin.

“Just me and you huh?” He teased harmlessly and grinning at you like he’d just won the lottery.

“I like the sound of that.” He hummed happily.

[drewfilms]

bf!rafe pretends like he’s not interested in your tv show.

it was a lazy sunday afternoon. rafe had left to run an errand, and you’re tucked into the corner of the couch, with a blanket wrapped around your legs and half a bowl of popcorn sat next to you, forgotten at this point.

the room is dark except for the glow from the tv as your eyes stayed glued on your new current favorite show — pretty little liars.

you don’t know why it’s taken you so long to watch, but now that you’ve started it, you couldn’t stop.

you barely hear the front door open, the familiar sound of rafe’s boots against the floor as he kicks them off. you hear a faint sound of the keys being dropped on the counter before you heard him speak up.

“are you seriously still watching this shit?” he asked, his voice playful but also serious.

your eyes stayed their position on the tv as you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself.

“mhmm,” you hum, “i swear rafe, it’s addicting.”

rafe scoffed, as he made his way towards the couch. he sat down beside you, but instead of immediately snuggling up next to you, he’s perched on the edge of the cushion, like he wasn’t planning on sitting for too long.

you couldn’t hide the smile that plastered your face as you notice him sneaking glances at the screen, as his concentrated face was just so cute.

it was a tense scene, as one of the girls received a text from “A”. you were used to this by now, but rafe leaned in slightly. he was failing horribly at pretending like he wasn’t interested.

“who’s a?” you hear him ask, and you stifle a laugh, as he looked genuinely confused.

“i guess you’ll have to keep watching to find out.” you grinned as you threw a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

he scoffed at that, now leaning back into the couch, his arm draped over your shoulders as you instinctively leaned into him.

the episode continued to play. every so often, his voice cut through the silence, him muttering things under his breath.

“these girls are dumb.”

“wait — he’s her teacher?”

“why haven’t they told the cops?”

“you don’t get it.” you cut him off, as he narrowed his eyes down at you.

“what do you mean i don’t get it? you’re telling me after all those creepy-ass texts they still decided to stay in that town?” he huffed as the corners of your mouth twitched with amusement.

“it’s not that simple, rafe.” you replied, as you heard him mutter again, “bullshit.”

by the time the episode ended, you watched as rafe’s hand grabbed the remote, him queuing up the next episode without a word.

there’s no way you were gonna let him live this down.

the next afternoon, you found yourself back in the same spot. same corner of the couch, blanket around your frame as the familiar sound of the intro of pretty little liars filled the room.

rafe was out again, claiming he needed to “handle something,” whatever that meant, so you decided to catch up on an episode or two.

you were halfway through an episode when you heard the door open, rafe entering the room as you heard his accusing voice.

“you’re watching without me?”

you turned your head towards him, noticing his genuinely betrayed look as you paused the tv and laughed under your breath.

“babe, i thought you didn’t even like this show.” you said as you watched him walk over to you, dropping down beside you with a heavy sigh.

“yeah, well,” he muttered, “i don’t. i think it’s stupid… but i need to know what happens.”

you grinned as you slide into his arms, a couple of giggles leaving your body as you began teasing him, “baby, you’re like so behind, though.”

“you better catch me up, then. we’re in this together, now.” he reached for some of the popcorn in your bowl.

your head leaned against his shoulder as you smiled to yourself. you never thought you’d successfully get rafe hooked on one of your shows.

but you definitely weren’t complaining.

[radlovesfics]

ok but what if the Variants had their own version of childhood best friend reader where they DID meet and fall in love (somehow bc we freaky like that) except in every reality besides mainstream you:

Die to Nolan/ Get mercy killed/Eaten bc u know cannibalism and love metaphor or u die before he can do that/ get a terminal illness/ overall just something horrible happens and ur gone and it’s BC OF THAT the variants go “fuck it we ball” cuckoo bananas then after going to mainstream marks world are like “wtf u get to have her but alive???? naw that’s not fair “ and just basically it’s a free for all or with their collective crazy caveman brain they decide some sort sharing custody agreement LMFAO

OR LIKE ANOTHER SCENARIO WHERE U

still fall in love with mark in every reality but mainstream Mark is the only one where he pushes u away for ur own safety and won’t tell u the reason why (if he’s just not told u about his powers) or if he decides to be like fake mean and nasty and pulls a “you’re just a distraction and make me weak” *cut to him flying away sobbing like a baby bc he didn’t wanna do it but felt like he had to* so u hate him and love him but also hate him so much and now all these variants are pulling up and mainstream mark realizes he’s FUCKED when all these other assholes are obsessed and hellbent on finding u bc why would they not love u to their fullest ability?? they’re too selfish for that so queue funny/horrible interactions with all of them bc you’re still so mad and pissed at mark but also so in love with him it’s insane

Same scenario but kinda different: let’s say like u had ur own powers and could actually go toe to toe with mark and that shit he pulls pisses u off BAD bc u can take care of urself!! like mark gets u angry enough to attack him/make u hate him bc he’s such a martyr ofc and u fuck him up!! u both never interact again in any positive form and idk if he still gets with eve here but there’s def still pinning on his end for u anyway ofc the variants invade and reader gets sent out to deal with them while mark is MIA and maybe the variants’ reader was weak/powerless in every reality except the mainstream one so this is like. hard drugs for these crazy marks who are like “oh my god you’re so hot please beat me” u know?? and ofc u do bc u hate mark here and take out ur aggression on them

but I’d like to think (for added drama) ur superhero costume involves a mask to hide your identity and since ur were weak/dead in their realities, as these variants are fighting u they have no idea who u are and are not going easy or pulling punches and are being just awful but u know!! one sends ur mask flying or breaks it somehow and suddenly everything comes to a dead stop and whichever one ur fighting will freeze in disbelief bc wtf this is the loml??? the last person they expected ?? and she’s so strong?? and even more amazing than they remembered ??? u however will not give an actual shit and continue beating their variant asses as they all immediately change their attitude when fighting u and it’s just a LOT of flirting/ snarky compliments/ actually mark being gross and horny on main but this obvs sets u off and they realize mainstream mark never ended up with u and u in fact HATE him as they witness u literally crush one of themselves and well obvs they see themselves as better to the mainstream mark so they’re like “ok we can work with this :)” and blah blah blah run a train on u, kidnap u, lotta hate sex, whatever

and for the mainstream mark (to those that love him including myself): the above scenario ends with him trying over and over to save u and finally some epic and dramatic love confession with lots of yelling and then y’all fight together and have ur cute wholesome reunion and then fuck like crazy LMAOOO

I need to be sedated

[deadghosy]

How they would react to teen sinner! Reader getting catcalled/ S/A:

WARNING: long depending on your reading speed, explicit language, uncomfortable themes, read if you don’t wanna read anything you have encountered in life like this. If you are dealing with s/a please call your national hotline. This will be the only time I write something like this cause this is a serious topic.

LUCIFER

It was late in the pride ring as you snuck out of the hotel wanting to get snacks and a drink. I mean shit you died in the late 2010’s, you’re use to this shit. So you went to a store as you didn’t see an older sinner smirk, slowly gazing your body up and down as you grab a pair of chips and energy soda.

“Hey sweetie…” the older sinner says as he slowly appears behind you. You divest even bother to look at him as you felt him get closer. You whipped around and glare at him only to see such an ugly sinner who looks homeless as well.

“Hey now, I’m not gonna harm you.” The man says grabbing your arm and pulling you toward him. “I just wanna see your pretty face little boy/girl.” Your eyes widened shocked. You tried to pull your arm as he tugs tighter. You yelled for him to let you go as he dragged you out the store. You were not gonna let some creep take you! So you bit his arm hard as fuck. He let you go, but not without punching you.

You ate the punch but start to run to the hotel you know and love. You ran as your heart beat for safety and away from anything else. You didn’t think it would be like this, but what could you except. This is hell itself. There’s a lot of ass holes and bastards that deserve to be here.

You ran inside ignoring the look of a certain king who was sitting down in the lounge room, he swore he saw tears fall down your cheeks. He felt his heart ache to know what was wrong with you as he slowly followed after you.

A soft knock was heard as you look up to see the king of hell, the man who always gave you ducks when you first came here. “Kid are you okay? I heard you cry?” He said worried seeing you tear up hearing his worried voice. It wasn’t making it better as you ran into his arms. He was move back a bit at your usually tough attire cracking into a soft and scared one. Now he was concerned.

He set you back in bed as you rant out about what happened, even giving a description of what he looked like. After a bit of comfort in for Lucifer and him petting your back a lot. You sniffled a little, feeling better than what you felt as Lucifer smiled at you sleeping against his lap. He sighs sensing you sleeping as he poofs away from your sleeping body.

“DONT worry kid…that bastard isn’t going to see another hellish day…” Lucifer says walking out of the hotel as his hat overcasted his face.

It was a new day as you woke up to play your regular tv show only for the news to play. “BREAKING 666 NEWS!!! ALLEGED PEDOPHILE DEAD AT GRIMM’S MARKET AS HIS HEAD WAS-” the news was cut off by Lucifer who had a guilty expression as you had a wide eye expression shocked that the bastard got some quick karma.

ALASTOR

You and alastor went on a walk together as he wanted you to get off your pesky small picture rectangle. He’s talking about your damn phone.💀

“And I told the fellow gentleman to make my meat, medium rar-” before Alastor could finish his story about how he went to a restaurant. You groaned tired of this, you wanted to sleep and be on your hell phone since you miss the human world.

Alastor rolls his eyes with a smile, he pinches your cheek making you huff. “No need for an attitude!~” he said in a song tune voice you pushed him away from you embarrassed. “I don’t need to fix my attitude old man..” you say walking a bit forward ahead of the deer demon.

The radio demon chuckles, but the chuckles stops when seeing you immediately get whistled at by a male sinner who eyes you. You flipped the sinner off before going back to Alastor, holding the older’s hand as he slightly move in front of you.

It seemed like this asshole was trying to talk to you, but he couldn’t as alastor smiles down at the sinner. “C'mere sweet thing. Why don’t you come and get a drink with me.” The sinner says. You and Al narrow your eyes at the sinner, you weren’t budging from behind alastor who stands strong and confident

“I don’t think they will be going with you anytime soon my dear fellow.” Alastor says with a strained smile. The sinner was definitely new and didn’t know who was companying you at this very moment.

“I don’t think I give a fuck.” The sinner says teaching his hand out to your frame.

The sinner tried to make an attempt to grab your arm from the radio demon. There was a ring of static in the air whilst making the sinner stop grabbing your arm. Alastor grabs the arm that dares to try and take you from him. Alastor smiles eerily at the sinner.

“I’ll teach you some respect you filthy pest.” He says as static seems to boom the area before he goes full demon mode and drag the filth to the alley to have a nice “talk.”

Their screams were broadcasted on his radio station the day after they whistled at you. Alastor made sure to have his shadow follow you for a few months before he was sure you were fully okay. Harassment towards a minor, is a big no-no.

VAGGIE

You wanted to help her get more flowers for a decoration of a trust exercise, so she let you run the errand.

You ran out the hotel happy and excited. You always weee excited to help the hotel ever since you died. You knew your mom was in heaven so you wanted to be redeemed quickly and possible.

You went to the flower shop smiling which gained the attention of a female who smile sweetly at you. She approached you holding a flower. You knew not to take things from strangers, even demons as Charlie and vaggie told you.

But it’s a flower, what’s the worse that can happen. Plus you need flowers for the event itself. As you grabbed the flower, the flower sprays out this gas that made you feel slight drowsy. You feel your body limp as the woman comes closer to you.

You try to push her off as she caresses your body. With your mustered up strength, you use your sharp nails/claws to stab her eyes and run.

The flower drug was slowly taking affect until you did a few symbols on yourself. You learnt it from Lucifer as he gave you a book. The drug wore off but your mind was scrambling. You felt yucky and violated. As you bursted through the hotel door, accidentally running into vaggie’s arms.

“What the fuck happened!!?” Vaggie says concerned as she sees the bruises on your wrist. Her eyes widen. “What. Happened..” she says seriously.

You explained the situation while sobbing softly. Vaggie comforted you in her hold as she closed her eyes ashamed at how she wasn’t there to protect you. She was suppose to your guarden. Your parental figure.

Vaggie takes you upstairs, run you a bath and just watched you softly. Guilt in her eyes for not being a good parent to you and just follow you to make sure you were okay.

The whole night, she stayed close to you. Not even dropping her guard when it comes to you. You are too precious to go through this. She just hopes you can recover.

She’s not letting you out of her sight ever again. Hell she might teach you how to fight , but might go overprotective on you and keep you in the hotel until she and you were sure to go outside again.

CHARLIE

It was during a trust exercise with one of the new residents…

It was a trust fall activity as Charlie shows the residents how it goes. You say what you have in your mind and do the trust fall. After Charlie does it with vaggie. It was your turn and the sinner’s.

The sinner looked calm and you were anxious as you never done the trust fall game. Even in the human world.

As you stood on the stand talking to every member of this exercise and Charlie. She gives you a thumbs up which made you smile and gain confidence in talking. You fell backwards into the sinner’s hold as they caught you.

But they didn’t let you go. You tried to tell them but they didn’t let go still. You felt their hand travel around you and gr0pe your lower and waist. Your eyes widen as you try to move away from the bastard.

Tears were in your eyes as you hyperventilate at how you feel their touch. It burns, it feels like lit burns. Charlie notices what is going on. She gets up and pulls the bastard from you. She pushes you behind her as she looks behind her to see if you were okay. Whilst she does that, she glares heavily at the sinner.

“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN TOUCH THEM LIKE THAT?!” Charlie yells as her demon form was slipping out of anger seeing you run towards her. Hell was going loose as the sinner tried to back away from the raging aura Charlie was releasing.

Before Charlie can send hell fire at the bastard who dares to gr0pe you, you grabbed her arm. You know she isn’t really the type to kill someone and might regret it. So while you grabbed her arm, she calmed down and stared at you. Her yellow pupils going back to red as she glares at the sinner.

“Your stay isn’t welcome here..” Charlie says lastly as alastor takes the sinner away, probably to kill them and eat em.

Charlie takes you up stairs as you grip onto her arm. Her gaze on you soften with protectiveness and worry. She can’t believe that happened to you.

She checks on you everyday and has to mane sure you are with a resident before leaving the hotel. She feels guilty knowing she wasn’t there to protect you. Charlie must definitely hands razzle and dazzle to you if you are going out or going to sleep.

HUSK

A drunk resident had walked into your room as you were busy doing art work.

It was a night that you were relaxing in your room just drawing. You always had a passion to draw, maybe even to be an artist.

Your father figure was down stairs tending the bar. Husk was giving drinks to a resident, husk could tell that the drunk bastard has enough. He told the bum to go upstairs as he had enough beers.

Husk watches the person go upstairs, stumbling and staggering. The cat demon rolls his eyes as he hears a door close, assuming the sinner went to their designated room.

You were so busy listening to music you didn’t notice someone enter your room. As you put down your pencil, going for a crayon. You noticed a resident you would see at the bar. Your eyes widen smelling the strong alcohol from their body as they walked closely to you.

A curling scream came from your room making husk immediately drop the glass he was cleaning. He rushes upstairs to see the problem and why you screamed. He sees you being pinned down by the sinner he was tending to earlier.

“GET THE FUCK OF THEM!” Husk yells, eyes filled of anger. All he saw was red as he pulls the bastard off you and starts to beat the person up repeatedly. Their face was bloodied as heavy breathing came out of their face. You stopped husk as you had already been traumatized. Husk stops, breathing heavy before he kicks the bastard all the way down stairs.

You sometimes still relive through that moment as husk stays beside your bed. Husk would have to calm your down from your panic attacks from that night as you lash out at your own “father”

“Kid. Kid! Calm down…it’s okay. I’m here for you..fuck. I’m here for you.” Husk says calmingly while you try to get out of his hold. Still in panic mode. He had to hold you tightly for you to understand that you were now safe.

Hot tears fall to your cheek as you sob painfully at what you just experienced. Your tears made husk’s heart break and shatter. He was just glad you were okay in your room for now.

He holds you to his chest as his fur called you down even more. You sniffled holding him tight as if he would disappear if you let him go.

He felt your heartbeat go slow as you fall asleep in his hold. He stays close to you the whole night as he promises that he will always protect you. You are like his own child since you came to the is shit hole.

He lets you stay by him in the bar as you fall asleep. He grumbles a lot remembering that night as he almost broke a glass in his hand. You are only a kid…

ANGEL DUST

You were sent to find angel dust, only to see him in a bar drunk. So what did you do? Try and drag him out only to drag into trouble

You went into the bar to see Angel drunk, he was also talking to some demons who smirked at his drunken state.

You scoffed going over to grab Angel dust. As you went to grab him, one of the demons made you sit on his lap as if you were ready to meet Santa Claus. But you weren’t as you headbutt the demon and grab Angel dust.

The rest of the demons pull out knives and gun. Your eyes widen as you rushed pout the bar door, sensing the demons on your tail.

You throw a beer bottle at one of the members, the shards went in their eyes. Even if it was a small trick, the screams distracted those asshole as you make a run for the hotel.

You gently laid angel dust in his bed as his eyes tears up, realizing the situation and what could’ve happened if you didn’t take advice from Vaggie about combat.

“Shit…I’m sorry for getting you in this shit.” Angel dust says as he looks away with a drunk shamed look. You sighed, you’re just a kid looking after a drunk adult.

Angel sobered up a bit after you left him in his room. His memory fuzzy, but it was clear that you were uncomfortable with those damn demons that were eyeing you. Even if you got pulled into someone’s lap, that made him disgusted.

He promised you when you first came here that he would protect you. You was like a little sibling to him. He couldn’t believe how he was a drunk asshole who couldn’t even protect someone he cared about most.

Angel was actually sober for months after that encounter. Worried you would run into those demons he was with that night. He would also make you more like force you to watch fat nuggets while he is at work.

He would probably make a deal with Valentino or probably mostly alastor to make sure you were safe since that day.

SIR PENTIOUS

You were trying to find Frank, one of the egg boiz in the pride ring only to run into trouble.

You found Frank being ganged by some sinner who looked from the modern era you are from. You looked around for something, and you found an old computer. Mustering up your strength, you threw that bitch at their head.

Frank runs to you, holding your leg tightly. He was happy to see you were okay with him. You and the egg right here was like family as you smile at how cute he was happy to see you. Pentious would be happy to see Frank is in good condition

You left the alley way and start to chat with the egg boy by your side. It was have been obvious that you were being watched as a female sinner stared at you and your body. You felt the gaze and scoff making Frank raise a brow until seeing the sinner. The sinner seemed scary for poor Frank.

A whistle was made towards you, you flipped them off as you picked up the poor egg who was trembling. He obviously was trying to seem strong for you but it fails as he holds tightly to you. The sinner lady smirks as she follows you. You felt more uncomfortable with Frank as Frank was trying to warn you that she was gaining speed for you. But you already knew.

You made a circle with your hand, a portal opened and it closed immediately when you entered it. The portal sent you to the hotel in one piece with the adorable egg boy.

Your face was stoic with some disgust in your eyes. Eyebrows furrowed on your face as you entered Pentious’s room with Frank.

“Ssssweetheart? What happened? Whatssss wrong?” Pentious says as he notices your disgusted look. "Nothing nothing. Here you go penny." You said brushing off the feeling on your shoulders. But it still noticeable in your body language.

Before you could walk out of the room after putting Frank down. Frank just had to open his eggy mouth. The egg confessed that you were catcalled and almost followed to the hotel until you did your powers you have conquered in hell.

“Why that behavior is not acceptable to a minor!! That bunch of filth shall learn to never mess with my dear friend.” Pentious says as he forces out of his room so you can get a fresh start on a new days and this time he is making baby gates for his eggs so they will not bother you anymore

He was planning all night to see what he can use as a revenge for the cat calling you had experienced. Frank was also giving sir Pentious ideas also. It seemed they both agreed on one plan to have your get back.

He used his machine weapons to destroy that monster who catcalled. He was definitely making sure the laser was fast so he can come back to you and make you cookies so you could feel better. For the rest of the week and probably month.

CHERRI BOMB

You wanted to grab a snack out for Cherri and you. You left the hotel as she started to stay, as you left you didn’t notice of couple of shark demons. The leader smirked flicking a cigarette from his mouth eyeing you. They whistled at you making you scoff and keep walking.

The leader nods his head at you as the sharks move towards you snickering. You felt their presence, luckily you brought your…damnit you left your pepper spray.

The leader grabs you trying to pull you into an alley as your eyes widen. In a heap of panic you screamed for help, that only made it worst. Next thing you felt was a slap to your cheek as you sobbed.

The leader and the members chuckle grabbing your hair. With one final effort your screamed, but it wasn’t an ordinary scream. It was a sonic one that blew them away (a/n: sorry if it sounded corny😕) With that you left in a hurry inside of the hotel. Tears running down your eyes, you ran upstairs passing Cherri who looked shocked to see you run pat her like nothing.

“Sweetie?” Cherri says softly, her Australian accent showing her absolute worry for you as she followed you into your room. She sees your face in your pillow. Softly sobbing, scared as your adrenaline was still high. She sat next to you softly holding you in her arms hoping you would open up. And you did after calming down. 

After explaining what happened with a tired and broken voice, you couldn’t believe that this would happenu to you. You felt kinda yucky being touched but you felt safe with Cherri.

“What a fuckin' asshole. I bet his dick is small…don’t worry honey.” She says caressing your back as you sniffled before falling asleep.

In the aftermath, she blowed up their house in honor for you.🔥💗 no witnesses either.

HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED IT!

Remember that my requests are closed, so please if you are new to my blog check out my other work as I am currently working on other requests‼️ THAT ARE IN MY DRAFTS, not the ones people are asking me. So please don’t DM me and respect that please.

And mostly, please seek help if you are going through any abuse or assault related issues. Everyone needs to speak up in their own experiences. ❤️

[tinysunshine]

‎ 𝐃𝐀𝐃'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 & 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐋 ━━━ ✧˖°

‎ ‎ ‎ 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘, 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓?

‎ part one + dbf! rick and daryl masterlist

“Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?” Daryl asks, holding back a scoff at the expression on Rick’s face. As close as they’ve gotten over these last few years, like brothers, and even closer now with everything involving you, Daryl still doesn’t like to feel on the spot. He’s uncomfortable with the way Rick’s looking at him. 

Like he’s smug. Or a little pissed. Or jealous? Shit, maybe the reason Daryl hates it so much is because he can’t read Rick at all. 

Rick shrugs. They’re sitting in the living room, and Rick’s drinking a beer while Daryl holds your glass of water while you grab something upstairs. He could set the cup on the table, sure - but it didn’t even cross his mind. You were cuddling against his side, tucked up all nice and snug under his arm, and then you got up and pecked his cheek when Rick told you to go get ready for dinner, asked if he could hold your water for you since you’d been sipping on it. 

Daryl follows rules really fuckin’ well. He’s not the rebel people make him out to be, not even close. But now he feels a little embarrassed about it, with Rick looking at him and all, so he puts the cup down and wipes the condensation off on his pant leg. He grunts, while Rick laughs and shakes his head. Daryl scowls. 

“Nothin’, man,” Rick promises, although it’s obvious now that he’s teasing Daryl. He always does, whenever he sees how far gone the older man is for you. How in love he is. Which is funny, because Rick still thinks he plays it cool around you. Still thinks nobody can tell that he’d ask how high if you told him to jump, that he tries to satisfy your every whim as long as it doesn’t jeopardize your safety - pretends he’s all dominant and Daddy and whatever else, and that might be the case in the bedroom…

But it ain’t the case in regular, day to day life, that’s for sure. 

Daryl’s the same way. He just loves you, is all. You’re like an Apocalypse Barbie, all pink and soft and cute and sweet but tough when you need to be, in a world where women like that don’t exist anymore. Daryl never realized how much he missed femininity, until you came along with all your frills and princess demands and pink panties and makeup, keep trying to put blush on his cheeks just to See, Daryl, you’ve got great cheekbones. Look! 

Don’t even get him started about what he saw the other day, when he walked in on you tying a purple ribbon around the handle of an axe.

Daryl wants to tell Rick that it’s obviously not nothing, and to stop fucking teasing him because he hates that shit, but then you come down the stairs and you plop yourself down next to him again, looking to your water glass on the table. There’s strawberries in the glass because you wanted fancy water so you cut them up and added them to the pitcher in the fridge, and it must be for decoration because Daryl tasted those strawberries and they tasted sour. They taste like ass, except - 

Well, Daryl’s only tasted one ass, and it was yours, and truth be told, you didn’t taste bad at all. Better than those strawberries at least. God, he’s blushing, so he turns his focus on you, except you’re glaring at him. 

Like an angry kitten. Big eyes, nose sort of scrunched up. You still look cute, even when you’re pissed. He’s confused, until you poke him in the chest with your little finger, nails painted with something sparkly. “I told you to hold my water, Daryl,” you’re pouting, and you’re upset over something so stupid that Daryl just kind of wants to kiss the pout off of you. He tries to, but you pull away. 

So you’re doing this game again. The brat role, where nothing is good enough for you until Daryl or Rick forces you to take it. Which is fine, he supposes. Daryl can work with that. 

“No kisses. I told you to hold it, and you put it on the table. You never listen to me, Daryl. I swear, it’s like,” but Rick cuts you off, as he always does when you start your little filibuster of fake crimes either one of them committed. Sometimes Daryl hates that Rick always cuts you off, because he likes to hear the bullshit you’re spewing because it’s just so damn ridiculous. You’re smart, the way you can make mountains out of molehills. Actually takes some brains to be so ridiculous. 

But Rick cuts in. “Leave him alone, would you?” Daryl thinks Rick is standing up for him, but instead he says, “I could’ve held it for you. You didn’t even ask.” 

It’s been like that lately. Petty between the two of them, and Daryl hates it. As close as he and Rick are, nothing can really prepare a man for sharing the woman he loves. 

Daryl’s just glad Merle’s not alive to see him like this - sharing a bed most nights with Rick and you. The other night his foot accidentally brushed against Rick’s and it was so uncomfortable. Somehow even more uncomfortable than the way their dicks accidentally touched when they were both inside of you a few weeks ago. Daryl’s face is definitely pink from the memory of double penetrating you with his best friend, but your bickering with Rick stops his boner before it even starts. 

You roll your eyes, one of your favorite things to do around them. “I’m just teasing him, Rick. Just wanted him to put me in my place,” Daryl actually lets out a laugh at that. You’re so funny. So honest. “You’ve both been neglecting me so much lately,” you whine, and while you’re definitely being a little dramatic, especially since one of them is almost always somewhere around you if not physically with you, the both of them have had their hands full with duties in the community. 

On the walker front, things are stable. The community has enough supplies, and plenty of trustworthy, able bodied residents. Every job is filled, every person has a place to sleep, and things are good. Better than ever, although sometimes Daryl wonders if that’s just because he’s in love. 

Maybe everything looks better with you in his heart. 

But that sappy shit still makes him feel weird, so he just replies to you. Places a hand on your thigh. 

“Just busy, you know. With all those threats. You know we’ve all been on guard, tryin’ to figure out what we saw out there,” Daryl doesn’t say as much as he planned to, because Rick shoots him a look that reminds Daryl that they talked about this. Disagreed actually, because Rick doesn’t want you to know about the potential danger outside of this community, and Daryl thinks you deserve a right to know about everything. You’re grown. You’re smart.

But Daryl’s kept his mouth shut to avoid any drama between him and Rick. He already hears enough bullshit from him about making your hair smell like cigarette smoke whenever you join him on a smoke break (and you still won’t admit to Rick that you like to smoke too), or from keeping you up too late when you play cards with him and Abraham over at Abe’s place that he shares with some of the others from the group. Shit like that.

Daryl doesn’t need anything else to create tension between him and Rick. So he’s kept the secret from you, about the dead bodies that they’ve found when they’re on runs, bodies that have been brutally murdered, and the people they’ve met that have tried to harm them.

Alexandria has been doing great, but there’s shit scarier than walkers out behind the gates. Rick doesn’t want to worry you, and neither does Daryl, but - 

He supposes it’s a worry for another time. You’ve all got to get to dinner, remind the rest of the group that Daryl and Rick aren’t a pair of perverts that keep you locked up in the house. 

Your brows furrow, and then you place your hand on top of Daryl’s and lean up to kiss him. “Alright,” you grumble against his lips, surprisingly agreeable. Daryl’s focused on you, but he can feel Rick staring, probably a little tipsy from his beer and maybe even a little turned on, watching the two of you together. He’s admitted he likes it before, watching, but it still feels weird to Daryl. 

He’s into this whole thing because of you. He loves you, and he wants whatever you want. Sure, it’s hot, watching you blow Rick, or call him Daddy while you ride the cock of a man that was already grown before you were even born. But that’s just because he’s a man, and any man seeing that shit would pop a boner.

But it’s not the main thing that turns him on, the two of you together. You turn him on, and it’s not because of Rick, or what you two do together. What the three of you do together. Daryl realizes that he’s so into you because he trusts you, has bonded with you emotionally, which is why he’s able to get intimate with you in more ways than just fucking you. He loves you, and it’s the first time in his entire life that he’s ever felt this way. 

“Good girl,” they both praise, accidentally at the same time - although Rick’s has a tone of something degrading and mocking, while Daryl’s good girl is genuine. The silence that follows them saying the same thing at the same time is long, and you freeze before letting out a laugh, standing up and taking Daryl’s hand. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” you say, and it sounds innocent coming out of your mouth, but it’s far from it. When you say it, you look directly at Daryl, and maybe you just really want him right now, because you get like that sometimes, horny for just one of them, which is understandable. Daryl can’t believe you’re even able to walk with the amount they both fuck you, honestly.

Or maybe you're just trying to piss Rick off - which you do, every damn day. Daryl doesn’t know your reasoning.

What he does know, is that his dick starts chubbing up almost immediately as the name leaves your pretty mouth, and he lets go of your hand to rudely re-adjust himself in his jeans before smacking you on the ass on the way out of the door. 

He doesn't have to look behind him at Rick to know that he’s jealous. 

Rick says that he doesn’t get jealous, but Daryl knows that he does. Doesn’t know why Rick even pretends like he doesn’t, because it’s natural and it makes pretty damn good sense why he’d feel that way. 

Daryl feels it all the time. When Rick gets you all to himself some nights, when he hears the headboard pounding against the wall and neither one of you invited him in the room. He feels it, burning hot in his chest, when people say you guys are such a cute couple when they see you and Rick together, and a million more examples he could think of that hurt. 

But Daryl takes it out on you in bed, in the way that you like, with his tongue or his fingers or his cock, sometimes with a hand placed carefully around your throat. And sometimes he gives Rick a taste of his own medicine. Daryl planned to do that tonight, but you beat him to it, calling him Daddy when that’s a word meant for Rick. 

It’s just that - you’ve been doing it more and more lately. Calling Daryl Daddy. For a long while, he had a feeling that he was just the third wheel in whatever romantic adventure you and Rick were on. He thought that you liked Rick but you didn’t want Daryl to lose feelings for you, so you let him hang around. You assured him that wasn’t the case, but still - it was hard not to feel that way. But as time has gone on, he’s starting to believe you. 

Daddy. The most special word to you. You call Daryl by that name all the time now, but it’s less about sex and dominance with him like it is with Rick, and more about the feeling of safety. Being taken care of.

Daryl loves it. 

Daddy, open my soda can? I got a scratch on my finger, you’ll say, as if those things are correlated in any way, as if you need to make up reasons for Daryl to dote on you, but you’ll hop on yout tip toes for a second, looking all cute and innocent, or your tits will jiggle when you bend over the counter to hand the can to him - and, fuck. Truth is, you ask and Daryl always delivers, so he does whatever you need and kisses the tip of your nose. 

Sometimes you get scared at night, because the world is a fucking scary place, and sometimes you just want some extra comfort. Will sit on his lap on the couch and ask him to hold you (as if you have to ask) or pull the covers halfway up over your head when you’re in his bed, head on his chest, just seeking some comfort with the soft murmur of Daddy leaving your mouth. 

And, yeah, okay - it’s sexual too. Whining Daddy and damn near ripping his hair out when he’s between your thighs with two fingers curved inside your tight pussy and his tongue on your throbbing clit, or when you’re bouncing on his cock like a fucking bunny. 

The jealousy that Rick feels is valid, and Daryl understands. In a way, that feeling just goes straight to his dick. Makes him horny and angry and fired up when the roles are reversed, but for right now? He enjoys the feeling of Rick’s eyes on your hand that’s interlocked with his. ‘S what the fucker gets anyway, for hogging you the entire night last night. 

Rick’s just jealous ‘cause Daryl’s got himself a title now too.

Daddy. Yeah, Daryl’s pretty sure Daddy is better than boyfriend any day.

────

When the community is doing well, it usually means that Rick is exhausted. 

Granted, he’s been exhausted every single day, every single second, for the last few years - and he’s pretty sure everyone still alive feels the same way. If there’s ever a day, or a week, where things feel hopeful and exciting and good - he can pretty much guarantee a storm of shit will follow soon after, a pattern he’s starting to recognize by now. 

Rick’s a little scared at what he’s discovered outside of the gates. Miles and miles away from home base, sure, but seeing the bodies of people strung up to trees, gutted like fish, branded and hurt and just - 

He doesn’t really want to think about it at dinner. Told Daryl he’d put those thoughts away for tonight, because the likelihood of anything happening over a plate of Deanna’s shitty brussel sprouts and Carol’s potato salad really isn’t likely. So Rick’s trying to enjoy himself, taking whatever alcohol is offered and keeping his eyes on you. 

Everyone wants to talk to him, because he’s the leader, so he listens and answers and tells Deanna he doesn’t care if the chicken meat she’s serving is white or dark, but he’s not really paying attention to anything except for you. Nothing else matters when you’re around - and that’s amazing, but it’s also really fucking dangerous, but it’s not your fault. You can’t control how lovable you are, but sometimes Rick wishes he could go back in time and kick your dad’s ass for making such a perfect woman. 

He has those thoughts in his more insane bouts of anger and frustration, but. You know what? He’s going to drink to that. Takes a big sip of wine and pretends like he's a normal boyfriend. That he doesn’t share his girlfriend, who’s young enough to be his daughter, with his best friend who’s also old enough to be her father. That he’s not going to take you home after this and fuck you until it hurts to walk, just to take all his frustration out on you. Sexually, that is.

Because you love that shit. It’s never hard enough for you, never rough enough. And maybe you’re just a brat, trying to get Rick to go deeper and faster to get a rise out of him, but sometimes he feels like he can’t keep up with you. 

Little Miss Virgin, his ass. You might’ve been a virgin when he first fucked you, but you were far from sexually inexperienced, and Rick feels jealous all over again just thinking about you with other guys. 

And a little turned on, which further irritates him. Maybe what you said is true - told him you learned, in a psychology course, that men deal with anxiety by getting angry. You’re a little smarty pants, and Rick loves you so much, but.

He’s just in a mood today.

Daryl always tells him to stop being so rough with you. Left fuckin’ bruises on her man, he said the other day, flipped out about you limping after they fucked you at the same time, and he really hates it if he’s around whenever Rick gives you a little slap on the cheek. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell Daryl that you want it, it still upsets him to witness you getting hurt. Because Daryl can be rough because that’s just who he is. It’s accidental. He’s big, a little uncoordinated, whereas Rick really does try to make you take more. 

It’s hard sharing you, but Rick knew it would be. But he also knows Daryl, and he knows you, and for a situation like this, he quite literally couldn't pick a better man to share his girl with. Daryl’s such a great guy, such a good friend, and he treats you so damn well that it feels nice to know you've got someone else. In case something ever happened to Rick, or even the other way around. 

He and Daryl have talked about it, what it would be like if something happened to either one of them. At least you’d still be taken care of, because the likelihood of one of them getting hurt isn't zero. Not in this world. It feels nice to know that no matter what, you’d be okay.

And, both Rick and Daryl tell themselves that to feel better, to push away the guilt of double-teaming their dead friend’s daughter. To keep her safe. But, hey. Whatever gets them through the day.

Maggie asks Rick something too serious for this dinner, so he brushes her off as nicely as he can, but then he sees you from the corner of his eye giggling with Spencer, and Rick wants you to have friends, but come on. What could you possibly talk about with Spencer? Rick just doesn’t like the guy, never has. Even before you said he looked like he could be a model for a surfing brand one night to Rosita. Whatever. 

Rick is not having a good time tonight. Just internally. He feels edgy and he feels like he wants you, all to himself, with a lock on the bedroom door and his dick buried so far inside of you he could get you pregnant in just one shot, but. Here he is. 

When you laugh a little louder, Rick hears Daryl call Spencer’s name to take his attention off of you, and he does it so smoothly that nobody else probably realizes why he did it. Or maybe they do, because the entire group does know about the three of you. They think it’s weird as shit. Rick knows this, and has had people in the community question just how reliable and trustworthy and good both him and Daryl are, but the other man set them straight. 

Really, people are more afraid of Daryl than they are of Rick. 

“The fuck you care for? Don’t needa tell anyone who I’m stickin’ my dick in. Rick don’t have to tell you shit neither,” he snapped at the first person to voice their concern, and then followed it up with, “‘And ‘s not gay, before one of you fucks tries to say sumthin.’ More gay to worry about who I’m fuckin’, if you ask me.” 

And, yeah, that shut people up. But both Daryl and Rick still try to keep the PDA to a minimum around you, although you make it impossible. It’s why he’s sitting across from you, and Daryl is a few people down from you at this large table, because they both want to give the group space from this. They know it’s weird. Saw the looks on people’s faces when they were leaving for a few days on a run and you hugged and kissed them both, practically sandwiched between them in front of everyone.

People think it’s wrong, or they don’t want to think about it at all. They don’t like it. Rick gets that. If he wasn’t apart of it, he’d probably think the same thing too.

But for right now, he’s just glad that Daryl hates Spencer just as much as he does. 

Without Spencer to talk to, you finally focus on eating. Rick watches you push a pea around your plate, thinks the way you tease Eugene and try to take a bite of his mashed potatoes is funny, until he retaliates and grabs your bread roll off your plate, and since Gabriel is sitting next to Rick, he notices when the man almost falls out of his chair, making a scene until someone says there’s cake. 

Rick doesn’t even have to hear him say it to know you fucked up with a game of footsie. Which sucks, because Rick would’ve had fun playing with you right now. Too far to the right, sweetheart, he wants to tell you, but you brush it off rather well, stick your tongue out at Daryl who shakes his head like you’re crazy, and Rick just feels sorry for Glenn and Eugene who’re sitting between you two. 

Finally, when dinner is about to end, when Rick starts to feel some relief - 

It happens. 

It starts with Deanna offering someone the last scoop of mashed potatoes, and then you say you want it, are about to split it with Tara, and everything is fine. Rick doesn’t even know he’s supposed to be bracing himself for what’s about to happen. The mashed potatoes are on your plate, you’re bragging to Eugene that you got the last serving, and then -

“Daddy, can you please pass the salt?” 

It’s like he’s on autopilot. The name is just so familiar, Rick’s trained to answer to it. There’s some salt in the middle of the table, a cute little ceramic shaker that Deanna must’ve paid a lot for before, handpainted, and he reaches for it while in a conversation with Carol when his fingers brush against Daryl’s, and -

Fucking hell.

Rick’s never felt so awkward. And in all the time he’s spent with Daryl out on the road, seeing terrifying things - the look on the other man’s face when they both realize what happened has more terror on it than Rick has ever seen before.

He swears his entire body turns the color of a tomato, and his neck starts heating up, so much so that he jerks his hand away from the salt shaker and starts pulling at the collar of his shirt. Daryl clears his throat, but he does hand you the salt, all the while Abraham hoots with laughter at the end of the table, slamming his hands down so hard his plate almost bounces off.

“Oh, shit,” he teases, shaking his head like he’s proud. “You know what they said. The prettiest girls got the worst daddy issues. It’s in the Bible or something,” and he’s drunk, and he’s wrong, and Rosita smacks him so hard on the back of the head that Rick’s actually a little concerned, but you seem just jolly.

Pouring your salt and complimenting Deanna on the potatoes, while Daryl literally gets up and walks outside, grumbling something about never coming to another dinner again, and all Rick can think about is the fact that you could’ve easily grabbed the salt shaker yourself. Spoiled brat.

You know what?, Rick thinks. Fuck it. The truth is out, he can’t take it back. So much for no PDA or keeping your bedroom activities and the dynamic of the relationship on the down low. He stands up, says he’ll see everyone bright and early tomorrow, and fixes you with a look. You’re familiar with it.

It’s the same one he wears when he tells you to get on your knees or lectures you about running off. You’re well trained, and you show it by quickly standing up, no longer the playful little minx that had Rick walking on eggshells during dinner.

Rick walks to you and grabs your hand while you say a quick goodnight to everyone, then he tugs you along back to the house you share.

“You need to be more fuckin’ careful,” he warns, dropping your hand to pinch at the back of your neck while he leads you to the house. Not too rough, but enough to get you to know that he’s serious. That it’s not cool to pull that shit, although something like pride is starting to rear its head inside of him as you both make your way up the porch steps, where Rick can see Daryl, already in the living room with the lights on, from the window.

“You’re so grumpy today,” you complain, but Rick ignores you. Doesn’t want to start bickering before he gets to fuck you.

Mine, he thinks, knowing you pulled that whole stunt on purpose. Mine, mine, mine. Everyone knows that you’re his. Daryl’s. Theirs. What’s he got to be embarrassed about? Rick’s done enough for this entire community to have what he wants without judgment, hasn’t he? Daryl too. ‘S what he deserves. What Daryl deserves. A pretty girl like you, even when you’re an attention seeking little brat.

And a pretty girl like you deserves two men who know how to give you what you want. They’re better for you than some idiot guy around your age. Better for you than someone like Spencer, who couldn’t be the man you needed him to be even if he tried.

Rick’s not jealous. Seriously. He just hates that guy.

Rick’s in a significantly better mood now that he’s away from everyone, knowing that he can charge you with some petty crimes to punish you, and hopefully this time - get Daryl in on it, instead of that good cop, bad cop shit. If they tire you out enough, maybe you won’t make such a big fucking fuss when he tells you they’re leaving tomorrow to go investigate the threats outside the walls.

But tonight is for fun.

“Can’t have two Daddies, you know. Gotta think of sumthin’ else to call Daryl,” Rick says. He leads you up the stairs, and he follows with Daryl following him, and he can’t see it but the other man just shakes his head.

“Think I earned that title fair and square, man. Made her cum six times the other night,” a little pause, when they get to the door of the Rick’s bedroom and block the doorway while you get on the bed. Your dress is slipping off your shoulder, and later that night, Rick will tell you he knows you did that salt thing on purpose, because you’re an exhibitionist little brat. Could see how wet you were, from the spot on your panties as you took your clothes off for him and Daryl while you were on the bed.

But for now, in the present, Daryl takes his shirt off. “She can have two Daddies if she wants. Can have anything she wants,” he promises, walking closer to the bed.

Rick’s already taking his belt off. He laughs, loves how much Daryl loves you, before shutting the bedroom door. And just in case, he locks it.

“Whatever you say, Uncle Daryl.”

“Fuck off,” Daryl replies, and then you whine, tossing your panties in the direction of the both of them.

“No, fuck me already!”

‎ just a little oneshot bc i missed my bfs 🩷 part two coming soon!

[pagesfromthevoid]

Honey & Glass | r. r. | 3

Robert “Bob” Reynolds x superpowered!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mentions of void. But otherwise tooth rotting fluff.

Author’s Note: Technically the end of the story. But I’m sure I’ll write more about her and Bob over the course of those 14 months soon

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | AO3

“You’re all idiots, just come up stairs,” Valentina’s voice echoes through the main floor of the old Avengers Tower. 

The Thunderbolts –as Alexei decided they would be called –glanced at each other wearily. Bucky doesn’t trust a thing that comes out of Valentina’s mouth. Not a goddamn word. But her agents have stood down, and there’s a clear path to the elevator. And he really needs to save his assistant. And Bob. 

He’s getting too old for this shit, honestly.

When the doors open, Valentina immediately starts spouting her usual bullshit.

“How crazy is it to think about all of the…monumental fights that happened exactly here, where you’re standing?” She spouts, pouring herself a glass of champagne as the team approaches. “I mean, the place wasn’t cheap. But it’s got good optics.” She pauses, looking up finally and smiling at all of them. 

“This ends today,” Bucky says, stepping forward in front of the rest of them.

“Congressman Barnes. You know, I never really thought you’d have a promising political career –but less than half a term? Yikes.”

“We’re taking you in, Val,” Walker cuts in, rolling his eyes. 

Valentina scoffs though, setting her glass down. “I don’t think so, junior varsity Captain America.”

Bucky is trying to get eyes on his assistant; he knows she’s here. She has to be. Same with Mel. But Walker goes to pull his gun and Bucky snaps at him. “Walker.”

Valentina just smiles, knowing that Bucky isn’t going to let her get killed by any of them. He wants to let them; he understands. But he needs de Fontaine alive –he needs her to face consequences the right way or everything he’s done –everything he’s trying to do –will mean nothing. 

“Nice to see you, Ava –and Yelena. Wow. You look…awful. You sure you’re ready for that public facing role you asked me about?”

Yelena sneers, stepping around Bucky now herself. “Eat shit, Valentina. Where’s Bob?”

“And Bucky’s assistant,” Walker interjects. Bucky narrows his eyes, reminding them she has a goddamn name.

But Valentina just chuckles again, like all of this is some big joke. “Look at you. You are all so adorable. Just think –I send you down there to kill each other and instead, you make nice and form a team!”

“Where are they?” Ava asks one more time, but her tone is clipped. They’re all about ready to pounce.

“They’re both fine. Working together, actually. I told you, Congressman Barnes –your girl is a swiss army knife. She’s got talents far beyond what you give her credit for. Robert?”

There’s a pause –just long enough that they can hear footsteps. Heels clicking behind boots. Then Bucky feels it –that tingle at the base of his skull. The uncomfortable pin pricks of her getting into his head. He looks around, noticing everyone else feels it too –except Valentina.

Don’t freak out, she says, Well, not about me. I would freak out about Bob. I wouldn’t fight him.

Walker is about to say something but Ava is the one that catches on that it’s their heads first. Don’t worry about fighting. You’ll get out of here soon.

She’s about to say something, Bucky can tell, but Valentina is talking again.

“Years of hard work have finally come to fruition,” she explains, motioning to Bob who comes to stand beside the director. Behind him stands Bucky’s assistant, who is shifting uneasily as she stares up at Bob. She doesn’t look scared –not of Bob, at least. She looks…worried. “Stronger than all of the Avengers combined. He has the power of a thousand exploding suns –Earth’s mightiest hero. The Golden Guardian of Good. The Sentry.”

Bucky can’t help but make a face at all of this posturing. “I’ll bite –what do you plan to do now? Take over the world like every other bad guy?”

But the director scoffs again, shaking her head. “Oh, god no. Robert here –Sentry, as he’s aptly named –is a hero, James. He’s going to protect the world. Where the Avengers have failed, he will succeed.” She turns to Bob now, putting a careful hand on his arm. Bucky notes that she almost flinches, like she’s expecting something bad to happen when she touches him. But nothing seems to happen. “Robert, take care of them, will you?” 

Bob looks down at Valentina for a moment, then glances back at the young woman behind him. Like he’s waiting for her permission. But she doesn’t make a motion one way or another, fear freezing her finally. Bucky knows that look; it’s the same look she had when she came in six months ago after being cornered and he decided to teach her to fight. 

Cornered. Frustrated. Powerless.

“C’mon guys –just give yourselves up. I don’t…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Do not fight him. You will not win, she insists as Valentina steps back, pulling her along. But that falls on deaf ears as a dogfight breaks out. Bucky can’t keep track of how many punches he throws or how many knives he breaks. Walker’s shield is twisted into him and he’s thrown across the room. Every punch, every shot, every attack –it’s like they’re nothing. The guy doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t bruise, he doesn’t bleed. 

But they do.

All of them do.

He only stops when she cries out as Bucky’s arm is ripped off his shoulder and thrown to the ground. She’s shoving away from Valentina, finally putting the skills Bucky has taught her to some use to throw Valentina off balance and twist out of her grip. Bob watches as she throws down the files that she’s been forced to carry and drops down to grab her boss’s arm. The rest of them are rushing to the elevator, trying to get away as fast as they can. But she’s hesitating, looking between Bob and her boss –her friend. 

Don’t hurt them, she says but her lips aren’t moving. Bob realizes –that tingle at the base of his skull –it’s her. Please.

Yelena is yanking her into the elevator, but she’s trying to look at him with pleading eyes as the doors shut. Please.

But she hears him –a voice, distorted. Dark. Shadowed in his mind but loud enough in her own that she can feel it in her very bones.

They always leave. Even when they promise they won’t.

When they get to the ground floor –and they’re sure that Bob is not going to come finish them off –Bucky turns on her.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? What did I tell you about getting closer to Valentina?”

She flinches back, not expecting to be scolded after the events of the last few days. “I wasn’t thinking –I was talking to Mel –,”

“You’re right. You weren’t thinking. You could have been killed.”

“Hey, hey –do not yell at her,” Yelena cuts in, stepping between her and Bucky. The Russian puts her hand up. “She did not know she was going to be kidnapped –she was doing her job. Which –by the way –you taught her to do. So it is technically your fault.”

“Oh no –,” she starts, shaking her head quickly.

“It is not my fault –,”

She shushes them all suddenly, throwing her hands out to the sides. Everyone is staring at her like she’s insane, but she’s staring like she’s listening intently to something. Ava says something, tries to get her attention, but she waves her away. 

“Something’s wrong,” she says, spinning around several times. 

Her eyes lock into the sky just beside the tower –a shadowed, caped figure. She wants to think it’s not something evil –it’s not Bob, it can’t be. Deep down, though, she recognizes this figure. She’s seen it in his mind before –and those eyes. The only part of the figure that’s not casted in shadows –two white, glowing spots that look directly into the soul –are staring down at them.

He puts his hand out and the helicopter that is circling spins out of control suddenly, crashing into the tower. One by one, people around them disappear into shadows themselves, and she tries to step forward –tries to save someone; anyone. But Alexei holds her back gently. Bucky and Alexei stand on either side of her, looking up in horror as Yelena steps forward with Ava. Walker is pulling off his helmet, following their gazes as shadows creep up the buildings surrounding the engulfed tower. 

“You all know the truth,” he says. And it’s Bob’s voice –she knows it. But it’s distorted and full of anger. The same voice she heard earlier –the one that told Bob that they always leave. “You can’t outrun the emptiness.”

“I think Bob’s dark side got superpowers,” Walker states, eyes wide as they all stare in horror. “We need to get everyone off the streets.”

They’re all too distracted to notice that she does not follow them. That she stays planted in place, looking up at the figure that is slowly creeping its way towards her as the shadows begin to consume those around it. Vaguely, she registers that Bucky is yelling her name but she ignores him as she takes half a step forward towards the shadows.

“You promised you wouldn’t leave,” he says, peering down at her. “You did though. You left. Just like Yelena said –we’re all alone in the end.”

Bucky is screaming at her now, and so is Walker. But Yelena steps to her right and looks at her –knowingly, as if the former Black Widow knows something that was never shared between the two of them. Then, Yelena steps forward into the shadows. And he watches, waits. His thoughts are much clearer than Bob’s. They’re more violent; more feral. But they’re easier to understand.

“He’s not alone. And neither are you,” she promises, taking the plunge into the shadows herself. 

*****

In the end, they do what superheroes always do:

They save the world from the bad guy.

Except the bad guy wasn’t actually a person.

It was loneliness, and self-loathing. It was the darkness that surrounds you when you’re at your lowest and think it’s the end. It was the hardest parts of life thrown at you all at once, trying to drown you.

It’s something that…doesn’t just go away. And it didn’t just go away. 

It’s there. It’s lingering.

But that Void –as they’ve been calling it –can’t be ignored. But it can be filled –and that’s what they’ve been doing. For Bob, for themselves, for each other. Valentina did a lot of bad –but out of that bad has come some good. 

She has friends, for example. Though Alexei would insist they’re family, even if they’ve known each other a month. And she has a job that pays obscenely well (though, given the PR nightmare that is her new team, it better). 

Bucky made it clear that he wasn’t going to take part in anything relating to the team if she wasn’t hired as their PR manager. Yelena had seconded that notion, and Valentina wasn’t really in a place to negotiate so here she is. Living in New York City, with what could be described as her own floor of the Watch Tower, trying to clean up the team’s PR nightmare.

Living in the WatchTower is…weird, she thinks.

She’s gone from living in a crappy little apartment in DC with a random roommate she met on Facebook, to living in what was once the Avengers Tower in New York. With the New Avengers. 

This isn’t how she imagined her life. Though she can’t complain. 

When she isn’t trying to convince Walker to stop arguing with trolls on Twitter (“Seriously. This is what they want. Give me your phone.”) or stop Alexei from getting random sponsors from internet scams (“Sponsors will not ask for your credit card!”), she’s kind of actually enjoying herself. She makes good money, she has good friends, and her job isn’t that bad. 

The team is a hot mess. Don’t get her wrong —they truly are a PR nightmare. But they’re her PR nightmare and it’s not like she can get fired if she doesn’t do a good job at helping them. 

However, she’s doing a damn good job at helping them. 

Tonight is a great example. She’s sitting in the kitchen, finishing an outline for the next meeting with Valentina. Because while the director might think she’s in charge, she is not —and the team has entrusted their PR manager to ensure meetings with the director go their way and no one else’s. 

It’s late; she should probably be asleep. But she likes being up late when the team is out doing training because then she’s awake when they’re back. Though, it also means she gets to work in her pajamas and she much prefers that. And Alexei, bless him, has given her so many random shirts that are twice her size with New Avengers logos on them that she has a nightshirt for every night to wear with her boxer shorts that she definitely didn’t steal from the laundry the first week they all lived together. 

Bob —who has been distant and quiet most of the day —wanders into the kitchen. He’s wrapped up in a sheet, though he’s also wearing a sweater and sweats, and she briefly wonders how he’s not hot. She keeps an eye on him from her computer, though she doesn’t say anything initially. Sometimes he needed that push to talk, sometimes it was clear he didn’t want to. Tonight felt like the latter. 

They have…some kind of relationship. More than friends but less than dating. A weird in between that she doesn’t mind but is a bit confusing.

It’s clear they have some sort of feelings for one another. After everything that happened last month, she couldn’t help how she felt. Though she takes everything at his pace.

He clings to her (not literally but he’s always as close as he can be without making her uncomfortable). When the team is on missions and he’s left behind, she’s with him. Him reading, her working on whatever PR problem they’re facing now. Sometimes they lay on the couch together and watch movies.

Because she’s the only one he can touch without shame spiraling them, Bob likes to hold her hand whenever he can. That’s all he’ll do in front of the team; they don’t question that. But he lays his head in her lap when they’re alone. She plays with his hair absently and does whatever she’s doing. He just sort of exists in that moment and enjoys it while it lasts. And they just enjoy whatever they have.

When he drops his spoon three times in a row, she finally speaks up. 

“Are you good?” She asks, shutting her laptop. He’s staring at the spoon on the ground, clearly contemplating getting it. She slips off the chair and does it for him. “You don’t look too hot.”

He waves her off, but she can see the thin layer of sweat that stuck to his hair and skin. She reaches up to touch his forehead, though it dawns on her as soon as she touches him that there’s no real way to check his temperature. 

“Bob, we talked about this,” she reminds him gently. 

He huffs some and nods a bit, pushing his hair out of his face. “Just…I can’t sleep. That’s all. Nightmares and stuff —hard to sleep when I can’t control those. I’ll be okay though.”

“Do you have them a lot?”

He just nods and shrugs, opening the fridge to take a bottle of water. “Yeah. Less when the others are around —think that’s why I fall asleep during meetings.”

She hums in response, taking a note of that, then nods. “Let me know if I can help.”

“I don’t think you can,” he replies simply, but it doesn’t seem like he minds as he smiles at her wearily. Then he starts to leave, calling over his shoulder, “Thanks though.”

She wants to argue, but stops herself. “At least hang out here with me then,” she counters, pushing her laptop across the counter and trailing behind him. “I just finished Friday’s outline; we can put something mindless on and maybe that’ll help you sleep? That helps me.”

He hesitates, clearly considering it, then nods some. She motions for him to follow her, and they end up finding themselves sitting in the living room. For a moment, she’s staring at the buttons on everything before realizing —she’s never actually turned anything on up here. Usually it’s just on. Or Bucky does it for her. 

“Oh shit, hm.”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, sitting up some and leaning over. 

“I…don’t know what does what. I need to label all this shit,” she laughs sheepishly, sitting down beside him. “Any ideas?”

He shrugs. “I just push things ‘til something happens.”

“Fun idea,” she offers, crossing her arms over her chest as she considers what to do next. “But I don’t touch buttons I don’t know how to use. I’ve seen plenty of movies that say that’s a bad idea.”

“What do we do then?”

She hums, looking around. The room is lit with dimmed lights and the cityscape is glowing around them. Then she grabs two of the throw pillows on the couch. 

“You trust me?” She asks, looking down at him. She’s smiling, holding out her hand to him.

Bob doesn’t hesitate this time, taking her hand and pulling himself up. He doesn’t let go, either because this is his way of saying he does trust her or because he just wants to touch her. But she doesn’t care one way or another because she leads him to the elevator and hits the up button. 

They stand in silence, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder as the elevator shoots up to the top floor. Bob is fidgeting, and without even poking into his head, she knows he’s worried about what they’re doing. But she just squeezes his hand reassuringly as the doors open. Then she pulls him along towards the staircase that leads to the helipad outside. 

There’s one more set of stairs that leads to a small balcony –nothing fancy; probably there as an observation deck. But she found it the second night there after having tried to label a map of the tower for everyone. She didn’t label this part for selfish reasons, though anyone can find it if they really try.

The pillows drop to the ground and she kicks them some to adjust them to be cushions. Then, she pulls her hand from Bob’s and sits down, legs dangling over the edge and arms braced against the railing. The way the tower is shaped blocks the wind, but allows for an excellent view of the entire city from this vantage point. Rest in peace, Tony Stark, she thinks, because this is the best thing he designed in this tower. Bob is hesitant but sits down beside her, though he criss-crosses his legs under him instead of letting them dangle. 

Shoulders brush again, and she reaches out to take his hand without a word. He interlocks their fingers, no questions asked, and leans against her. And for a while, they just sit there in silence. They don’t really need to speak; they have each other’s company and that’s all she really needs. She hopes this is enough for him too.

An hour or so must pass, because he adjusts slightly and she lets out a small laugh as he lays his head in her lap without question. She runs her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp as she does so and he closes his eyes

“We gonna camp out up here tonight?” She asks, voice soft and finally tinged with tiredness.

“Can we?” 

She considers it for a moment. He’s warm enough that it’s comfortable, even if there’s a slight chill in the air from being so high up. The team won’t be back until the early hours of the morning, so it’s not like they’ll be looking for the two of them right away. So she just nods and taps him to get him to move, then pulls her legs up off the edge. Bob moves the sheet he’s discarded to cover the ground some and she adjusts the pillows to be used properly now. 

Then they just lay down, face to face. They’re almost nose to nose, and Bob is smiling softly, the weariness that he had earlier just barely apparent in his eyes now. 

“Can I try something?” She asks, and he nods once, brows furrowing. Her hand moves slowly, resting on his cheek. “You’re going to feel that weird little pin prick.”

Bob braces for it; closes his eyes. She knows he doesn’t like it when she’s in his head; not because he doesn’t like her powers but because he doesn’t want her to be afraid of whatever is going on in it. She doesn’t mind whatever she sees, though, because she knows that he’s trying to be better. He’s working on it, and they’re all there to help him. So when his mind floods into hers, and she sees the fragments of the nightmares from earlier –the ones that are just brimming on the edge if he closes his eyes.

It’s him –well, it’s Void, actually. And it’s the lab where Void almost won. In this nightmare, though, he does. Consumed by the shadows, and the self-loathing. And Bob is standing there, unable to stop and save all of them. There’s crying and begging. She even hears her own voice, telling him that he’s only made things worse.

But then…she pushes it away. Sort of, at least.

They’re still there —still scary. But not as loud or as violent. Their faces are blurred out and Void is gone, replaced by just a shadow figure without eyes or a voice. It takes a lot of energy to do this –she’s never really held it longer than an hour or so –but touching him is helping keep it up. 

His breathing is even –soft, calm. He’s let out a soft, “oh,” having not experienced this level of calmness in a long time –if ever. Even if the thoughts aren’t as violent, they’re still there. But she’s trying to push them all away; replace them with something good. Though it takes most of her energy to even blur the current thoughts. 

But a new thought –not one she’s planted, but his own –flashes in her mind. It’s him and her. Where they are –above the city, looking at each other. And he’s reaching out to her. But he’s not timid in his own thoughts. He’s confident, and instead of taking her hand, he’s taking her by the waist and pulling her closer and –

“Oh my god,” he suddenly cries, pulling away and sitting up. He’s blushing furiously, covering his face. “I’m so sorry –that’s not –I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry –,”

She sits up, pulling his hands away from his face. She can feel the flush on her cheeks, but it’s a good thing as far as she’s concerned. “Hey, don’t apologize –I’m not uncomfortable.”

He looks at her with surprise, blue eyes swimming in confusion and dare she assumes, a little bit of hope. “You’re not?”

Laughter bubbles up and she can’t help it. “Bob, we hold hands pretty much every day. We basically cuddle any time no one else is around. Do you think I’d do that if I wasn’t comfortable?”

“I mean, you’re always nice to me. I just thought, you know, because you’re the only one that doesn’t get pulled in –you’re just doing that to be nice.”

She can’t help herself. She should have been patient, but he’s so…endearingly blind, and she realizes that if she doesn’t do it now, it may never happen. Her lips are on his without another word, leaning into him to get close. Unfortunately, Bob doesn’t seem to expect this –though he’s very excited nonetheless because his thoughts are just repeating holy shit, holy shit, holy shit and he falls onto his back. She falls with him because she doesn’t expect him to not know she’s going to kiss him. But his hands find her waist, and she catches herself by her hands on either side of him.

And he’s looking up at her with a faint blush on his cheeks, and she’s looking down at him with a bright smile that she can’t contain.

“Can we try that again?” She asks, and he nods quickly, closing the distance himself this time. 

One hand finds itself tangled in her hair and the other is gripping her waist like she’s going to disappear. The connection to his mind has been severed, but she doesn’t need to read his mind when she’s laying on top of him anyway. The kiss is awkward and a bit messy –neither of them have clearly been this close to another person in a while. But something about that only makes it better as she presses herself closer to him. 

He makes a sound –it’s quiet, but an obvious whine as she nips at his bottom lip. Her tongue slips past his lips and he makes that sound again, a little louder this time. A little more desperate. But it’s him who pulls away, and she wants to be okay with that but honestly, she’s more flustered than she’s willing to admit. They’re both breathing hard but she rolls off him and lays on her side, hands tucked under her head as Bob lays flat on his back and covers his face. 

“I –sorry, I couldn’t breathe,” he admits with an awkward laugh. And she laughs too, shaking her head.

“It happens,” she reassures.

There’s a pause, then she shifts, laying her head on his chest. He tenses just a bit, perhaps not expecting her to want to keep touching after all of that. But he relaxes, and drops his hands from his face, then slowly wraps his arms around her. He’s unsure, but when she presses closer to him, he squeezes her tight and rests her cheek against the top of her head.

“Thank you,” he whispers into her hair, and his voice is sluggish with exhaustion.

*****

“Look at the two lovebirds!” Alexei yells, pointing at the security feed in the conference room.

Bucky looks up from his phone, frowning some as everyone gathers around the monitors to see her and Bob, asleep, on the roof. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s seen, but it’s not what he’s expecting.

“Finally,” Yelena complains, throwing her hands in the air. “I thought we were going to have to lock them in a closet or something.”

“Should we go wake them up?” Ava asks, kicking her feet onto the table. “Valentina will be here any minute. Do we really want to give her any kind of leverage over us?”

“Leave them be,” Bucky says, tossing his phone onto the table. “Just shut off that camera. We’ll make up an excuse why they’re not here.”

The team agrees not to bring it up. Let the two have whatever time they want together.

Bucky’s just thankful he doesn’t have to listen to her complain about how hot Bob is anymore.

———

Taglist: @ilovemarvel12 @k1ttyjuice @magikdarkholme

[andy-15-07]

Say Something

paring ✦ Ellie Williams x fem!reader

word count ✦ 1321 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

The Last Of Us Masterlist

The snow hadn’t stopped falling for two days straight. A thick, muffled silence wrapped Jackson in a stillness that made everything feel fake, like time itself had frozen. Except for the hospital,where time pressed down like a boot on your chest.

Y/N sat on the edge of a stiff, metal chair in the corner of Ellie’s room. The walls were bare, the window fogged up. Her hands twisted in her lap. Ellie hadn’t said a word in two days. She just lay there, eyes fixed on a point somewhere past the ceiling, bandaged and bruised, her lip split from the fight that led them here, but her silence,that was what really hurt.

Joel was gone.

And Ellie was disappearing with him.

Y/N stood up and crossed the room, slow and careful. She didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want to push too hard. Ellie had always been stubborn,blunt and sarcastic and angry,but now, she was empty. Quiet. A shell.

“I brought you soup,” Y/N said, voice soft, trying. “It’s still warm. I, uh... I made it the way you like. Kinda. They didn’t have oregano, but,”

Ellie didn’t blink. Her eyes didn’t even flick toward the bowl Y/N placed on the bedside table.

Y/N exhaled. “You can’t just stop eating, El.”

No answer.

Y/N sat back down, closer now. She stared at Ellie’s profile, her pale skin, the cuts on her cheek that hadn’t fully healed yet. The bruises were yellowing. Her fingers twitched beneath the blanket like she wanted to curl them into fists and couldn’t quite make the effort.

“People are asking about you,” Y/N said, trying again. “Maria came by. Dina, too. Jesse offered to fix your guitar. Said he found strings.”

Still nothing. Not even a flinch.

“Ellie.”

Her name came out raw, cracked. “Please.”

Finally, Ellie blinked. Just once. Her gaze shifted, slowly, toward the window.

Y/N felt her heart leap,but Ellie didn’t look at her.

“You don’t get to shut down like this,” Y/N whispered. “You don’t get to leave me too.”

That got something. A flicker,barely noticeable,but Ellie’s jaw clenched. Her eyes closed for a second, like maybe if she shut them tight enough, she could shut everything out.

Y/N stood again. Paced now. The hospital room was too small. The air too cold.

“You know what he said to me?” she asked. “Before you came back from Salt Lake?”

Still silence.

“He told me to keep an eye on you,” Y/N went on. “Told me that you’re strong, but you hold everything in. That when it all goes to shit, you won’t talk to anyone. Not even him. So he asked me to be there for you. To stay. Because he knew,he knew,you’d do this.”

Ellie turned her head away.

“I am here, Ellie,” Y/N said, louder. Angrier. “I’m right fucking here. And I can’t help you if you won’t even look at me.”

“Then don’t.”

The words hit like a punch.

Y/N froze. It was the first thing Ellie had said in days.

“What?” she asked, quiet.

Ellie finally turned to face her. Her voice was hoarse, low, but it still cut. “You should go.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted. “No.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I don’t care,” Y/N snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t get to push me away and think I’ll just vanish.”

Ellie flinched. “Why not? Everyone else does.”

“I’m not everyone else.”

Ellie looked at her. Really looked. And for a second, Y/N saw it,the heartbreak. The guilt. The fury.

“Joel’s dead,” Ellie said, flat.

“I know.”

“I watched it happen. I heard his ribs snap. I,” Her voice broke and she looked down. “I couldn’t stop it.”

Y/N moved fast, dropping to her knees beside the bed, hands reaching for Ellie’s.

“You couldn’t have stopped it,” Y/N said. “No one could have. It wasn’t your fault.”

Ellie shook her head, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it hurt. “I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve,should’ve protected him. I always told him I didn’t need him, but the truth is,he needed me. And I,”

“You loved him.”

Ellie looked at her again. Her eyes were glassy now. Red-rimmed.

“I said things to him,” she whispered. “Before... before we left Jackson last time. Things I didn’t mean.”

Y/N’s hand slid into Ellie’s. This time, she didn’t pull away.

“You had time to fix it,” Y/N said gently.

“Not enough.”

Ellie’s voice cracked. A tear slipped down her cheek and Y/N reached up, wiped it with her thumb.

“I can’t do this,” Ellie whispered. “I can’t feel this. It’s too much. It’s all too much.”

“I know,” Y/N said. “I know it is.”

Ellie’s breathing grew shallow, faster. “I wake up and I hear him calling me. Sometimes I think I see him. I go to say something and then I remember and it hits me all over again like it just fucking happened,”

Y/N pulled her into her arms. Ellie tensed for a second, fighting it, but then something gave, and she sank into Y/N’s chest, trembling.

“I feel like I’m going insane,” Ellie choked. “Like if I let go, if I start crying, I won’t stop.”

Y/N held her tighter. “Then I’ll hold you until you do.”

Ellie buried her face in Y/N’s shoulder and broke. No sobs,just sharp, quiet gasps. Silent grief that wracked her body. Her fingers dug into Y/N’s jacket, like she needed an anchor to keep from slipping under.

“You’re allowed to be hurt,” Y/N whispered into her hair. “You don’t have to carry all of it alone.”

Ellie didn’t answer, but she didn’t push away either.

They stayed like that for a long time. The snow kept falling outside the window. The heater buzzed faintly. Ellie’s breath was warm against Y/N’s collarbone.

After a while, Ellie sat up. Her cheeks were blotchy, nose red, but her eyes looked a little clearer. Her voice, still hoarse, was softer now.

“Why are you still here?” she asked.

Y/N looked at her like it was obvious. “Because I love you.”

Ellie’s throat bobbed. She looked down at their hands.

“I’m not good for anyone,” she murmured. “I break things. I,I ruin everything I touch.”

Y/N leaned in, forehead resting against Ellie’s.

“You didn’t ruin him,” she said. “And you haven’t ruined me.”

Ellie blinked back another wave of tears.

“I feel so... empty without him,” she whispered. “Like part of me got torn out and nothing’s going to fill it.”

“Then let me help you carry what’s left,” Y/N said, voice shaking. “You don’t have to fix it right now. You just have to stay.”

Ellie pulled in a shaky breath. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Y/N said. “Me too.”

They sat in silence again. Not the cold silence from before, but something softer,wounded, but real. Y/N brushed Ellie’s messy hair back from her face and kissed her forehead.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Y/N said. “Just let me stay.”

Ellie nodded. Just once.

Y/N shifted to sit beside her on the bed, back against the wall. Ellie leaned into her slowly, like it hurt to trust her body again. Y/N wrapped her arm around her, drawing her close.

Minutes passed. The light outside grew darker, colder.

“Do you remember that joke Joel told?” Ellie said suddenly, voice small. “About the scarecrow?”

Y/N smiled faintly. “The one about being outstanding in his field?”

Ellie let out a short, fragile laugh. “God, it was so bad.”

“He thought it was comedy gold.”

They both went quiet again. Then Ellie whispered, “I miss his stupid voice.”

Y/N squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

Ellie laid her head on Y/N’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

“Will you stay tonight?”

“Always.”

Y/N listened to her breathing slowly even out. The worst of the storm howled beyond the walls of Jackson, but in that small hospital room, Ellie Miller finally let herself fall apart in someone’s arms.

And for the first time in days, she slept.

[hoshifighting]

and like also i sooooo need riding jihoons abs while he's hard as hell and all tied up

a/n: what I love most about woozi's stans on this site is that they match my freak. shout out to @wooziorgans , you, @jihootea , @thepoopdokyeomtouched @wifeyoozi !!! LOVE YALL ❤️

jihoon tied up + abs riding

WARNINGS: smut, abs riding, arms tied up [look at picture 2 for education purposes 🤪], body fluids [cum, sweat], handjob, whiny jihoon.

jihoon had me hooked since the day he started hitting the gym. like, i always knew he was strong but holy shit, now it’s like he can’t even fit through a door with those biceps of his. but his abs? bro.

you were gone the second you saw them in full view. shredded, perfectly cut, like they were carved out of stone. you always joked about it to him, telling him you could probably ride them. he’d get all flustered, avoiding eye contact like, “why would you do that when i got something else you could ride?”

and irght now, he was sprawled out in front of you, wrists tied above his head with that same red string he usually used to tie you up. his abs were on full show, stretched out as he strained a bit against the restraint, and the way his chest was heaving, his eyes just begging you to touch him? you were living for it.

and the thing is, you weren’t even going easy on him today. you finally decided to act on that 'crazy' idea. sliding your slick right along the lines of his abs, feeling how they tensed under you. you could feel the heat radiating off him, how he was trembling with the need to touch you but couldn’t. his cock was hard, poking your ass, leaking so much it was making a damn mess on his own stomach, adding to the wetness you were already leaving behind. but he couldn’t do shit except flex those abs harder every time you grinded against him.

“fuck… y/n… what the hell…” jihoon was losing it, his voice all breathy, words punched out between heavy pants. he flexed again, his muscles rippling underneath you, and you couldn’t help the whimper that left your mouth at how fucking good it felt. his cock brushed against you when you ride backwards, making him whine desperately, head pressing back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut like he was trying so hard to hold back. “ride me properly or let me go—either way, i need you to fucking touch me.”

BUT you were too into the way his body was reacting, how frustrated he was getting. you reached down, rubbing your fingers over the tip of his cock, gathering up the precum that was practically spilling out of him. he bucked his hips at the feeling, a choked moan escaping his lips.

“this what you wanted, jihoon?” you teased, leaning down just enough for your lips to graze his ear. “all tied up and desperate like this? look at you, leaking all over yourself.”

he groaned, trying to pull at the restraints. “you’re fucking cruel,” he panted, voice shaking. “how am i supposed to—fuck—how am i supposed to last when you’re like this?” he flexed again, this time harder, making you moan loud as his abs rubbed against your clit.

“i’m not even touching you, jihoon, and you’re already cummin?” you teased, grinding down just a little faster, feeling the slickness between you grow. “imagine how you’re gonna be when i actually let you fuck me.”

he let out another whimper, this one louder, his hips jerking up as his cock rubbed against your skin. you reached back again, brushing your fingers over his red and swollen tip, caressing the slit lightly, teasing him with just enough pressure to push him further into desperation.

“please,” jihoon finally broke. “please, baby. untie me. let me fuck you. let me make you feel good.” his abs flexed again, making you whine. “i need to touch you. fuck, i need to—”

but you just smirked, enjoying every second of his unraveling. “but baby..,” you whispered, grinding down one last time, feeling the pressure on your clit hit just right. “i think you like this more than you’re letting on, hoon.”

your hand wrapped around his cock, feeling the weight of it pulsing in your palm, and you moved in sync with your hips, grinding down against his abs while stroking him slow. jihoon’s body tensed, his head turning to the side as he bit into his bicep to muffle the sound threatening to pour out of him. his whole body was trembling under you “oh, what’s wrong, hoon?” you cooed, but he knew your tone wasn't sweet at all.. “can’t handle it? poor baby..” you squeezed his cock just a little tighter, dragging your hand up his length, feeling how sticky his skin was from all the precum leaking out of him. “you gonna cum already? haven’t even properly touched you yet.”

he let out a muffled groan against his arm, his teeth sinking into the hard muscle, trying to keep from making too much noise, but it was fucking useless. his body was betraying him, hips jerking up to meet the slow rhythm of your hand, his cock twitching with every stroke. you watched as his cheeks, already flushed pink, deepened into a full-on red, sweat beading on his forehead, his lips parted as he gasped for air.

“s-stop teasing—hmpf!”

you grinned, your hips rolling faster, your hand speeding up to match, feeling his cock throb harder with each pump. “what’s that?” you teased, tilting your head to the side. “can’t hear you over all those pretty little moans, baby. speak up.”

jihoon turned his head back, eyes blown wide, pupils dilated, mouth hanging open as the desperate sounds started spilling out of him uncontrollably. “i c-can’t—fuck!” his voice cracked as his back arched off the bed, the muscles in his abs flexing under you as he tried to hold back, his body shaking with the effort. “y/n, please… please, fuck…”

you couldn’t help but giggle softly, leaning down, lips grazing over the side of his neck. licking a long stripe, tasting the salty skin.

he groaned, head turning to the side again, but this time his mouth fell open, and he wasn’t even trying to muffle it anymore. “f-fuck, y/n… you’re g-gonna—fuck, i’m gonna—”

“you gonna cum already, baby?” you whispered, your voice wicked. you squeezed his cock just a little tighter, twisting your wrist as you pumped him harder, feeling the way he was twitching in your hand. “go ahead, baby boy, cum for me. make a fucking mess.”

“oh, fuck—” his voice broke, his body jerking uncontrollably beneath you as he came hard, cum spilling over your hand and shooting your lowerback before pooling onto his stomach, mixing with the sweat and the mess you were already making. he let out a strangled moan, hips bucking up wildly as he lost all control.

you kept moving, your hand milking him through it, drawing out every last drop, your hips grinding down harder as his abs flexed one last time beneath you, making your clit throbb instantly. you moaned softly, the pressure on your clit finally pushing you to the edge, your body trembling as you followed him over, and you sure he felt you growing wetter right on his belly skin.

jihoon continued with his broken whimpers as he lay there, his face was flushed deep red now, his skin glistening with sweat, and his eyes were hazy, unfocused as he blinked up at the ceiling.

“fuck… i can feel you pulsing” he finally breathed out, chuckling a bit “you… you— i mean— im going to work out harder, so you can do it again baby..” he promised as you untied him.

“oh? again? did you liked it then?” you wringled your eyebrows at him.

“stop looking at me like that!” he sulked with his now, free hands, covering his face.

[ch3rrybbie]

Homelander is so “please please please” coded except even if it’s him doing the wrongs he’d also be the one begging her LMAOOO (this is a fem reader request<3)

Please,please,please.

Part 2

Homelander x fem!reader

Warnings: stormfront🤢,angst,cheating?,violence,sexual mentions, Homelander is down BAD for reader lolll

Note from author: I love your mind anon hope you enjoy🫣 made reader not a supe as I feel like it’s even better he’s simping for someone he’d otherwise look down on heheh

———

He is pathetic.

You’d been ignoring him which was extremely hard to do considering his sheer influence not to mention his powers. He was the world’s biggest superhero and here he was on his knees for you. Eyes glossy and red and a face as pleading as you’d ever seen.

I mean getting caught having stormfront as his new supe wifey was your last straw. You understood the arrangement and even loved it you could just be together be yourselves you saw the true him and not “the Homelander”.

But this wasn’t what you agreed to.

———

He’d been more erratic than usual, instead of dressing up like a civilian (let’s be real he throws on a vought baseball cap) and going on your usual dates he came up with a “fun idea” to just stay inside. You relented, but after days of fucking and takeouts cabin fever set in. He thought if he could keep you from vought news and your phone you wouldn’t find out. That if he touched you in the right ways you’d melt into his plan.

It was a good thing vought didn’t pay him for thinking.

“Fuck” you muttered as you turned off the plug socket of for the third time, looks like you’d have to go buy a new charger tomorrow. You feel pure muscle wrap around your waist as he hides his head in the crook of your neck.

“what’s wrong baby?” he kisses into your neck and starts caressing your waist.

“Ugh my charger it’s broken, I’ll get a new one tomorrow” you sigh.

He freezes.

Through the mirror that watches you on the wall you see cogs turning in his head, somethings up.

“You don’t need a phone, you have me” he pouts. “Plus this is good for you, all that junk rotting that pretty head”

You huff as he continues,his hands ghost across the your stomach that is taught with anticipation.

“In fact, come back to bed and I’ll clear that pretty little head of yours” he smirks cunningly.

His hand begins to play with the band of your joggers.

You snap out of the haze he’s attempting to throw you in and turn towards him.

“I don’t think it’s my head that needs clearing, tell me what’s going on”.

It’s his turn to throw a tantrum now.

“Y/N you’re being ridiculous what could possibly be wrong?! We’ve been having a lovely week away from the world!” He whines, hands waving around maniacally.

Your eyes narrow as it clicks, “what have you done?” You sigh.

You knew him too well.

He enveloped yet again eyes boring into you, hands clenched around your waist.

“Nothing baby, I just want us to keep having a lovely time in here and not out there with liars and fools who want to tear us apart” he laments.

You quirked a brow unimpressed.

“How about I go get some delicious Vought snacks for us to watch one of my movies with huh?”, he winks.

A great sigh left you and you relented, you’d appease whatever was going on.

Only issue was he made the mistake of leaving the TV remote.

So 10 minutes later and one Vought broadcast, here you were storming out of his apartment at the top of Vought tower.

Deep in self berating you bumped straight into Ashley.

“Oh Y/N lovely to see you where’s Homelander he needs to sign-“

You cut off her fake smile.

“Cut the shit Ashley, you tell that egotistical maniac that if I ever see him again I will fuck him up”

You turn to the elevator cringing, how the hell would you fuck up the worlds strongest supe?!

And how did you not realise all the promos inside the building of him and stormfront???

He flew you up.

You hit the first floor with all you might, tuning out his distant shouts.

———

I’d been days and your apartment was filled with expensive bouquets. His pathetic apology notes piled on your coffee table were marbled with your tears.

You missed him.

You missed late night conversations under the sheets. Feeling safe with him. Fucking him. Him doing anything to make you laugh.

Him.

He’d been at your door almost everyday and didn’t smash through it so bonus points for him, you’d supposed cynically.

You’d even had Billy Butcher and co turn up begging you to join and give them knowledge. The flowers came in handy as you hurled them until all was left was a trajectory of petals in the direction of your door.

———

Your phone rang with an unknown number, fuck it.

“What?” You sighed.

“Y/N it’s Ashley listen he’s coming over” she gasped down the phone.

“That’s not news he does this-“ you sighed.

She cuts you off panicked, “No he’s coming in this time Y/N, he seemed upset you need to leave”.

In all your time with him you’d never been worried about him hurting you no matter what.

You swallowed that sick seed of doubt down and waited for him.

———

The soft thwack of his landing made you leap from your sofa. You sank back down after remembering why he was here.

You longed for him to just sweep you up in his arms and hold you, kiss you, love you as he did so well. You used to love watching him land and stand tall, chest puffed out waiting for you to let him in.

He gently broke the door ignoring the lock that fell to the floor.

His hair was disheveled, eyes bloodshot and watery. He rushed to you clutching your elbows and shrinking in stature.

“Please baby, please please please” he begged.

You huffed turning your head looking anywhere but him a lump lodging in your throat.

He was breaking your heart.

Suddenly his eyes were lined with yours and he somehow halved in stature seeing your hurt.

“I had no choice!” he exclaims, hands dropping from you.

You stand and go to speak yet the words get stuck and dissolve like sour candy.

Hands gliding towards you, he cups your face eyes urging you to speak.

You can’t hold back the tears as sobs wrack your body you could still see so clearly the man you loved.

“Please honey, please let me back in, please tell me what I can do to fix this” he poured these sweet offering upon the altar of your heart and sank to his knees- the deepest of devotees.

He looked up pleadingly, patheticly.

You were his Goddess and sometimes they could be cruel mistresses.

A cold gust of a laugh lit from behind your tears as you sought to push him away.

“Kill her, kill that fucking cunt stormfront” you spat venomously. You weren’t serious but you wanted to hurt him, knowing he’d never do such a thing. To kill a supe for you a mere mortal. As much as his heart was yours, you as all humans were to him were replaceable.

Eyebrows taught mouth hanging open he takes you in, he’d never know you to be this cruel- Godlike.

You could’ve been a supe in that moment, you should’ve been. He starts to grow hard at the thought of you in a supe suit, as powerful as him.

He smiles sickly sweet, rising like a knight in shining armour and licks his lips to yours.

Drawing back he once again grips your face, hard.

Eyes boring into yours he offers a sweet prayer to you.

“Anything” he whispers like an amen.

He is gone as soon as he came.

———

Smutty part 2?🫣😉

Edit: part 2 can be read here