#reminder that no matter what you look like you’re gorgeous and you are loved

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[shu-porang-porang]

Kiss It Better

No one knows what a needy kitty he is but you.

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / reader (gender not specified)

Theme: just fluff coz I'm such a sucker for fluffy Minnie

Warnings: not proofread

Word count: 0.7 k

You’re in your shared apartment, reading a book on the couch, with Soonie curling up in your lap, purring as you pet him. Except for the occasional mewing of the cats, it’s so quite you can hear your heart beat in your ears. You’re growing restless, can't stand waiting for him anymore, you even stayed a bit longer at work so you’d have to spend less time alone. You look at the clock on the wall, he’s late. As you reach for your phone to call him, the apartment door clicks open and the sound startles Soonie off your lap.

He enters and you hear him dropping his bag on the floor. He shuffles out of his sneakers into slippers and finally appears in your sight.

“Hey jagya” he offers you a tired smile and walks over to you.

“Hi love” you reply as he bends to give you a quick kiss before heading to change his clothes.

He comes back and plops down on the couch next to you. You put your book down and open your arms, inviting him into your hug. He circles his arms around you and buries his face in your chest.

“Tough day?” you ask as you play with his hair and draw circles on the small of his back with your other hand.

“mhmm” he hums hugging you tighter.

“It’s okay baby. Your tough day is over. Now you’re with me.” you keep massaging his scalp and he’s practically purring now.

“You did great today, you always do, and I’m so proud of you.” you finish your sentence with a kiss on top of his head and he looks up at you. His gorgeous sparkly eyes looking at you like a lost puppy melt you into a puddle. The little pout on his perfect lips makes it all the more impossible to resist him. So, you cup his face and kiss the pout away.

“I missed you so bad” he sighs against your lips. His lips get back on yours as if they’re finally where they belong. The kiss is slow and sweet, no hurried or sloppy movements, you both take your time pouring love into it. The moment is so pure and wholesome that overwhelms you.

“I love you so much” you break the kiss to remind him of that.

“I love you more”. It’s probably true.

Of course you fell first, he was a world-renowned idol after all, but everyone who knew him could tell that he fell harder, way harder than you’d ever thought possible. Soon enough you became his safe haven, the main source of joy in his life, the one thing he really cared about. That’s why on days like this, the only thing that could help him get through was knowing that you’d be there for him. He often questions himself how was he ever able to live this stressful life before you? But it doesn’t matter anymore, he doesn’t need to worry about his life without you, the only thing that matters is that he has you now.

Your heart is flooded with love. You lean in to gently kiss his forehead. He closes his eyes with a little satisfied smile on his lips, entirely letting himself go in your arms, basking in the warm glow radiated from your love. You plant the softest kisses on his eyes and then the ridge of his nose, it scrunches up cutely.

“Look at you, my adorable big kitty. How did I get so lucky to have you?” you chuckle lightly. His smile grows wider but he keeps his eyes closed, he wants more.

You generously offer him more kisses, on his temple, on his cheek, around the shell of his ear. You make sure to pepper kisses on every inch of his face. How could you not when he’s being so soft and needy for you?

“Are you feeling better baby?” you ask him, caressing his cheek with your thumb. He finally opens his eyes.

“I do, so much better. Thank you”

“Anything for you, love” you lean in for another kiss before he lays his head on your lap and drift off to dreamland with your fingers in his hair, soothing him even more.

[guksfairy]

!bestfriend Jungkook that buys you snacks at the nearest convenience store when he knows you’re feeling under the weather because of course he does. He won’t even hesitate to grab every single snack in an aisle if it means turning your frown into a smile <3

!bestfriend Jungkook that walks to your apartment daily after practice no matter how late/early it is because he knows with even your presence he’ll be fully energized all over again

!bestfriend Jungkook that follows right behind you when your friends ask you to go to the club with them. They’re not even surprised when they spot you walking towards them with Jungkook to your right. He follows to keep you safe and sound. Or so he says.

!bestfriend Jungkook that watches your every move when his hyung walks into the studio to make sure your attention to Eunwoo isn’t more than he’d like. His love for Eunwoo is endearing and he’d do almost anything for his brother. Key word: almost. Jungkook doesn’t need to lose you to Eunwoo so when he walks in, greeting you as Jungkook is finishing up recording, Jungkook grabs all his items in record time along with your hand and guides the two of you out of the building and to your apartment.

!bestfriend Jungkook that doesn’t know how to react when you talk to him about your coworker that has had a crush on you since you first applied to the job. The feeling in his chest confused him in the sense that he doesn’t exactly know why it hurts when his name is brought up.

“Can we change the subject?”

“Oh sure is something wrong?” You ask with concern all over your face.

Shaking his head he replies, “No I just want to move on from this subject,”

You nod before cuddling back into him and resuming the movie you were both previously watching before you interrupted with your story.

!bestfriend Jungkook that doesn’t know he’s in love with you and that his feelings are reciprocated.

“You’re pretty,” he watched you walk out of the dressing room into the private room he booked a few weeks ago wearing a pink dress you've had your eye on for who knows how long.

Jungkook would have bought it for you had you not straight up threatened him to not speak to him for a week because the dress is expensive.

"...and you're a liar,"

"What? How am I lying?" he replies staring at your smile that was simply for him before it fades.

"I don't know if I like it anymore," you frown a bit looking in the mirror not really liking the way it wraps around your body.

"What do you mean? You look beautiful, Y/N," he replies staring at you through the mirror.

You stare back at him for a split second before shaking your head slightly and making your way back to the dressing room before a hand wraps around wrist.

"You look absolutely gorgeous and I will remind you of that every day if I have to," his hands are now on your shoulders and his face is closer than ever.

You stare at his eyes that you've admired every chance you get and his lips you always wanted to feel.

He begins to lean in closer to the point that you feel his warm breath when he exhales.

"Is there anything needed in here?" you hear before you back away staring at the floor.

Jungkook remains where he was with a smirk on his face before looking at the consultant.

"We'll take this dress. Just put it on my card," he says

"Absolutely I'll be back in a minute to pack it up for you," she smiles and pulls the curtain back to the way it was before. You hear her heels fade further and further away.

You clear your throat, "I'm going to change," you say walking back to the dressing room.

Jungkook smiled watching you walk away and realizing you completely did not notice he would be the one purchasing the dress for you.

I guess now he would just have to hope you would still speak to him.

[markzpov]

nct dream : nicknames they call you

𐙚 REMINDER : All of the content below contains mature themes, proceed with caution, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU’RE A MINOR. Everything on this page is a work of fiction and does not correlate with the artists themselves in real life. Do not steal, translate, repost, plagiarize.

mark

my girl — mark is very laid back but he also love showing you off to the world , every time he introduces you to either his friends or anyone he knows he always uses this it’s cute. this nickname is also taken to the bedroom any time you give him head or you finish him off nicely with a little pop his response will always be “that’s my girl”.

dude — he calls you this on a daily but in a very affectionate way it’s not that he doesn’t acknowledge you as his girlfriend it’s actually the opposite he normally calls people he’s very close to this which is why you have gotten used to it since it’s his way of showing affection. this one tho stays out the bedroom tho !

mamas — this man , he knows this is your favourite nickname especially when he says it with his raspy deep ass voice. he knows immediately that he has created a pool in your panties he always uses this when he’s in control (which is most of the time) or anytime you also want to take control. “lemme take care of you mamas” or “spread your legs for me mamas” it gets you every time.

renjun

baby — he only uses this in the bedroom as when he’s in there his brain can’t comprehend actual words so this is the simplest nickname he can use. he loves praising you with this nickname for making him feel good. “good job baby”

darling — when it comes to nicknames renjun is super serious about them he doesn’t want to give you any typical nickname that those little ass boyfriends be calling their one out ten girlfriends. so he decided to call you darling it’s something very special but also cute.

beauty — he always uses this when he wants to remind you that you’re very beautiful it doesn’t matter what other people say he think you’re the prettiest person in the world. he also calls you that in the morning like “wake up my little sleeping beauty”

jeno

angel — he mostly says this on a daily basis this is your most used nickname , he feels comfortable enough to use this around his family and his members without making either you or him or other uncomfortable but he might sometimes bring this nickname in the bedroom. “yess angel swallow that all for me”

gorgeous — he mostly uses this whenever you dress up or you feel insecure , to make you understand that you’re the one and only girl for him and that you look beautiful all dressed up or not it doesn’t matter.

slut — THIS. this right here is his favourite nickname whilst he’s breaking your back and putting you in 72 different positions this man loves to use this nickname in the bedroom it’s his custom to use it.

jaemin

my doll — he uses this sometimes mostly when he’s really adoring you (this man does it every day) but it’s a very cute nickname you like but would like to hear him use way more often. he doesn’t mind using this in front if the members jaemin isn’t really ashamed of what the member think so he doesn’t mind calling you any nickname.

cutie — this nickname he uses it practically all the time he loves adoring you so he treats you like a baby (which most of the time you fight him for) however this nickname it’s very cute and he just loves making you feel like you’re adored

princess — he uses this mostly in the bedroom sure jaemin thinks he's a princess but you? you're like the princess of all princesses to him. plus jaemin feels the need to remind you of your worth day in and day out , which is why he always uses this in the bedroom to remind you about your authority

haechan

sunshine — if he’s the sun he will definitely call you sunshine you literally brighten every part of his life and make his whole day a flowing moment of happiness which he love you for but this is your mostly common nickname coming from him

honey — he loves giving you cute but matured nicknames mostly as jokes but he loves this one because he knows how much you flush when he calls you that even if you don’t show it your cheeks burn up every time

sunflower — he uses this in the bedroom a lot it has some innocence to it like a normal cute flower that people adore and most don’t have no sexual connections to it. now he has you in the bedroom ruining you as his own little sunflower (yes this man has a corruption kink) “my innocent sunflower is getting ruined today”

chenle

baby — chenle's not much of a petnames guy aside from a casual baby here and there but you suppose that's what makes it way more special when he does use them. he mostly uses this when you guys are at home or over text sometimes

sweetie — if he really wants to give you a cute different nickname that you TOTALLY didn’t beg for i think sweetie is the one he chooses for you. he tries to give you the love and praises you deserve through sweet nicknames.

your name — like i said this boy isn’t a very nickname type of person so most time he will use your name like when i mean most times i mean practically all the time , like when he’s with his members , family , even in the bedroom you know. it feels way more natural for him.

jisung

love — jisung is a very shy person so he’s very shy and nervous when it comes to throwing around the phrase “i love you(s)” so instead he made it a nickname for you so it’s doesn’t feel like he’s neglecting your love. every time he calls you this tho he does blush even more than you do

beautiful — he loves to appreciate your beauty it doesn’t matter at what time or at what point he will always give you props for it and he will always make sure you don’t feel like he’s not sharing his love with you so he makes sure to call you beautiful every time you meet eyes.

pretty girl — like i said he loves to appreciate your beauty like jisung knows you’re pretty but there are times that it might be hard for you to accept it and you guys don’t quite share the same opinion and he would immediately say “hey pretty girl looks at me please” and try to comfort you giving you all the loving in the world

© ALL RIGHTS TO MARKZPOV, 2024 do not steal, copy or translate

[starkowswife]

R.C / HEADCANNONS

pairings: Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

summary: what it would be like to date THE Rafe Cameron.

a/n: first ever written work so sorry if it isn’t great! please give me feedback of what i could do better in the future. also sarah and rafe are actually quite close in this.

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, sorry if there’s errors. a bit of nsfw at the end. mentions of fighting and implied towards death but only for a little bit and not at all descriptive. let me know if there should be any others!

SFW:

- he would spoil you so much.

- he sees your shein wishlist? he’s buying it all.

- you grab a shirt to look at it when shopping with him? he’s grabbing it in your size and even checking for it in other colours.

- you could even so much as be glancing around a shop and your eyes linger a little too long on one item and he’s getting it for you.

- even when you tell him you feel bad having him spend this much money on you he’ll just laugh and say “my sweet girl deserves everything.”

- he’d drop everything for you if you needed him.

- you call him crying? he could be in the middle of an important deal and he’s leaving to come get you.

- he’d fight, and probably kill, for you.

- if a guys getting a little too close at a party and making you uncomfortable Rafe is there immediately.

- he’d pull the guy away from you and just start laying punches after punches into his face until someone just drags the other guy out of the party so it doesn’t get too out of hands.

- then he’d hug you and leave kisses on your forehead while asking if you wanna leave.

- you’d always be at his house.

- which means you’d see Wheezie a lot and she loves you and is always asking you to do things with her.

- it kind of annoys Rafe because he wants to spend every second with you and Wheezie’s ruining that.

- but he also finds it really sweet.

- you’d also be best friends with Sarah.

- as soon as her brother announced he actually is with someone and not just having flings with anyone and everyone she was so excited.

- Sarah knew you had to be amazing to make her brother settle down.

- and you and her got along instantly.

- he’d actually be very affectionate.

- always having his hands on you in one way or another.

- also because he’s very jealous he’d need everyone to know you’re his and his only.

- but he’d always reassure you, especially when overthinking.

- you’d catch him staring at you and you’d ask why, thinking maybe you have something on your face or you look bad but he’d just say, “can’t i look at my gorgeous girlfriend?”

- someone would make a comment about you two saying they’re surprised someone like you could pull someone like Rafe and he’d be furious.

- he’d deal with them and then immediately pick you up and you guys would be leaving.

- as soon as you two were alone he’d reassure you by saying something like “you’re perfect baby, they’re just jealous they don’t have what we have.”



NSFW:

- as mentioned earlier, he gets very jealous.

- and he gets jealous easily.

- so if he sees a guy checking you out while you’re in public he grabs you and puts his hands on your ass while making out with you so the boy knows your Rafe’s.

- he’d then take you home to remind you you’re his.

- or even just in the car if he really couldn’t wait.

- “you’re mine. you know that right?”

- “say it baby, say you’re only mine.”

- knowing damn well you couldn’t talk when he was thrusting into you like that.

- but you had to try anyway for him.

- he’d be big on hickeys.

- he’d like marking you so everyone knows, you are his, and he’d love when you do the same.

- if you still had your v card he’d make sure to be really nice and gentle the first few times and slowly start getting tougher and introducing you to new things.

- always down for a quickie, it doesn’t matter where you are.

- he’d seriously just love you unconditionally and everyone knows he’s whipped for you.

[pedroshotwifey]

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?” 

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure. 

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily. 

You’re both lying in his bed, half-naked. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him. 

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes? 

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be. 

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now. 

“Joel?” 

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore. 

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it. 

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” 

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right. 

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes. 

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself. 

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes. 

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year. 

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself. 

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you. 

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.” 

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you? 

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts. 

“You feel so good,” you whine. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure. 

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him. 

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—” 

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—” 

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face. 

You love him. You said it. And he believes you. 

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters. 

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin. 

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him. 

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back. 

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back. 

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm. 

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time. 

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now. 

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat. 

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained. 

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria. 

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts. 

*****

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[littlebullofblythe]

ALASTOR NSFW ALPHABET

Disclaimer: this is my first time doing an NSFW alphabet but I thought it would be fun to do in between my other drafts. Feel like doing more of these so feel free to send in requests for other Hazbin characters!

Warnings : fem reader, mentioned somnophilia + breeding

A — Aftercare (What they’re like after sex) Insanely gentle. You swear half the time this isn’t even the same man, and he must be an imposter. The moment you’ve wrapped up your session, he’s delicately dressing you in your nightgown (red, of course), tucking you into bed and locking his arms around you, cradling you close to him and humming until you fall asleep, all while running his fingers through your hair and kissing your forehead, cheeks and lips.

B — Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and their partners) His fingers, and your thighs. Nothing satisfies him more than seeing you a shaking, whimpering mess while he fingerfucks you into your bed, or seeing the bruises from his hands tightly gripping your thighs the next morning. A little reminder that you belong to him.

C — Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically) Nothing makes the crackle of static or his antlers grow as much as the thought of, let alone actually getting to, fucking you so full of cum that you have no choice but to clean the sheets the next morning. He won’t finish anywhere but inside your cunt, not even in your mouth.

D — Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs) He’s stolen your panties before - and he is convinced that you have no idea, but you know. Will you tell him? Absolutely not.

E — Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) He claims to have been a virgin until you, that he’s never touched another person intimately before, but the way he pounds you into the surface you’re against, making sure he hits every weak point with each thrust, how eagerly he eats you out while teasing you with his fingers, there’s no way it’s true. And if it is, he must have watched some insane videos.

F — Favorite Position (This goes without saying) He loves having you on your side, one leg draped over his shoulder, with his hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look up at him. The height difference only makes it sweeter, the position giving him the ability to hit as deep inside of you as he can, and feel your legs tremble against him as he ruins you, loving the sight of tears and your makeup running down your face.

G — Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? Etc.) There isn’t much time for him to joke around in between his growling, and the praise he whispers to you. Occasionally, he’ll slow down and crack a joke, watching you giggle before resuming his standard pace, enjoying the startled noises that leave you every time.

H — Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? Etc.) He shaves as often as he has to, which is fairly often, and opts to just shave his whole body, save for a patch of red and black fur along his collar and chest, and little tufts of fur on his elbows, wrists and ankles. He knows how much you enjoy running your fingers through his fur, so he tries to leave some areas just fluffy enough for you, and you alone.

I — Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) It doesn’t matter if you’re having a gentle, passionate session or if he’s pounding into you with reckless abandon, he’ll always lean down just enough to kiss you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, telling you how much he loves you and how perfect and gorgeous you are, how he couldn’t dream of being with anyone other than you, how you’re his everything.

J — Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) The only times he’ll ever get himself off are if he’s in his rut season, and you are nowhere to be found. That being said, if he sees you, and you aren’t in the middle of something important, you’re being whisked away to the bedroom and not being seen for a few hours at least.

K — Kink (One or more of their kinks) Breeding - he adores watching how overstimulated and loud you become as he fucks another load into your tight cunt, cupping your cheek and whispering in your ear about how good of a mother you’re going to be. Somnophilia - initially, it was experimental - you’d given him permission to fuck you while you slept one night, just to see how it was, and now one of his favourite activities is watching your eyes widen and your cheeks go dark red when you wake up to his cock buried inside you. You’ve come up with a system — if he finds you asleep without panties, it’s fair game for him to do whatever he wants with you. Biting - oh, how he loves biting you, leaving dark bruises all along your neck, chest and thighs from his sharp fangs, and seeing the aftermath the next day, dark bruises peeking up from the collar of your shirt.

L — Location (Favorite places to do the do) The bedroom, as basic as that is. He adores being able to fuck you silly, and then spoon with you until you both fall asleep.

M — Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) Seeing you bite your lip, especially when it’s directed to him. It’s become your subtle way of informing him just how needy you are when in a crowd full of people.

N — No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Threesomes / group sex. He doesn’t want to share you - you’re all his, no one else will get a chance to lay their hands on you the way he has. And anyone who does will be sorry.

O — Oral (Preferences in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He isn’t on the receiving end often. He finds it far too difficult to pull his cock from your mouth before he cums, and he won’t let himself finish anywhere but inside of you. When it’s the other way around, you have to physically force his head back from you before you pass out from overstimulation. He could eat you out with that long tongue of his for hours if you would let him (and you have! Once, but never again. You passed out towards the end and slept for the whole day afterwards.)

P — Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? Etc.) It depends entirely on his mood - which most of the time, means you’re getting violently pounded into the bed - it’s a wonder you’re even able to walk afterwards.

Q — Quickie (Their opinion on quickies, how often, etc.) He pretends he isn’t a fan of quickies - but how quickly he fucks up into you before he begins a broadcast and how often, says otherwise.

R — Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Etc.) He’s probably the riskiest man you’ve met. He’ll have you firmly sat in his lap, buried inside you, occasionally rocking his hips to see you try and stifle a moan to not alert anybody - whether it be in the hotel parlor during an activity, or while he’s on air.

S — Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) Technically, he could go for as long as he wanted, he enjoys seeing your tears of overstimulation and hearing your desperate moans far more than he should, but usually taps out after round three or four, maybe five if he really wants to see you a mess.

T — Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) He doesn’t bother with toys. Why would he, when you’re right there?

U — Unfair (How much they like to tease) He’ll tease you for hours if he feels like it, ghosting his fingers over your body, toying with your clit until you’re just about to cum, before pulling his hands away and going back to tracing little patterns against your skin.

V — Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) He’s not exactly loud, but not exactly quiet either. He’ll lean down just to growl in your ear. Often times he’ll trap you in a kiss in order to quiet you down.

W — Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character) Scratching the base of his ears or tail is enough stimulation to have him whimpering and desperately grinding against you. Having the base of his knot teased while he’s inside you is an easy way to have his pace suddenly grow more aggressive, making you see stars.

X — X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) His body is slightly fuzzy - he can’t get all the fur when he shaves, so there’s a slight fuzzy texture to his skin that you don’t mind at all. Various scars, across his chest, legs and arms, and a particularly nasty one over his chest from the fight with Adam. He enjoys you running your fingers along the edges of each scar.

Y — Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) The only time his sex drive would be considered high is during his mating season, which you are more than happy to help with. Otherwise, he’s got a relatively standard sex drive. 

Z — Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He can fall asleep in minutes with you cuddled up against his chest, especially if you’re playing with his hair. Your presence and touch soothes him enough to sleep.

Taglist (comment to be added!) : @angeldhd @ziankenvirus

[peachsayshi]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ overprotective/jealous nanami on my mind - minors / ageless / blank blogs dni. 

nanami kento knows he’s charming his way right into your heart - he knows because he’s putting all his effort into it. he’s already fallen madly in love with you, and what he needs is for you to meet him halfway. time is on his side, he believes it to be true, and eventually you'll realize just how good he can be for you.  

he’s worked so hard for this, so hard for you - of course, he gets jealous whenever other men try to pluck at the delicate seams of your budding relationship. he’ll never unmask this side of him around you. he’s smart enough not to allow his emotions to govern his thinking in that way, and his jealousy would only unravel the blanket of trust that he’s slowly been weaving together with you. 

it’s a risk he isn’t willing to take. 

he can’t help but feel possessive over you right now. you’re both on a date, for god’s sake, and this asshole is still here chatting away like his presence actually means something. he’s been able to swat away the other suitors, but for whatever reason the guy in front of him remains drawn to you like a moth to a flame. 

despite claiming that he’s a bit “overbearing” you still insist that this guy is “a friend”. nanami can see right through his intentions and it boils his blood. while polite word’s may be leaving his lips, in the back of his mind he’s cursing out the guy like a drunken sailor. he lightly rubs his thumb against your waist, maintaining his tempered composure so that you can finish carrying on the rest of this pointless conversation. 

he subtly rolls his eyes when you accept the guy’s request to join your table. you’re too sweet, he thinks to himself, too considerate of the bastard’s feelings. he lets the evening play out until he finds a loophole when you excuse yourself to use the restroom. that’s when his face falls immediately - his stone cold expression hardening as he clenches his jaw out of anger. his gaze is hostile, the warmth of all his affection a shadow in line with your footsteps that’s far from the dinner table. he grips onto his whiskey glass with consideration to not shatter it into bits, before curtly telling the guy to fuck right off. nanami knows how intimidating he can be, which is why he isn’t at all surprised when the guy hastily scrambles to his feet.

you return to find a spot vacant on the table but nanami’s handsome smile fills the void. you slide into the booth feeling the comfort of his strong arm circle around you once more. you don’t even seem to care that your “friend” left without saying goodbye, as a matter of fact nanami might even think that you look relieved to find him gone. 

you still take a moment to apologize to him for allowing the guy to interrupt your date. nanami leans in, placing the softest, most sweetest kiss on the corner of your mouth. “it’s fine, my darling,” he murmurs, noting the way your pupils dilate at the tender pet name. 

you carry on with your evening like nothing even happened, ordering a dessert to share then clearing the bill. he walks you back to your apartment and kisses you goodnight with the intention of reminding you that you are his girl.  it’s a kiss that makes you feel like that ground might swallow you whole, that has your fingers tangling into his hair as your lungs work hard to circulate the oxygen to your brain. everything around you is spinning, except for the gorgeous man in front of you who remained perfectly still. your desire lights up your pretty irises, and making you ask him in a lovestruck daze if he would like to come inside. 

[r3starttt]

Cowgirl! Abby

a/n: I know shit about cowboy/girl stuff so let’s pretend everything makes total sense and it’s accurate to real life

Warnings: slight nsfw at the end

- cowgirl! Abby who first saw you on a class you took to learn how to ride a horse and Immediately offered to be the one to teach you

- cowgirl! Abby who couldn’t stop staring at you when she helped you get on the horse and whose hands would hold yours until you kinda took them off because she wouldn’t let you go

- cowgirl! Abby who tried to act all confident but got extremely ashamed at what just had happen so couldn’t really focus on anything else anymore

- cowgirl! Abby who would praise you a lot for every small progress you made “just like that” “doing so good” and wouldn’t leave your side

- cowgirl! Abby who couldn’t stop smiling by how much you were struggling but also by how much progress you we’re making

- cowgirl! Abby who’s extremely kind with you and would answer all your questions with the most pretty voice you’ve ever heard

- “Is this supposed to hurt so much?” you complained, rearranging yourself on the saddle “if it hurts then you’re not doing it properly” you could see her approaching to you, her eyes locked in yours and her face a bit sweaty “you need to have a straighter posture”

- cowgirl! Abby who sees you getting tired and sweaty and insists you should take a break

- cowgirl! Abby that can’t stop flirting with you during your break and ends up giving you her number for future classes ofc

- cowgirl! Abby who finally invited you out after probably the fifth class

- cowgirl! Abby who felt completely enamored by everything about you after the date and knew you had to be the one

- cowgirl! Abby who invited you to a horse ride with her and did everything so you would go with her on the same horse

- cowgirl! Abby who felt extremely nervous by your touch on her waist

- cowgirl! Abby who took you to me most pretty valley you’ve ever seen and asked you to be her girlfriend

- cowgirl! Abby who told you how much she loved you only after a month of dating even though she was already planning a whole life with you the day you started to date

- cowgirl! Abby who thinks is hot as fuck whenever your riding a horse and can’t take her eyes off of you

- cowgirl! Abby who compliments you in the most sexual way posible but pretends it’s not on purpose “good girl” “atta girl” “doing so good baby”

- cowgirl! Abby who loves neck kisses and back hugs

- cowgirl! Abby who can’t let her hands off of your body and loves to put her hands on your hips and ass no matter the place

- cowgirl! Abby who definitely fucks rough but always makes sure you’re pleased and cared

- cowgirl! Abby who loves the way you taste and makes sure you know it

- cowgirl! Abby who leaves you with very visible hickeys so that “everyone knows who you belong to”

- cowgirl! Abby who adores making out and does everything to get what she wants

- cowgirl! Abby who always reminds you how much she loves you and spoils you a lot

- cowgirl! Abby who takes you to the valley she asked you to date just to do watch the sunset

- cowgirl! Abby who tells you how fucking gorgeous you look with the sunset light

- cowgirl! Abby who won’t admit how bad she dreams with living in a farmhouse with you and your horses. Watching every sunset together and going on rides every day.

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

Type Of Boyfriend They Are

Karasuno x Gender Neutral!Reader Headcanons

Warnings: Language. That's pretty much it.

Author's Note: I've been having a pretty heavy case of writer's block especially with a lot of things going on in my life right now. My mental health is a bit unstable, but I had this idea written down in my list of writing ideas and thought that it was so cute. I hope you all enjoy, and I'll probably make headcanons for the rest of the schools too!

Hope you all enjoy and I hope that you all are doing well <3

~Mod Shoyo <3

-Kageyama, Shoyo, Yamaguchi, Tsukishima, Daichi, Asahi, Sugawara, Tanaka, Noya

Kageyama Tobio:

He’s very stand-offish when the two of you first meet

“uh… can I help you?”

Once the two of you get to know each other though, you find out that he’s actually a closeted crackhead under that harsh exterior he has

After dating for a couple of months, he’s very comfortable with you and loves spending time with you

QUALITY TIME AND GIFT GIVING BOYFRIEND.

Whether you like volleyball or not, he’s asking you to help him practice, come to his games, come to his practice matches, he wants you to be there for EVERYTHING

If you manage to show your support by making him a sign or putting his number on your cheeks at one of his games??????

He definitely will deny it, but he absolutely adores it.

“You should do this more often, it was sweet.”

Shoyo teases you guys all the time and says that you’re the only one that brings out the rational side of Tobio

That will normally end with Shoyo getting hurt somehow, no matter how much you tell Kageyama to leave him alone

You still love him though <3

Hinata Shoyo:

OH MY GODDDDDDDDD

The absolute biggest ball of sunshine ever

Golden. Retriever. Boyfriend. 

He’s very heavy on physical touch and quality time

No matter what you’re doing, Shoyo always wants to be there just to see what you’re doing

“Ooh whatcha up to lovey?”

He’s like a lap dog. He will lay his head in your lap just so he can stare up at you while you’re doing whatever you’re doing

Whenever you show up to his games he gets SO NERVOUS???? Like his stomach issues multiply by a hundred because you’re literally in the stands to watch HIM.

In the end, he always tries his best because he wants you to be so proud of him and enjoy watching him play!!

Everyone on the team loves you, you’re literally the only person that can make Shoyo shut up for more than five minutes because he just LOVES to admire you and appreciate how perfect you are.

“You’re so gorgeous… we should like… kiss or something.”

He’s so affectionate it’s too cute.

Yamaguchi Tadashi:

Tadashi just loves when you’re being you.

He’s always sneaking glances at you and just thinking about how soft your features are and how lucky he is to have bagged someone like you.

GIFT GIVING. GIFT GIVING. GIFT GIVING.

“Hey love, I found this super cute keychain while I was at the store with Tsuki the other day and it reminded me of you!”

“I remember you saying that this was your favorite and they only had one left, so I had to get it before someone else that wasn’t you did!”

He’s just so thoughtful. He always remembers the little things.

The very first day you kissed him? He celebrates it every year by giving you a million smooches.

You only like one very specific flavor of ice cream? He will never ever give you a different flavor and goes to multiple stores if he has to when they don’t have it

He isn’t the biggest with PDA, but he will most definitely hold your hand and kiss your cheek, forehead, or your hand.

He just gets a little shy when he’s out in public with you, but only because he doesn’t want other people looking at you and thinking that they have a chance with you.

He’s so non-confrontational, but if push comes to shove, he’ll make sure that everyone knows you’re his.

He just loves you so much and he’s so glad that you’re his. Forever. <3

Kei Tsukishima:

HE’S SO SARCASTIC IT’S ANNOYING.

Likes to play this game in public where he acts like he isn’t your boyfriend

“Excuse me, do I know you?”

HE LITERALLY HELD HANDS WITH YOU WALKING INTO THE STORE?!?!??!

You can be sarcastic too, so he’s just glad that you can take jokes and rip on his teammates or randos in the street

This dude has such a killer resting bitch face when he notices people eyeing you.

Noya tested his luck flirting with you one time and, despite Noya being his upperclassman, Tsuki almost killed him with just one look

He secretly loves how much you fuss over him.

“Babe, your glasses are so DIRTY. Here let me clean them before you run into something,”

He literally stopped the habit of cleaning his lenses because you’ll just take them and clean them for him

He loves watching you fog the lenses up with your breath and wipe them with the microfiber cloth that came in his case

Even if you only look like a big blur of colors to him and you’re all blurry <3

Tanaka Ryuunosuke:

The most respectful yet horny boyfriend at the same time

“What the hell do you mean that guy cat called you?”

He says as his hand is resting on your ass, giving it an occasional squeeze from time to time.

Very overprotective, but not in an overbearing way

Despite how loud and chaotic he may be (especially when he’s with Noya) he always picks up on your small cues and knows when you’re uncomfy or feeling a little out of place

He loves to bring you up at all times

“You know that’s crazy, because my baby loves to eat meat buns and can easily smash like seven of them in one sitting. *sigh* I’m so in love.”

Daichi literally just told him what he ate for lunch today when Tanaka asked.

PDA is his JAM.

Always has a hand somewhere on you and loves how you just nuzzle into his touch whenever he’s with you

It’s everything he’s ever wanted in life and he’s so stoked that he finally has it

His favorite place is your ass though. It’s easy access and it’s very soft and comfy in his palm

Nishinoya Yuu:

SOMEONE SEDATE HIM HE’S SO ENERGETIC

The type of boyfriend to annoy you and push your buttons all day and then just lay a million kisses all over your face at the end of the day as he tells you how much he loves you

He’s so hyped up to do anything with you

He’s definitely the type to enjoy running errands with you because he pretends that you’re married already and that these errands are just married couple tingz

He loves to embarrass you in public

Yall will be at a store while you’re just looking at clothes and trying to find some new outfits before he starts yelling as loud as he can so that people from five aisles down can hear him

“OH MY GOD YOU CAN’T STEAL THAT SHIRT BABE, WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!?!?!”

You literally walk away and act like you don’t know him for the rest of the day

Nonetheless, he’s so appreciative of you and makes sure you know how much he loves you

The second that you first announced to the team that you were dating, you could’ve sworn you saw tears of joy falling from Kiyoko’s eyes

You keep him grounded and always help bring him out of the dark places his mind goes to when he messes up during games

Hearing you tell him how good of a libero he is and how amazing he is always snaps him out of things. He’d be a wreck without you

Daichi Sawamura:

The most caring boyfriend ever literally what the fuck-

He worries about your well-being all the time and isn’t afraid to show how much he cares about you no matter where you guys are

Sure, he’ll scold you for being clumsy and tripping in the gym, but also?

“Why the hell did they wax the floors before we started practicing? We’re just gonna dirty them again anyways?”

He’s such a passionate lover

“Hey, you look like you’ve got a lot on your mind. What can I do to fix that?”

SO MATURE IN A RELATIONSHIP.

He’s so good with communicating his feelings to you and wants you to know whatever’s going on with him and reassure you no matter what

Absolutely adores pressing kisses to your temples. He loves how you just stare into his eyes with the biggest smile ever and can see your pupils shift into hearts every time he does it

The two of you just make so much sense being together? Match made in heaven type of shit

His very older brother/dad morals have rubbed off on you and now you’re yelling at the boys the same way that he does. 

He always whispers to Suga or Asahi about how proud he is of you while watching you scold someone for being immature 

Asahi Azumane:

The literal definition of Cottage Core

When you hung out with him at his house for the first time, he had so many succulents and well-cared for plants

He’s so soft, he just loves you so much

He loves when you give him scalp massages after taking his bun down

Whenever you go to his house after practice, he’ll shower and have you wash his hair for him because he can’t relieve the tension he feels on his head like you do

He writes you love letters and leaves them in such random places for you to find

“Hey honey, did you leave a letter in my bento box? When I opened it, it had a little bit of curry sauce on it.”

He just blushes and giggles slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Loves to call you the cringiest/cutest pet names ever.

Honey pie, sweetums, sugar plum…

You giggle every time he says it out loud because his teammates can’t help but make fun of him whenever they hear it

They’re so cringe coming out of anyone else’s mouth. Not his though <3

Sugawara Koushi:

You will never ever catch Suga smelling bad.

Even after practice, you can’t smell that musty stench of sweat on him because it’s masked by all the deodorant he puts on.

MOST DEFINITELY smells like a bath and body works scent. It changes depending on the season and he loves smelling good according to the season

“Suga, is that… champagne toast?”

You bet your sweet ass it is.

Suga gives the most heartfelt and warm hugs in the world, it’s like hugging a warm blanket.

He’s so loving and it shows in all of his words and actions.

“Aww darling, let me wipe your nose. I told you it was going to be cold and to wear a thicker sweater when we talked on the phone this morning,”

When he says stuff like that his face is literally just >:(

His kisses are so soft. He loves to kiss your nose because of the way it scrunches up after his lips leave

“Do you not like my kisses?” Smooch. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Mwuah. “I won’t stop until you accept my kisses.”

You just keep scrunching it because you love when he kisses you. He knows that, he just loves to make it a little fake argument between you two <3

[traveler-at-heart]

The Thing

Summary: Natasha works the courage to ask you out.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Finally alone.

Natasha is very particular about her food. It took her exactly seven minutes to make the perfect sandwich. She smiles at it and as she’s about to take a bite, a voice interrupts her.

She’d be annoyed, except for the fact that it’s you.

“Hey, Natty” you say innocently, approaching from behind. You’re one of those people that is always hugging or touching your friends.

Natasha doesn’t mind. It would be easier if she didn’t have a big crush on you, though.

Closing the distance, you rest your chin on her shoulder and inspect her plate.

“That looks nice” you whisper, unaware that the redhead is struggling to keep her knees from buckling.

“Yeah…” she can feel your hands traveling around her waist. 

Nice is an understatement.

Finally reaching for a couple of chips, you giggle and step away from the other woman.

“Hey, that’s my lunch!” Natasha protests, but she’s not annoyed.

“Sorry, I’m being called for an urgent mission. Apparently, I’m the gal for the job. This will do while I get some food when I land. Thanks, gorgeous!”

That’s another thing. Gorgeous, babe, angel, darling. You always have a pet name for her. 

It’s really hard to tell if you’re flirting when you speak like that.

After all, you call Kate Bishop delicious muffin. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

No point in thinking about it now. There are more pressing matters at hand.

“Jeez, Steve, I still have 5 minutes!” You shout when someone knocks on your door. You open it and find Natasha on the other side. “Ah, sorry, love. Thought Grandpa America was timing me”

Love.

That’s new.

“Uh… here” she’s always struggling to speak whenever you’re around. You must think she’s a moron.

“For me?” You take the container that she’s presenting and open it. You gasp at the sight of a sandwich and your favorite chips. “Oh, my God!” You lean forward and kiss her on the cheek. “You’re my favorite widow”

“Yelena will be pissed when she finds out” Natasha tries to joke, looking down. Her face is burning, the touch of your lips lingering.

“She’ll survive” you put the sandwich in your bag pack as the timer in your wrist goes off. “Better find Steve before he goes nuts over a one minute delay. Thanks for the sandwich. You’re an angel” 

Another kiss on the cheek, this time closer to Natasha’s mouth. And she almost believes you know what you’re doing, based on that little smirk.

“Oh, shoot” you turn around and call for her when you’re walking towards the hangar. “When you see Yelena… tell her to remember about the thing”

“The thing?” Natasha repeats and you wink.

“She���ll know what I mean” you smile and wave goodbye. “See you in a couple of days, Natty” 

—

It doesn’t take long for Natasha to find her sister. Maybe the thing is something important and she wants to make sure Yelena remembers about it.

“Hey” Natasha says as she sits down next to the blonde.

“Hi” Yelena mumbles, sinking further in the couch, while she scrolls through cooking tutorials.

“Y/N left for a mission today”

“Oh, are you sad that your future girlfriend left?” 

“Shut up” Natasha says. Of course Yelena would know. “She wanted me to remind you about the thing”

“Mkay” Yelena answers, still looking at her phone.

“That’s it? I thought it could be important”

“She just wants me to get her tickets for a… uh…” Yelena finally looks up, drawing blank. “Crap!”

“You forgot the thing?”

“I forgot the thing” she confirms, looking around, as if the answer might be on the Compound’s walls. Kate enters, unaware of the tension in the room. Yelena runs to her. “You”

“What?” Kate barks out, looking ready to slap her. 

“You were with me when Y/N asked me to buy those tickets. Do you remember what they were for? A musical? The opera? Ballet?”

“It was a concert” Kate nods. “Don’t remember the name of the band, though. Sorry” Kate grimaces.

“Ok, let’s just say band names, see if it comes back to me” Yelena pleads and Kate stutters. Working under pressure isn’t her biggest strength.

“Uh, Rammstein” 

“She hates metal” Natasha says.

“The Phantom of the Opera”

“Not a band” Yelena shakes her head.

“The Beatles”

“Half dead” Natasha points out and Yelena groans.

“She’s gonna kill me. I have to run to Mexico. At least the food will be good there” 

“Hey, weren’t you in the room when Y/N asked Yelena for the favor?” Kate remembers all of the sudden, looking at Natasha. 

“Were you?” Yelena says, hopeful. “Please, tell me the name. I’ll do your laundry for a week”

“And wash my dishes” 

“That too” 

“And my mission reports”

“And… nu-uh, that’s too much, Tasha” 

The redhead rolls her eyes. 

“I’ll get the tickets myself. Can’t trust you with that either” 

“Do you want to give your crush a present?” Yelena pokes her tongue out and Natasha glares. Before Kate can stop them, they’re wrestling around the living room, throwing things at each other.

“Stop it!” Steve jumps in. “Hey, we just got new curtains. Damn it!” 

—

Natasha may have hacked the concert’s website to make sure you got the best tickets. She’s walking back to her room, being extra careful that they’re not folding in case you wanna keep them. She knows you have a box full of mementos from shows.

“Hey, Natty” a voice greets from the hallway. Natasha’s hands fly behind her back, because she wanted to surprise you. And she’s definitely not ready to ask you out right now. “Oh, scaredy cat. What are you hiding?” 

Your tone is playful, while you try to reach behind her. Only as your face comes close to her, she notices the bruise around your left eye and temple.

“What happened to you?” she puts the tickets on her back pocket and places her hands on your face. “Who did this to you?”

“H.Y.D.R.A. brute. Nothing new under the sun” you smile and take advantage of the distraction to reach for Nat’s pockets. The redhead is faster and takes your right wrist. The same thing happens with your left hand, and she holds both wrists close to her chest. “Nat! Come on” 

“I can’t show it to you, not now” she tries hard not to giggle, but you’re struggling to break free and the frown on your face makes you look adorable. 

“You are not playing fair, Natasha. I’m calling for backup. FRIDAY, call Yel..”

Natasha panics then, pulling you close and silencing you with her lips. You stand still for a couple of seconds, but then close your eyes, deepening the kiss.

She sighs against your mouth and lets go of your wrists, her hands going down to circle your waist. You bite her lip and the moan she lets out is reward enough.

"My, I'd say buy me dinner first but I wouldn't mind skipping straight to dessert" you joke and she smiles, her green eyes still closed.

But, you’re still curious, so you take advantage of her distraction and reach in her back pocket.

“Wait” Natasha says, her face flushed and lips swollen.

“You got me the tickets? That's better than dinner!”, you say, jumping into her arms once again. 

“Well, Yelena forgot the thing and I wanted to ask you out” she smiles against your shoulder and you pull back. Her eyes go back to the bruise, concerned once again. “Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine. Never been better” you lean forward and kiss her again. She smiles against your lips, thinking how happy she is that Yelena is always forgetting things.

[tteokdoroki]

hi aali! my ideal valentines gift would be a dainty tennis bracelet that i’ve been wanting for a while <3 and i’d swipe sweet on sukuna ! (bonus: i buy him a silver chain since he’s been wanting a new one !)

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — RYOMEN SUKUNA. swipe sweet: simplicity.

about. boom, it’s a match! ryomen sukuna and yourself have come to an agreement. no gifts and no materialistic things for v-day… but he really can’t help it, especially because you’ve never received a gift out of love and not because someone is trying to buy it ( 0.7K )

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, established relationships, modern bf!sukuna, rich girl + fem!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

ryomen sukuna doesn’t come from money.

he’s an honest man who works an honest job and makes an honest living. he does what he can to support his family and keep his head above water — and that’s enough for him. sukuna wasn’t always this good nor this honest, the rough and troubled days of his youth have hardened his exterior and made him hard to love. 

to everyone except for you. 

you’re a girl that comes from money.

you’ve never worked a day in your life, but you do what you can to be there for siblings way too evil and ungrateful to care about the sacrifices you had made for them. you weren’t always this noble and you didn’t always care and maybe that made you hard to love. 

but you found each other, despite how difficult showing love may be. you found love for yourselves and each other in simplicity and comfortable quietness. in the way that you’re both so alike and yet so different. how you were raised and the backgrounds in which you came from don’t matter you or sukuna. as long as you’re content by one another’s sides. 

that’s why you had a rule. no gifts on valentine’s day — you would settle for one another’s company, perhaps a home cooked meal from sukuna’s skilful hands and some cheap chocolate you'd impulsive bought on the way home. you already owned everything money could buy thanks to your father and his fruitful lifestyle, there wasn’t anything more you could possibly want except for being with your boyfriend like it was any other day. it was simple, being together was simple. 

that’s why you frown as sukuna pushes a small, pink box tied with a little white ribbon across the smooth marble of island in your kitchen. it sits suspiciously between the glass of red wine your boyfriend had poured for you and the roses you had gotten for him (which he liked, he just wouldn’t admit to it.).

“i thought we said no gifts, ryo?” you drawl questioningly, tapping your nails against the counter as you lean over it. 

sukuna doesn’t turn from the stove, his muscled back rippling as he flips your steaks. “that didn’t stop ya from gettin’ me roses, did it, gorgeous?” the smirk he chucks you from over his shoulder stirs the butterflies in your tummy, ones that only react to his love and his touch. “open it up. wanna see the look on your face when you see it.” 

your frown quickly dissipates into an affectionate smile as you take the box between your fingers — fighting a swoon. “i really don’t need anything, ryo. you know that.” the ribbon falls apart in your hands and the lid on the box pops off easily. “i have everything money could buy…” 

but then, your voice dies in your throat just as your boyfriend dishes up your meal and you gift is finally revealed. “everything but somethin’ i’ve gotten you,” your boyfriend says gruffly, mirroring you as he throws a tea towel over his shoulder and leans over the island to take your delicate little gift between his thick, calloused fingers. a tennis bracelet made from the finest silver sits pretty in ryomen’s hands, it’s silver charms glint under the dim and romantic lighting set for tonight. there’s a little ‘s’ for his family nickname, and a heart as if to remind you that his is forever yours.

he reaches out, surprisingly tender for someone so hardened, and grasps your wrist — helping you with the clasp on the little bracelet. “i know you’re not materialistic, couldn't care less about money. but no one’s ever gotten you anythin’ because they care. not because they’re tryna buy your love.” he explains, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

as if loving you this much is the most normal thing in the world. 

“aww ryo,” pouting, you wrangle his hand into holding your own — looking across at your boyfriend with puppy dog eyes. “you love me? you’re not trying to buy my love?” 

“don’t need to,” he rolls his blood red eyes, but you don’t miss how they brim with love. “ain’t you whipped f’me?” sukuna sasses you, plays mean, but his lips against the inside of your wrist tell you otherwise. he’s just as whipped as you are. 

“kinda,” you respond. 

“only kinda?”

“yeah, sorta.” 

“just say you love me, brat.” 

“alright, ryomen sukuna. i love you.”

and you do, more than what glitter’s and more than what’s gold ( even if your bracelet is silver ). 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[nomadwrites]

bubblegum pink ⋆˚✿

gojo satoru

summary ⋆୨୧⋆ in which you've managed to convince the greatest jujutsu sorcerer of your time into getting pink highlights. what could go wrong? a lot, you learn.

contents ⋆୨୧⋆ spoilers!, pure fluff & rusty writing

notes ⋆୨୧⋆ let's start off easy, shall we? feedback is most certainly welcome & would be much appreciated! enjoy ₊˚ෆ

"come on, it's only temporary!"

"not a chance! do you know how much time and effort i put into caring for these lustrous locks?"

"it'll grow out anyways," you huff, setting down the contents of the hair dye kit on the bathroom counter. "and here i thought you were the adventurous type."

"adventure is one thing, but this? this would be an act of vandalism," satoru feigns a look of betrayal, silver lashes framing his wide blue orbs, "like defacing the mona lisa."

you gasp in exaggeration, clasping a hand over your mouth. if there was one thing on the boy’s long list of things he loved about you, it'd be your ability to keep up with his personality.

"sure. but don't you get tired of always having the same old hairstyle? maybe it'd be nice to switch it up every now and then, yknow?"

"i hardly doubt anyone could ever get tired of this." he gestures to himself, standing tall, a smirk gracing his features.

“you’re insufferable.”

“and you love that about me.”

you do your best to hide the smile that threatens to break free, chewing on your bottom lip. “oh but you’d look absolutely gorgeous,” you plead, voice dripping with honey as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against the countertop. you bat your lashes at him, round doe eyes peering into sparkling azure pools.

the look you give him makes his heart do flips and his gaze softens ever so slightly. he can't say no to you, not when you're gazing up at him with those puppy-dog eyes of yours. you’re perfectly aware of the effect you have on him, but that’s not to say you’d ever take advantage of him. if anything, you’re just as smitten.

satoru adores gratifying you, answering to your every beck and call, no matter the request, even if they can be a little odd at times. who was he to deny you anything when you looked so entrancing?

he pretends to ponder, drumming his fingers along the cool ceramic of the sink counter. if you're quiet enough, you might hear the way the gears in his head shift as he puts on a show of overtly dramatised deliberation. it almost makes you snort, but after a minute or two of silence, he caves in, shoulders slumping.

"if it makes you happy," he breathes, flicking his gaze back to you as you perk up with excitement, light practically radiating off of you. he might come to regret this in a few hours, but when he sees the way your eyes sparkle with a radiance that seems so pure, he thinks it won’t be so bad. after all, it is only temporary.

"just so i get to hear it again," he pauses, slender fingers intertwining with yours as he guides you over to him and plops down onto the closed seat of the toilet, long legs splayed on either side of you. "you think i'm gorgeous?"

“not quite yet,” you say, running your fingers through his silver locks, admiring the soft lavender undertones. his glasses are sitting just above the tip of his nose, brilliant sapphire depths on full display. no matter how many times you’ve looked him in the eye,, it always manages to knock the air out of your lungs. “i’ll see what i can do.”

“aren’t you a sweetheart?”

“i am.”

he exhales, humming in agreement as he relaxes under your touch and relishes in the scent of your skin, not the fragrance of perfume or shampoo, but you.

this is nice, you think. free time has always been hard to come by, even more so for gojo than you. things had changed after the star plasma vessel incident. he had changed, and although he did his best to hide it, you knew better. you were there to ground him, to remind him of his humanity and his purpose for becoming a sorcerer. you were there to keep him afloat.

"so!" you clap, startling him enough to knock his glasses askew, "let's get started!"

"booo," he pouts, like some child. he likes to think you're like this because of him, that you've spent so much time with him you've essentially become a miniature satoru gojo. the thought of it makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, something he really only feels with you, despite how popular he is with people.

you get to work, skimming through the pamphlet of instructions. satoru attempts to help you, mostly by staring whilst seated on the toilet, questioning if you really knew what you were doing. you stick out your tongue at him as did he, tugging on his lower eyelid.

you manage to end up with a bowl of bright pink sludge, the scent of chemicals wafting through the enclosed space of your bathroom. satoru grimaces, both at the smell and how awfully pigmented the dye seemed, cautiously eyeing the mixture held between your gloved hands.

“no turning back now.”

“you’re sure this is temporary?”

“mhmm!” you say, throwing a towel over his shoulders to shield his black linen shirt from any stray drops of hair dye. contrary to popular belief, the all-powerful jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t make use of his infinity when there was no real need to, his reasoning something akin to him wanting to experience moments of normalcy with those close to him.

“i’m great aren’t i? strong, handsome with a heart of gold,” he’d said, standing in akimbo.

“in an alternate universe, sure.”

you smile at the memory, recalling the way he tutted when you responded, earning chuckles from both shoko and geto.

“y’know on second thought–” satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “maybe blue would be a better option? make my eyes pop and all that,” he stalls, turning to look at you.

“it’s not gonna be this bright toru, it’ll be a lot lighter once we rinse you off. besides, i’ve only got pink right now–“

“great! so we should–“

“but you already said we could–“

and you’re both tugging, trying to grab ahold of the bowl. “toru stop it! you’re gonna–“

splat.

"ah," he blinks.

silence falls between the both of you, letting the sound of droplets hitting the floor echo loud in your ears. you’re wide eyed in disbelief, and it takes you a moment before you press your lips together in a futile attempt to conceal the snort that bubbles from your throat.

———————-

“don’t you look pretty?” geto teases, snapping a photo of satoru’s lifeless body as he sits limp at his desk, looking as if his soul had left his body. you’re sure it did last night after rinsing him off in the shower, fully clothed, the sight of him drenched in fuchsia finding a permanent home in your brain. shoko echoes after the raven-haired boy, resting her head on a closed fist.

satoru’s once moonlit hair now a splotchy mess of soft pink, the hair dye staining his eyebrows an even brighter shade of bubblegum. you had to practically drag him out the bathroom by the feet afterward.

“what have you done?” he whined, voice breaking.

“me?!” you gasped, “you had a part to play in this too!”

it was a miracle he’d even changed out of his wet clothes, albeit it taking around an hour or so. you’re sure he laid on the floor for the rest of the night after you’d left, geto being the first to find him in the exact same position this morning. thankfully, you hadn’t had to drag him to class.

at the very least, this would be another fond memory you’d share together.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Bleeding Heart Syndrome

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, bucky kills someone, implied smut

Summary: Deciding to give this another try, you want to prove to yourself that Bucky is more than just the murderer you know him to be. He takes you to his work to show you that he runs a business like any normal person. However, when someone makes one wrong comment, you're reminded why your heart bleeds because of him.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: no modesty (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

It didn’t matter how many dates you and Bucky went on, you were still nervous to have him over. You decided to bring him over to your house for a homemade dinner. Your mother taught you how to make a delicious pasta dish that you were just dying for Bucky to try.

Bucky pulled up to your house with Steve and Sam in the car. Bucky checked the time for the tenth time since leaving his mansion. Living this double life was getting too hard to conceal. You were getting closer to him and asking all these questions that he couldn't answer. He was trying so hard to keep you in the dark, but how long could he do this?

Sooner of later, his past was going to catch up to him.

“Should we follow you up?”

“No,” Bucky sighed. “Just stay out here.”

Bucky got out, walked up to your door, and knocked. You jumped from the sudden noise but rushed over to the door. You opened it to see Bucky standing there looking drop-dead gorgeous.

“Right on time,” you smiled and let him in.

“Is something burning?”

“Shit.”

You left his side and ran to the kitchen. You yanked the pan off the stove and checked on the vegetables in there.

“Need help?”

“Actually, yes. My mom taught me this recipe but I never said I was good at cooking it,” you chuckled.

Bucky shed off his jacket only to drape it over the back of the chair. His muscles bulged in the tight shirt he was wearing. Forget dinner. You wanted him. Bucky took over the process and made it his own despite you telling him how your mom made it.

“Check on the noodles.”

You took a single strand of noodle and threw it at the wall. It stuck to it like it was glue.

“It’s ready,” you grinned.

After draining the noodles, you poured them into the pot that had the sauce. The noodles flowed over as a bunch so that they splattered inside, causing the sauce to spray out. You gasped when it touched your neck and Bucky smiled when he saw a red drop on his white sleeve.

“I am so sorry,” you giggled.

Bucky pulled you close and leaned down to press his lips on your neck. He licked a stripe up your skin to gather the sauce. Your giggle turned into a moan when you felt his lips latch onto your skin.

“No fair, Bucky,” you moaned. He nibbled on your skin right over the spot where you needed him the most. “Wait, the food needs to go in the oven.”

Bucky pulled away and quickly placed the dish into the oven at the right timer. He turned to you and grabbed your waist so he could sit you on the counter. He leaned in again but you backed away before his lips could touch yours.

“Wait, we only have thirty minutes before the food is done.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and did some math in his head.

“Six times.”

“What?”

“I can make you come six times before the oven goes off.”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything as he whisked you away to the bedroom.

Now

You open your eyes and see that it’s not a dream; Bucky found you and took you to one of his mansions. Being back here will mess with your head in a way that makes you think you’re not going to survive this. Still, you get out of bed and push down those feelings. You don’t want to feel this way. You want to be able to love him and go on dates without fearing what will happen if someone bad crosses your path.

You want to love him in the way you deserve but you’re not sure how.

Someone is cooking something delicious in the kitchen, and your stomach rumbles to let you know that it wants food. You put a cardigan on and head downstairs to the kitchen where a chef is cooking breakfast. You must have passed by ten of Bucky’s men, all armed and ready for anything that might come their way.

This makes you feel like you’re in a prison, not someone’s home. Will you ever feel at home here?

“Here you go, Miss Y/N,” the chef says and slides you a plate of food.

“Not hungry,” you sigh and push it away.

“Eat.”

You look to the left and see Bucky walk into the kitchen dressed in a suit. However, his white shirt is untucked and open revealing his toned stomach and chest that you love so much. His tie is slung over his shoulders and his hair is damp from his shower. He is practically half-naked in front of his own chef and men. This man has no modesty.

“You’re not my dad.”

Bucky pours himself a cup of coffee before turning to face you. He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he finishes getting ready. Your eyes follow his fingers as they work their way down his shirt. He tucks his shirt in and begins working on his tie next, and you snap your eyes up to his.

“I’m not in the mood to argue. Eat.”

“No.”

Bucky finishes with his tie before walking over to you. He is so intimidating while standing but with you sitting down next to him, it’s almost impossible not to shrink back into your seat like a little kid.

“You can be pissed at me all you want but you’re not skipping out on a meal. Eat.”

“Or what? You’ll force me?”

Time seems to slow down the longer he stares at you. Then, he grabs your jaw not super tightly before forcing your mouth open.

“Yes.”

You push him away and grab the fork to show him you’re complying with his request. He waits until you take two bites before leaving your side to tend to his coffee. Damn, these eggs are soft and fluffy.

“Happy?”

“I have to go work,” he says instead of answering your question. “I’ll be back later.”

“Off to kill someone?”

“I do own a business, you know,” Bucky sighs. “A business that will crumble if I’m not there.”

“Can I go with you?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

“You want to come with me?”

“Yeah. It beats being alone in this house with a bunch of strange men with large guns.”

“There are many more are work.”

“Will you let me come or not?” you sigh.

“Go get dressed,” he says after a beat, “after you finish eating.”

You quickly down the rest of your food before heading to your room to get dressed. Bucky waits patiently for you to finish before escorting you to one of his luxurious cars. He keeps the music low and maintains a reasonable speed. For someone who murders people, you’d think he’d want to speed all the time. No, he’s too busy thinking about you and driving carefully in order to protect you.

You might think he’s a monster but he’s never stopped loving you.

When Bucky arrives at his skyscraper of a building, he leads you inside with a hand low on your back. The receptionist sees him and flashes him a flirtatious smile. She subtly fixes her dress to make her boobs stand out, and you glare at her as you pass by.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes.”

“Good morning, Tate.”

He keeps it simple without so much as a look at her but that doesn’t stop her from trying to gain his attention. She looks at you and almost shrinks back into her seat from the glare you’re giving her. You two step onto the elevator and begin the journey to the top floor.

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” you ask and look at him.

“You’re giving her the same look you gave every woman who tried to flirt with me. Remember that poor girl you made cry on our second date?”

“Shut up,” you snap. “There is no look.”

If you could, you’d wipe that smirk right off his face. Thankfully, he drops it for now. The higher you go, the more men with large guns there are. Bucky wasn’t kidding before. You know what kind of work he’s involved in but how much protection does one man need?

“I’m in meetings for most of the morning but you’re more than welcome to stay in here. My computer password is pisică.”

“Of course it is,” you laugh humorlessly.

“If you need anything, I am only down the hall.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Bucky resists the urge to go over to you and kiss you. You’ll come around and he just needs to be patient. As soon as he leaves the room, you walk over to the giant window that overlooks the entire city. Damn, he has such a nice view. You take in his office and notice personal pictures on his desk.

All of them are of you. There is one with you two standing in front of a mirror with his hand around your throat. You thought it would be a good picture at the time. You had just taken three shots before going to dinner so you thought this picture was a good idea. Another one is of you at the beach he took you to. He bought it out so that you two could enjoy some privacy and he caught you soaking up as much sun as you possibly can. The third one is of you laughing because you had pulled a prank on Bucky and he couldn’t miss an opportunity to snap a photo of your smile.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you taste salt on your lips. You were so happy in these pictures. This was before you knew what Bucky did. This was before reality slapped you in the face. You’re not sure what to do but you know how you feel. You love him so damn much but you’re hating yourself for loving a murderer.

You sit at his desk and log into his computer. He must not have anything incriminating on his computer if he’s going to let you snoop without him in here. All this power but you’re not going to snoop in places you don’t belong in. He trusts you and after all this time, you’re not going to let that break.

Instead, you go to Amazon and smirk when you see what’s floating around in your cart. If Bucky is so rich, he won’t mind if you spend a few thousand dollars on shit you want but don’t need. It’s not like he’s going to miss the money.

Bucky’s phone pings at a notification from his bank. Someone spent over five thousand dollars on Amazon, and he smirks when he realizes you’re out there spending his money. You might be doing it to spite him but he loves it when you spend his money. He confirms the purchase through a text message before returning his attention to the many men inside the conference room.

Some of the men are involved with different mafia’s from around the country, some men are CEOs of different businesses, and some men are important in their perspective fields. All of them are interested in the weapons Bucky sells. He’s become so successful that he delivers to everyone across the country. They all flock to him like cattle.

“Gentlemen, I have an epo coming up soon in New York that will showcase the weapons I have for purchase. Of course, you’re more than welcome to come but the price is set. NO discoounts will be given.”

That sends some of the men in an uproar. They’ve been doing business with him for years and they’re still treated like first-time customers.

“Come on, Buck, don’t you think you’re being a bit unreasonable with your prices?” One of the Mafia men, Antonio, asks.

“You’re more than welcome to go somewhere else. Oh, wait, you can’t. I’m the only one with the shit you want so take it or leave it.”

Antonio shuts up knowing he can’t take Bucky on right now. Instead of fighting him, he leans back in his chair and stares at Bucky. The meeting continues on for another two hours as they discuss the weapons expo and Bucky’s telecommunicaiton sector that sells privacy for computers. Bucky looks at his watch and sees it’s almost lunch time so he decides to address one more thing before concluding this meeting.

“One last thing before this meeting is done.” He looks at one of the men who is one of the best drug lords in the couontry. “Race, tell your men to stay the fuck out of my goddamn bar. They’re brewing up trouble.”

“I can’t stop my men from going where they want to go,” Race shrugs.

“Maybe if one of them has a bullet in their heads, you’ll ge tthe message.”

Race rolls his eyes but knows better than to argue with Bucky. Before anyone can say anything, someone knocks on the door. Everyone turns their heads to you when you open the door and steps inside.

“Oh, sorry,” you sutter.

You turn to leave but Bucky stops you.

“Come here, pisică.” You walk further into the room and try to ignore all the stares you’re getting from the men. Bucky hates that they’re all looking at you like you’re a piece of meat but he doesn’t start a fight he knows he will win. Antonio keeps his eyes on your ass longer than the rest of them, making Bucky’s blood boil. When you get to him, he pulls you inot his lap despite the blush on your cheeks.

“Never be sorry for being where I am. What do you need?”

“I’m hungry,” you whisper, hoping no one else can hear him. “I wanted to go out and get lunch.”

“Take Steve with you.”

You look into his blue eyes in thought. You don’t tell him that you wanted to go out to lunch with him. Instead, you nod and get off his lap.

“Cute girl you got there, Barnes,” Antonio chirps. “You gonna pass her around or what?”

You freeze in your step, clearly uncomfortable with his comment. Before, Bucky was willing to let his wandering eyes slide. Now, he’s a dead man.

“Take Steve with you to lunch. Go,” Bucky says to you.

Thankfully, you don’t argue with him. As soon as you close the door behind you, you hear the clear sound of a gunshot. If his comment made you freeze, you’re fucking rock soldi now. Still, you peek into the room through the small window on the door. Antonio is slumped over in his chair with blood splattered on the wall behind him. He’s dead. Bucky killed him. You look up and lock eyes with Bucky who still holds the smoking gun.

He hates that you’re crying because of him.

You immediately turn and run from the room to where the elevators are. You barely get on when you hear Bucky’s voice call for you. You turn to him with tears running down your cheeks.

“No, I’m fine, Bucky. I shouldn’t have expected anything different.”

“I wasn’t going to let him live after what he said.”

The elevator doors start to close but you put your hand out to prevent them from doing so.

“That’s the problem with you, Bucky. Your immediate response to everything is death. I shouldn’t have come here. You should return to your meeting. I’ll have lunch alone.”

You let go of the elevator doors and continue to stare at him until the doors closing breaks your eye contact. Your heart is breaking because he is the best thing to have ever happened to you, but how can you ever get past something like this?

x

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[missglaskin]

Meant to be mine 

Excuse me for the horrible smut 

Tags: Soft dark!Jace OC, mentions & descriptions of parent abuse, character death (poison), childhood to lovers. EXPLICIT: Titty sucking, breeding kink (if you squint), creampie, tummy bulge (mention) Jace really taking after his parents 

The dragon runs in his blood. Jace won't give you up for anything, even if your hands belong to another. 

To marry well. A constant reminder of your obligations as a lady. Prepare to be disappointed. It's rare for love to blossom in such unions. Marriage is a trade more than anything-whether it's for a shipping fleet or an ally. How foolish of you to think your fate would differ from any lady.

How you've dreamed of having your 'protected' cloak placed around your shoulder to be the sigil of a three-headed dragon. Anticipating facing the man you've known for years. Instead, your 'protected' cloak's sigil is one of a golden lion and your wedding vows are exchanged with another. 

Before the feast could begin, the doors opened, and everyone turned. Seeing the royal family ascend made your breath catch in your throat. They weren't invited. You were certain otherwise their upcoming presence would have been the talk around. Casting a quick glance over your shoulder, seeing your father's enraged face. Jakob Lannister, your newly husband, looked stunned.

Arriving with her husband Daemon by her side, Rhaenyra appears to be as gorgeous as ever. The rest of her children follow after. Your gaze is drawn to Prince Jacaerys. 

Rhaenyra greets your father first, complimenting him on how lovely the wedding seems. She raises the corner of her mouth to smile, but her eyes remain cold. Her eyes warm when she turns to face you. “My dear Y/N.”

Her hand reaches for your necklace-an embroidered lion. "You look as beautiful as ever-we were so excited to have you in the family," she says as her eyes catch your father's. "But alas, I am sure Jakob Lannister is one lucky man to have such a lovely bride."

You mutter your thanks to her as she gives you a gentle kiss on the cheek. Leaving your side, her family follows her. Jace follows. His hand brushed against yours. Your eyes never leave him until your father grabs hold of your shoulder. Your father's hold grows tighter, reminding you of your position. Your duty. 

The family had no seat as no one anticipated their arrival, still the servants rushed to grab seats for them. The other lords and ladies glare at the family when they choose the table closest to yours. 

You and your husband are sitting next to one another. And you repress the urge to look over at the table. The ominous presence of your father serves as a reminder of the consequences if you dared to look. 

When the two approach your table, you try to conceal your surprise. It's Daemon and Jace. For some time, Jace and you just stare at each other in silence. Daemon nudges him to reality. "I'm happy for the two of you," Jace finally speaks with a smile that stops short of reaching his eye. 

“May your marriage be long and fruitful,” he says with almost clenched teeth. Your husband thanks him, oblivious to the tone of voice. With his hands behind his back, Daemon amusedly watches everything that was happening.

Jace looks in your direction and says, "I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to take your 'newdly' wife for a dance." Jakob nods. You wonder how gullible a man can be. Standing up and crossing over the table to accept Jace's hand. 

You hiss at him, "What are you going?" as the two of you descend the hall's steps, but he feigns innocence, "I have no clue on what you're speaking of." You join the other dancing lord and ladies. "Don't play me the fool, Jace," but when you feel your hand on his waist, your words are caught in your throat. The jerk knows what his touch does to you. 

"I'm a married woman now," you continue in a firm tone. Try to have him take this matter seriously. Yet Jace keeps looking at you with the same burning gaze. Stop looking at me like that. You wanted to tell him. Or else you'll crumble. 

His face is much closer to yours than it should be, and his hands are placed much more intimately than they should be. Your gaze turns to your father, who appears indignant over what he is witnessing. It shifts to your newly husband, who is speaking with Daemon, who has now moved to his side where your seat once was. Daemon seems to congratulate him? Is this the same man you've met before.

'Focus on me, not them,' a hand reaches for your cheek, nudging you to look at him. With his breath nearing your lips, you try to warn him, "Jace.". Eyes widening. He wouldn't do it, would he? Certainly not in front of all those people. 

He whispers, "You were meant to be mine, my wife, my sweet wife," one inch closer and his lips will touch yours. Everyone is too absorbed in their dancing, in their drinks, in their conversations to notice the intimate moment between the two of you. He was going to do it. In front of all those people. And the worst thing of it all. You won't try to stop him.

Then your father's voice booms across the court, signaling the start of the play. It was far too early; you frown. But you understood why your father had done it. The crowd starts to scatter, and it took some resistance to escape Jace's tight grip before anyone had the chance to focus on the two of you.

Upon seeing your father's rage, you hurriedly got back with your husband after tremblingly climbing the few steps. The play opens with a man who can allegedly spit fire and swallow a sword. The stunned crowd gasps, but your expression remains the same; unable to concentrate.

As per usual, your husband continues to be unaware of everything, too occupied with drinking his wine. Then it happens. Your husband starts to choke, but everyone is too preoccupied with watching the play to notice. Patting his back and trying to give him more wine, assuming he must have choked on his food.

The coughing, however, only gets worse, and soon he is spitting out the wine. Few around him begin to turn. Your husband is bending over, grasping the table. His cough grew louder and more started to notice.

He stands shakily, revealing his face. You couldn't help but shriek at the sight and now everyone's attention is on you both. His face is fully red now, and some sounds are heard, but he's unable to speak. Unable to breathe. He stumbles, knocking a few things off the table. Then he drops to the ground.

You hear Daemon shout, "Someone help him, you fools," and when guards and members of his family run to help him, you are shoved aside. Covering your mouth at the graphic and horrifying sight of Jakob trembling on the floor, grabbing at his throat, gagging, all the while trying to gasp for air. 

An arm reaches out to you, leaning you on their chest to avoid looking at the scene. Having been in his arms so often, you recognize it to be Jace. Looking up at him-you see his gaze at the sight. A blank expression on his face. No shock. No worries.

Then you hear the cries of grief—Jakob is dead. All claim to be poisoned. Many cooks and servants have been interrogated, and some hanged. Jakob Lannister had few enemies, leaving the one who caused this to remain a mystery. 

What a cruel joke the gods played on you—to marry and be a widow on the same day. You can see the pitiful looks of everyone in attendance at his funeral. And hear the murmurs when you turn away from them. The word "curse" said more than once.

The royal family was present at the funeral, as they were at the wedding. Jace is leaning against the wall with his eyes on you. He is near his great-uncle, or should you say, stepfather. Prior to your arrival, the two appeared to be speaking. Rhaenyra steps toward you, hugging and telling you what a tragedy it is, that if you need any help, Dragonstone will welcome you at any time. 

As time passed, you grew tired of having everyone's sight on you. So you leave, descending the stairs. No one stops you. No one questions where you’re going. As you make your way outside a little further, you are now walking alongside the beach, feet near the water. Holding onto your shawl as the wind blows. 

A touch is felt on your shoulder causing you to jump only to relax when turning to see seeing its Jace. There is a brief silence as the two of you stare; the longing in his eyes is still there. "You grieve for him?" he asks. In regards to the black cloth covering your shoulders. You shake your head. 

"It's custom, Jace," you say, as if it were the most obvious thing. "There's no need for that with me," tugging on your shawl, letting the wind carry it. It falls into the water and is soon lost in the depths as the waves move it back and forth.

"Jace!" You reprimand him, already annoyed at him for that show he put on at your wedding. In the early morning, before the funeral, your father screamed at you for it. Many assumed your teary eyes were you mourning. 

He grabs you as you try to move away. "You're terrified of him." He knows it's your father who opposed the marriage. Your father was a good friend of Lord Hightower, and you often heard his disdain for Rhaenyra. In some instances, you heard him even refer to Jace as "prince strong."

Despite knowing in your heart that you would have married Jace the moment he got down on one knee, you argue that it’s not just about father." Then what is it, he asks. "Jace, marrying you means one day becoming the queen," you tell him, hoping he understands. But the only response you got was an “And?” 

Your father's words are now echoing in your head and you utter them word by word to Jace. How he deserved someone far more worthy, more strong-willed, more powerful. You were neither of those. 

But Jace only shushes your words, holding your face in his hands. He speaks praises of you. How he believes you’ll make a good queen. You find it hard to believe. Then he says, "You're perfect," and it's difficult to accuse him of lying given the way he's looking at you.

He gazes at you with so much love, and before you know it. He kisses you. Oh, how you missed his lips, reaching your hands to the nape of his neck, returning his kiss with eagerness. This was wrong. But could you bring yourself to care when feeling his hands roam your body. 

His lips leave yours soft and swollen. Grabbing your hands, kissing both of your knuckles. Then placing them on his chest, "It's beating for you," he says, "Only you." You found yourself inching near him, closing your eyes when your head lay against his chest. 

You love Jace, truly love him. You love the smile he gives you when you enter the room. The way he surprises you with your favorite flowers. The way he pulls the seat out for you. The way he listens to all your rambles. The way he dries your tears. Would you have ever gotten that from Jakob or any other lord your father tries to marry you off.

On the other hand, you truly despise your father. Never understood and made an effort to learn the language of girls. So badly he wanted a son. Still, you thought you'd make him proud, being the ideal daughter, always obedient and polite. 

So when you ask your father one thing-just one thing. To marry the prince and your father threw the offer in your face. Now you can rest easy, not caring about his disappointment any longer.

"Marry me." You finally utter the words. Whispered so low, but you could tell he heard them from his hands slightly tightening their grip on your sides. Opening your eyes to face him, "Take me to Dragonstone, make me your wife, Jacaerys." And now it’s you who leans in, grazing your lips over his while gently yet firmly holding his cheeks.

Jace returns your kiss intensely, desperately moving his mouth into yours; pouring his entire soul into it. His hands are back to exploring your body, holding you to him as humanly possible. A desire runs from your heart to your inner thighs.

He pulls away and you try to reach for his lips again, but he steps back. You're slightly perplexed when he starts to remove his cloak. Moving further away from the waves, he lays the cloak on the sand. 

And the realization suddenly dawns on you. Here? Now? Even with the possibility of someone finding you. You cast your eyes over the distance where the funeral is still taking place. Still, you take Jace’s hand. Fuck it, you thought. 

Laying your back on the cloak as he climbs on top of you. Feeling his nose nudging yours, you couldn’t help but smile and he returns it, kissing your nose. You tilt your head to allow your lips to meet again. 

Then you sensed his hand reaching for the back of your dress as his fingers roughly pulled the strings holding it together. Your dress descends, revealing your shoulders to the prince. He presses a soft kiss to the skin exposed as he pulls the dress down further, barring your chest.

Your nipples harden when exposed to the cold air. Biting your lower lip at the way his eyes leer over them. No matter how many times he has seen them, he’s always entranced. With eyes closed, he takes one of your nipples in his mouth, tongue darting out to wet the bud before sucking lightly. Gods, sometimes Jace Imagines what your breasts would look like if your belly was round with his child.

You ponder what the people of the realm would think if their future king was ever found sleeping with a widow whose husband's funeral was only a short distance away. Discovered on top of her, his mouth on her chest. 

He closes his lips around your nipple as you exhale a low moan and tilt your head back. You’ve always been so sensitive to his touch as he was to yours. Low moans also slip out of his mouth, seeming to enjoy the act. Possibly even more than you did. Jace would be content to die buried between your legs or with his face between your cleavage. Either way, it’s heaven to him. 

Pulling away, his lips graze yours, clumsily reaching his hands down to untie his trousers. Hearing him curse while struggling to loosen the tight laces makes you chuckle. Reaching to help him, an embarrassed thank you is said under his breath.

Briefly sitting on his knees to pull the trousers to his knees; cock already hard. He pulls your dress up all the way to your hip, exposing your cunt to him. As he reaches down to take hold of the top of his head, slowly pushing it inward an inch at a time, his body rests on yours once more.

Synced moans escape the two of you as his cock slides fully into you. All while, Jace presses tender kisses all over your face. His thrusts are slow, trying to get you to adjust his size. Jace grunts aloud as your walls tighten around him.

You give thanks to the gods that the two of you are far away. You see him biting his lip to contain his loud moans. Still, they can be heard throughout the chilly air. His mind goes numb the moment his cock is buried deep inside of you. 

There are all sorts of words said by him; declarations of love, but all come out slurred as if he's in a drunken haze. His face is buried in the crook of your neck. Thrusting his body, his heavy moans are heard feeling his cock surge through your hole.

His thrusts are becoming sloppy. He's close. His finger moves down,  circling your clit, wanting you to feel the same euphoria alongside him. His cock is deep enough, you can feel the head touching your cervix. 

His lip begins to bleed between his teeth. He’s close. Yet he’s holding himself back, twitching inside of you. He wants you to reach your high first. Then when he feels your walls squirming. How fucking tight you’re. Louder whimpers coming from you. He knows you’re close, too. His fingers fasten in their movements against your clit.

An almost scream erupts from you as you reach your orgasm, eyes rolling back. Removing his wet fingers, leaving your cunt to your hips. Not even moments later, Jace came. Harshly digging his fingers into your hips, you were certain any harder and it would start to bruise.

His lips parted in almost broken sobs, chanting your name as though it were a martyr. He releases a spurt of cum, stuffing your cunt to the brim. A few more thrusts and Jace's body collapses on top of yours. Both bodies drenched in sweat even in the chilly air. 

The only sounds that can be heard are Jace's chest heaving and distant wave sounds. The side of his head is resting against your chest as you run a hand through his hair. I love you. He kept saying it almost as if it were a mantra until he became too exhausted to speak. For some time, the two of you remain in this position, soaking up the silence.

When it's time for you to leave, your thighs are trembling, sticky with dried cum. The two of you try your best to present yourselves as neatly and cleanly as you can. Your hands are intertwined with Jace's as the two of you approach Daemon and Rhaenyra.

The two knew everything they needed to know from both of your swollen lips, Jace's messy hair, and the sand stuck to some of the clothes and skin. As Rhaenyra beams a friendly smile your way, Daemon muses, "I can assume she accepted the proposal." Jace catches your confused look. Were they all on this. 

When it's time for the family to depart, you climb up atop Vermax while Jace holds you fast as the dragon soars overhead. You can just imagine your father's fury, his screams of rage, and the furniture he'll probably destroy in his way. You pity the messenger who has to inform your father about the wedding.

As you soar through the air, you ignore all of your thoughts when you feel the prince's chin rest on your shoulder. With the sun behind you, the wind blowing in your faces. Jace presses his lips to yours as you turn to face him and you part ways while smiling. 

After this, Jace is truly in debt to his stepfather.

[promptfairy]

❥    𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒    [   𝚂𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁𝚂    ]   .

change gendered language   &   add context to your needs . happy roleplaying !!  ♡

“ the best way to make beautiful art is to constantly expose yourself to new & exciting places . ” “ nothing makes me happier than seeing a plant i’ve grown from a seed produce a gorgeous bloom !! ” “ you have this magic ability to make people happy . i hope you’ll show me how you do it someday . ” “ it’s good to live in the moment & not worry too much about the past . ” “ isn’t that nice ?? we’re all just little clumps of stardust , walking around . ” “ i was so innocent back then , before i learned the cruel ways of the world . ” “ all i want to do right now is hop into a warm bed & not get out until the end of winter . ” “ come on , treat me like a pretty princess !! ” “ i’ll love myself by eating my favorite ice cream & wearing baggy clothes . ” “ lots of folks try to take the easy road , but that just means you’ve gotta deal with a lot of traffic . ” “ thanks for being my friend . you’re always there for me , & i think that’s great . ” “ there are some things you just don’t realize about places until you leave them . ” “ it’s like i gave you a little piece of my heart , & you kept it safe & warm . ” “ i don’t feel like i can trust anyone right now , so i need to be alone . ” “ were you being nice or sarcastic ?? ” “ no matter how much time passes , i can’t forget him . ” “ why think about boys when you could be thinking about really important issues ?? ” “ my dream is for everyone to find something they can be passionate about & to fully enjoy each day . ” “ i’m okay with anything , as long as there’s some romance in the story . . . ” “ you’re looking awful as ever . who dresses you ?? ” “ are you some kind of antisocial freak , or something ?? ” “ whenever we talk , i feel like there’s a lot more going on inside you than you ever let anyone see . ” “ you’re so passive - aggressive . get some therapy . ” “ sometimes , all it takes is a good friend to remind you of all the things you like about your life . ” “ if you waste your time doing something you enjoy , then you’re not wasting your time . ” “ i hope you get stung by a thousand bees . ” “ who decided oranges have to be named after their color , but bananas aren’t just called ‘ yellows ’ . . . ?? ” “ doesn’t the sight of petals falling make you feel sad ?? . . . makes me feel kind of sad . life is so fragile . . . ” “ if i pass out here , please make sure i have some lipstick on . ” “ you could give me bellybutton lint & i would still treasure it . ” “ when you laugh , you look dreamy . ” “ i hope you go to jail & that your stupid house is torn down . ” “ you are in need of some serious fashion first - aid . ” “ what sort of sadist would drag me out of bed this early in the morning ?? ” “ i have to drink ten gallons of mint tea every single day . ” “ well , you’re so pretty , it doesn’t matter what atrocious thing you wear . ” “ there are things you want to do & things you have to do . . . but don’t forget to do nothing now & then . ” “ please don’t question my driving or parking skills . you couldn’t even begin to understand the level i’m on . ”