#the universe is pointing and laughing at me

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 6 — JJK (m.)

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

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

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

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 14.6k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc, software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, as usual, super dreamy jk 😞 arguments,, lowkey,, emotional constipation like always, kinda angsty if u squint. Also jungkook kinda abuses the fuck out of 23278648 pet names available in the world even eye laughed... SPOILER AHEAD DONT READ IF U DONT WANNA KNOW [ explicit sexual content: mature language, very indulgent bl*wjob scene lmfao, a teeny tiny bit of c*mplay, fing*ring, c*nniling*s, penetr*tive s*x (p in v), c*wgirl s*x, protected s*x, multiple org*sms, jungkook has a filthy mouth 🫤😑😑 ]

NOTES i dont have anything to say except enjoyyy!! let me know your thoughts in my inbox gimme ur theories gimme ur keeb smashes gimme ur 2746th "i want nb jk so bad" 🤓☝🏼💓💓

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] // [ MAIN MASTERLIST ]

You like to think of yourself as a reasonable person. You make okay decisions, even though it takes you a few weeks and a thousand debriefs. You can’t buy something off the rack without going through 10-year-old posts on Reddit, and you certainly are very keen with people you let into your life – given your two to three friends. 

The point is, while you may be a bit of a klutz, you take your adult life kind of seriously, and especially your relationships.

You were so sure that what happened back at the motel with Jungkook when you were stranded was going to be this whole… one-time-thing. That you both were just horny, stuck in a weird situation, just heat-of-the-moment lapse in judgment, and afterwards he would tell you to forget about it. And if he did, you’d accept it. It might crush you a little bit inside, but you know you’ll be fine to keep going on with your life even though that might have been the best orgasm you’ve had since forever and you’d like to experience it again.

What surprised you the most wasn’t that it happened. It was how you felt the next morning. 

There was no regret. 

When you opened your eyes – bleary and barely awake because of the little hours you got in – Jungkook wasn’t in bed. He was coming back through the door with a bag of pastries and coffee from what you assumed was the local bakery. He told you everything was handled, his car and your stuff, and you could take your time getting ready. You’d head back once you were set.

You fell asleep again on the ride home. Jungkook walked you to your apartment and bid you a kind smile when you said goodbye. 

And nothing happened after. No awkward texts. No slow fade. And you were just so ready for the worst thing to happen. Like him suddenly going MIA on you or something… 

But now it’s the day after, and you’re together again in his car after he texted you to ride with him on the way home after work – cramped up in the driver’s seat with you on his lap.

Frantically making out. 

“Oh,” you let out a soft moan, carding your fingers through Jungkook’s hair, not even caring about how you’re messing up his hairdo.

A needy, impatient sort of heat builds between you two. His mouth is on yours, hands exploring like he couldn’t decide where to start. Another moan slips out from you he cups the swell of your ass through your trousers, and a rush of frustration bubbles up in your chest.  

God, why didn’t you wear a skirt?

“You smell good,” Jungkook murmurs into your neck, kissing a slow trail up to your jaw before groaning as you rock against him, grinding against the growing bulge pressing up through his slacks. 

“Y-yeah?” you mumble, tugging at his tie and popping open the first three buttons of his shirt. Your fingers graze his chest, warm and solid and stupidly inviting. 

“This is the scent you wore back at the party.” He untucks your blouse from your waistband, his warm hands sending shivers down your spine when they travel across the span of your back.

Yeah. And also the scent you exclusively use for special, big occasions. Because in the true broke girl tradition, there’s always that unreasonably priced perfume you keep in your vanity while you spritz the hell out of the cheap one. You’ve only used it a total of ten times ever since you bought it a month ago, the eleventh time being now… which is just a regular day in the office.

But being in Jungkook’s lap and making out with him in his car is not regular day in the office. So maybe you lucked out on spraying that expensive perfume – totally because it was just there on your vanity, by the way – and not because you were expecting something to happen today.

Totally.

“Uh, yeah,” you shift on his lap. “It was on sale.” 

Which is probably information he did not need and a total bald-faced lie. 

He hums, kisses dropping down to your sternum, hands getting heavier under your clothes. You take his face in your hands again to press your mouth on him, your moan getting swallowed by his eager reciprocity, both in the movement of his tongue inside your mouth and his erection that’s making you wet your panties as you rock your hips against him. 

Jungkook’s fingers trace the cups of your bra. “Can I?” He asks, mouth agape. You don’t even know what he meant, you just nod. A second later and he’s squeezing your breasts in his palms.

“S-so you wanted to drive me home for this?” you arch your brow at him playfully, grinding against his lap and relishing in the warmth of his hands on your chest. God, you wish he’d do something about your bra soon. 

Jungkook chuckles, nipping your jaw. “No. I wanted to ask you to come over to my place to have dinner.”

As if that triggered your intestines, your stomach suddenly growls – quite loudly in the confined space of his car and around the quiet parking lot of the building. 

Jungkook freezes, staring at you. 

You shut your eyes close in embarrassment, groaning. “Ugh, sorry. I haven’t eaten at all today and you mentioning dinner is making me remember that.” 

“Oh…”

Jungkook reluctantly watches you as you carefully leave his lap, completely halting your previous activity. He grips your hand as he helps you transfer to the passenger’s seat, looking at you as you put your hair up and tuck your shirt.

He adjusts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat. You can’t help but eye the very obvious outline of his dick in his pants, and it’s very huge, alright, making you grin. 

“I hope that’s not gonna be a problem.” 

Jungkook takes in the mischief in your eyes and scoffs playfully, shaking his head as he starts the ignition to drive. 

You spend about thirty minutes in the shower – which is definitely not at all your usual routine – but it did the job. You smell like raspberries now, and the outfit you pulled on afterwards looks casual enough for Jungkook not to suspect what’s going on underneath. Just an oversized shirt and pajama pants. Innocent. Normal. 

But you have on a lacy pair of white thong… just in case something does happen tonight. At least you’re the least bit prepared… 

When you look at your phone, it’s already 10:15pm, and Jungkook told you to be over at his place at 10:20. You check yourself in the mirror one last time and head straight to the kitchen where you grab the plastic container of a batch of choco-chip cookies you baked the second he dropped you off earlier.

You’ve perfected the recipe now, you’re sure of it. 

But just as you make a beeline for your door, a sudden warmth gushes between your thighs.

An all too familiar feeling by now. 

Oh no.

You dash to the bathroom, tug your pajama pants down, slide off your panties and – yep. There it is. A bright red stain against the flimsy white fabric that went right through the pants.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter, frowning. Of all the nights to get your period, of course it had to be this one.

You had showered. Prepped. Put on the g-string. And you were this close to maybe – possibly – having sex with Jungkook. You hadn’t said anything about it, not outright, but come on. That impulsive make-out session in the car earlier? The way he kept adjusting himself? The tension practically humming between you?

Yeah, something was definitely going to happen.

Well, probably not anymore.

Grumbling, you toss your pants into the laundry and rummage through your cabinet for a pad. You move like you’re trudging through emotional mud, begrudgingly pulling on a clean pair of a less sexier granny panties and fresh bottoms.

So much for that.

It’s not like you had any of this figured out anyway. No “so, what happened” talk, no conversations about the night at the motel or whatever is… happening now. And now your uterus has decided to sabotage you. Amazing. 

Still, cookies in hand and spirits only mildly deflated, you head out of your apartment and make your way to Jungkook’s porch. 

He opens the door on the second buzz, greeting you with a grin that makes your stomach flip. Even more so when you realize he’s wearing sweatpants. Grey sweatpants. Ugh. This man.

“Hi.” 

“Hey, come in,” Jungkook says, eyeing the plastic in your hand. “What’s that?” 

“Cookies.” you bring it up to your chest. “I made them real quick so it’s not a lot. But I can assure you it’s better now and you definitely won’t get food poison.” 

He chuckles, leading the way to his living area. “You say that as if I got food poisoning the first time.” 

“Maybe you did and you just didn’t tell me.” 

He shakes his head, still smiling. “You know you didn’t have to bring something, right?” 

“Uh-huh.,” you mutter, following him in, “but since you’re making dinner, I thought I could take care of dessert.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, your face scrunch up. 

Jungkook pauses just long enough to glance back at you, amused, before shaking his head again with another soft laugh. 

What? What did he think you meant by that? Geez… 

Comfortable silence settles between you, the soft clinking of wine glasses and the distant narration of some random BBC documentary filling the space. You teased Jungkook again about his massive TV – said the faces look so big that it’s just kind of funny – but really, it’s kind of cute the way his ears flush red when he gets shy talking about his stuff. 

You talk. About work, mostly. Jungkook’s been pulling longer shifts, taking on more than usual. You tell him about your days have been the same lately, just mindless repetition. He compliments the cookies you brought, and after a bit of coaxing, admits the first batch you made for him weeks ago were kind of bad. You laugh and pretend to be offended.

It was nice. 

Somehow, you talk about everything and nothing. Not once either of you mentioned the motel. Not the kiss in the parking lot. Not even a vague nod to the tension that’s been following you around like a ghost. 

And maybe that’s the problem.

It feels like Jungkook’s waiting for you to jump the gun first. But how the hell are you supposed to do that? How do you casually bring up the fact that he kissed you like he meant it? How exactly are you going to talk about the night you shared a kiss with the man you think you’ve liked for so many weeks now? How are you going to talk about how he made you orgasm to sleep because it was the best you've ever had since and it was so much better than the scenarios you’ve made up in your head? And god, those scenarios didn’t even live up to the very real thing. 

You want to bring it up. God, you need to. Not because you’re hopeful that this night would lead to something – but because you just need to know if he would want to do that again sometime.

But something in you is scared that Jungkook will suddenly speak up and tell you the night was a mistake and you both should get over it.

But you also know that kiss in the parking lot must’ve meant something. The way you just jumped at each other like you weren't in a public space and Jungkook not minding one bit must’ve meant that he wanted it too.

That maybe, just like you, he can’t help but notice the thick tension up in the air as you sit on the couch so close to each other, his familiar scent overwhelming your senses, and the way he looks so cozy in his white shirt and… grey sweatpants. Ugh. You swear you weren’t going to pay any attention to it as soon as he opened that door, but how could you not when he just looks way too effortlessly good and you know exactly what it's hiding–

“You want some more?” 

Your thoughts are cut short when Jungkook suddenly speaks, looking at your wine glass. 

“Uh…” you glance at the clock. “No, I should probably get going. It’s almost 11. I have work tomorrow– we have work tomorrow,” you chuckle awkwardly, glancing at the wall clock across the room. 

Just like that, you go back to your shell again, overwhelmed by your anxiety and fear of rejection. 

But for a brief second, Jungkook looks disappointed by your response, although he’s quick to wipe that off with a smile. 

“Okay. I’ll walk you out.”

Okay. Well maybe you didn’t really want him to say that at all. 

Hiding your disappointment this time, you stand up from the seat and let Jungkook talk you into leaving the wine glasses on the coffee table as opposed to bringing it to the kitchen yourself, as Jungkook insisted he’ll take care of it once you leave. 

Jungkook’s hand lingers on your lower back as you stand by his door, ready to say goodbye. 

“Thanks for the dinner.” you say quietly.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook smiles. “We can do this again sometime.” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow, then?” 

You halt your steps, lips curling into a half-smile. “That flatters me.” 

Jungkook leans on the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. “I was hoping so.” 

You bite back a grin, nod, turning to leave. But…

“__—”

“Jungkook—”

Your head snaps quickly to his direction, and you both stare at each other in surprise. Jungkook’s gaze melts into a soft look.

“You first.” 

“No, you first.” 

“___,” he says with a chuckle, coaxing. 

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself. 

Just take the chance, something in your head tells you. 

And you took the bait. 

“This is going to sound incredibly stupid,” you start, voice low and hesitant. “but what happened back at the motel — I’m not sure if we’re allowed to talk about that again — but we kind of kissed this afternoon and I… I don’t know what that meant. I guess what I’m trying to say is… I wanna do it again sometime. If you’re willing,” you voice wavers, trying to look into his eyes but the weight of your words crawl deep in your skin it makes you scared to even make eye contact. “But if you’re not, then that’s totally fine. We can forget it happened.” 

Silence stretched for a beat too long. Panic starts to rise in your chest – until Jungkook steps forward.

“If I’m willing?” He echoes, blinking like he’s not sure he heard you right. 

You nod, wary. “Y-yeah…?” 

He steps closer, and your breath catches. 

“Do you know how much I’ve thought about you since then?” He takes a tentative touch to your hips, and when you don’t say a thing or make a move to pry him off, Jungkook takes a hold of you to pull you closer, making you gasp quietly. “Everytime I close my eyes, all I can think about is how I’ve held these hips as I licked you, kissed you, and touched you. I’ve never been one to give in to my wants as easy as the way you made me when we walked back to my car this afternoon because all I wanted to do was to have a taste of you again, even though I would’ve liked for us to talk first. That means I can’t have enough,” Jungkook studies your face as he leans down, gaze so full of want, but there’s a certain control under his hold. It makes your breath hitch.

“And you want to know if I’m willing?” Jungkook tacks on, lifting his hand to caress your cheek, gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips. You anticipate his next words, but when he presses you closer – that’s when you feel it. The hard-on he’s sporting under the grey sweatpants you’ve been fantasizing about ever since you walked in on his apartment.  

“Oh…” you gasp, reaching for his shoulder as you feel your knees slightly buckling. 

Then, Jungkook chuckles, amused. But it’s dark and rich, and his boner is still very much pressing to your stomach. 

In the heat of the moment, you stand on your tippy toes and kiss Jungkook. 

He seems to be surprised at it first, but his arms slowly make their way around you to hold you as you tighten yours around his neck, letting out a soft moan when his tongue prods in. 

You stumble inside, Jungkook walking you back inside his apartment all the while not breaking the kiss, and the next thing you know, he’s kicking off the door shut, hands travelling down to your legs to carry you across his apartment. 

You yelp at the sudden way your feet get lifted off the ground, but Jungkook carries you with a certain grace as if you’re nothing but paperweight – hot tongue swirling around your mouth like kissing you was a lifeline. 

He lays you down gently on the couch, trailing kisses along your jaw. When you grab at the hem of his shirt, he sits back to quickly rid himself off the material. 

You bite on your bottom lip as soon as you see what’s on display. Wide chest, narrow waist, toned abdomen, and sculpted arms with ink. You would’ve liked to admire it more but Jungkook quickly goes back to kissing you after taking off his shirt, hands roaming all over your body as if he can’t quite decide where to put it at all. Then, he kneels in between your spread legs, slowly settling himself down on the floorboards. You watch with half-lidded eyes as his lips leave trail kisses down your neck to your sternum, until his hands slide your top off your stomach, kissing the exposed skin. 

Your hands settle on his soft locks, where you admire the way he moves down your body, huge hands splayed on your skin, making you ache in between your legs.

Your eyes blow out as you remember exactly what’s in between your legs. 

Fuck. 

Before Jungkook can kiss you there, you grab at his shoulders. “Jungkook,” 

He looks up quickly, fringe going in different directions, biceps unconsciously flexing at your touch. “Hm?” 

Even though it pains you, you tell him, “We can’t tonight…” 

“Ah, that’s alright,” He looks up at you in genuine concern. “You’re not feeling okay tonight?” 

You shake your head. “No… that’s not it,” You make a face, feeling annoyed all over again. God. Hot sex was on the table. And your period just ruined it. “I got my period. My cycle usually starts at the end of the month.” 

Jungkook nods in realization, squeezing your hips in understanding.

“Sorry, then. Should I get you something? I think I may have ice cream in the fridge.” He raises a brow, eyes drifting off to his kitchen. 

You take his cheek, grabbing his jaw gently to make him look at you. 

“Actually… I was thinking we don’t have to stop.” 

His eyes may have lightened up, and Jungkook takes your wrist to press a kiss to the side of your hand. 

“Yeah, I don’t really mind as long as you’re comfortable with it. We’ll put on a towel— okay, I can see on your face that’s not what you meant.” 

“No…? I was thinking I’ll give you a blowjob instead.” 

“Ah…” Jungkook nods again. “Are you sure? Don’t you have cramps?” 

You chuckle. “Not yet. It’ll kick in on the second day,” You nudge him with your foot. “Come on up here.” 

“You’re sure? We don’t need to do anything, baby,” 

Baby. God. That nickname had always been so generic but there’s something about the way it rolls off Jungkook's tongue. 

“I’m sure.” 

Jungkook gives you one of his million dollar smiles and kisses his way back up until your lips meet again. 

“Can I?” You nod when Jungkook tugs at your shirt. With your permission, he slides your top off, hissing at the sight of your bra-cladded chest. 

He goes down to lick your nipple through the material, and you grab his hair when you feel him give you a slightly harsh nip. He licks it again, as if offering some sort of silent apology. 

When he pulls the cups down, that’s when you push him to the side making him fall to the couch, and you take that time to kneel down this time in between his spread legs. 

“Put this on your knees first.” Jungkook hands you the throw pillow on the couch. You take them and fluff them under your knees, and when you finish doing that, you attend to Jungkook’s very taunting grey sweatpants, tugging it off him. He helps you slide the pants off together with his boxers – and you have to fight the urge to take it slow when his hard cock springs free. 

You’ve seen it before, have held it – but those moments felt so brief that they almost didn’t feel real. So when you see it up-close, so girthy and standing tall against his abdomen with the angry red tip slightly leaking, your breath gets caught up in your throat. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook lets out a low groan when you begin teasing kisses to his thighs.

His gorgeous, thick thighs.

God… you wonder how it would tense up with your feet resting on them as you bounce up and down on his huge cock. 

But you watch the way they clench when your lips get nearer to where he aches; watch as they tense under your touch when you place your hands there. And you watch Jungkook – most especially – as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, dark with want, his chest heaving under the tension. 

“Is this what you want?” You ask, blinking at him meekly. His mouth opens to speak, but you don’t let him say another word as you let a glob of saliva fall down to the crown of his cock. You adjust your position in between his thighs, getting more comfortable but also pushing your ass out as you wrap your hand around the base. 

Jungkook hisses when you twist your hand, gingerly spreading the wetness of your saliva around him. He lets his back fall to the back of the couch with a light thud, and you smirk when you see his abs clench. 

“You’re killing me here, __. Don’t tease.” 

You give him a non-committal hum. You meant to tease, but touching him like this feels like all your thoughts have suddenly gone to mush, and you’re left with only want – the want to pleasure him, to get him to let out those little huffs and grunts like when you two kissed…

You languidly move your hand around his shaft, humming at the way his tip oozes out more wetness which makes it easier for you to stroke him. You can’t help but watch in fascination as he seems to continue to grow around you. So hard and veiny… almost needy, the way he breathes heavily above you.

“Baby, fuck… you’re so pretty, god—” Jungkook’s words get cut off when you lean down to close your lips around the head, sucking at the softer tip before you take more of his length. “F-fuck…” Jungkook rasps, fingers gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail when you start bobbing your head up and down.

He feels big. Warm. But you smile to yourself when Jungkook shifts on the couch at the sensation. It felt good to have him squirming like that beneath your touch, to have him keening like this. 

Gripping the base, you twist your fingers around the remaining length you couldn’t put in your mouth, jacking him off. From there, you start picking up your pace until Jungkook’s a panting mess. You’ve never pegged him as the type to be so… vocal. But it felt good, and at this point, you just want to see him let go of himself, even as he grips your hair tighter by every second that passes. It didn’t hurt enough to be uncomfortable, the force was just right – and it felt like he’s holding on to every muscle of his to not use too much force on your head by the way you can feel his other hand hovering over your hair. 

“Ah, __… baby, shit. Yeah, you’re taking my cock so well– shit…”

You pump him faster, and every now and then, you would suck at the tip gingerly, kiss the veins around his rock hard dick, roam with your tongue, and test the waters and massage his balls. Soft groans escape past his lips, hips arching off the couch.

“Shit— baby, fuck,” 

You hum, pleased with that. Your tongue teases the underside of his cock with every downstroke, just to hear him swear. You lick off the glistening juice off the head, lick around the ridge, and tighten your grip around the base, sinking your mouth up and down faster.

“God, your mouth is–aghh– Jesus fuck baby I’m gonna–” 

You slurp noisily around his cock as you try to take him deeper – and at one point you actually feel him hitting the back of your throat but you were careful enough to adjust your angle and continue to suck him up and down. Jungkook’s gasps increase in speed and pitch, and you can feel him trying to get you off him when he tries to pull your face away from his lap. 

“Baby, you gotta–” 

But you don’t even let him finish that thought when you grip his thigh with your other hand, sucking his head that gets him keening again.

“Shit, shit, shit __ I’m going to– f-fuuuck,”

Jungkook shoots his hot cum in your mouth, and you didn’t really expect it to be so… much. The first wave felt heavy, but as his thighs spasm, his dick continues to squirt some more, and you open your mouth to catch them all. 

“Fuck.” 

You pull back with a wet pop, opening your eyes to meet Jungkook’s stare. Your fingers are still around his length when you lick around your lips, noting the way his eyes darken at the sight of you in front of him like this – kneeling in between his legs and licking his cum. 

His chest heaves up and down, and he looks like he was about to say something when you suddenly slack your jaw to present your mouth to him – your mouth that’s now painted white with his cum. He watches you carefully as you close your eyes and swallow.

“Jesus.” 

“Didn’t know you were religious like that.” you say as soon as everything’s gone in your mouth, giving him a cheeky smile. It’s a bit salty, not terrible, though you kind of expected that.

When you look at Jungkook, his mouth opens and closes like fish in water. You beat him to it when you rise, crawling up on his chest to press your lips to his. 

You realize he might be one of those guys who didn't like it very much when their partners kissed them on the mouth right after giving them a blowjob – but Jungkook only slides his arm around your waist, deepening the kiss, dipping his tongue in your mouth until you’re settled on his lap again. 

“You’re a fucking dream.” Jungkook says before kissing you again. 

You giggle in his mouth, pushing him away slightly. His eyebrows knit in confusion, but he doesn't really look like he’s processing anything. 

“You know I realized something about you,” you plant a sweet kiss on the side of his lips. “You don’t cuss at all, but you do it a lot during sex.” 

Jungkook’s expression contorts into a frown, as if that was news to him. “Do I?” 

You chuckle. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that–” then as if cutting off his own thoughts, he dives in for a kiss again. He pulls away for a second, caressing your cheek and thumbing your jaw before staring at you. “God, you’re gorgeous. Pretty girl.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I think my brain’s broken right now. I don’t have coherent thoughts.” 

That makes you laugh. You pat his chest and notice the way Jungkook reluctantly lets you get off his lap, watching with hooded eyes as you rise to your feet. 

“Well, I’ll have to get going. It’s—” you glance at the wall clock. “almost 12.”

Jungkook takes your wrist, and you have to be very brave to not look at his lap because he still hasn’t pulled up his pants yet and his dick is still very much on display. And you weren’t really kidding about having to go because you do have an early day tomorrow. 

“Do you really have to go?” 

You pout. “I have to.” 

He sighs as if that disappointed him. “Okay… let me walk you out.” 

Jungkook – finally – pulls his pants up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he rises to his feet. He doesn’t bother putting on his shirt, though, and you don’t comment on it, figuring he’d stay inside anyway.

But when you see him slipping into his slides to follow you out, you press a hand lightly to his bare abdomen and laugh. “Hey, it’s literally, like five steps away. Go back inside.”

He pauses, brows furrowing in slight confusion before glancing down at himself. “Let me just grab my shirt, then—”

That makes you giggle. “Brain still broken?” 

“I think so…” he trails off then looks at you. “Hey, come here,” he doesn’t wait for you to do so though, just reaches for you to pull you by the waist, pressing you close to him. He leans down and gives you a slow kiss. You could actually feel air being taken away from you when he pulls away, his smile as gentle as the hand that rubs your back. “Thank you, and good night. See you tomorrow?” 

You nod, feeling your cheeks flush. 

“Okay. Night. And see you tomorrow.” 

With a small wave, you turn toward your apartment, not daring to glance back as you head to the door. But you can feel his gaze on you, watching as you slip inside. 

It felt like Jungkook wanted you to stay longer…

But the ache in between your thighs was starting to get uncomfortable, and honestly, you really needed to change your pad. 

Because the wetness there? Yeah, it definitely wasn’t just your period.

“So… is my laptop dying or…?” 

“For the third time; no, your laptop is not dying,” Jungkook gives you a playful shake of his head. “It’s just laggy because you watch a lot of porn on it and you turned off your antivirus for some reason.” 

You gasp. A dramatic one. 

You give Jungkook a scandalous look before sitting down on the couch with him, peeking over what he’s doing on your device. Frankly, you don’t like it when people touch your things – especially your gadgets – because you had a lot of private stuff in them. But thirty minutes ago, your laptop randomly shut down while you had been doing some excel spreadsheets. In a weird coincidence, Jungkook called you the same time it happened. So you told him about it, and he offered to swing by and take a look. He was a tech guy, after all… and anyway, getting it fixed at some shop would have been expensive. 

“I don’t watch porn!” you protest, glaring at him. 

Jungkook just blinks at you, looking unconvinced. Then he shrugs. “Okay.” 

“And what do you mean antivirus? I don’t even know I have one,” you mumble, placing the bowl of freshly cut watermelon on the coffee table. You fold your legs underneath you and inch closer to see what he’s actually doing. He’s been at it for a few minutes now, but all you see are lines of text and windows you can’t even pretend to understand.

“Yes, you do. And you did turn it off,” he says, gesturing at the screen. It’s full of stuff that might as well be in a foreign language. “These are malware. See this? Classic spyware script. You probably clicked on one of those fake play buttons with a hot singles ad or something.”

You give him a baleful look. He snorts.

“You’re not funny. And I watch porn on twitter like a normal person– okay sometimes maybe I do watch on shady websites but why do you even know that? And why are you interested in my porn.” 

“You watch porn on twitter?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“Hm. Interesting,” he nods and turns to the screen again. “Well, I wanna know what you like.” 

You almost fall off the sofa. “Like you want me to give you a list of porn accounts?” 

Jungkook actually laughs at that. “What? No. I mean, I'm interested in the porn you like.” 

Oh.

“Uhm, I don’t particularly like anything,” you say, although maybe you immediately think of those videos where the woman is on the guy’s lap and he fingers her hard in front of the camera – but other than that, not really. You aren’t some freakazoid about porn. Most of the time, you were fine getting off with pure imagination. “I don’t like BDSM though, I think.” 

Jungkook nods, but his eyes are not really on you and instead focused on your laptop as he does things. “Hmm.” 

Your head snaps in his direction. “What do you mean, hmm?” 

Jungkook meets your stare. “What?” 

You study his face, narrowing your eyes. But he just looks at you in confusion, although there’s a little smile tugging at his lips. You drop it anyway, reaching for the watermelon cuts on the coffee table and start eating them as you watch whatever magic Jungkook is doing on your device.

“Anyway, I pirate a lot of movies so there’s that.” You thought that would be helpful to share. Those sites do have a lot of those pop-up ads, and you’d really rather endure that than have some big fuckass streaming corporation steal from you every month. 

“I know, I’m just teasing about the porn websites,” Jungkook chuckles when you glare at him. “I could share my streaming accounts with you. I think I have everything.” 

Your eyes light up almost instantly, but then you manage to catch yourself. 

“Uh, no, you don’t really need to do that…” 

He hums, goes back to your laptop. You don’t think about it too much when you pick up a watermelon and hover it over his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to eat it off your finger, and you don’t  expect the way he sucks the juices off, tongue swirling around your digit while looking into your eyes. It feels like the whole moment took a minute, but in reality it was really only a few seconds, and Jungkook’s back to doing his thing on your laptop. 

Oh. 

Oh… okay. Well. 

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks as you drop your hand to your side, absentmindedly eating your watermelon bites.

Ugh. When will your period end?! Given, it’s only really day two, and you probably have two or three more days to go but ugh… 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Jungkook suddenly speaks, rising to his feet. 

“All done. I installed a better antivirus, and I logged in my streaming accounts so you don’t get malware again. Also turned off some useless background programs because you had too many running– and I recovered your excel file,” he says, and you give him a grateful smile as you take your laptop and bring it to your chest like it’s your baby. Jungkook chuckles at the sight. “I have to go to the toilet, though. Want to order in and watch something when I’m back?”

“Yeah, sure! Toilet’s over there,” you point to the far right direction of the apartment and watch Jungkook disappear into view to enter the bathroom. 

You’re hacking away on your laptop when a phone starts buzzing on the coffee table. 

Jungkook’s phone. 

You hesitate. You don’t want to knock on the bathroom door just to hand it to him, but you don’t feel right ignoring it either. 

The buzzing stops, and you feel relieved for all of one second when it suddenly starts again. 

You lean slightly over – not really reaching, just peeking – to see who it is. What if it’s work? What if it’s important? You could tell him about it when he comes back… 

The screen lights up with a name: Dad.

You gasp. Just a little.

The bathroom door creaks open behind you and you straighten up like you weren’t doing anything. Jungkook walks out, toweling his hands on his jeans.

“Oh, hey, someone's calling you.” 

He gives you a curious look before he crosses the room. You try not to watch too closely as he picks up his phone, but you see it; the way his brows knit together, the way his stance and tone shift when he looks back at you. 

“I need to take this real quick” He gestures to the phone. You nod.

He walks far enough that you can’t really make out the conversation, but when you take a peek to look at him, he looks so serious. You’ve only ever seen serious Jungkook when he was at work. 

A few seconds later, he returns – apologetic eyes, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hey, I got called into work just now. I’m sorry we can’t have dinner tonight.” 

Oh, so you were right! It was a work thing. Still… you wonder why his dad was the one calling.

“No, it’s fine! It must be super important,” you say quickly. “Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow instead?” You say, smiling up at him brightly. 

Jungkook breaks into a smile. Then, out of nowhere, he steps closer and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. 

You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Kissing, that is. Just this morning, he drove you to work and you made out before he even started the engine. Then later. After parking, his hands wandered a little too much before you swatted him off, gently reminding him that your breasts were feeling tender from your period.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Then just like that, Jungkook makes his way out of the apartment, and you don’t even know that you’ve been smiling like crazy until the black screen of your laptop catches your silly expression. 

You miss Jungkook. 

Okay— well. It’s just been two days, really. Well, more like today is day two. So it’s actually just been a full day. But there were no texts yesterday, and there were certainly no calls either. You haven’t seen him come out of his apartment, and you hate that you’re starting to worry. 

You were debating whether to send him a message or not when suddenly, your doorbell rings. You weren’t expecting any visitors, especially not today when it was still so early in the morning and you have to go to work soon! But maybe it was your landlord, complaining about something again…

You groan at that, snatching your bag from the counter, planning to head straight to work after dealing with whoever it is. You slide your shoes on, ready for that condescending landlord tone only to freeze when you open the door.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, acting like you’ve just seen a ghost. And he seems to think so as well, cocking his head to the side at the unusual greeting. “You’re here.” you blurt out. 

“Yeah, I went back to my place last night but only for awhile. We launched a system yesterday and something broke in production. QA didn’t catch it, so now we had to roll it—” as if he thought he was sparing you with some boring talk, he cuts himself off and smiles at you instead. “I had to work overtime. I’m sorry I missed dinner last night.”

“Eh, don’t worry. It’s not that serious. I know you're extra busy these days. Anyway, are you on the way to work?” Jungkook nods. “We should go together, then.” 

“I was just going to say that.” 

You step out of your apartment, and Jungkook waits for you to lock up before you both walk side by side down the stairs. You don’t know why but somehow, having seen him today and walking with him to his car where you’re gonna be riding in together to go to work was giving you a sense of contentment that you missed yesterday. Okay, so maybe this was a thing that was starting to grow on you. And maybe being with Jungkook genuinely makes you feel happy – giddy, for the most part. But it felt silly to have missed him when it was only really a day…

But you didn’t really want to dwell on that. It wasn’t Jungkook’s obligation to drive you to work everyday, and you certainly aren’t entitled to his undivided attention when you know exactly just how hectic his work schedule is. You couldn’t ask him to make time for you, even though you would like that.

“Oh!” Jungkook startles beside you when you suddenly halt. You look at him, wide-eyed. “Jungkook, it’s September first today!” 

Jungkook checks his phone, brows furrowed. “Yes…?” 

You eye him incredulously. “It’s your birthday!” 

At first, the words didn’t seem to register, but Jungkook slowly nods. “Ah yeah, it’s my birthday today.”

“Why do you sound so unexcited?” You pout. 

He chuckles, stepping closer to brush away a stray of hair you hadn’t even noticed had fallen across your face.

“Baby, it’s just another day.” 

You feeze at the word. It’s the first time he called you that outside of you two… fooling around. It slips naturally from his mouth in that situation, but hearing it in this very non-sexual context was kind of throwing you off-balance – because this moment wasn’t supposed to feel intimate. Not like that, anyway.

Looking away, you say, “Still. You should do something to celebrate. Oh! I think… oh…” your eyes widen at the thought of throwing him a mini-party tonight. Obviously, Jungkook doesn't make a big deal of his birthdays, based on his response. But you thought about baking him a cake. And cookies! He liked the cookies you made last time! And you were practicing cakes these days so maybe it’d be nice to make him a small one. You turn to him with hopeful eyes. “Are you free tonight?” 

Jungkook hesitates, but he smiles down at you. “Yeah, I’m free tonight. Why?” 

You grin. “You’ll have to come to my place to find out! Oh, it’s gonna be fun. Ugh, I wish we can invite Jimin…”   

You’re honestly proud of yourself for not breaking down when the piping tip you bought turns out to be the wrong one. The blue icing on your apron now looks like abstract art, and there’s enough sugar on your kitchen floor to summon an army of rants.

You just wanted the cake to be perfect. The cookies already were – but the cake, maybe not so much. And it was fine! It tasted fine! But the decorating sucked and at this point you just kind of wish Jungkook would look past the awkward lettering and appreciate the effort behind all these. 

You didn’t have much time. He texted you after work that he couldn’t drive you home. He had to stay late, which actually worked out because it gave you the extra time you needed to prepare. 

Although for the record, this wasn’t even a real surprise. You just made baked goods. And you cooked some food. And by cook you scratched off the chicken shop’s label and put it in the microwave to heat it up by the time you finished cleaning up your place since Jungkook was gonna be here by 11pm. 

Which is why, at 10:40, you rush to the shower.

When you’re done, you step in front of the mirror to check yourself out. You’ve rummaged through your closet and found an old lingerie you don’t remember ever putting on. You remember it as one of those “feel-good” purchases awhile ago. 

It’s nothing special, really. Just your usual black lace two-piece. The bra’s light and sheer, made of floral lace with thin straps that sat neatly on your shoulders. There are little pink bows too on them, which kind of made it cute. It didn’t offer much coverage, what with your nipples poking through the fabric – but that seemed to be the point. Meanwhile the panties are just as bold; crotchless, cut daringly open in the center, but softened by the same delicate lace. The set originally had garter straps and thigh-high stockings, but you thought that would be an overkill so you opted out of it. 

You cover it up with a casual white dress, spritzing on the La Belle perfume Jungkook always seems to like a little too much. 

There, everything’s done. Your period’s gone too, obviously, (day four, thank god) almost as if it knew not to ruin this night for you. 

When you head out of your bedroom, you pick your phone up from the kitchen counter to dial Jungkook’s phone. 

He usually answers on the first or second ring, but this time, he doesn’t. Wasn’t unusual or anything, given how busy he is… but you do frown when the ringing ends and there’s nothing that comes next but his voicemail.

Your frown deepens. You shift from one foot to the other, glancing at the clock. It’s past eleven now. Fifteen minutes past, to be exact. 

Jungkook’s not usually late to things.

You sigh, trudging to one of the chairs in the dining area where you prepared the food and cake for him. You also bought wine and lit up a candle.

You stare at your phone for a solid minute before you pick it up again, deciding to send Jungkook a text. 

You [11:16pm]: hey!! are you running late :> 

You chose to add the emoticon in the end so the text doesn’t feel too mysterious or broody or serious. Really, you aren’t mad, maybe a little upset now – but maybe Jungkook’s just in the middle of something… what was that again? Someone breaking in production, whatever that meant…

But the clock turns 11:25, and there is still no sign of Jungkook on your phone – and even more so on your door. 

You [11:25pm]: are you busy? sorry if im bothering you! 

Then on second thought, you added:

You [11:26pm]: oh no pls dont tell me you forgot.. 🙁

Maybe he did forget. You hadn’t reminded him of it when you talked earlier. Did you have to? He said he was free tonight, so you kind of assumed… 

You sigh again. 

The chicken was turning cold and so was the other food on the table. 

You pick up a cookie to nibble on it, thinking of why Jungkook would forget. Or why he wouldn’t text you back or return your call. 

At eleven thirty, you stand up from your seat, suddenly feeling so… so silly. Silly about the food. Silly about the cake. Silly about your dress. And most especially, you feel silly about the lingerie that’s hidden underneath. 

How silly. To plan all these in expectation of what… Jungkook’s company? 

But it was his birthday. And you wanted to throw him a party, thought it would mean something to him, even though it’s not that much. But you did go through a lot of trouble to put this all out… but he also didn’t ask you either. So really, you have no right to feel upset over him not making good on his promise. 

Wait, did he promise anything though? No, he didn’t. Not really. He just said he was free tonight. No promises. Maybe his schedule changed again and he needed to work overtime. 

You start putting away the food in the fridge, not even having the energy to eat something for dinner. You go back to your room, stripping yourself off and changing into some comfortable pajamas before throwing yourself on the bed. 

Still no texts.

It’s 11:42pm when it comes. 

You hate how fast your body reaches for your phone to see who it was, lighting up when you see Jungkook (Unit 446) on the caller ID, even more so when you answer it. 

“Hey, I got your texts. I’m so sorry, __—”

“It’s fine!” you nibble on your bottom lip as you try to contain your excitement. “Are you coming soon?” 

“I– no, ba—” you flinch involuntarily when you hear him cut himself off. You were so sure he was going to call you baby, but he corrected himself quickly. “You remember the thing I mentioned this morning? The rollback didn’t go as planned. I’m working overtime tonight again so I can’t really go…” 

“Oh…” 

“Did you plan something? It’s just my birthday, __. Maybe we can go somewhere tomorrow?” Jungkook chuckles on the other end of the line, and for the first time it didn’t make you feel giddy or whatever. 

You pick on the bed sheet before answering. “Uh, no. It’s not anything big, actually. I just made you some cookies. And ordered some food. But anyway I just ate dinner first because you took so long,” the lie rolls off your tongue easier than you expected. His laugh made you feel shitty. You know he didn’t mean anything by it – but it just made you feel so… so unimportant.

And suddenly, you want to downplay the whole thing. Because clearly, he thinks it’s no big deal.

“Hey, are you upset?” His tone shifts — gentler now.

“Ah, no. Sorry. I’m so tired and sleepy,” you fake a yawn and snuggle on the bed. “Maybe we can talk tomorrow when you’re here?” 

Tomorrow is now your least favorite word. You’ve heard it too many times from him lately. 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.

Then you hear him sigh. 

“I’m sorry again, I swear I’ll make it up to you.” 

“No need to!” you tell him, making sure to say that as cheerfully as possible. Jungkook doesn’t need to. It’s not like you were dating or something for you to be upset over him bailing on you. “Really, it’s fine. Hey, I’m really, really sleepy now. Good night?” 

“Okay, sorry. Sleep well, __. Tomorrow, okay?” 

You hum, not sure if you believe that. Maybe tomorrow he’s going to have to do overtime again. Maybe tomorrow he won’t be here again.

Whatever. 

It wasn’t a big deal. 

You end the call, but before you can drop your phone onto the nightstand, you type out one last message.

You [11:45pm]: happy birthday! 

You didn’t get much sleep last night. Not like your body clock has ever been particularly reliable, 

This morning, you didn’t really think that much about it when you put the cake in a container and dropped it off at Jungkook’s door on your way down the stairs. You figured you could’ve eaten it, but you made it for him and anyway… it was his birthday and you still think he deserves a cake. He didn’t exactly seem like he was celebrating last night.

You took the bus to work. Nothing unusual, nothing exciting. Just another day dragging your limbs through the same monotonous rhythm. Your brain feels like it’s moving on autopilot by the time you tap your company ID at the building entrance and wait in line for the elevator. 

Slipping inside, you wedge yourself into a spare corner, arms crossed as the lift fills and empties floor by floor. Eventually, it’s just you and one other woman left. She steps out when the elevator dings, cradling her phone against her shoulder as she barks something stressed into the line.

Instinctively, you lean forward and press the hold button, stepping onto the side when you take notice of someone going in, only to realize it was Jungkook. 

It’s funny, really. Somehow, he only ever seems to appear when he’s the last person you’re ready to see. 

“Oh– good morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, dipping your head in a polite little nod. The words sound awkward even to your own ears, stiff. You’ve never had to think about how to interact with him in the workplace.

Judging by the slight flicker on Jungkook’s face, he thinks it sounds weird too. But he recovers quickly, offering a faint smile as he steps in. 

You return his smile, just as polite, and inch a little further to the side – so far that your back nearly presses to the elevator wall, creating an unnecessary gap between you.

The silence is noticeable. Tense, but it’s civil at least. You glance at the floor numbers blinking overhead, half-hoping this ride doesn’t last long.

Then Jungkook shifts in your periphery. 

“Hey, about last night—”

The elevator dings. 

It’s your floor.

You step out quickly, almost too quickly, heart tapping a little faster than it should.

You don’t look back.

You didn’t expect to get a text from Jungkook that night. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [9:37pm]: Do you wanna drive home together? 

You made a mental note to give him a reply but it’s thirty minutes later that you remembered about it.

You [10:11pm]: hey sorry I just got home

Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Okay Jungkook (Unit 446) [10:14pm]: Please come over tonight? I’m cooking 

You [10:16pm]: i'm not sure if I can You [10:17pm]: i’ll try to. I brought home some work :/

He doesn’t give a reply after that.

And maybe that – weirdly – made you irritated. He’d texted first, and he’d asked you over. You gave a soft no, not even a hard one, and he didn’t even try again? Just left it like that?

You sigh and close the lid of your laptop. For once, you hadn’t lied about being busy with work. It was just a few reports you figured you could finish now to make tomorrow lighter and easier. It was nothing really urgent. 

But you do feel sort of guilty about it.

Your door buzzes, and you have second thoughts whether or not you ordered dinner. 

When you open the door, it felt like deja vu.

“Jungkook.” you say, blinking.

“Are you still working?” He’s in his work clothes, though the sleeves of his button-up are slightly rolled now. It looks like he just got home not long ago.

You glance at the laptop on the coffee table. “No, I just finished…” 

“Okay, then I have a question,” Jungkook steps inside, and you unconsciously take a step back at that, looking at him curiously. He watches you carefully. “Are we okay?”

Caught off guard, you stammer when you say, “I– yeah! Sure, why wouldn’t we be?” 

He doesn’t say anything for a beat, then, “You seemed a little off this morning. I thought maybe it was about last night.” 

You try to wave it off, suddenly nervous about Jungkook being so straight-forward. Usually, men were so emotionally stunted as you are and never faced their problems head-on.

“No, I mean, it’s fine. You were probably so busy. It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“But it did kind of matter.” 

You exhale, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay, maybe I was a little upset. But it’s not like I’m mad mad.” 

“I figured,” Jungkook says, voice soft. “And I get it if you don’t want to hang out tonight, but I still wanted to try. I know I’ve flaked twice now, but I meant what I said, about making it up to you.” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “With food?”

He smiles faintly. “With food. Amongst other things.” 

That earns a chuckle from you. You’re not over it – unfortunately – but something about the way he’s standing there, almost cautious, makes it hard to keep your walls all the way up. 

“So,” he asks gently. “Will you come?”

Taking a deep breath, you unintentionally look down at your socks. 

“Only if there’s wine…” you say softly. 

Jungkook’s smile spreads. “There’s wine.” 

You sigh and start toeing your slippers off. “If it’s terrible, I’m leaving in five minutes.” 

“I can live with that.” 

Inside Jungkook’s place, the lights are unusually dim, the apartment warm with the scent of garlic and something buttery. A jazz record plays at the far corner, and you only noticed then that Jungkook owned a vinyl player – which you kind of didn’t expect – you sort of pegged him as the type to not have time to listen to music. 

Meanwhile, he goes straight to the kitchen counter, where you watch him by the stove, plating food like a professional. You realized he had been cooking, and that’s why his tie was a little loose and his hair kind of a muss. 

You don’t really know what to say, so you try to break the silence with, “Uhm, wow.” 

Jungkook glances at you, mouth lifting at the corner. “I try sometimes.” 

The obvious faux humility makes you laugh. You know exactly that he knows you’re impressed by the whole thing. 

And you haven’t even eaten his food yet.

Walking in slowly to the dining area, your eyes skim over the table where there are real wine glasses, cloth napkins, and a lit candle.

“So what’s the occasion?” You ask, sitting on the chair, watching Jungkook as he heads towards your direction, bringing in the food he was preparing. You smile up at him. “Guilt?” 

He chuckles under his breath, and you’re almost glad that the joke lands.

“Maybe. Also I figured you deserve a proper dinner, made by me. Since someone went out of their way to make me one.”

You hum. “Can’t believe you stood me up on your own birthday.” 

He brings the plates over and sits across from you. “I cooked,” he says. “Try it before you decide if I’m forgiven.” 

You eye the food, a little surprise at how he mustered up a risotto with seared scallops, and of course perfectly plated. Like he’s just so good at everything he does… wait, did Jungkook go to culinary school? You’re starting to think that.

“You know how to make risotto?” 

“I know how to do a lot of things,” he meets her gaze.

Yeah, you know that was a hundred percent true…

You take a bite, careful not to let any expression slip while Jungkook watches closely, not really digging in on his own plate.

And as expected, the risotto’s annoyingly good. You didn’t doubt it from Jungkook, though. Being good at cooking was just one of the many qualities that made him so… so whatever. 

“Okay, fine. I’m mildly impressed,” you comment, sipping on the wine to hide the small smile tugging at your mouth. Your very expression contradicts your words, and you know Jungkook can see through you.

He leans back in his chair, obviously satisfied. “Mildly?”

“You still missed your birthday dinner. That knocks off some points.”

He gives you a small smile. “I really didn’t expect it to be a birthday dinner, baby.” 

You shrug off the nickname by having more bites of the risotto. You wonder if Jungkook was being deliberate when he said that, or if it was just going to be a thing between you now. 

“You didn’t ask… and well, I was going to surprise you.” Now you pout at the memories of last night again. “There was chicken.” 

Jungkook looks at you in surprise. “You cooked?”

You eye him. “Yeah, I scratched the tapes off the takeout boxes and put it in the microwave.” Jungkook laughs, the crinkles on the sides of his eyes showing. It makes you smile to see him like that. “Well,” you say eventually, “you’ve redeemed yourself a little.” 

Jungkook leans in again, riding along, “Only a little?” 

“We’ll see if there’s dessert.” 

Jungkook smirks, and you both continue to eat. 

After awhile, he glances at you. “You’re not mad,” he says, as if treading softly. “But… you were disappointed, right?” 

You shake your head. “No. I just—” You see Jungkook raising a brow. “I just thought it’d be nice. I don’t want to make a big deal about it, it was your birthday! Now I feel bad ‘cause it’s like I’m making this all about me.” you chuckle at the realization.

You look at Jungkook when you realize he’s not really laughing with you. 

You flinch a little when his hand reaches out to yours. His thumb caresses your knuckles as he tells you softly, “Hey, I know it would’ve been nice. I’m really sorry I missed it.” 

“It’s fine…” it’s a good thing Jungkook lets go immediately.

But you find yourself wanting to share with him that you baked him a cake too. About the lingerie… but that felt stupid now. Wait, did he even get the cake you left at his porch this morning? 

As if he read your mind, Jungkook suddenly rises up from his chair.

“Wait a second,” he walks past you, disappearing into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and comes back into view with a single slice of cake.

Your cake. The one you made for him. 

You stare. “Is that—?”

“You left it outside my door this morning,” he says, placing it on the table. You blink up at him, mouth slightly open. “I thought I’d save it, you know? In case you ever stopped pretending you didn’t care.” 

It felt a little pointed, but with the smile on his face you’re not really sure. 

“You really don’t play fair.” 

“Not trying to.” he says simply with a small smile before sitting again. 

“So. Is this your apology routine? Fancy dinner, smooth jazz, and then hoping I forget you bailed?” 

He smiles into his own glass of wine. “If I wanted you to forget, I wouldn’t have brought out the cake.”

You raise a brow. “You brought that out to make a point.” 

“I did.”

“You’re kind of smug about it.”

“I’m good at making points,” he says, “Especially when someone keeps insisting nothing’s wrong.” 

You frown, somehow not really liking the confirmation that he does think you’re making a big deal about this. 

“I said I was fine.” 

“You keep saying that,” his voice is quieter now, but a little edged. “But you’ve been smiling like it’s your job since you got here. And I know it’s not real.” 

You recoil at that, not expecting to be called out. The sudden shift of the atmosphere is palpable as you lean back on the couch. 

“What do you want me to say?” you let out a humorless chuckle. “That I was upset? You hurt my feelings?” 

Jungkook’s expression changes, but his voice doesn’t falter. “I wanna know how you feel.” 

You look away. “Do you want me to admit that maybe I cared more than I should?” 

“I didn’t say that.” 

“But you mean it.”

He leans forward, "I mean,” he starts, “that it wasn’t nothing. You made me dinner. You planned something for me. That’s not small. And I want you to know that I want to apologize when I make these mistakes.” 

You don’t really think it through when you say, “It’s not like we’re together, Jungkook.” 

That makes him pause. You can’t find it in you to take it back, because… it was true, right? The whole thing felt like… like you were a couple in a fight. And you aren’t.

“Still not an excuse.” he says after awhile. 

You let out a breath, almost a laugh, frustrated. You wish Jungkook hadn’t brought it up, and you wish you aren’t reacting the way you are right now.

“You know, you didn’t seem bothered about it when we talked on the phone.” 

“Because I thought you were okay.”

“Well, surprise,” you flash him a tight smile. “Turns out I’m not as chill as I thought.” 

His voice lowers. “I never thought you were chill.” You can’t help but glance at him sharply. “I thought you were trying really hard to seem like you didn’t care, because maybe you thought I might not care back.”

That lands harder than it should, and you feel your throat tighten.

“I should go,” you stand up, not wanting to have any more of this conversation. You wish Jungkook would just drop it. You told him, you were upset – but he’s making a big deal about it. 

Jungkook stands up too, stepping closer to you. His height looms over you, but his presence feels calm and collected. 

“You could,” he says in that deep voice. “But you won’t.” 

You take in a sharp breath when he presses until you can feel the heat of his body. You’re confused about the sudden turn of events, but there’s something about Jungkook right now, his voice dropping low, his gaze… almost as if…

“Oh?” you decide to challenge him, not wanting to waver.

“You stayed. And now you’re standing this close,” he says, gaze dropping to your mouth. “Looking like you want me to make you forget why you were upset in the first place.” 

You swallow, suddenly feeling heated in that other way. 

“A-and if I do?” 

One hand brushes past your hip, and you stand there grounded, unconsciously holding your breath. 

“Then you let me.” 

You kiss him first – not really sure why and how it happened – but you do, on instinct. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your lips to his. It’s fast, and there’s frustration from you bubbling under, heat blooming behind your ribs like a fuse finally lit. 

Jungkook kisses you back harder though, catching you on time – always catching you on time – walking you backwards into the living room where he lays you down on the couch, hovering over you.

His voice is rough against your skin when he breaks away to whisper, “Are you still upset?” 

Your hands grip his shirt. “I would be if you don’t continue kissing me.” 

That makes him smile, murmuring, “You’re a brat.” 

“Do you like it?” 

He inhales a sharp breath against your jaw, nipping. “I really do.” 

In an instant, his hands were around your waist, your back pressed against the back of the sofa. Your breath hitches when his mouth drops to your ear, making your knees weaken slightly.

“Do you– do you kiss everyone you disappoint like this?” you mutter, hands sliding under his shirt where you feel his abs clench.

“No,” he says, lips peppering kisses down your neck, voice low. It sends shivers down your spine and makes your thighs clench together. “Just the ones who microwave chicken for me.”

It earns a chuckle from you – sharp, breathless – and tug the collar of his shirt, starting to undo his buttons until sculpted chest is revealed. You’re about to pull the material off him when Jungkook catches your wrist.

“Still upset?” he asks.

You click your tongue. “Maybe.” 

He grins. “Good.” 

He kisses you again. Slow this time, like he knows you’d let him now. And you do. Your fingers dig into his shoulder as he deepens it, tongue brushing yours in a way that makes your head fog over. He tastes like wine and smugness… but you find you like it. Jungkook moves in such a way that screams he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

His shirt is off in a second, leaving him in his slacks and belt, mouth moving lower over your throat, your collarbone, until they reach your cleavage made easily accessible with the neckline of your camisole. You arch into the touch without much thinking, and when Jungkook whispers against the peak of your nipple if he could take your shirt off, you nod. 

“Sorry, this isn’t my proudest bra ever,” you tell him, fingers slipping through his hair. 

Jungkook chuckles. “I’m gonna take it off, anyway.” 

He lifts you up effortlessly, squeezing your ass as you yelp but helping you wrap your legs around his waist. Before you can say anything, he shuts up with a searing hot kiss, and you let him carry you to the bedroom with ginger steps, like he’d done it a hundred times before in his head. God, you hope he did just like you do. 

You don’t know how exactly it happened but your bra is off the moment he lowers you down on the bed, tugging the cups off your chest and letting his hand take reign on one boob while he licks the other one with his hot tongue, swirling it around your nipple that makes you gasp and shift on the bed. 

“Oh, Jungkook…”

Crawling over you, you meet his heavy gaze as he asks, “Are you sure about this?” 

If the heat in between your thighs is any more indication of how sure you are, he can check. But you tug him down by the waistband of his slacks to tell him, “I’ve been sure.” 

“Just checking, because once we start…” he murmurs, gaze dropping on your lips. As if he can’t help it, he closes his mouth around yours. Then his hand slides down, feathery touch causing goosebumps all over your skin. It stops on your inner thigh where you take a sharp breath because he was so close to where you wanted him to be. 

“I want you now,” you say, a bit irritated. 

He chuckles, dark. Low. He retracts his hand and smirks when you give him a glare. 

“I wanna take my time with you, sweetheart. Don’t rush me.” 

To prove his point, he kisses you again – hot and passionate, but also aguishly slow like he’s savoring every brush of your tongue and he has all the time in the world for it. 

You’re flushed beneath him, breathless as his hands wander all over your body. He nips the skin of your neck, obviously teasing, leaving goosebumps on his trail. When his hand cups the heat in between your legs, your hips unconsciously buck, your grip on his shoulders tightening at the contact. 

“I should’ve come to dinner,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“Y-yeah,” you manage, “you should’ve.” 

“I can’t believe I missed this yesterday.”

You gasp when his thumb presses on your mound, feeling like you’ve been electrocuted by the touch. Jungkook seems to take note of your oversensitivity, as he watches you with your mouth hanging slightly open.  

“Don’t worry, baby. I plan to make it up to you real good,” he leans back for a second to tug the waistband of your pants, and you don’t hesitate to lift yourself up a little to help him slide it off your legs together with your panties. You bite your bottom lip as you observe him watching the way the material clings to your pussy at the slickness. A smirk tugs at his lips. “I guess I’ve made you wait too long, didn’t I?” 

Your reply dissolves into a sharp inhale as he puts two of his fingers in his mouth and wedges them in between your folds, leaning down to plant a kiss on your parted mouth. His fingers move inside you, curling in slow rhythm, his thumb teasing just enough to keep your hips lifting off the bed.

“You’re so soaked, and I haven’t even touched you properly yet,” he slowly slides them out, smirking when you whimper at the loss of contact. He inserts them again, this time taking on a steady pace. His fingers make you feel so full, just like they did back at the motel – and you wouldn’t dare lie to yourself and say you haven’t been looking forward to this again. By the way you can’t keep the soft moans escaping past your lips, Jungkook must’ve known too. 

Slick sounds bounce off the wall, and you try to keep it to a minimum by minimizing your moans and pressing the back of your hand to your mouth but Jungkook catches your wrist quickly, as if he knew what you were about to do.

“No, baby, let me hear you,” he says, pinning your hand up against the headboard. “I want to know how much you want this, how much you like my fingers fitting right in your pussy,” he looks down, then unexpectedly, he brings his soaked digits up to your face. Your cheeks flush in embarrassment when you see how wet they are with your juices, whimpering when he inserts them in his mouth with no second thoughts, licking them obscenely. You whimper when he shuts his eyes close, looking intoxicated. 

“Shit,” he hisses, “Tastes just as good as I remember it.” 

“J-jungkook,” you whine, wanting him to do something already. 

“I know,” he smirks, a little smug. “Should I go faster? Is that what you like?” 

“Please…” you cry out, holding on to his wrist.

He chuckles darkly and just as when you were about to say something else again, he curls the same fingers in you, but this time he plunges them in and out at a faster pace. At that, you don’t hold back the moans you’ve been keeping trapped in your throat. 

Legs tensing, Jungkook continues to fuck you with his fingers, moving like an expert; determined to make you fall apart – and you’re nothing but soft cries, heated, fingers tightening around his wrist as your orgasm creeps up your toes to your spine. 

“F-fuck…” you sigh when Jungkook dives in your chest again, nipping and sucking at the flesh you were sure he was going to leave marks. “Feels so good, Koo…” 

He hums against your skin, curling his fingers and digging in deep that your thighs shake uncontrollably. But Jungkook’s hold on your hip is firm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from thrashing underneath him at the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Yeah? You’re making such a mess on my hand, baby,” he husks out.

“S-sorry.”

He chuckles. “You’re beautiful,” He breaks away from your tits to stare at you. Moving away some of the hair that has gotten on your face, he says, “Are you close?” 

“Yes, god, yes. Please, I’m so close…” 

You can feel yourself about to reach your climax, so you move your hand to seek relief to your clit. But Jungkook catches you off-guard when he moves further down your body. You let out a lewd moan when he licks along your slit, sucking in your folds – your juices making a wet, spongy sound as he slurps. When he closes his mouth around your clit, you cry out and grab his hair quite harshly. 

But Jungkook only hums against your pussy, the vibration only making you drip more. He ravishes your nub with his tongue, quick and steady, and so are his fingers in and out of your pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you moan, body convulsing at your impending orgasm, shutting your eyes close and focusing on the way his tongue tugs at your clit. “Kook, I’m coming, fuck, I’m gonna cum—” 

He pulls off with a smack only to tell you “in my mouth” before going back to business again. You listen to his small grunts, his hums, and until then, you feel your body spasming when the coil at your stomach breaks.  

Jungkook puts his hand on your lower stomach, pressing you down as you wriggle underneath him, thighs shaking at your orgasm. He licks until you’re pulling his head out of your mound. He takes his fingers out of your spongy walls, spreading your wetness instead around your folds, as if calming you down from your high.

“Good, baby, good…” he murmurs, gripping your thighs to steady you. Then he leans down and presses kisses over them.

You let your back relax on the mattress, shutting your eyes close and catching your breath.

You hear a drawer pull open, and when you finally open your eyes, you see Jungkook with a condom pinched in between his fingers.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Jungkook skates his fingers through his hair, and you suddenly got the urge to jump him right then and there when you saw the sheer wetness on his jaw, his sculpted chest and the abdominal muscles that sit perfectly on his stomach, his tattoo sleeve – he looked like an absolute dream then, but you knew you were in for a ride when your eyes cast a look at the erection inside his slacks. Jungkook makes quick work of unbuckling his leather belt, and the way the metal clink with each other scratches a part of your brain that screams want, want, want and maybe Jungkook caught on, because he follows your gaze to the belt, clicking his tongue when he throws the leather away somewhere on the floor.

“Next time, sweet girl,” he says, sounding like he meant it. You can feel your cheeks heating under his gaze and the implication of his words, chest pounding as he unbuttons and unzips his pants together with his boxers. 

“I…” You watch in quiet fascination when his rock hard dick slaps against his lower abdomen, biting your lip at the sight. It was just as long and girthy as you remember it.

He hums. “You want to play next time, we’ll do that. But eyes up here first,” Jungkook instructs, and you do look at him when he says so, feeling your legs clamping together at his slightly commanding tone. He tugs your legs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, and so you lift off the mattress slightly and rest your elbows against the soft sheets. Jungkook smiles at you as he kneels between your spread legs, “You look beautiful like this, baby. Do you know how much I’ve been wanting to do this?” he asks as he rips open the condom, pinching the tip and putting it over his cock in quick succession. 

“I’ve been waiting for you…” you say, not really sure what you mean, touching his chest because you can. He’s so warm and so big, and your pussy aches at the thought of him finally entering you.

It felt greedy, to want to cum again when you just did not even a full minute ago.

“I know,” he strokes his cock for good measure, and you let out a soft gasp when he hikes your leg over his hip, nudging your other leg to the side. He inserts a finger in your pussy, hissing at your wetness. “Fuck, you are soaked, baby…” 

“Put it in,” You whine, chest heaving up and down as you watch Jungkook with half-lidded eyes. His hand wraps around his dick, strokes it for a moment before gripping near the tip and bringing it closer to your aching heat. 

You moan when the first inch of his cock goes in, mouth gaping at the intrusion. Jungkook’s eyebrows knit as he adjusts your leg higher on his hip, pushing deeper. 

“Look at me,” he instructs, “You can take it, right, baby? You’re so wet, so pretty…” 

“I– yes, yes– shit,” you let out a shaky breath, “you’re s-so big, fuck,”

“You’re taking it so well,” he murmurs, voice low and dripping with honey. He gives a gentle, almost subtle thrust that almost knocks you out of the bed.

“Yes, yes, fuck… give it to me, Kook, I want you so bad…”

“Yeah? I’m gonna move in a sec, angel, play with your tits for me.”

You nod your head and do as told, letting your hands wander all over your body before fondling your breasts, moaning instantly at the pleasure. 

“Tell me if it hurts,” is what he says before he slips an arm beneath your waist, holding you up, a shudder escaping past his lips when he slowly pushes more past your tight walls. You choke out a moan, a broken sob coming out of it when he finally bottoms out inside of you.

“Ah…” 

He hisses, fingers digging at your waist as he withdraws from your heat and only the tip of his cock is in you, the scene with it sitting on your soaked pussy enough to send him into an overdrive. 

“You’re so fucking tight holy fuck,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips back into you and finally picking up a pace that makes you whimper and cry out pathetic little moans, mind becoming fuzzy at the thrusts of his cock in your entrance. 

Your walls clench at the glide of his cock against you, feeling him falter at the little stunt. But you can’t help it. Your body is on fire as Jungkook lets out a guttural groan, pulling you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his dick are tickling your skin. Your elbow shake as it loses balance, but Jungkook is quick to catch you just on time, leaning down to hover over your body, but it only makes the angle of his fuck deeper, and maybe he meant to do that too. 

Your hands are quick to wrap around his shoulders as you feel the tip of his cock prodding against your cervix like he’s going all out, your hips jumping as he rams back inside. 

He repeats the movement like a graceful dancer, thrusts deep and purposeful, pulling out wailing sounds from you you begin to worry if the neighbors could hear. He tucks his head against your neck and presses a kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips into you, pistoning into your squelching heat. His body is so close, so warm, sweaty skin gliding against yours.

“Fuck, fucking hell, baby – fuck, you feel so good,” Jungkook growls, finding your mouth and kissing you again. His hips snaps back into you once again, and you both swallow each other’s moans at the contact, letting your bodies rock to the sound of your fucking. His hand is on your chest immediately, squeezing everywhere until it settles on pinching your nipple between his fingers. 

“Jungkook– ah, baby— fuckkkkk,” You shudder, feeling your pussy quiver at every snap and every withdrawal, and when he brings his hand to your clit and rubs it in quick circles, you screw your eyes shut, feeling that familiar wave again for the second time that night. 

“Jungkook–” 

“You’re gonna be a good girl and come for me, sweet girl?” Jungkook rasps out, sweaty forehead coming into view as he jackhammers into your pussy with ease, welcomed by your never-ending slick. You never thought you’d see Jungkook like that, fucking like a crazed caveman, looking like he can’t get enough but also straining himself a bit to not hurt you – because of course he wouldn’t. 

“Fuck me harder, Kook, I need it– need you to… need you to—”

“Yeah?” he rocks harder, faster just like you said, and you can honestly start to feel the slight pain on your chest as they bounce at the speed, your hand flying to grab at your chest. 

“I’m so close,” you cry out, unconsciously reaching for him and feeling like you’re on edge. Jungkook takes your hand and encloses it around his, thrusting into you once again before whispering against your skin to let go. 

As if that was a magic phrase, you feel something inside you snap. 

“Good girl, I knew you’d come for me, you always do,” Jungkook slurs. You could feel your cum dribbling out of your pussy, creaming his cock, but Jungkook continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your spasming hole, grunting against your skin, mouth leaving random, open-mouthed kisses. 

He drills on, and his cock still feels so achingly hard, seemingly not anywhere near completion yet. You’re nearly mush beneath him from your current release, but you push through it as you press your hands to his chest, forceful enough to send him tumbling a little. He’s caught off-guard by that, and you take that to your advantage as you maneuver yourself to push him completely on his back, his cock sliding out of you. 

He bounces off the mattress a little, looking at you curiously as you straddle his waist. Your sensitive pussy shudders at the cold of the AC in his room, and you feel like your bones have been liquefied, but you don’t let that deter you from taking ahold of his still, indeed, hard cock and sitting on it. 

Jungkook inhales a sharp breath as he watches you bounce on his cock, the head disappearing and appearing in your entrance, like a show he would want to replay over and over again. And you’re determined, stretching your body and leaning back to rest your palms on his thighs for support as you take his dick, switching to a back and forth motion.

“Oh, Jungkook, god – oh my god,” and although it was supposed to be for him – for him to cum – you can honestly feel yourself about to snap again, especially when Jungkook reaches forward to rub your tit, caressing your tattoo underneath with that hungry look in his eyes, and settling on your hips like he’s enjoying the little show you’re putting up for him. 

“That’s it baby, bounce on my cock – you’re doing so we…ll,” he encourages, but there’s a slight break to his tone at the end. “Shit, keep going – fuck. I’m so fucking close– you look so good,” 

You swallow the saliva trapped in your throat to pick up your pace, feeling lightheaded at the overwhelming feeling of his cock prodding against your cervix everytime you go forth. His dick brushes past your clit everytime you move, and you throw your head back when you feel him starting to thrust upward. 

“Are you close again, baby?” Jungkook asks, gripping your hips tight as he meets your ministration. You bite your lip at the question, only whimpering when Jungkook bucks his hips harshly. “Cum for me a third time, pretty girl. Cum with me.” 

“Jungkook, I can’t, I’m so sensitive. I–”

“You can, angel. And you will.”

You mewl when Jungkook reaches for your pussy with his other hand, quickly finding your clit to rub against it again, and that pushes you to the edge quickly – orgasm snapping on an instant just like that. 

Jungkook’s hips stutter, breath caught in between a curse and your name, like the sound of you undid him completely. It was a sound that you heard three days ago when he came in your mouth.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses, hips faltering at his orgasm. “Shit…” 

You drop your body unceremoniously onto him, the exhaustion hitting you all at once.

Wrapping his hands around your body very gently, you feel Jungkook kissing the side of your head, making you shut your eyes close. 

“Jesus.” you blurt out, whole body spent.

“Didn’t know you were religious like that…” He says with a chuckle, caressing your hair mindlessly.

You snap your head quickly to look at him at the familiar words, narrowing your eyes. Jungkook only presses a kiss to your shoulder as if that was some sort of apology, and you let it go with a playful shake of your head.

“Do you still feel bad about missing dinner?” You ask with a smile on your face. 

He let out a low laugh, and the vibration through his chest feels warm against your skin. 

“I’m working on making it up to you.” 

“Does it really involve making me cum three times in a single night?” you arch your brow. “I think you’re overcompensating.” 

Jungkoo gives you a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe.”

And before you can say anything, he flips you over and kisses you again, which makes you giggle into his mouth.  

all right reserved © awrkive, 2025. no reposts, modification, translations, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[dollkuna]

the digest. clingy bf sukuna who can't stand when you go out without him :(

sukuna has a hard time taking no for an answer. so, when you told him your saturday date would have to be rescheduled, he wasn't exactly thrilled.

in fact, for the entire week leading up to it, he completely dismissed the idea, acting as if there was no universe in which you wouldn't be going out with him.

"are you wearing the black dress for dinner?" he’d asked, just a couple of days before, his voice a low rumble beside you. it was as if you hadn't already clearly laid out your actual plans. "you look nice in the black dress."

"i am wearing the black dress, actually," you hummed back, flipping to the next page of your novel. he was snuggled beside you under the warm sheets, comfortable and completely oblivious. "not for dinner, though. for the party. the one i'm going to. like i said."

in response, you’d gotten an grunt, which you’d taken as acceptance, or at least acknowledgement. that's why it struck you as so utterly odd, how completely shell-shocked he looked on said saturday, watching you get ready for an event that clearly wasn't a date.

"ryo," you sighed, seeing the storm brewing in his golden eyes. "relax." no, you weren’t betraying him, as sukuna so dramatically put it; you were just heading to a friend’s birthday party. "i really can't not go. it's a birthday. it only happens, you know, once a year. we can absolutely go tomorrow."

he narrowed his brows at you, arms crossed over his chest like a petulant child. "relax? this is treason."

as you carefully put in your delicate earrings, you shot him a quick glance. "jesus, baby. i'll be back before you even know i'm gone."

for a brief second, a flicker of hope crossed sukuna's face. "and… i can't come?" your boyfriend looked absolutely adorable, pouting like that. you didn't dare point it out, though, not wanting to risk dampening his already fragile mood any further.

instead, you reached out and gently pinched his cheek, and he responded with a playful nip at your finger. "no, i'm sorry. it's really just a girls' thing."

"you won't even know i'm there," he insisted, his voice surprisingly earnest.

you couldn't help but laugh softly, tilting your head at him. "you're a 6'5, pink-haired man, dude. i think i'll know."

"don't call me that. and you don't love me," he muttered, turning his head away dramatically.

just then, your phone buzzed, and you knew without looking it was your friend. a quick honk from outside confirmed it – your ride was here, and you needed to leave. "don't be like that. you know i do."

"then stay." his voice was firm, unyielding.

"no."

"i knew it," he declared, a hint of self-pity in his tone.

"stop. okay, fine," you huffed, walking over to where he was still seated on the edge of the bed. you stepped between his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. "i'll be back thirty minutes early."

his expression didn't change one bit. "stay."

"one hour early," you tried, chewing on your bottom lip, hoping to appeal to his logical side.

"stay."

throwing him a look, you squinted at sukuna. "do you even know how bargaining works?"

"stay." sukuna's poker face held as steady as ever, completely unbreakable.

you ran your fingers through his soft, spiky hair, a heavy, weary breath escaping you. "alright, fine. two hours early, and we can cuddle and watch movies after."

he paused, a tiny flicker in his eyes, like he was genuinely considering this new offer. then, he shook his head slowly. "stay."

your shoulders slumped, and you let out a long, theatrical groan. "you can pick the movie."

"deal." he'd won, and he knew it, a smug, triumphant look spreading across his face.

either way, you ended up coming home three hours early.

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - off the record (part six)

part six ; room 1247

warnings ; none!!

prompt ; in which you’re paired with your insufferably charming ex-academic rival turned coworker to cover a congressional scandal, and suddenly, professional boundaries becomes the only thing holding you two apart.

note ; fun fact i wrote the second scene half-drunk and i actually think it turned out really well so shoutout to sauvy b for always holding it down! i hope you all enjoyed your fun one week break from these two idiots <3 i have returned with my favorite microtrope of all time, and we are FINALLY getting to this new york city trip. this trip is THEE trip. if this were a movie, you would be throwing your damn popcorn at the screen, yelling "HE LOVES YOU, YOU BIG IDIOT." but this is a tumblr fanfic, so nothing of the sort will occur. new york city holds nostalgia for them. memories of their past. some deep shit like that. but realistically it's kinda like when you pass by a place you used to go to a lot as a kid and you're like oh. oh. i remember this feeling. i liked this feeling. let me stop before i spoil my own stupid ass fic! i hope you cutie patooties enjoy (and before anyone asks, those extras are on the way i SWEAR. they are pivotal to the story and will come in due time) and as always, big big love to @httpsincity for being the best beta reader of all time (and if you🫵 are interested in being one too, hit my dm's! no experience required but you must love reading and analyzing every little crumb)

series masterlist here

playlist here

There’s this rollercoaster called the Cyclone at Luna Park in Coney Island. You rode it for the first time when you were eleven, clutching the safety bar with a stomach full of cotton candy and your heart thudding against the walls of your ribs.

You remember going up, up, up, and then looking out at the view at the top; your dad’s beat-up Honda Civic in the parking lot, food stalls selling funnel cakes and fried oreos, the tide of the ocean receding. 

You don’t really remember the down, down, down part. Your brain apparently decided that the sheer terror of hurtling towards earth at sixty miles per hour wasn't worth remembering. All that stuck was the high of being on top of the world for more than three seconds. 

That’s exactly what it feels like when Jenna texts you bright and early Thursday morning. “Morning, [Y/N]! This trip is important. Very senior correspondent vibes. Enjoy New York - promotion update when you get back!!”

The exclamation points feel like confetti, like when someone texts you ‘congrats!’ and your phone immediately showers you in unwarranted iMessage effects. 

Senior correspondent vibes. 

You stare at the screen, grinning like an idiot, as reality comes knocking in the form of another notification. Your Uber driver, asking where the hell you are because you’ve been standing on your sidewalk for the past three minutes, clutching your phone to your chest gleefully. 

I have a lot to be thankful for, you remind yourself as you get your legs working and head towards the red Sedan. For starters, Mark’s itinerary arrived yesterday and either Monroe's team is absolutely loaded (likely) or they’re dead set on treating you like royalty, because you’re staying at the Hilton in Times Square. You’re talking about the actual Hilton, with real room service and those little bottles of shampoo you’ll be stealing, not some sad little motel in Queens. 

You also dragged Emma out for drinks last night and made her relive every painful second of Friday night’s events. She spent most of the time doing impersonations of Paul trying to be suave, and you laughed so hard you snorted vodka, which only made her do it again. 

And because the universe decidedly doesn’t hate you after all, you’ve barely interacted with Jungkook this week. From what you heard through the grapevine, Fox has him chasing down some diplomatic crisis in Paris, so he’s been buried under deadlines and time zones. 

Zero opportunities for you to think about his smell, his cheek scar, those ballpoint pens he seems to like so much, or his absolutely criminal way of complimenting women.

Everything is blissfully back on track. 

Or, well, it would be. If your Uber was dropping you off at some solo spa retreat instead of Union Station, where you’re about to break your beautiful Jungkook-free streak.

The sudden urge to find a spoon and scoop your eyeballs out like ice cream creeps up on you. 

Pulling out your phone, you fire back a quick response to Jenna: “Thanks, Jenna! I’ll make CNN proud this weekend.”

A little strategic ass-kissing never hurt anyone’s promotion chances. 

Once the Uber finally pulls up to the station, you wrestle your overpacked bag out of the backseat (why did you bring three different blazers for a weekend trip?), tip the driver in cash because you’ve never been convinced those app tips aren’t disappearing into some void, and trudge toward the Greyhound bus. 

From the outside, the bus seems mercifully empty. Monroe’s team booked you on an early morning bus to give you time to check into the hotel and mentally prepare for her press conference. The bus driver — an older man who tips his baseball cap at you — settles your nerves a little. You clamber onto the vehicle with little to no grace. 

Window seat, window seat, window se…

You practically catapult your body toward the back of the bus, snatching up the last available window spot. Turns out half of America decided to head to New York at 5 AM on a Thursday. 

Perfect. You plop your bag on the seat next to you like an animal marking its territory and jam your AirPods in. Spotify on immediate shuffle. There will be no stragglers, no chatty commuters taking that seat. 

This is your time to stare dramatically at the passing trees and pretend you’re in an indie film. 

This press conference is kind of a big deal, you’ve figured out that much. Half your week was spent with Jenna, brainstorming questions and predicting angles that Delgado and his team might spin. 

You’re planning to stay unbiased, obviously. Journalistic integrity and all that. But… you’ve also started to like Monroe a little bit. 

On Wednesday, when you sent her a draft paragraph for approval, she emailed back “Looks good :)” instead of “Fine.” The smiley face is a victory. 

You’ve also reached this simple scientific conclusion after spending time with her: men are at the root of all evil. Men put you into scandals. Men plaster your face on the cover of the New York Times. Men are just—

Your current song gets cut short. Left AirPod violently ripped out of your ear. What the fuck? 

Your head whips in the direction of the thief, ready to commit murder, and find yourself staring at Jungkook. He’s standing in the aisle wearing a Columbia sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, hair disheveled, holding your white airpod between his fingers like some audio pirate. 

“I said your name like, forty times. Is this seat taken?”

“Yes,” you hiss, snatching your earbud back. “It’s taken by my bag.”

To emphasize your point, you pat your bag possessively and give him your most sinister smile. He grins back and starts sliding his backpack off his shoulder.  “Jeon, don’t even think about it—”

“[Y/N].” He gestures at the packed bus around you. When you take a quick inventory, you don’t think there’s a single seat open. “This whole bus is packed. There’s not a single seat left. What am I supposed to do, sit on the floor?”

Your eyes light up. “Oh my god, can you?”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I am literally not moving my bag for you.”

“Well,” he starts, and before you can stop him, he’s moving your bag to the floor and sliding into the seat beside you like he owns the place. “I just moved it for you.”

You audibly gasp. “Go ask someone to switch with you. Right now.” 

“Oh, what?” He has the nerve to look amused. “Now we can’t sit next to each other?”  

“Correct. We cannot.” You cross your arms over your chest and pout. 

“You seemed to like it just fine last—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll hire an Etsy witch to curse your bloodline,” you interrupt, because clearly you liked a lot of questionable things last week. You also thought Red Bull tasted better than your usual Celsius, so maybe you were having some kind of out-of-body experience. Maybe you got Freaky Friday-ed.

“All I’m saying is we got along pretty well last week.” He shrugs casually. 

You’ve been actively trying not to think about that, thank you very much.  After extensive self-reflection (and a mild spiral), you’ve determined that your weird little dance-and-compliment session with Jungkook can be blamed entirely on three things: wine, lemon drop shots, and vodka sodas. It was a perfectly normal human reaction to alcohol poisoning. 

The bus rumbles to life beneath you, and your left eye starts twitching. You’re trapped. This death trap on wheels is hauling you to New York whether you like your seatmate or not.

“Last week was a fluke.” You stare out the window, fidgeting with your rescued AirPod.

“Didn’t I tell you I like it when you’re nice to me?” he teases. 

“I break out in hives if I do it for too long.” In fact, you’re breaking into them right now. 

“Well, I like it.” You don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smiling cheek-to-cheek.

“I could give a rat’s ass about what you like,” you remind him. 

“Mhm,” he hums, sounding annoyingly pleased with himself. He leans down and pulls his laptop out of his backpack. Finally, you think to yourself. He’ll leave you alone to brood in peace. 

You’re halfway to putting your AirPod back in when he goes, “So what are you planning on asking at the press conference?” 

You turn to glare at him. His eyes are particularly brown this morning, all lit up by the sunshine bleeding through the window, and they’re twinkling with mischief. “Oh, so you can steal my questions? Absolutely not.”

“I’ve got my own questions to ask.”

“Puh-lease.” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “And you think they’ll be better than mine?”

“I never said that.” He opens his laptop and starts typing in his password, and you immediately look away because you are not some kind of creep who memorizes people’s credentials. Even though your peripheral vision definitely caught what looked like numbers and maybe the word ’banana’? “I know yours will be good.”

“Compliment session expired, buddy. You’re not getting one back.”

“Not expecting one.” The laptop screen illuminates his face as he logs in. “I just think we should be working on this as a team. Technically, we’re on Monroe’s side.”

That, and you’re rooting for whatever gets you promoted. 

“We’re not supposed to be on anyone’s side, Jungkook,” you sigh, because evidently you now need to explain basic journalism ethics. Did this dude actually graduate in your class at Columbia?

“I know that, dweeb.” He rolls his eyes. “But I feel kinda bad for her. Delgado seems like a dick.”

“How so?” You don’t necessarily disagree, but you’re curious where he’s going with this. 

“I mean, he basically threw her under the bus, right?” His fingers hover over the keyboard. “If he actually liked her, he would’ve backed her in this whole scandal. Now he’s addicted to bringing her down during every press conference.”

You snort. “Welcome to men in politics. Population: disappointing.”

“Not all men.” 

You have to physically bite your tongue to keep from cackling. “Oh, right. Because you're a saint. A shining beacon of male virtue. All hail Jungkook, our feminist king."

"I'm just saying—"

"What, that you'd handle it differently?" You turn in your seat to face him fully, because this should be entertaining. "Please, enlighten me. How would saint Jungkook navigate a political sex scandal?"

“For starters, I wouldn’t be in one.” He opens Google Docs and starts scrolling through his documents. There’s one titled ‘DELGADO IS A TOOL: AN ANALYSIS.’ “I wouldn’t put someone I actually cared about through that kind of mess.”

“That’s… actually sweet.” You pause, squirming in your seat at what you’re about to admit. “Disgusting, but sweet.”

“It’s the truth.” He glances back at you. “So, yeah, excuse me for wanting her to win this thing.” 

“No, I.. I guess I get it. She does seem pretty beaten down by all this,” you agree. 

She reminds you of yourself, honestly. The whole putting-on-a-brave-face thing, hiding behind whatever armor you can find because it's easier than admitting you completely misread someone. That you trusted the wrong person. Monroe doesn't deserve to be dragged through the mud like this. No woman does.

“Hand me my laptop.”

God, your moral compass is a real pain in the ass sometimes.

“What, why?” Jungkook scoots away from you. “Are you gonna whack me with it?” 

“No, you moron.” You point toward your bag.  “I’ll share some of my questions with you. In the name of Monroe, of course.”

“Really?” His mouth does this upward quirk thing that should not be as distracting as it is. He leans down to unzip your bag, rummaging around for your laptop. 

“Don’t get cocky on me,” you warn as he hands it over. For maybe half a heartbeat, his fingers brush against yours as you both hold the laptop. His hands are warmer than you expected, and there’s a tiny callus on his thumb you can feel with your own. 

He looks up at you. Little golden flecks in his eyes appear that you've somehow never noticed before.

You yank your hands back and hug the laptop to your chest before bringing it down to your lap. Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly, adjusting his shoulders. Apparently you both are acting like 12-year olds now. 

When you finally boot up your own Google Docs, the difference between your approach and Jungkook’s is staggering. While his document appears to be a mess of bullet points and random thoughts scattered across multiple tabs, yours is an organized masterpiece called "Monroe-Delgado Case File" with color-coded sections, chronological timelines, and cross-referenced evidence. Sometimes it genuinely baffles you that this is the same man you've been calling your archnemesis since freshman year of college. 

“So, here's my strategy.” You pull up your questions document, which is obviously also color-coded. “I’m thinking I'll ease in, maybe ask some questions about her work ethic these past few months. Prove that she’s someone without him, establish her credibility.” 

You scroll down to your yellow-highlighted section. “Then I’ll ask how they got involved. Professional, personal? Who made the first move?”

Jungkook makes a sound of understanding. “And that’s where we let her paint him as the villain.”

“Not quite,” You peer up from your screen. “If I’m too obvious about leading her, they’re gonna know my stance. I want to extract from her the worst parts of him without actually trying, you know? I'll ask something like 'Can you walk us through a typical conversation you'd have about policy?' Let her own answers expose his ass.”

As your eyes tilt up to meet his, you realize Jungkook is staring at you. Your stomach decides to audition for Cirque du Soleil. Obviously that’s just motion sickness from the bus. 

His eyebrows are raised, cherry lips parted. A softness behind his orbs you haven’t seen in all your years of knowing him. 

It’s either complete bewilderment or… no, it’s definitely bewilderment. What else could it be?

You wave a hand in front of his face. “Earth to Jungkook. Thoughts? Concerns?” 

His lips split into a grin, cheeks reddening. “You, [Y/N] [Y/L/N], are a mastermind.”

A horrible flutter floats through your stomach that you want to set on fire. Since when does Jungkook recognizing your intelligence make your insides feel like a butterfly habitat? 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“If someone told me last year that you were gonna voluntarily share state secrets with me on a Greyhound bus, I would've recommended they get a psychiatric evaluation.” He smiles at his own joke, and honestly, fair point. 

“Straight to the looney bin,” you agree, snorting. “Alright, so what about you? What’s your master plan?”

You’re not expecting much, but curiosity killed the cat and all that jazz. 

His eyes dart around the bus like he’s looking for an escape route, lingering on the trees whizzing past the window. He tilts his laptop screen away from you as if he’s a five-year-old hiding a bad report card. “Uhhh..” 

Oh, hell no. 

“Jeon, I swear to god, show me right now. “ You lunge for his laptop, trying to wrestle it towards you, but all those years of whatever sport he was playing in college actually paid off.

“It’s just… not fully fleshed out yet.” His cheeks are still crimson, bottom lip tucked in between his top teeth. 

“And?” 

He lets out a defeated sigh. “My research strategy is pretty much 'throw spaghetti at the wall and see what sticks.' I've got a note here that just says 'Delgado equals suspicious eyebrows' with no context whatsoever.”

You burst out laughing — like, actually doubled over, embarrassing snort giggles escaping before you can stop them. It’s the most Jungkook thing you’ve ever heard, so exactly what you should have expected. He’s always been like this; flying by the seat of his pants and landing on his feet everytime. You’ll never admit it to yourself fully, but you’re a bit jealous of how effortlessly brilliant he is. Intelligence just flows through him instead of requiring the blood, sweat, and tears you have to muster up. 

You also don’t notice Jungkook going completely still, completely transfixed on you as you laugh. 

“How does anyone over at Fox let you get away with this?” You finally manage between giggles.

“Mm, I’ll have you know my devastating good looks more than make up for my other shortcomings.” Jungkook attempts what might be a wink but looks like he’s having some kind of facial spasm.

That sends you into another round of giggles. “Let’s pump the brakes on that ego, Romeo.” 

“Fine, fine. It’s obviously my big brain that carries me, duh.” He taps his temple twice, a ridiculously large grin on his face. 

"Right, that famous brain of yours." You're still grinning, and without thinking, you reach over and pat his broad shoulder. "The same brain that once showed up to Professor Chen's final with notes written on a coffee shop napkin."

"That napkin had very valuable information on it!"

"It had a grocery list, Jungkook. I literally remember 'buy milk' being highlighted in yellow."

“Okay, and who still got the only A+ in class?” He crosses his arms over his chest petulantly. 

You squint at him. The little fucker. You’d almost managed to forget about the Great A+ Debacle of Professor Chen’s course. You marched right up to Chen after class and demanded to know why your meticulously researched paper only earned an A while Jungkook’s napkin-note got the A+. His response was, and you quote, “Mr. Jeon’s analysis simply wowed me.” 

Wowed. As if Jungkook was some kind of magician instead of a guy who studied for the final on the bus ride to campus. 

"Don't." You hold up a warning finger. "Don't you dare get smug about that."

"Too late." His grin is insufferable. "Already feeling pretty smug."

“I spent three weeks studying. Three whole ass weeks of research. And you probably studied the night before.”

“Two nights before, actually. I’m not a complete animal.”

You want to throw something at him, but all you have is your laptop and that seems counterproductive. “I hate you so much.”

“Do you?"

“I really, really do, Jeon.” 

“No, you just hate that I’m right.” His pearly white teeth are still on display, but a look of uncertainty flashes across his features briefly. “I swear, sometimes I think you believe I took this job just to spite you.”

The accusation hangs in the air. What the hell? Where did that come from? You blink at him, completely thrown by whatever weird turn this conversation just took. 

“I didn’t,” he continues just as you open your mouth to respond, “but it’s okay.”

“So then why did you?” The question is tumbling out of you before you can catch it, and suddenly you know you’re not talking about Professor Chen anymore. “Why did you have to follow me to the one place.. the one thing you knew I wanted more than anything?”

His jaw tightens. “Is it hard to believe that my dreams could’ve been the same as yours? That I also wanted to work in the White House? That despite my family name, I wanted to make something of myself?” 

And when he puts it like that, you sound like the most egotistical, narcissistic bitch of all time. 

“I’m sorr—”

“It’s fine.” His voice suggests it’s very much not fine. 

You study his profile as he stares behind you, past your face, out the window. There’s that scar on his cheek you keep wondering about. He has small silver hoops in both ears, ones that you want to come up with a joke for, but it never actually leaves your tongue. There’s also some perfectly placed mole just under his bottom lip. He has a lot of moles actually, some that you ponder what it’s like to trace as if they were destinations on a map with your finger. 

He is really pretty. You’ll give him that much. 

“So… you took the job to prove you could be more than just some rich kid with connections?”

“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, he meets your eyes. "That, and... because I knew you'd be here. And I guess a small part of me wants to follow you everywhere you go."

You stare blankly at him.  There are approximately 1,586 different thoughts ricocheting around your brain right now, most of which you're mashing so far down they'll probably fossilize before you ever have to deal with them. You have to remind yourself they’re just words, just pretty words he probably read in a book and decided to test-drive on you for shits and giggles.

Because this is Jungkook.  The dude from college who once wore a Hawaiian shirt to your Political Theory class specifically because you'd mentioned in passing that you found them aesthetically offensive, the dude who waited outside your classes just to inform you about whatever A+ he'd gotten that week, the dude who lurks in the hallway for you after every press briefi…

Oh, crap. 

Shit. 

He really has been everywhere, hasn't he? He’s invaded every part of your life. Since freshman year. 

There’s nothing left for you to do but deflect. Start running so fast in the other direction like a chicken with its head cut off. “So, you’re admitting you’re my stalker? Is that on the record?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, [Y/N]. If that’s what you wanna call it. Then yes, I’m your stalker.”

“Great. I’ll personally deliver the restraining order papers to your home.” You close your laptop. It’s painfully obvious that no actual work is happening here. You also don’t think you would be able to work if you tried. Not with him sitting so close to you, spewing confessions like they’re Halloween candy. 

“You’d have to find my address first.” He sticks his tongue out at you humorously. 

“That won’t be hard. I bet you live in one of those high-rises with a doorman named Gerald who knows everyone’s coffee order.”

Back at Columbia, you may have heard whispers. Something about his family having serious money, like a trust fund and summer house in the Hamptons type money. You never paid much attention to campus gossip, but it was hard to ignore. 

“His name is Frank, actually, and he prefers espresso.”

You gape at him. “I was kidding, but of course you actually— never mind. The point is, you’re a terrible stalker because you’re being way too obvious about it.”

“Am I?” 

“Jungkook.” Your tone is so stern he slumps into the seat. “Stop stalking me.”

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right?” 

You're trying not to laugh, but honestly, he's such an idiot. "You never even apologized for watching my press pools so you can copy me, you dweeb."

He rolls his eyes. “How will we ever live?”

You clutch your chest dramatically. “We won’t.” 

“In what form would you like your apology, your royal highness?” 

“Oh fuck you, Jeon.” 

“Apology's coming,” he promises. “One of these days.” 

You highly doubt that.

“I won’t hold my breath. I’d like to live to see 30.”

You let your gaze drift back to the window, watching the world blur past in streaks of green and gray. The early morning sun keeps catching on random things — car windshields, road signs, some poor jogger's reflective gear. Your abandoned AirPod sits on your lap, reminding you of all the work you have left to do and definitely aren't going to accomplish with Jungkook sitting there being... whatever this is.

Just as you're considering reopening your laptop and pretending to be productive, your bladder decides to make its presence known. Damnit. You were so comfortable. 

Sighing, you turn toward Jungkook. “Move. I gotta pee.”

“What happened to please like a civilized human being?” He smirks, cocking his head. 

“Please move before I pee on you.”

“Okay, ew.” He shifts his legs approximately two inches, which creates a gap roughly the size of a Pop Tart. "There you go."

“That’s not… you know what, fine.” It’s definitely not enough room but whatever. You stand up, eyeing the bus for the bathroom. The bathroom is located in possibly the worst spot imaginable — right in the middle of everything, next to the emergency exit, like they wanted to make sure everyone could witness your walk of shame.

You begin to step over his legs, halfway through the maneuver (you note his legs are freakishly long and bulky) when the bus hits what must be the Grand Canyon of potholes. Your head smacks the ceiling, your balance goes to hell, and you’re about to face-plant into the aisle before two warm, firm hands plant themselves on your hips, anchoring you. 

Looking down, Jungkook is staring up at you with those expressive brown eyes. You become incredibly aware that your outer thighs are bracketing his and his hands are spanning across your hipbones, and that this is probably the most compromising position you’ve ever found yourself in on public transportation. 

Never mind the fact that his hands fit so well around your hips you want to keep them there forever. 

“Careful, sweetheart.” He knows calling you that is going to piss you off, and the way your face contorts shows him he’s hit the mothership. 

“That restraining order is calling..” you joke, trailing off as you pry his hands from your hips and finally step into the aisle. 

You make your way toward the bathroom, gripping seat backs for balance and trying very hard not to think about the way his hands felt. As you walk, your chronic nosiness gets the better of you, and you start peeking into the seats you pass.

There’s actually… a lot more empty seats than you thought there were. Rows and rows of empty aisle seats, unoccupied. 

Your heart buzzes for a millisecond, reverberates through your entire being as the realization hits you: he lied. 

The bus wasn’t fully packed. He chose to sit next to you.

He wanted to sit next to you. 

You’re supposed to hate him. You need to hate him. But standing here in a swaying Greyhound bus, staring at rows of empty seats, you're starting to think you might be the biggest liar of them all.

So, Monroe’s team wasn’t kidding about the whole ‘all expenses paid’ thing, because this hotel has absolutely no business housing someone who still shops in the clearance section at Target. 

When you finally stumble through the revolving doors after your four-and-a-half-hour journey to hell, you're pretty sure you've accidentally wandered into the lobby from Home Alone. Massive crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, marble floors reflecting off your scuffed up sneakers. Men in three-piece suits roam around the space, attending to guests who probably spend more on room service than you make in a month. 

“Woah.” you breathe out, and your bag slides off your shoulder. You make zero effort to catch it. 

The past four and a half hours might as well have been some kind of fever dream. You accomplished exactly nothing work-wise, spent a good hour critiquing every political op-ed ever written, and then promptly passed out against the window for the remainder of the trip.

Well. Not exactly the window. 

Your head may or may not have migrated onto Jungkook’s shoulder at some point, and he may or may not have just… let it stay there. You woke up groggily to find a small patch of drool on his sweatshirt and his inquisitive chocolate eyes watching you. It was deeply unsettling. 

“Heavy sleeper, eh?” He had said, and you’d jerked upright so fast you nearly put yourself in a neck brace. 

But he also didn’t push you off. 

And that would all be mortifying enough on its own, but then he went and paid for the Uber to the hotel before you could even open the app, waving off your protests with a “Don’t worry about it” that made bile rise up in your throat. 

Too many acts of service in one day from Jungkook Jeon. Your world order is officially in shambles.

“Are you gonna stand there all day, or…?” Jungkook's voice breaks through jokingly. He’s already heading towards the check-in desk, his shoulder brushing yours as he passes — which should not make your skin feel like it’s been hit with a small electrical current, but clearly today is just full of things that should not be happening. 

Yes, you think to yourself, watching him walk away. Standing here forever is a viable option, considering the fanciest hotel I've ever stayed in was that sketchy motel outside Hershey Park when I was fifteen and my dad got a Groupon. 

You shake yourself back to reality and follow him, trying not to gawk at the fact that there are fresh flowers arranged on every surface. Jungkook already has his ID out and is giving his information to the desk clerk, a woman who looks like she stepped out of a magazine ad. 

Zoning out a little, you half-listen to their exchange while taking in the absurdity of your surroundings. There's a sitting area with leather chairs, and — oh god —  is that a piano? An actual grand piano just sitting there like it's normal?

“Perfect, Mr. Jeon. You’re all set with room 1247.” The woman’s voice snaps you back to attention. She slides a key card across the counter, an overly excited smile plastered on her face. “The elevators are just past the concierge desk.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says, pocketing the card. He turns to you, eyebrows pointing in the direction of the desk. “Your turn.”

Right. Yes. No more ogling. You are an adult. You step forward, fumbling with your ID while trying not to feel intimidated by the woman’s flawless makeup and perfect French manicure. “Checking in. Should be under the name ‘[Y/N] [Y/L/N].”

Her fingernails clack against the keyboard, expression slowly shifting from pleasantness to mind confusion. “I’m sorry, could you repeat your last name?”

You spell it out slowly, watching as her frown deepens as she clicks through whatever fancy system this place probably uses. A habitual swoop of anxiety forms in the pit of your stomach. Of course something would go wrong. Of fucking course you would end up having to sleep in Penn Station or Port Authority Bus Terminal.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, tone genuinely apologetic. “I’m not seeing a reservation under that name for today's check in. Let me check if it was perhaps booked under your organization?”

“CNN,” you supply, and Jungkook glances over at you, concerned. 

More typing. More frowning. Wrinkles scrunch up on her forehead. “Hm. I do see a CNN reservation but it appears to be…” she swallows, looks between you and Jungkook. “Well, this is unusual. It looks like there’s only one room with a king bed booked under the CNN account.”

Your laugh, when it finally claws its way out from the depths of your chest, is unhinged. No. No no no. You've read this exact scenario before in those terrible Harry Styles fanfictions you used to devour at 2 AM during your sophomore year — the ones with titles like "Snowed In with My Enemy" or "One Bed, Two Hearts" — but this cannot be happening to you. This is real life. 

You are a serious journalist with a 401k, not some protagonist in a story written by someone named dreamersparacosm.

“That is literally impossible. I,” you point dramatically to yourself, “work for CNN.”

You switch gears and gesture wildly in Jungkook's direction. “He works for Fox. Fox News. Disgusting, right? We are competitors.”

The woman blinks calmly, like she’s trying to process whether you’re having some kind of breakdown. “I… see. Let me double check the reservation details.”

“Please do.” You’re begging now, hands clasped in desperation. “Because there is no universe in which they booked me a room with him.”

You swivel to face Jungkook, who’s looking suspiciously amused by this whole debacle. “This is hilarious to you, isn’t it?” 

“A little bit, yeah.”

“I’m going to murder Mark,” you mutter under your breath. “I’m going to take his calendar and shove it up his—”

“Ma’am?” The clerk interrupts, gulping. Oh dear lord. “I’m afraid the reservation is quite clear. One room, one bed, two guests, booked under Monroe’s team with CNN listed as the primary contact.”

You stare at her. “Monroe’s team? Booked this?”

“It appears so, yes.”

“So,” and now you’re just trying to piece it together yourself, “Mark booked it for us…”

“Together.” Jungkook supplies, grinning as if this is the best thing that has happened to him all week. 

"This is against HR!" you shriek, causing several well-dressed hotel guests to turn and stare. "This is violating every HR policy that has ever been written! There are handbooks about this! Seminars!"

The aforementioned woman starts looking around frantically like she’s getting ready to execute a search warrant for her manager. “Ma’am, I’m not sure how our hotel bookings relates to our HR—”

"Not your HR, my HR! His HR! All the HRs!" You're gesticulating wildly now. "We work for competing networks! What if he sees my notes? What if I talk in my sleep and reveal my next piece?”

“Do you often talk journalism in your sleep?” Jungkook asks, enthralled. 

“That’s not the point!!” You stomp your foot on the marble floor, and it echoes throughout the lobby. 

“Ma’am,” she tries again. She has this look on her face that tells you she’s seen people like you before. Great. You have become the stuck-up guest you’ve always loathed. “I understand your concerns, but unfortunately—”

“Can we call someone? Can we call the State Department?  The FCC? Anyone with authority?” At any moment now, someone is going to start filming you and post it on TikTok for the world to see.

Jungkook is doubled over in hysterics now. “The FCC doesn't regulate hotel stays.”

“They should!” you snap at him. “This is a clear conflict of interest.”

“Oh my god.” You turn back to the woman. It’s pretty apparent she’s documenting every second of this in her brain so she can recap this to the team later in the break room over coffee. "Is there another room available? Any room. I'll take a broom closet. A supply closet. The roof."

“I’m afraid we’re completely booked today and tonight. There’s a medical conference a few blocks away from here.” She bites her lip, eyeing you apprehensively. 

“Wonderful.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “That is just lovely.”

She starts typing rapidly into her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard like she’s defusing a bomb. (Technically, she is. The bomb in question is a girl named [Y/N].) You can practically see her internal thoughts: Please let me find something, anything, to get this crazy woman away from me. 

“The best I can do,” she starts, “is put you on the waiting list for a separate room. If we have any cancellations, I can move you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Your voice cracks like a boy going through puberty. “Tomorrow morning? As in, not today? As in, I’m stuck with him?”

He waves cheerfully behind you, and the clerk bites back a smile. “I’m afraid so.”

You whirl around and face Jungkook, who’s vibrating with glee. “This is not happening.”

“It definitely is,” he says, looking like Christmas just came early. 

“I could sleep in the lobby,” you suggest desperately, turning back around. “On one of those fancy leather chairs. I bet they’re comfortable.”

“Ma’am, I’m afraid hotel policy doesn’t allow—”

"What about the business center? Do you have a business center? I could just work all night. I don't need sleep. Sleep is for the weak."

Jungkook snorts. "You literally drooled on my shoulder on the bus ride for two hours."

You glare at him from the peripheral of your vision. 

The woman looks between you both, eyes ping-ponging. “So… will you be taking the room?” 

On one hand, this is absolutely mortifying and probably violates several HR policies you didn't even know existed. On the other hand... maybe you could use this to your advantage. Plant some fake evidence of journalistic misconduct. Find all his sources and set them on fire. Steal his laptop and replace all his documents with pictures of cats.

You kind of like your chances.

“I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?” you sneer, inhaling deeply through your nose. It’s fine. Everything is fine. You’ll march back down at exactly 6 AM tomorrow morning and camp out at this desk until they give you your own room.

She tentatively slides the key card across the counter with visible relief, probably thrilled to be rid of you both. You snatch it up and gather your bag, walking past Jungkook wordlessly toward the elevators. 

His footsteps follow behind you, and you can smell the smug satisfaction radiating off his body. 

“So,” he says, sidling up way too close as you wait for the elevator. “You, me, a whole bed? Who gets which side of the bed?”

You take a step away from him. “I will light myself on fire before I share a bed with you.”

“That seems extreme.”

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. You step inside and press yourself against the far wall, the frigid metal cooling your warm skin. 

“What about a pillow wall?” he inquires, hitting the button for the twelfth floor. “Super traditional, super safe.”

“What about..” you pretend to be deep in thought, “you sleeping in the bathtub?”

“I’m 5’11. I don’t think I’d fit.”

You bat your lashes at him sarcastically. “Then we’ll chop off your legs.”

A ridiculously joyful grin emerges on his face. “You know, most people would consider this a stroke of luck. Stuck in a fancy hotel with someone really sexy…”

You stare at him in complete disbelief. “Really sexy?”

“C’mon, look at me.” He gestures at his entire being with both hands. 

“I’m looking. I’m not seeing it.”

“Really? Not even a little bit?” He pouts. 

The elevator continues climbing the floors, and you’re beginning to wonder if you’re trapped in the world’s most ridiculous comedy. “Your ego could have its own zip code.”

The elevator dings at the twelfth floor and you launch your body out the doors, speed-walking down the hallway while checking room numbers. 1241, 1243, 1245…

“I have to say,” Jungkook trails behind you like a lost puppy, “your reaction to all this is really entertaining. Very you core.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you murmur, stopping in front of room 1247. The key card is heavy in your hand. 

“I feel like we should make the best of the situation, like most people would. We could order room service together, watch a movie, have a deep conversation about life…” He swings back and forth on the balls of his heels. 

You glance over your shoulder to scowl at him. “Most people don’t have to share a room with their nemesis.”

“Nemesis?” His eyes light up in delight. “That’s sooo much cooler than rival. I’m your nemesis now?”

“You’re my sleep paralysis demon.”

“I’ll take it.” He’s smiling that dumb, pleased-with-himself smile that makes you want to punt him down the hallway like a football. "So are you going to open the door, or are we setting up shop out here? Because this carpet looks expensive but not particularly comfortable."

You slide the key card into the slot forcefully. It’s barely 24 hours in one room. You’ve done worse. “I’m establishing ground rules the second we get in there.” “Ooh, I love rules. I’m good at follo—”

“Please, shut up Jeon.” The lock clicks green and you push open the door, stepping into what is undoubtedly the nicest hotel room you've ever seen in your life. 

The space is huge. Gleaming hardwood floors, a sitting area paired with a couch and coffee table, and a minibar stuffed to the brim with all types of liquor. A flat screen TV is mounted to the wall, bathroom door cracked next to it so that you can catch a glimpse of the bathtub that’s legitimately the size of a small swimming pool. 

But none of that really matters. You step into the room fully, past the threshold and the floor-to-ceiling windows make your jaw fall slack. The curtains are pulled back to reveal a glorious view of Times Square, billboards and screens creating a kaleidoscope of color, even in the morning light. 

And then you see it. 

That stupid singular bed. One large, fluffy, lone bed. 

You both drop your bags at the same time, your own shoulder reddening from the amount of time you carried that massive thing. His bag — to no one’s surprise — is one of those sleek black bags that probably has compartments for everything. Yours is a battered duffel bag that you’ve had since college and is literally held with duct tape in some places.  

“Okay,” you announce, spinning around to face him once you’ve shoved your bag into the corner. “First rule. You stay on your side of the room. I don’t care if there’s a fire, you do not cross the invisible line I’m about to draw down the middle.”

“What invisible line?” He runs his hand through his unruly hair, and you try not to pay attention to the way his sweatshirt rides up a little. 

“The one I’m drawing right now.” You draw an imaginary line with your finger. “From the door to the window. Your side, my side. Like the Berlin Wall.”

He raises his eyebrows. “The Berlin Wall was torn down, you know that, right?”

“I won’t let history repeat itself.”

He flops down on the bed — his side, thank god — and stretches his arms behind his head. You stand there like a deer in headlights, hyperaware of every breath he takes. Suddenly the room can’t be big enough.

“Second rule,” you continue on, “no walking around in your underwear. Or, walking around undressed in any capacity.”

"Aww, and here I was planning to really let loose." His eyes are twinkling with mischief again. "What if I get hot in the middle of the night?"

Your brain comes up with several unhelpful images that you shove down so hard they probably reach your shoes. "Then you suffer in silence like the rest of us."

“What about you? Same rules apply?”

“Obviously.”

“Shame.”  He clucks his tongue, and your cheeks flame hot. 

You check your phone to avoid looking at him any longer and realize it’s already 11 AM. Monroe’s press conference is at 1, so you should probably head over soon to scope out the venue and grab a decent seat. 

“We should get ready.” It’s not lost on you that your voice is higher than normal. “Monroe’s thing starts in two hours. You should probably change into something more… professional.”

He glances down at that stupid Columbia sweatshirt like he’s just now remembering that’s not press conference attire. “Good call.”

Turning toward your duffle bag, you dig around in there for the blazer you packed. Hopefully it’s not too wrinkled from being stuffed between your shoes and your toiletries. “I’ll just grab my stuff and change in the bathroom.”

There’s a soft grunt behind you as he gets up from the bed, followed by the sound of a zipper and rustling fabric. You’re still facing your bag, noting what you’ll need to bring to the conference, when you whip back around to head towards the bathroom. 

You freeze. 

The man is shirtless. Jungkook Jeon is standing in the middle of this ludicrously fancy hotel room, completely shirtless, rifling through his bag as if he didn’t just break rule number two. 

And now you can see the full extent of his tattoo sleeve, intricate black ink winding from his shoulder all the way down to his wrist and fingers in patterns you'd never been able to make out when it was hidden under dress shirts and blazers. There are what look like snakes and words mixed with geometric designs, and — hold the phone — is that a chest tattoo spawning across his pec?

It's not even just the tattoos that are making your brain malfunction. It's the fact that his biceps are absolutely ridiculous — like, absurd in their definition — and all you’re thinking about is how those arms would look wrapped around someone. Around you, possibly. Around your nec—

You have officially lost your sense of self. 

You’ve interviewed senators, covered international summits, and you are not going to be affected by something as frivolous as your archnemesis’ very real, very unfairly defined everything. 

Except you absolutely are. 

“What the fuck?! Don’t get changed in front of me, you dimwit!” You flail your hands wildly in the direction of his shirtless situation. “There’s a bathroom! With a door that closes!”

“Okay, calm down.” He doesn’t bother to look up at you. Just keeps digging through the pile of clothes in his bag.

“You should not be standing there half fucking naked, Jeon. We established rules," you croak, voice barely functional.

He finally looks up, unbothered. "You said no walking around shirtless. I'm not walking. I'm standing perfectly still."

"That's not—that doesn't count as a loophole!"

"Technically, it does."

You spin back around so fast, facing the window where people rush by like ants on a playground, pressing your hands to your burning cheeks. "Put a shirt on!"

"I'm trying to! You're the one who said I needed to look professional."

Okay, breathing techniques. You try to remember what your therapist said. Everything is fine. You're not going to dwell on the fact that he clearly uses cars as weights at the gym, or wonder what those shoulders would feel like under your hands, or have any thoughts whatsoever about the man currently half-naked ten feet away from you.

Oh, no. You are so completely screwed.

Clutching your blouse and blazer in your right hand, you sprint to the bathroom and slam the door behind you. You knew he was buff. You knew he was in shape underneath all those dress shirts he wears. But there's a difference between knowing something and having it burned into your retinas in high definition.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. You know what it is — it’s because you haven’t gotten laid in a while. Your body is just confused by the presence of an attractive male specimen. 

You change into your outfit as quickly as humanly possible. It’s pretty challenging to do since your hands are made of jello now.

When you finally work up the courage to crack open the bathroom door, his sweatshirt is neatly folded on the bed and he's — thank you, universe — wearing a crisp white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to hint at those tattoos.

“Better?” He asks, adjusting his cuffs. 

“Yeah. Whatever.” Nonchalance is what you’re going for, but you sound undeniably chalant. “Much better.”

“I like your outfit.” 

That catches you off guard. Your eyes meet his, and your stomach flips as you become cognizant of the genuine look on his face. 

Because you guess that’s what you two do now. You compliment each other. 

"Oh. Thanks."

"That color looks good on you."

You glance down at your red blazer. You noted some senator wearing it the other day and practically flew to Aritzia to snag your own. "It's just... red."

“It’s a nice red.” This exchange is more troubling than when he was half-naked. “Brings out your eyes.”

"Are we really doing this now? The compliment thing?"

"I guess we are." He shrugs, grabbing his press badge from his bag. "Is that okay with you?"

"I don't know. It's weird." Like, frightfully weird. 

"Good weird or bad weird?"

You stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if this is some kind of elaborate joke. "I haven't decided yet."

He nods, and then checks his watch. Must’ve run out of things to fight you on. “We should head down. I want to grab a good spot before all the other vultures descend.”

“Vultures?” You’re grateful for the return to familiar territory. “I prefer ‘information enthusiasts’.”

“Right, because that sounds so much better.” He’s beaming now, and you can feel the weird tension from earlier dissolve into the ceiling fan. “Still sticking to your strategy?”

“Depends on what she gives me to work with.” You grab your notebook from your bag. 

“Smart.” 

“Always.” You study his face, hugging your book to your chest. “What about you? Please tell me you came up with an actual plan while I slept peacefully on your shoulder. You can’t possibly think you’ll get by on charm.”

“Hey.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “That strategy has worked pretty well for me so far.”

"Has it though?" You tilt your head, forming your words slowly in the hopes they’ll sound more daunting. "From where I'm standing, it looks like you've been following my lead for the past few years."

He goes quiet for a second, and you can tell you've hit something. "Is that what you really think? That I've been copying you?"

“Haven’t you?”

Duh, he obviously has. You caught him watching your press briefings, taking literal notes on your questioning style. He's not nearly as slick as he thinks he is.

“I’m just trying to keep up.”

There’s something buried there, in the words. A muted truth you’ve been trying to dodge since the gala, when you were multiple glasses of vodka soda past responsible and he'd said something about always knowing what questions to ask. When your guard was down and you couldn't be trusted to keep your walls up properly. He'd made it clear then, hadn't he? That he'd been studying you, trying to figure out your methods?

“Hm, something like that,” you retort while heading for the door. 

“You think you’re better than me?” 

"Nah," you say, lifting your chin. "Just smarter."

You barely catch his response, but you swear you hear him mutter, "Damn right you are."

And that's enough to send you right back up, up, up — except this time, you're not eleven years old clutching a safety bar at Coney Island. You're twenty-six and terrified, because you know, deep down, you never actually wanted to remember the drop. Possibly avoided it on purpose. 

The real scary part is when you're suspended at the very top, heart thrashing in your chest, when you finally stop looking at the world spread out below and start wondering what it feels like when you fall. 

masterlist + ask

taglist ; @somehowukook @lovingkoalaface @moroe-blog2 @almatiarau @hanamgi @yooniepot @strawberryberrygirl @rossy1080 @libra04 @kenzierj11 @senaqsstuff @dtownbae @xumyboo @bellefaerie @chimchoom @satisfied18 @arcanekookz @vintagemoonsstuff @brokebitch-101 @taolucha @songbyeonkim @oopscoop @mochibites00 @whatevevrerr @lessthantmr @nesha227 @mar-lo-pap @jazzyb22 @lachesismoonmist @indyuhhhhh @sky-23s-world @swimmingweaselzineegs @jiminshi20 @khadeeeeej @withluvjm @anishasingh1233 @jksusawife @btstrology @youphoriajk @jadestonedaeho7 @diamondjeon @sharplycoldpaladin @annafarrr @tteokbokibyjk @prxdajeon @tatzzz-25 @magicalnachocreator @younhakim29 @purplelanterns @134340-kr @amarawayne

[internetladyfables]

[Headcanons] Anaxa: In a Romantic Relationship

cw: self-indulgent, possible OOC, fluff, female reader.

Requested by anon. Reposted from my previous blog that got shadowbanned.

Before dating:

At first, Anaxa dismisses love and romantic relationships as “evolutionary instincts to ensure species survival” and “love is a distraction, an unpredictable variable that interferes with rational thinking” and blah-blah. At best, he may treat love as a curiosity — carefully observing people’s behaviours, reactions and emotions.

“Why would someone choose emotional vulnerability when it yields no measurable advantage?” He asks himself. Until he meets you.

He tries to analyze you at first. Observes your behaviour, and even keeps notes: “Subject [Y/N] appears to make my heart beat faster, increase my body temperature. Further observation required.”; “Why does her laughter causes me smile as well?”; “Why does she occupy my thoughts 56.8% of time?”

For once, he doesn’t want to run the numbers or theorize. He just feels.

After starting dating:

Awkward, at first, very awkward. Bear with him, okay? He’s never been in a relationship before, so everything is new, and slightly awkward. He reads entire books (romance and non-fiction) and research papers about dating. He wants to study how to love you properly. It’s kind of adorable.

Also at first, treats everything like an experiment. He asks you questions mid-date: “Does proximity like this comfort you? Should I replicate the gesture later?” Slowly, affection becomes natural. You teach him that affection doesn’t always have to be explained or justified. Sometimes, it just is.

Learns quickly. A brush of fingers when handing you something, standing a little closer than necessary, even *gasp* unprotected hand holding! All of this still makes his heartbeat to increase.

Extremely observant and remembers everything (probably takes notes as well): your likes and dislikes, your favourite food and drinks, preferences, important dates, anniversaries, what dromas plushie is your favourite.

Has deep conversations with you. He loves to discussing philosophies, the stars, the universe, existence, alchemy with you. Bonus points if you challenge him. If not, he’s more than happy to answer any of your questions — as long as you’re present with him and listen to him, he understand that he matters to you and values your company.

You’re the only one who’s allowed to call him Anaxa freely and he won’t comment on it. If you’re bold enough, you may call him some petnames — it will be the best opportunity for you to see the ever rational Anaxagoras blushing~

Doesn’t call you any petnames, only a shortening of you name, but maybe some nickname based on it. But the way he does it — really softly, dreamily with a faint smile on his lips and softness in his eye.

When you flirt or tease him, he sometimes may respond with deadpan, overly logical remarks that make you laugh. Or completely the opposite: he may quote cringy pick-up lines that he read during his research, which makes you laugh hard as well while he’s standing here flustered, not understanding what funny he just said.

Manages to be playful. “My data suggests that this ‘kissing’ yields positive emotional feedback. Shall we test the theory?”

Uses kisses to say things words can’t. A kiss on your forehead means ‘I care’, a kiss on your lips — ‘I love you’.

Treasures simple moments like watching stars together, reading side by side, or quietly sharing a meal. These moments feel like “recharging” and strengthen your bond.

Despite all his tests, experiments, and observations, Anaxa has learned the biggest lesson: some phenomena — you — can’t be fully just explained.

[guksfairy]

ALMOST MISSED YOU | JJK

how you made your way back to him

wc: 1.2k

drabble series masterlist

School was never one of Jungkook’s top priorities, especially now that his main focus was debuting as a solo artist under Wonijin Entertainment. A company that decided to take a chance on young 13 year old Jungkook. They saw the potential the day he walked into their audition room ready to sing his heart out for the world

At most, Jungkook would attend school no more than three days a week, with his parents allowing it only because he promised if he failed he would put school first and even apply to universities.

At this point, if you asked Jungkook what his math teacher’s name was, he’d take a wild guess and probably get it right 2/10 times. Besides his friends, Jungkook only ever noticed one other person in school. You.

You sat in the corner with your friends, minding your business. You weren’t loud like the popular girls but you weren’t so quiet to be an “invisible” person either.

You were beautiful in ways Jungkook didn’t even think could be possible outside of movies. He wishes he could say he befriended you and asked you out but, with him barely being at school, he didn’t feel like he had enough time.

A boyfriend that is too busy cooped up in an entertainment company building isn’t what you deserved.

And when Jungkook finally debuted at the young age of 15, one of the youngest at the time, he was left to wonder what happened to you. He left school and was privately educated by the company’s private educator. He graduated on a random Wednesday afternoon.

You never left his mind though. He’d randomly be practicing one day and think about the girl he was attracted to when he was 13. Or he’d be at a fan signing event and hope that you became a fan of his and were in the audience.

But news of you was a lost cause until that one Monday night. That glorious night you found your way back to his life.

One of his good model friends had reposted your post. It was a group photo. He knew Taehyung but he didn’t recognize the other five people. Except for you in the very center of the picture. Your smile outshining the others as you held a glass of champagne.

Your caption.

Happy Birthday to me! Thank you my loves for the surprise birthday dinner <3

Within seconds Jungkook finds himself scrolling through your account and finds you have become a well known content creator. Mostly vlogs where you show what you do on the average day.

Jungkook watches a handful of your videos that night, feeling like he’s a teenager all over again with the way he felt butterflies in his stomach every time you smiled or laughed.

He thought about following you that night but decided against it when he remembered who he was and the impact it could bring to you if his fans found out he followed you. There was nothing that could get past them. So instead, he texted Taehyung.

Jungkook 10:18PM

You know Y/N?

Taehyung 10:20 PM

Why do you ask?

You know her?

Jungkook 10:20 PM

went to school with her

always wondered what happened with her lol

Taehyung 10:21 PM

Jeon Jungkook wondering about a girl??

The same one that gave that model girl a fake number when he got asked out??

Jungkook 10:21 PM

that was different

i’m not giving my number to a stranger

Taehyung 10:22 PM

*a model

Jungkook 10:22 PM

whatever

Taehyung 10:22 PM

Well if you must know yes I’m friends with Y/N

Jungkook 10:23 PM

is she dating anyone

Taehyung 10:23 PM

lmaoooo smooth

ask her

xxx-xxx-xxxx

As Jungkook stared at the screen in panic, wondering if he should actually text you or not, Taehyung was already next to you excited to tell you about the conversation he just had.

“Do you know Jungkook?”

Everyone around the table was too occupied in their own conversations to notice your eyes widen at the question your dear friend had asked you.

“Jungkook? Oh my god I haven’t heard of him in years,” you chuckle remembering the boy who would show up to school every once in a while and copy off his friend because he was always behind on material.

You knew he was training to become an idol but were never too invested in it the way everyone else in the class was. You always thought he was cute and funny but if he was going to be an idol, there was no use in confessing to him the way you felt.

The stolen glances during class were just that.

“Gave him your number,” Tae says like it’s nothing, taking a sip of his own drink.

“What? Why?”

“Because he asked about you, that’s why,”

He asked about you?

“He asked about me? Why?”

“I don’t know he said something about how he recognized the pretty girl in the picture I reposted,” you roll your eyes not taking him seriously because you know your friend too well at this point.

“Ha ha you’re so funny,” he smiles and replies.

“I’m joking but he did say he knew you so I gave him your number. Maybe you guys could reconnect and maybe you can finally move on from Jongwoo,” Tae says mentioning your current crush that you know is going nowhere since you know he only sees you as a friend.

You stare at Jongwoo across the table talking with someone else and you sigh while looking back at Taehyung.

Ding.

“Couldn’t even wait a full day,” Taehyung chuckles and you read the notification on your phone.

xxx-xxx-xxxx 10:37 PM

Hey it’s Jungkook. Got your number from Tae

Hope you don’t mind

and that you remember me haha

“He texts like a loser,” Taehyung jokes and you gently shove him with a smile.

You don’t text him back in the moment, but hours later when your comfortable in bed you finally have the courage to reply.

You 12:11 PM

Omg hi !!

Sorry for the late reply I was out

Jungkook 12:11PM

don’t apologize i get it lol

happy belated birthday btw

i’m not a creep i just saw Tae’s story

You smile at his text and continue the conversation. One that didn’t end until 3 in the morning with the promise to get coffee in person soon and catch up properly.

You go to bed with a smile not knowing that Jungkook is doing the exact same thing.

He recalls the way he felt the following Monday after he officially left school and how he wouldn’t be able to see his friends now that he had a much stricter schedule, but more importantly he couldn’t see you anymore. Couldn’t look at the back of the class saying he’s just looking outside when really he’s watching you take notes with your glittery pens he knew you liked.

He let you slip out of his life once, and he swears he’s not going to let it happen again.

[rainrot4me]

hello!! can I request on if creeps would have any fears/phobias

✦ . jeff the killer

Irrelevance.

He’s terrified of being forgotten. For someone who made himself a legend through blood and rage, the idea that time could erase him gnaws at the edges of his ego.

“You think people are just gonna stop talking about me? That I’ll just… disappear?”

His nightmares are quiet ones: empty rooms, blank stares, no one looking when he screams.

✦ . ticci toby

Loss of control.

He lives in chaos, but the one thing he needs is control over his own mind. He’s scared of the day when even that slips. The ticking in his head never stops—and he’s scared of what happens when it drowns him out.

“I can’t tell if it’s real or no-not sometimes. But I know w-when I’m losing it.”

He’ll fight tooth and nail to stay grounded—even if it means hurting himself in the process.

✦ . eyeless jack

Attachment.

He’s been alone for so long that the idea of needing someone again terrifies him. He’s scared of being seen as human, of being vulnerable, of someone having the power to leave.

“It’s easier when I’m just a monster. Easier when they run.”

His fear isn’t about being feared—it’s about not being feared enough to keep them at a distance.

✦ . masky (tim wright)

Becoming what he hates.

He’s lived under the weight of possession, mind control, fractured identity. What terrifies him most is not knowing where he ends and the other begins.

“If I don’t remember doing it, does it still count? Am I still to blame?”

The scariest thing for Tim isn’t dying. It’s losing himself again and becoming the one who ruins others.

✦ . hoodie (brian thomas)

Being watched.

Ironic, considering how often he’s behind the camera. But it’s being the subject—the thought of some force always watching, waiting, knowing.

“You think I wear the mask for fun?”

He masks up not just to hide his face—but to hide from the feeling that something’s still out there.

✦ . kate the chaser

Being manipulated.

She’s been burned before—used, gaslit, turned into something she didn’t recognize. Her greatest fear is being someone else’s puppet again.

“I followed orders once. Look where that got me.”

She’ll run headfirst into danger, but the idea of trusting someone and being wrong again? That cuts deeper than any weapon ever could.

✦ . ben drowned

Powerlessness.

Drowning wasn’t just how he died—it’s how he lives. He’s scared of being trapped again, stuck in some system or cycle where he can’t control the outcome.

“I glitched out of hell and I’m never going back.”

He keeps hacking, jumping bodies, changing code—because staying still would mean sinking again.

✦ . clockwork

Being underestimated.

After years of being dismissed, called crazy, locked away—her greatest fear is being seen as weak or pitied.

“Go ahead. Call me broken. I’ll show you what broken does.”

She wears her trauma like armor. But deep down, she’s afraid the cracks go too deep to fix.

✦ . laughing jack

Boredom.

Jack thrives on chaos, laughter, reaction. The idea of silence—of nothing—makes him anxious and mean.

“What’s the point of existing if no one’s laughing? No one’s screaming?”

His mania is a mask for his fear that without performance, he’s nothing but empty stuffing.

✦ . slenderman

Entropy.

He is order, manipulation, ritual. But the universe trends toward disorder—and he knows it.

“Even gods must decay.”

The thought that one day he’ll erode into myth, then nothing—that’s the only thing that rattles him.

꩜ .ᐟ

[circeyoru]

Shadow and Void _ Part 13

[Yandere!Sung Jinwoo x Enemy Monarch!Reader]

Arc 1: Part 1 ― Part 2 ― Part 3 Arc 2: Part 4 ― Part 5 Arc 3: Part 6 ― Part 7 Arc 4: Part 8 ― Part 9 ― Part 10 ― Part 11 ― Special Arc 5: Part 12 ― Part 13 (here) ― Part 14  ― Part 15 (links will be updated when the last part is out)

You summoned a tornado of mist whirling and surrounding Jinwoo who was encased in Sillad’s ice. You knew for a fact that Jinwoo had a chance of survival because you knew Ashborn wouldn’t let his careful work go to waste. If Ashborn or even a small fraction of his being was within Jinwoo’s body or his powers, then there is a chance for Jinwoo.

One slight chance that even your human vessel didn’t have. You held onto that hope and protected Jinwoo from the others that wanted to finish the job. You can hold on until the transformation is complete, you can hold on until the true Shadow Monarch arrives.

Please… Jinwoo…

This fourth life if he manages to ascend to a true Monarch. First, as his ordinary human self, second as his weak Hunter self, third as his growing Hunter self and being the successor Ashborn was so proud of, and last would be the fourth where he takes over completely and Ashborn will be no more but a distant memory. As much as you hated the thought of it, you can’t overlook Ashborn’s will and deeds. Jinwoo is practically his pride and joy from this point on. So you’ll do everything in your power to ensure he is among the living.

But more so because Sung Jinwoo had grown on you as someone separate from Ashborn, an irreplaceable individual in your life as well.

“Step away while we’re still asking, Monarch of Void.” Sillad warned with his spearhead pointed at you. Rakan and Querehsha joined him on either side. “You are still able to join the right side, we won’t tell the Monarch of Destruction about your actions.”

You held your ground, the layer of mist thickening at your ankles, “Try and move me away.” Your grip on your weapon tightened as you gave it a swing to show your undeterred will. “I have forsaken Ashborn once, I won’t repeat my mistake.”

Querehsha laughed, “How was that a mistake? What you did was honourable. Deserving! He was too strong and ignorant. It was only right for us to put him in his place.”

A knot twisted in your form, as unpleasant as it was, you knew you deserved the suffering. For what you did to Ashborn, this was the least of your sufferings. “None of you are coming near the successor of the Monarch of Shadows.” Your eyes glowed as a wave of aura pushed everything back by a few feet, even the three Monarchs, “This oath I hereby stake, a foreshadow of the future to come. I, Monarch of Void, vow on my power as a Monarch; Sung Jinwoo will not be touched by any of you for Sung Jinwoo will prevail over all you Monarchs.”

Silver aura outlined your form and Jinwoo’s, you glared at them all as they took a step back from shock and annoyance. It was apparent why they would feel and be threatened by a mere declaration from you, for it held meaning and power unlike any other done in the universe. To stake your power meant whatever you vowed upon would come to pass. 

While you do hold the power to strengthen your allies, your main power is to create a future you foresee. The only downside was that it would not be for yourself. It must be directed at another individual and cannot be repeated. That was how Ashborn, who was the strongest, was defeated by a simple betrayal. When you wanted to bring Ashborn back, you found that you couldn’t take back what you had staked. You were a coward to bend towards the will of the other Monarchs. You were a coward for staying neutral and being taken advantage of.

Never again. Even if when you are making enemies of the other Monarchs, you will side with Ashborn, and that also applied to his successor, whom he cherishes and you love.

[TITLES OF ‘MONARCH OF VOID’ HAVE BEEN REVEALED.]

- <HARBINGER OF SUCCESS> AND <KEEPER OF OATH> 

[A SKILL OF ‘MONARCH OF VOID’ HAS BEEN REVEALED.]

- PROMISE OF THE FUTURE

[CONGRATULATIONS! ‘PLAYER’ HAS GAINED THE FULL TRUST AND SUPPORT OF THE ‘MONARCH OF VOID’.]

- YOU WILL BE ABLE TO KEEP THE MONARCH BY YOUR SIDE AS YOU WANTED.

Within the prison of ice, Jinwoo was reliving his life as if time had gone in reverse. Everywhere he looked, you weren’t there, as you only appeared when the Chairman was attacked. That was the starting point of your interactions. However, before he could search for you, he needed to build his army from the ground up. If you were anything like the first time he met, you would be extremely hostile and wary of him. Even treating him as something insignificant.

He went through the same trials. Did everything he recalled up until that point, where he dreamed of him dying. He ignored the repeated notification window where he was asked if he wanted to restart the world. He knew of your appearance, and he knew of your home. Yet when he got there, you were nowhere to be found. As if you didn’t exist.

So he called out to the void around him, “Why don’t you stop this. I know that all of this is an illusion! So stop this charade and reveal yourself!! How much longer are you planning to look down on me from above?!”

The inside surroundings of a vacant cave immediately changed to that of a black void, water ripples spread out at his feet under him. Millions of windows displaying the same repeated message surrounded him to the point it made a golden cylinder wall around him as high as the eye could see. Then they all disappeared as the clink of metal echoed and the sound of footsteps announced an arrival.

“You must be the King of the Dead that the Monarch of Void was so enraptured with.” Jinwoo’s gaze turned to the black entity that appeared. A suit of armour covered his body, then shadows cloaked him like a cape. Finally, there were neon purple eyes, hair, and patterns that highlighted his figure. “Ashborn.”

“If you wanted to, you could live in this world for eternity. It would be like never waking up from the most wonderful dream.” Ashborn spoke, neither affirming nor denying his claim. 

The thought of leaving you behind was unbearable. Right this moment… Three Monarchs were in the human realm and you were defendless without him. You didn’t even do anything while he was battling against the other Monarchs. Although it was a relief that you didn’t help the other Monarchs, you didn’t help him either. “Are you telling me to be trapped within this illusion you have created?” 

“No. I did not create this world. You are responsible for its creation.” Ashborn’s form changed to that of Song Chi-Yul. “It’s a world created by combining your desire to correct your mistakes up until now, together with my power. In other words, this is my territory.” Now it was Lee Joohee’s appearance, “This is the eternal rest…” A bloodied Kim Sangshik, “Death.” His sister, Jinah, “I have been watching you for far longer than you could possibly imagine. You, who had always been closer than anyone to death, yet so desperately resisting against it.”

“Like the Monarch of Void’s vessel… So is this where you make a vow to take my body?” Jinwoo will resist in however way he can. So long as he rejected the deal, he’ll keep his body and you will remain by his side.

Ashborn’s form changed to his mother’s. “There won’t be any vows. The Monarch of Void and I do things differently, I am sure you were informed.” The Monarch stared back at Jinwoo with a knowing look, “I am the record of your struggles, the evidence of your resistance, and the reward of your sufferings. I am death, I am eternal rest, as well as terror. I am…” Finally, he took Jinwoo’s E-Rank Hunter form with dull dead eyes that reflected nothing in them, “You.” He raised a hand and made a tree grow out of nothingness, “And within my territory, you are able to do anything you want.” His form changed to a transition build Jinwoo once took, “You are able to turn my servants into yours,” A flower formed and quickly withered to dust, “And absorb my power from them.”

Jinwoo backed up a bit as the void turned into a lush green clearing within the forest. When he looked up, Ashborn had taken the form of Cha Hae-In. “Although it’s only possible within your own territory, the power to create, destroy and change the world is an omnipotent power. One that the Monarch of Void shares but far outweighs mine.”

“Are you saying that you and I possess the same power?”

Ashborn grinned with Hae-In’s face, yet a purple glow outlined her form and her eyes glowed purple, their distance perfectly shadowed her facial features that it appeared ominous. “I’ve been waiting for the day we finally meet for a very long time now. Talking face to face and not through reviewed memories.” The scenery returned back to the void of darkness, and Ashborn appeared in all his glory. “I am the Shadow Monarch. The King of the Dead who rules over the power of death, and the administrator of the deepest part of the darkness.”

“I have a few questions… But the most pressing one is about the Monarch of Void.”

“Eager to return to the Monarch of Void’s side?”

Jinwoo glared at Ashborn, “If what you said was true and this world was made by my desires and your powers combined. Why wasn’t the Monarch of Void present at all? And why, despite taking the forms of so many that have influenced me, did you not take the Monarch of Void’s form?”

Ashborn wondered if he should answer truthfully. He has been watching, so he knew the obsession Jinwoo held when it came to matters concerning you. If he knew the truth of your being, he imagined Jinwoo would be locking you away from the world and his humanity might all be gone. “The Monarch of Void is… A being unlike other Monarchs and the Rulers.” A familiar window displaying your information appeared before Jinwoo. “Notice that the first label in the [Class] section was ‘Space’, as simple as it sounds, the Monarch of Void is space itself. They, she, he, it, have no form to call their, her, his, its own. The Monarch of Void could only appear to you in the flesh and in a solid form because of that vessel. Otherwise… The Monarch of Void will cease to exist in anyone’s memory, just as one would ignore space that covets all.”

“...” This complicated things… No wonder you always have that smoky appearance and never seem to have anything that was solid. “Why… was I chosen? The Monarch of Void said I was a vessel then I was a successor. What game are you playing?”

“I shall show you. Our beginning and end… And also, your beginning.”

Outside, you protected Jinwoo’s form from Sillad and Rakan who have changed their target to you after you had spoken your oath that guaranteed the envisioned future. If you were to die, then there was a chance that that future you speak of wouldn’t come to pass. You long abandoned your human vessel into your realm to be in your true form, even if it’s just a while, you would be invincible against their onslaught. You can’t use much of your powers, but you will be able to fulfil your goal.

“He’s dead for sure, why do you guard that?” Rakan growled.

“I make the final judgment. You stay where you are.” Your misty form resembles that of a snake, your tail curled around the ice and your upper body with a pair of arms with razor-sharp claw at the end of each finger, your eyes glowed and smokey whisps made up your threatening aura. “I will give you a chance. Leave us be.”

Black and purple lightning flashed from the ice, you and the others looked to Jinwoo, finding his right chest burning with a dark purple flame that resembled a heart. Your eyes widened as you realized what you once feared to be happening, now you were glad that Jinwoo was the one to remain even when Ashborn would be gone as a result.

“Don’t tell me…!” Sillad’s jaw clenched as he immediately summoned his spear. 

“No, we can’t let this happen!” Rakan roared as his claws elongated.

We must stop the true King from descending after the fake King has died! The two Monarchs’ thoughts aligned as they came at what you have been protecting. Once the true King descends, the fake is no more and the oath is void, but! A human is still easier to kill than a Monarch!

You briefly wondered if you should send them both into your realm, however, your vessel was left there defendless and you can’t leave Jinwoo alone. You didn’t need to do anything as a third party abruptly appeared and kicked Rakan’s face and knocked him into Sillad whose eyes widened from the unsuspected attack. You forcefully stopped yourself from laughing since this was serious, but you still released a snicker.

The third party landed and stood protectively in front of Jinwoo and indirectly you since you were wrapped around Jinwoo’s ice block. You recognized the golden outline of aura, he wielded daggers, reminding you of Jinwoo’s fighting style, his voice deep and raspy, “From here on, none shall touch this child.”

Note: Sorry about the late posting. Got a bit of work to deal with. Now... Ta da~~ The real power of Reader is revealed!! Too OP? Well, later on, it'll be explained. I hope. Hope you guys enjoyed.

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST *(regarding requests, check the Masterlist to see if it’s opened or not and other info related before sending one. Thanks.)

Taglist: @rozuburedo @ariseverdark @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @stoats-a-dork @daiyanomochi @snowy-violet @sleepyamaya @thetruepair @aixaingela @2021animeandwebtoons @mochinon-yah @rai-xxx @lilliana-14 @larettajudith @r3va-dwme @my-arietta @sikyulioness @sabrina-senpai @bubera974 @weaponxgames @m00n-estelle @beyond-the-stars-fairy @angelkazusstuff @soft-dots @dxprived4-starboys @shineinouzen15 @leviackerman2030 @dxprived4-starboys @darling-dearesttt @bubera974 @maria-trisha @stormnightingale @beyond-the-stars-fairy @notleclerc @fackeraccount @mentaltrouble2201

[liedownquisition]

Ah I see, so you just... don't actually understand that the way you phrase things imply things. Cool. Got it. That explains your own difficulty understanding the text, got it.

Also, no you're not really explaining it, and even if you were no one was asking for that "explanation" in the first place. Read the first post again, you'll notice the operative phrase "a lot of people" and this is specifically directed at things like people who complain/hate on Jason Todd, while adoring other characters who share a lot of significant themes, personality characteristics, and concepts with him.

It also, most 100% definitely says that that dislike is valid? But this is about people and things that complain about Jason for things that are DEFINITELY prevalent also in the characters that they do "stan." Such as Batman, or Huntress, and so on and so forth. It's kind of like this:

Where people prop up their character for doing the same things, which funny thing is usually more common with female characters on the negative end of it so this is a somewhat interesting, if still exhausting, subversion of a very boring and repetitive issue.

Anyways you also missed the part where we both agreed that Jason was an extension of the same philosophy - yes, that even includes the fascist portions. (Bitter even Literally Also Called Jason Fascist). A vast majority of the superhero fantasy at its core cannot exist without some degrees of it, particularly once it starts expanding into the kind of universe DC currently has. Come on, the watchtower? Brother Eye? Are these not sparking red flags in your mind? And who, exactly, is responsible for them?

Batman.

Also, Batman has been called fascist multiple times even in-canon and spin-off properties. Usually by Green Arrow, or in that Blue Beetle movie. They're not wrong, but no one takes Green Arrow seriously about it and the Blue Beetle line was framed as a joke for the audience to laugh at.

-He asked Bruce why he wouldn't, and when Bruce gave his answer he... "accepted" it and asked him to stand by and let him do it himself. If you wanted to illustrate the point of Jason asking Bruce to kill the Joker, maybe you should have picked the pages right before this where he was going on, at length, about the reasons WHY Bruce should have? Instead of the one where he literally said "Fine, I'll do it"? The page that literally says, twice, "You won't kill him, I will." And even then, that speech was less asking him to do it and more condemning him for his choices.

He didn't say "Don't" he said "Won't" the time is long since past for Bruce to be the one to pull that trigger. If he was trying to get Bruce to kill Joker, he didn't try very hard.

-That's fine not to reread, but you're clearly not remembering a lot of it or went into it with such a biased perspective you weren't paying attention (which, you know, it's a bad comic I can't entirely blame people from missing things. But again, at least hate things accurately?). Kori had more character and development than Roy did, actually. At least in the parts Lobdell wrote. I still haven't decided how to classify Tynion's portion of that mess. It gives me a headache.

-I never said Jason was a better Batman, I said that his ideals of "wanting to be a better Batman" means that his ultimate motivation is just an extremist version of Bruce's own. Once again: that means that if Batman is a fascist, then so is Jason. Albeit one that operates outside the overarching fascist system Bruce aligns with and attempts to build his own, equally flawed system

-Do you realize how many poor people literally kill themselves to get out of medical debt because they cannot find work and see themselves as just burdens to themselves and sometimes their families? Do you know how common it is for people to realize they need expensive medical care and ask their families to let them die instead for the same reason and how that's not really that far off from killing yourself for it? Do you even understand how much poor people who can't afford insurance just don't go to the hospital and die of preventable/fixable things because they're afraid of medical bills? Have you been paying no attention whatsoever to how even with insurance it's a huge issue to not get medical care because it gets denied and would be too expensive without it which is a RELEVANT and RECENT topic of concern?

It's still a death, it's just one that you can pretend didn't spiral from the initial incident. Slow, and agonizing, and you're going to suffer and know what caused it the whole way while Batman remains blissfully ignorant of his responsibility in your suffering.

And, with regards to your tags: Hi! Not only Have I been affected by organized crime, My family was part of, and torn apart by it. Speaking of putting words in our mouths, when did we say it was okay for him to kill "bad poor people"? We didn't. And Bruce Beating and Throwing "bad poor people" in jail doesn't help their families either! I've said it before but if Bruce was paying attention to the families of the criminals he & the system he supports put in jail and doing anything about it, chances are Jason wouldn't have ended up homeless in the first place!

"It's okay to prey on addicts as long as they're not kids" we ALSO didn't say that but do you know what happens when you cut addicts off cold turkey? I've known people who were in so much pain from the cravings that they were tearing out their hair and chunks of their scalp and digging their nails into their arms so hard they bled. I have known people who had seizures during withdrawals and hit their head going down and died because no one knew it was happening. I have known people who got arrested and thrown in jail and died in their cells because they were left to go through the withdrawals with no assistance.

Cutting the drug lines entirely isn't the answer, either. Preventing them from getting more kids hooked on drugs is the bare minimum. It's not an endpoint, it's a beginning.

To be honest I think that a lot of people who share the anti Jason Todd sentiment don't even actually hate Jason. I think a lot of them hate what he forces the narrative to do.

Jason forces the subversion of the hero genre -- he's the single, most extreme proof that Batman's hero fantasy wouldn't be effective in real life, and therefore Jason showing up can take you out of the universe really fast really hard. A lot of people are here for what comics are meant to offer, the one man hero fantasy that makes you Feel Good, and Jason showing up doesn't Allow you to enjoy it! And if that's the case, you're completely justified in not liking Jason, he takes you out of the thing you enjoy.

I think a lot of you don't actually find his personality or acts annoying in of themselves, you just hate what those actions do to the genre itself. And I think once you realize that and start looking at comics like actual pieces of literature, Jason and shitty comics both will become a lot less rage inducing to you.

[n1k0laa5]

✧ ･ﾟINTRODUCTION ･ﾟ✧

☽𓂃⋆⁺₊ hello helloooo my little pixel-dusted darlings, reality-skippers, god-babies and deities in training!!!

you’ve just stumbled… or maybe manifested? channeled? saw it in a dream? felt the pull in your solar plexus—into a corner of the internet where your human suit will probably glitch, your sense of self will start peeling like glitter stickers off a foggy mirror, and your concept of “reality” might just cry a little in the backroom,, teehee.

anywayzzz hi. I’m Nikolas. it means Victory of the People and i always gloat abt it. You can call me any version of my name, srsly, Nikk, Niko, Nikki, idrc ;3

You may have seen my posts recently as I’ve been a lurker on tumblr for a while and decided to just post a bit, then realized “woah, people like this” so here’s my introduction! yes, i may sound slightly different compared to my post cuz i’ve dialed down the seriousness lolll

🪞— i’m part hyper-child that’ll bite your ankles, part god, part tired teenager scribbling affirmations in the margins of existence and screaming motivation at you.

14 years on this planet—15 soon, so clap for me on july okay?? i want confetti and cupcakes with existential sprinkles.

i was already an open minded child and lived in my imagination most my life—so finding manifesting and shifting felt like it was FOR me. i’ve been shifting since 2022, have shifted before and i think i started manifesting since i was like, nine, before i even knew what that meant. i was just like “if i imagine i give off queen bee vibes.. it works?!” It was mostly appearance and family related things I manifested, I created from nothing like it was breathing.

and now? now i do it on purpose.

🎠 — this blog is a playground for the formless. a candyland of divine chaos. a metaphysical scrapbook for weird little gods with glittery fingers and notebooks full of spells that rhyme with their heartbreaks.

i talk about manifestation, law of assumption, reality shifting, the void, dreams, non-physical planes, quantum stuff but like… cute. i probably cried on the floor last week but still channeled something celestial the same night. duality is real. i am the contradiction.

🧸 — i’m everything and nothing all at once.

you’ll either feel me like static electricity in your chest

or not at all.

and that’s okay too.

🪐 — i don’t care what gods you believe in, if you kneel when you pray, or if you think tarot is a scam and the universe is just a rock. i will however keep spreading my belief that you are god so if u don’t like that then.. sorry:(

i’ve been through stuff. i’m an ex-muslim, Iraqi, bisexual child with more trauma than folders in my google drive. i’m soft and electric. i’m a little delusional. i’m learning how to laugh at the dream while still dreaming it.

and you?

you’re here.

that means you’re ready. or maybe just curious.

either way, stay. plz.

𖤐 okok wait—wait. don’t scroll yet. i’m not done being mysterious in an attention seeking way

𓆩𖤐𓆪 FUN (???) FACTS ABOUT ME

☞ i have a tiktok account 4 shifting! (shiftingwithniko,, yes, shameless promo.) but i’m not rlly active there anymore bc we all know how shiftok is..

☞ i am SO shit at keeping friends so if we’re moots, expect very awkward talks.

☞ i’m too emotionally cooked to stay in this dimension but I’ll try my best to get out constant posts for y’all..

☞ too many drs, too many ideas, too many hopes and dreams, but aren’t we all like this

✧:˚🫀 MY GENERAL VIBES:

— i’m the kind of person who will walk into a room like i invented existence and then immediately spiral about if i said “hi” weird

— i have main character syndrome and background character syndrome at the exact same time. how? don’t ask. i just do.

— sometimes i say stuff like “i’m literally god” and then trip over air and cry about my tone sounding weird when i ordered food.

— i’m a walking contradiction and that’s the POINT. like. i will scream at the sky to bend for me, and then cry because my hair isn’t doing the thing i wanted.

— i wanna sit on a cloud and giggle but also punch god in the throat and become him.

☾⋆｡𖦹°‧ my personality.. yay..

a child god who’s a little too aware.

like, i KNOW too much for someone who still gets sparkly-eyed over stickers and wears fuzzy socks while rewriting timelines.

i call it Divine Hyper Teen Boy Delusion (™ pending.)

pretty sure i change personalities every week and have an identity crisis like thrice a month

⚠️ — i’m not here to convince you of anything.

i’m just here to remind you that you’re not crazy for feeling like you were meant for more.

you were. you are. and you already are it.

🍬 THINGS I BELIEVE IN:

— manifestation (all methods; LOASS, LOA, etc)

— shifting

— subliminals

— astral projection

— you are god

so yeah.

stay divine, pretty souls.

don’t forget to script. or not, ur choice!

drink water (or stardust).

and remember, if reality acts up?

Make a new one.

— with shaky hands & glittering neurons, Nikolas, your neighborhood hypermanifestor, glitter prophet, & certified timeline menace

pspsps you’re cute & you deserve a dream that kisses you back.

[olgasaysso]

The apothecary diaries made me realize something very interesting about how women perceive power...

I can't be the only one who noticed that in stories written by women power is often compared to a prison or a cage meanwhile in the ones written by men it's mostly fun and freedom.

It is that women tend to see power as more of an responsibility and men think of it as the ability to do whatever they want?

The apothecary diaries made me think of it first. I discovered with surprise that I actually like the emperor, which I almost never do. Any guy that has relationship with more than one woman at once tends to disgust me, especially if he's in a position of power but for some reason not him.

Because the emperor is as much a prisoner as the 2000 women in the rear palace. Maybe even more because as long as he doesn't touch them, they're allowed to leave.

Like on one hand, he's the most powerful man in the empire. He calls the shots, right?

But on the other hand, he can't even properly protect Lishu from being sold to some pedofile by her father. The only way he could protect her was to make her his concubine and how f*cked up is that? She's like a daughter to him and the only way he could protect her was by marrying her? And then he couldn't even spend time with her anymore because that would be read wrong.

It's the fact that 3 of his children died because there was no proper medic to save them due to the fact that they don't allow non eunuchs to treat them and forbid women practicing medicine... when he doesn't even care about that. He hasn't blinked once at Maomao running around the inner palace and being a doctor.

At first when I was watching the story I thought of how horrible it was that he didn't even visit Lady Lihua after their son died. But then it made me think of how he's literally not allowed to get attached because of his position and how hard it is for him? The fact that he couldn't even provide enough support for Lady Ah-Duo so she doesn't lose her uterus? The fact that she switched their baby with his brother and he had to watch his son grow up "away" from him?

There's so much more to this, especially with Jinshis approach to power and I could go on an on but I think I made my point.

And when I started comparing the stories written by women to those by men... Women tend to write power as more of a burden than a gift.

After watching TAD I watched solo leveling.

And for those of you who don't know, it's basically a story about a guy who suddenly "discovers" that he's like a character in a game (not exactly but it's be too long to explain) and basically finds out that he has endless potential and over the course of the story he becomes the most powerful being in the entire universe.

And there's a moment where he's talking to his little sisters friend that gets very misread as something inappropriate by another character.

This other character points out, kindly, to Sung Jinwoo that the girl is a minor.

Sun Jinwoo doesn't understand so he just looks at him and asks "so?".

And so the guy immediately gets scared and never mentions it again despite the two of them being friends.

This moment is kind of played for laughs. Nothing actually happened, Sung Jinwoo is a good guy so he wouldn't.

But he could. Nobody could do anything to stop him.

And when I watched that I laughed too. But then I thought of how terrifying that is. To have someone be so above the law, this untouchable. Who can do anything he pleases because no one will ever stop him.

But that's never actually adressed in the show other than to show us how cool this is.

It this was written by Natsu Hyūga there'd probably be a million different situations to show us how fucked up this is and how it weighs on the main character.

In the apothecary diaries Jinshi doesn't even want to ask anything directly of Maomao because he doesn't want her to interpret it as an order.

[lucysarah1875]

Author ma'am please give us some MS spoilers, HCs, deleted scenes, ideas, incorrect quotes, memes, etc. Anything, any crumb, we're starving 😔🙏

Hi love HAHAHA I actually haven't written almost anything lately, I just today got down to write a little bit for the first time in months! So eh, MS Spoiler? I guess? more like a silly scene:

“How do you know so many songs?” Armin asked, almost offended at being outdone.

“It’s called being jobless,” Jean quipped, but judging by the look on her face, she didn’t find that one particularly funny.

“No,” she pouted, “I used to take art classes near the university in Stohess, and the students played a lot of the songs from the downtown bars.”

The group let out a low, unified hum of understanding. All of them being country folk, they couldn’t really compete with the kind of cultural exposure Capital kids had.

“I didn’t know you were from the Capital!” she pointed out, her eyes lighting up, eager to gather any crumbs of information about her husband.

Levi, however, shut it down flatly, “I’m not.”

She frowned, confused — a mix between a pout and a scowl.

“I thought maybe you went to those bars,” Armin picked up the conversation, sparing her the awkward moment. “We wanted to go the last time we were in the Capital, but… they ask for more age.”

That caught her attention instantly. “Oh! I always wanted to go too! The girls that come out of there have the prettiest shiny little dresses, and they’re always laughing so much! I bet they have so much fun dancing!”

There was a short, puzzled silence from Armin before he asked, “And… why didn’t you just go?”

“Oh no,” she replied with the firm resolution of someone who had never even considered the possibility, “Those places aren’t for girls like me… imagine what people would say.”

It was painfully obvious she was holding back from repeating that idea the way she’d heard it growing up. Words like “whores”, “easy”, “common” probably floated around in her household whenever those bars came up. Levi, hearing that, shot an askance glance over his shoulder to check her expression.

“But the girls I met in Trost invited me! And now that I’m married, it shouldn’t be an issue,” she added, suddenly so excited it was like the gates of heaven had opened before her. “Right, Levi?”

“Huh?” Levi half-turned in his saddle as they kept riding, raising a single eyebrow, clearly unimpressed that the question was even asked.

“That I can go to those bars now.”

Levi’s response was immediate, flat, and left no room for argument. “Don’t even dream of it.”

Her face went from bright enthusiasm to sheer indignation in a second. “And why not?!” she protested. “Are you seriously siding with my family on this?”

To be fair, using Levi’s very public disdain for her family’s political circle to her advantage was a little shady — but strategic.

“Tch.” Still leading the group, he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “It’s got nothing to do with them. I don’t care what anyone does with their free time. You’re not going because women aren’t allowed alone — and I’d have to go with you.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Like Sophia goes with Flegel. And Lina with her brother.”

“Exactly.”

A long silence followed.

“… I don’t see the problem,” she muttered under her breath.

“I’m not dragging myself to some humid, piss-stinking bar, sitting in a corner all night while drunk idiots blast music, puke on the floor, and grind on each other.”

“You could dance with me,” she offered sweetly, flashing him a bright, persuasive smile.

The look Levi shot her over his shoulder was answer enough.

“Oh, come on! Please! I really want to!”

“And I want a better salary,” Levi replied dryly. “Life’s disappointing, doll face.”

She pouted, crossing her arms. “I’ll make you change your mind,” she mumbled defiantly. “I can be very convincing.”

“Your optimism is… endearing,” Levi replied, completely deadpan.

“You don’t sound very endeared.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

At that, Jean nudged his horse a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “Hey, quick heads-up — if you domanage to soften him up, let us know, yeah? We’ve been trying to get him to ease up on the cleaning rota for years. Zero success.”

Meanwhile, Levi muttered something under his breath that only the wind caught, “… as if this shit works out like it’s supposed to, by the time we’re back for you to go to a bar, you’ll be knocked up already.” I missed these two tbh haha

[circledwithaheart]

Tease Tidbit WIP WedTuesday

tagged by the lovely and talented @mangonadaeddie (space fic my most beloved), my amazing wife @bidisasterevankinard (<-- who successfully defended her paper for graduation today btw 😌)

so! *84 years later* i'm posting ch 2 tomorrow(!!!). everybody clap for me lol Seems like a good opportunity to self-promote a lil beforehand 🧜‍♂️

some sweet

“Really?! That’s-” Evan forcefully exhales, like he’s trying to appear calmer. It doesn’t help. Eddie thinks it’s adorable. “I would love that.” “Me too.” He adds, “I assume I won’t be interrupting fish university or anything important like that.” Evan’s laugh catches him off guard, loud and boisterous and stupidly infectious to the point Eddie can’t help but join in.  Stay, stay, stay.  “Can’t say we’re that fancy, Eds.” He suddenly frowns, knitting his brows together. “That’s not something from that mermaid movie is it?” Now it’s Eddie’s turn to burst into laughter, howling until he’s wiping tears away. “I can’t believe you’re still salty about The Little Mermaid.” “It's offensive!” Evan squawks indignantly.  “Oh, so you’ve seen it then?” “I-”  “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

and bittersweet

Evan watches Eddie leave. Watches as he squares his shoulders only for them to fall again. As he becomes smaller and smaller and- Eddie stops, just past the end of the pier.  He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but his breath catches and he hopes anyway.  His heart whispers ‘turn around’ and ‘please’ and ‘stay, stay, stay.’

  Eddie starts walking again.

np tagging @diazsdimples @daffi-990 @stereopticons @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @bloodthirstybuckley @wildfluorescent @tizniz @diazheartsbuckley @midsummersmorn @spotsandsocks @theotherbuckley @your-catfish-friend @thekristen999 @aoubooming @wikiangela @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @greencreekwolf @gayjoshrusso @dr-shortsighted-owl @bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck @beyourownanchor6 @lavenderleahy @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @thelikesofus @wildlife4life @eowon @rewritetheending @spaceprincessem @bekkachaos @honestlydarkprincess @panikkarscurls @lovetommyactually @transryanguzman @hyperfocusthusly @loucifersbitch and anyone else who wants to😘

[actuallybean]

Cupid's Shuffle* | Part Four

Cupid’s arrow was supposed to patch things up with Sam, not point you straight at Castiel—and resisting it might just be harder than falling. *Contains sexual material, slow-burn, brief mentioning of a past relationship with Sam Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader(former), Castiel x Reader (Eventually), Dean Winchester x Reader (Platonic) Part Five Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @this-is-me--1998 @scary-noodlesblog @ratkidcalledallie @fox-saturn @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @otteropera @st0rmzi3 Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The bunker’s common room was dipped in low, amber light—faint flickers spilling from the ancient sconces and the bluish glow of a movie long forgotten. Some grainy romantic comedy played on the television across the room, filled with stilted kisses and overdramatic orchestral swells, but neither of you had paid attention in what felt like hours. Not really.

You and Castiel sat on the bunker couch, the world folded small and quiet around the two of you.

Your knees brushed. Then your shoulders. Your arms had gravitated toward each other like the space between you physically offended the laws of nature. And now, his hand sat on the cushion beside yours—unmoving but not idle. The edge of his pinky just barely kissed your own, like the air between your skin had begun to blur, like even stillness wasn’t still enough.

And you were watching him. Or maybe studying was a better word. Like you’d never really seen him before, not the way you were seeing him now. He was all angles and furrowed brows and celestial intensity, but there was a softness to him now. Something unfurled. Open. Vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure you’d ever seen—not even in battle. Not even when he bled.

It felt like your heart was shifting in your chest. Like it had just remembered something your brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

Castiel turned his head toward you, slow and deliberate, his blue eyes glowing faintly in the low light. His brow furrowed slightly, that familiar tilt of confusion and awe. And then, in that solemn, gravel-soft voice that could slice through silence like divine static, he said:

“I never noticed before. Your eyes are… remarkably large.”

You blinked, taken off-guard. “My… eyes?”

He nodded seriously, the way someone might deliver a weather report or diagnose a metaphysical rupture. “Yes. Like an owl’s. Or a particularly alert forest creature. In a flattering way, of course.”

You couldn’t help it—your laugh bubbled out, unbidden and breathy. “That’s… the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.”

Castiel’s face softened, not quite a smile, but a reverent sort of stillness that made you feel like the universe had paused to listen.

“They hold so much,” he murmured. “Your grief. Your fire. The light when you laugh.”

Your chest stuttered, breath catching somewhere between a gasp and a heartbeat. “Cas…”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You are very beautiful.”

It wasn’t just the words. It was the way he said them—like truth, like scripture, like something carved into the stone walls of time. Like he’d been waiting several millennia for the right moment to speak them aloud. Like this wasn’t something he’d just realized, but something he’d always known, just never dared to say.

You smiled, wide and helpless and maybe a little stupid. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”

“I feel…” he paused, eyes narrowing slightly, as if he could reach into the cosmos and pluck the perfect word. “Drawn. To you. Like you are the sun and I am—well. I suppose I am the angel.”

You burst into laughter again—louder this time, ungraceful and giddy. “That was either the most poetic thing I’ve ever heard or the corniest line in human history.”

His expression twitched, pride blooming in the smallest, faintest upward pull of his lips. As if corniness was something he’d wear like a badge. He looked pleased. You loved that he looked pleased.

And then, without even thinking, your hand drifted toward his. Fingertips ghosting over the back of his palm, brushing warmth into his skin like a secret. He didn’t flinch. If anything, he leaned in a little closer—barely, but enough to tilt the whole world with it.

There was a quiet there. Not silence. Something deeper. Charged. The kind of quiet that follows confessions or miracles. The kind of quiet that tastes like the moment before a kiss.

And then—

“Y/N.”

Your name shattered the air like a glass bell dropped on stone.

You turned. Sam stood in the archway.

He wasn’t angry—not exactly. But there was something crumbling behind his eyes. Fragile and fraying, like someone trying very hard not to bleed in front of people. Arms crossed. Mouth drawn tight. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled beats, like each breath cost him something.

Castiel sat back slightly, the moment between you hiccupping. You didn’t move your hand. Neither did he.

“Sam,” you said softly. You didn’t let go. You didn’t even think to.

His jaw ticked. “Can I talk to you?” His voice cracked, almost imperceptibly. “Alone.”

You looked at Castiel, who looked at you like he didn’t want to leave but would, if you asked. Always, if you asked.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, quiet as candlelight. But his gaze lingered.

When he was gone, Sam stepped closer. The shadows shifted around him.

“What’s going on with you two?”

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I don’t know. It’s like… something changed. I can’t stop looking at him. It’s not just attraction. It’s—like I’ve known him for a thousand years.”

Sam exhaled like you’d punched the air from his lungs.

“Yeah,” he said. “Dean told me.”

You froze. “Told you what?”

He didn’t look at you when he said it. “About the love potion.”

The air left your lungs. “What?”

“He wanted to fix us. He went to Cupid. Got some kind of magical… nudge. Slipped it into our drinks. It was supposed to be me and you.”

You stared at him.

“But Castiel drank my cup.”

And suddenly, everything tilted. The warmth. The ache. The way your hand had found his like instinct. You wanted to call it fake, scream that none of it was real—but how could it feel so true if it wasn’t?

“No,” you said, your voice fragile. “No, that’s not—Cas and I, we’ve always had—something. This didn’t come out of nowhere.”

“I know,” Sam said, stepping forward, expression drawn. “But maybe the potion just… turned up the volume. Made you see it. Hear it. Feel it.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“I miss you,” Sam whispered. “After that hunt—I should’ve fought for us. I didn’t. And now I see the way you look at him like he’s gravity and you’ve just remembered how to fall.”

You looked at him then. At his tired eyes. The scar near his lip. The weight in his shoulders. You remembered long nights curled into him, slow laughter in motel beds, quiet I love yous whispered into the dark.

And still, Castiel’s presence echoed through your bloodstream. Like stardust. Like home.

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” you whispered.

Sam nodded, voice gentle. “Then I’ll wait. For the spell to wear off. For you. But I had to say it. Because if you choose him… I needed to know I tried.”

He left without another word, the space where he stood colder now.

You stood there, shaking.

And then—slowly—you turned and walked to the kitchen.

✦

The bunker’s kitchen was awash in the soft glow of overhead incandescent light—warm, golden, too gentle for the storm brewing in your chest. The glow pooled across the stone counters and metal drawers, bouncing off cast-iron pans and half-washed dishes, like it was trying to convince you the world was still safe. Familiar.

It wasn’t.

The air smelled faintly of cinnamon, scorched sugar, and something slightly singed—remnants of your earlier culinary catastrophe with Castiel. You’d been elbow-deep in flour and overly poetic metaphors when Sam’s voice had cut into the moment like a guillotine.

Now you stood in the doorway, the warmth of the kitchen colliding with the cold edge of reality.

And there he was.

Castiel.

He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up to his elbows like a man preparing for battle, though the only casualty before him was the collapsed soufflé. The poor thing had caved in the center like a dying star, crust golden and sunken, like it had tried its best before quietly giving up on existence.

You might’ve laughed if your heart wasn’t tangled in your throat.

He hadn’t noticed you yet. His head was bowed, brow furrowed in quiet concentration as he prodded the middle of the ruined dessert with a spatula, like it might whisper its secrets if he just listened closely enough. The picture was so absurdly domestic—an angel of the Lord, armed with egg whites and confusion—that your stomach twisted around itself.

Then he looked up. Not turned. Not heard. Sensed.

Because of course he did. He always did.

“You returned,” Castiel said simply, like you’d only stepped out for a moment. His voice was soft, grounding, full of something strange and steady.

Your breath caught. “Of course I did.”

His posture changed so subtly it would’ve gone unnoticed by anyone else—but not you. You saw the slackening of his shoulders, the way his eyes gentled like a tide drawing back from the shore. Like seeing you had righted something crooked in him.

You took a step inside. Then another. The floor beneath your boots creaked ever so slightly, and Castiel’s gaze didn’t leave yours. It held you there, pinned but not trapped. Like gravity, but softer.

“I was unsure,” he said after a pause. “Sam looked… distressed.”

Your throat tightened. “He was.”

The silence between you swelled again—not uncomfortable, but too full. Like the walls couldn’t hold it all.

Castiel glanced back down at the soufflé. “I believe we’ve failed.”

You smiled, watery. “I think it was doomed from the start.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing like the word doomed didn’t quite compute. “It collapsed. But it smelled pleasant. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

You stepped closer, close enough to smell the faint traces of ozone and clean laundry that always clung to him, even after baking. “Yeah,” you said softly. “It counts.”

And just like before—just like every time—it was there again. That magnetic pull. That ache beneath your skin. His eyes on your lips. Your hand nearly brushing his on the counter.

The air shifted.

Then—

“Okay, nope. Nope. This is worse than I thought.”

You jumped, turning toward the sound of Dean’s voice as he strode into the kitchen like a man walking into a live electrical wire. Behind him came the tap-tap of impossibly expensive heels and the perfume of something equal parts enchantment and ego.

Rowena.

“Oh, how precious,” Rowena drawled, sliding into the room with a grin sharp enough to cut glass. Her gaze swept over you and Castiel with theatrical delight, lingering on the proximity between your bodies like she was reading the climax of a particularly juicy romance novel. “Did I interrupt a little post-soufflé snogging?”

You blinked. “There was no snogging.”

“Not yet,” Castiel said, completely straight-faced.

Dean choked mid-step like someone had sucker-punched him. “Jesus, Cas!”

“What?” Castiel blinked, utterly guileless. “That’s the term Rowena used. Was I not supposed to agree?”

Rowena clasped her hands together, positively beaming. “Oh, I like him more under this enchantment. He’s downright cheeky.”

Dean looked between the three of you like he’d stumbled into a live-action soap opera with no exits. “Alright, listen. This... this thing? Whatever the hell is happening here? We need to pump the brakes.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “We didn’t do anything.”

“Yet,” Castiel added again, a touch too helpfully.

Dean physically winced. “You gotta stop saying that, man.”

Before the tension could spiral—or ignite—Sam appeared in the doorway. His tall frame filled the entryway like a thundercloud with shoulders. His arms were crossed. His face was unreadable.

But the temperature dropped ten degrees.

“Dean,” he said tightly, “can I talk to you?”

Dean glanced at you, then at Sam, then back at Castiel—whose expression hadn’t changed from celestial adoration. He looked like a man bracing for impact. “Hey, listen—if this is about the potion, let’s just remember we’re all adults here. Mostly. Somewhat.”

“Dean,” Sam said again, voice like steel wrapped in exhaustion.

“Okay, okay,” Dean muttered, backing out like a man caught cheating at Monopoly. “We’ll talk. But just know this wasn’t supposed to go full Shakespeare.”

“Darling,” Rowena chimed, swirling her scotch, “you dosed drinks with divine pheromones. Of course it went full Shakespeare. I’m simply waiting for the mistaken identities and someone to fall dramatically off a balcony.”

Castiel blinked at her. “Is that part of the spell?”

You covered your mouth to hide the laugh bubbling in your throat.

Dean muttered, “I hate magic,” and disappeared down the hall with Sam trailing behind like a storm in flannel.

You were left standing with Castiel and Rowena—the angel and the witch—both staring at you like you were the final act in a romantic tragedy they were both too amused to stop.

“I assume you’ve told her,” Rowena said mildly, turning toward Castiel with an arched brow.

“Told me what?” you asked, pulse skipping.

“That the… intense emotional tether you’re both experiencing,” she said, “is the result of a mild—very mild—amorous enchantment. Hardly dangerous. Think of it like emotional kindling. Just enough to light a fire that was already struggling to spark.”

Castiel furrowed his brow. “Dean said it was coffee.”

You stared at the floor. “And mine was tea.”

Rowena chuckled, lifting her glass. “Not unless your tea glows rose-gold under candlelight.”

The room spun slightly.

“You’re saying this isn’t real?” you whispered. “That what I feel—it’s… it’s just some magical suggestion?”

“Not quite,” she said, tone softening. “Magic like this doesn’t create love. It reveals it. Speeds it up, yes, but it only magnifies what’s already there. Think of it as a truth serum for the soul, darling.”

You turned slowly toward Castiel. He was still holding the spatula, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands, but his eyes were anything but lost.

“I don’t want to lose this,” he said, quietly. Earnestly. Like he wasn’t just speaking to you—but for you.

You stared at him. Open. Shaken. Bare.

And then, of course—

Dean barreled back into the kitchen, hands raised, a look of resignation on his face. “Okay, we have a problem.”

Sam followed behind him. His face was the same—calm, unreadable—but his eyes burned with something old. Something unresolved.

“You good?” you asked softly.

Sam looked at you, and for a moment, the weight of a hundred memories passed between you. Years. Hunts. Secrets. Love.

“I’m peachy,” he said, voice flat. A lie with perfect posture.

Rowena clapped her hands. “This is all delightfully messy.”

Dean glared at her. “You are not helping.”

“I never claimed I would.”

You turned back to Castiel, your voice soft. “So… what happens now?”

His answer came without hesitation.

“I don’t know. But I want to be near you while we figure it out.”

It hit you like a song you hadn’t known you’d been humming for years. You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or kiss him. Or all three.

Sam shifted behind you. Dean sighed.

Rowena looked positively thrilled. “Oh, we are absolutely headed for a third act climax. I can feel it.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is gonna end with someone crying in a broom closet. I just know it.”

And in the kitchen full of cinnamon, flour, broken soufflés, and the weight of three hearts pulling in different directions—there was you.

Stuck between past and future.

And Castiel, still holding the spatula like a love letter he hadn’t figured out how to send.

✦

The hallway outside the kitchen was long and dim, stretched with shadows that shifted with every flicker of the antique sconces mounted along the stone walls. That familiar amber glow—more ghostly than golden—bathed everything in the half-light of memory and misstep. The kind of light that made the Men of Letters bunker feel less like a sanctuary and more like a crypt, full of the dead weight of things unsaid.

Dean leaned against the wall, one boot kicked up behind him, arms crossed like a man bracing for a punch he knew he deserved. His face was set, jaw tight, brow creased—but his stance betrayed the tension coiled beneath. He looked like he wanted to light a cigarette, throw a punch, and apologize all at once.

He didn’t speak first.

Because he knew better.

Sam’s boots hit the hallway floor with the force of a gavel. Each step was heavy. Sharp. A metronome of judgment. He paced once, up and down the length of the corridor, shoulders rolling with barely restrained tension. When he finally turned to face his brother, his eyes were already burning.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

The words weren’t shouted—but they didn’t need to be. Sam’s voice was low, controlled, and dangerous. That quiet fury he only pulled out when he was truly shaken.

Dean didn’t flinch. But he didn’t push back either.

“It wasn’t a drug,” Dean said finally, eyes fixed on the floor between them. “It was a love potion. From Cupid. Harmless.”

Sam let out a short, bitter laugh that cracked on the exhale. “Oh, harmless, right. Yeah, because it’s totally harmless watching the girl I’m still in love with giggle like Castiel just reinvented the goddamn concept of humor.”

Dean glanced up, a brow twitching. “Come on, man. Cas made a soufflé joke. That’s not exactly Shakespearean sonnet territory.”

Sam’s eyes flashed. “Dean,” he said, voice catching, “he called her his emotional constant.”

That landed like a stone to the chest.

Dean looked away. “...Shit.”

Sam dragged a hand through his hair, pacing again, faster now. “Do you even understand what that means to someone like him? What it felt like to hear that and watch her smile like she’s been waiting for him to say it her whole damn life?”

Dean pushed off the wall, starting to pace in the opposite direction, mirroring his brother like they were orbiting the same gravity. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“But it did.”

“I was trying to fix it, Sam,” Dean snapped, guilt fraying at the edges of his voice. “You and her—man, you were both ghosts. You’d walk through rooms like you didn’t exist in the same timeline. I thought maybe—hell, I hoped—that if you just talked…”

He trailed off, hands fisting at his sides. “I thought maybe you’d find your way back to each other.”

“You didn’t trust me to do it myself.”

Dean stilled.

Sam’s voice softened—but it cut deeper for it. “You didn’t think I could fix it. You thought I’d screw it up. Again.”

Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like he could erase the guilt etched into it. “That’s not what this is.”

“Isn’t it?” Sam asked. “You saw me fall apart when we broke up. You saw how I handled it. And I know I messed it up. I do. I was distant. I let the job come first again. I let her think she wasn’t enough. That’s on me.”

His voice cracked. Just a hairline fracture—but it was enough.

“But trying to shortcut it with a damn potion? That’s not helping, Dean. That’s cheating.”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He looked like he wanted to argue. To deflect. But there was no easy out here. No demon to punch. No hunt to distract them.

Just heartbreak.

“I wasn’t trying to cheat,” Dean muttered. “I was desperate. You think I liked watching you like that? Watching her like that? You both looked like hell. It was like living in a pressure cooker of things neither of you wanted to say. I thought… maybe a little push would help.”

Sam’s laughter was hollow, scraped raw from somewhere behind his ribs. “So your big solution was supernatural matchmaking? This isn’t a CW reboot of Love, Actually, Dean. This is real.”

Dean finally snapped his eyes back up, something flaring behind them. “He wasn’t supposed to drink it.”

Sam flinched.

“But he did,” Sam ground out. “And now he’s… looking at her like she’s the last starlight left in the world. Like she’s his salvation. And worse? She’s looking back.”

Dean went quiet.

Sam’s pacing slowed. His hands dropped to his sides, limp. “They used to be friends. Close, yeah, but just friends. And now they’re… orbiting each other. Like they forgot I ever existed.”

Dean shifted, rubbed the back of his neck. “You really think it’s just the potion?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

And then, Sam’s voice came—hushed. Broken.

“I don’t know.”

He swallowed hard. “And that’s what’s eating me alive. I don’t know if it’s just the magic. Or if it’s him. If it’s always been him. And I was just… a rest stop she mistook for home.”

Dean’s shoulders dropped like he’d been struck.

“You were never a layover,” he said quietly.

Sam didn’t look at him. “Maybe not to you.”

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. It sat between them like something tangible—an old, familiar grief neither of them had the right words for.

Dean finally pushed off the wall. “Rowena’s working on a reversal. Something to neutralize it. Clear the air.”

Sam nodded, but it was slow. Hesitant. “Good.”

“But, Sam…”

Dean hesitated. The words were difficult, but he forced them out.

“What if she still looks at him like that? After the spell wears off?”

Sam’s lips pressed into a hard line. His throat bobbed with the weight of all the answers he couldn’t bear to say.

“Then I guess we’ll know.”

Dean studied his brother. Not just the expression—but the way he held himself. Shoulders too tight, fists clenched, chest rising too fast. The heartbreak was right there. Barely held in check. And beneath it?

Still love. Still hope.

“You still love her?” Dean asked.

Sam’s jaw tensed. He didn’t answer immediately. He looked away—toward the kitchen door. Toward you. Then back at the ground. Then up.

And there it was.

“Every damn day.”

Dean exhaled slowly. “Then don’t fight him. Or the spell. Or me.”

He stepped forward, eyes firm.

“Fight for her. Remind her who you are.”

For a long beat, Sam just stared.

And then, behind the grief, behind the pain… something sparked. Not rage. Not jealousy. But something sharper. Steadier.

A flicker of will.

A pulse of hope.

And Dean, for the first time since this whole disaster started, allowed himself a breath.

Because maybe—just maybe—there was still time to undo what magic had accelerated.

But only if truth was louder than the spell.

[shadows-shells]

Semifinals next!

shoutout to 03!Raph, Rise!Leo must be so tired now after THIS particular turtle RIGHT AFTER 03!Mike 😂 Brutal round. We lost half the 03! team 🥲

87!Don giving out autographs is SENDING me 😂 u just know he is blowing air-kisses to the crowds right after the match 😂 while 03!Leo just stands there and. um. tries not to laugh 😂 

Mirage!Raph hate-watching all those matches 🤣 "i can defn take Archie!Raphael wtf"

Then he and Rise!Donnie meet eyes across the stadium and hiss at each other 😂03!Mike defn noticed and grins a Joker's grin at Mirage!Raph 😂 

semifinalists! Rise!Leon, Archie!Raphael, 03!Leo and Mirage!Leo

...one of these is not like the others 🤣 

...i rly don't know enough abt the Archie series to judge if he is actl a better fighter than Leon - and i doubt Leon will just roll over - but it would be funny. If. Archie Raph somehow took him out 🤣

Truthfully i think out of them, Leon is the one having the least fun and feeling the most pressure. 

Archie!Raph is upbeat from a friendly match with IDW!Mike and enjoying showing off his costume(s) to the crowd. 

Mirage!Leo just doesn't give a single flying eff; he has been making lots of friends and eaten 2 rounds of delicious ice-cream 😂 

03!Leo had a good, satisfying match with the Jumbo Turtle, is so proud of all his brothers' matches, AND he can gracefully take even the Ninja Tribunal's harsh criticism just to rise as a dragon from the ashes. He knows his worth. 

Not to say - all three of them have ALL their bros wholeheartedly and unreservedly cheering them on, no drama or secrets there 😆 

i don't envy Leon. Either way - if he wins, he is going to have to face a quintessential Leonardo. 

These two simply never made the mistakes he made (never will), or have already long mastered the flaws and insecurities Leon is only now facing. 

Leon's matured with the 2022 film and yes his ego can now take the idea of an older, more experienced, cooler, braver, kinder and more resilient (a simply better) Leonardo...but who knows how his self-esteem is doing 😬

Esp the OG - who's so self-assured in his place in the world that he is truly chill about everything. He can both go get icecream and pwn all his matches. 

Leon only wishes he could care that little and still win. 

(He can't. Even the Mikey of another team, the supposed baby of the family in his own universe, nearly got him. And he nearly couldn't outpsych even their Raphael, the supposed impulsive plan-less hothead in his own universe. This is Leon's first experience with other turtles, and it must be sobering.)

Because..."How come nobody trusts me? None of you guys have any faith in me. Why?" -

Is just not a sentence either Mirage!Leo or 03!Leo would say or even think. 

Ever. In 1000 years. 

(2k3 esp as a series is far more about plot-conflict than team/character-conflict. It makes clear that 03!Leo was chosen by his team, and that they've perfected a teamwork style since early childhood. 

Leo comes back from Japan after a months-long spiral and they trust him still, immediately, again - like he never left, like he will make everything okay as he always does. Leo himself isn't surprised or unsure - he seems to KNOW that his family will be able to recognise the real him in this face they hadn't seen in months. 

And they are all proven right.)

But Rise!Leon never got a straight answer to HIS question. 😬

He was told flatout that he is 'just not as good' as his dystopic-future self. And now without the constant combat and leadership experience of dystopia, he will never know if he is going to measure up. 

I'm not entirely sure going from 'anata wa hitori ja nai/you are not alone' to 'it's not about me/i can die for the greater good' is a wholly-positive trajectory 😬

Leon seems to have a plan tho. we shall see. and not count our chickens early. It'll still be a disrespectful mistake to discount Archie!Raph at this point 😆 

Round 4 of turtlecage25 has concluded!

On Friday June 27, the semifinals will take place.

Rise Leon v Archie Raphael

2003 Leo v Mirage Leonardo

The final contenders will then be allowed a weekend to prepare, and on Monday June 23

The last match determines the ultimate Champion!

Let's see some highlights from this last round!

Closest Fight:

03 Raph v Rise Leon

Biggest Landslide:

Archie Raphael vs IDW Mikey

Sibling Moments:

2003 Raph and Mikey had a good long talk about losing, winning, sportsmanship and family loyalty. Not that I, uh, listened in on their private conversation. That would be unethical. They both had some things to learn and ultimately both just really needed each other's support and forgiveness. I mean I'm guessing. We don't bug the rec rooms here. Anyway Donny got there just in time for the celebratory hug and was very confused.

Rise Leo explained his plan, and Raph has softened but Mikey and Donnie are more angry now. I'm sure it'll be fine.

2007 turtles are very excited about Mirage Leo's victory. His brothers are sitting with them, seeming to take the support of their teammate as an allyship.

Funny Moments:

... There really wasn't a lot of goofing around this Round. Archie Raph and IDW Mikey were having a good time! They probably had some really funny banter that I'm not clever enough to write--I mean, uh, that I didn't hear. Because the fighting arena also isn't bugged.

Loser Shout Out

03 Raph let's gooo! He really kept Leon on his toes. And this especially should be lauded because opponents who get into your head and make you wear yourself out was his exactly weak point in the show. He kept his head a good long while and very nearly won! In the end he wanted to go talk things out that have been sitting for a while more than he wanted to win.

btw don't forget about Mirage Raphael. He got out in Round 1 and has since been watching every fight like 'I could take those guys. I'll take 'em all next year.'

1987 Donatello! He's so pleased with himself for how far he did come and how close the fight was, he hardly seems upset about losing. He's signing autographs and annoying his brothers with stories (they were literally watching the whole time). He did say, and seemed sincere, that he's surprised none of the others made it that far, especially Leonardo. They're both fighters to keep eyes on in the future.

[letthestorieslive]

3 and 30 for ao3 wrapped?

Hi spike, thanks for sending this <3

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits) ?

Honestly, I am so proud of every fic I wrote this year. Because I managed to write in english, which is so not my first language (and sometime words are hard and languages just kind of merge in my head and what I'm saying or writing doesn't make sense anymore), and because I managed to write on a tight time schedule (5 fics in two months, which three and a half of them were written in one month for Scottuary).

I guess that if I have to choose one tho, it would probably be (Help) I'm Alive. It was the first fic I wrote this year and that fic has history : I rewrote it a lot, discarded it because of frustration, worked on it again, put it on hold to work on developing other ideas, deleted almost everything, rewrote some sections, deleted other sections, paused it again to start writing another fic and came back to it hit by inspiration.

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year ?

Working with a beta reader, hands down.

I've told @scribeoffate several times that I was thinking about asking someone to be my beta reader to see if it was something that could work for me but my shy ass never acted on it. Until last December and it was like one of the best decision I made that month ? I definitely got more confident as grammar and spelling were correctly correct this time (and it was my biggest mental block when writing in another language).

And the back and forth was SO GOOD !! Maybe because I had like the greatest mind as a beta (@momentofmemory i'm forever grateful <3) but talking about some sections of fic, and how to make it more flowing was really great. Like Anatomy of Healing Aching Scars would not be the same without her. So yeah, a really good surprise.

[stump-not-found]

on god do i have time to write a handyman-esque oneshot or something that has bill being such a wet cat . the wettest cat in the world . and the midpoint twist being he's not even a slightly wet cat he's a feral fucking animal just waiting for the right opportunity to strike

and then he gets it an THEN what ..... ohhhh i wanna play .......