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onlyswan · 3 months

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summary: in which you sacrifice your strawberries and eyelash wishes for the boy knocking at your door.

idol!jungkook x reader, strangers to friends (?) to lovers / fluff and a pinch of angst / word count: 5.5k

content/warnings: allusions to death and grief / jungkook is a cutie patootie and a blushing hopeless romantic mess / he wants to kiss oc so bad (me too bro) / oc is a sunshine <3 / they do chores and watch movies together :((( / in one scene he was worried oc would think of him as a perv lmao / they’re dorks and i love them / seokjin cameo hehehe

> in which masterlist!

note: to make up for the pain i may have caused and will cause <3 LOL. i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing :D as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! come chat w me. ily 🌼

—

“it’s so cold,” you mutter through chattering teeth.

the grocery bags sit on the hardwood table with a thud— the careless bringer too hasty. you shove your icy hands in the deep pockets of your jacket, breathing in and out with a sense of relief.

you are not granted the mundane euphoria for much longer, however. the doorbell rings and you are padding across the floor against your will. the cold air hits your face before it enters your apartment.

however, the happy smile that greets you blankets your heart with a type of warmth that is difficult to describe.

if you had to guess who was behind the door, you wouldn’t say the boy you’ve been fiercely pining over for the past month, but it is certainly who you’d be hoping for regardless.

“good morning!”

“oh! wait there for a moment!”

jungkook stands motionless by your open front door as you disappear into your apartment. confusion accompanied by curiosity, he tries poking his head inside, but then decides that he shouldn’t.

upon your return, his face lights up again.

“here you go!”

he accepts the jar of honey faster than he could think.

“w-why are you-?”

you tilt your head, lips forming a small pout. “isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“uh, actually-” he awkwardly pauses, hand that carries the heavy paper bag behind him suddenly feeling weak. “i came here to give you something.”

your eyes animatedly expand in surprise of the size of it, not at all expecting to receive a gift from him today. you do know that he’s fresh from japan, as you converse on the phone almost everyday… why would he come here almost immediately? and didn’t he say they weren’t given the chance to roam the city because of their work schedule?

“i just grabbed things i thought you might like. i hope i got most of them right?” he explains with a nervous chuckle as you take a look inside.

a diverse array of snacks; a beautiful journal painted with cherry blossoms; a hello kitty plushie; stickers, muji pens…

“oh my god, jungkook… these are too much. you didn’t have to.”

oh, curse the hopeless fluttering of your heart.

“wow, gifting your merch- that’s real idol behavior for you.” you tease him, referring to the hooded jacket that has their group logo on its plastic packaging. “thank you!”

“no but it seriously warms you up! i have one too!”

“jungkook, why are you so cute?!”

“ah, shut up! i’m getting embarrassed!” he whines, blushing. “just look at them later after i leave, how about that?”

“let go! it’s mine!” you glare at him, hugging the paper bag to your chest to deny his advances on snatching it away. “are you not leaving? don’t you have work?”

“i told you— it’s my rest day.”

“you did?”

“while we were texting last night.”

“oh,” you blink. “i don’t remember reading that.”

“you? what are you doing today?”

you bite back the smile threatening to give away the thoughts running in your mind a thousand miles per hour. why does he want to know?

“nothing special. just chores the entire day.”

jungkook puts his hand inside the pocket of his coat, an attempt to appear casual as he offers you his valiant effort. “do you want some help? i’m good at doing chores.”

you stare at him, perplexed, as if he just said the most ridiculous sentence you’ve ever heard in your entire life.

“it’s your rest day and you want to do chores?”

“sure,” he grins playfully, not at all seeing how that could be wrong. “why not?”

“you know…” you pause— observing his expression, considering shutting your mouth, but that plan rarely ever works out. “you can just say that you want to spend time with me, right?”

your bluntness sends his heart racing. you’re a danger to his health.

he sinks his perfect teeth on his bottom lip, bringing his dimples into view. to be honest, you didn’t always have a thing about dimples. you didn’t consider them all that special. but why do they make him look cute and sexy at the same time?

his cheeks become tinted with a pale scarlet. you’re wearing that friendly beam again; he doesn’t know how to act. he never knows whether you are joking or not.

“well, now i know.”

—

jungkook sets down the jar of honey on the table as he settles in the living room, fascinated doe eyes darting around every inch of your place. it’s not his first time here, but somehow, it looks different each time. the two frames hanging above the sofa captures his attention all over again, colorful drawings against the plain white wall. gifted to you by your siblings, you said.

a tall castle with a happy family. a little boy slaying a dragon to protect a princess from its savage fire.

he is blissfully unaware of the knowledge that the drawings are the lone survivors of a school bus and a tragedy. you want it to stay that way. you want people to feel the opposite of the sadness you feel when you look at them. that is how you seek your peace.

“are you wearing toe socks?”

“huh?” he makes a sound of confusion, only processing your question upon seeing your gaze trained to his feet. “ah- toe socks- yes.”

“i’m only noticing them now. they look funny.” you scrunch your nose, chuckling.

“don’t laugh! they’re so comfortable!”

“really?” your eyes widen with genuine interest. “i should try them then.”

“yeah, you should!”

he whips his head around as he jokingly voices out an observation.

“but ____, your house kind of looks different today… it’s almost like it’s cleaner than the last time i was here.”

you bury your face in your hands with a high-pitched wine, hiding from him in humiliation. you did not plan on inviting someone over that night, and he had to watch you run around organizing and picking up things— the scattered books all over the table and the floor; the jackets that have created a big heap on the small couch; the jewelry box that ended up on the dining table for some reason.

he laughs in endearment, unable to take his eyes from you. even the way your hair bounces as you furiously shake your head is pretty. wait, does that sound weird?

“that’s right, it should look different! the first thing i did when winter break started was clean up my mess.”

“what’s the first chore on the list then?” he catches the grocery bags in the kitchen from his peripheral. “were you putting away your groceries?”

“you really want to do chores? you don’t want to watch a movie or something?”

“aigoo, it’s fine!” he waves off your reluctance. “stop worrying! i already said i’d help you.”

“but it’s embarrassing…”

it’s either jungkook is denying your advances or he is simply dense. but the fact that he showed up at your door unannounced on his day-off despite complaining about his exhaustion from their hectic work schedule, you want to lean towards the latter and believe that he is… as good at chores like he claims to be.

“you must like fruits a lot.” jungkook comments as he is squatted infront of your fridge, sheltering the freshly bought perishables one by one.

kimchi, lettuce, strawberries, tangerines, shine muscat, apples…

this is an entirely different world through your lens.

it feels strange to watch another person restock your fridge for you.

“they’re easy to eat and i’m lazy to cook.”

he chuckles as he looks back at you, who is sat on the dining table, airy and carefree as you snack on a bag of assorted chocolates from the paper bag he brought. almost all of the white chocolates are gone, he notes.

“not because they’re nutritious?”

“that’s the bonus!”

“what is this?”

“cranberry juice.”

“and this?”

“oyster sauce.”

you energetically hop off the table, an idea lighting up the bulb in your mind.

“i have another recipe for you. french toast with strawberries, then drizzle some of the honey. should i make it for you?”

“ah!” he gasps as if he is in pain, but the truth is his mouth is watering. he hasn’t eaten breakfast, and he wanted to eat more for dinner last night but sleep proved to be much more enticing than food. “that sounds so good! i’m starving!”

“stand up!” you begin pulling at the back of his sweater, forcing him to remove himself from the floor. “i’ll make it! just go relax in the living room, okay?”

“but you just said you’re lazy to cook.” he tilts back his head, meeting your gaze. “i’ll help you.”

“i’m not lazy when it becomes to being a host.”

you bend down with a sweet smile, merely inches away from him, and jungkook swears the earth has stopped spinning on its axis. your face is natural and bare, except for the sheen of lip balm across your lips— and dear heavens, having you this close, you are so breathtakingly beautiful.

“they’re playing christmas movies on channel 36.” you announce, giving him the bag of chocolates. “and the remote is… somewhere on the sofa… or maybe the floor.”

and as he gets practically kicked out of the kitchen, your hands roughly pushing his back, he daydreams of kissing you and tasting sugar on your lips.

—

the sweet, addicting smell of the french toast— strong hints of butter and cinnamon— invades every corner of your apartment. consequently, it also compels jungkook to break your rules and insert himself in the kitchen again.

“you never give up, do you?”

“i don’t,” he agrees, nodding eagerly. he has successfully stolen the task of washing the strawberries, and then slicing them after. he endures the freezing water rendering his hands numb. “it’s a known fact.”

“are you saying i should study harder?” you cross your arms, expression painted with faux vexation.

“yes! exactly!” he humors you, grinning of amusement. “what’s my favorite color?”

you sigh, looking at him from head to toe.

“anyone can guess that from a mile away, jungkook.”

“fuck, okay. that’s fair!”

the sound of his laughter reminds of you reasons to stay through the cycle of the seasons. you don’t understand why, but for some reason, it has finally begun to feel like christmas. the only comfort that comes along with the cruel winter that nips at your skin; the blanket over your heart that provides a type of warmth one can travel to seek but will never be able to find alone.

“what’s my height then?”

“aren’t you six feet?”

the silence that follows is an answer enough for you. the noise of the television emerges now that none of you is talking. he pretends to be too busy to speak, transferring the strawberries over to the chopping board.

“yes, you’re ri-”

“liar!” you point an accusatory finger at him.

and he winces, guilty as charged.

“you hesitated!”

“tsk, i should’ve said yes faster! i wanted to experience what it’s like to be tall!” he regretfully purses his lips, eyebrows knitted as if he just lost the lottery. “but haven’t you read it online? even my shoe size and weight are there.”

“what? why do people even need to know that…?” you exclaim, flabbergasted. “i mean- of course i’ve searched up your name, but it feels like cheating on a test. does that sound silly…? it’s just more fun learning about you from you.”

you briefly walk away to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and jungkook is left at the counter with fondness blossoming in his chest, bleeding into the chopped strawberries staining his hands red.

he calls out your name.

“mhmm?” you hum in question, muffled by the water in your mouth.

“want to hear a fact about me?”

you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, eyes expanding with fueled interest. “what?”

“i’m actually very good in the kitchen.” he boasts his skills with the kitchen knife, quick and precise, the blade against the wood creating the satisfying click you usually only hear from cooking shows. “are you seeing this? huh…? what do you think?”

“so i’ve noticed. i want something new!”

at that, his shoulder sags in disappointment. to his demise, there goes another failed attempt at making you acknowledge that he is boyfriend material.

“what do you want to know? ask me questions.”

“what’s your ideal type?”

being in your presence for the past hour has gotten jungkook re-adjusted to your personality— straight-forward, bold, smart— so vivacious that it’s dizzying. you make him nervous and comfortable at the same time, and he doesn’t quite know how to explain it either. but you’re a breath of fresh air, the change that he has been anticipating to disrupt his routine.

“why do you want to know that?”

you shrug coyly, smiling like the troublesome vixen that you are. you rather enjoy the tension that has hung in the air. if you’ve learned something from the past: men are easy to get, not easy to keep. because they relish in the chase, getting strung along like this. so, shouldn’t you have your fun too? but even if jungkook’s intentions were pure, you can only imagine that seeing someone whose life revolves around their career is… the perfect recipe for disaster.

“i think who you like also says a lot about who you are as a person.”

“i like someone who is kind and funny…” he hums in thought, unconsciously slotting a piece of strawberry in between his lips. “and passionate about the things they love… mhmm, someone who can be honest with me.”

his words form a constellation named after you, unbeknownst to you, and he wants to say more but anticipating what comes next after you connect the dots makes his stomach twist. he doesn’t feel like an adult yet. he’s still just a young boy with a gorgeous crush and high ambitions that coalesce in his dreams.

“i like someone who has a really pretty smile, too.”

and he should probably stop staring, erase the dumb lovesick smile on his face. for fuck’s sake, it would be easier for him if you would just do the same. behind the sparkles of your eyes, there is something he’s been dying to decipher.

“okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

because you are so pretty, especially when you smile.

“nothing,” he replies innocently. “you? what’s your ideal type? who do you like?”

“i don’t know… no one has captured my heart yet. they’re not trying hard enough!”

every romance you’ve had so far has been a letdown.

“but i’m still looking. i’m young, and hot, and the universe is vast.”

“mhm, i see… that’s true, but maybe… you don’t want to be looking too far.” jungkook suggests.

you smirk. “so you agree that i’m hot?”

“you know. you don’t need me to say it.” he chuckles, shaking his head.

“but i want to hear you say it.”

“you’re very beautiful, ____.”

“but that’s not-”

“the food is ready! let’s eat it before it gets cold!”

he runs to the living room without waiting for you, and you seize the opportunity to squeal without a sound, punching the counter without actually punching— releasing the giddiness threatening to spill from the seams of your heart.

you don’t know if this is heading somewhere, nor do you expect it to, but where you are right now is a good place to be.

—

the movie playing on the screen has become more of a white noise to you, a family comedy far less fascinating compared to jungkook drizzling honey over strawberries and bread from a spoon. you wonder if he is aware how often he creates sound effects while he is doing something.

beside you, his body quakes with cackles during the scenes that an editor would definitely insert the classic sound of an audience’s collective laughter and holler. you stumble upon the understanding that his happiness lies in a myriad of things, and you would envy him for it if not for the fact that he is currently sharing that happiness with you. you laugh when he laughs, and being becomes a little less heavier at that moment.

another commercial break rudely interrupts and jungkook turns towards you. the two of you sit cross-legged, knees knocking against each other as you occupy nearly the entire sofa.

“hi!”

“hi.”

“what are your plans for the holidays?”

“my best friend’s family invited me to stay with them for christmas until the new year. it’s kind of been a tradition since…”

the end of your sentence hangs suspended in the air. you still can’t say it out loud.

jungkook knows they’re gone and you’re alone: only the plain and brutal truths.

the reminder that this is the third christmas you will not spend with your family; the thought that this would be the third christmas they would spend without you if the afterlife was real— they bring tears to your eyes at once, but you forcibly blink them away, shoving enthusiasm down your throat.

“how about you?” you take a bite from your toast, attempting to divert your thoughts to… anything else. “are you coming home?”

you hide so well behind a smile. it doesn’t occur to jungkook that his question rubbed salt on an open wound.

“i miss my mom but i can’t go home yet.” he pouts. “i have work on christmas day as usual. we’ve been preparing hard for it.”

“oh, that’s right! gayo daejeon?!”

he nods in confirmation.

the music festival has been an annual event for his group since they debuted, and he never feels the need to complain because not everyone is given this kind of opportunity. what’s extraordinary for most has become his ordinary, and what was once his ordinary like everybody else’s has simply become a thing of the past. nevertheless, he does not have regrets. he is living a good life, one that he believes is his fate. as long as he has a voice and it is being heard, then his existence has meaning.

“your family will surely watch you, so they’re still celebrating it with you in a way. making them proud is the best christmas gift you can give!”

and right now, in his life, you are the cherry on top. you were so cheerful and supportive about the final shows of their tour as well, raving about how amazing it is to perform three nights in a row at gocheok skydome.

“i’ll watch you too!”

he can’t help it— you’re driving him to be better at what he does. childishly, he wants show off and be the one to capture your heart.

“ah!” he groans. “that means i should work harder at practice tomorrow! i can’t mess up infront of you and my family!”

“why not me? you want to make me proud too?” you interrogate him jokingly.

“of course, it’s my job. it’s what i do best. i’ll make you see!”

“use me as motivation then. you can’t mess up, okay? you have to do well, jungkook! you better not make a mistake! my eyes will be focused on you only!”

his face is reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights— the headlights being your wide, threatening eyes.

he releases a shaky sigh in dramatic fashion. “i don’t feel motivated, though? i’m getting pressured?”

you wheeze; the plate over your lap tilts along with its contents.

“this is tough love!”

jungkook nearly staggers to his feet. “…love?”

you roll your eyes, small corners of your lips still cheekily lifted. “was the french toast good?”

jungkook is interrupted before he can form a response.

“but if it tastes like shit, just lie to me!”

“what are you talking about?!”

oh my god, you’re too fucking good at making him laugh.

“you’re eating it too! you know it’s delicious!”

“maybe you got a bad batch!”

—

“i’m going to the laundry shop across the street. i’ll just be a minute.” you announce, hauling a laundry basket to the living room.

your strained grunts prompt jungkook to look up from his phone, and eventually to stand up with urgency and relieve you of your heavy, heavy burden.

“shit, how heavy is this?”

you’re not given a chance to protest as the basket is immediately stolen from your grasp; your lips part open but no words come out.

“i’ll come with you!”

“well, hopefully not more than twelve kilos.”

it’s definitely heavier than usual; mainly comprised of the thick and layered clothes you’ve been wearing to shield yourself from the unforgiving cold.

“let’s go.”

jungkook wraps his hand around your wrist, gently tugging. the butterflies in your stomach wakes up earlier than spring’s arrival.

“this thing is bigger than you.”

an extremely obvious exaggeration.

“i’ll be the one to carry it.“

—

jungkook wears a cap and a face mask underneath his hoodie, eyes barely even visible in his all-black getup for the public to see; and somehow you also find yourself with a scarf around your neck, pulled up over the bridge of your nose.

when the year 2017 rolled in, you predicted that more crazy, life-altering stuff would happen. it has been an on-going theme, a relentless domino effect that has brought you to your knees time and time again. but you never would’ve fucking imagined that this is how you would be wrapping it up. how the hell did you cross paths with a famous idol, and why is he carrying your laundry basket right now?

“wait here for a bit.” you bring both hands to the basket’s handles, coaxing him to let go. “i’ll just bring it inside.”

“are you only dropping it off? that’s expensive!”

“what?” you stare at him in bewilderment, not expecting him to utter such statement at all. “you’re talking like you’re not rich!”

“i’m not! and still,” jungkook becomes flustered underneath his disguise. “it’s good to be practical. anyway, we have a lot of time.”

“you sound more like a mom than my mom did.”

“shhh!” he shushes you, putting a finger over his face mask. “let’s just do your laundry ourselves.”

“why would you do laundry right now? you’re supposed to be resting in the first place!”

a tug of war ensues infront of the laundry shop. strangers doesn’t know better. you look like a married couple bickering over who should take responsibility of the chore.

“____, just let me, mhm? i’m a pro at doing laundry too! we’ll be done before you know it!”

“how are you good at everything? honestly, it sounds like a scam!”

“how dare you doubt me?” he gasps in offense. “i do my own laundry!”

“seriously?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“i’m serious!”

“i don’t think i believe you, though…”

“if you search online, you-” your voice echoes in his mind, and subsequently, jungkook cuts himself off.

‘it feels like cheating on a test. it’s more fun learning about you from you.’

“oh, nevermind. let’s go inside already. i’m freezing!”

“jungkook!” you whine, stomping your feet on the ground as you refuse to let go of the basket despite jungkook beginning to head inside.

“why?” he copies the childishness of your tone, and although you can’t see his face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes tell you enough.

“we can’t…”

the adorable sight of you appearing to be so shy is foreign to him. he can’t help but to chuckle. “why not?”

your lips form a pout.

“my panties…”

you bring a finger to point at the basket.

“they’re in there too… i was only going to drop them off today because you came with me…”

“ah…” jungkook awkwardly freezes, unblinking. “wait, you’re right?”

why didn’t he think of that? he’s a fucking idiot. of fucking course. what if you take things the wrong way and you’re creeped out by him now?!

“fuck, sorry. i’m sorry. i wasn’t- um, i swear i wasn’t trying to…”

his tongue becomes tied, struggling to search for the words that won’t make him sound like a damn pervert.

yeah, way to go, jungkook. you’re not the fucking boyfriend yet and you’re ruining your chances.

“did i make you uncomfortable? i’m sorry. it probably looked li-”

“hey, breathe, calm down. it’s alright, jungkook.”

you giggle in amusement, placing a hand over his chest— his heart. it’s meant to ease him, but the knowledge that you’re feeling his racing heartbeat only causes it to further intensify. he swallows the lump in his throat, dumbfounded by the turn of events. he wants the ground to swallow him whole, but he also wants to stay in this moment a little while longer.

“it’s alright. i’ll go bring this inside then i’ll treat you to lunch at the restaurant over there! don’t run away from me, okay?”

—

“the yukgaejang looks good.” you utter absentmindedly, admiring the spicy beef soup with plentiful vegetables from afar. “i’m jealous of you.”

the other tables are already having a feast while you and jungkook are waiting for your take-out to be prepared.

“then you should’ve ordered it too.” jungkook scolds you lightheartedly. “should i go?”

“no! i’m not good with spicy food. spice makes me cry.”

he smiles softly. once again, you complete the picture from his eyes. “what is there to frown so sadly about?”

“i feel like i’m missing out.” you complain, the pout on your face almost permanent. “spicy food is like one of the trademarks of korea, you know? but i can’t handle it!”

“so cute…” jungkook has decided to give in to his impulses, it seems— the evidence is him pinching your cheek for the very first time, and with the discovery of its delightsome softness, it will definitely not be the last.

“oh, oh, oh! an eyelash!”

his doe eyes glisten with pure wonder and excitement, and the air in your lungs becomes suspended when his hand moves to tenderly cup the side of your face. as he is absorbed in capturing the tiny eyelash that has fallen and glued itself on your cheek, your mind reels with the size of his hand, the sensation of his innocent touch against your neck.

“aaand-” jungkook takes your hand, passing on the eyelash to your index finger. “there you go. make a wish!”

your eyes flicker down, and none of you speaks for a moment or two.

a wish…?

what does one wish for when they have given up on wishing for miracles?

“did you do it?”

you peek at jungkook, nodding. at last, you blow the eyelash away, outside the window, where it becomes one with the snowflakes that came from the same sky where wishes are supposedly granted.

“what did you wish for?”

“i’ll tell you when it comes true.”

—

jungkook eats so well— you feel full just by watching him eat. so when he asked you, eyebrows knitted and legs bouncing, if he could have more rice, you were left with no choice but to plug in the rice cooker for the second time today. you cooked only enough for two meals today: brunch and dinner for one. you’re more than happy to have given him the dinner portion. you like that your apartment is providing warmth for another soul, despite the old times that it housed ones that ended up haunting you.

“are there any more chores to do? while we wait for the rice?”

you gaze switches from him to the living room.

the boy who was knocking at your door is now vacuuming your floors.

you sit on the couch with your legs hugged to your chest, chin propped on your knees. an unexplainable feeling swims in your chest, but your heart calls to welcome it. not to be delusional, but technically, isn’t this a marriage proposal?

it falls on dear ears— the infuriating sound of the cheap vacuum cleaner your landlord lended you and never came back for. underneath it is jungkook’s mellifluous voice, humming and singing, and it’s all you can hear.

the only use you knew of honey is the magic it does with tea for a sore throat. when you learned about his demanding occupation, he is all you can think of in relation to the elixir. since then, you’ve been taking the god awful amount of honey your pesky neighbor provides without any complaints.

this is nice… this is good. you are glad that you opened the door.

—

after a hearty and satisfying meal, you and jungkook retired to your previous spots infront of the television screen. more of the snacks he bought for you ended up being shared. near your stacks of books are colorful food wrappers and half-empty glasses of water. two mediocre yet entertaining movies later, you tell jungkook that you should pick up your laundry before the shop closes in an hour. however, after he has excused himself to the bathroom, he is greeted by the sight of you peacefully asleep on the sofa.

once more, a new side of you is laid bare, and his affection grows. he doesn’t know when he can admire your face this close again without melting from your stare.

heedful of disturbing your much deserved rest, he carefully places a pillow beneath your head, and he pulls down the blanket you’re wrapped in to cover your cold feet.

with one last stolen glimpse, he grabs your key and receipt from the bowl and leaves.

—

“is it time for you to leave?” you delicately rub at your eyes that are still half-closed; voice quiet, barely there.

you were awoken by the front door opening and closing, but nothing has quite registered to your fuzzy brain yet, except for the coat that you neatly kept and is already re-worn by its owner.

and he knows you’re most probably just sleepy, but the way you’re gazing at him as if you’re sad to see him go makes his heart clench.

“no, i picked up your laundry.” he enlightens you, consciously speaking with refined tenderness, as to preserve the serenity that has enveloped the atmosphere. “i can stay until eight. is that okay?”

you release a weary sigh, nodding. “of course… and you’re such a nice friend, thank you.”

he plops down on the sofa, filling the jungkook-shaped space beside you.

tired… you’re so tired… despite the given privilege to finally sleep to your heart’s content, you’re still so tired. your forehead lands softly on his shoulder, and unbeknownst to you due to your stupor, jungkook’s breath hitches— the polar opposite of the steady rise and fall of your chest. you make him swoon. he deliberately ignores the fact that you just called him a friend.

you peer down at the floor, past the curtain of your disheveled hair, slowly blinking. those ridiculous toe socks… you giggle in secret.

“jungkook?”

“yes?”

“are you cold?”

“freezing.”

you lift your head and he knows— you have to be playing games with his heart, bringing the temptation to kiss you so painfully close. “do you want some tea?”

—

the performance has commenced but the passionate screams of the audience still rings in jungkook’s ears as he runs backstage, chased by the staff attempting to wipe the sweat he is practically bathing in. he squeezes one eye shut as beads of sweat threaten to enter it. his chest heaves with exhaustion and his heart pumps with overwhelming adrenaline. most of the time, this job doesn’t feel real. he feels high. this is the textbook definition of a dream.

“where’s my phone? please? does anyone have it?” he yells in the midst of the chaos and clamor as he completely strips off his in-ears.

a hand reaches towards him with the device, and his expression of gratitude gets lost somewhere among the repetitive reminders of the remaining time before they should have returned to their designated seats.

he allows the hair and make-up stylists to do their jobs, him as their doll in need of a retouch. on the other hand, he impatiently waits for his phone to power on.

the tapping of jungkook’s foot ceases, and from his glowing reflection on the vanity mirror, the clueless people surrounding him witnesses love strike.

guess my eyelash wish worked like a charm. your performances went really well

and you looked so cool on stage ☺️

merry christmas jungkook ❤️

“jungkook-ah, what are you smiling at?!”

seokjin cackles. jungkook didn’t even notice him roll his chair so close. he then decides to play dumb to tease their youngest one.

“wow, who is this ____ you’re texting?”

“hyung!” jungkook panics, hissing underneath his breath. “lower your voice!”

“ouch!” seokjin yells, rubbing his arm that was hit as a punishment.

he allows a moment of silence.

his expression goes blank and he avenges himself.

“ah!” jungkook gasps as the slap on his thigh resonates, forced to be ripped away from overthinking a text message. “hyung! you better start running!”

Draft: i know it’s late.. but can i see you later?|

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taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

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#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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muniimyg · 4 months

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7.5: the perilla leaf 》 series m.list

note: nah cos why did u guys blow up 6.5??? jus cos it was nasty sex ????? WAS THE MIRROR SEX CH NOT AS HOT ???? 😭 jus kidding … hello to my new readers !! hello to my day 1s !!! i’m so glad u’re here <3 enj this ch as we are near the end … i know i took a hot minute... but now u guys will know WHY. pls lmk ur thots ,, i am in desperate need of validation cos i’m losing motivation 😀✊🏽 mwah ,, wuv u all ,, until next time !

warnings: this ch is lengthy !!! i'm too lazy to do a word count... anyways,, miscommunication (jk & mina, mina & oc, eunwoo & jk & oc, etc etc), rejection (take a wild guess 😛) and jealousy ((take an even wilder guess)) angst & implied smut (((pls do not be like jk,, he’s such a douche in this ch))) oc has mean girl vibes... etc etc👨‍🍳✨

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @bloopkook @suciedad-divina @xelenavazquezx @kyjjk @parkinglot-nights @skzthinker @thisisaburnphone @rrjkive @hyuneyeon @chemicalclub @bbtsficrecs @ronyiboniyy @italiekim

When Yuna meets you, she's wearing Taehyung’s jersey.

You keep your mouth shut about it, hoping if you don’t bring up her situationship with Taehyung—she won’t bring up yours with Jungkook.

It’s simple girl logic. Something you’ve always loved about Yuna is that even though she is the nosiest human to ever exist—she knows her boundaries when it comes to you. With that, you’ve always felt safe with her. Eventually, you’ll tell her everything. Besides, what fun is being in a situationship when your loving friends come in with their thoughts and concerns? Evidentially bringing the truth to light and ending your delusion?

No fun!

Speaking of delusion…

“Oh my god,” Yuna gasps as she makes an effort to block your view. You huff at her, annoyed at how childish she’s acting. She waves her arms frantically, trying to keep you focused on the other side of the bleachers. Isn’t that ridiculous? For someone trying to get you to avoid looking a specific way, she draws all the attention to it. “Babes, whatever you do, don’t look—___, seriously? Stop! Please, you’re just going to—”

In disbelief, you grumble; “why is Mina wearing Jungkook’s jersey?”

Your own words make you want to throw up.

What the actual fuck.

She’s standing a few feet away from the soccer team with her friends. The towels in their hands—at this point should be pompoms—make them look so… Entitled? You don’t even know half of the girls she’s standing with. Yet, you hate them.

You despise them and the way they look so perfect.

They’re all wearing a team member’s jersey… Mina just so happens to have Jungkook’s on. It makes you wonder… Did he give that to her? Did they meet after you two fucked? Did he really mean it when he said, “quickie?”

Did he mean anything he said to you at the party? Not that he was making promises... It's just irritating because you almost believed him.

Believed in being his girl.

... Whatever that means.

His words were sweet but the way he looked into your eyes was his entire tell. They were sweeter. He had a softness in his gaze. It looked genuine—you swear it was.

“I think the jerseys are from last season… Look!” Yuna tugs the fabric of the jersey sleeve to you and begins to point details out. “See? This is Taehyung’s from this season. It’s made of thinner material and even the colour is lighter! Mina’s is—”

You turn the other cheek, not bothering to entertain the rest of this conversation. What was the use? You’d only hurt yourself with all the overthinking and cause drama between you and Jungkook. Besides, you have faith in him. He knows how you feel when it comes to Mina… He wouldn’t push it, right? And if anything… You can’t seem to think of a reason why he would be upset with you right now.

The quickie was just a quickie.

Not much to say. He was normal—until he left. Jungkook had left without saying goodbye and it made you feel a little weird. Not even a text? Not even a heads-up? Not even a kiss? Odd of him.

Again, it’s nothing worth starting a fight.

… And besides, when were you guys the type to fight over things like this? You two aren’t dating. Communication—in this sense—is it really necessary?

“Shit,” Yuna nudges you. “She’s waving at us. Wave back so she doesn’t know we’re talking shit—”

“We’re not talking shit,” you hiss. “Who even cares?”

“Okay, jealous era!” Her words earn an eye roll from you. Quickly, you give in and flash Mina a faint smile and wave your hands at her. She giggles and returns to chatting with her friends.

“Remind me again… Why did I come?” you groan as you take a seat. Ignoring you, Yuna sits down beside you and takes her phone out. You peek over and see that she’s texting Taehyung good luck. “Do you go to all their games?”

“I try to.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Yuna snorts. “Taehyung likes the support.”

You bite your tongue.

Should you even ask? It’s probably safer to assume, right?

“Do you like Taehyung?” Your words come out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Afraid of her reaction, you brace yourself for her defensiveness. Instead, her lips curve into a smirk.

“Do you like Jungkook?”

Stupid question.

Just when Yuna thinks you’re about to react to her question, the crowd begins to cheer. You two turn your attention to the field where your Uni’s team and the opposing team all come out and shake each other’s hands. Then, they run a small lap around the bleachers and briefly greet everyone.

You watch Jungkook in silence. You don’t cheer his name or even wave. It doesn’t matter though. He sees you.

When he does, he playfully squints his eyes and tilts his chin up. With both of his hands, he makes the OK hand gesture and brings the circle parts to his eyes. Then, he flips one.

69.

Your eyes widen. As you throw your head back to laugh, out of instinct, you give him the middle finger. He chuckles and returns your gesture by blowing you a kiss.

Mina watches as he blows his kiss towards you.

Her cheers go quiet. For a split second, you two make eye contact. She smiles at you shyly. You gulp and turn your attention back to the field. Shortly, the game begins. As the crowd cheers, she finds her mood again. Meanwhile, your attention goes back and forth to Mina, cheering on the sidelines, and Jungkook, playing like losing isn’t an option.

For some reason, you feel a little bad. She’s so supportive and cute (you hate to admit it)… And he’s… Well, why does it matter what he is? All you know is that he isn’t hers.

Yet, he isn’t yours either.

Jungkook scores the final goal.

Of course, he does.

As the crowd goes wild, you can’t help but join in. His teammates run to him, engulfing him like the ace he is. Jungkook pokes his head out and looks at the crowd. When his eyes land on you, you offer him and smile and a thumbs up. He sticks his tongue out at you before he returns to his victorious team.

Shortly after, Yuna guides you down to the field the minute your area clears. As she does this, you can’t help but feel a little nervous. What were you going to say to him? Even if you had already seen and spent time with him today, right now feels a lot different.

The way to the field isn’t that long of a walk. Suddenly, you’re standing across from him. He’s saying his last few goodbyes to his teammates and hanging back with Taehyung. Yuna sprints to Taehyung, happily congratulating him and teasing his soccer moves. You watch in awe as the two bond and laugh together. Walking to Jungkook, you keep your head high.

He would be happy you showed up, right? You didn’t text him that you were coming… But this is a good surprise! At least, you hope it is. He mentioned not telling you about the game because he didn’t feel like begging you to come. Well, here you are. No begging and no sour attitude. You’re here for him.

It’s all shits and giggles until Mina beats you to him.

He’s only a few steps away from you, but in an instant—he feels so far away. You pause, wondering if you should continue to walk to him. It doesn’t matter if he was watching or waiting for you to come to him; you can leave right now. You could turn around and just wait by the bleachers. Or… You could just go home.

Perhaps there’s a look in your eye that gives your thoughts away or maybe, your friends just know you too well.

Yuna catches you backing away. She glares at you and side-eyes the direction towards Jungkook. In response, you shake your head with a polite smile—a smile that is trying to mask the fact that you kind of want to rip Mina’s cute head off.

Polite.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel someone grab onto your forearm. Looking up, you realize it’s Eunwoo.

“When we were dating, I almost always begged you to come to these games,” Eunwoo complains, grinning ear to ear. “Funny seeing you here.”

Eunwoo isn’t on the team.

He doesn’t even play soccer, really. Basketball is more of his thing. In all fairness, he loves sports and a lot of his friends are on the soccer team. When you two were dating, you were almost never together on Friday nights because of these stupid games. He’d beg for you to come with him and you’d reject and promise him your Saturday night.

“You aren’t even on the team,” you laugh, earning an embarrassed grin from him. “What’s the point of going to a game if your boyfriend isn’t on the team?”

He tilts his head. Suddenly, your words sink in. Did you really just say that?

“I came with Yuna!” you attempt to save yourself. “She always comes to these things… For Taehyung or something.. I—I just thought I’d c-check it out.”

Eunwoo gives you a funny look.

You aren’t sure if he bought your excuse but you’ll pretend like he did just to salvage any dignity you have left. Everything feels so embarrassing right now. Nothing is going your way and you just feel so out of place.

Is it overstimulation?

You came all this way to see one person—why are there so many other people?

“Are you here to see Jungkook?” Eunwoo asks bluntly. “You know… Since he’s on the team.”

Eyes widened, you shake your head profusely. “Ew! W-what? No! Who said that? I’m here because my friends are on the team and—”

“You’re a bad liar,” he interrupts you. “Always have been. You should stick with being honest.”

You huff at him. Out of everyone here, he’s probably your safest option when it comes to admitting the truth. In a way—in your way—you give in.

“He’s talking to Mina.”

“Oh,” Eunwoo turns his head, seeing for himself what all your fuss is about. When he takes it all in, he turns back to you with a shrug. “She’s cute.”

“She is cute… You should date her.”

Eunwoo rolls his eyes before engulfing you in a bear hug. He ruffles your hair, knowing you hate it when he does this. You groan and shove him away from you. As you compose yourself, he sighs.

“Yah, ___,” Eunwoo lifts his finger and points at you. With a serious tone, he warns you: “Don’t be so obvious with your jealousy. It hurts my feelings that you never acted this jealous when it came to me.”

You smile at him sweetly. “That’s because you’re a well-trained dog.”

“Ouch!” Eunwoo laughs, pretending you hurt his heart. “Yes, it’s true. What can I say? Any day being your bitch is a good day to be a dog… That’s why I’m still begging for you back even though I broke up with you.”

With a whiney tone, you say, “oh, shut up.”

“Still a no to the whole getting-back-together-with-me thing?” he winks, sightly kidding and slightly not. You cross your arms and shake your head at him. He attempts one last time. “Awh, come on! We can even fake date just to get a reaction out of Jungkook… I have no problem betraying friendship for love.”

“Oh my god, shut up!”

This time, you roll your eyes at him and tell him he’s being ridiculous. You remind him that his little drunken confession at the party was close to meaningless. He knew from the very start that you’re the type to move on when things end. Good or bad, you never look back. You’ve lived your life this way for so long—you can’t recall whether it brought you more luck or pain.

Eunwoo doesn’t care for your little speech. Instead, he laughs and continues to push your buttons.

“Wow, you must love Jungkook at this point. You know, you can just say that, right? You loveeee—“

You lunge yourself to him, attempting to playfully put him in a chokehold. He’s a lot taller than you so you struggle. Honesty, it’s cute and he can’t resist you. Eunwoo laughs and bends his knees, pretending to struggle as you seek revenge. He gives in, letting you have your way.

Meanwhile, Jungkook can’t concentrate on his conversation with Mina.

The big smile on his face faded as he watched you turn away when you were only a few steps away from him. How could you do such a thing? You walking towards him made him so happy. It was a sight he had been daydreaming of for the past few days. Though he saw you just hours before, he didn’t expect to see you at the game.

He thought you didn’t care.

Yet, there you were.

Shit, how does he even begin to explain how it felt to see you there? How annoying it was when you threw your head back to laugh, and his heart raced like never before? He was obsessed with you. Every little thing you do—he was your number one fan.

Except for moments like these.

Where you hesitate as you walk towards him. Where you get distracted and forget about him just because your ex showed up.

Where you give up.

“... And so, I guess… What I’m trying to ask is if you’d want to grab dinner with me and my friends? And then maybe we could do something after that… Alone? Like just the two of us?” Mina’s voice cuts in, interrupting Jungkook’s thoughts of you. “We could watch a movie at my place? My roommate went home for the weekend so we’d have the place to ourselves.”

He stares blankly, trying his best to process everything Mina is blabbing about.

“Ohh… Thanks for the offer! You know the team and I usually celebrate with dinner together, right? ” Jungkook says it happily as if he isn’t rejecting her. “Next time?”

Idiot, Jungkook thinks to himself.

No next time. No this time. No nothing.

Why does he do this? Why does he always push things back for Mina when he doesn’t even want to reschedule? He doesn’t want to reject her… But he does.

Within seconds, the disappointment in Mina’s eyes fades when she comes up with a solution. Her eyes light up, believing in the compromise she’s about to pitch. “Then maybe I could join you guys? Taehyung and Yuna already know me and—”

“But it’s a team thing.”

Mina’s eyebrows furrow. Slightly offended, she pushes the conversation. “Oh… But Eunwoo goes. Yuna does too. She isn’t on the team—she’s just dating Taehyung.”

“No, she isn’t,” Jungkook laughs, finding the assumption cute. “At least, not yet.”

It’s not that funny, though. Mina doesn’t laugh and the silence between the two is heavy. Her facial expression drops, indicating her mood shifts to something less enthusiastic.

Annoyance?

Desperation?

Hurt.

“___ isn’t on the team. She isn’t dating you… But she’ll be there, right?” Mina chokes her words out as if she’s accepting her defeat. Saying this is a wildcard, but she plays it anyway. “Or what I mean to say is that she’s not dating you… Not yet. Haha.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s dry and it’s… Nothing. No words, no thoughts.

He can’t think of a defense and he isn’t even really sure what he’s supposed to say. In his lifetime, he has gotten more than a handful of confessions… But for some reason, this one feels painful.

Pitiful.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jungkook breathes. He scratches the back of his neck and looks at Mina shyly. “I really appreciate the support—I really do. It’s just… I never wanted yours.”

Mina stares at him blankly.

“Okay, I get that… But… This is what you do when you like someone. You do thoughtful things they never ask for. You sit through their practices even if it’s pouring rain or hot as fuck. You wash your towels with their favourite laundry detergent because they mentioned they're sensitive to strong scents—no, actually… I think you drive them home and ignore the other girl who sits with his friends and waits for him… Right? You blow her kisses from across the field instead of the girl that helped set up for the game.”

Jungkook’s heart drops.

“Mina—”

“I waited for you and you never came. You didn’t even text me. Do you know how that feels? To wait for someone and they don’t even—god, I like you so much I made myself look sooo stupid.” Mina groans in frustration. She puts her hands to her face, taking a breath in before continuing to get things off her chest.

“I should’ve left. Instead, I stayed and checked my phone every two minutes in case you texted. Then, I thought, okay… At least I can try to bond with your friends. But you know what? All they could talk about was you and ___. I sat there, listening and nodding like an idiot.”

Fuck.

Jungkook wants to sympathize with her, but can’t find the words or the strength to reach out. As he hesitates, Mina gathers her final thoughts and makes her last few moves. Abruptly, she shoves the towel in her hands to Jungkook’s chest.

“She didn’t even know you joined the team again after quitting. She has never gone to a game until today. She doesn’t even chant your name or cheer when you score a goal. She’s over there, flirting with her ex-boyfriend while you’re here rejecting me.” Mina fumes. “Is that who you’re going to pick over me? If so, fine. Nice choice, Jungkook. I wish you the best. Thanks for wasting my time.”

“You chose to be here. Look at yourself. Why are you even wearing that?” Jungkook points at the jersey she has on. Mina tightens her lips, suddenly feeling ridiculous. She pushes past him but pauses when Jungkook mumbles the words, “You led yourself on.”

Sharply, Mina raises her voice. “She doesn’t even want you.”

Ouch.

Mina’s words hit Jungkook right in the heart. Right in the spot where his insecurities and overthinking take place—the words strike him.

They hurt him.

They kill him.

“Don’t speak for her,” he warns, gaze lowered and stern. “She may not have cheered as loud as you during the game, but who fucking cares when she was chanting my name the other night… Or was it before the game today? I can’t remember. Fucked around too much to remember.”

Mina darts Jungkook a glare. “You’re an insensitive asshole. Do you know that?”

Jungkook huffs, beginning to feel frustrated. “Your feelings are yours, my feelings are mine. So, you don’t get to say shit about ___ to me—not about the way she treats me or her choices. I’m a grown man, Mina. I can figure it out when I need to pull out and how much shit I can take.”

“Mind giving me a few lessons, then?” she asks, eyes beginning to tear up. “I think I put up with yours for a minute too long.”

Everything becomes difficult in that exact second. There’s so much empathy Jungkook wants to express, but can not. He should not. He needs to pull away now or else he would be doing exactly what she’s accusing him of doing—leading her on.

“I’m sorry, Mina,” Jungkook apologizes softly, truly feeling stuck. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Mina sighs, eyes watery from the tears that threaten to fall. “You’re a grown man, Jungkook. You can figure it out when you need to pull out and how much shit you can take.”

Jungkook lowers his head, feeling bad for his harsh words. A part of him hates how this interaction went down. He could’ve been kinder. He should’ve been kinder. At the same time, it feels like this is all worth it. There’s no better way to end things than just to cut everything off.

Still, he attempts one last time.

“Mina,” Jungkook raises his face and looks at her in the eyes. “Look, I was as honest as I could be. I didn’t know I would like her so much. I didn’t know I’d feel this way about her at all… It just happened. I don’t mean to be an asshole. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I’m so sorry. With my whole heart, I am so fucking sorry."

Mina gulps, a little taken aback by his words. There’s a relief in her heart when Jungkook expresses his feelings to her. At least, there was clarity.

At least, he was honest.

At least, it ends like this.

She balls her fists and raises them. Waving them in the air, slowly and cutely, she smiles at Jungkook one last time.

Softly, she cheers, “go, Jungkook. Go.”

In the past, the friendgroup seating arrangement was a no-brainer. The order always went: other friends, you, Yuna, Taehyung, and then Jungkook. This was the blueprint.

Tonight, it’s different.

It earns a few confused looks, but nothing major. No one thinks twice about it. Maybe that’s because they didn’t catch the small moment in between—the one where Jungkook tugged on the hem of your crewneck and you complied. Taking a seat beside him, he keeps his hands near yours.

Though the restaurant is packed and busy, sitting beside Jungkook feels slow.

Was this even possible? For time to feel like it slows down when you’re beside him? It’s like every gesture he makes, every word that comes out of his mouth, and every stolen glance at you feels mindlessly slow. Yet, your heart races beside him. Even then, you can’t deny how gentle he is.

How every fingertip brush he makes is intentional. How he eventually hooks his pinky onto yours. How he inches closer and closer to you. Each time, you look away and pretend you don’t notice it. You do. You really do.

It feels strange.

Back at the field, it felt like he didn’t pay attention to you. Was it because of whatever he and Mina had discussed moments before? He didn’t talk about it when he joined you and Eunwoo. Instead, he kindly greeted you two and excused himself to quickly shower at the locker room before heading out to dinner. You and Eunwoo agreed to wait for him.

So, you can’t put your finger on it.

He was acting strange, but it wasn’t like anyone else was saying anything about it. A part of you wonders if it’s all in your head. Even though he had acknowledged your presence and excused himself politely—it felt like he was distant.

It hurt your feelings.

Why is he acting so weird? The possibilities you make in your head feel limited. The entire way here, you kept replaying moments between you two recently. What could have gone wrong? What could you have done wrong? What about him changed his mind about you? These thoughts flooded your mind so much that you didn’t even realize that he tugged on your crewneck for you to sit down beside him.

Now, here you are.

Mind racing with anxious thoughts, sitting beside the man who is the cause.

Your mind is telling you one thing, but his actions are proving otherwise. You don’t know which to believe and it makes you unsure of what to do. Everything is muffled and you can barely make out the small talk happening around you. The only thing clearer than your confused feelings are Jungkook’s gentle touches.

… That is until Yuna and Eunwoo begin to argue.

“Don’t you usually sit beside her?”

Yuna dismisses him. “Who cares?”

“I do,” Eunwoo protests. “If anyone is going to steal your seat, it’s going to be me!”

“No! You can’t. You can sit beside Taehyung—”

Eunwoo crosses his arms at her. “I thought you liked me. Am I no longer your favourite?”

His words trigger Yuna’s shoulders to drop. She bites her tongue and side eyes Jungkook. Jungkook catches her look and simply clears his throat. Then, he nudges you.

“Let Yuna sit beside you.” Jungkook’s tone is serious yet casual. You tilt your head at him and give him a weird look.

“Why does it matter?” you press. In all honesty, you aren't sure of what answer to expect. You're just poking the bear just because you can.

“I’m sitting beside you,” Jungkook points out. “It only makes sense that Yuna sits on your other side. Your favourite people in the world, you know?”

Unfazed, you shake your head. “Be honest… Do you not want Eunwoo to sit beside me?”

“I’m sitting beside you. Focus on that.”

You huff. “It’s yes or no, Jungkook.”

“Or.”

He answers without a lighthearted tone. Without a smile. Without the intention of miscommunicating what he wants. You can’t help but pity him. It’s obvious he’s a little sensitive right now and considering how he left things with you earlier—maybe you should be kinder. Maybe you should cater to him tonight.

But… At the same time…

Jungkook is being difficult, so maybe you should run the same play.

Okay, fine.

Since the ball is in your court, you shoot your shot.

“Eunwoo,” you say sweetly, “sit beside me. Yuna can sit beside Taehyung.”

Taehyung, who is sitting across from you, gulps. He instantly feels like he’s caught in the middle. Between trying to please every request Yuna throws at him to catering to his friends—when would this agony end? When could he finally have peace and not get poop anxiety from all this drama?

“But ___—”

You hush your best friend. Yuna pouts and glares at Eunwoo. Truth be told, she doesn’t care if she’s the one sitting beside you or not—she just didn’t want it to be Eunwoo. For Jungkook’s sake; she wanted it to be him. But by the looks of it, Jungkook is in a mood and you’re way too in your head tonight. Ultimately, she accepts her defeat and slumps beside Taehyung.

Taehyung tries to cheer her up by pointing at her favourite foods. It works. She instantly smiles and sits up with pep. He lets out a breath of relief and shares a look with Jungkook. A, that-was-a-close-one kind that makes Jungkook laugh. You watch as he laughs and can’t help but feel your annoyance begin to fade.

Okay… It’s confirmed. He’s in a weird mood tonight, but he’s still Jungkook.

He is still your Jungkook.

As Eunwoo settles beside you, he strikes up a conversation with the other teammates around him. On your left, you just hear Eunwoo talking your ear off. On your right, Jungkook goes on his phone and goes quiet. Only every so often would he chuckle or make a side comments.

It’s then that you realize you hate where you’re sitting.

So, you do the only logical thing you can.

Flirt with him.

Slowly, you place your hand on Jungkook’s thigh. You lean forward, pressing some weight on him. He puts his phone down and looks up at you. Cutely, you smile at him and take your hands off his lap.

Patting his head, you softly tell him; “Jungkook, you played well.”

You run your fingers through his damp hair and look into his eyes. You bat your eyelashes a few times, attempting to act cute. Deep inside, you hope this works. You hope you win him over.

You do.

Right then and there, all his plans go out the window. He will never get used to this. He loves hearing praises from your lips. In complete trance of how you say it, what you say, and why you say it—everything. He craves for you to be obsessed with him the way he is with you.

So, fuck it.

He could pause his sulky attitude for you.

Anything for you.

Jungkook’s lips curve into a half smile. “Don’t be cute.”

“Why?” you pout. “Is it working?”

“Are you trying to entice me?” He chuckles before leaning close to you and lowering his voice. “It’s working, I’ll admit that… But it’s kind of shameless of you to be trying so hard right now. Our friends are here, ___… Don’t start shit you can’t finish, pookie.”

Playfully, you hit his shoulder. “I always finish.”

“Is that so?”

You look at him as innocent as possible. “Yeah. Thanks to you.”

Jungkook goes dizzy.

As he’s about to make a shameless remark, the waiter squeezes himself in between you two and places water down for the table. Everyone thanks him and reaches for a cup. Jungkook hands you one and you drink it.

“Thirsty as always,” he shakes his head at you fondly.

Then, he takes a sip of his water. By complete accident, some water spills and gets the corner of his mouth and a bit of his chin wet. You laugh, put down your cup, and tug on your sleeves. Without much thought, you move closer to him and use your sleeves to dry him.

“You always spill your drink,” you nag. “Are you a child?”

He stays still, not wanting you to move away. “No.”

You taunt him. “Baby.”

“Who the fuck is baby?” Jungkook mimics.

Lowering your gaze, you send him a warning look. He laughs and puts his hands up in surrender. As you finish cleaning him up, you sneak in a final comment. “Yah, a lot of girls would break up with you if you do this shit on a first date… Such an ick. Imagine going out with a guy that needs a sippy cup.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at how extensive you’re stretching this out. “It’s charming. I make it charming. My girlfriend would just have to get over it. It’s that simple.”

“Sure,” you agree with a sarcastic tone. “As if I can ever get over it.”

At this point, Jungkook is going to lose track of how many times you’ve made his heart skip a beat. This is completely unfair. How do you say shit like that so easily and captivate him without even knowing? Should he say something about it?

As he opens his mouth to speak, he loses his chance.

“___, Jungkook,” Eunwoo chimes in, “Since this is ___’s first time eating with the team… Should we just order our usual?”

Jungkook nods, agreeing with the suggestion. You do the same and state you feel indifferent. Eunwoo then goes on and on about the food. He tells you about the dishes he thinks you’ll like and which ones you should avoid due to your preferences. All the shit he says are things Jungkook has noticed about you before—it just annoys the hell out of him that Eunwoo is telling you all this shit like he’s still your boyfriend.

He isn’t.

So, he should shut the fuck up, right?

Jungkook’s thoughts are put on pause when his phone vibrates. He looks at the notification and reads:

Yuna [8:07PM]: stop making that face

Yuna [8:07PM]: idk if u're jealous or need to shit

Jungkook [8:08PM]: lol but like did u see her flirting w me 😌🤘

Yuna [8:08PM]: yes. do u want a medal or smt?

Jungkook [8:09PM]: she wants me fr 🦄💕

Yuna [8:11PM]: is that why she nd eunwoo look like they're abt to kiss?? 😳

Instantly, Jungkook looks up from his phone and turns to you. You're just laughing and talking with Eunwoo. No kissing in sight.

Yuna [8:11PM]: made u look 🤣

Jungkook [8:13PM]: not funny.

Yuna's laughter fills the room. You turn to her, breaking away from your conversation with Eunwoo.

"What's so funny?" you ask.

She shrugs with a smug smile on her face. Pointing at him, she teases, "Jungkook's in a mood."

You look at Jungkook and see him roll his eyes. He sinks into his seat and mutters a few inaudible words. From the looks of it, you can almost swear that his eyes were a little teary. Was he about to cry or something?

"You okay?" you ask him softly. Your concern grows as he lifts his face and looks at you. He looks tired. Exhausted even. "Do you wanna talk?"

Jungkook feels a sense of relief.

You care.

Thank god you care.

In response, he squeezes your thigh. “I’m good,” he promises. “You okay?”

You nod, leaning in. “More than.”

It happens so fast. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you were barely an inch away from his lips. He even dipped his head—and then you caught yourself.

Holy shit, were you just about to kiss him? In front of everyone? When did this become second nature? You want to believe that only you caught yourself… But it’s too late. Jungkook was bracing himself.

He knew what you were about to do. He was giving in too.

As you break away, his heart breaks a little. Laughing awkwardly, you turn back to Eunwoo and continue your conversation with him. At this point, he isn’t sure if he’s just hangry or purely annoyed with everything and everyone. He feels so alone. He hates that you’re right beside him too.

He’s so fucking over this.

When the food arrives, the spread is breathtaking. Maybe it’s because everyone is hungry as fuck and the game was a huge success, but the mood suddenly lightens. The smell of meat being grilled and the sound of the side dishes being passed around was music to everyone’s ears.

As Jungkook grills the meat, he places the first one ready on your plate. He continues to pile your plate. With lingering eyes, Taehyung groans out in frustration.

“Yah!” He cries, “that’s unfair. You can’t possibly give ___ all that meat! Give me some!”

Yuna hits him playfully and tells him to let Jungkook be. She reaches over to the other grill and places meat on his plate. Taehyung huffs, and sinks into his seat.

“Jungkook used to put meat on my plate first.” Taehyung continues to whine.

You all hear him but choose to ignore his words. You aren’t even sure how you’re supposed to act with this. Jungkook was always sweet to you. He has always looked out for you. He has been a gentleman… Now that you’re paying attention to him—you can’t help but feel so infatuated.

You're drawn to him.

“Do you even eat that much meat?” Eunwoo teases, as he reaches over your plate and picks a piece of meat off. He shoves it in his mouth and you laugh at him. His cheeks are all puffy from the food he stuffed in.

“No, but that doesn’t mean you can steal it off my plate,” you mutter. “You’re such a thief.”

“I stole your heart once upon a time,” he reminds you. “I’ll be the thief if you’re the cop.”

You cringe at him. “Thank god you broke up with me.”

“You used to love my lines!” Eunwoo jokes, suddenly ruffing your hair like how he did at the field. You shove his hand away and groan at him.

Jungkook witnesses it all.

The entire time, he feels like he’s being tortured. Sure, you’re allowed to have other guy friends. Sure, you’re allowed to have exes… So why was this bothering him so much? Eunwoo is a good guy too! He’s his friend and it’s not like Jungkook has dibs. If we’re being realistic—Eunwoo had you first.

Cue Jungkook’s insecurities.

Do they know how long it took for Jungkook to get to where he is with you right now? How long he had to wait just for him to be able to hook your pinkies together under a table? How long it took for you to sit down beside him without arguing? How long it took for you to accept his presence? How long it took him to get you to act cute?

Too long.

And here Eunwoo is—a mere ex-boyfriend—getting your banters and treating you like you’re still his.

It makes Jungkook sick to his stomach. He’s losing his appetite by the second.

His thoughts are put on pause when Eunwoo proclaims: “___, look! Our favourite… Perilla leaves!”

Jungkook’s eyes bulge.

You smile at Eunwoo and practically celebrate with him. As he picks one up with his chopsticks, another sticks to it. As you pick up your chopsticks, you take the other side and peel the perilla leaf apart. Together, you and Eunwoo giggle and wrap the perilla leaf with some meat. Suddenly, he brings his wrapped perilla leaf to your mouth. Happily, you eat what he offered.

“Good bite, baby.” Eunwoo praises you.

With a mouth full, you childishly hit him and scold him for not taking a bite himself. Eunwoo listens and picks up another perilla leaf. You two repeat to peel them a part and—

Jungkook wants to kill himself.

Oh god, he wants to rip Eunwoo’s head off.

To make matters worse, Yuna attempts to be of rescue.

"Eunwoo," she gasps. "Aren't you being a little too shameless?"

Eunwoo shrugs as he prepares another bite for you. "Yuna, just because there's a goalie doesn't mean I can't score."

That does it. Something inside Jungkook snaps. He wants to be so mad at you—no, he is so mad at you.

How could you do this to him? How could you let Eunwoo say such things?

Don’t you know what this all means? Falling in love. Marriage. Children. A whole fucking nuclear future with someone that wasn’t him. It’s fucking insane you’d let Eunwoo go this far… And right in front of Jungkook? Were you serious? Do you hate him this much?

In a hurry, Jungkook takes his phone and opens his iMessage. He taps on your name— which is easy because it’s pinned—and sends you a text.

Then, he puts his phone down and begins to shove food into his mouth. He stays quiet and glares at the meat as if the meat did him wrong too. He can’t even begin to express how he feels—it’s just all over the place. He is all over the place.

When his text is sent, your phone vibrates. You glance at Jungkook, a little confused as you see that he sent you a text. Sliding your phone open, you tap on his message.

mfker [8:32PM]: video attachment

Curiously, you tap on the video. As it loads, you turn down your phone volume just in case it was too loud. When the volume icon goes away, your screen reveals a familiar zooming in shot of Jungkook's face. He rolls his eyes and you hear yourself laugh. Suddenly, the angle switches to you holding the camera out at arms length.

You see the corner of your face. Your boobs. Your ass. His abs. His smirk. Him. Naked.

Your hands fly to your mouth, stopping yourself from gasping out-loud.

The sex tape.

Your sex tape with him.

In a split second, you shut your phone and turn it over. Wide-eyed, you push yourself away from the table and make the effort to excuse yourself. Everyone acknowledges your announcement but for Jungkook. He doesn’t even look up.

As you get up, you turn to him. You utter under your breath, “meet me outside. We need to talk.”

The minute Jungkook slams his car door shut, you get right to the point.

“What the fuck was that?”

Jungkook settles into his seat, unafraid of your anger. He was unashamed. What he did was reckless, yes, but it was no mistake.

With a nonchalant tone, he answers you. “What? The video? You told me to send it to you.”

Groaning, you bring your hands to your face. “Not during dinner! Not when our friends are sitting beside us! That was fucking embarrassing. Are you trying to humiliate me? That shit is private. It's us intimate. What kind of game are you playing—”

“I’m not playing any fucking game,” Jungkook controls his rage. “Why are you so embarrassed? Because it’s me fucking you in that video and not Eunwoo?”

Your eyes widen at his words.

You want to scream. Instead, with a calm and slow tone, you confront him. “So… That’s what this is about?”

Jungkook sighs heavily, clearly fed up with this conversation already. He doesn’t answer you. Instead, he reaches over and opens his glove compartment. As he rummages through, you huff at his avoidance. When he finds what he needs, he aggressively shuts the compartment closed. You watch as he brings his device to his lips. Inhaling, he takes a hit of his vape.

You glare at him.

“Can you do that on your own time? I’m trying to talk to you.”

He turns to you and blows a puff at you.

“Jungkook,” you warn him, “stop it.”

In response, he shrugs and takes a final hit.

“I didn’t even know you vape,” you say quietly. “Aren’t you supposed to take care of your body and shit? As an athlete?”

He chuckles at the label. Athlete. Sure, that’s what he was… But he was also on a break for a good amount of time. He was also human.

“I’m just stressed,” he admits. “You make me stressed.”

You laugh and take the opportunity to grab the vape from his hands. Without much thought, you open your door and toss it out. He rolls his eyes and just as he’s about to open his car door to retrieve it—you catch his wrist.

“Can you focus on me?”

As much as he hates to admit it, your words will always win him over. Even though he hesitates, he surrenders. Jungkook settles himself into his seat again and puts his hands on the wheel. Bowing his head, he shuts his eyes and takes a moment.

Silence fills the car as you two try to figure out which direction this conversation should go. So far, not so good.

You attempt once again. This time, you go from a different angle.

“Why did you leave me earlier today? I know you were busy but… You didn’t even say goodbye.” In all honesty, you hate it when you say shit like this. You feel so weak and like you could let out a sob in between words. Not to mention the fact that you’re rarely in this position. This was new. You have never fought for anyone the way you fight for Jungkook.

“I had a game.”

Jungkook’s concise answer irks you. Was he fucking serious? Could he try even just a little bit?

“I know you had a game.. At least, I found out through Mina’s Instagram post… Which… I mean, you didn’t even bother telling me you had a game. Yuna goes to those—I can too.”

No.

That’s not even what you really mean to say. What you mean to say is: I want to go to your games. I want you to want me to be there. I want you to care if I’m there or not. I want to be the one wearing your fucking jersey.

Jungkook responds plainly, “I told you… I didn’t feel like begging for you to come.”

“You don’t have to beg,” you pitch. “I would have—”

“You would have what?” he sneers. “Would you have come then? Without me asking? Without me telling you? Or did you come out of spite? Like, the fact that Mina was around me and you weren’t… Is that what brought you to me today?”

Hilarious.

Wow, what a dick.

“No,” you object. “I came because you came over for a quickie and then left. Without a word. Without a kiss. It was unlike you. I wanted to talk about it but you’re acting like this and I can’t—I don’t understand what’s going on. Jungkook, what’s going on?”

At this point, you're practically desperate. You reach for his hands. Eyes searching for his, he shakes your grip off his hands the second you intertwine them. You furrow your eyebrows, completely confused and shocked at his rejection. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

“I hate you.”

Suddenly, your throat feels dry. In an attempt to calm your mind, you search for his hands again. For the second time, he pushes yours away. Then, you brace yourself. What he says next could ultimately be the end… Right? This is where everything is headed.

The end.

Then, he says the oddest thing.

“I hate perilla leaves.”

You tilt your head at him. “What?”

“Are you going to marry him?”

You blink.

“Who?”

“Eunwoo.”

For a moment, you wonder if he’s joking. Was he actually serious? Your question is answered as Jungkook lifts his head and looks at you with a sad expression. It takes you by surprise. Come to think of it—you’ve never seen him upset. At least, not like this. Not sad. Not defeated.

“You’re mad at me… Because of a perilla leaf?”

Your loss for words. Unexplainable. Unbelievable.

He looks at you with despair. “Do you not get it? ___, the next thing to happen after you peel perilla leaves with someone is holding hands with them. Then, you fall in love. Marriage. Babies. What about me? What happens to me, huh? What happens to us? You don't even hold my hand.”

You’re dumbfounded.

“Jungkook, you can’t be serious…”

“He patted your head. Are you a fucking dog?”

Sharply, you mention, “I patted your head too.”

It doesn’t matter. He looks at you dead in the eyes. “Eunwoo is supposed to be your ex-boyfriend, not your fiancé.”

You almost gag. “He’s not my fiancé—”

“You peeled the perilla—no. You let him feed you. Fuck you for that.”

Frustrated, you curse. “Holy shit, do you hear yourself?”

He doesn't utter another word. Instead, he stays quiet. Then, when you open your mouth to speak, he beats you to it.

“I hate Eunwoo.”

A beat.

“I hate Mina.”

Just as expected, Jungkook provokes you.

“What the hell does Mina have to do with this—”

“Everything!” you express rather triggered. "Look, I don't know what you expect from me. I’m not going to go to your fucking practices with a towel in my hand ready to wipe your precious golden sweat. I’m not Mina—”

Jungkook cuts you off only to repeat his question. “What the hell does you not being Mina have to do with all of this? How does that justify the perilla leaf?”

At this point, you feel like you're losing your mind. Childishly, you chant: “Fuck the perilla leaf. The issue is that you're all about her. Mina this, Mina that! You’re so fucking annoying with her—”

Jungkook snaps. “Are you this insecure?”

“Fuck that,” you grumble. “She was wearing your jersey today. How do you think that made me feel?”

He glares at you. “You’re fucking insane if you think I rather see her wear my jersey over you.”

“Why’d she have it on then?” you interrogate. “Are you fucking her too?”

Line: crossed.

There's madness in Jungkook's eyes. His chest burns in slow anger and feels like he's overheating from everything you've said and done thus far. He's tired.. He feels like he's losing.

Fuck it.

One last fight.

One last try.

“Are you fucking serious?” Jungkook slows down his words, trying his best not to raise his voice. It’s so fucking hard. He’s so irritated by your attitude and your fucking delusion. “___, I acted like a total douche to Mina today so she’d leave me alone. I feel horrible already, but I also feel relieved. So, stop it. You don’t have to hate her. You shouldn’t hate her. You don’t need to make these fucking assumptions because that’s just out of line.”

Like fire, your own anger consumes you. “Are you defending her?”

“There’s nothing to defend,” he insists, voice beginning to tremble. “Holy shit, I was such a douche to her already so you can chill.”

You glare at him. “I am chill.”

Lies.

“You gave me a blowjob that one time so I wouldn’t make it to my dinner plans with her,” he comments. “That was a pretty bitch move.”

Out of reflex, your mouth drops a little. You can not believe it. Did he really bring that up? “Excuse me?”

Jungkook blinks at you. “It was a bitch move. I didn’t mind, though. Why? Because it felt like you wanted me. Every time you make me feel that way—I can’t let that shit go.”

“So what? Do you want me to say thank you?” you spit. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t care if you—”

“You never asked for it, I get that,” Jungkook interrupts you. He takes a minute. Suddenly, he recalls his moment with Mina at the field and feels his heart break a little. So... This is what it feels like to be on the receiving end. “What I’m saying is that I stopped entertaining her because I—well, I thought it would ease your heart. You overthink so fucking much, I'm beginning to run out of solutions. Do you even know how much I hate your jokes? The ones about me talking to other girls? I hate them. I only talk to you. I only think of you. Only you.”

Your heart drops.

“I never asked for any of that.”

Something is wrong.

All your words are wrong. Everything you want to say is not coming out of your mouth. What you mean to say to him is; oh my god. You didn’t have to do that for me, but I feel so seen and heard that you did.

Jealousy has always been a funny thing. Never has it been triggered the way it is when it comes to you and Jungkook. Though some may argue this to be toxic, it is simply the truth about relationships. Jealousy is a healthy emotion as long as it is expressed and validated moderately. It’s so hard to be upset with Jungkook when his confessions are so wholesome. He did a kind thing for you. He did it to bring you peace. Here you are, acting ungrateful because you can’t fathom the way he cares for you.

Jungkook huffs. “___, that’s exactly it. You never need to ask when it comes to me. Whatever you want, I give. I fold. Tenfold. That’s the fucking cycle we’re in and I’m beginning to get sick of it.”

A silence falls upon you two. All you hear are the raindrops from the sky begin to splat on his window. For a moment, you get so lost in your thoughts, that your head begins to hurt. After a few more moments of silence, you realize it isn't your head.

It's your heart.

It feels like a knife has been stabbed into it—his and yours. All at once, it just aches. You both feel it. Your hearts grow tired and fragile.

Truly, it's ironic how the gentle silence is ruined by such brutal words. It's then when the knife, that was stabbed into both of your hearts, twists.

"What do we do now?"

"I think we need a break."

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #jk smut #jk angst #jk fluff #jungkook jealous #jk x yn #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts series #bts fic rec

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Adult Education Part 3 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake visits Jessica during her office hours again, and he's left wanting her even more than before. But when he hears that there may be more to her than meets the eye, he has to decide if his feelings are worth the potential risk.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"What are you doing?"

Jake glanced up from the scientific journal which was open on the cafeteria table next to his tray of lunch.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Bradshaw? I'm reading."

"You're reading?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, smoothing out the glossy page as he rolled his eyes. "I know you were in a fraternity and all, but I still assumed you knew what reading was."

Bradley set his tray down on the opposite side of the table. "Joke's on you. I graduated with a 3.9 GPA."

Jake just snorted as he read the caption under the photo of an F/A-18 that had been taken on the deck of the USS Harry S. Truman. "And I had a perfect 4.0."

"Damn," Bradley remarked before biting into his sandwich.

"Yeah, I liked school," Jake muttered, turning the journal page. "I still like school."

"Is this because of my wife's coworker? Professor Reed?"

Jake met his eyes before looking back down at the notebook he'd been scribbling some questions in. It was only Wednesday. Jessica didn't have office hours until tomorrow. He was nearly finished reading the stack of journals she gave him from cover to cover, and he actually did have some questions for her. Real questions about what he read, not just whether or not he could get her phone number yet.

"Maybe," Jake replied cautiously. He had already looked up the cost of taking one of her night classes, but he wasn't about to admit to that. "I just like how smart she is. She wrote her thesis on military aircraft propulsion."

Bradley just laughed. "This has nothing to do with how she looks? Sugar told me she's hot."

Jake bristled a bit. "She is hot." He thought back to her mini lecture and how she seemed to be the only physics professor at the school who actually knew how to teach. Then he remembered how cute she was at Chippy's, talking about her subject of study with bright eyes and a smile.

"Yeah," Bradley said, breaking into his thoughts. "I know how you operate. Each one is hotter than the last."

Jake closed the journal and set the notebook on top of it. "Doesn't matter. She still didn't give me her number. Probably thinks I'm ridiculous." He excused himself with his tray and the journals.

And by Thursday evening, Jake thought he was pretty ridiculous, too. What was he doing here? He was really going back to her office hours with his notes on the articles like some pathetic puppy? Like he was actually a student with an assignment to turn in? But even though she didn't give him her number, she had invited him back when she wrote her office hours down.

When Jake started up his truck, he had every intention of turning right at the gatehouse and heading home. But he turned left toward the bay bridge instead.

--------------------------

"Dr. Reed. I need help. These problems are hard."

The actual audacity that these students had was just impressive. They came to her office hours and whined about how hard the coursework was. And they did it all the time.

"Physics is hard, Luca," Jessica replied, loosening her grip on her pencil so she didn't snap another one. "But it would be a lot easier if you attended all my lectures."

"Aww, come on, Dr. Reed," he moaned, sliding his notebook a little closer. "I had to go surfing on Tuesday. Hey, you should come next time. I'll give you lessons if you bump my grade up just a little bit."

"Luca."

"I was kidding," he mumbled, collecting his notebook and the packet of extra practice problems she had given him to work on. "See you next week."

"Bye, Luca," she replied, opening her office door for him. And then her heart started pounding as her eyes caught on the man who was leaning against the hallway wall opposite her door.

"Bye, Professor," Luca said before he set his skateboard down and pushed off with one foot. But Jessica was too distracted by Jake Seresin to remind Luca for the hundredth time that he wasn't allowed to skate in the academic buildings.

"Reedy," Jake said softly with a tentative smile. She was honestly shocked he was here on campus again. For the third time this week. Apparently he took her note about office hours seriously.

"Jake. I'm surprised to see you here."

He just shook his head slightly and said, "You really shouldn't be."

Her blood felt too hot in her veins as he pushed away from the wall. He was all chiseled jaw, green eyes and immaculate hair, and she was once again left wondering what the catch was. The khaki uniform was back, just like Monday night, and she wondered once again if he came here straight from work instead of stopping home.

"I'm here for your office hours," he added, taking a step closer to her. He was big and strong and a lot taller than her. And the way she just knew Jake would let her run her fingers along his pins just like she'd done with his patches was making her ears feel warm and fuzzy.

Well, this was embarrassing. She hadn't been gone for a guy this bad in over a year. Not since Brian Conley. But she couldn't even focus on anything else right now, because she was devoting all of her energy to trying to say something intelligent to Jake. Where were all of her quips and clever remarks? She must have left them at Chippy's on Monday night, because she hadn't heard from them since.

"Come on in," she told him, and she left the note on the small whiteboard in the hallway letting anyone else who might show up know that her office was occupied. "What can I do for you?"

She didn't mean for that sentence to sound so suggestive, but she noted the pink flush on Jake's cheeks as she closed her door and leaned back against it. He was close but not too close, and his eyes drifted down over her uninspired pantsuit in such an appreciative way that it made her feel like she was wearing a pretty cocktail dress. Or maybe even less than that.

"You could give me your phone number."

She smirked at his statement and at the soft Texas drawl. She went to A&M for four years. She could tell he was a homegrown Texas boy who had somehow ended up transplanted in southern California. Maybe a little out of his element, just like her. Maybe trying to forget and move on, just like her.

When her eyes drifted to what he was holding, she asked, "Did you read the article? In Propulsion Science?"

He glanced down at the stack of journals and the notebook in his big hand, and said, "I read them all. Cover to cover. I have some notes and a few questions."

When he glanced back up and met her eyes, she cocked her head to one side. "Seriously? You read all of them?"

"Yes," he replied immediately.

She walked past him, letting her fingers brush the back of his hand longingly. When she took her seat, he was leaning on the opposite side of her desk with both hands and looking down at her. He already asked for her phone number. Twice. It was a bold move, playing hard to get with a man as handsome as Jake. But the steady rise and fall of his chest and his softly parted lips while he gave her his full attention was addicting.

"Take a seat," she said softly. "Show me what you have."

He groaned quietly and pulled the other chair a bit closer, and Jessica soon found herself a little warm again. While he wasn't a PhD candidate, his notes on the journal articles were thoughtful and his questions were insightful.

"This journal of physical chemistry had the most interesting article on engine mechanics, but I must admit, I was a bit lost when they talked about the implementation of fuel combustion calculations," he said, holding out his notebook for her to take. "What's your opinion, Dr. Jessica?"

This was clearly a man who gave great consideration to his aircraft and what he did all day at work. And that was hot. He was smart, and he thought she was smart. And he wasn't afraid to acknowledge either of those things.

When she slowly stood, she could practically feel his eyes on her body. "It's my opinion that you should read this accompanying article." She turned toward her bookshelf and couldn't help but glance back at him over her shoulder. His gaze met hers right away, and she stumbled a bit in her high heels. She had to steady herself before she reached up to the top shelf on her tiptoes.

"Allow me," Jake said, and the soft scrape of his chair on the floor was followed by his warm body just inches behind hers. "Which one is it?"

She thought about sliding out of his way. She considered that he'd have an easier time reaching the correct journal if she wasn't also standing in front of the shelf, but she didn't move an inch. "One with a blue spine," she whispered as he reached up past her head and ran his fingers along the journals.

"One of these ones?" he asked, moving his fingers very slowly along the spines from left to right.

"Mmhmm," she hummed as his chest pressed against the back of her shoulder. He grabbed several journals with blue spines and gently took them down from the shelf and placed them in her hands. His voice was right there next to her ear.

"There you go, Reedy."

His big hand brushed her waist before he stepped away from her, and she turned to face him, ready to throw the journals across the room in favor of pulling him closer again. "But they're for you," she said, sounding a little bit out of breath.

Jake was rubbing the back of his neck now, cheeks flushed as he reached out to take them back. "Right." His voice was rough, and Jessica plopped back down into her seat with very little grace.

She cleared her throat twice before saying, "The one on the top of the stack has a great accompanying article that you should read. And if you really want to know about the calculations, I can show you sometime."

"I'll read all of them," he replied, eyes soft on her face as she awkwardly adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers.

"I do appreciate a man who reads in his spare time," she whispered. It looked like Jake was ready to jump out of the chair again, and she kind of wished he would. Because she was currently thinking about crawling across the desk and onto his lap, and letting herself touch all of his pins while she tasted his lips.

She jumped in her chair when there was a sharp knock on the door, and suddenly Jake looked even more flustered. "Come in!" she called out, but she couldn't seem to take her eyes off Jake.

"Dr. Reed,'' came a gratingly annoying voice from her doorway. It was Dr. Leeland, and he was looking between Jessica and Jake like something deviously untoward was going on in here. But that's what everything thought about her, she supposed.

"Dr. Leeland, how can I help?" she asked, smiling apologetically at Jake who was now rising out of his seat. Leeland was looking at him like he was trying to place who he was, and Jessica had to hide her smile. She kind of hoped he didn't recognize the man who called him out on his incorrect math during the mini lecture.

"Need help with my printer," he growled, and Jessica was on her feet now, walking around her desk.

"Sure," she replied as smoothly as she could with Jake standing right next to her. "I'll be right there."

She watched Leeland shuffle back out into the hallway before she looked up at Jake. "Damn," he whispered. "I thought maybe I'd be able to talk you into another three dollar beer and some peanuts."

She bit her lip and said, "He'll have me in there for at least an hour helping him, guaranteed. So maybe another time?"

"I'll be thinking about it all weekend, Jessica."

Then she reached up and ran her index finger along his name tag, tracing S E R E S I N before tapping his lieutenant insignia gently. And he just let her do it with the softest look in his eyes.

"Yeah. Me too."

---------------------------

On Saturday night at the Hard Deck, Jake was happy to see that Bradshaw and his wife were both there. He knew what kind of beer she liked, so he flagged down Penny at the bar and ordered one along with his own glass of bourbon. Then he sipped his drink as he walked over to her.

Jake smirked, because she never looked quite happy to see him, but she did accept the beer when he handed it to her. "Thanks," she told him, "but you're not usually this nice to me. What's up?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm.... nice."

She chuckled as Rooster walked back over to her after Nat kicked his ass at pool. "You're alright, Jake, but I'm not stupid. I know what you want."

"Sugar," Rooster whined. "You got another beer but didn't grab me one, too?"

"Jake got it for me," she said, pulling the bottle further away when he reached for it. "It's a bribe, but I want to hear him admit it."

She looked at Jake again with a knowing smile, and when she pressed the bottle to her lips, he said, "Fine. It's a bribe. I want you to tell me everything you know about Jessica Reed."

Bradley rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek. "I'll be with Nat."

"So?" Jake said when they were alone again. "Will you tell me? Because that woman is driving me insane, and she won't even give me her phone number."

"Yikes. You can usually seal the deal right away," she said, glancing around the always crowded bar. "I can count like four women here who you've hooked up with."

Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he downed the rest of his bourbon. "Please?" he asked calmly.

She was quiet as she sipped her beer. "I actually don't know her very well," she said a little cautiously. "I eat lunch with her occasionally, because everyone else seems to avoid her. Especially everyone who works in the science departments."

This was puzzling to Jake. Jessica was the most interesting woman he'd met in a long time. She was even nice to Dr. Leeland when he asked her for help. He honestly couldn't imagine anyone wanting to avoid her on purpose. "You sure she's not just a bit of a loner by nature or something?"

But she just shrugged. "Come on, Sugar," Jake begged, using the name Rooster called her. "Be sweet, and just tell me what her deal is."

She laughed and said, "I like her just fine. I have no problem with her. But whether or not there is any truth behind them, Jessica is the subject of a lot of rumors."

"Rumors?" Jake's mind was immediately swirling. Jessica with her glasses and her high heels and nerdy journals and soft smiles. "What do you mean?"

"I try not to get involved, so I don't know too much. But something definitely went down between her and the head of the chemistry department. And I heard one of the other physics professors call her a slut behind her back."

Jake's grip tightened so hard and so fast on his empty glass, he was convinced he was going to break it. "She's fucking sweet," he growled. "And a damn better teacher than anyone else in her department. And nobody should be calling anyone a slut in a professional setting."

"I don't disagree with you," she said quickly. gently touching his hand. "But you asked. So I told you."

Jake nodded and said, "You're right. I asked. Thank you."

"Sure, Jake," she said softly, turning toward her husband. "And thanks for the beer."

He watched her walk into Rooster's welcome arms. He held her with a laugh while he juggled a pool cue, and Jake felt a pang of jealousy. He never used to mind being the one who was always single, but even he could admit that it would be nice to be around someone who was smart and funny and kind. And have them want to be around you.

By late Sunday morning, Jake decided he didn't actually care about any rumors where Jessica was concerned. He liked her. He could tell she liked him. He kept replaying the way her face looked as she traced his patches and pins with her gentle fingers.

He couldn't tell if she was playing coy or toying with him, but he would stand there all day long in her office and let her do anything she wanted to him as long as she was looking up at him with that outwardly needy expression. And he wanted to touch her back, run his hands along her hips and pull her close, but he still didn't even have her number.

But he did still have her San Diego State faculty profile open in his phone browser, and his thumb was hovering over her email address.

----------------------------

Jessica knew Monday morning was going to be a struggle. They always were. After a weekend of going out with friends and taking a luxurious Sunday afternoon nap, facing Brian for the weekly faculty meeting was going to be hell. But she got dressed, fixed her hair and put her glasses on. She made sure she was on time. She made sure there was nothing for anyone to complain about when it came to her.

And just like always, she was sitting off toward the back of the small auditorium alone, sipping some coffee and counting down the minutes until the clock hit 9:00 and she could go up to her office.

"Now, for those of you who are not on a tenure track yet," Brain Conley said, turning to glance at her, "make sure you pay close attention."

He was such an ass. Just such a handsome looking fucking asshole. Everyone knew that Dr. Nguyen and Jessica were the only two that statement applied to, and this was his first year out of grad school. He was like twenty four. But Jessica looked down the row of seats and smiled at Dr. Nguyen who smiled back while he blushed. And then she listened to Brian drone on and on about excellence in education and involvement on campus.

By the time she made it up to her office, her coffee had soured in her stomach, and she felt like crying. But she had an hour to pull herself together before she had to teach Physics 103 to a bunch of lazy sophomores. While her computer started up, she opened the newest journal that had been delivered to her mailbox on campus and smiled. Maybe there was something in here that Jake would be interested in. Not that she really expected him to keep stopping by. He would lose interest.

She skimmed the journal index, checking out the article topics as she logged into her school email account. And the newest email right up at the top was from jake.seresin. She pushed the journal aside and squealed as she opened it up, shocked that he had found a way to contact her again.

Dear Dr. Reed,

Thank you again for your excellent journal suggestions. I've read them all cover to cover, and I'm a little nervous to tell you that I think I've become a bit addicted to the subject matter. I find it fascinating to learn more about military aircrafts in general, but visiting your office hours has really piqued my interest in many other things as well.

I hope you don't mind that I plan on returning on Tuesday night. This time I'd like to try my hand at solving some of the physics equations with you. I'll bring a sharp pencil, but I'll probably skip the skateboard. You didn't seem too keen on that one, and I just find myself wanting you to be impressed by me.

Also, Jessica, this would be a lot easier over text, but I'll play along. For now. Looking forward to your office hours (and hopefully you are, too?).

Jake

P.S.- You should have seen how long it took me to actually type up this email. Your SDSU faculty photo has been continually distracting me for days, and I think I looked at it so long that my email timed out.

She screamed in delight. Jessica clapped her hands over her mouth, pushing her chair back from her desk, kicking her feet. She stared at the screen for a few seconds before she decided how she wanted to respond, and then she just went for it.

----------------------------

Dr. Jessica, we would all be kicking out feet, too! More than meets the eye with Jessica... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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510 notes · View notes

soraontop · 2 months

Text

II. I WON’T SAY (I’M IN LOVE)

title i won’t say (i’m in love)

summary it’s that first “oh. oh.” moment for sora. chapter 2 to ‘10 things i hate about you’ series

genre fluff, angst, slice of life ???

characters jung sora (8th female member oc of enhypen), jake sim, brief cameos of other enhypen members xx

warnings poly ot7 enhypen au with 8th female member. sora is difficult and emotionally stunted. feelings realization. implications of sora’s not so great home life.

words 3,033

note sorry im a professional procrastinator thats why it took forever 😭 this just isnt my only focus sjfndjd i focus on so many things at once lmao. anyways, pls let me know what u guys think and if theres anything yall wanna see ?? like in the past or present time !!

PREVIOUS.

ISEULLIE: sora check out this video LOL it’s hilarious

ISEULLIE: [link]

Sora stares down at her phone, the YouTube video thumbnail staring back up at her. scorpioz being scorpioz, the title said with the thumbnail saying ‘sorajake being sorajake’. Her brows furrow, eyes darting between the picture of her and Jake mid-laugh, staring at one another over the heads of the other boys.

She curiously clicks the link, and it’s a matter of fifteen seconds before she’s giggling at her phone. She never responds to Iseul until later. In her head, she can’t even hear the bustling noise of Jay making lunch for the group and her members shouts— not that she paid much mind to it, anyway. She grew up as the only girl in a family full of boys, she could typically deal with the noise. The video sends her into a whole new world of Engene made videos of the group, mostly watching the ones concerning her. Almost every video she watches includes Jake. A lot.

She’s never realized how much she really talks to or about Jake. Yes, she’s thought about the ‘what if?’ question that Jake was never in her life and how she’d deal without him. (Her answer: She couldn’t.) But for there to be so many parts to a video series titled “Reasons to Ship JakeSora” was a bit ridiculous.

A knock on her door interrupts her watching, making her sit up in shock before she quickly swipes out of the app and clears her throat, glancing around her room for anything out of place— as if that would tell on her for watching fan made videos of her and her members. Oh, she thinks she’d genuinely die if she was caught. She can never do that again.

“Come in,” she says, hoping the person behind the door wouldn’t notice the waver in her voice. The knob turns and the door opens, revealing Jake standing with a cup of steaming hot ramen in hand. She blinks. Speak of the devil …

Jake grins that stupid crooked smile, kicking the door shut behind him gently. “You haven’t eaten all day, are you going on strike?” Amusement shines in his eyes and she rolls her eyes, an automatic response at this point. He’s almost as bad as Sunghoon, she swears. He holds out the ramen and a pair of chopsticks to her.

“Just too lazy to get up,” she manages to bite back a grin as her lips threaten to twitch. She takes it carefully, blowing on it gently and looks up at the older boy. “Thank you.” She tries not to spit the words out as if they’re poison, but old habits die hard.

Jake notices, but he doesn’t mention it. “Do you want to go watch a movie?” He asks instead, seemingly holding his breath for her reaction.

Sora smiles slightly, feeling her heart warming in her chest, “Yeah, what are we gonna watch?” She grabs her phone and ramen, shoving the phone in her pajama shorts for a free hand.

“I meant, like,” he waves his hand at her, fumbling for the words, “Outside. At a theater.” He then hastily clarifies, “With me.”

“In public?” Sora blinks, surprised. He wants to go out in public with her where it’s inevitable for a fan or some to catch them. Yes, they were seen in public all the time but that was when it was for a schedule. He nods silently.

Strangely enough, to her, it was more intimate to be seen out together without any staff or other members. It meant that he wanted to be seen with her in public.

For a brief, panicky moment, her heart stops at the thought.

Swallowing the taste in her mouth with a bite of ramen, she slowly nods, “Okay. What movie?”

Jake proceeds to ramble on about the movie, what it was about, who was starring in it, what he liked about the trailer. She tries to listen, she really does— but she suddenly finds his lips a lot more interesting. Without even meaning to, her eyes keep dropping from his eyes to his mouth, watching as he’d momentarily pull his bottom lip between his teeth as he thought about something before saying it.

Horror suddenly fills her chest once she realizes what she’s doing, eyes widening and a small gasp leaving her mouth. Jake, who hears, stops, looking at her in concern, “What? What is it?”

Sora’s face goes blank. “Nothing, the ramen just burned my tongue.”

Jake looks more concerned now, “Shit, I’m sorry, Sora.” He starts to lean forward and she tenses, looking at him with wide eyes as he … tries to inspect her mouth? What the hell was happening? Why was he so concerned? “Is your tongue OK? Let me see—”

Sora was already panicked with how close he was— imagine how much that tripled when he cupped her cheek and tried to urge her to open her mouth. Her heart pounding was so loud in her ears that it blocked out everything else Jake was saying. She didn't know what she was thinking, all she knew was that she had to get away from him and fast, preferably before her heart burst out of her chest.

In her haste to get away, she completely forgot about the cup of ramen in her lap and didn’t secure it before jolting up. With a painful gasp, the ramen tips over and spills over her clothes and bed. To prevent from letting out any other painful mutters, she bit down on her tongue— hard. It wasn’t as bad as she had previously said it was, but it was still warm— warm enough to hurt badly.

“Shit! Sora—” Jake bolts up after her, looking at her soaked clothes with wide eyes. “Fuck, fuck— are you OK?!” He doesn’t wait for her reply before he’s shouting out into the dorm, “Hyung! Jay! Jungwon! Sora’s hurt!”

Oh, don’t tell them that, Jake! A voice in her head groans. She never wants to worry them.

Sora faintly notices the lull of conversation from the boys outside, before she hears multiple loud footsteps rushing towards her room. She shakes her head as her door is pushed open, revealing the rest of her members crowded in the doorway. Jay pushed himself to the front, closely followed by Heeseung and Sunghoon with wide, frantic eyes.

She tries to reassure them that she’s OK, that it’s just a little spill, and a little of a burning, but nothing she’s never handled before. But their voices are overlapping, asking what happened, if she was OK, and Jungwon was rushing in with two towels, quickly wrapping one around her and putting one on the floor to clean up the ramen.

Sora blinks at the noise, getting tired of hearing the same questions so she huffs, raising her voice as she shouts, “Shut up!”

The boys shut up. Sunghoon, even in his worry, manages to raise his eyebrows and point a finger at him as if to ask, “Me?”

She breathes out, looking down at her now dirty clothes, “Thank you. I’m fine. It’s just a little spill.”

“A little spill?” Heeseung asks in disbelief, “Your skin’s red because of how hot it is, Sora.”

She looks down again, tilting her head to see the redness Heeseung claims to see. “Huh.” She murmurs, seeing how unusually red her skin was. “Well … It doesn’t feel that bad.”

“You’re going to feel it in a minute,” Jay quickly grabs her by the wrist gently, pulling her out of her room, passing by the concerned Sunoo and Niki. Her skin tingles where he grabs her, and she’s not so sure the redness on her skin is from the ramen anymore. “Hurry, go take a shower— No hot water. We’ll clean this up, don’t worry.”

“Oh, no, really, I’m fine,” Sora laughs lightly, shaking her head, “Like, it’s really not even that bad—”

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother letting her finish her sentence, picking her up and basically dragging her to the bathroom. She can feel Jake’s apologetic and worried eyes on her as she’s dragged out of her own room. “Hey!” She quickly hits him lightly on the shoulder, “Let me go!”

“Alright,” he shrugs, letting Niki push open the bathroom door and quickly shoves her in. She whirls around just in time for the bathroom door to shut in her face.

Her mouth drops open, “Sunghoon!”

“Sunghoon Oppa,” he corrects.

“You earn that title!” Sora hits the door lightly, trying to wiggle the doorknob, but it doesn’t open, “Let me out! I’m OK, please don’t clean it up, I’ve got it!”

“Already started,” Niki’s voice comes through the door, “Too late. Get in the shower before it gets worse, noona, please.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Jungwon chastises her lightly next, “You know it’s the smart thing to do.” She can’t help but feel appalled, again.

“But—”

“No buts!” She can hear Heeseung shout from her room.

Sora resists the urge to throw a tantrum like she would have nearly six years ago. She sighs, the warmth now a dull ache. “I don’t even have clothes to change into!”

“We’ll get you new clothes,” Sunoo reassures her from outside the door now.

“Don’t go through my room!” She says loudly, starting off as a shriek before she forces herself to quieten down. It reminded her too much of her old self. “Just let me out and I’ll—”

“Let you out so you can lock yourself in another room?” Sunghoon sounds somehow both amused and serious now, and she has no idea how, “Get in the shower, Sora.”

“I’ll get you clothes, Sora,” Sunoo says gently, then there was a light thump on the door. She wonders if he’s resting his head on the door like she is. (He is.) “Don’t worry, I won’t snoop or anything.”

“I know, but …” Her voice is uncharacteristically weak, “Just … Get me a shirt and pants, please. I’ll get the rest …” She feels awkward saying it, her brothers were far too young to even want to help her with anything. She wasn’t used to this, being taken care of. She didn’t like it. She also just didn’t want any of the boys going through her room and finding things she never wanted them to see.

There’s a pause, and then footsteps walk away from the bathroom door, but she can tell one or two people are still on the opposite side.

“Sunoo’s getting your clothes,” Sunghoon murmurs, and there’s another pause, “Don’t be stubborn. You know we just want to help.” His footsteps then walk away, too, and she finally relaxes, swallowing as she turns to face the bathroom mirror. The mirror is slightly still fogged from whoever took a shower earlier, and she swipes at it with her hand to look at her body clearly.

She winces at the redness on her arms and thighs, knowing from experience that it would hurt way less later on. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to their managers.

“Sora,” she jumps when she heard Jake’s soft voice on the other side, turning as if she could see him. She slowly walks closer to the door as he says, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to spill on you.”

“It’s OK,” she shakes her head, frowning to herself. “It wasn’t your fault at all, I’m the one who spilled it.”

“But I brought it to you—”

“It should’ve been on the table,” Sora says it like it’s final, leaving no room for an argument. Jake doesn’t reply for a moment and she wonders if he left, but she didn’t hear him walk away.

“Still, it must’ve hurt a lot,” Jake insists.

“I’m used to it,” the words come out of her mouth before she can even think it through. She visibly recoils once she realizes, mouth parting in shock as she starts to frantically look around as if it’d give her an excuse on why she said that. “I— Uh—”

“What do you mean?” Jake asks, his tone being mixed of confusion and cautiousness, and she can imagine him standing on the other side with that cute confused look he gets. She curses herself for somehow managing to think about something like that in a situation like this. It’s just the videos getting to her, she knows it.

Sora sighs, “I just mean I’ve been cooking for a long time, remember? My mom taught me young.” Kind of, but this time she keeps the truth to herself.

“Oh, right,” Jake laughs, sounding relieved. “You know, I thought for a second …” Don’t say it, don’t say it. “You know what? Nevermind. Just … I’m sorry, OK?” Before they can get into another little argument over the same topic, she hears his footsteps walking away.

Sora wants to scream. Her face falls into her hands, slumping against the door. Her hand comes back and lightly smacks herself on the head, “Why, why, why …” So stupid of her to be so careless. They didn’t need to know anything in her home life. That was a mistake.

Why did she feel so compelled to just spill her guts out to Jake? That was the last thing she needed was for him to know anything in general. Sure, the basic stuff about her was fine, but he, nor the others, needed to know anything about her home life. She knew they’d overreact, and she just wanted life to slow down a bit so she could catch her breath.

Forcing herself off the door, she sighs loudly and starts the cold water.

Sora really can’t understand why she’s doing this to herself.

She really does try her best to not avoid Jake the next few days, she doesn’t want him thinking she blames him for the spill, but she also just … needs space. Every time he touches or jokingly flirts with her, even when he just talks to her or says her name, her heart starts pounding and her face gets warm. She’s tired of it, and needs a break. So if she stays close to Sunoo or Heeseung for the majority of the next week, he doesn’t think anything of it.

It’s the middle of the week, and ENHYPEN are at dance practice, already practicing for their first comeback despite still in the middle of promotions for Given-Taken. Sora is ever so unsuspecting, pushing her hair back up with a ponytail as the only sound in the room was her and her members’ loud out of breath panting. The choreographer claps once, “Good job, guys. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

Sora forces herself to respectfully bow as her members do, waving goodbye to the staff and choreographer that leave. The only people in the room now are the group and their managers, Wooseok and Hyosun, and she glances around to see that Wooseok is calling someone and Hyosun is texting. She turns to look for her water bottle that was no longer in the same place it was before, but is startled when two water bottles were presented to her at the same time.

Feeling a creeping sense of dread, she presses her lips together and looks up, finding both Jay and Jake holding out bottles of water to her. She glances between the two, who glance at her and then to the waters and then to each other. Both of their hands move like they’re going to take it back, but when they both catch what the other is doing, they freeze.

“Um,” Sora murmurs, feeling awkward as her face heats up, mostly out of embarrassment and slightly flustered. She doesn’t like the position she’s in, at all. She notices movement in the corner of her eye and turns her head to see Niki holding up her lilac water bottle in his hand slightly from his spot against the wall. “Yeah, thanks but …” She gestures to Niki, quickly grabbing it from him and starting to chug it down. Half because she really was thirsty, the other half because she wanted to ignore the situation.

Avoiding eye contact with the other members, who were watching the awkward moment, she sits in between Heeseung and Sunoo. Pressing the cool bottle against her cheek, she waits a few moments before looking back up to see if anyone was still staring at her.

Her eyes connect with Jay’s and she abruptly turns her head back to the floor, feeling her face get impossibly hot, even with the water bottle. She feels like she just got caught doing something she shouldn’t have done.

There had to be something seriously wrong with her.

“Your face is really red,” Heeseung whispers from beside her, and she turns her head to stare at him. He blinks. She blinks before turning her head back to the floor.

“Yeah, we just got done practicing,” she mutters, swallowing. She’s afraid if she stares any longer, he’ll be able to know what she’s thinking.

Here’s the thing— Sora isn’t dumb. She was placed in the top three of her class, and she was sure to get into any university she wanted. She’s also been in a relationship before, she’s had plenty of crushes— she knows. But she can’t.

Not when they’re her members.

If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t think much into it and would let it pan out.

And it wasn’t even just one of them. It was two. She really was proving netizens right. And she hated it. So what was she going to do?

Ignore it and hope it goes away. And if not, well … She was pretty sure that plan would work. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if it didn’t.

As long as she remains strictly platonic with her members, everything would be fine. She’s worked too damn hard to get where she is now, she’s been through two survival shows, and she wasn’t going to go on another one again. She would succeed in her dream.

Still, she seems to forget that the heart wants what it wants.

191 notes · View notes

dnsbarbie · 1 month

Text

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Nepo!OC

Summary: Sofina tells Charles about a conversation she had with her father and he reacts quite the opposite of what she thinks.

Next Chapter

Notes: Please let me know if you want to be included in the tag list!

February 27, 2024, a few days after Pre-Season Testing

It was a fairly sunny morning in Bahrain. The flawlessly trimmed grass glistened in the bathing rays of the celestial fireball in the sky. Three people stood under the heated air, sweat accumulating in their foreheads. The two men stared at the figure of their female companion with with a furrow in their brow and a tug on their lips.

They stood back and watched her swing her arm back, fingers gripping the club firmly. With a powerful force, a thunderous crack shot through the clearing as she hit the ball with the greatest precision.

Her friends behind her jolted at the sound, goosebumps rising in their arms and prickling at the back of their necks.

Charles snorted, slapping Pierre Gasly’s arm in the process. The french man responded by laughing at their own reaction, coming to pull against the sleeve of Charles’s shirt as they wheezed.

A groan of indignation cut through their hysteria, making both men seal their mouth instantly, slowly rotating their gaze at the agitated girl in front of them.

She takes the club, slamming it in the grass. The fierce contact caused soil to splatter on her white sneakers.

Charles hid his lips in his mouth while Pierre pursed his into a low whistle.

“Quiet.”

“I was—oof,” Pierre groaned, retracting his defense as an elbow jabbed into his side. Eyes narrow into slits, he glared at the prideful face of Charles as he rubbed away the pain.

“You’re doing great, Sofi!” He held his thumbs up, hoping to lighten the murderous look on her face.

“I can’t fucking believe he did that. . .” Sofina stressed, laying a slapping on her forehand.

“Why not? Man’s an asshole.”

Horror blasted on Charles’s face as he heard Pierre’s reply. His mouth agape as he stared at his friend.

Pierre brushed off his accusing gaze, motioning his hands to Sofina for support. “What? It’s true! We all know it!”

“Oh, yes. Let everyone know how much I despise our biggest sponsor,” Charles quipped, raising a brow at him.

Sofina muted out their pointless bickering, as she regulated her breathing. The excessive blood flow in her head throbbed painfully, almost as if it could burst a vein in any second. She fanned out her shirt, irritated by the fabric sticking to her slick skin as heat consumed her being. One could argue that her head was a hundred times hotter than Bahrain’s current climate and worsen the hole in the ozone layer.

The memory of her furry slammed back into her brain, jotting into a humorless laugh. “He humiliated me in front of important people!”

“Ey— what’s the big deal? Their just smelly old men—”

“What’s the big deal?”

Charles’s face twisted into despair, shifting his gaze to Pierre with a deep scowl on his face.

“Will you ever stop talking?” He sighed, massaging his temples with his fingers while Pierre shot him an apologetic smile.

“Those smelly old men happen to have a ridiculous amount of money that they were so graciously willing to give me,” She screeched, gritting her teeth. “And if it wasn’t for my dad’s malicious comments against me, I would’ve gotten the team more sponsors!”

“Sponsors?” Charles echoed, her concern suddenly taking his attention. His head tilted and lips thinned in wonder. “Why are you worried about our sponsors?"

Sofina’s saliva dried in her mouth, unconsciously making her wet her lips as her heart hammered in her chest. She swore the pounding could be heard in her ears, overpowering the words that were supposedly coming out of Charles’s moving mouth.

“Sofina?”

She gasp, stumbling backwards as her head returned to the world. Before she knew it, her leg got caught in her club bag, tripping her and making her fall to the ground in a soft thud.

In a second Charles was by her fallen figure.

A groan escaped her lips, a hand instinctively rubbing on her calf. She saw Charles’s hand approaching her throbbing leg and opt to hold his hand instead.

He snapped his eyes back at her, looking for signs of distress but only found a flooding dam of fear clouding her usual malt musing mountain gaze.

She swallowed the thick bile rising in her throat as she returned his stare, bracing herself. Her hand in his began to chill and quake, causing her to grip them harder.

In their predicament, Pierre had wisely chosen to take his leave, leaving the two alone to deal with the unknown situation.

“Promise me you won’t get mad,” She demanded, focusing her wide eyes on him. “And that you won’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.” Charles said without a hint of hesitation but his growing worry sent a shiver down his spine.

There were a few moments in Sofina’s life that made her wear that expression. Charles knows this because he was there through all of them. They were all dark and awful times. So, now that he had witness it again after a long time, he prepared for the blow of reality to come at him.

Charles squeezed her hand, reminding her of his presence. A sign of hope and someone who was listening.

Sofina applied a weaker dose back, trying again despite the rattling in her bones. “My dad said he’ll pull out all our brands and support if you’re not competitive enough this year.”

Nothing. Torturous silence punched her in the face. The empty grassland filled with wallowing in the ghostly rustle of the wind.

Charles’s lips parted, and Sofina immediately shut her eyes as if to protect herself from his impending response.

“That’s it?”

Her eyes shot open so strongly, she might’ve pulled a muscle. She squinted at him, similar to someone observing a newly discovered animal in the wild.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“Well, yeah,” His laugh burned her core, finding it insulting that he thought it was rather amusing. He tugged her arm, leaning closer to her space.

Sofina resisted the pull, shifting her body in the opposite direction. The contents of her embarrassment was far too great to be at such proximity right now.

Nonetheless, her attempts were futile as he was able to overpower her strength.

Her shoulders drooped in defeat as he got the distance he wanted. A sharp intake of breath entered her lungs at the hot air of his mouth near her lips. His nose almost touching hers as his eyes bore into her own.

“You scared me,” He said, pecking her cheek and leaving her confused. “I thought he did something to you.”

Her brain pounded at his words, lines in her forehead increasing. “He did! Did you not listen?”

Charles merely sighed, offering her an empathic smile. “No, I meant— to you.” He pinched her cheeks lightly, earning a small protest from the back of her throat. “You— Not your company!”

The indication hackled at her system. Perhaps not clearly understanding the heartfelt weight of his words.

She reeled back from his hold, mystified cross in her brow. “I am talking about person me!” Her sneer went straight to Charles’s heart, forcing out a breath from the deepest parts of his patience.

“You know what I mean,” He drawled, getting to his feet and offering to help her up.

Sofina looked away, but nonetheless gripped his helping hand. “Alright . . .”

“Sofie,” He called, tugging her closer. Due to their differences in height, Sofina’s face plummeted at his hard chest when he unexpectedly cocooned her into an embrace. “It’s going to be okay. You don’t know what those people think about you yet until you’ve talked to them again, yes?”

Her grunt was muffled as she dug her fave further onto his shirt. “I don’t need to know. My dad said I was an unreliable child trying hard, and miserably failing, to sound like an adult.”

Charles wasn’t surprised in the slightest. The relationship between Sofina and her father was similar to pa maze without an exit. Mr. Saviano himself is an outspoken intimidating man who has done nothing but criticize his daughter’s every move.

“But you know that’s not true.” He insisted, tightening his hold on her as if to squeeze out her negativity.

“He still said it. You know they worship the ground he walks on,” She hackled, jutting her chin up to look at Charles’s face. “Long live Amarigo Saviano, patron saint of the self-centered and money grabbing.”

Charles made a razzing noise at the back of his throat, taken aback by the sudden insult. “Well—”

Sofina was also unable to contain a smirk as she saw Charles struggling to maintain a poker face. “You can laugh, it’s funny,” She muttered, laying her cheek below his breastbone, shoulders beginning to shake.

“No . . . uh— heh, as I was saying— stop laughing!” There he goes, infected by the girl shamelessly giggling at her own joke.

“Oke. . .” She tried, burying her head on the soft material of his shirt.

Charles cleared his throat, but the smile on his face remained. “I spoke to Nicolas this morning and he said there was someone who didn’t seem to care about what your father said at that party last night . . .”

Doubt and curiosity simmered in Sofina’s veins at his claim. “He was probably too drunk to actually comprehend what he was saying, then” She scoffed.

Charles continued, paying no mind to her reply. “Maximilian Rothchild doesn’t look like a heavy drinker,”

At that, Sofina’s head shot up from his chest, eyes wide as if she’d seen an alien. “You’re kidding . . . Charles I fucking swear—“

“He called Fred, asking about the team and was hoping to set up a meeting with us as soon as possible.”

“Holy shit . . .” She squealed, airy and full of disbelief. “Maximilian Rothchild, huh?”

Charles’s lip tugged into a teasing smirk at the look on her face. “Didn’t you go out with him?”

She grimaced, lip curling in distaste at his allegation.

It wasn’t an allegation at all. She did go on a date with him a several years back when she went to high school in France. It didn’t blossom into a relationship as they both hope it would due to unforeseen circumstances between their families.

“It wasn’t anything serious.” She muttered. “He thought I was pretty and asked me out, he wasn’t bad to look at either so I agreed— you know this story already,”

Charles chuckled at the flooding irritation in her voice, finally nodding to relieve her from the storm of ragging in her eyes.

“You agreed, you went on the date and completely blew it,”

Sofina whacked him in the shoulder, a frown forming at her lips. “No I didn’t! Our families were— and still are business rivals. But I still don’t get the point of trying to square up to such influential people . . .” She shook her head.

The Rothchilds have been around longer than the Savianos. Back then, it was clear that they were barely at the fourth of their efforts when they mercilessly dragged the Saviano name into the mud and dubbed them as “Amateur Magnets”.

The insult did not leave a scratch on Sofina’s pride, and truthfully she found it more hilarious than embarrassing, for she wasn’t delusional enough to believe they would ever stand a chance against a family who established the whole European banking system. The Rothchilds had every right to throw stones at them. Biting the hand that feeds you never ended well for anybody.

Her father was picking a fight he had already lost the moment it began.

From then on, he declared never to bring a Rothchild before him and in his home.

“When you say he wants a meeting with the team, does that include me?” Sofina wondered.

She may have a big impact on the team but her properties solely remain in brand sponsorships. Due to her age and naivety, according to her father, she cannot touch into the her father’s duties to Ferrari when it comes to team negotiations.

“Definitely.” Charles reassured, head titled down to her glazed gaze. “He said he wanted to talk about sponsoring the team, not buying stocks. So technically, that means for you.”

A smile twitched on Sofina’s lip as she heard Charles’s explanation. “When did become such a smart-ass?”

He laughed, eyes glistening with mirth. “I listen when you talk.”

As if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Glad I can contribute to your knowledge.” She scoffed. “It will come handy one day, just you wait.”

Charles glances down at Sofina, a crease drew on his brow as he observed the same expression on her face.

“You look like you’re about to burst a vein,” He addressed the changed in her mood as he squeezed her side, attempting to bring her head back on earth. “Out with it.”

Sofina extended her hand to flick softly at his cheek, causing him to grimace and glare down at her.

Sofina smiled but sighed, shaking her head. “You’re not a bad driver, Charles . . . I hope you know that.”

Charles kept his gaze at her despite having laid her head back on his chest. Away from her view, the stress on his face carefully melted into a look of delicacy. Fondness bloomed at his chest further more as her grip on him tightened, nearly knocking all the words from his brain.

He cleared his throat, and found himself chuckling at the sipping feelings spilling through his devices.

Sofina’s face twisted into curiosity at his sudden display of amusement. She was about to crane her neck upwards to catch a view of what got him laughing but was denied of this as a palm panned on the back of her head, pressing her back onto her previous position on Charles’s body.

Charles ignored her muffled complaints, his fingers dipping into the seams of her hair and ultimately taking out the clip that held it in a poised bun. He watched as her mahogany tresses flowed through her back, internally shivering as it caressed the arm he had wrapped around her waist.

He admired the bright change of tone as her locks attracted the rays of the sunlight, creating a hypnotic reflection on her head that seemed to take half of what’s left of his consciousness.

The short circuit of his brain took effect as his hands worked faster than his mind. His fingers tipped her chin up, immediately being taken by the delicate features presented upon him.

A pout sitting prettily on her lips as she looked up at him. “Give me that . . .” She huffed, taking the plastic hair clam from him.

He let’s her take it. It’s hers after all. He’ll give her everything in a blink of an eye if she asks. One look from her has him going blank and as her voice floods his head, a pinnacle of sanity whispers in his ear to kneel at her feet and be at her side overrides any form of reason that might pull him away from this angelic fate.

No, he can never tell her that. So instead, he smiles and lays a kiss on the crown of her head, hoping to vanish his silly fantasies.

Tag-list: @seairsunset@mindflay3r@tangointhequango@bwormie@eugene-emt-roe@herondalism@comfortzonequeen@weekendlusting@nomie-11@i-ship-bullshit-2020@cc13723things@charlesgirl16@namgification@charizznorizz@missenclod@outerudeth @lady-laura-speaks @fandomscompilation @bwormie @embersparklz @butterfly-lover @sargeantdumbass @a-moment-captured @starshiips

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #charles leclerc x oc #lewis hamilton #pierre gasly #ferrari #formula one #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charlos #f1 fic #taylor swift #swifties #yoyok

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ganymede-princess · 12 days

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A Hazy Shade of Winter | Angus Tully

PART 2

ship: Angus Tully x fem!OC

warnings: Angus is literally so mean, but he's like that in the movie anyways.

summary: Carol's parents send her to spend the winter break with her uncle at Barton Academy, and a certain curly-haired boy takes an immediate (dis)liking to her.

word count: 2790

a/n: I watched the Holdovers like 2 nights ago and I’m obsessed with it now so here’s this! Maybe a second chapter coming?

written by @ganymede-princess

Misery. Absolute fucking misery. That’s all Angus could see for the foreseeable future. Just an ocean of black, sticky misery, stretching out to the horizon in every direction. As he settled his bony rear on the hard edge of the ping-pong table and listened to Hunham gleefully dole out their sentences, he thought he would vomit any moment, or drop dead. He kind of hoped he would. He scoured his eyes over the pitiful creatures he’d be bunking with this winter break; two little boys: a religious fanatic and a foreign exchage student, the school’s star quaterback, and fucking Kountze. Five little Christmas orphans. Angus would blame karma, if he believed in that hippy-dippy shit. The most unbelievably unfair part of all this was that he wouldn’t even be able to jack off in peace since all five of them would be bunking in rooms one and two of the infirmary, with Hunham in room four. God knows why they couldn’t use room three, but Hunham seemed determined to avoid any questions pertaining to that.

Just when he thought his holiday couldn’t get any worse, the girl arrived. She skittered in like a mouse, out of breath, red-faced and shaking like a handbag dog. Six little Christmas orphans.

“Ah, you’re here.” Hunham extended his hand welcomingly, and gestured to her to step forward.

She crept over, giving the ping-pong table and couch full of boys a wide berth, then nervously shook Hunham’s hand and scuttled away to sit on the floor and tuck her knees up under the frumpy men’s jumper that swallowed her whole, like a turtle retreating into a shell. She waved at the five of them, cherry lips curling into a tight smile.

“Is that a girl?” Kountze said, loudly.

“Indeed, it is. Students, this is Miss Carol Hunham, my niece. She will be joining us at Barton for the winter break.”

“Teddy Kountze.” The little freak said, practically falling over himself to shake her hand. He looked ridiculous crouching there beside her like he was about to accost a rabbit at a petting zoo. If brown-nosing was a sport, he’d be a world classer. “Wonderful to meet you. If you need a tour guide, come to me. I know this place like the back of my hand.”

She nodded in thanks, regarding him with huge puppydog eyes. Angus thought she must be dumb or tongueless. Five-foot-nothing, wearing unfashionably tapered plaid pants and Chelsea boots that were all the rage a decade ago, huge turtle-shell glasses that made her brown eyes bulge out of her head like a salmon… the only cool thing about her was her dirty blonde shag haircut, but even that came across as trying too hard. With that, and those round cheeks and fat mushroom of a nose, Angus almost expected to hear Hunham introduce her as his niece. Almost.

“You’ll be taking her nowhere without a chaperone, Mr Kountze. Now, gentlemen, and lady, off you go to the infirmary building.” Hunham’s one good eye roved over the room, then settled on Angus. “Mr Tully.” He addressed him in his weasley way, voice dripping with schadenfreude. "Be a gentleman and help Miss Hunham take her bags to room three."

Now it made sense why they'd been forced to leave it empty. The little fuck had a whole room to herself.

"I'm not a gentleman." He responded, insolently as possible.

"Then play the part."

"Fine." The ping-pong table screeched backwards as he stood up, grabbed his case and stormed over to the girl who leaped to her feet, eyeing him warily as he marched her out of the room and collected one of her ridiculously heavy suitcases and set off outside with the puppy in tow.

"Um." She began, her voice a pathetic whimper. "I'm Carol Hunham."

"I heard."

"And you?"

"Angus Tully. Are you deaf or something?"

"He d-didn't say your first name." Angus grunted in response. "So, you're- you're holding over?"

"What?" The question was so insipid it made him stop in his tracks and gawk at her. "Of course I'm holding over! Are you stupid?"

"Sorry." She whispered, averting her eyes. Angus felt a rush of regret as her lip trembled, but he swallowed it and marched on.

The air was biting cold, and Angus wished he had two jackets on- or better yet, a hot-blooded model on each arm- but unfortunately he was stuck between this girl making goo-goo eyes at Kountze and her machiavellian gargoyle of an uncle. As the rest of them caught up, his simmering rage suddenly bubbled over and he broke the silence in a voice thick with hatred.

“This is the most bullshit ever! If we have to stay, why’d we have to draw Wall-eye?”

“Uh, y’know he used to be a student, right?” Quaterback drawled.

“Yeah, that’s why he knows how to inflict maximum pain on us, the sadistic fuck.”

“Yeah.” Quaterback agreed with a giggly laugh. “I mean, no offence Hunham, but your uncle sucks.”

“I don’t know him.” The girl had retreated to the fringe of the group, and when she spoke up her voice didn’t command much attention.

“At least we didn’t draw Decker, he’d be perving all over us.” Kountze sidled up alongside her and let his arm brush against her. “And we wouldn’t have Carol here with us.”

Angus rolled his eyes, but felt vindicated when he noticed her pull away from him, almost fearfully.

“Hey, guys, hold up for a second.” Angus leaned up against the pickup at the side of the road and lit up a cigarette, eager to relieve all this tension.

“No, I got something else.” Kountze pulled out a stinking doobie and gestured for his lighter. “Gimme that.”

“Hey, don’t smoke that out here.” He chided. “I don’t wanna get busted by Wall-eye.”

“Don’t be such a pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy.” Angus felt his blood pressure rise. “I just don’t want to get up at Fork Union paying for your mistake.”

Kountze didn’t bother responding, just blew out a fat drag and smiled in satisfaction.

“Teddy Kountze.” He said, offering the joint to Quaterback and trying to sling an arm around Carol but she sidestepped him to Angus’s amusement.

“Jason Smith.” Quaterback responded with a sickeningly charismatic smile.

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Fucking bootlicker. “You wanna hit this?”

He cast a glance up the road, but Wall-eye was nowhere to be seen. “Uh, yeah.”

He took a puff and offered it to Carol.

“No, thanks.” She held up her mittened hand. “I-I hear pot can give you the heebie-jeebies.”

“The heebie-jeebies.” Jason repeated, grinning. “Cute.”

She was sort of cute- Angus begrudgingly admitted now that he’d seen her up close- in that pitiful way that those fucked up little pug-dogs are cute. He wondered if she had asthma. Besides, it’s not like he cared. At least, if somebody like her could be cute, maybe he was too, with his hawkish nose, narrow eyes, five o’clock shadow, gangly limbs, scraggly hair… No, that’s ridiculous. Unless… He wondered if she thought he was.

“It’s mellow stuff, babe.” Kountze assured her.

She blushed and shook her head, then turned her massive obsidian orbs to Angus.

“C-can I…?”

He sighed heavily, arranging his face into a scowl before he handed over the cigarette. She took a dainty puff, then handed it back. He took a drag himself, savouring the knowledge that his lips were touching the same place that a girl’s had just rested.

“More?” He offered it back.

“No, thanks. I don’t really… y’know.”

“‘Course you don’t.” He scoffed and stuffed it back in his mouth. “Such a pristine girl, I bet you never did anything wrong in your life.”

Flushing, she averted her eyes.

“So, how’d you get stuck holding over?” Kountze queried, his demeanor forced casual.

“I’m supposed to be skiing with my folks up at Haystack,” Jason said cheerfully. “But my dad put his foot down, said I can’t come home unless I cut my hair.”

“So why don’t you just cut your hair?” Angus snorted, feeling a fresh rush of anger. How could you throw away a perfectly good winter break just because you’re sentimentally attached to your godamn freak flag?

“Civil disobedience, man.” He grinned.

“I dig it.” Carol spoke up suddenly. “Conformity is a dangerous thing.”

“See, she gets it.” Jason put his arm around her shoulder.

“You like Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young?” Her blonde lashes fluttered as she gazed up at him. Angus could have puked all over the sidewalk, and Kounze looked like he might actually do it.

“Man, I love ‘em!”

“Almost Cut My Hair?”

“My anthem.” He nodded solemnly. “That album was my whole life last summer.”

“Neat.”

Angus noticed her head tilt to rest on his shoulder as he offered her the joint. This time she took it, allowing herself a long drag. He gritted his teeth and fought off the urge to deck that filthy hippy then and there.

“Anyway,” Jason waved his hand, as if clearing the conversational slate. “My dad’s cool. It’s just a battle of wills. Still, I was kinda hoping he’d cave first, because the powder up at Haystack is so sweet right now.”

Jason’s hand made its way into Carol’s hair, curling a lock of it around his finger. Angus’s fist closed involuntarily while Kountze’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, lip slightly curled in frustration.

“What about you, Mr Moto?” He said, locking onto his target. “Why are you here?”

“Uh, no. My name is Ye-Joon.” The boy explained innocently. “Uh, my family is in Korea, and they think it’s too far for me to travel alone.”

“I figured it was because your rickshaw was broken.” Kountze laughed and looked around for approval, to which he found none.

“Uh, wh-what’s a rickshaw?” Ye-Joon seemed genuinely baffled.

“You’re an asshole, Kountze.” Angus said darkly. “Your mind’s a cesspool, and a shallow one at that.”

“Who’s the asshole, Tully?” He sneered back. “You’re the one who blew up history.”

“Hey.” Jason held out his hand gently, then turned to the other kid. “What’s your story, man?”

“Alex Ollerman.” He responded, his voice stronger than the other boy’s. All that faith in a higher power, I guess. “I’m here because my parents are on a mission in Paraguay. We’re LDS.”

“Mormons, right?” The kid nodded proudly.

“Don’t you guys wear some kind of, like, magic underwear?” Kountze gawped.

“That’s a common misconception.” Alex began. It seemed he had all his bases covered, and he turned to address the Korean kid too, as if he might convince someone to join. “Actually, it’s called a temple garment, and we’re only supposed to wear it when we-”

“Hey, what’s up with the townies?” Kountze interrupted, already distracted by something shiny. Angus was mildly relieved he wouldn’t be hearing any more panty-talk- he’d had quite enough for one day, what with his bathing suit and all- but, his relief quickly turned to annoyance when he noticed the two men coming down the road, hauling a Christmas tree between them.

“Hey!” He hollered. “What are you doing with our Christmas tree?”

“The school sold it back to us.” One of them responded. “Scotch pine, still fresh.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna put it back in the lot.” The other explained. “We do it every year.”

Angus turned back to the group and shook his head darkly.

“This is the most bullshit ever.”

______________________________

Angus didn’t think he’d ever be so happy to be in the infirmary, but when they stepped into the heated building, he might have sighed in relief if he wasn't in such a black mood. His arms absolutely caned from carrying that stupid suitcase, and Kountze had been smack talking the whole way up the hill. He thought the only thing worse than bunking with the two kids would be sleeping in with Kountze while he tries to tickle Jason’s balls. He’d much prefer to cosy up in the girl’s room, irritating as her face may be. He abandoned his luggage outside room two and hauled Carol’s down the hallway while she pattered along at his heels.

"Why do you need two cases, anyway?" He sneered, stealing the comfort of silence. "You can't have that much shit to carry."

"It's-" She paused and cleared her throat. "Well... well, why should I tell you, huh? You're- you're-"

"What? An asshole? A jerk? A philistine, as your mole uncle says? Y’know, I'm pretty sure there's a faculty rule against targeted insults towards pupils."

"You're mean." She admitted in a small voice. "And I don't know why."

"Yeah, well get used to it sweetheart. Just wait till Kountze gets over your gyno-gimmick and starts treating you like he does everyone else, you'll be begging for 'mean.' And by the way, you’re just antagonising him by hanging all over Jason all the time.”

“What’s Jason got to do with it?” She snapped, raising her voice for the first time.

“Aw, I hit a nerve, huh?” He delighted in watching her face turn scarlet.

"Y-y'know, when you stood up for Ye-Joon earlier, I thought you might actually be cool. I'm disappointed."

She said nothing else, just ducked her head and ran ahead to open the door for him. Baffled, he barged past her and dumped the suitcase on the nearest bed.

“Thanks.” She whispered.

"Why are you even here, anyway?" He rounded on her, suddenly tired of the way she let him walk all over her. "I mean, other than to ruin the ambience with that hideous sweater-"

That did it. She let out a choking sob and made for the door.

"Hey, hey wait!" He flailed out his long limbs and caught her around the arm, but she wrenched herself from his grip and made off down the hall, away from Hunham and the other boys to Angus' relief. "Carol, wait I didn't mean it."

She didn’t respond, just sped off and careened around the corner. Angus caught up just in time to see the door of the broom closet swing shut. He clucked his tongue and sat down on the hard floor outside, feeling a wave of disgust as he listened to quiet weeping. Gently, he rapped the door with his knuckles.

“Carol?”

“Go away.”

“Carol, I’m sorry.”

“Go away!”

He paused for a moment, and considered his options.

“Your sweater isn’t actually ugly, by the way. I was just ribbing you, y’know? Horseplay?”

“No.” She said firmly, voice muffled through the wood. “No, I know ribbing and that wasn’t it. Y-you were being cruel, and you wanted to see me cry, I know it.”

“What? No!”

“You enjoy it, don’t you? You’re so miserable, the only fun left for you is making everyone else feel as wretched as you.”

He swallowed thickly, feeling a lump of shame coating his Adam’s apple. He took another long moment to collect himself. He resented how easily she read him, but if he wanted to keep her from finking, he’d have to choose his words carefully, and eat a large portion of his pride.

“It’s true.” His stomach roiled in revulsion as he grovelled to her. “I’m sore about holding over, and I wanted to take it out on someone, and you looked like easy pickings. I’m brash, I’m rude, I hate everyone including myself, and I make it everyone else’s problem.”

She paused her sniffling, as if sizing him up.

“Well.” She said thickly. “Thank you for admitting it. That was very… self reflective.”

“I go to a shrink, I kind of have to be self reflective.”

“Ah.” She sniffled. “You can leave me alone now.”

“I would,” Oddly, it felt good to tell somebody… Good enough that he was able to go back to being sly. “But this closet doesn’t open from the inside. Every time we get a new janitor they get locked in here. Happens like twice a year.” She said nothing, but Angus heard her breathing pick up in pace. “I mean, I can always leave you in here.”

“No!” She said urgently. “Let me out, please.”

“I will, if you promise not to fink.”

“I-I won’t fink. If you leave me be, I won’t fink. Pinky promise.”

“Alright. I’ll stay as far away from you as humanly possible.” He clambered to his feet and opened the door for her. She was already standing, and as soon as she saw the light, she tried to scoot out beside him, but he moved his arm to stop her. “Pinky promise, remember?”

Begrudgingly, she curled her finger around his, then slipped out past him and returned to her room. Angus watched her go, and something broke inside his chest as the door closed behind her.

#dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers #angus tully #angus tully x reader

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

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Spidersonas are the perfect exercise and I recommend everyone try -

Quick-Spidersona Exercises

How I use new Spidersonas as Artistic Practice

[A MEDIUM length post where I share ideas and exercises to create Spidersonas quicker and easier, while practicing your writing/art]

Spidersonas can be a great tool for any artist!

If you're a writer looking for a way to get better at character creation, research, and world-building - Or an artist looking for a way to get better at character design:

Consider trying out Quick Spidersona exercises as a fun way to do that! I use them all the time, because seriously, who says you can only have ONE Spidersona?

(I think I have at least 15-20 now - counting the eight named kids I gave Miguel & Moche)

I usual end up making at least one a week - and I find they're amazing for learning how to make characters quickly and in a really fun way.

Everything can be canon in the Spider-verse, including a sentient piece of Lego-Plastic and a Pre-historic Spider-saur.

Plus, with the Spider-Society being full formed, and canon events at your choosing, you have a loose template for a background - making it easier to throw them into the story.

I use a couple different exercises on making Fast-Sonas, and I thought I'd share some.

Here's a couple of my favorites! If you find this helpful, let me know!

1 - Hour Sona Challenge

Ever have a half-baked Spidersona Idea or come up with a funny crack Spider?

Give yourself an hour (or two) and go at it.

[This challenge is good for quick practice, Character Creation & Design]

Design them a suit as quick as you can, coming up with abilities and a rough personality.

You don't need to go into backstory if you don't feel like it, and it's a great way to get started

This is something you can do routinely - I do, I usually do this once or twice a week; And soon you'll have a full cast of sonas that can interact with each other!

It's great practice, and the more you do it, the easier it gets.

When you're doing it on the fly, or know it's just one hour - it can produce characters that are more natural, because you don't have time to second guess. Plus, since it's only an hour, you can get as silly as you want!

Stoner-Spider is an example of a 2-hour Sona Challenge.

Adapt-A-Spider

This challenge is good for Character Design

Make your own cross over!

For something a bit easier - Take a Non-Spider character and make them a Spider-person.

This could be anyone, from other Marvel characters, to Disney Princesses, Celebrities, and characters from your other fandoms. You can even make some of your old OCs into Spider-people!

For Artists - this can be a real fun challenge - try and blend the characters original outfit and design into a suit suitable for swinging.

For Writers - try to adapt their current background, and shift it around so they have 'canon events'. If the character you like has lost someone, the person they lost could stand in for their Uncle Ben or Aunt May.

Example: If you're looking to adapt Ellie from The Last of Us, losing Joel could be her Uncle Ben canon event.

This works for every character (basically). What if Black Widow ACTUALLY got bit by a black widow? Now Nat Romanoff is on campus. (Every Peter thinks she's an MJ cause the red hair at first).

No matter how ridiculous, you can stretch it. In Spiderverse, everyone is Canon.

If they can write a SpiderCar - you can write ANYTHING.

Some ideas are:

Celebrities, Animals (like SpiderCat or the Dinosaur), Princesses, Greek Gods, Historical Figures, Fandom Characters,

Mundane Spider

This challenge is good for: Character Building & Design

Not everyone is extraordinary. SOMEONE has to flip those McMiguel burgers goddamn it.

If making a huge story and traumatic canon events send daunting - just... Don't do it. Challenge yourself to make a Spidersona that's literally just a person.

Like a Target employee who got bit by a spider that came out a shipment. And now they have to work at the Society AND target. They wear the Target polo over their suit.

Pick a normal type of person, and challenge yourself to make them super.

Maybe a stay at home mom that got bit by a house spider, or a college student that got bit at the library. Any one could be a Spider-person! So don't worry that they're 'boring'.

Ideas for this:

A person based on your town/city, Random Professions, Teachers, Therapists, People based on hobbies you like to do (ex: Margo is eSports. SpiderCanada is hockey based),

History Spider

[This is good for Research]

History Buffs WHERE U AT?????

If you love a period of history - GO ALL IN.

Take the SpiderNoir and Hobie route.

If your Spidersona was from Ancient Egypt, what would they wear? If you really like the Medieval Era, would their city want to burn them at the stake?

For Artists - What would they wear? And how would the fashion trends of their time period effect their suits?

For Writers - What would be their real name, if it were time period accurate? How would they act and speak? Consider how they would adjust to things like 2099, and how their time period would effect their fighting style.

Culture Spider

If you're from a interesting culture or place, make a Sona for that!

[This is another great one for Research, as well as Character Design too]

I've seen it all, from my own IncaSpider, to Korean Spider-people and Romanian Spider-people.

For Artists - It's REALLY fun adapting traditional dress and colors into a Spider-suit, and you may even find yourself falling down a research hole.

For Writers - This can go DEEP. You can pick any time period of your culture and home. Things like their accent, their behaviors and traditions, and their backstory can all be reflections of your culture.

With HUNDREDS of years is material to pull from, using Culture as a back drop for a Spider can help them seem deep and natural. Plus, you can just Google clothing and use that as suit inspo

Ben Reilly - Mary Sue Spider

Arguably my FAVORITE. Not for the faint of heart.

[This is the best for everything - Literal SELF CARE I MEAN THAT]

BE CRINGE. DO IT ON PURPOSE.

Write a character that's super strong and effortless about it. Pavi is. And he's still a great character.

Write a character who ALWAYS looks kick ass and rides a cool motorcycle or plays a rad guitar - Jess and Hobie are literally THAT.

Want your character to be big and super smart with deep trauma that haunts them? - Ben Reilly and Miguel. The three of them can be a trio.

Challenge yourself to make the COOLEST MOST FLAWLESS DRAMATIC SONA YOU CAN.

Every time you draw something or write something that makes you cringe, or feels to OP or too much.

Good. Leave it in. Turn it up to 11.

Go all out. Draw your Instagram dream outfit. If you want your Sona in 12 inch heels - have at it!

'Oh but that's impractical and stup-'

They're literally a Super-Human. If Gwen can catch a helicopter like that, I think a Spidersona can manage stripper heels or Final Fantasy Hair.

What's the worst that can happen? You're doing it on purpose.

At the best, you'll make someone REALLY REALLY rad - like Hobie.

At the least, you'll make someone REALLY REALLY funny - like Ben Reilly.

Disco-Spider Diane is an example of this. She was probably supposed to be a completely self-indulgent, unhinged Sona.

So much so that she thinks she's perfect, even though she's a little bit naive, lazy, and in her own world. But because she doesn't care.. it's all good :)

No Logic Whatsoever Spider

[This one is just funny. Great one for Character Design and getting out of your comfort zone.]

Spider-Ham, Spider-Car, Spider Cat, LegoSpider, Spiderplush and SpiderPopsicle all have a club. The No Logic Whatsoever Club.

Challenge yourself to make a new member.

Break all the laws of logic. If something can be Spiderman, then it is or duty to make it so.

What's your favorite animal? Make that.

Can they put on the suit themselves? No? Who cares they're a Spiderperson-thing now.

Is there a funny art style you like - make a Bendy's style 1930's black and white silent cartoon.

For Artists - This is a great one. It can be as simple as drawing Spider-man merch and making it sentient. Or as bizarre as drawing a Dinosaur in a Spider-man costume.

For Writers - HARD MODE. For pure crack fanatics. Enjoy trying to make logic of this. Or don't. They are what they are.

----------------------------

So here are just some exercises and ideas for those looking to strengthen their writing/art skills with Spidersonas.

They can be really quick to make, and you can always build on them over time, do a '1hr Sona Update' Challenge, run them through canon events and see them change.

Having multiple spidersonas can be fun, make writing easier, and it's great practice that translates everywhere - into world building, character design, research, and a lot of other creative skills.

Literally theres no need for just one! The Spiderverse is open to any Sona, no matter how bizarre, mundane, or self-indulgent!!

If this gave you and ideas or inspiration, let me know. If you try a challenge, I'd love to see too!

And as per usual if you've read this far: Here take this as a token of my gratitude

Go forth, create, and kill cringe with your bare hands. Smash it into a moving train. That usually does the trick.

Bye.

#got a couple asks about writing advice lately so I wanted to start here first hi hello :)#nooo proofread lol #spiderman #spider man #atsv #across the spiderverse #spidersonas #spidersona #ocs #spiderman oc #writing practice #marvel #across the spider verse #spider society #spiderman atsv

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kookslastbutton · 10 months

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Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. IV

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,174

Warnings: 8-year age gap, professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jungkook snaps, lots of family drama, mommy issues, oc being accommodating, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues but trying to be good hubby, jk gives oc more hope!

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: this week's flashback hint–nothing like a little dilf rivalry! Also, this chapter gives more of a reason why jk is adverse to parenthood 😶 My closing notes offer some explanations. Let's go! 💞

<< ch. III ༓ ch. V >> | series masterlist

For the first 22 years of your life, you had zero partners.

Most people labeled you as being jaded, stuck up, or having too high of standards for it. But fuck it. Why couldn’t anyone accept that you weren’t about to settle down with the first interested guy just 'cause of peer pressure?

Of course, you'd likely end up with someone eventually. You have gone out on a couple of dates before. Yet they were never that promising. The men, or excuse you, boys roughly your age did nothing to woo you. They just wanted a late-night fuck at 1 a.m. or a nice, cute girl to take home to their mom.

Not that you gave a hell what others were into or anything, but you had other agendas. Getting married and birthing children before kick-starting your adult life was not in your playbook. Neither was jumping into bed with random guys every week.

So you haven't had much luck in the romance department. Good riddance to it!

What you were waiting for was a gentleman. Someone that was responsible, mature, and experienced. Bonus points if they were into the arts. But it was rare to find a suitor of such quality–who wasn't ridiculously off-limits that is. Obviously, some other strong-willed man or woman sunk their claws in before you got the chance. Drats.

4 years ago

“I can’t believe you,” your best friend giggles. “You’re going to that fancy new art exhibit downtown just to run into Dr. Kim! You’re so shameless __.”

You roll your eyes and stick your plate in the dishwasher. You’re best friend Na-Rae has been one of your closest friends since your second year of undergrad. Now into your third year of friendship, you consider her as close as a sister.

Unlike you, Na-Rae is utterly fascinated with all things STEM-related. She’s currently in med school aiming to become a surgeon, which is one of the many reasons why you and her are currently roommates.

“I’m telling you one more time, I’m not going for him. I actually want to see the paintings which should come as no surprise to you. Dr. Kim just happens to be going too.”

Na-Rae leans against the kitchen island, tongue in cheek. “If that’s what you wanna tell yourself, babe. But how, may I ask, did you know he’d be there? Are you stalking him online now?”

“Of course not. I’m not a creep Na-Rae.” You throw her a dirty look. Honestly, she really thinks you’re some obsessed fangirl. Like yes, Dr. Kim is really hot for an older guy, and the fact that he’s basically the second dean of the art department? He may or may not visit you in your dreams. Especially after studying for Dr. Jeon’s fifteen million econ exams.

Now there’s a guy who definitely knows how to stick it to you.

“Besides,” you continue. “Dr. Kim doesn’t have social media.” You don’t notice how contradictory that statement sounds until your best friend lets out a sinister cackle.

“Looked him up did you?” She hits your arm, wiggling her eyebrows tauntingly. “I knew it! I knew you were stalking him!”

“I–I am not! Stop that!” You ignore her looks, seeing it best to avoid eye contact altogether.

"Iovmererdhimalkingintheallway."

"C'mon, you know I can't understand that. You did what?"

"I over…heardhimalkingintheallway," you repeat, skirting most of the sentence again.

"For the love of might __! Why are you being so–"

"I overheard him talking in the hallway!" Once you blurt the words out you scurry out of the kitchen. "Gotta get my laundry, bye!"

"Uh-__!" Na-Rae races to catch up to you. "Explain to me how that's not being stalkerish!"

You grab your laundry basket and set it next to the dryer. "It wasn't intentional alright? I happened to be passing by at the right moment." You pop the door open, stuffing your clothes in the basket. Na-Rae casually watches you from the doorway.

"Right," she says. "Just happened to overhear Dr. Kim's whereabouts on a Friday night and just happen to be going to the same place. But definitely not planned because the dress you're currently trying to hide from me isn't meant for him to coincidentally see. Oops, my bad."

You release said dress from your hand aggressively. "Dr. Kim is at least a decade older than me and he's a high-level faculty member of the university. I'm not seriously trying to present myself to him in any romantic sense. That would be so inappropriate! And as far as the dress goes, it's the grand opening tonight. Everyone's wearing these kinds of things. So no, you're wrong."

"Very well, if the lady persists," Na-Rae shrugs, checking her phone. "Shoot, I gotta get to work in fifteen but I expect a full report later!" You watch as she hustles to her room.

The exhibit's doors open at 7 pm sharp. The line to the entrance runs about three blocks which is far longer than you were expecting. Most people came in groups or pairs, making you wish Na-Rae didn't have to work tonight.

But you're right about this being a formal affair. Everyone is dressed to kill. Some lean more towards black tie while others choose to show off their highly expressive, avant-garde nature.

You look down at yourself, suddenly feeling quite underdressed. You're wearing a simple black dress that's cinched at the waist. If one were to look close enough they'd see hints of gold throughout but no one would get that close.

The artwork itself is stunning. Varying from abstraction to impressionism, you get a sense of pleasure in taking in others’ inspiration. Many of these works are from locals in the area which is one of the main reasons for the number of interested guests. You wonder if anyone here knows the artists directly.

You make your way to the next set of pieces, studying the first in line. You immediately recognize the particular style as post-impressionism. It's clear the artist has great influence by Van Gogh evident from the similar large yet controlled strokes.

As you continue observing the work you feel a second body, looming close beside you. Naturally, you shift your eyes over to see the source. His hair brushes past his face as he leans closer to the painting.

After about three seconds you quickly dart your eyes away, careful not to stare. The man appears to be equally as focused on the work in front of him, as you were. It'd be a bit embarrassing if he noticed your gaze and snapped at you for it.

The man next to you slowly straightens his bent-over posture. He moves to the other side of you, viewing the next painting on your right. You barely catch the slight glance he gives you in the process, now able to see his full face.

It's not Dr. Kim–it's Dr. Jeon.

This isn't weird, you try convincing yourself. It's perfectly normal for you to see your professor in public. Besides, who knows if he actually recognized you yet. No need to make this awkward if you simply pretend not to notice him.

You think about whether to sneakily slip away or continue to feign ignorance until…

"Are we going to keep side-eyeing each other or can I say hi?" Dr. Jeon lightly smiles at you with playful eyes. His glasses are different today–thinner design. And oh, is that a...lip ring? Is that new or has he always had it? You don't remember seeing it before. "If you keep staring at my lips like that I might get shy."

"Ahha, Dr. Jeon!" You fight the stirring of your nerves. "Hi! Sorry, I didn't mean to stare or anything. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Please, __. Outside of class, Jungkook is fine. Though I understand if that's a little out of place for you."

A little?! You've been calling Dr. Jeon, well, Dr. Jeon for the past two weeks. It's unlikely that will change. "If it's alright with you," you start, hands restless. "I'd like to stick with the usual."

Jungkook nods, giving you a brief once-over before replying. "Sure, no problem. I'm hoping you'll warm up to the idea though. Dr. Jeon makes me feel old." He lets out a throaty chuckle. "I'd ask what brings you to this art exhibit but I think I have the answer, given the amount of sketches I see you doing while I'm lecturing."

Oh god. Your professor calling you out for both gawking at his lips and doodling in class under the span of five minutes? You've never wanted to disappear more. The sketches you do aren't meant to look like a distraction and honestly, you didn't mean to gawk at the tiny ring, it was just there!

"Sorry," he continues. "That wasn't intended to be passive-aggressive. I really don't mind as long as they don't hinder your learning. Dr. Kim does the same thing whenever I'm talking to him too. I've summed it up to an itch all you artists have. I've come here in support of him actually." He gestures to the collection of paintings next to you; the post-impressionism ones you were intent on studying earlier.

"Oh wow," you gasp stupidly, following his gesture. You didn't even clue in to read the artist's name.

Stigma by Kim Taehyung.

"I had no idea Dr. Kim had some of his work displayed here. I feel so foolish. I was viewing his pieces for I don't know how long just a few minutes ago."

You were sure Dr. Kim was attending the exhibit for the same reasons as you. But while it was partially right, you obviously missed the biggest point.

"Don't fret," a deep, honey-coated voice comes from nowhere. "Any admirer of my work is a friend of mine." He strolls up to your left, Jungkook still on your right. "I don't believe we've met yet. Dr. Kim Taehyung." He tosses a hand out for you to shake.

Oh no, no no no. You hope to death you won't start sweating. You've never been this close to Kim Taehyung before and he wants you to hold his hand! "Pleasure to meet you Dr. Kim. I'm __," you say, struggling not to burst inside.

Okay, so it's not exactly holding hands but it's close enough. His fingers are so long and elegant. You can't wipe the grin off your face.

You're squeezing it now, stop stop stop. You mentally slap yourself and retract your hand as naturally as you can. Thank fuck no one can read your mind.

"I'm sorry your name is __?" Dr. Kim freezes as if suddenly needing to remember something. When you think he's recalled whatever it is he needs, he flicks his head over to Jungkook with a twinkle in his eye. "__," he repeats aloud.

"Uhm, yes..." You're definitely missing something. You look between the two men, apparently both intent on keeping you in omnious silence. What's so facinating about your name?

Taehyung whips his head back to face you, flashing a blinding grin. "You're the little artist in Jungkook's class aren't you?"

That's what this is about? He looks far too proud of himself for connecting those dots.

"Yeah I take ECON 602 with Dr. Jeon." You make the mistake of looking at Jungkook mid-sentence. For some odd reason, his previous mirthful expression has changed to one of bitter distaste.

"She isn't little," Jungkook intrudes, nearly snapping at the older man. "Little is what you call a child and it's inappropriate for you to call her that."

What the hell....? How is Dr. Kim calling you little bothering your professor more than you?

"My apologies," Taehyung says. "But she's your student, right? The one drawing during your lectures? I think she drew you once. Exquisite may I add. You captured his pissed-off look so well." He gives you a pleased look but you're too sheepish to form a reply.

"Yes, I wasn't having the best day. Can I talk to you a moment Dr. Kim? We'll be right back __, just a second." Jungkook grabs the older's arm, yanking him out of your earshot.

"What the hell are you doing, Taehyung?" Jungkook spits. "You're making my student uncomfortable."

"Aha, so she is the artist. Look I admit that using the term little was a misstep but I think she's alright. I apologized didn't I?"

"Yeah sure, but she's not alright." He makes air quotes. "Since you've also made it seem like anything she does in my class, I spill to you! Don't you see how uneasy that would make someone feel? Especially me being her professor. She could be thinking I tell you weird things too! See what you've done?!"

"But Jungkook," Taehyung drawls, face scrunching. He's not sure what's gotten Jungkook so worked up. "You do in fact regurgitate everything to me. You've been talking about her for the last week just to one-up me that she's an artist. Now I get to have a face to the name. I'm kinda tickled about it but also, what weird things are you referring to?" Taehyung pauses, eyes going as big as a saucer. "Oh my god, bro. Are you–"

Jungkook grunts firmly, shutting the man up at once. "Absolutely not Tae. Whatever you were about to say, it couldn't be a bigger no. All I'm asking is for you to keep the private things private. I don't want you blubbering everything to her."

"Very well," Taehyung hums, stealing a glance at you behind Jungkook's shoulder. From where he stood, he had an easy view of you moving down the line of paintings. You stop in front of each one, curiously examining them the best you can. "However, she's quite intriguing. I can't make any promises that I'll hold myself back."

"You better be talking about her mutual interest in art. She's my student and we have an obligation through the university not to fraternize with any–"

"Yes yes, your student. I don't need a reminder of where my boundaries are, but perhaps you do....bringing up fraternizing and all." Taehyung moves past Jungkook, striding back over to you. "Whatever else can there be besides professional or academic affairs? Of course, we're keeping our witts about us Kookie."

Behind him, Jungkook huffs and follows his lead. Then wipe that stupid smirk off your face, he thinks.

Present

Dinner is rough.

Jungkook's parents showing up unannounced and uninvited throws you both in a very quick, downward spiral. How can two people have so much time on their hands? Retirement, that's how.

You try your hardest to keep the conversation light throughout dinner, but it's obvious the air has grown thick between your husband and his mother.

"Why didn't you come to the reunion last year?" your mother-in-law presses for the second time tonight. She clutches the napkin in her hand, anxious for his response.

Jungkook sits across the table. His posture stiffens at the question. "I'm sorry, I had a lot to do. The reunion is always so close to when I have to go back to the university that I just didn't have the time."

A loud, impatient sigh comes from back across the table. "You didn't have the time or didn't make it? Honesty Jungkook, you expect me to believe that?"

When Jungkook doesn't answer, you and your father-in-law exchange troublesome looks. "Honey," Mr. Jeon speaks up, placing a hand on her shaky one. "You know how full the school year is for Jungkook. Don't blame him. Maybe he can come this year if we reschedule for a more convenient time." He pleads with his son, hopeful eyes.

"Stop helping him." She looks at Mr. Jeon and then back to Jungkook. "I don't think I'm asking for a lot. I just want you there, you and __."

At that, you find yourself gripping your husband's arm from under the table. Jungkook shifts in his seat and stares dead straight into his mother's eyes. "Funny you say that," he seethes. You tug on his arm in desperation to calm him. "Seeing that you keep dropping by at random times throughout the year, I'd say you expect a great deal from us."

Mrs. Jeon immediately snatches her hand from your father-in-law's. "Maybe I wouldn't have to if you'd come to the reunion. Or called, texted, or even emailed at this point. If it weren't for my efforts, I wouldn't hear from you at all."

"Please," Mr. Jeon pleads again, this time to both parties. "We're having dinner. Let's continue this later." He reaches for the bowl in the middle of the table but he's quickly ignored.

"You're right." Jungkook cuts. "Maybe I should come. Because it's one more way you can get what you want, isn't it? All those years of hard work so you can show me off to everyone."

"Don't you talk to me like that," Mrs. Jeon grits. "If I wanted to show you off it'll be when you give me a grandchild! I'm lucky to even have a daughter-in-law by now."

Chair legs scrape against the hardwood floor and your arm snakes out from Jungkook's arm. Your husband stands at the table, Mr. Jeon follows suit. "Okay, okay, let's just–"

"Dad," Jungkook interrupts. "Can you please take Mom home for the night?"

"Are you okay?" you pop the question once your in-laws leave for the night, a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Mrs. Jeon looked completely bewildered, whereas Mr. Jeon looked deeply troubled; conflicted between wife and son. You have a feeling he has a better understanding of what happened than you do right now.

"I wish she hadn't come today," Jungkook plops on the bed. You sit beside him. "I'm sorry about what she said about you....I knew she was here for something."

You won't lie. When Mrs. Jeon mentioned being lucky to finally have a daughter-in-law, it stung. You detest being seen as an achievement. "I'm sure she didn't mean it like that since she said it out of impulse. It was a tense moment," you say. "As far as what she was getting at though, it was for you to go to the reunion."

"No." He shakes his head and then glances at you. "It's not about the reunion. She only wants me to go so she can show everyone how smart and successful her son has become–all her doing of course. It's been like that since high school. And she wants you to go for a similar reason."

"I knew your mom had a bit of a thing for status but I thought that mostly revolved around her profession. Also, when she was talking earlier about you not keeping in touch she seemed more hurt and sad than mad. I think she really just wants you there."

"If she seemed hurt it's because she didn't get her way," Jungkook says, nonchalant.

"Jungkook."

"I'm sorry but it's true" He adjusts his position, angling himself to face you. "Mom's used to calling the shots– at work, at home, even with our neighbors growing up. You've seen how dad is around her. Yeah, he pushes back a little but at the end of the day, he does what's asked of him."

Frightened to ask the next question, you swallow hard. "What aren't you telling me Jungkook?"

He gently takes your hand from your lap, rubbing small circles on the knuckles. "Growing up, she was hardly around or involved in my brother and I's life. Most weeks, she and Dad would be at work, and we'd be with a babysitter or nanny. Dad did what he could to take care of us but Mom? All she would do is prune us to be just like her...smart, successful, and a dash more to make up for all the achievements she couldn't make."

"Jungkook...I don't know what to say," you murmur, trying to take everything in. "But your PhD–"

"My decision but her influence. Though she wasn't pleased when I said I'd be relocating ten hours away."

You remember him telling you this part before. His mother had a hard time coping with his reluctance to stay nearby. Maybe she did want him to follow in her footsteps. "Your brother didn't have as much pressure on him did he?"

"He did, but he still bends to her will. Except for the grandchildren part." Jungkook grimaces, averting eye contact. "I guess we have that in common."

"Hey," you urge him to lift his head. "Please don't feel bad about telling me any of this. If your picture of parents has largely been their absence and desire for self-fulfillment, then I understand your grounds for not wanting children. And as far as tonight with your mom, I'm so sorry. I feel like it's partially my fault for agreeing to host them for two days."

A pair of soft eyes rest on you in the dim room. The sun was near set now and all the light previously shining into the room had come from the window. If this wasn't a serious moment you might take a candid shot of your husband.

"You're the best thing that's happened to me __," Jungkook coos. "Don't ever think your kindness is a fault." He pauses then continues. "I still want both my parents in my life but I need to draw boundaries or I will completely snap and that's not something I want to happen. Especially since we have a possible baby to make one day."

"Hu–huh?" It's the repetition of the last sentence that makes you utterly dumbfounded.

Baby? Baby with Jungkook. One day?

Your husband draws his hand up to barely caress your cheek. "Why does that always seem to stop your heart?"

You catch his wrist mid-movement and throw yourself into him. Your arms link around his neck, chest flat against his. "It doesn't stop my heart," you say, playing with his hair. "It makes it beat faster."

"Wow." Your husband hugs you closer. "So cheesy." He leans back after, pressing a soft kiss to yours.

The two of you continue making out like teenagers again; Jungkook tumbling on his back.

"Kook." You lay on top of him, straddling his sides. "Have you ever thought about seriously talking to your mom about you know, everything you told me?"

Jungkook hums, before answering. "Somewhat but, I'm not sure how that'll go."

"It might be worth it instead of having little pieces slip out when you get into conflict...like tonight for instance."

"I suppose it's not a far-fetched idea. I'll consider it but it might take some more time. For now, I think I'll start by calling her tomorrow. I'm still mad but I don't wanna leave things the way they are now. Plus, I'm sure they don't have plans to go back home early. I'd hate for them to stay in the hotel the rest of these two days."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, snuggling into the crook of his neck.

"Mom." Jungkook holds the phone to his ear. "What are you and Dad doing today?"

"Oh, I–," his mom stutters from the other end. "We're not up to too much. I think your dad wants to swing by some bookstore around town. Uh, what about you?"

"__ at work and I'm home by myself. Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go out for brunch."

Jungkook hears his mom's tone lift. "Are you sure? I mean that would be lovely but if there are things you need to do then we don't want to...impose."

Mrs. Jeon's sudden willingness to check in is unexpected. Jungkook still senses traces of guilt but at least she's making somewhat of an effort.

"It's my treat," he assures, a little shaky. "I'm sorry about yesterday, mom. Maybe we can talk about it more in person."

"I think that would be good," she agrees simply. "Where and what time do you want to meet up?"

"Drive over here in twenty minutes. We can pile in my car and head over."

Once finally agreed, Jungkook ends the call. He opens his messages and shoots you a text.

Jungkook: Well I did it 😬 [sent at 10:42 a.m]

__: Proud of you ❤️ if anything happens, call me. [sent at 10:44 a.m]

Jungkook: I will. Also, sorry to bring it up but I gotta give Yoongi hyung an answer by tomorrow. Are we babysitting his twins Saturday? [sent at 10:47 a.m]

__: Ahm, it'll likely be the evening, right? [sent at 10:48 a.m]

Jungkook: Probably [sent at 10:49 a.m]

__: I guess, sure. We're going to need to put some stuff away though 😅 And get something fun for them to do! [sent by 10:51 a.m]

Jungkook: Noted but I'm sure they'll bring lots to do. Yoongi hyung is a big sofie for his girls. He buys them everything–literally 🫠 [sent at 10:52 a.m]

__: True. I have to get back to work now but love you xoxo [sent at 10:53 a.m]

A/N: Surprise! jk has mommy issues and they've has been triggered. Was hoping how he talked, thought, & acted towards her in the last chapter gave hints. On the brighter side, jungkook is another step closer to babyville! And next flashback will be something exciting! Lmk if you wanna be tagged or have thoughts in comments or asks! 💞

Masterlist

Taglist:

@frieschan @oldermenluverrr @tatamicc @kookswifesblog @llallaaa @sunnybyeol @namtaeh @exactlygreatcoffee @whipwhoops @yoongisducky @ktnj91 @junecat18 @thvlover7 @yoongiworshiper @ellesalazar @monbebe234-blog @parkinglot-nights @borahaexoxo @hobiswhore @kimseokjinbangtan @jjk97091 @mk-id @blueberry711 @givemethemaknaes16 @iammartian07 @jjkluver7 @itsdingdong @jiminshi20 @sweet-sourhotcoco @lovingkoalaface @starsinsky1999 @rockstarrgyu @chaconnelatte @lubtou

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts smut #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts au #fic:toolatetodream #kookslastbutton

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 6 months

Text

Trunk or Treat with The Yandere Student Council Pt. I

Based Off the OCs in this Post

“Alright everyone let’s start talking about ideas!”

“Uhm do you mean ideas for what to do with Halloween coming?”

“Oh no darling, we always do a Trunk or Treat kind of thing.”

“We are talking about our costumes.”

As bizarre as it sounds the college’s students look forward to the costumes of the student council

Allowed to enjoy whatever festivity that comes with their choice

For reference they share that last year they had a ‘kiss–in–the–coffin’ booth for their shared vampire costumes

“J-j-just so you know the kisses were on the cheek only!”

“I didn’t ask but okay.”

It set the precedent for this year to be just amazing if not better

“Since we have you now (Y/n) we should have something special that welcomes you in!”

“I-i-i-i think that’s a great idea.”

“I’m all for it too!”

Despite your protests, in fear of being singled out by their fans your haters they forge on

“They won’t be bothering you. Not on my watch.”

“You say that but–”

“Seriously (Y/n) believe us! We’ll make sure there won’t be any problems.”

“And if there are we will kill them.”

“What?!”

“Joking. Joking.”

They’re not

Anyway it was decided on that the council will be Ghostly Royalty

Which makes costumes really easy or so you thought

According to Min, quite a large part of the budget went into your costumes

“Pick your jaw up (Y/n)! This is the best part! You don’t think we get this big of a budget without showing off, do you?”

“Still…it feels a bit overkill…especially when I don’t have a fan base at all.”

“Ohhh that’s what you think–ow!”

“Roman, always such an optimistic chatterbox. Always saying things that are not true.”

Lucoa takes the role of the king naturally

Spencer is forcefully given the role of the queen

Min takes the role of the dungeon master, despite his meek character

Roman takes the role of an advisor

Gil as a duke

June as a duchess

“Wait so what am I?”

“Our dragon.”

“What?!”

“We wanted to put a spin on the old system!”

“But that isn’t really accurate…nor does it really fit the ghost royalty theme.”

“.....”

“....”

“So? We’re doing fantasy ghosts then.”

In your opinion, it's just an excuse to make your costume as ridiculous as they please

“This is an early draft of your costume.”

“What!? Wait where are the actual clothes? I’m just seeing gold necklaces and bangles.”

“...That was the idea.”

“I’m not wearing that if there aren’t actual clothes underneath there.”

“...But it will ruin the integrity of the design and disrupt the choreography and–”

“Then hide it under the gold! I’m not going to be half-naked for the entire school.”

“...I will consult the President.”

You owed him a favor after that

Saying you agreed to this as an honorary member

But when you’re not having to fight Gill on your costume designs

You are helping the others

“June…this is just a dress.”

“Right, it’s a perfect occasion to wear it. And don’t my hips feel and look great.”

Adjusting the golden belt meant to hang off his waist you try to ignore how his poses requires that he touch you in some way shape or form

“Well yeah but don’t you feel like your fans would want you in something else?”

“Oh baby! You don’t have to worry, they love this sort of thing.”

And helping with their research

“Roman I know you never seem to run out of ideas to hang out but why a medieval diner?”

“It's for research! By the way, how do you like the food? I made sure the critiques were as positive as they could get.”

“Roman.”

“Yes?”

“Why did that waitress, compliment our relationship?”

“OMG they brought another plate of bread and for free? So cool.”

“Roman!”

Or helping organize their booths

“So Spencer what are you going for?”

“A kind of dunk tank except it drops on me.”

“Oh okay….this says that you’re not actually using water but…oil?”

“Yeah Lucoa suggested I show off my scars and muscles.”

“Wait you have those?”

“Hahaha very funny but seriously give me your opinion.”

“Oh wow….yeah, I think they’ll like it…no they’ll love it.”

“Oh really? Well, thanks!”

As if he didn’t already know

But eventually as the date comes closer it comes time to focus on your booth

But it seems that as an honorary member you don’t get to have much control over your own booth

Or any decision involving your event

“Hey Min what are you building over there?”

“Oh this is the art for your exhibit. Lucoa put me in charge of matching the gold from your costume to the setting around there.”

“Aw thanks can I help?”

“N-n-no!”

“Oh.”

“S-s-s-sorry the President gave us explicit instructions not to include you in the making of it. I’m r-r-r-r-really so sorry!”

“It’s fine Min, don’t worry about it.”

It’s just so apparent how little you would be included in your own activity no one really bothered to hide that fact from you

“Hey Gill this meeting on your calendar, I don’t remember getting your usual reminder for it.”

“That is because you are not invited to it.”

“Don’t be sad (Y/n)~Afterwards we can just come visit you after.”

“No no that’s okay I’ll just take the day off then. Catch up on homework.”

“Aw~ Don’t be like that we’ll come over to your house after.”

“No I’m not sad. I’m going to be happily doing my homework alone!”

“Putting that on our private calendar: Going to (Y/n)’s house an hour after the meeting.”

At the end of the day you’re just as surprised when the event begins and they shove you in the room under the stage with nothing but a warning not to move from the chair you’re in:

Part 2

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wordbreaker · 3 months

Text

The Taming of the Dragon, 1 ✷ Aemond Targaryen

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen / F!OC

SUMMARY: One evening, Aemong, in dire need of clearing his head, catches a Dragonkeeper on the beach tending to Vhagar. The Queen of Dragons doesn't seem bothered by the stranger's presence. Quite the opposite. Aemond is immediately intrigued. Even more so when he discovers that the stranger is a girl who comes from the North and bears the name Snow.

-ˋˏ following chapter ✶ ao3 ✶ my inbox ˎˊ-

Aemond Targaryen was on the verge of going mad. Everyone around him, from his mother to his grandfather and even his failing father, had only one word on their lips: Rhaenyra. His half-sister, who lived in Dragonstone, haunted the Red Keep. Her ghost wandered the corridors and manifested itself on their lips. He no longer wanted to hear that cursed name, which brought with it bad omens and curses.

“She'll do anything to usurp the throne! Even if she knows Aegon is the rightful heir!’ Alicent Hightower shouted.

Her brown curls bounced with every step she took. Her incessant to-ing and fro-ing along the Small Council’s table was making his head spin.

His mother had summoned him—as if Aegon wasn't the first son—to this secret meeting where her, his grandfather Otto, Criston Cole and Larys Strong would discuss stratagems, politics, and manipulations: three things he had started to loath. His love for his mother and his sense of duty had kept him from leaving the minute she made that request.

His expression revealed his true opinion of this ridiculous spectacle which he was watching with a distracted eye. He had stopped listening a long time ago and was waiting patiently—as was expected of him—to be dismissed. These discussions had a way of boring him. They went round in circles, nothing more than paraphrases of a previous meeting. A constant déjà-vu fuelled by obsession and a thirst for power.

“Viserys will come round,” her father reassured her.

The Queen laughed, a mundane, almost inelegant, gesture that was incongruous with her status. Rhaenyra had the gift of unearthing his mother’s inner ugliness. She could turn the most important woman in Westeros into the common little girl full of rage she had once been.

“She has his favour. She is the favourite child! He won't change his mind, not even about his first son!”

And what a son! Unsurprisingly, Aegon was nowhere to be seen today. His brother had never taken to politics. He was probably busy fucking some whore in the Silk Alley or some maid in his rooms, happy to let Aemond take over the responsibilities he left vacant.

Although it pained him to admit it, Aegon was the first son and he belonged on the Iron Throne. Aemond would much rather see his brother sit there than his whore of a half-sister. Aegon wasn't evil, just a misguided soul that his mother and grandfather would set straight. He was sure of that. Leaving the kingdom in Rhaenyra's palms, on the other hand, was tantamount to condemning the inhabitants of the Seven Kingdoms. Her reign would only bring calamity.

He tilted his head back and looked up at the ornate ceiling. His fingernails beat against the wooden table as the minutes ticked by. Slowly. Much too slowly. He held back a yawn.

The tone had been raised, words had been shouted, orders, given, and in the midst of all this racket, Aemond felt like screaming. He couldn't care less about Rhaenyra, his uncle, and her brown-haired bastards.

Aemond didn't want to suffer what his birth had spared him—responsibility. The second son was merely the replacement, the forgotten one. He would only appear on stage if Death came too early.

He wanted to be left in peace until then.

A futile desire for someone bearing the Targaryen name. No ancestor of the blood of the Dragon had known peace and he certainly wouldn't be the first.

The sun had been down for at least three hours when Aemond finally escaped from the clutches of his mother and grandfather. He mourned a wasted day and headed for his rooms.

On the way, he came across Aegon, his eyes reddened, and his eyelashes still stuck with sleep. His fist itched. He felt a visceral need to bring it down on his brother’s face. Why wouldn’t he grow up? What would become of Westeros if his grandfather and mother succeeded in making him king? Aegon was an immature fool and Aemond was expected to pick up the pieces. What did he gain by doing so? No recognition, no respect, and certainly not power. He was asked to do it because it was expected of him. An unspoken rule he learned to obey from an early age.

Aemond Targaryen would forever remain the second son, obscured by the shadow of Aegon’s unworthy glory.

“Brother.”

Aegon nodded, but the sly smile on his lips threw off any semblance of politeness. Aemond remained unmoved. He would not play his game, not tonight, although a few insults came to the tip of his tongue. He clenched his jaw.

“I assume the council was as interesting as usual. I'm sorry I couldn't be there but, you understand... A pretty servant was waiting for me. Couldn’t disappoint her, you know?”

Aemond didn't reply. He had not even deigned to leave the castle, not even his rooms. His hands began to shake, and a stabbing pain seized his sapphire eye, as it did every time he was upset. Lazy bastard.

When Aemond was mastering the art of sword fighting, Aegon was swilling whole jugs of wine. When Aegon was thrusting his cock between the thighs of a whore, Aemond was immersing himself in the histories of Old Valyria.

They couldn't have been more different.

Aemond continued towards his chambers, his face tense. Behind him, his brother burst out laughing and tried to talk to him, but he quickened his pace. Tonight, he had no patience for conversation.

Soon, the large wooden doors of his rooms appeared at the end of the corridor. The relief he felt was dulled by a weight in his chest.

At the last moment, Aemond turned around and hurried back. He felt as if he were suffocating within the gigantic walls of the Red Keep. The vast corridors were no longer so. They closed in on him and whispered hissing words. They slipped into his ear and snaked into his mind to unearth his worries. Stories of legitimacy, inheritance, the throne and responsibility—everywhere he went, his duty followed and plagued him.

Aemond needed to see Vhagar. He usually avoided disturbing her in the evening. His dragon was no longer in her prime and slept more than the others. Tonight, he would allow himself to be selfish. The need was too great. He had to clear his head, or he would go mad like many Targaryens before him.

He continued walking until he came to a darkened alcove. Aemond slid his hand over the cold stones. Eyes closed, he savoured the sensation. Click. He pushed open the wall, revealing a long and abandoned corridor.

The secrets of the Red Keep were no longer unknown for him. Aemond had spent his youth wandering up and down the corridors of the building in search of them. The stories said that Maegor the Cruel had beheaded the architects, the masons, the carpenters... all the brains and hands that built this fortress. They took these secrets to their graves, secrets that only the blood of the Dragon could recognise.

After the loss of his eye—thinking of Lucerys Strong made him cringe—Aemond had redoubled his efforts to find them all. These passages had offered him the ideal refuge to escape from the gaze of others during the most difficult period of his life. This tradition had survived.

Aemond didn't even stop in front of Balerion's skull—not when his own dragon, alive on top of it, was waiting for him—and he rushed through the corridors, down some stairs, up others, turned left and then right, down some stairs again until he finally reached a door which he pushed open.

The fresh air whipped across his face. Immediately, all his worries evaporated, although his hands continued to tremble—a vestige of his wrath. He inhaled the smell of the shore, a delicious mixture of salt and air.

Aemond made his way down the stairs and onto the beach. He relished the sensation of walking on the white sand. It crumbled under his leather boots. Aemond found this instability reassuring. Nature could be unstable too. The wind had picked up and was blowing thousands of grains around. These whirlwinds, small storms of matter, calmed him and the proximity of Vhagar finished off the hurricane rising in his heart.

With a slight smile on his lips, he walked over to the dunes where his dragon had taken refuge since he brought her back from Driftmark, eight years ago. A mountain of green scales stood among the other mounds of sand. It moved with every breath. Aemond could almost feel the warmth of her breath, the hardness of her scales, and could already imagine himself riding her, hair blowing in the wind, free in his mind.

His joy was short-lived. The gods did not like to see him happy.

Aemond stopped dead in his tracks. Next to the gigantic figure of Vhagar, a small silhouette stood out. It was fidgeting and tormenting the dragon’s sleep. The short distance between the two made him clench his fists. They were close, far too close. Aemond had forbidden anyone to approach his mount. He had never had to repeat his request before. Who would be foolish enough to approach a sleeping dragon? Those who had risked it were no longer around to tell the tale. They had been burnt to a crisp and their loved ones had had to mourn an unrecognisable pile of ashes.

The stranger must have been unconscious or just mad.

Aemond stomped over to them.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he growled rather than asked.

He knew he was protective of Vhagar. Everyone around him had noticed. He had exchanged her for an eye, and this suffering had only redoubled his murderous impulses: Vhagar was his. Anyone who dared touch her would face his rage.

The latter rose in his chest and accelerated his heartbeat. It coursed through his entire being, leaving no part of his body untouched. His nails dug into the palms of his hands. His muscles quivered, waiting for just one thing—for him to attack.

He stepped forward, ready to confront the stranger, who jumped and turned but did not reply. This silence made him even more furious. Who dared ignore their prince?

Moving a little closer, Aemond recognised the gleaming black armour and scaled helmet of the Dragonkeepers.

A breeze of relief blew over his heart, but it didn't completely calm the agitation that had been building up inside. At least this person knew what they were doing.

Worry and anger gave way to curiosity: what were they doing here? Aemond had never come across a Dragonkeeper outside the pit. They lived there to ensure the well-being of the creatures. Like monks, the pit was their sanctuary, and nothing could keep them from their duties.

Normally, at least.

He couldn't see their face. Vhagar's massive form cast an equally colossal shadow over their body, which was further darkened by the night. It was only when he was close enough to smell the smoke coming from their uniform that he realised it was a girl and, worse still, that he didn't know her.

The last time he had ventured into the dragonpit, he had been only ten years old and had two eyes. Back when he was still Dragonless-Aemond, the place had seemed unreachable yet idyllic—the embodiment of impossible dreams. Eight years ago, he would have easily been able to name the seventy-seven keepers with the time he spent there. He came every day, waiting for the moment when a dragon would accept him as a rider.

The Dragonkeepers’ faces had clouded over with time, reduced to vague memories that the satisfaction of having claimed Vhagar had swept away. Far too large to fit in the pit, his dragon had made her home on the dunes of King's Landing and, in doing so, had made the dragonpit a bygone era of his childhood.

“State your name. Now.”

She dipped into a clumsy curtsy, perhaps the worst he had ever seen. She almost tripped on air and fell face-first into the sand. He winced. This girl was cruelly lacking in grace. No doubt the keeper’s profession had damaged her manners, which already left a lot to be desired.

"Lucella Snow, yer ‘ighness.”

His eye twitched.

A bastard from the North.

The shamelessness made perfect sense now.

These people were nothing but barbarians, made savages by the cold and their proximity with the Wildlings. They prayed to their strange, faceless gods, remnants of a primitive past, and still clung to superstitions dating back thousands of years which bore witness to their backwardness. Too limited for the political intrigues of the South, they retreated into their icy fortresses and only left them to defend themselves.

Northerners were strange and even the Starks, although not the worst of their species, were no exception to the rule.

Add to that the absence of a father to beat her and train her like a lady, which she could have become with a little effort, and you had the bastard in front of him. She was not unpleasant to look at, Aemond decided. Her pale skin, hidden under the ashes smeared on her cheeks, and the few strands of black hair sticking out of her helmet leaped out at him. If she had been born in wedlock, many suitors would have fought for her hand in marriage.

“And what on earth is a Winterfell bastard doing here?”

“I’m sorry, yer ‘ighness, but I’m afraid ‘am just a bastard frum White ‘arbah.”

Her accent struck Aemond's ears and made him wince. Syllables here and there disappeared as the vowels struggled to make themselves heard properly in this gibberish. Her voice was deep, deeper than his mother's or his sister's—the only women of his life—, and dragonfire smoke had taken the evenness out of her tone, leaving it hoarse.

He didn't like the way she avoided his question or her undeniable lack of politeness. She looked at him with jaded eyes as if he were the one who shouldn't be there. He thought he saw a flame dancing in her amber irises. A strange colour for someone from a Northerner. In these lands, eyes were only blue, grey, or black: bland colours for a land saddened by the blizzard.

“Winterfell... White Harbor... Northern towns all look alike.”

“I suppose yeh won't mind if I call you Velaryon, then? Yeh understand... Valyrians… They’re all th’same.”

His indecency irritated her. A mouth like hers belonged in a dilapidated tavern, not in a place like the Red Keep.

Northerners didn't belong here. They weren't like them.

“What is your concern here?” he asked her again.

Why isn’t Vhagar killing you? he thought.

Next to Snow, the Queen of Dragons looked peaceful. His companion was used to the presence of the keeper of the North, Aemond realised. The thought worried him. How long had this stranger been roaming around his dragon without him knowing?

The bastard pointed her gloved fingertips at a sheep carcass, no doubt ready to be charred by Vhagar, judging by the hungry look on her face. Aemond had not seen it until now.

The presence of this woman was upsetting his plans and troubling his senses.

“I’m bringing her food.”

Her 'r's rolled off her tongue.

“I already feed her.”

“Not enough. Obviously,” Snow retorted without hesitation, pointing to Vhagar's visible ribs. “Age tends t’work up their appetite. Ain’t tha’ right, sweetheart?”

She tenderly stroked the dragon’s muzzle, who let herself be petted under Aemond's hallucinated gaze.

His mount, reduced to a common pet.

His nostrils flared. He abruptly grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Vhagar, ignoring the grimace of pain on the Dragonkeeper’s face. Good. Perhaps she would understand that lurking around his dragon was not without consequences.

Vhagar, the Queen of all dragons, ridden by Visenya, had fought and survived Aegon's Conquest. She embodied the glory of House Targaryen and would not be touched by a commoner. A Northern bastard even less so.

Without a glance at her, he climbed the rope ladder and settled into the saddle.

"Sōvēs," he commanded.

Vhagar, lethargic, took her time shaking her wings before flapping them and taking flight. She sent grains of sand and stones flying. Soon, the beach was nothing more than a pale speck drowned in the thick clouds bathing in the twilight’s silver light. The icy air invigorated him, but he couldn't find the comfort he had come for. His thoughts remained stuck on the Dragonkeeper.

When Vhagar lost altitude for a moment, when the two of them broke through the cloud barrier and the beach was visible once again, Aemond saw that she had not moved and that her eyes were riveted on him.

Aemond didn't understand her expression but decided he didn't give a fuck.

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wh0reforcoriolanussnow · 10 months

Text

So Soon || D. Targaryen x oc (Dear Motherhood Series)

GIF by @claramaximoff DIVIDERS by @straywords

summary: Leyla is in denial that she may be blessed with another child again so soon after giving birth to her third child.

Dear Motherhood Series Masterlist

“Can’t you make it any tighter?” Leyla groans as her closest handmaiden, Alyssane, struggles to tighten her dress . “Not if you want to breathe, my Lady” She chuckles before going back to work.

The young hightower lets out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t understand-“ “Perhaps, sister, you have been blessed again” Alicent pipes in, her eyes looking up from the book she was occupied with. Leyla turned her head to her older sister’s direction. She chortled at the suggestion.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sister. I just had a baby” She said in a matter of fact tone, her hand resting on her stomach. She honestly couldn’t imagine having another kid so soon. Only being eighteen and possibly having four kids already? There was no response apart from a simple hum. Leyla looked at herself through the mirror. There could be a possibility but there was no way she was pregnant that soon.

“That bastard should be fed to Caraxes for thieving in our bedchambers!” Daemon fumes as he paces infront of the breakfast table where Leyla sat, a 10 day old Aegon in her arms as Alyssa and Baelon played with their wet nurse.

“He didn’t steal anything of value, Husband. Besides, he’s locked up now-“ “But what if you were there when he came in hm?” Her voice was cut off by his. “W-what if the children were there, especially if Aegon was there sleeping-“ “Which he wasn’t. Daemon, it’s alright. The children are alright. And you know that they are always accompanied.”

Leyla takes ahold of Daemon’s forearm as he looks down at her. “If something ever were to happen to our children and I wasn’t able to help it, I would never forgive myself.” He stares intensely at his wife. “Nothing is going to happen to them” She gives a reassuring smile before looking down at Aegon.

Daemon’s face softens as he looks down at his son in awe. “Breakfast, my Prince, my Lady” A maid curtsies as plates of food were placed in front of the couple. Leyla’s face scrunches in disgust. “Is there a problem?” Daemon questions noticing her twisted face.

She didn’t know what overcame her but the smell of the food was overwhelming her and making her sick in the stomach. “I-God I feel like I’m going to throw up” Leyla abruptly stands up passing Aegon to the wet nurse and leaving the room.

“Children,” Daemon calls out. Both Alyssa and Baelon look at their father, “Come here and eat breakfast while I check on your mother” He simply says before following his wife.

“Leyla?” Daemon knocks on their door to the their bedchambers. Silence greeted the prince before footsteps could be heard. Leyla opens the door with an awkward smile. “Are you alright?” Daemon raises an eyebrow at his wife as she nodded. “Quite. I think I just need water” She brushes past him without saying another word.

Not even a month later, everyone at court were whispering about speculations that Leyla and Daemon were expecting their fourth child. Their theirs child, Aegon, had only been born a mere twenty days ago.

When Leyla walked through the corridors of the Red Keep, whispers stopped as they glance at the young mother. She had no idea that it had spread around, and was the topic of everyone’s conversation. But she could wrap her head around why.

Maybe it was because she just had Aegon not even two weeks ago? Maybe it was simply because they were shocked that she was expecting another child only at the age of eighteen with three children under her wing. People would have never expected Daemon to be father of four children, let alone one

“I think I’m with child again, sister” Leyla holds Alicent’s hands in hers as she sniffled, tears welling in her eyes. “Oh but that is such good news Leyla-“ She stops mid sentence as she notices Leyla’s unhappy face.

“Why aren’t you happy then? You love your children plus-“ “Of course I love my children Alicent!” She snaps, “I love them, truly, with all my heart but I just dread-“ Leyla takes a deep breath calming herself down slightly and takes a seat beside Alicent.

“It’s not the children that I hate, God of course not” She lightly chuckles at herself, “It’s the pregnancies I have to endure for nine unbearable months” Leyla sits there fidgeting with her fingers. Alicent opens her mouth but nothing comes out.

She had no idea her sister felt that way. “Can you imagine swelling up and everyone whispering behind your back? Whispers about how I’m carrying Daemon’s child at this age or how I’m incapable of raising children.” Tears slowly fall down Leyla’s cheeks before Alicent embraces her younger sister in a much needed hug.

“I am so sorry. I never knew you felt that way Leyla” Alicent quietly spoke as she rubbed her sisters’ back in comfort. The younger Hightower pulls back, wipes her tears, and gives a small smile. “Father would be happy wouldn’t he?” She laughs to herself as Alicent frowns.

“Leyla you shouldn’t care about what Father thinks,” Leyla knew that. She really shouldn’t. After all, he was the main root of this all. Forcing her to marriage the Prince only at fifteen and ever pressuring her to bear his children so quickly. But deep down she did want Otto’s approval. “I know.”

tike-skip to the end of Second Choice ~

“Daemon?” Leyla starts, “Hmm?” Daemon hums, busy with peppering your hand with kisses. “I’m pregnant.” He pauses his actions as he stares at his wife in shock. “Say something, please.” Leyla grows anxious.

Next thing she knew, Daemon made his way to her and kissed her. “That is wonderful news, sweet girl. Our family only keeps growing” He says softly as he looks at their children. Leyla says nothing but just smiles.

“Are you not happy?” The Prince looks down at her as he notices her silence. She pulls him down to sit beside her. “Of course I’m happy Daemon-“ “But?” He interrupts.

Tears started forming in her eyes once again. “It is just so soon, Daemon.” She shakes her head, Daemon stays silent and listens. “I’m blessed to be carrying your child, truly, but I just had Aegon, not even a month ago. This is all happening so fast, I’m eighteen and now I’ll be mother to four?” She furrows her eyebrows, her gaze on the fireplace infront of her.

“Being pregnant is nothing but draining, Husband.” Leyla finally looks at Daemon. He doesn’t utter a word but instead, he pulls Leyla in for a hug. “iksā sīr kostōba se nēdenka, nyke gīmigon kostā gaomagon bisa. iksan kesīr tolvie dekuragon hen ñuhoso” He whispers in his mothers’ tongue. Something Leyla had mastered to understand. (you are so strong and brave, i know you can do this. i am here every step of the way)

“I’m so grateful to have you with me as my Husband, and father to our darling children” She cracks a smile. Her gaze once again drifting to her beautiful children.

and the first one shot to the dear motherhood series is done!! let me know if you enjoyed it, i can’t wait to write more of these :) lmk if u wanna be in the taglist for this series

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#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fanfiction #matt smith #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #dearmotherhood #leyla hightower #dearmotherhoodseries #targaryenwhore #otto hightower #alicent hightower #a song of ice and fire #dad!daemon targaryen

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rongzhi · 1 year

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hi, i apologize if this is weird for me to ask, but do you have any resources that could help a foreigner with naming chinese original characters? im a white american who's writing a story that has southern chinese characters, and i want to make sure im properly naming my characters and not giving them nonsensical names. any criticism and advice is appreciated. thank you ♡

hmm with regards to naming Chinese OCs, I think if you are going into it with very little experience with Chinese names, it's best to first take a look at popular names based on year and gender, and then go from there.

Assuming your characters are Han Chinese/have Han Chinese names, check out these articles about naming trends:

What can we tell from the evolution of Han Chinese names?

Most Popular Chinese Names (trends in 2023 and across the decades)

Looking at appropriate names by generation is a good starting point just so you don't end up picking a name that sounds like the Chinese equivalent of naming a zoomer "Agatha" or "Gertrude" or something like that. This is a good method of quickly naming minor characters.

Beyond that, a lot can honestly be explained away by character back story/the intentions of the parents (although note: Chinese people are never named directly after senior relatives, as this is taboo). One thing to consider is that, sure, some people are just named after pretty words or whatever, but there can also be significant qualities/traits that give meaning to a name. So don't be afraid to choose characters that describe invisible/intangible qualities, because if it's just fluff, that can sound ridiculous too (my mom still laughs at all the ugly flower name suggestions my nainai came up with for me and my sibling, for example).

As the articles mention, some names have more feminine or masculine implications than others, but in general, Chinese names are gender neutral. If a girl has a more 'masculine' name, one could easily assume it's because the parents wanted to imbue her with certain traits. This is why it's worthwhile to consider which characters make up the names you choose, even if you never have anyone mention it.

Another thing I'd say is, while not a rule of thumb, I tend to give less important characters in stories monosyllabic names. No need to break out the Ruijie or Bairuo or whatever for a throwaway character.

If your characters are from southern China somewhere, then another thing to consider if how they are nicknamed; southerners more often give people nicknames like Ah-[syllable from given name], so this would be a clearer indicator to the reader as to where they are (similarly, how they address family members may offer these clues as well). For region specific names, you should also look to surnames based on regional prevalence, as certain names are more common in some provinces due to migration patterns as well as sinicization of non Han surnames throughout history.

Chinese Surnames wikipedia

Hundred Family Surnames wikipedia

Tangential but interesting article about the history of Chinese family names

Hopefully that helps a bit or maybe it's just treading over things you already know. If worst comes to worst, just ask someone you trust what they think about the names you've come up with.

#text #answered ask #long post #language ask

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roosterforme · 8 months

Text

The Curveball Part 10 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Molly hates the feeling of each day slipping away, knowing Bob will be leaving soon. But there are cowboy hats to be worn and grandparents to talk to. And when Bob sails off into the Pacific, leaving Molly truly alone, she understands how much of her heart he's taking with him.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swears, pregnancy, smut, 18+

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

"I had all these things planned that I wanted to do," Molly complained. "What am I supposed to do with this cowboy hat while you're deployed, huh? You expect me to just use my fingers or a vibrator for weeks on end? This is bullshit, and you know it, Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob watched Molly pace around the bedroom wearing a sports bra, a pair of his gym shorts, and the mahogany brown cowboy hat she just took out of the Amazon box that was delivered today. Her bump was so adorable, he just wanted to touch it all the time. But right now he was watching her absentmindedly running her hands along her belly as she walked back and forth in front of where he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you buy a cowboy hat in the first place, Mo?" he asked, honestly hoping he'd come home to find his girlfriend asking him for uniform time. Now that she was in her second trimester, she was practically begging for him around the clock. If he was able to get hard, then she was ready to go.

She let out a cute little whine as her fingers grazed her tattoo. "Because you grew up on a ranch, Bobby. In Wyoming. You're a cowboy. My boyfriend is a bona fide cowboy."

"Weapons systems officer, actually," he replied as she came to stand between his spread legs. Bob placed his big hands on her little bump and kissed along her tattoo.

She stomped her bare foot on the floor. "I want a cowboy."

Bob looked up at her pretty, pouting face as he ran his thumb along the bottom of her sports bra. "You really want a cowboy?"

"Yes." Her hands were on her hips now, and he knew he was about to give her what she asked for. He stood to his full height, brushing against her as she looked up at him with needy eyes. Then he gingerly removed the hat from her head.

"Get in bed, Honey."

With a little giggle, she jumped up and down and then crawled into bed. Bob shook his head and went to dig around in the walk-in closet for his oldest pair of jeans. He paused his search for a moment to reach behind his duffle bag and feel for the little box that was holding the ring he picked out. It was perfect, and he let himself hold it in his palm for a few seconds before tucking it away again.

"Bobby?" Molly called, and he rolled his eyes with a laugh. She couldn't even wait two minutes for him.

"I'll be there in a second."

He quickly stripped out of his uniform and underwear and gently pulled his jeans on. Very carefully he zipped them up and then put the cowboy hat on his head. He knew he must look ridiculous like this. He was probably the furthest thing from a rugged cowboy that ever existed. Now, if Molly wanted to fuck a nerd in his thirties who liked to play Dungeons & Dragons and was really good at math, he could probably dial that up to an eleven.

But as soon as he walked back into the bedroom, her eyes went wide, and her lips parted. "Fuck," she whined, and Bob watched her dip her hand inside the waistband of the gym shorts. Her back arched off the bed as she moaned his name over and over, and she kept her eyes glued on him while she touched herself. Maybe he didn't look so bad after all?

He grinned and tipped the hat for her. "Well, howdy little lady."

"Jesus Christ," she gasped. Bob watched her yank down the gym shorts and kick them onto the floor as she said, "Call me little lady again, and I'll probably cum everywhere."

Bob's eyebrows quirked up as she pulled him into bed with her. He pushed her gently back until she was propped up on her elbows. What a sight. Pregnant Molly, running her smooth leg up around his waist and pulling him closer until her pussy was pressed against the denim.

"Your cock looks huge through your jeans," she said, biting her lip. "Now call me little lady again," she demanded. Bob could practically hear the earlier stomp of her foot on the floor as he remained silent.

Instead, he reached for her sports bra and gently pulled it up above her breasts. Those little silver barbells and her perfect tits greeted him. They were already bigger now, and as soon as Bob tipped the hat back on his head and tasted her, she was keening.

Unintelligible noises escaped her lips as she leaned back against the pillows and braced her hands on his shoulders. Bob pulled those little barbells between his lips one at a time, tugging gently, but her breasts were so sensitive now, he felt her nails digging into his skin. He sucked gently and then a little harder on her left nipple until he felt her squeezing her thighs together beneath him.

"Oh, oh fuck," she gasped, back arching slowly as she started panting. When Bob ran his rough thumb back and forth across her right nipple, gently pulling on her piercing, she bucked against him. And then she started shaking, so he replaced his mouth with his fingers, giving her a good pinch as she came for him.

With a satisfied smirk, he pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "I barely even touched you, little lady."

"Bobby!" she shrieked, rubbing herself against him as her orgasm peaked. Next thing he knew, he was the one on his back. Molly's bra was on the pillow next to his head, and his jeans were yanked down to his thighs. And she was the one wearing the hat.

"You look adorable," he said as she adjusted the hat which was way too big for her head. And then she sank down around him, and rode him hard. The teeth of his zipper dug into his leg every time she ground down. The bite of pain mixed with the pleasure that was purely Molly, and Bob was completely lost in the moment. "Sexy cowgirl."

She bent a little closer until her bump was rubbing against his flat abs every time she rolled her hips. "I love riding you cowgirl. I love riding every which way. And I love these jeans. And I love your big cock. And I love our baby. And I love you."

Bob came almost immediately, knocking the cowboy hat off her head and pulling her down to kiss him. "I love you," he murmured, barely releasing her lips as he bucked up into her. "So much." He ran his hands along her belly and her tattoos and her barbells, and then he thought maybe he was being a little too rough. But when he released her, she took his hands in hers and kissed him until she had her fill.

"Will you make me dinner in your snug jeans, Cowboy Bob?"

She didn't actually need to ask him that. She must already know he would.

-----------------------------

Molly was now counting down the meager time left until Bob's deployment started. "Only one hundred and sixteen hours left," she said as she ate a chocolate chip pancake. It was Sunday. He was leaving on Friday morning. "I hate it here."

"I'll be back home before you know it. This is actually a short one. More of a special mission."

"This is a short one?" she asked, looking scandalized. "They can't just... like keep you away from us whenever they feel like it." She gestured to her belly as she licked chocolate from her fork.

"Actually," he said with a sigh, "they sure can."

She started pouting, instantly angry that their son or daughter was going to have to deal with this level of bullshit. She would teach the child to pout just like her, and then Bob would have both of them to contend with. It usually worked for her.

"Mo... I need to go out for a few hours," he said softly, drawing her attention back to him.

"Are you going to Costco? I started a list, and it's my turn to pay for household necessities. But I wanted to watch a new murder documentary later today."

But he was shaking his head. "I need to go to San Bernardino. I need to tell my parents that you're pregnant."

Molly was silent. She hadn't really even considered this. She didn't have parents to tell anything to. If it wasn't something her sister or Bob should know about, then she generally kept it to herself. And now she felt like she was going to vomit, something she hadn't done in weeks.

"Do you really have to tell them?" she asked, setting her fork down.

Bob eyed her skeptically. "I think they should probably be informed that they have another grandchild on the way, Honey."

Tears stung her eyes. "But your mom really liked me," she whispered, rubbing her fingertips along her lips, trying to stay calm. "She was so warm and motherly, and now she's going to know I corrupted her sweet, only son. She'll think I'm a filthy harlot! Only after your mountains of money! You can't tell her I'm pregnant!"

Bob chuckled. "Do we have mountains of money that I'm not aware of?"

"I'm being serious right now, Cowboy Bob!"

"So am I," he said, kissing her lips softly as a tear slid down her cheek. "They aren't going to think anything bad about you. I promise. Rebecca wasn't married to Todd yet when she had Piper."

Molly sniffed and wiped at her nose. "Really? They seem to like him?"

"They do," he said, and he sounded reassuring to Molly's ears.

She took a deep breath. "I'll come with you. To see your parents."

"You don't have to, Mo."

But she reached out and straightened his glasses on his nose. If Rebecca got married later, after she had Piper, then maybe there was hope. And now Molly was thinking about that wildflower wedding. She could practically smell the flowers as she whispered, "I'm going with you."

The ride seemed to take forever, and Bob's truck was mostly quiet. Molly had changed into a snug dress that definitely didn't leave her belly up for debate. They would know she was pregnant as soon as they looked at her. That way there would be less for Bob to have to nervously string together. Molly would take the brunt of the dirty looks, and he could just hold her hand quietly.

"You ready?" he asked in a soft yet strong voice as he parked his truck.

"Yes," she replied. She had no idea this is where she would end up today when she woke up this morning, and she'd rather be almost anywhere else. But she was ready to get this over with.

"Well this is a surprise!" Bob's mom called as she came out onto the porch when she heard the truck door close. She looked delighted. Absolutely delighted to see them. But as Bob wrapped his arm around Molly's waist and started to lead her up to the porch, his mom's eyes dropped down to her midsection, and she gasped.

"Oh no," Molly whispered, swallowing hard against the onslaught of fresh tears.

"Mom," Bob said in a warning tone as Molly tripped along next to him.

"You're pregnant." Her voice was like a gunshot to Molly's ears.

"Yes," Bob replied. Molly had promised herself she would be the strong one here, but now she was collapsing in on herself like a house of cards.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Floyd," she whispered, hand shaking at her side. "It was an accident." But she watched as Bob's mom pulled her son in for a hug as she cried.

"A baby!" she practically shrieked in excitement. "Just wait until I tell your dad! He's going to be overjoyed. Roger!" she screamed into the house as Bob collected Molly against him once more.

"You okay?" he asked, and she nodded against his chest as Bob's dad bounded out onto the porch.

"I was trying to start the grill. What's wrong?"

"Bob and Molly are having a baby!" she screamed at her husband who was only five feet away.

"Another grandchild?" he asked, and Molly was soon sandwiched in a hug between both of Bob's parents as his mom asked a list of questions.

"When are you due? Do you need anything? Should we buy a crib for our house? I wonder if Beck still has Piper's pack n play. Are you hungry? Is Bob cleaning so you don't have to? The chemical smell of cleaning supplies might make you nauseous. Bob, are you cleaning everything?"

And then Molly burst into happy tears as she went inside to eat some grilled chicken and corn on the cob.

----------------------------

When Bob got home from work the day before he was to leave for his deployment, Molly was already there in her scrubs. She presented him with several pairs of gray sweatpants on their bed. "What are these for?" he asked, watching the way she bit her lip in anticipation.

"Try them on," she said, reaching for the first pair. "Without underwear."

He knew better than to argue with her, so he got undressed and pulled on the sweatpants.

"Yes," she said, nodding and stroking her chin with her fingertips. "Absolutely."

Bob looked down his body to where her gaze was transfixed on his crotch. "What are these for?"

"My personal enjoyment. And the enjoyment of others. I can see your dick through the fabric."

"Molly," Bob groaned, reaching for the waistband, but she stopped him with both hands.

"Please? Just wear them while we go pick up dinner! And you can take them on deployment with you."

He shook his head at her earnest expression. "Why would I take pants away with me when you can see my.... you know."

"Why not?" she asked, kissing his cheek.

He knew he was blushing as he softly said, "You know there will be other women on the aircraft carrier, right?"

"Yep," she replied, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'm sure they'll love the sweatpants, too. If you got it, flaunt it, Coach Bob."

He just gaped at her. "You wouldn't feel nervous about what might get said to me?"

Molly kissed along his bare chest, and Bob closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her bump resting against him. "Like something another woman might say? No. I trust you."

Bob let his hands rest on her lower back. "I'm going to miss you so much, Mo."

She nodded against him and whispered, "When those other women try to chat you up, you just tell them that your girlfriend is a goddamn delight. And that she was the one who bought the sweatpants to try to bring more happiness to the world."

"I will," he said with a smile, unconvinced that anyone else would look at or talk to him at all for the full duration of his deployment. But he appreciated the way Molly seemed to trust him. And he also appreciated the way her hand was gliding down the front of his new pants.

"Let's go pick up dinner," she whispered. And then she groaned. "The fact that I can't even eat real sushi right now is absolutely ridiculous."

"The cooked stuff is okay though," he said as she led him out of the bedroom.

"Stop lying to try to make me feel better."

Once they were at the sushi restaurant, waiting for their pickup order, Molly was getting a little handsy again. "Mo," he warned, his voice deep and a little raspy, but that just seemed to spur her on more. She ran her hands down the front of his tee shirt and let them skim along the elastic waistband of his pants.

"Bobby," she crooned softly. He thanked the hostess three times when she handed him their food, causing enough of a distraction to get Molly to pull her hands away from him.

But out in the parking lot, it was a different story. And at least it was dark now as Bob set the food on the passenger side floor before he held out his hand to help Molly climb in. But she just ran her hands all over his abs as she said, "You know what I was thinking? Since you're going to miss the anatomy scan ultrasound?"

"Hmm?" he hummed, barely able to pay attention to anything as Molly's hand dipped inside the front of his pants and stroked his hardening length.

"How about I take a video of it? And then you can watch it later? Or if we get to have a facetime call, I could try to play the video for you? You'd like that?"

Bob just throbbed in her hand as she slowly jerked him off in the middle of the parking lot next to the In-N-Out like it was nothing. Her earnest gaze let him know she had asked him a question.

"Huh?" he grunted, reaching for her pretty face with both hands.

"Would you like that, Bobby?" she asked, smiling as he leaned down to kiss her lips.

"Mo, I have no idea what you're talking about, Honey." It was the truth. Something about the baby? An ultrasound? He wasn't sure, and he couldn't think straight with her hand on him like this. And he was absolutely startled to find how much he liked the idea and the feel of her doing this in a semi public place.

Molly let her fingernails scratch gently down along his balls before she withdrew her hand and said, "Get in the truck." A second later, Bob was standing there outside the closed passenger side door, trying to hustle around the cab with a huge erection. When he climbed in the driver's seat, Molly had her hand on him again.

"What are you doing?" he asked, starting the truck and pulling out of the parking lot.

"Road head," she muttered casually. Then Molly leaned across the seat and took Bob between her lips. He had never done anything like this before. He'd never even been with a woman who liked to give head as much as Molly before. Not only that, she loved teasing him. Her breath ghosted along his skin before she took him deeper, and Bob was afraid he might drive off the road.

"Molly," he begged, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. "Please."

She popped him out of her mouth and said, "Of course, Coach Cute Glasses. Anything you want."

But instead of stopping, she sucked and bobbed and licked him, working him up into such a frenzy that he nearly wrecked into her parked car when he got back to the condo. Mrs. Evans was out walking her poodle, and Mr. Walters was taking a brisk jog, but that didn't stop Molly. She stripped out of her scrub pants and crawled across the seat. Then she rode Bob while he held her hips and belly.

Bob didn't care if the neighbors saw him. In less than twelve hours, he was going to have to be without the love of his life for weeks on end. So he didn't stop her from coming apart in his lap and making a mess all over his new pants.

"I love you, Daddy," she panted, running her hands through his already messy hair and tugging on him as he came. His hands were covering her belly, and Bob felt the sting of tears in his eyes knowing how much he was going to be leaving at home.

------------------------------

Molly couldn't do it alone. She already called for backup. The morning that Bob left on the aircraft carrier, her sister was waiting a short distance away on the dock. Molly watched as she and Bob exchanged a hug, after which her sister pressed a quick kiss to Bob's cheeks like a civilized person.

But not Molly. No, she was sobbing uncontrollably and clinging to her boyfriend like he was her lifeline. As if he was her only reason for living. "I love you," he whispered against her lips, his metal glasses cold against her cheek. "Both of you."

"I don't want you to leave," she sobbed, holding him so tight, her belly was smashed and uncomfortable. "Just stay."

Bob wiped her tears away and she looked at him in his khaki uniform, all ready to get to work on a mission she didn't even want to know about, because she was so scared.

"I can't, Mo," he whispered, kissing her forehead in the early morning sunlight. He looked so handsome with his tidy hair and his serious expression.

But she knew she looked like a messy little wreck, face streaked with new tears as she said, "I thought I would hold up better than this. I thought I would be okay." She didn't want to go back to the empty condo and have to figure out how to cook for herself. She didn't want to watch murder documentaries and eat gummy bears alone now that she knew what it felt like to have Bob with her.

"You will be," he reassured her. "You'll be better than okay." And then he sank to his knees in front of her, and Molly had to brace her hands on his shoulders. He kissed her belly though his white undershirt and looked up at her. "When you find out if we're having a son or a daughter, email me right away, okay? I can't wait to know."

"I will," she promised him, closing her eyes to memorize how lovely his hands felt on her body like this. Memorize how much he loved their baby.

And then he stood and kissed her so well and for so long, his fingertips holding her still, digging into her neck until he got his fill. So she decided to memorize how loved she felt, too. And then with a few more whispered words, Bob was walking away from her as she shook with tears.

When an arm wrapped around her shoulders, Molly jumped, surprised to find her sister there even though she'd begged her to skip the first hour or so of work. "I can't do this," she hiccupped, accepting the warm mom hug. "I'm already too lonely."

"You're not alone," she replied, kissing Molly's hair. "If it gets too hard, you can come stay with us."

Molly scoffed and wiped her eyes on her sister's work blazer. "I'm not staying with newlyweds. That's just rude. And also kind of disgusting. Like what if I accidentally heard Bradley blowing your back out or something?"

She rolled her eyes, and Molly turned to watch Bob waving from the carrier deck. She waved back and said, "Look how perfect he is."

"He's pretty great," her sister replied, linking their fingers together. "And he loves you."

Molly stood there as the sun grew hot against her back. The carrier left the San Diego harbor as she held her head high. Bob loved her, and she was the one he'd be thinking about while he looked sexy in his gray sweatpants and when he flew his mission. Well, her and the baby of course.

Her phone pinged with a text message as she was turning to go back to her car.

I miss you already, Mo.

-------------------------

What are we thinking about baby Floyd? Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing!

PART 11

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#bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fic #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd x oc #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd smut #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the curveball #batting practice

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