#i look at my notes for stuff and am pretty unimpressed

[sebscore]

GOSSIP GRID

pairings: pierre gasly x driver!reader / charles leclerc x driver!reader / yuki tsunoda x driver!reader

warnings: mention of sex and the whole piastri x alpine drama.

author’s note: this idea was dropped in my inbox, so thank you to the person that submitted it! I hope you like it!

• • • • • • •

“Oh my god, Gasly! You’re never gonna believe this- oh, hey Yuki. Charles.” Y/N found them in front of the Alpha Tauri hospitality.

They greeted her back. “Hi, Y/N!” “What’s going on?” Yuki simply giving her a small wave.

“I just found out about something, but you can’t tell anyone!” The young woman unsubtle looked around them, scanning if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation.

Charles, Yuki and Pierre’s face immediately turned serious at her words, taking a step closer to her.

“Allegedly, Alpine are going to announce Oscar Piastri as their new driver for the next season over the summer break.” Y/N whispered to them.

Charles furrowed his eyebrows and Yuki glanced at an unimpressed Pierre. “That’s it?”

“That’s it?” She mockingly copied him, “of course that’s not it, you bimbo.”

“The problem is that apparently McLaren want to sign him for the next season and Oscar is actually considering it.” She continued, looking at their reactions as she finished the whispers she had heard.

The three of them looked at her wide-eyed, not believing what they were hearing. “That can’t be true.” The Monegasques said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and McLaren already have their two drivers for the next season, that wouldn’t make any sense.” Pierre concluded, finding it weird that McLaren would drop one of their drivers for a rookie.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, simply chorusing what she heard from her “sources”. “That’s that I was told.”

“Yeah, but you believe anything if it’s any form of drama.” Pierre argued.

“That’s not true.”

“Y/N, remember when that rumour went around that you were pregnant? You literally believed that even thought you hadn’t had sex in months.” Charles added, pleading Pierre’s case that the woman was gullible.

She gasped as Charles’ words left his mouth, making the Japanese man next to her chuckle. “Hey! There was that girl on Dr. Phil that said she was pregnant by Jesus, you never know what can happen!” She defended herself, even though there was some truth to the drivers’ claims.

“But I am serious about this! You’ll see when that announcement is made that I’m right.” Y/N smirked, pointing her finger at herself and walking away.

“The girl's crazy.”

“She’s gonna get herself in trouble one day.”

“[BREAKING] Oscar Piastri drives for Alpine in 2023!”

“Oscar Piastri denies he will be driving for Alpine next year!”

“Piastri allegedly to sign contract with McLaren to succes Daniel Ricciardo!”

The headlines sounded, the summer break being bombarded by F1 drama.

The two French speaking men who had condemned their female friend for believing anything and everyone, were absolutely shocked that every single thing she had told them was actually true.

As soon as Oscar had send out his tweet, claiming that he wasn’t going to drive for Alpine, Pierre called her.

“Okay, how the fuck did you actually figure that out?”

Y/N loudly laughed, like a super villain would do. “Oh, now you believe me, Gasly? What were you saying a few weeks ago again? That I was gullible?”

“Alright, alright… I was wrong, I’m sorry.” He apologized. “But just- how?”

“Look Pierre, when you’ve got a pretty face like mine, it’s not that hard to get information out of people.” She smirked over the phone.

The Frenchmen couldn’t help but give her credit, she knew how to get stuff done. “Well, I’m impressed, Y/N. I wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“… if that’s your way to get me all like “oh no, Pierre, you’ve got a pretty face too” forget it!”

“I tried.”

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #f1!drivers x fem!driver #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc #pierre gasly x oc #yuki tsunoda x oc #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader

[landwriter]

1589 got me feeling&rambling and I'm so sorry beforehand that I can't keep it short and simple, as would probably befit the thing. Feel free to ignore if not interesting to you, still you are the one that comes to mind when thinking about Hob being morally grey.

That scene is always so painful to watch, mostly because Hob is behaving like such a sorry fool. He has really decked himself out to impress his stranger and misses the mark so dramatically.

(Whereas Dream seemingly has not held back either - I mean it's easily his hottest look, you can't tell me he didn't mean to make a lasting impression. So much disappointment on both sides.)

Cringe Hob as part of the dark Hob spectrum, his self-importance/selfishness showing - of course it's not pure fun to watch, but I'm always so fascinated by that flicker of pain (foreshadowing shame) that comes right to the surface in all his put on show, just before he orders the lamb. The contrast makes for a very intense moment, imo. And I am wondering, has he really left all of this behind by 1889? Or is he simply more smooth by that time (that's what I'm getting from the show) ? In fanfics his flaws are mostly depicted as minor or serving a good end in modern times, he is always such a goodie by then (and I love him, of course). But can we imagine just a trace of more questionable/offputting Hob in the mix (if only on impulse) - to be clear, I have no idea how that would work. Or should we just be grateful that that lies behind him (it certainly makes for a much more likeable character and a nicer love story)?

(me force feeding myself more of the horrible stuff I just wanted to avoid looking at)

It's a beautiful contrast: opulence and insecurity. Success and asking still for validation. I have Thoughts on each meeting (please send me asks about them) - ostensibly the very first fannish thing I did for this show, and also in my adult life, was rewatch the meetings and pause constantly and take - oh holy Christ over 4,000 words of notes.

I propose Hob is not acting like a sorry fool. Sure, some bits are clearly played for comedy. Hob is selfish, self-important, and given to hedonism. He is concerned primarily with his own comfort and the personal pleasures of life. But I blame 1589 pretty solidly on Dream. In 1489, after being asked what his experience is like, he answers Dream with an inarticulate statement spoken by a true person who just Digs The Experience of Experiencing: it's 'fucking brilliant' and 'all changing'. Dream asks how, Hob literally looks around the room like a student who forgot an essay was due, and names chimneys and playing cards. Handkerchiefs. Simple things - still sensual things - but simple ones. Certainly no sociopolitical discourse here. What will you people think of next, says Dream, deeply sarcastic and visibly disinterested. And Dream also asks him: but what is Hob doing with his time? This, too, he is under-prepared to answer. Soldiering, banditry, bit of printing press work. Hardly enough to impress this supernatural lord, and Hob can tell.

When he is granted, explicitly, another 100 years by Dream, it is not only a relief, but I think a part of Hob squares its jaw in that moment and says: I'll show him - I'll show him what I can do in a century, I'll earn his pleased regard. Not necessarily because he's even, you know, madly in love at this point, but because he's in it for the living, does not intrinsically have great ambitions, but does have someone who has a) seemingly granted him this greatest gift and b) is unimpressed with what he's doing with it. And he's lost everyone he knew. Dream is now his oldest acquaintance, and wouldn't it be nice if he liked Hob?

He knows only the language of what impresses other men, and this is what he achieves. But to Dream, both Hob's socially-valued successes and his deeply personal ones are terrifically uninteresting. They are not New Dreams To Spur The Minds Of Men. There is no new story in a man seeking fortune and having a wife and a child he loves. He is ancient as the first dreaming thing, and he is Bored. He is, in fact, soured on this meeting from the outset, when he says "Hello, Hob," which on my watch struck me, apparently, as extremely bizarre and of having a real air of Hob being In Trouble. (The only other times Dream says his name are at the first, looming and omniscient, and in 1789, - 'I suggest you find yourself a different line of business, Robert Gadling'. He does not say it at their modern meeting.)

I mean - how would you impress someone? Someone who was interested in your deeds? Putting on a nice little dinner and catching them up on your life, talking about your family, seems a decent enough shout. It's not like you can ask him about his life, he won't offer information when asked and only sometimes will correct you if you venture your own guesses. (see also: 1889 foreshadowing) Hob is feeling proud and triumphant, feeling like he's come far. He is obviously a bit obnoxious about it, but I do think Dream shows off his flaws far more in 1589 than Hob does.

Hob's greatest sin, here, is trying to be liked. His greatest regret is almost certainly not the spread he put on, but the moment he was really, truly, earnest - not underscored even by a subsequent joke - the moment he declaims that this is what he had imagined Heaven to be like (safe enough to walk the streets; good food; good wine) - Life is so rich, he says - and Dream looks away to listen to Will Shaxberd, and we watch real time as Hob's expression collapses. He had leaned forward nearly out of his chair in enthusiasm, and now he shrinks back, reminded again of the dangers of earnestness: being alone in it. Being ignored. Better to make a joke of things, which is why he tells so many around Dream, especially after being more open - it's clearly a matter of habit. (It is also, incidentally, absolutely unappealing to Dream, who really and truly looks at him for the first time in 1689, when he is stripped of the social niceties of men and reigns nothing in.) He eats. He frets. He has had another century, and he has failed to impress the stranger.

The worst moment, I think, is that Dream does not renew their compact. He does not ask Hob if he still wishes to live, and Hob does not get the opportunity to say "Oh, yes." He was given this gift for one reason: the stranger was curious about his experiences. Does the stranger seem still curious about him now? I wonder, honestly, if Hob thought he would see another meeting.

Has he really left that all behind by 1889? No - you hear it in his own words, 'People are almost always better than you think they are.' - the earnesty, and then the joke - 'Not me, though, still the same as ever.' Except it's not really a joke, is it? Hob is saying to Dream, I know you don't think much of me, well, I don't pretend to think much of myself. He still wants Dream's validation, of course, he's just trying to earn it differently. (It goes poorly.) He's smoother, but also more frustrated, more fed up, more hungry for knowledge of his stranger; and I think that's such an interesting point in time for him. I think he leaves little behind, and what he does leave behind, he dreams of. He's changed so much and so little, and I think you could really go in whatever direction you want depicting that and be convincing.

I can't speak to the fanon on Hob's flaws because I don't read nearly as much as I wish I could. While I don't personally think 1589 Hob was actually that questionable or offputting - at least no more than most people would be in that situation - I would love to see a modern fic where has the same flaws he's always had, where they come up maybe different than they would have several centuries ago, but they absolutely exist, it does have plot consequences. Bonus points if he is not being offputting for the purposes of rescuing Dream from the fishbowl - if his flaws exist independent of his relationship with Dream altogether. Bonus bonus points if Hob is the one whose character development needs to be developed and Dream is in a better place than he is. If anyone has fic recs feel free to drop them in the comments!

P.S. 1589 Dream, wow, yes, for sure. 10/10 would babble and get walked out on

#the sandman #dreamling #century meetings #meta #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the amount of them just not understanding what the other person wants or is offering at first is incredible #1489 #1589 #an essay #i really do think the dynamics in the first few meetings are SO INTERESTING and precarious

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 20: The Rabbit and the Tree

Summary: Two of Thor's friends come to visit New Asgard. Loki finds an opportunity for revenge.

Word Count: 2,702

Author's Note: Wow, 20 chapters? I can't believe you guys are reading this stuff. What a bunch of nerds (I love you).

Masterlist

Loki and Thor were meandering near New Asgard's docks, the afternoon sun glinting off the water. Their official duties were complete for the day and there was some time to kill before they met you for dinner. Their friendly conversation was broken when an aircraft passed overhead. Its shape was almost bird-like, the wings had fins fanning out like feathers. It appeared to be landing in the field just outside of town.

Thor whooped and grinned and swatted Loki on the arm. "Come, Loki, these are friends." He started off at a jog toward where the ship had landed and Loki followed.

When the brothers emerged from between the buildings of New Asgard, Loki had to take a moment to adjust to the sight. The ship had set down in the field and opened its bay. Coming down the ramp was what appeared to be a bipedal raccoon and a person who was also a tree. There was one silver metal crate resting in the grass and the raccoon was directing the tree in unloading a second. Thor called out to them and the raccoon turned around.

"Ey, Thor!" He quickly jumped out of the way, the tree creature had dropped the crate to wave at Thor. "Watch it, you idiot! You almost crushed me!" "I am Groot." The tree responded apologetically. The raccoon climbed on top of one of the crates, which brought him to about eye level when the brothers drew near.

Thor beamed and greeted them both with a handshake, though the tree pulled him into a hug. "The Guardians! It's so good to see you both." He turned to Loki. "Loki, this is Rocket and Groot. I've mentioned them. They helped to forge Stombreaker. In fact, its handle was grown from Groot's arm." He patted the tree's arm for emphasis. "I am Groot." The tree swelled with pride. "Pleasure to meet you." Loki stated dutifully. The raccoon narrowed his eyes and leaned in close, inspecting Loki's face. Loki disdainfully took a step back. The raccoon looked unimpressed. "So this is the dead brother?" Thor chuckled. "Yes, this is my brother, Loki." "Meh. He's okay I guess." The tree gasped. "I am Groot!" Rocket shrugged. "What? I said he's okay!"

Thor laughed and threw an arm around Loki's shoulders, perhaps to calm the irritation that was clearly mounting. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, friends?" Thor valiantly tried to redirect the conversation.

"Quill's meeting with the Avengers for some reason or other. Groot and I thought we'd pop over and bring you a present." He grinned and tapped his foot on the crate beneath him. "We were liberating some artifacts from this guy out in Tarnax system when I noticed these and said 'Hey, Thor would probably like this!'" "I am Groot." Groot was indignant. "Okay, okay, maybe Groot pointed 'em out but I knew you'd want 'em." He was unfastening latches along the top of the crate. "These gifts," Thor stepped closer to the crate, looking apprehensive, "you stole them?" "Nah, not these ones." Rocket waved his hands in defense. "Turns out the guy was already dead so technically it was looting." "Even so, I-" "Look, just let me show you what we got!" With that he kicked the top of the crate and one half of the lid slid off onto the ground.

The crate was filled with books. Thor picked one up and turned it over in his hands. "These are-" "Asgardian." Loki said as he lifted a book from the crate and the brothers shared a look of disbelief. "Eh? Eh? Pretty good, right?" The racoon stood above them with a toothy grin. Thor was overjoyed. "Rocket, this is incredible!" "Yeah, he was some kinda pack rat." "I am Groot." "A collector, whatever." He pointed to the aircraft. "We got these two crates plus another one on the ship. I figured you'd want 'em all since your kingdom or whatever got blown to hell."

Loki sifted through the books, he noted that the subjects varied wildly. They ranged from memoir to medical guide to history to fiction. It seemed whoever had gathered this collection was mostly concerned with their Asgardian origin rather than their content. Loki wondered if the owner had even been able to read the texts.

Groot had opened the second crate and Thor was inspecting the contents. "We must compensate you for this." "Oh, sure, what did you have in mind?" "I am Groot!" Rocket's ears pinned back. "Yeah, fine. Stark already paid us." He crossed his arms and glared at the tree. "We could've been paid twice, you dummy." Thor laughed and clapped Rocket on the back. The raccoon barely kept his footing. "I must remember to thank Stark for his generosity. This is cause for celebration. We-" Thor's face fell. "Oh, I had forgotten, we were meant to dine with a friend tonight. We must let her know we can't attend."

In that moment a positively delicious idea occurred to Loki. "Nonsense, brother! You know how much our friend loves to host, I'm sure she'd be happy to have two more at the table." Thor hesitantly agreed. "I suppose that is true." "Of course it is. Here, give me your phone and I'll explain the situation to her while you catch up with your friends."

Thor turned Loki away from the Guardians, who were now bickering about unloading the last crate, and lowered his voice. "You will warn her of the... nature.. of our guests, yes?" Loki scoffed. "Obviously." Thor nodded and placed his phone in Loki's hand before turning to assist Groot on the ship.

Loki strode away from the group, smirking as he found your name in the device and dialed. "Hey, Thor." Your cheerful voice came through. "No, even better." You gasped. "Loki! Look at you joining the 21st century." "Hardly. I still don't understand the appeal of this technology." "And yet you're using it." "Thor is occupied. He's had an unexpected visit from a couple friends. We were wondering if they could join us for dinner or if we needed to break your heart and cancel." You laughed. "I would be heartbroken. Bring them over, there should be plenty." "Wonderful news. We'll see you shortly."

He hung up and walked back to the group with his arms spread wide. "She says the more the merrier." Thor grinned. "Excellent!" He turned to the guardians. "I believe she is making roast tonight, it is a very fine dish." He paused. "I must ask you to please be kind to her, she is a very dear friend." Rocket waved dismissively. "No problem. Terrans love me." "I am Groot." "Well, Quill does." "I am Groot." "He does most of the time."

The crates of books were brought into town and stowed safely, and the group set off on foot toward the destination of dinner.

"You guys seriously just walk like this all the time?" Rocket had clambered onto Groot's back pretty early in the journey. "I could whip you up a ride pretty easy. You'd be there by now." Thor chuckled. "We could have a vehicle, if we wished. The walk is quite pleasant, and we can better enjoy your company and the scenery." Rocket looked up at the trees and mountains, unconvinced. "I guess."

When the party arrived at your door, Loki made sure to place himself in such a way that he would be able to see your face while also ensuring the new guests would be in full view when you opened the door. Rocket had climbed back down from Groot's back and was standing on his own two feet, perhaps to be more presentable. Groot was staring at your yew tree. Thor knocked.

The door opened, you were smiling. "Hey-" Your eyes landed on the two new additions and for just a split second your expression was everything Loki had hoped for. You recovered quickly but he had committed your startled look to memory. He kept his face neutral as you replaced your smile. "Hey, boys! Who are your friends?"

Thor introduced you to Rocket and Groot and you didn't hesitate for a moment to shake their "hands" and invite them inside. "I am Groot." You hesitated. "Yes, it's nice to meet you, Groot." "Groot ain't got very sophisticated speaking skills." Rocket was leading the group inside. "He says he likes your tree." "Oh." You took this revelation in stride as you looked back to Groot. "Thank you, it's-"

You were cut off by fierce, bellowing barks. Ash had rounded the doorway from your bedroom and charged forward at the sight of the unusual guests. You ran and caught him by the collar, he stopped and barked again.

Rocket had fled to Groot's shoulder and pulled a weapon from nowhere. "Hey, what gives!?" "Sorry, sorry, he's just not used to, uh, visitors like yourselves." You were working to calm the dog, he had gone quiet but still stared fixedly at the guests. "Fair enough." Rocket put the weapon away but remained perched on Groot's shoulder. "Ash is a most amiable companion, once he knows you." Thor added. "I am Groot." Groot smiled and waved at the dog, who did not respond at all. "Why don't you guys hang out for a minute, I still have a few things to get ready for dinner and Ash needs a second to cool down." You motioned to the couch and led Ash away to the kitchen.

Thor and the guardians took seats in the living room, discussing their recent exploits. Loki stood with them for a moment before excusing himself.

In the kitchen you were working at the counter. You had instructed Ash to go to his bed and technically he had complied; he was on the cushion against the wall, but standing at attention and keeping a watchful eye on the visitors in the living room.

Loki came to stand beside you. "You don't seem quite yourself this evening." Your elbow caught him in the ribs, he laughed and flinched away. "My, little bird, you are in a state." You narrowed your eyes at him. "You think you're funny." "Oh, I'm certain that I am." "Look what you did to my poor dog." You motioned to Ash, who was still focused on the new arrivals. Loki did feel a slight pang of guilt. "Unfortunate collateral. I'll make it up to him." "I hope it was worth it." "Oh, darling, the image of your face when you opened the door will buoy my spirits on the darkest of days." He was smirking unabashedly. "You just wait. I'll get you back for that." He chuckled. "I'll not be taking any more walks with little old ladies." You stopped and looked up at him with mischief in your eyes. "You really think I'd try the same thing twice? Revenge will be easier than I thought." "I admire your confidence, however misplaced it may be." "Shut up and put some plates on the table."

Satisfied in his victory, Loki began setting the table. You laid out the food and he noticed you placed a box under the cushion of one of the chairs. "For Rocket." You quietly explained when you caught him watching.

The meal was ready and you called the group to the table. You wasted no time at all engaging your new guests in conversation. Ash remained ever-vigilant from his bed.

"You guys are the Guardians of the Galaxy?" "I am Groot." "That's us." Rocket was examining the fork he'd been given. "This galaxy?" Rocket shrugged. "Eh, close enough." "You cover a lot of ground, er, space, I guess." "Yeah we go all over, hero-ing here, saving there. All very righteous stuff. We even saved Earth from an evil planet, once." Your brows furrowed. "You saved Earth from a planet?" "Well, the planet was a guy." "They brought us the most wonderful gift today." Thor swallowed a mouthful. "Books! From Asgard. A collector had gathered quite a number of Asgardian books that had been taken off world before Ragnarok." "That's amazing!" Your eyes lit up as if it was your own culture's victory. "What sort of books?" "Quite an eclectic variety." Loki cut in. "They span many subjects." "That's fantastic!" Your enthusiasm was tangible as you turned to the brothers. "I'm so happy for you." Thor smiled. "It is quite the boon." "Yeah, we are pretty great." Rocket gloated. "I'd love to read them." You caught yourself, and looked a little sheepish. "I mean, I know I won't be able to read them. But to see them would be really cool." Loki couldn't help but find your eagerness charming. Thor nodded. "They will be available to everyone, eventually. For now they are simply to be kept safe. I'm going to speak to Stark about having each one scanned, catalogued, archived, perhaps even duplicated. These are precious, we can't afford to have any lost to us again."

The conversation turned back to the Guardians and their adventures; your curiosity was insatiable. You seemed to recognize Rocket's embellishments in his tales, but you were amiable enough to accept them without mention. Thor of course captivated you with the story of the forging of Stormbreaker.

Groot spent most of the meal watching Ash, who, in turn, was watching Groot. Groot would smile or wave or speak to the dog, and looked dejected when he didn't receive a response. Eventually, he took a piece of roast and stretched his hand out to Ash. Loki and Thor waited, expecting you to stop him, but you merely watched. Ash was clearly conflicted; torn between his desire for roast and his need to not come near this strange creature. Groot eventually set the roast on the floor at Ash's feet. The dog found this acceptable, and ate it quickly. Groot offered him another piece, and this was taken from his hand with only a little hesitation.

"I am Groot!" He grinned at the group. "You reprimand me for feeding Ash from the table." Thor sulked at you. "Well he isn't scared out of his wits by your presence." You responded.

By the end of the meal Groot had made fast friends with the dog, who eventually came to sit beside him. This seemed to have put you more at ease as well. You stopped watching him so closely and became further engrossed in the conversation. You seemed considerably disappointed when the evening came to a close, with Rocket stating that they had to get back to New York. Everyone stood and you walked the group to the door.

"Thanks for the chow." Rocket gave you a two-finger salute. "I am Groot." "Groot says thanks also." You smiled. "It was my pleasure. You're welcome back any time."

You meant it, Loki took a moment to observe. It was something he admired about you. Outside of your absurd stories or the occasional act of charity, you very rarely lied. Most people told a dozen little lies throughout the day, small pleasantries or lies to keep the peace. But when you wished someone well or told them you hoped they had a good day, or even when you offered to host bizarre aliens for dinner, these were all things that you meant truly. He wondered where you got the energy.

"I am Groot." The tree spoke to Rocket as they stepped outside. "No, we can't get one." "I am Groot?" "Because I would be the one that would end up having to feed it and take care of it, that's why." "I am Groot!" "Look, start by cleaning your room and then we'll talk about it. Maybe a fish or something." "I am Groot." He pouted. "Fine, go ask Quill about it, then! I don't care."

You hugged Thor goodbye and gave Loki his usual nod. As he was leaving you spoke low enough that only he could hear. "Watch your back, Loki Odinson." He looked over his shoulder and offered a confident smile as you closed the door.

Rocket looked down the road and threw his hands up in frustration. "And now we gotta WALK all the way BACK! Why do you live like this??"

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@mischief2sarawr, @imalovernotahater, @norestfortheshelbywicked, @purplekitten30, @ozymdias, @pdraxxi, @goblingirlsarah, @chantsdemarins

#loki #loki x reader #loki fanfic #loki & thor #loki mcu #slow burn #no y/n #mcu loki #loki fanfiction #loki thrown

[mermaidsirennikita]

thoughts on vulture's "12 romantasy authors to know"? except for jacqueline carey, i feel like they missed the chance to include proper romance/erotica authors.

This list is so boring and lacks innovation or knowledge of romance novels... is my first thought.

My second thought is that it once again underscores how much romantasy is not a subgenre or genre and is in fact a bullshit marketing thing. When I tell y'all this... Trust me when I say I know what I'm talking about, lol. Even if we can trace back to BookTok or many years ago when some blogger coined the term. It's not as organic as it seems. (... very literal online marketing stuff is, but that's another deal).

My opinions on the authors specifically:

Anne McCaffrey. Never read, have honestly never wanted to read, am unimpressed with the author's squeamishness around the dragons getting it on influencing the riders getting it on (and the narration cutting away when the dragons start going at it...)? Anyway, Fourth Wing also does this, and does not cut away from the Violet and Xaden Feelin' The Dragon Love. The excerpt doesn't make me want to read these books, and frankly people I trust don't seem enthused about them; nor would those people classify them as romance.

Marion Zimmer Bradley. I have read The Mists of Avalon, and I liked parts of it (and had severe issues with others) until I found out that MZB was an absolute MONSTER. Like, straight to Hell, do not pass go, MONSTER. I recommend looking at her Wikipedia page for more, but proceed with caution if you're not familiar--CSA. So I find it pretty weird that this person even recommended her here. Like, the little note under "Controversies" is incredibly weird. Maybe just don't recommend MZB. She's not controversial--she is, was, a HIDEOUS, scum of the Earth, vile human being. We can discuss her work and its influence, but this list is positioned as a rec list, and I frankly find that pretty... questionable.

Anyway, for the rest: her books are absolutely not romance, and are actually not even really romantic...? Like, most of the physical relationships in the books are coercive, extremely taboo and forbidden, or physical without involving emotion.

Diana Gabaldon. I think Diana is a talented writer, I'll stand by the fact that Outlander is not a romance unless you stop reading at the first book (which you totally can lol it honestly stands alone), she has disdain for romance while profiting off it, and she is obsessed with SA in her work so. Probably one of the closest things to a romance author here. Also, can I say, I hate "Smut Factor". Smut is such a dumb word to me.

Jacqueline Carey. Haven't read, have heard mixed things about, every romance reader I've seen qualifies this as "it's not a romance, but" lol. Maybe I'll read someday....

Cassandra Clare. Having read a good number of Cassie's books (9, I think?) nope lol. Heavy romantic elements in her books. Not romance novels. Not even a bit.

SJM. I think SJM is again, pretty close to romance? I think she embraces it more (because she's if nothing else a smart businesswoman)? But I find her books not great, and I really do debate their status as romance novels. I mean, having just read a fantasy romance that really did feel like a ROMANCE to me... SJM doesn't seem to hit the same marks.

I will say lol. Still mad about the MZB thing. When you compare the thing under "Controversies" for her compared to Cassie Clare and SJM... I mean, they did bad things, I'm not excusing that. But when you compare them to the actual criminal acts of MZB... Lol why is she here???

Danielle L. Jensen. No complaints from me after A Fate Inked in Blood, she belongs here. Maybe someday I'll try Bridge Kingdom again? But right now, I'm on the Unfated train.

Jennifer L. Armentrout. These do sound like romances, but I've never read them so I can't judge. I hear bad things from one of my friends so I doubt I'll get into them. The one thing I do want to read about is the ritualistic hookup between the heroine and her boyfriend and his best friend...? Which is apparently straighter than it should be? I don't know, dude. That's always a disappointment for me. ALL OR NOTHING.

Scarlett St. Clair. I've read one book by her. She's romance, but I... did not like it.

Naomi Novik. I read Uprooted back in the day. Would not call it a romance, but a fantasy with a romance subplot. Wasn't into it.

Carissa Broadbent. Haven't read. Intrigued?

Rebecca Yarros. I've read Fourth Wing and Iron Flame. They don't reinvent the wheel, they have issues. They're also compulsively readable and I enjoyed them. I'm surprised there aren't any controversies listed here?

Of course. That may be a choice on Vulture's part.

#romance novel blogging

[theunwillingassistant]

Warning [THE CHAIR, PART NINE]

Sam hadn’t gone to bed just yet. Considering his Boss was still up, it was normal for him to stay awake, just in case. He was getting pretty sleepy though, and it was with half closed eyes that he tried to focus on the papers in front of him. With Lufroz being unavailable, he had to take a part of the work to relieve the Spider a little. It was boring paperwork, mostly, that didn’t exactly help him to stay awake.

Ever since Lufroz (reluctantly) joined the Obsidian branch, most of the boring tasks had been delegated to him. It had brought some fresh air to Morgan and his right hand man, who could focus on more interesting parts of their job. Now, though… Sam’s head was full of finance stuff, meetings, organization notes… 

As far as he knew, Morgan hadn’t left his office. Sam’s was a floor above, still underground nonetheless. The last floor was his Boss’s, where his office, playroom, and bedroom were, among other things. Morgan had an apartment, in one of the best neighborhoods there was, though he hardly went there anymore. He did have a tendency to overwork himself sometimes- and, in the end, there was no playroom in his apartment. 

Sam resisted the urge to yawn, and glanced at the clock on the wall: three AM. This late, already? And he had to wake up early… Oh, the night was going to be short, wasn’t it?

He sighed. Well, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Well, if he finished filling the paperwork soon, he might get a chance to sleep a little. The leather couch in the corner of his office was tempting him, beckoning him to come closer… Lie down a little… Maybe take a quick nap…

But he knew better. If Morgan caught him sleeping on the job, he knew that there would be consequences, especially with how busy they were. No, no, he had to finish his work.

And so, he kept going, doing his best to stay awake. He could feel his eyes closing, more and more at each minute. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate. At some point, he was pretty certain he was sleeping at his desk. 

It was only when the door of his office violently opened that Sam’s consciousness was pulled back to reality. He jumped in his seat, his tired eyes quickly focusing on the one person that had opened his door so brutally.

Morgan. And, the look on the latter’s face was not good. Not good at all.

-”Uh… Hm,” Sam tried to pull himself back together, but with a body that wanted nothing but to shut down, things were a bit more difficult: “Yes, Sir?”

-”Are you going to talk, or do I have to take the words out of your mouth?” was the first thing the Spider told him.

With how exhausted he was, Sam wasn’t really understanding what was going on. Had he made a mistake somewhere? At this hour? He had spent so long in his office, he wasn’t even sure what he could have messed up…

But his Boss’s eyes were enough for him to know that, yes, there must have been something. Yet, he couldn’t see it.

-”I’m sorry, Sir, but I don’t really see wh-”

-”So I’m taking the words out of your mouth, then,” the other concluded, crossing his arms with a clear frown on his face: “You might want to explain why I found my chair’s restraints loose.”

Oh.

Oh no.

This conversation was starting to feel like a cold shower, one that was definitely waking him up by the second. Oh, this was bad, very bad… It had been stupid of him to think Morgan wouldn’t notice. Of course he would.

-”I apologize, Sir,” he tried to defuse the situation before it got out of hand: “It was only so he could drink by himself, I tied him up again right after.”

The Spider lifted an eyebrow, visibly unimpressed by his attempt at justifying himself.

-”Oh, is that so,” the latter replied flatly: “Funny how you say that, because he smelled extremely good. You know, as if someone had let him out so he could use the bathroom, and take a shower.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit…

-”So,” his Boss continued, leaning into the threshold: “Wanna try that again?”

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. He had been caught red-handed, and lying. None of which were good in his field of work, especially when working under the Spider’s orders. To say that he had fucked up would be an understatement, at this stage.

The best he could do was to come clean, and hope for the other to be in a forgiving mood…

-”... I’m sorry, Sir. I did let him out,” he confessed, feeling his heart beating faster.

-”And you did it because…?” the white haired man pressed him with a scornful expression.

-”I…” It wasn’t like there were many answers to that question, except none of them would satisfy his Boss: “I… Felt sorry for him.”

-”You felt sorry for him,” the other repeated, deadpan: “And despite our previous conversation, you decided to let him go. Am I getting this right?”

-”... Yes, Sir,” he lowered his head.

A heavy silence followed his words, which did nothing to reassure the thirty-six year old man. Dread was filling him, more and more as seconds passed. He waited for the other to explode, scream at him, throwing reproaches… But none of that happened.

Instead, Morgan kept staring at him calmly… And that alone was perhaps more frightening. Why was he so calm…?

-”Alright, then,” he straightened himself: “That’s all I wanted to know.”

Sam couldn’t help but widen his eyes. Wait… He wasn’t getting anything…? No punishment, no reprimand, nothing…? Something was wrong, it had to be. 

-”W-wait…” the older man lost his straight face for a moment, showing his confusion: “That’s… That’s all…?”

At his uncertainty, the other snorted:

-”What, you want me to punish you?”

The right hand man shook his head.

-”No, but…” 

Morgan’s smile widened in the most unsettling way.

-”You’ve already been punished.”

-”I… I have?”

-”Yes,” the white haired man nodded: “I can’t put you in my chair, since it’s occupied, but… I highly doubt Lufroz will want to talk to you for a while. Just saying.”

Before Sam could process the information, his Boss waved and left without another word. There, the older man sat, his eyes looking into space as he was forced to realize something awful.

He hadn’t been punished.

Lufroz had been. For the two of them.

#kohrel #the unwilling assistant #tua #oc #morgan #morgan jareth bannister #sam #sam howard #text #text file

[ralfstrashcan]

Valentine is 3 shades crazier than anyone expected.

#shadowhunters #2x12 #valentine morgenstern #magnus bane #jace wayland #dumb comic #i honestly don't know what is going on #i swear this made sense at the time #(the time = five minutes ago don't talk to me) #also i know i know i've been terrible about updating stuff lately #it's just so uuuhhhhh #exhausting #i look at my notes for stuff and am pretty unimpressed #it doesn't help that there's tragically little shadowhunters stuff to be found on my dash lately #heh look who's talking #but yeah #i don't know what the point of this tag rambling is #but i'm tired and i do not care #so have it

[littlemissnoname13]

Sharing an apartment with the Slytherins would include:

Featuring: Slytherin!Reader ,Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott & Draco Malfoy ( sharing a flat in the muggle world)

Warnings: Crack fic, a few mentions of alcohol, very mild sexual themes

A/n: I’ve been watching too many sitcoms lately.This is my first time writing something like this. I’m so sleep deprived.

Masterlist

Sharing an apartment just to be around eachother even though almost all of them have enough galleons for an entire house in their respective gringotts vaults 

The first thing you all dragged up four storeys was a couch

Passing around a bottle of fire whisky as the five of you struggled to fit on the couch while drawing up your own personalised roommate agreement 

Draco giving you a dissatisfied frown. “What do you mean I can’t display my family’s dark artifacts on the TV unit?”

Theo looking equally unimpressed as Draco “Yeah, what am I supposed to do with my Time turner?”

“That's an illegal object Theodore.”

The entire living room slowly starting to resemble the Slytherin Common Room as the five of you start decorating

Telling the boys that not everything has to be green

Getting one of those door mats that read “wizards welcome. Muggles tolerated.”

Also the words “Cunning, Ambitious, Resourceful” written in pretty font somewhere around the house

Theo constantly losing his house keys

“Borrowing” from Pansy’s collection of killer outfits.

Of course she wouldn't mind considering the fact that your jacket is still tucked away somewhere in her closet.

A random girl leaving Draco’s room ever so often while the rest of you place your bets on “how long that will last”

Draco noticing Blaise handing you five galleons as his latest girl stomps out of the apartment with her high heels in her hand

Reminding everyone to behave themselves when you have someone new over 

This almost never works out and the person runs out of your home claiming that the five of you are nuts and need help

Hearing moans coming from Theo’s room in the middle of the night and knocking on the wall, reminding him that “people have jobs that require them to wake up early in the morning!”

The four of you being protective and interrogating Pansy’s questionable date for the night while she is still getting ready.

Surprise birthdays!!

Pamper and gossip nights with Pansy in your bathrobes, wearing clay masks and drinking wine while the boys are out.

The boys scratching their heads, looking at the two of you wearing ridiculous looking eye masks when they return home

Them eventually joining the two of you and you end up applying the clay mask on their faces too

Blaise sleeping with his mouth slightly open on the couch and Draco reluctantly throwing a knitted blanket over his body before disappearing into his own room

Blaise being the mum friend of the group. Constantly cleaning the house, and prepping food and buying groceries

Blaise, telling everyone off for not doing their share of house chores

Having a strict “no house elf” policy even though they were not too keen on the idea 

Strange things happening at your apartment on the daily ranging from failed potion experiments to magical creatures gone wild

Pansy running into the apartment breathless and locking the door behind her. “The lady next door gave me a bone chilling glare today. You lot ought to be careful with your bloody potions.” 

“Why do we have so much purple shampoo?”

Draco running in to grab all his bottles of purple shampoo, conditioner and toner and telling you off for going through his stuff.

“Its a communal bathroom Draco!”

Slytherin memorabilia. So much of it. So much of it everywhere. 

Being there for each other on the bad days and the good days

Attending other people’s weddings and birthdays and Anniversaries together even though all of you would rather stay in and watch a horror film

Bringing each other anti hangover concoctions after a rough night of partying

Greeting cards, post it notes, postcards and polaroids on the fridge 

An unfortunate looking photograph of the five of you together, framed and hanging on the wall

Blaise complaining that he wasn't ready for the photo but the rest of you ignore him because none of you look good in it either

You guys were each other’s chosen families

Probably screwing up and falling for one of your roommates..

Im too tired to sort out my tag list for this one. Soz :(

#slytherin #slytherin headcanon #draco malfoy #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #theodore nott #I don’t know what to tag. sigh. #draco imagine #slytherin things #blaise x reader #pansy x reader #Theodore Nott x reader #draco x reader

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

[doccywhomst]

Okay so I saw the post of which doctor to smoke with and like how they would act. But which would you watch anime with and what are they watching

Oh no...

okay, i am severely underqualified to make this post, but that might make it even funnier.

first doctor: fruits basket. yeah, i said it.

second doctor: he's a fucking moomin ADDICT. can't even pry him away from it. he identifies with snufkin on a soul level. he wants to form the universe's shittiest gnomecore band.

third doctor: he's really into psychological thrillers and crime dramas, so i think he'd go for psycho-pass or death note, but he also gets shaken really easily and has to distract himself with science stuff. by the end of an episode, he's written twelve new algorithms to fix the instability of the tardis' lamiar timeflow circuit drive and, oh look, next episo-

fourth doctor: motherfucker watches inuyasha religiously and i cannot be persuaded otherwise.

fifth doctor: he scoffed when tegan told him about anime and said that it was "unbelievably silly and childish, tegan, it's for humans about adric's age," but when she put on howl's moving castle, he wept violently. he keeps this photo in a heart-shaped locket.

sixth doctor: he watches nichijou while laying on his stomach and swinging his legs like a teen girl in a coming of age film. don't ask me how i know this.

seventh doctor: he walked in on ace watching totoro when it first came out and was instantly infatuated. completely fixated. obsessed. a soft-in-the-middle creature with an umbrella who takes kids on wacky adventures? love at first sight

eighth doctor:

war doctor: he watches the most viscerally depressing anime in existence as a kind of self-flagellation. he just needs a hug.

ninth doctor: he's too busy resonating concrete to watch anime, but i think he'd really like noragami. nine and yato are pretty similar: "gods" of war/death, nearly invisible to most people, extremely lonely - yet they're both upbeat, funny, and willing to help others at their own expense. good shit

tenth doctor: fruits basket again. you fucking know it's true. he wants kyo to win so bad

eleventh doctor: he's watched more hours of anime than you've been alive. when amy and rory are around, he puts on working!! and ouron high school host club, and he switches it to parasyte when they leave

twelfth doctor: bill introduces him to anime and he's completely unfazed and unimpressed until sailor moon comes on and then he's HOOKED

thirteenth doctor: five, eleven, and thirteen get together every (relative) thursday for sad and romantic anime movie nights. they braid each other's hair and do face cleansing masks and drink vodka screwdrivers with too much orange juice. there are monogrammed bathrobes and cucumber slices involved.

who i'd choose: okay, i'm sure this will come as a surprise to no one, but five and twelve have the best taste which is why they're my favorites. i'd watch miraculous ladybug with eight, but attack on titan is too bleak for me, so we'd have to come to an arrangement.

i don't know that much about anime, but i'm still curious about who you'd pick, so put it in the tags 👀

#dont boo me im right #doctor who #classic who #anime #first doctor #second doctor #third doctor #fourth doctor #fifth doctor #sixth doctor #seventh doctor #eighth doctor #war doctor #ninth doctor #tenth doctor #eleventh doctor #twelfth doctor #thirteenth doctor

[skylarmoon71]

Bumblebee (Extra)

"Nothing exciting ever happens here, it's so damn boring. " your friend complained. You were sure if she knew half of what you did, she'd be thankful for the boring days.

"By the way, Mr. Henderson got a new assistant, I heard he's a real cutie, maybe we can get you a boyfriend."

"I'm not interested. " you didn't care for anyone but Bumblebee. Just the thought of him had you smiling. You opened your locker, switching books. "You keep saying that. Do you have a secret I should know about?" she raised a brow.

"Quit playing, it's nothing like that. I'm just interested in someone else already."

"I know, that's what you always say, when can I meet your mystery crush."

"It's a long distance thing, so who knows when." she just looked unimpressed. If you say so (Y/N)."

You kept walking, still chatting with your friend. Someone coming out hurriedly from a door in front of you made you backtrack. The male spun around, almost knocking into you. The frantic way in which he moved indicated that maybe he was looking for someone. When his brown eyes locked unto you, his smile got brighter.

He was decked down in a pair of slacks and a button up white shirt. The dark hair matched his pretty eyes. You weren't sure if he was a student of part of the faculty. You barely paid much mind to people other than the ones you conversed with on a regular basis.

"(Y/N)!" the excitement on the man's face was unnerving. What threw you completely off is his voice. It sounded exactly like the one in your dream that time with Bee. Your cheeks color, and you take some more steps back. "W-Who are you?" You can tell he wants to talk, but his eyes move to your friend.

"I'm uhhh, well that's a good question I'm.."

He's not really forming sentences, or making much sense. Your friend however is gushing.

"No need to get bashful, I can tell when I'm being a third wheel. See ya (Y/N)!" Her enthusiasm is high as she completely abandons you with this strange boy.

"She likes sushi!!" she calls, right before she's gone, all the way around the corner. You know she doesn't suspect that this guy is in any way harmful, but you don't have the same level of trust. The last guy that ran into you like this turned out to be a psychotic Decepticon hellbent on assassinating you. You aren't ready to replay that record anytime soon. You keep the distance between the both of you, watching him wearily.

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but this place is packed with people. There's no way you'd risk getting caught here." you're on the defense. But at least this time you're not alone in the building.

"What? Wait no no, I'm not a Decepticon (Y/N)." some more students buzz by, a few girls sending the male a little smile and wink. He doesn't even seem to register it. His focus is completely on you.

"I know I look different like this but I-" He takes a step forward, and you move back. He raises his hand to assure you there's no need to be afraid.

"It's me (Y/N). Bumblebee." You don't really believe at first, but when the quick glimmer of blue rushes over his orbs, you gasp in surprise. That look, the one he'd given so many times when you were just lounging around, There was no mistaking it.

"Bee..." He smiles in relief, rushing over and pulling you into his arms. He picks you up, spinning you around laughing, and you clutch unto him unprepared, letting out a small squeal.

"B-But how did you.." You just saw him this morning and he in no way looked like this.

"I'll tell you everything."

This was about to be one hell of a story.

~~~~

The next few hours feel like torture. You're so anxious for school to let out so you can talk to Bee, who you found out was the assistant mentioned earlier. The entire day he spent practically at your side when he wasn't working. You were still adjusting to the fact that he was walking around in your school. Another shocker was his ease carrying out the job. Being an advanced robot probably helped a lot in that department. The ringing of the final bell goes off, and before you can seek out Bumblebee, he's already found you.

"(Y/N)!!" His call directs a lot of female attention in your spot, and you avert your eyes. There were no doubt a few bitter girls. Bumblebee catches up, taking your hand into his. The smile he sends you banishes the stares you once felt, and he guided you out the school doors. Out of earshot of the other students, Bumblebee goes on a full on rant.

"This is so awesome! I never thought being human was this incredible, of course humans are amazing. Not as amazing as you of course (Y/N). You guys do some much down here although you're so tiny. Doesn't it get tiring being this small. And the girls at your school are really curious too, they kept asking so many questions. "

They were definitely hitting on him.

"I'm just so happy to be able to be with you like this. When Optimus first told me about it I was so skeptical, but look at me, I'm human!" his yell earned a weird look from a passer by, and you pulled him off to the side.

"M-Maybe don't say stuff like that in the open okay Bee." he looks at the woman who just walked by, giving a little smile and wave. She just keeps walking forward.

"Huh, thought humans liked it when you waved." he looks down at his hand to maybe inspect it to see if he did it wrong, and you just watch him. Parts of this still barely made sense, but you had to admit, the human version of Bumblebee was almost as cute as the autobot one. He still held that innocence and curiosity.

"Hey Bee, If you're here, who's' with Sam?"

"Oh, Ironhide. He said being human is overrated. He's gonna be Sam's ride for a while. I can still transform you know, wanna see!" you shake your head.

"N-Not here!" he blinks. "Oh, right right. Good call." just like that he's grinning again.

"I'm so glad I can hold hands with you like this." he takes your hand softly in his, and you do love the warmth it gives off. It's the same way you always feel around him.

"Let's get back to my house." Maybe when you're in your own environment you'd be able to question him freely.

~

The moment you step through your door you fully expect your mother to be there. Because for once, you're able to show her the boy you've been madly in love with for months. But you meet nothing but silence. "Mom?" you enter, and Bumblebee follows close behind. When you make out the note stuck to the fridge you sigh.

"Hey sweetheart, I have an overnight shift. There's money for pizza on the table when you get hungry. Enjoy!"

Figures.

"Hey Bee, can you come here for a second?"

"Yep!" He's by your side in seconds, and you pull out your phone, switching the camera.

"I just wanna take a picture to send to my mom. I was kind of hoping she'd be here, but she has to work late today. Say cheese." he turns to the camera and as you're about to snap the picture, he presses a kiss to your cheeks. You blush, a bit unprepared. The camera snaps it and you lower your hand, looking at him shyly. He just returns it with a cheeky smile. His eyes move down to the picture. "I love it." he mutters.

Although you know this is Bumblebee, to you it's still a bit strange. As a human, it almost feels like he's a different person. A lot more forward about everything. His eyes shift in your direction as you make your mini assessment, and something flickers in his brown orbs.

The minute they zero in on your lips, you take a step back lowering your head as you tuck the phone into your pocket. You start a trip to your room, and Bumblebee trails behind. The silence that follows has you a bit unnerved, so you decided now is as good a time as any to find out how it all came about.

"W-Well how about you tell me how this all happened Bee."

"Yeah.." His answer sounds distracted, and you peep to the side to read his expression as you're walking up the stairs. Upon entering your room, you open the door for him to step in. He does, closing it as he enters. His eyes dart from one side to the next, and the excitement returns tenfold. His eyes shine an electric blue, and you can only guess it's a lapse of control because he's so eager to see and understand it all.

"Your room is amazing!! " To you it isn't that great. There's a few posters on the walls of your favorite bands and artists. Your desk with all your school equipment and some little nicks and knacks to the side. The bed is situated a bit closer to the window that gives you a view of the neighborhood below.

"Thank you Bee."

His enthusiasm is so adorable, and it just reminds you why you adore the Autobot. He moves closer to the bed, poking the soft surface. "I-Is it alright if I sit down?" You nod.

"Of course Bee, make yourself at home." He's grinning, flopping back on the bed with a little cheer, and you giggle.

"Awesome!!"

"For you I guess this is all brand new. You guys don't exactly sleep like the rest of us. "

That and his adjusted size, you probably would have a similar reaction if you were in his shoes.

"I'm glad you like it." You placed your bag down, taking a seat on the bed. Bumblebee sat upright, shifting closer to you, and you just titled your head with a smile.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just really happy that we're this close."

There he goes again, saying stuff like that to make your insides flutter in the most heavenly way.

His body is now facing you, and you can practically feel the pull he's giving off as he looks at you. He bits his lower lip, and you can hear the small breath he takes as he begins to lean in. You pull back, standing and wringing your hands. "A-Are you hungry? We should get something to eat. '' you try to take a step to the door.

"Why do you do that?" you freeze in place. Bumblebee stands, and the hurt that he expresses causes your heart to constrict. He looks down at his palm as if searching for something.

"I thought if I looked like this it would bring us closer, but it seems to have done the exact opposite. Am I not appealing to you as a human?"

You rush over to him shaking your head. "Of course not Bee, you'd never be unappealing to me no matter how you look. Autobot or human, I love you regardless." As the words leave your lips, you become still. Neither of you have really said that particular word yet. You look away bashfully.

"I love you too (Y/N), so much."

He doesn't even need to say the words, you already know. Nevertheless, you love hearing it.

He takes your hands in his, and the warmth is familiar.

"Then why do you keep running from me?"

You need to explain, but it's just so embarrassing. The red that graces your cheeks only adds to Bumblebee's puzzle.

"Bee...do you remember when I kept avoiding you that week." His brows knit in utter confusion now. What did that have to do with anything. Truth be told he rather not remember. Because it was a tough week for him.

He was so convinced that he'd done something to tarnish your friendship, but he had no idea what it was. That's what drove him crazy. "I remember." He answers tightly.

"It wasn't because of anything you did, and I should have explained it all that day I was just so embarrassed about it all so I tried to deal with it on my own but I just made everything worse."

"I don't understand, what did you try to deal with?"

"Bee, I had a dirty dream about you."

"Dirty?" Oh how you wish you didn't have to explain that concept to him.

"A sexual dream." you clarified.

He stilled. "Sexual.." His brain seems to be computing the meaning behind the words. When he does, you can see the way his eyes become wide.

"B-But w-what I-I was still an h-how did you...I-I.." you cover your face.

"I-I'm sorry!!" you're mortified. "N-No it's fine I just never thought that you felt that way. For so long too." He sounds almost in awe. There were so many questions whirling in his mind. He knew since that day that he followed you to the warehouse that something was different. The way he felt about you was not the same as Sam or even Mikaela.

"(Y/N), how long have you...been in love with me?" He really needs an answer. It's important.

"I think..since that day that you touched me.."

Your hand moves to your cheek, the memory of it all rushing back. There was a light in his eyes that just struck you and nothing had been the same.

Bumblebee stands, and as he approaches, you kind of want to run. Not because you're scared, but the emotion that is revealed to you, it's so prominent, strong and almost raw. His hand reaches out, sliding against your cheek. You only manage one syllable before he claims your lips. A short sound leaves your lips, and his free hand secures around your waist, pulling you flush to his form. The sudden movement causes your hands to flatten on his chest. Your body is slowly but surely catching up with what's happening, and you grip at his shirt, letting out a moan.

"Bee.."

He doesn't relent. The eager kisses feel as though he's been deprived of the opportunity for centuries. Bumblebee's hold is firm, soft, loving. Your melting just by the sensations that travel through your body. He is pretty good at this. He slowly backs you up, and you fall ungracefully unto the bed. He barely processes it. Because his lips still have you captive. One of his hands press into the mattress, and the other links with your own, fingers entangled. This very moment, you pray that'll never end. He finally pulls back to regain his breath, and you're also fighting to get yours. You're both heaving, and you grin at him. He smiles back, pecking your lips.

"I'm really going to enjoy being human."

There's no doubt about that.

#bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #protectivebumblebee #love #feelings #cute #meetings #understanding #care #autobots #decepticons #optimus prime #ironhide #sam witwicky #mikaela #teens #friends #friendship #friends to lovers #highschool #fear #fights #hurt #acceptance

[ibijau]

Futures Past pt15 / on AO3

Nie Huaisang returns to the Unclean Realm after his failed year in Gusu

The Unclean Realm, usually a noisy place, had fallen nearly entirely silent as most of the disciples and quite a few servants gathered around its gate. They were all careful to keep a respectable distance from the gate in question, in case things went wrong, but still did their best to be close enough to get a good view. Not that it was particularly necessary to be near enough to hear what was happening. Nie Mingjue had a voice that carried, and it only got worse when he was angry at his brother.

Which he currently was, of course, and for good reason everyone thought. After all, Nie Huaisang had just returned from his time studying in the Cloud Recesses, though he’d apparently done little learning there.

But it wasn’t his failure to pass his exams that had his brother so upset. It was more the fact that on the way back home, Nie Huaisang had decided to leave on his own and disappeared for well over three weeks. The other Nie disciples travelling with him had just found a note on his bed one morning announcing that he didn’t feel like going home yet. They had panicked and sent an urgent message to their sect leader, who had also panicked and launched a search for his brother, in vain.

“You could have been kidnapped!” Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother, who had arrived that morning, looking as careless as if he’d just been gone for a shichen on an errand. “You could have been attacked by bandits! Did you even have your sabre with you?”

“Of course I did!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, patting the weapon at his waist. “What was I going to do, walk around?”

“It would have been safer than flying in your case! What if you’d fallen?”

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes. His cultivation had actually improved quite a bit while he was in the Cloud Recesses, if only because the Lans didn’t let him avoid training as much as his brother did. He was even quite close to forming a golden core, something he’d more or less given up on, and for which he hoped he’d get praised, whenever his brother calmed down enough to hear the news. So while he wasn’t the strongest of flyers, he was doing much better than he used to.

Not that Nie Mingjue was in any mood to hear that.

“I was careful, I swear,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “You’re always saying I should be more independent anyway!”

“Independent, not reckless! And who’s that?” Nie Mingjue roared, pointing at the person next to his brother.

That had been the question on everyone's mind since Nie Huaisang had arrived a little earlier, a boy much younger than himself walking at his side, but so far Nie Huaisang had avoided answering.

“Oh, that’s Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang cheerfully announced, patting the young boy’s shoulder. “I picked him up along the way. You should test him, I really think he’s going to be a great cultivator someday! Xue Yang, that’s my brother, say hi to him?”

Xue Yang threw Nie Mingjue a very unimpressed look, and gave a half-hearted bow.

“It's an honour to meet Nie zongzhu,” he said with some uncertainty, probably wishing he hadn't been so close while Nie Mingjue shouted at his brother like that.

“Huaisang, where did you find that child?” Nie Mingjue asked.

“It’s a long story,” his brother said.

Nie Mingjue nodded, and waited for the story in question to be told. Nie Huaisang just smiled at him.

“Are you going to tell me how you found him?” Nie Mingjue insisted when nothing more came.

“No. It’s a long story, but it’s not very interesting. He’s here now, though, so that can’t be helped.”

Hearing this, Nie Mingjue turned his attention to Xue Yang, as if hoping he might get an explanation there. The young boy just gave him a wicked smile.

“He said I’d get candies if I came,” Xue Yang said. “Am I gonna get them now or what?”

Nie Mingju’s eyes snapped back to his brother.

“Huaisang, did you steal a child by offering him treats? You realise how bad that looks?”

“It’s not stealing when it’s a person,” Nie Huaisang protested, nervously twisting his fingers for a moment before hiding his hands behind his back. “And I think children count as people, not things. Right?”

“Fine. Did you kidnap a child?”

A little embarrassed, Nie Huaisang hunched his shoulder and looked down at his feet without answering. A mistake, it turned out, because Xue Yang took that as his cue to explain things.

“It’s okay, I don’t have a family anyway,” Xue Yang announced. “He asked before taking me with him, to make sure I’m an orphan. And your brother’s nice. He took me to all those nice inns along the way, and every time he made sure I had food and a bath. He said the baths were very important.”

Nie Mingjue glared at his brother who winced because that could indeed be misunderstood. Which was exactly why Xue Yang had said it like that, he suspected. But really, Xue Yang had been in a pretty bad state when Nie Huaisang had picked him up. His hair was nearly stiff with dirty, he’d recently bled all over his clothes, and he had lice, and...

“Fine, I guess I’ll have to tell the story,” Nie Huaisang grumbled. He had already come up with a sanitised version of events that he could actually share with his brother, but it still annoyed him to not be trusted more. “So, I wanted to visit Kuizhou, you see? Everyone says the landscapes around it are so gorgeous, and so melancholic, and they are by the way. I want to go back to paint and write and…”

“Focus, Huaisang,” Nie Mingjue ordered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, right. So, I went there,” Nie Huaisang said, playing with the hem of his sleeve. “And I was visiting and stuff, and then I see a grown man punching and kicking a kid! Just because the kid had grabbed a few things from him!”

“Yeah, it was just his purse, and there wasn’t even that much money in it,” Xue Yang helpfully provided. “Well, and a few buns from his stall, and those apples from the stall next to his, and…”

“Shut it,” Nie Huaisang hissed, before returning his attention to his brother, a bright smile on his face. “So, you always say we have to defend the weak, and nobody’s weaker than a kid, so I went to check what was going on, right? And the man told me that kid is a terrible thief that’s plaguing their town, and he’s going to beat him up until all his bones are broken and he can never bother anyone else. But it’s just a kid!”

“Yeah, I’m just a kid!”

“Shut it! Anyway, I rescued the kid, because he really was in a bad state. And then I figured, well, how can someone that’s just a kid be such a good thief, right? So I checked and he’s got good dispositions for cultivation!”

It had been a lucky realisation, because he hadn’t known for sure that Xue Yang even was meant to become a cultivator, nor a talented one for that matter. In fact, the whole thing had been unbelievably lucky. Sure Nie Huaisang had spent three whole days searching everywhere for Xue Yang, but he’d been about ready to give up when he’d finally found him in roughly the exact way he'd described.

“The local sect are a bunch of pricks who didn’t want to take him in when I asked,” Nie Huaisang explained, as if he could ever have left Xue Yang into the care of strangers who might have failed to stop him from becoming evil. “So I brought him home. He’s going to be a great disciple!”

Having listened to that story with mounting annoyance, Nie Mingjue glared at his brother.

“Huaisang, that’s…”

“You always say people deserve a chance no matter their background!”

“Oh so you do listen when I talk sometimes?”

“He’s an orphan, and he’s talented, and someone has to do something, and we can’t send him back or else he might continue stealing maybe!”

“I’ll definitely continue stealing if you send me back,” Xue Yang promised with a smirk.

Nie Huaisang glared at him. Evil or not, Xue Yang knew how to be annoying.

He also knew how to be charming, though. He’d been absolutely delightful with a bunch of people they’d met on the way to Qinghe whenever he’d thought he could get something out of it. And it had worked, too. Xue Yang had obtained a lot of sweets from a lot of people, as well as some money here and there. And that was without mentioning the stuff he’d just outright stolen, sometimes from the very people generously sharing something with him. He was a little pest, all right.

But he was smart too, smart enough to understand what an incredible opportunity he’d been given. It would have been easy for Xue Yang to run away into the night, taking with him all of Nie Huaisang’s money. He was a skilled enough thief to manage it, especially once he’d realised that Nie Huaisang wasn’t a skilled enough cultivator to pursue him. But he hadn’t, because he’d been promised a chance of becoming a cultivator if Nie Huaisang could just convince his brother.

Of course, that was a pretty big 'if'.

A year earlier, Nie Huaisang would have been certain that he could convince his brother of anything. He’d never had any reason to doubt that, not until his future self had come into his life uninvited and whispered poison to him about Nie Mingjue having a bad opinion of him. And maybe he was right, that old prick. Nie Huaisang had messed up so badly in the Cloud Recesses, failing his classes in a way most people never did. He’d shamed his sect, his clan, his brother, and now he had the galls of asking for a huge favour, as if he had any right to…

“How old are you?” Nie Mingjue asked Xue Yang, who shrugged.

“Dunno. I think I’m older than nine, maybe, ‘cause I remember that bad drought we had one year. But old Cheng says I’m probably less than twelve, ‘cause I don’t have all my teeth yet.”

To prove his point, Xue Yang clenched his jaw and bared his teeth. He was indeed missing one canine on the left, while the right one was just starting to regrow. It made for a very odd smile, and yet Xue Yang knew how to use that to look cute sometimes.

Cuteness wouldn’t work on Nie Mingjue though. Years of dealing with Nie Huaisang had made him nearly immune to it.

"What did my idiot brother tell you to convince you to come all the way here from Kuizhou?" 

"He said I'd learn to be a cultivator, and people wouldn't beat me up ever again for stealing," Xue Yang recited. "And he said I'd have to learn to be good and stuff, because it's a second chance for an honest life, and I figured, well, it's better than the streets."

Nie Mingjue nodded, though he still looked severe enough that Nie Huaisang wasn’t sure yet of his victory. 

"We have a certain way of doing things in my sect, and dishonesty isn't allowed. And I'll need to check if you can be taught at all. Come closer and give me your hand." 

Xue Yang, impossibly cocky a moment before, suddenly hesitated and glanced at both Nie brothers before hiding his hands behind his back. 

"Which hand ?" 

"Either one, it makes no difference." 

"It might a bit," Xue Yang grumbled before reluctantly raising both hands. 

Nie Mingjue frowned when he noticed that one finger was missing, but Nie Huaisang took it to be an encouraging frown and finally relaxed. It expressed concern rather than anger, and that had to be a step in the right direction. 

"That looks old," Nie Mingjue noted, grabbing Xue Yang's left hand to inspect it. "Hm. That's not neat enough to have been cut off. What happened to you?" 

"Someone's cart ran over my hand on purpose," Xue Yang muttered, trying in vain to pull his hand free. "I was little. It's fine now, I swear!"

It was far from fine, actually. Xue Yang himself might not have realised it since he was used to it, but Nie Huaisang had noticed that the young boy favoured his right hand a lot more than was normal, even for a right-handed person. In another sect, that might have been a problem. But Qinghe Nie was more martial than most others, a little more reckless too, and they had their share of cultivators who'd had nasty accidents. 

A missing finger in a stiff hand wasn't so bad compared to some people. 

"We'll have to get you a light sabre," Nie Mingjue said, mostly to himself after a quick check of the boy’s meridians. "Something you can use one-handed, like Huaisang. And I'll ask our doctor to have a look at it. It looks painful." 

"No, it's fine, I don't feel pain anymore," Xue Yang proudly announced as he pulled his hand free. "Trained myself out of it, mostly."

"You are definitely going to see Zhilan," Nie Mingjue replied, frowning harder. "Huaisang’s right, you do have potential, so we'll train you.” He turned toward their audience of disciples, and gestured for one man to walk closer. “Zonghui! Come and give that kid a tour, and a meal. When he's eaten, take him to see Zhilan, and have a bed prepared for him."

“I’m in?” Xue Yang asked, so startled that for once, he really did look his age.

He glanced at Nie Huaisang who grinned at him and nodded, then turned his eyes back to Nie Mingjue who nodded as well.

“You’re in. Go with Nie Zonghui, he’ll explain everything you need to know about being part of this sect.”

With surprising obedience that had to be a side effect of surprise, Xue Yang trotted away with Nie Mingjue’s first disciple. Nie Huaisang tried to follow, equal parts curious and worried about what might happen next if he lost sight of Xue Yang. He hadn’t taken two steps before Nie Mingjue grabbed him by the collar to stop him.

“And where are you going?”

Nie Huaisang pointed toward Xue Yang. His brother gave him a pointed look, and started dragging him in another direction, leaving him no choice but to follow or be strangled.

“I’m tired,” Nie Huaisang complained. Then, noticing that they appeared to be going toward the training grounds, he struggled against his brother’s grasp. “Wait, da-ge, I’m really tired, I mean it! We’ve had to walk so long, you know! We’ve only been able to hitch a ride on carts for some of the way, so I can’t feel my legs anymore for how much walking I’ve done lately.”

“If you’d come home directly from the Cloud Recesses, you’d have ridden in a carriage,” Nie Mingjue retorted without an ounce of pity. “Now let’s see if you’ve made any progress with your sabre, aside from using it to run away. We’re going to spar together.”

“I can’t, I’m so tired!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I’m going to die if I have to move! And you’re so much stronger than me, there’s no point in training together, the difference is too great! Da-ge, have some mercy, let me eat something first! Let me rest! And I need to change clothes too, and I really should check how my birds are, and…”

“Shut up you brat! This is your punishment for getting me so worried!” Nie Mingjue snapped, pushing his brother onto the softer soil of the training ground. “Do your warm-ups!”

“But I’m starving, da-ge!”

“That’s your own fault for running away!” Nie Mingjue replied, showing yet again he was the most cruel person in the entire world.

And yet as soon as Nie Huaisang started stretching in preparation for a friendly fight, Nie Mingjue asked a disciple to go ask the kitchens if they might send some fresh buns and a little tea that way. Aggravated as he was that his brother only cared about checking his cultivation and martial art progress, Nie Huaisang couldn’t help but smile.

After everything his older self had said about Nie Mingjue really despising him, he’d been worried that his brother would indeed be furious at him for everything he’d done, from failing his classes to forcing him to take in a miscreant. But no matter how shouty and frowny he currently was, it was clear to anyone who knew him, as his brother did, that Nie Mingjue was worried-angry rather than angry-angry.

Nie Huaisang had gambled and won, thus proving to himself that he definitely knew his brother better than his older self did.

#xisang #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #xue yang #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #double time travel #this was almost a much longer chapter but I figured the next visit of future nhs could be posted on its own next week

[missskzbiased]

Betting Big

Summary: As the one and only Seo Changbin, you would never think that you would be willing to pay for someone to go out with you. At least not until you met her. To be honest, not even after you met her but here you were now… Agreeing with splitting the money from a bet that you never made… And all this for what? Just to get a chance to make her fall for you

WC: 1,5 K

Genre: Romance, Fluff

AUs: High School, Fake Bet

Pairing: Seo Changbin X Fem! Reader X ???

Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   // Tag List

Warnings: none

Notes: This is in “Changbin’s POV” although written as Self-insert

This is going to be a miniseries, I guess. I’m not sure how many chapters I want to make. I’d like if you guys could vote on this:

Minho as BFF to lovers for the Triangle

Han as Friends to lovers for the Triangle

No Love Triangle at all

                                                        ///

     Everyone but you wanted to be the popular guy.

     Not because you were above things like wanting to fit on the wild battlefield that high school was or because you didn’t need people’s approval to feel like a whole person, and even less because you hated being under everyone’s eyes… No. You were petty enough to admit that you loved the attention. The reason why you weren’t like everybody else was that you were the popular guy that everyone wanted to be. That’s right… You were what every single one of those kids wanted to become and you didn’t need to do anything to have your way.

     At least, that was what you believed exactly thirty seconds ago.

     The silent pause following your invitation wasn’t expected, and neither was the way her judgmental eyes scanned you from head to toes. There was this foreign feeling of being embarrassed, and that sudden urge to shrink and hide from the crowd that you didn’t allow to show on the surface. You were too cool for this. So you settled for clearing your throat, leaning on her table in what you hoped to be a flirty way, and glanced at your friends’ table in search of some sort of silent moral support that you were so in need of right now.

     You could say that you weren’t the most subtle human being in the world or else her eyes wouldn’t have snapped right to where you were looking at. As the bunch of overly stealthy people that you definitely were used to be with popularity clogging your better judgment, the four of your friends stared right into her eyes; the expression of a deer caught in headlights plastered over their face. If you had any hopes of not humiliating yourself to that strange girl in the corner ─ who you happened to have a big, fat crush on for at least one year now ─, they were immediately crushed by your own best friends.

     Very well.

     At least, it couldn’t get any worse than this, right?

     Then you learned the valuable lesson of not speaking too soon.

     “You want to go out with me?” That wasn’t the kind of incredulous tone that was meant to hide one’s excitement… It was more like that bewildered contempt that one cannot hide at all.

    She couldn’t even process the fact that you were bold enough to believe that the mere thought of dating you could ever have crossed her mind… And once more, the humiliation hit you like cold water coming directly from an angry, merciless waterfall. Was that how normal people felt in their daily lives? Jeez… It was so much better to be popular! How do those kids even handle that? Definitely not the life for you.  

     Your internal rambling had you missing the slow shift on her expression; rejection dissolving to give way to some kind of resigned interest: “How much?” She spoke up in curious confidence, and you must have been too lost on your thoughts because you had no idea of what she was talking about.

     “Excuse me?” You blurted out ever so eloquently.

     “How much is into this bet?” She asked as if it was the most reasonable thing in this world, and the lack of response had her scoffing, to further prove your point, “Really? You expect me to believe that the most popular guy in school would come all the way to my table, conveniently under his friends’ eyes, just to ask me out on a date with no second intention?” She raised her brows amusedly, chuckling at what seemed to be the best joke she had ever told anyone “Right” She huffed, crossing her arms and tilting her head to take a better look at you.

     That was the moment of the truth.

      You could either tell her that she misunderstood everything and explain how much you really liked her ─ which would put everything at risk because she clearly didn’t believe you could like someone like her ─ or you could play along with it and score a chance to win her heart on a date.

     The answer seemed to be pretty obvious to you.

     “Yeah, right” You laughed dismissively, pulling out the chair so you could sit down beside her. There was no sign of resistance in her face; moreover, there was a shimmering curiosity dancing in her expectant eyes, “You totally caught me…” You admitted grudgingly, shrugging to show her how much you didn’t care about it. Fun Fact: You actually did! And you would very much appreciate her to know that… Damn it! What the hell were you getting yourself into?! “So… Should we split it?” You suggested nonchalantly ─ just like the smooth son of a bitch you were.

     “What about fifty-fifty?” She proposed shamelessly; face twisting in a funny expression that tried to say that she didn’t care about it either but giving it away that she did, “How much is in for me? Like… A hundred bucks or something?” She leaned back on her chair before shrugging, not willing to admit that she was interested in this.

     “You’re good” You chuckled while nodding in agreement; mimicking her as you leaned back on your chair, “Sounds great, right? Getting a hundred bucks to date this hot stuff here?” You grinned as you gestured at yourself, getting nothing but an unimpressed look from her.

     “Look, Changbin…” She began hesitantly “If we’re going to make this work, it might be better for you to let me do the talking, okay?” She smiled sarcastically, looking at you with a mix of… You weren’t even sure what. Was constipation considered a feeling? If so, she looked constipated by your existence, “I’m not gonna lie… I want the money, and as long as we don’t have to do anything stupid like kissing or having sex, I think I’m in” She simply agreed while looking into your eyes.

      She had such pretty eyes… The most beautiful eyes you have ever seen… The type of eyes to hold so many emotions that you couldn’t help but wonder if those would ever be directed at you. Right now, you could see they were. However, the usually captivating trait wasn’t that heartwarming now… Not when there was nothing but pained resignation in them… Not when they made so damn obvious that she didn’t like you back… Not when they shift to sheer excitement to the sound of someone else’s voice.

     “Hey” Was the single word that brought her to such a state of happiness; eyes twinkling and a genuine smile cracking on her face as she looked to the guy talking to her “What’s this?” He asked while gesturing to the both of you before squinting his eyes in suspicion “This table has always been our, shortie, fuck off” He scoffed; sitting down as if it didn’t even cross his mind that you could stand up against him.

     “Short—?!”

     “Shut up, Minho” She rolled her eyes, even though you could see the amusement in them, “He’s here to ask me out on a date” She clarified nonchalantly; eyes attentive to his reaction.

     “Of course he is” He snorted, shaking his head in disbelief while poking his food.

     “I am” You stated seriously while boldly offering him The Look, “Is that a problem?” You arched your brow in a silent challenge.

     “I don’t know…” He dropped his fork; eyes connecting to yours with such a murderer intention that for a second you considered just playing it off as a joke “Is that a problem?” He asked back, studying your face.

     Thank Lord you were a proud Leo or else the “No, Sir” on the tip of your tongue would have slipped just like that from your mouth. Instead, you just returned his glare, choosing to be silent so you would not show him how much he scared the shit out of you. The silent battle was promptly cut off by the damsel in distress herself, a not-so-subtle kick under the table that had Minho wincing on his seat.

     “No, that’s not a problem” She stated firmly enough to end the discussion “I’m going out with him” Even though you were aware of that, it still made your stomach flutter.

     “Okay” He said bitterly; lips twitching slightly “So that’s not a problem” He forced a smile, picking his fork and scrambling his food mindlessly.

     “Great!” You offered her a bright smile, too excited to hide your true feelings.

     “Great” She stated monotonously “So… See you later?” She arched her brows as if to say that it was time for you to walk away.

      “Of course” You agreed promptly “I can walk you home later… So… We can arrange the details” You suggested hopefully, and she seemed to embrace the idea.

      “Sounds like a date” She smiled.

     “Yeah” You chuckled; rubbing your arm before waving at her and heading to your friends’ table.

     Well… Getting a date: Checked.

     Having your feelings reciprocicated: Hm… On progress?

     First confession meeting any of your expectations: Hell no...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rebloggable Masterlist    //   Main Masterlist   // Tag List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#skz fanfic #skz x reader #changbin x reader #skz fluff #districtninewriters #changbin fluff #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #seo changbin fanfic #changbin fanfic #seo changbin x reader #changbin scenarios #changbin imagines

[mrslittletall]

How about 9 & 25 with PK? :)

Title: Too stubborn for his own good Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King/The White Lady Word Count: 1.033 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34078060

Summary: The Pale King has been in his work shop for far too long. The White Lady is concerned.

(Author's note: I decided to go with sick at work for PK, because it felt super super fitting for him. This one isn't set during Off Balance, but more during a general time pre canon, that is why they don't use their names.)

Prompt 25. Sick at school/work

@sicktember

He had barely come out of his workshop for almost two days now.

The White Lady knew that when her husband got obsessed over a project, he wouldn’t pay attention to the passing of time. However, he at least normally would listen to her when she asked him to eat something and not resist when she used some sleeping spores to finally get him to rest.

When she had it tried yesterday, he had downright hissed at her, taken her aback. It had been centuries since the two of them had threatened each other.

The few times he left his workshop, he normally wouldn’t stay away long and often come back with a fresh cup of coffee. That meant that he pretty much ran on no sleep, no food and probably fourteen cups of coffee now.

Needless to say the White Lady was starting to get very concerned, waiting for him to leave the workshop again, so that she could confront him. This time she wouldn’t let herself be stunned by any signs of aggression from his side. She would make sure that he finally rested.

She knew why he was stuck in his workshop. A new infection had started to appear in Hallownest. The both of them immediately recognized it as the doing of the Radiance, the god of the dream realm, which supposedly had gotten forgotten. The Radiance seemed to think otherwise though and in an attempt to get herself remembered by the mortal bugs, the infection had sprung forth.

The White Lady and the Pale King had discussed the matter right away and in the end, he had decided that a god of light would best be stopped by void and that was why he had locked himself away for most of the last two days.

He was experimenting with the void and forgot everything around it.

It was a very unhealthy way to live.

She knew though, that he wouldn’t stop until he would basically collapse and that was the reason why she waited for him to leave the workshop, so she could confront him.

Only that he hadn't left the workshop for hours. Surely he had to take a break somewhen? Or at least get a new cup of coffee?

As a tree, the White Lady was a very patient being, but when it came to the health of her husband, her patience ran thin and so she decided to not wait anymore and to enter the workshop. Even though that meant she had to destroy the door because it was locked from the other side.

The moment the door flung open after she concentrated a spell on it, she had expected for her husband to turn around with a bewildered look and scold her for not respecting his boundaries. Instead, he was sitting at his desk, not noticing her at all. She immediately knew that something was wrong, because he was moving slow and sluggish.

She should have confronted him much sooner. He looked horrible. His light was dull, his wings drooped and there were several dark stains splattered on his robe, she couldn’t say if it was void or coffee.

“My wyrm!”, she said, firm and asserting, “It’s time that you take a break.”

It was the first time he acknowledged her after entering. He didn’t even look back, all he did was murmur.

“Root… I can’t… not yet… I am close to a breakthrough… can’t stop… “

The White Lady moved closer to his desk and slammed a branch on its surface. “Wyrm, it’s enough! You haven’t eaten anything in over a day, you haven’t slept for almost two days, I haven’t seen you filling up your soul reserves, all I have seen is that you drink coffee. Fourteen cups by the way, I have counted! You are running on caffeine and still you don’t fidget or tremble! You are beyond exhausted and you need to go to bed!”

The Pale King was rather unimpressed at her outburst. “Root… let’s talk about this… later… I am so… close…”

He hadn’t even listened to what she had said. The White Lady let out a deep sigh. “I really didn’t want to do this.”, she said. “But you leave me no choice.”

In his sleep deprived condition he couldn’t defend himself against her attack. The moment it hit and he got staggered, she snatched him and wrapped him in several of her vines.

“Root… let me go… what are you doing…”

His voice sounded weak and strained and she barely could feel him struggling to break free.

“I am getting you into bed. Look, my Wyrm, I know the situation is dire, but it won’t get better when you work yourself to exhaustion.”

The Pale King went limp in her grip. For a good while neither of them was saying anything while she carried him to his chambers. Once she had stuffed him into his bed, she searched for the flow of his soul and found it to be dangerously low. While she started to share her soul with him, he started to speak again.

“Root… what have I done… the last few hours. I feel like I was in a haze…”

“Well, you worked for almost two days straight in your workshop, didn’t eat anything, didn’t sleep and had fourteen cups of coffee. I had to drag you away so that you would finally take a break.”, she replied, her voice trembling, she didn’t know if it was because of worry or anger. A mix of both probably.

The Pale King just looked at her for a long time and then murmured: “My apologies.”

“Just promise me one thing.”, the White Lady said. “At least eat one meal per day. And sleep at least one or two hours each day. You are not like me, my Wyrm, you can’t just survive on water and earth. And even I need some sleep. Just… don’t make me worry like this about you.”

He looked at her for a long while before he took one of her branches into his claws and very quietly, barely more than a whisper, said: “I promise.” (Author's note: PK destroying himself by not taking a break, hmmm, good stuff. I had fun writing this. Also, any normal person would be dead drinking fourteen cups of PK's coffee, they are basically double espressos with a shot of espresso.

This was the ninth fill of the sicktember prompts! Three more to go! I am so excited that we almost came to an end!)

#sicktember 2021 #prompt 25: sick at school/work #hollow knight #fanfiction #the pale king #the white lady #wyrmroot #sickfic #prompt fill #request fill #overworking #exhaustion #stress #sick!pk #caregiver!wl #littlewritesstuff

[allaboardtheussharringrove]

So @billy-baby mentioned That 70’s Show and Harringrove, and it reminded me of a *whole ass* set of hc’s about a 70’s/Stranger Things AU that has been sitting in my notes for literal years collecting dust, so here it is:

-Billy & Hyde would be besties, probably neighbours in the same shitty neighbourhood

-They headbang to hard rock and metal, jam to 60’s & 70’s rock while drinking TONS of beer and hotboxing the Camaro and El Camino, respectively

-Bands they’d have in common: AC/DC, Black Sabbath & Ozzy Osbourne, Scorpions, KISS, Judas Priest, Van Halen, and Led Zeppelin just to name a couple

-Hyde always gives Billy shit for like, never wearing a shirt, Billy gives Hyde shit for his ever-present sunglasses & sideburns

-They know each other’s parental problems, and take refuge in the Forman’s basement/the empty Harrington house (yes, we’re talkin’ a Hawkins, Indiana/Point Place, Wisconsin mashup here)

-Billy still has a major crush on Steve (Harrington that is, Steven Hyde will only be referred to as Hyde [and that possible name mix-up could cause some hilarity whenever anyone calls out “Steven”, and some embarrassing rumour drama for Billy, Steve, & Hyde (or omg a block party at the Formans where Kitty calls out “William! Steven! Michael!” And she turns around and has Billy, Will, Hyde, Steve, Mike, and Kelso starting at her expectantly)])

-Billy probably also thinks Eric and Kelso are kinda cute, but total dumbasses, they both definitely annoy him

-Fez would have a totally awkward and hilarious crush on Billy, and you just know Billy would flirt with him on purpose just to make him nervous (this might make Steve a lil jealous and annoy him to no end)

-Jackie would have the BIGGEST crush on Steve, after Kelso, and drag him around to go shopping and shit, he would tolerate it but Billy would absolutely hate her as a “bitchy rich entitled snot-nosed brat” cause she would be vocal about him being poor and he’d have to be calmed down by Hyde and Steve all the time

-Billy would give Hyde an unimaginable amount of shit for going out with Jackie, hooo boy!

-Steve would get a kick outta Kelso, but I think he and Eric would be pretty close friends, with Steve always pushing to hang around at the Forman’s cause Eric’s parents are always present, as opposed to his empty house (he adores Kitty Forman for SURE as the mother he never had)

-But the gang would surely hold parties at the Harrington’s....and only sometimes get away with it (both these groups are known for their KEGS! and the 70’s teens would lose their damn minds over Keg Kings Billy & Steve)

-Billy would put the charm on for Kitty sometimes just to see her blush, and Red would get annoyed and just a little threatening saying something like “Like to see how charming you are with my foot up your ass” and Billy being the abused kid that he is automatically takes it a little too seriously- probably flinches, goes a little pale, stutters out a “Yes sir, sorry sir”

-This would make Kitty and Red a bit concerned, pay a visit to the Hargrove household- I wouldn’t be surprised if they experience Neil putting Billy down or catch a glimpse of a smack or something and they would for sure take action with Red intimidating Neil cause you know he could

-Anyway! Girls. Robin and Donna would be THE BEST FRIENDS EVER, cause Donna had no other cool girl friend to hang out with and you just KNOW Robin might have an “itsy bitsy” (huge) crush on Donna, cause she’s Hot Donna, also they’re both super into female empowerment (and honestly, when Donna/Eric break up I could see her maybe falling for Robin too)

-Donna and Billy would be buds, she might like him for a hot minute but be cool with him being gay (Out of everyone in the 70’s gang, I think he’d most likely share this with her - cause she’d probably figure it out - even if it’s just to gush about their dumb, brave, pretty brunette boys to each other)

-Max would LOVE Donna, not just because of the hair (but also redhead solidarity is important), but because they’re both badasses and would totally vibe together- Max, Billy, and Donna would be an unexpectedly fun trio (and Billy would complain about having to drive the “GingeTwins” around all the time or something to that effect)

-And Jackie having to babysit Erica (because Donna does it sometimes, but she’s out for the night) would be the best thing ever good lord, Erica would put Jackie in her place, but they’d probably make up some schemes together too

-Also Erica would be absolutely appalled at having a similar name to Eric, she’d probably call him something along the lines of “Supreme Nerd” or “King of the Nerds” and have an endless supply of unimpressed looks for him during their debates of whose name is better

-Eric would totally join Mike, Will, Lucas & Dustin in their nerd exploits (STAR WARS!) And he and Dustin would get into loooong nerd debates

-I think Kelso would join Dustin & Lucas (and maybe the other boys too) in doing mischievous experiments including but not limited to: pyrotechnics, wrist rockets, radios and electronics... He’d begrudgingly listen to the scientific explanations of the boys (which would all fly right over his head) and they would have a moderate success rate, but also have to run away from the trouble they’d get in

-Lucas and Hyde would always be cool, but after finding out about Hyde’s biological dad they could become closer (Hyde’s dad and Lucas would have the best banter)

-Will and Eric would geek out over comics, and I think Eric would be super nice/supportive about seeing Will’s drawings

-Jonathan would be pretty quiet at first, but might talk to Fez since they’re both kinda the odd man out in each group (and he’d be genuinely NICE to Fez, *side eyes 70’s teens*)- then he’d be roped into doing random/stupid/mildly illegal stuff with the gang

-And despite Billy & Hyde being besties, I think Jonathan would bond with Hyde over shitty dads (plus I think Hyde would love Joyce, and she’d be another offer of refuge for him & Billy) and WEED WEED WEED

-Actually that might definitely be a sub-trio: Jonathan, Billy, & Hyde- they’d all have each other’s backs when it came to family drama (and later on when Hyde gets his record store, he’d offer them both jobs and Jonathan would be over the fuckin’ moon and work there)

-Billy would for sure work for Red in his muffler shop, and Red would take him under his wing, probably unwittingly become the father figure Billy never had.

-Nancy, hmmm, well she’s on the richer side of town so her and Jackie might be friends? but she’d for sure get annoyed with Jackie’s shallow bullshit

-OH and Robin would also hate Jackie I think, ‘cause of her entitlement and relentless obsession with boys (poor Jackie, I’m not setting her up for anything great here huh)

-So that’d be why Steve is friends with her, if only ‘cause he feels bad when she alienates herself from the rest of the teens, they (and I hate to say this) *could possibly* date for like 5 minutes, it’d be a REALLY hard time for Billy...and Kelso. And those two would probably come up with some hairbrained scheme to break them up (and succeed, but each get ripped a new one because of it)

-But at least the group of teen girls would be bigger if Donna, Robin, Jackie, and Nancy all hung out together sometimes (and if they tried to have a sleepover or something there would be toooo many idiot boys trying to creep on them, I think Billy would be the voice of reason and tell them they’re all being dickheads)

-And he’d give Fez a fuck ton of shit for being such a voyeuristic creep, probably make him stop hiding in people closets (wait what? Fez is like constantly coming out of closets in that show?! hello?? is that a thing??? Oh ho-ho they’d have a whole talk about that)

-Steve would get a kick outta Fez, probably think he was the funniest dude on the planet, as I’d say they’re the goofballs of the group (and yes, I am mostly excluding the King Steve narrative from this and using only cool mom Steve, cool? cool.)

-Steve might also have a lil crush on Donna, (‘cause a strong personality and blue eyes is like his kink, we all know this) but Eric would throw a fit about that and then they’d be all buddy-buddy discussing Donna & Billy (I think Eric being kind of a dumbass about his own gay kiss might put Steve off for a bit [and make Billy super hesitant and real pissed], but I also think Eric would be cool with hearing Steve out about his big bisexuality-discovery-adventure)

-Donna and Eric trying set Steve and Billy up by saying they’re all gonna hang out, and then like locking Billy/Steve in a room together or something and leaving😈

-When Billy/Steve’s relationship comes out, Hyde’s reaction is probably “That’s cool, man” Kelso would make some corny statement about how hot *he* is, Fez would probably fangirl over it with big ole heart eyes, Jackie would be like “weird, whatever”, Kitty would get flustered and then overly excited about it after a while, Red would be uncomfortable but okay with it saying something like “I better not catch you two dumbasses doing anything in my house”

-Ohmygod, Red as a father figure to Billy, Kitty as a mother figure to Steve, and they end up being so supportive of the boys ‘cause they have to put up with so much parental shit (say what you want, but the Formans have compassion) and they convert their house/backyard into a little private prom for the whole gang just so Billy/Steve can dance together and be themselves

-Billy, Steve, and Robin would die laughing every time they saw/talked to Leo. And I feel like Robin would talk her way into a job at the Photo Hut and then just end up being the manager and hires Jonathan herself to do the developments

-And you know how Hyde is always punching Kelso in the arm? Well he’d always get one, and Billy would punch the other arm as he’d classify Kelso a special kind of idiot, they’d always be teasing Kelso together, but Billy (and Steve I’m sure) would have some wicked BURNS that Kelso would love

-Steve and Kelso as friends? Sure, pretty boys gotta stick together~ especially when Steve gets called that by Billy, and then Kelso insists he’s a prettier boy, and Billy either rolls his eyes or flirts aggressively cause Kelso doesn’t understand WHY that’s Steve’s nickname, and it’s a whole can of worms you guys

-(And I didn’t forget about El, I’m just not quite sure where she fits in this AU... she probably doesn’t have powers and is the new kid who moves into town cause of a bad home life, she’d befriend Max in school and then I think Donna would take her under wing, then she’d be a hit with the teen gang cause she’d break her quietness with witty comments/one-liners, and since she’s very intuitive still, she gravitates towards Billy & Hyde and there would be some touching heart-to-hearts about shitty parental situations followed immediately after by inappropriate offers of beer to which she responds with a firm “gross”)

-And finally, *the Circle* would be so much bigger and funnier with the Stranger Teens in it

#harringrove #that 70’s show #stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #steven hyde #donna pinciotti #eric forman #robin buckley #jackie burkhart #michael kelso #fez #johnathan byers #nancy wheeler #Stranger 70’s Things #no upside down tho just teen sitcom #ahhhh my hc’s these are just my brain rambles so like do with them what you will 🤷‍♀️ #I really love both these shows so #in high school kids always said I was like donna lmao❤️ #long post #😬 #oh! and someone be nice to Jackie for me? I dunno how I could not get her into a good spot among the gang🤔 #excessive use of parentheses