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alphabetboyluvr · 9 months

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landslides - 001 | goldrush - jjk

part title credit: goldrush - taylor swift

everybody wonders what it would be like to love you... i can't dare to dream about you anymore... it never will be...

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers)

premise: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn't ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he's yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being 'you' to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do.

warnings: fluff more than angst, but it's not clean cut - there's also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you've been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

wordcount: 6.8K

note from holly: so... i dogsat (? idk if thats a word) for my friend last chuseok and this was the result hahahaha. my friends dog (boba <3) is so tiny and small!! but i've always been a big dog girlie so bam was fun to write. i really love this one and have recently found all of my old notes from around that time detailing the rest of the couples lives, so pt. 2 is in progress.

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

Bam notices the storm roll in before you do. His ears twitch, head lifting from its rested perch on his paws.

“What’s up, baby? Hey?” You coo, his sudden shift obviously prompted by something. His snout begins to twitch, too, and his bottom lip shakes as a small growl vibrates from his throat. His eyes are on the window, stalking the clouds as they roll past. “Hey.”

You sit up a little straighter to lean forward and scratch behind his ear. He leans into it, but doesn’t take his eyes away from the sky.

“You see the rain, huh?” You hum, looking between the pup and the window ahead. You can’t place it yet - it’s too far in the distance - but you find yourself coming to sit beside him. He doesn’t lean up against you like he usually does. Just continues to lightly growl.

There’s no threat behind his noises, no malice - he’s just shouting back at the thunder you can’t hear. When you see a bolt of lightning flash in the distance just beyond the city skyline, you know that it won’t be long until Jungkook’s apartment block is drenched in the weather.

It’s just gone midnight when he calls. His face is a little puffy, smile a little lopsided.

“Hey Bammie,” he coos into the camera. You’ve got it angled down to where the pup is resting his head on your knee, peacefully unwinding after his long walk. Bam doesn’t stir at Jungkook’s voice, so he tries again. “Bammie?”

The way he elongates his puppy’s name is sweet - a tone of voice reserved only for his most trusted companion. He sure as hell has never spoken to you like that.

“Sorry, bud,” you say as you lift the camera up to your face. He’s pouting. “I don’t think the vibrations sound the same through the phone.”

“I miss him,” he says not even caring to acknowledge your thought process. “Is he okay? Was he good on his walk?”

“He’s all good,” you smile. “Best boy in the world. None of the other dogs you mentioned were down at the park, so it was just us two.”

He nods into the camera and purses his lips. “They might all be away. Visiting family.” He rolls over in his bed and lets out a yawn. “How’s the apartment? Got everything you need?”

You nod back. “All good. Might have eaten my way through your cheese stash already. I’m gonna shower then head to bed in a minute.”

“Make sure you leave the bathroom door open a little,” he says. “He’ll whine if not.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I really appreciate you doing this. He hasn’t been too much work, has he?”

“He’s good as gold,” you say as you switch to the back camera. The view is serene, and Jungkook’s lips instantly settle into a smile. Bam is up on the sofa with you, snuggled against your lap. The skyline twinkles through his window, the reflection of his mood lamp obscuring some of it - but he’s quietly pleased that you’re using it. It’s how he normally winds down, too. Main lights off, galaxy on his ceiling. Must make Bam feel a little more at ease. You go to scratch behind his ear, and he huffs a little, all content and cosy. “Thanks for asking. He’s never too much work. You trained him well.”

“Hmm,” Jungkook hums. “Could have trained you a little better, though.”

He laughs when you switch the camera back to your face, mouth open, brows knitted together. “Me?!”

“Yes, you,” he grins now but tries to hide it; to restore the stoicism to his face. It doesn’t work. “What did I tell you about the sofas?”

You purse your lips together as if you’re not smiling. He’s got you there, admittedly.

“Look, he’s just so cute!” Despite the fact you’ve turned the camera back onto Bam, Jungkook can tell you’re pouting. “How could I say no?!”

“Easily!” Jungkook laughs. “That’s how he became so well trained! I leave for one night and-”

“Shuuuush,” you laugh, and when the camera switches back to you, Jungkook can’t help but let his smile persist. You look tired, and so does he, but there’s something about the call that has made you forget all about the fact you were planning on going to bed soon. “My swamp now. My rules.”

“My swamp,” he protests, but the look on his face is so saccharine that you can’t take him seriously. He thinks the same could be said for you. “Anyways, it’s late. Go get your shower. If you need more towels, there are some in the cupboard by the boiler. Don’t forget to turn the vent on - it’s the switch next to the light.”

“Alright, will do,” you nod and then yawn. Bam pricks his head up. “Hey baby,” you speak to him. “Did I wake you?”

“Show me him.”

You switch the camera around to where you’re scratching at Bam’s ear. He leans his head into the scratch, thoroughly enjoying it, your long nails far scratchier than Jungkook’s. It’s not the same - Jungkook is far stronger, so is a little rougher which suits Bam just fine. Still, he likes your scratches better than no scratches at all.

Jungkook whines. “I miss him.”

“He misses you, too. Want me to call in the morning?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “We’re up early tomorrow, heading over to Haedong Yonggungsa in the morning. Probably be up before you. Send me pictures though.”

“Will do. Night, buddy.”

“Night gremlin,” he smiles, and then begins to coo. “Night Bammie. Daddy misses you.”

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him in the way that you do when he says that; lips turned upwards at the very corners, dimples pressing into your cheeks, eyes bright.

“Shut up,” he says, but you’re already laughing.

“Daddy.”

“I am his dad!”

“Daddy.”

“Oh my god, fuck off,” he laughs. “Have nightmares, gremlin.”

“Sweet dreams, Daddy.”

“Fuck off!”

You hang up before he can protest your taunts any more, though he does text you one final ‘fuck off,’ and a reminder that you can bolt his front door if it will make you feel safer.

His apartment is in a high-rise, and his neighbourhood is far nicer than yours. You do the bolt up regardless, and think that it’s sweet that he considered your comfort enough to remind you about it.

Bam sits by the sliding door of the bathroom, the tips of his paws just teetering over the line of the door frame. He rests his head on his legs, snout angled towards the hallway. It still makes you feel a little weird. You don’t really want a dog watching you shower, even if he is a dog and has no real understanding of what’s happening - so you turn your back to him and just reassure yourself that Jungkook showers with the door open wide.

It’s a funny thing, to think about your co-worker’s showering habits. Not one that you’ve ever thought to indulge in before - but Jungkook would go ballistic if he heard you refer to him as your ‘co-worker.’ You’re friends. Pretty good ones, at that.

You’re level players at your company; earn the same wage, hold the same rank. There’s not really any competition between the pair of you - you work in different departments - but are often paired together when the two sections merge for joint projects. You make for a good team.

Over the years, you and Jungkook have also learned that you’re a highly capable team when it comes to playing beer pong against your colleagues on Friday nights, and at the mixed-doubles tennis tournament that your company insists on you participating in every year. It’s either that or be on the Christmas Party Planning committee, and you know which you’d rather do.

Thinking about tinsel in August? No, thank you.

There is however one crucial flaw to your partnerships: how you live your lives. How you manage your money.

See, Jungkook is frugal. He makes big investments - his apartment, his cars, games consoles, Bam. Doesn’t spunk his cash away on the small shit. His apartment is in the heart of the city, only a few floors from the very top. He gets a birds-eye view of the world around him. You don’t even want to imagine how much his deposit cost.

Probably more than you have in your savings. You do spunk your cash away - on the small shit, no less. Clothes, cafes, that sort of stuff. Nothing that holds permanence. It frustrates Jungkook to no end. He thinks you could have a better life if you just used your money wisely - but you’re happy in your slightly cramped apartment, happy when the serotonin of a shopping spree boosts your mood, happy when you’re laughing with your friends over coffee and cake.

You wouldn’t be happy if you felt restricted. You think that Jungkook is.

He disagrees. He has enough in the bank to buy whatever he wants. He has financial freedom.

But there’s a difference. You’re both free in your own ways.

It’s for that reason you’d never work as a couple. Would infuriate one another far too much. Everyone who is close to you both knows this; how badly suited you would be. They’ll joke about all of the women in the office trying to get their mitts on Jungkook - even the married ones - but not you.

It’s funny because they’re right. Everybody wants him.

He collects stars from their eyes and accumulates them in his own. The girls blush and giggle about how he looks at them with galaxies, but they don’t realise what a thief he is. Don’t realise he’s stolen their shine, and incorporated it into his own. A spotlight follows him, and you enjoy watching the show unfold with an amused grin whenever a new secretary catches his gaze for the first time.

It’s not intentional. You don’t think Jungkook realises he does it. In fact, he hadn’t realised that it was such a pattern of behaviour until the midnight squalor of a dive bar had you talking about office conquests, and how the photocopier room had seen his bare ass more than it had seen toner changes.

“Shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon,” you’d grinned.

“Firstly, that’s a horrible phrase - and secondly, it takes two to tango. They’re just as much to blame as I am.”

But they’re not. He’s the only repeat offender.

“And anyways,” he had deflected, sinking down the final dregs of his beer. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint. Everyone’s fucked a colleague at least once.”

You’d just raised an eyebrow.

“You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Like I said - shouldn’t shit where you eat, Jeon.”

Now, if he’d have said housemate, you would have folded. Downed your drink. Ordered a repeat round.

Something about a shared space - domestication - really gets you. It’s joint laundry loads, shared dinners, movie nights; grocery shopping, D.I.Y. furniture, arguments about who gets the bigger room. More often than not, it never matters, ‘cause you just end up staying in theirs.

You live alone now. After the third time, you knew better than to let yourself fall into the trap once more.

He learns about your affliction a few months later, and goes on tease you relentlessly.

In fact, he mentions it when he propositions you a few weeks before Chuseok. You had both spent the last couple of holiday periods overworked, slogging through the festivities. For the first time since either of you can remember, your workload has eased up.

You’ve already told him you’re planning on doing sweet, sweet fuck all. You’ve told your family you will be working, because you just want to finally breathe for a while; stay in with a tub of ice cream and your favourite films. Speak to no one. Do nothing.

“I’ve got a favour to ask you,” he had said as he approached your desk before the end of the day. It was a Friday, but you weren’t heading for after-work drinks with the usual suspects like you typically did. You had a date, instead. A third one with the same guy - Mingyu - which felt like a miracle. Even Jungkook was a little shocked that the poor guy wasn’t sick of you.

“Go on,” you had mused as you checked over your to-do list for the following week.

“You gotta promise me something first.”

“Promise you what?”

“That you won’t fall in love with me.”

You’d swatted him away the ruler on your desk, and told him to get his head out of his ass. “Been able to resist your charms this long, Jeon. Give me some credit.”

“It’s only ‘cause you know I’d reject you, you little gremlin.”

“I thought you wanted a favour? Funny way of going about it.”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right,” he had conceded with an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“What do you want?”

“How would you feel about potentially staying at mine over Chuseok to look after Bam? My parents want us to head down to Busan for the weekend and see relatives seeing as I’m finally free and know it’s a big ask but I-”

“Oh my God, yes?!” You had smiled so wide Jungkook thought you might fracture your jaw.

You love Bam.

In fact, he might just be your favourite thing about Jungkook.

Occasionally you walk him with Jungkook on the weekends, when you’re both hungover and need to get out of a slump. You’ve grown up with pets, but moving to the city in your early twenties to pursue your career meant apartment living.

You’re a rural girl deep down, and would never want to keep a pet in a high rise.

Jungkook manages it, but he goes home at lunchtime to walk Bam during the winter. In the summer, when it’s too hot, he goes home at lunch regardless, to lounge around with Bam under the air con.

Sometimes, you go with him. Bam is always pleased to see you.

Jungkook lied and said he asked around because he didn’t want to inconvenience you.

Truth is, he wouldn’t have trusted anyone else with his baby. He’d never spent a night away from Bam. Hated the idea. Despised it, in fact. He would have just taken Bam with him to Busan, but didn’t think it would be fair to force him on the journey from Seoul.

Over in Busan, when Jungkook hangs up, the conversation isn’t over. It continues in his head.

“Hey, wait…”

“Mhhm?”

“You just… look nice tonight, that’s all.”

He thinks you’d blush. Would tell him to lay off the soju. Accuse him of getting too drunk for a family get-together. He’d let you. Would take the beating of your false accusations, because it would be far easier than admitting he’s not had a single drop.

He thinks of the hug he’ll give Bam when he gets home; how wild his tail will waggle, how he’ll jump all over the place, and how you’ll be giggling. In his mind, you’ll be smiling just as wide as he is.

You’d stay for dinner. Jungkook would order from your favourite place to say thank you. Bam would snuggle up to Jungkook - on the sofa - and you’d be on the other side, stroking his back. He’d be happy. Bam, not Jungkook. But also Jungkook. Hopefully you, too.

When the time would approach for you to go home, you’d offer to help. Rinse out the containers. Hair up in a claw clip, t-shirt off your shoulder like it so often is.

Jungkook doesn’t notice, but his hands begin to trail down his body as he thinks of you. His phone is still on his chest, rising and falling with every beat of his heart. The tips of his fingers stroke against his skin.

He thinks of you laughing with him about something inconsequential. You’d flick water in his direction when he’d make some joke at your expense. It’d all be in good humour.

But then he’d flick some back at you, and water war would break out. Bam would run excitedly between the pair of you, Jungkook chasing you around the kitchen island with wet hands - and you’d do the exact same back. You’d flick water over the counter, tap still running and he’d call you a gremlin.

There’s a smile on his lips as he thinks of his. His hands roam further south. He’s ticking at his abdomen. It’s nice. Feels calm. He likes to engage his senses when he thinks of scenarios like these. Makes it feel more real.

But then he’s thinking of your shirt and the fact it’s white.

And then he’s imagining catching up with you, holding you captive as he angles the tap towards your face. You’ll be shrieking and scrambling to get away, Bam by your feet, Jungkook laughing.

He’d relent, but only enough for you to twist to face him.

Jungkook’s fingers are by his thighs. Stroking. Caressing. He’s avoiding his cock. Knows it’s firm. His index finger spreads to his balls. Teases.

And then he thinks of your body pressed against his torso, your ass to the counter.

You’d both be soaked.

He’d look at your lips. Look in your eyes. Feel your chest against his. He’d swallow hard.

It’s at this point he forgets about Bam in the scenario. It’s just you and him.

His palm rests over the length of his cock. Presses down. His hips roll.

He’d tell you that you’ve made a mess. You’d tell him to clean it up. His heart would be racing. So would yours.

And it’s funny, because his heart actually is. It’s beating so fucking hard in his childhood bedroom, that he thinks his parents must be able to hear it through the walls.

He’s in a far-too-firm single bed, but in his head, he’s with you in his kitchen.

He begins to grip his cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft. He pulls up. Pushes back down. Says your name. Whines.

He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Just thinks about you.

Thinks about the way it would feel to sink his lips into yours; the first bite of a forbidden fruit. Thinks about that quick tongue of yours, and if it would be just as quick to find its way into his mouth. Thinks about your manicured nails that Bam loves so much, and how they’d scratch against his scalp instead. Thinks about the way his hips would rock against you, kind of like they are now; pulsing beneath his duvet.

His mind jumps. Skips the foreplay. Doesn’t mean to - but the thoughts are intrusive. Insidious. Insatiable. He can’t help it.

He pushes up into his hand. Pauses. Waits out the feeling. Retracts. Repeats.

In his head, it’s you that he’s pushing into.

The sensation is entirely different, granted, but - fuck - he hasn’t gotten himself off all week and hasn’t had sex in far longer, so it all feels the same to him.

He hasn’t worked out the mental logistics.

His imagination is jumping from the kitchen to his bedroom and then back to the kitchen again. Can’t decide where all of this is happening - and then suddenly, he finds himself railing you in the utility room.

You’re perched above the washer, held in place by him. He can smell the laundry detergent. He’s got spotlights in the room, but they’re turned off. Only lights from the hallway and the city skyline illuminate you.

It’s obscure. The shadows in his head conceal you a little. He’s gripping your waist beneath your shirt. The baby gate which keeps Bam out of the laundry room is closed.

You’re not talking, just fucking, fucking, fucking and -

“Fuck,” he whines, hand is jerking at his cock, heart rate stuttering.

He shouldn’t be thinking about you like this.

Shouldn’t let his mind jump again to a point where you’re fucking naked, and your sodden shirt is on a pile of yet-to-be-done laundry.

But then it jumps again, and one of his towels is on the floor. He’s laying down, back against it. The same position that he’s in now in his childhood bedroom - but he’s thinking about you. The silhouette of your body. The warm curves of your body. The way you bounce on his cock and then-

Oh god, it’s torture the way his cock throbs. Pre-cum leaks from his tip as his speed builds. It’s just a fantasy. Nothing more nothing less. But it’s you. And then he’s thinking about pulling you down for a kiss, and the scent of your perfume and the way you’d moan into his mouth and then his legs are shaking, torso tensing.

He’s taking it too far. Too fucking far. You. Fuck. He can’t. But he doesn’t stop. Just keeps going. Fucks his hand like it’s your pussy.

He’s pulling himself closer, closer, closer, and then he thinks about your voice, and the way you called him Daddy, and he can’t help himself. The pressure that releases in his stomach is catastrophic. Jungkook mewls your name. Calls you baby. Unloads all over himself. White hot cum paints his belly. Seeps into his belly button. Makes a mess of his hand as he coaxes the last few ropes out. It’s been a while since his last nut, but the amount he produces is not fucking normal.

It rolls down the side of his toned torso, Jungkook swallowing harshly as he tries to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t think he can. Doesn’t know what to do with himself. Just kind of lays there. Curses. Knots his brows together. Is frustrated with himself.

You’ve been friends for years. He’s never done anything like this before. He chalks it up to nothing more than him just being a little too horny for his own good. Cleans himself off. Puts his phone on charge. Berates himself for being a piece of shit. Spends a good ten or so minutes staring at the ceiling with an empty head before he falls asleep.

And it’s funny, because when you wake up in the morning, panties damp, the dream you had about Jungkook railing you in his own damn bed, you find yourself looking across the space where he usually sleeps. You reach ouch. Stroke the emptiness. Curse. Spend the rest of the day unbearably horny. It frustrates you. Makes you snappy with Jungkook when he calls.

He asks if you’ve seen Mingyu. You tell him no. He says maybe you should - but makes sure to add, “He’s still not allowed in my apartment.”

“I’m not gonna bring anyone into your space, Jungkook.”

It’s something he knows, and something he trusts you not to do, but he’s still reinforcing boundaries. Making sure that there are still some left. He thinks that if he pushes you closer to someone else, it will sort his brain out. Alleviate him of the guilt that he’s feeling.

But you don’t see Mingyu.

When Jungkook calls again that evening to find you walking Bam alone, he’s pleased. Doesn’t want some guy you’re fucking anywhere near his most prized possession. Bam, that is. Not you. But now that he thinks of it, he finds he doesn’t want Mingyu anywhere near you, either.

“Good day?” You ask, voice a lot lighter than it had been earlier.

Jungkook nods, but he doesn’t really smile. “I miss Bammie.”

You pout. “He misses you too. He’s gonna be so excited when you get home.”

The camera switches to the back camera so he can watch Bam bound along the path. He’s on his lead, snout sniffing in all the flowerbeds. It’s dark out, but there are enough lights on the trail for him to be able to see clearly.

“How is he? Eating okay? Going to the bathroom okay?”

“Eating like a champ, and producing shits to confirm that,” you say flatly. It’s definitely your least favourite part of animal ownership - but the reward is so much greater than having to pick up shit off a sidewalk.

“That’s my boy,” Jungkook grins, before turning his focus to you. “You all good? Seemed a little stressed earlier.”

Jungkook’s expression doesn’t change when the front camera flips back to you, but he finds his heart racing again. When you turn your head to check the car that’s driving past, he notices your hair is up with a claw clip. Just like it was in his… thoughts about you the night before. He likes how attentive you are - how you checked the source of the noise. You’re protective. Follow your instincts. Thinks you’re the best person he could have asked to look after Bam.

“I’m all good,” you say, and you really are.

“I know it’s not exactly the relaxing Chuseok you were planning-”

“Jungkook, it’s fine,” you smile. “It’s been nice. I like Bammie far more than I like you.”

“Understandable.”

You both smile, and Jungkook begins to babble about his day, telling you stories about his parents, and his weird cousin who never knows when to not say inappropriate things, and the aunt who keeps trying to set him up with all of her friends’ daughters.

“Don’t shit where you eat,” you remind him. “Sounds too close to home. Your auntie would never be out of your business.”

“I know, I know,” he rolls his eyes. “And hey - it’s been, like, a year since I last did that! Cut me some slack, gremlin. Anyways, Mingyu works in our building. You’re basically shitting where you eat.”

“I’m actually… I think I’m gonna cool things off with him.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like not a big deal. I’m just not really feeling it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, you’re right. I’m not,” Jungkook admits, but is sombre as he does so. He remembers how happy you’d seemed after the first few dates. “But I am sorry that you haven’t found the right guy yet, gremlin.”

“Who knows, maybe I’ll find the love of my life at the dog park tonight.”

“You are not allowed to use my baby as a flirting tactic.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Too late - I’m already here and there is an absolute DILF. Byeeeee.”

“Wait, no-”

You hang up before he can finish, with a grin on your face to rival a Cheshire cat.

The park is empty. Not a single DILF in sight. You ignore his call when he rings back. Will let him sweat it for a bit.

Jungkook lies awake that night.

Doesn’t do much.

His family are still chatting in the sitting room, but he can’t draw himself away from the sanctuary of his own private space, where your voice is still echoing around the room. He’s starting to understand why you’d been craving your space so much for the holiday period.

He doesn’t wanna have to return to the room with a false smile, and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that could rival the ache of getting the ferry across Busan harbour during monsoon season.

Doesn’t want to form cognitive thoughts that distract him from his mindless reflections of you.

Jungkook’s mind works like a house, and right now he’s in the annexe.

He rarely ever goes in there.

Finds he gets too comfortable and neglects the rest of the house. He’s got a garden to tend to, a kitchen to clean, and beds to make - but why would he leave the annexe when it has everything he needs? He’s comfortable there.

It’s normally reserved for the hyper-fixations he’s trying not to fixate on. He locks them away. Hasn’t really visited since he got hooked on GTA5 when he should have been studying for the University Entrance Exam. It’s still there, and he knows better than to pop it in his games console - but there’s someone else on the couch, now. It’s not just him in his mind-annexe. Someone’s in his space. He daren’t let himself go further into the room.

In fact, he’s desperately trying to jump across to the main house. Get himself out of the thoughts that are gonna consume him. He needs to close that God damn door.

But he watches the figure like a car crash. He’s scared. Unable to look away.

Not for fear of it being a monster hidden in the depths of his mind.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Monsters don’t wear their hair up with butterfly-shaped claw clips, or let the clasp of their necklace trail down their spine like that. Monsters don’t twist their back out of habit just to make it click. Monsters don’t spend their days doodling in a journal like the figure on his couch is doing.

But you do.

An iteration of Bam rests up against Jungkook’s leg in his mind, nose wet, tail lightly wagging, so he puts his hand on his pup’s shoulder for comfort. To support him. To guide him away from the annexe and back into the damn main house.

“C’mon,” he says to Bam, expecting him to leave. Expecting him to follow his commands.

It’s his head, after all - but Bam doesn’t heed his commands. Instead, his claws click against the hardwood floor and towards the figure on Jungkook’s couch. A palm outstretches, and Bam leans into it. Hums in content as a set of dark nails scratch at his ear.

“Hey, baby Bammie,” the figure sings and Jungkook knows that voice. Knows it so well that it’s hardly a surprise it’s embedded into his brain so perfectly.

And he knows.

He knows if he lets the person turn around exactly who it’s gonna be. He knows that he can’t let it happen. He won’t.

Because he and you are friends; nothing more, nothing less. Incompatible at best. A match made in hell; so wrong it could never be right.

Jungkook sits up. Shakes his head. The world in his mind tears away into darkness. He stands and tells himself to get a grip before joining his family. He needs the distraction. Needs to have cognitive thoughts. Can’t let himself get trapped. Can’t let him kid himself into thinking that you’re anything more than his friend.

It’s just cause he’s missing Bam, he reasons. Emotions are getting all mixed up. It’s the affection he feels for his beloved best friend that is getting misplaced onto you - although, if he thinks about it (which he won’t (knows better by this point (knows his mind can’t be trusted to behave))), he’d realise that you are his best friend.

It’s unfair to compare you to Bam because you’re an entirely different species, but there’s no other human he likes better than you.

One more day, and he’ll be home. One more day, and he won’t have to call you when he’s all sleepy and confused over his feelings. One more day, and things will be back to normal. One more measly day.

And then he’ll be reunited with Bam, and he won’t have the stress of family or thinking about the week of work ahead to contend with.

One more day. He can do this.

He will do it. Will barrel home at the speed of lightning; will stop only for red lights and maybe the occasional gas station snack, potato spirals on a pointed wooden skewer and deep-fried chicken slathered in a sauce he can never quite figure out the recipe for.

He’ll think about picking you up some bungeoppang - the ones filled with choux, not red bean paste - because he knows that you adore it so. There have been occasions when you’ve begged him to drive you out of the city to the large gas station out West just so you could have bungeoppang from one specific stall.

The signage is faded, and the prices haven’t changed since 2009, but that’s how you know it’s the good shit. A family recipe batter passed down for generations. The woman who makes it is always the same, and though she never remembers you, you always remember her. Beam so brightly Jungkook thinks he’s going blind whenever you spot her.

It’s only because of that one time you’d showed up with the sole mission to retrieve some of the delicious delicacies, only to be confronted with a handwritten ‘closed today, back tomorrow’ note taped to the menu. You never know when the next family emergency or trip out of town might be for your beloved bungeoppang-making Ajumma.

It’s a little after midday when Jungkook’s car rolls into the gas station. He’ll be home soon.

He tells himself that he’s just doing as he always does. Will get his tornado potato. Wolf it down. Go back for some chicken, maybe some tteok.

He’s stayed out of the annexe today. Doesn’t even think about the doorway because he knows the magnetic pull is far too strong for his cobalt heart.

Had ignored your call this morning - sorry, just saying goodbye to everyone. will see you later. - and had pushed all thoughts of you to the side. He’s even tried to stop thinking about Bam because thoughts of him will inevitably lead to thoughts of you and Jungkook is getting dizzy, quite frankly. It’s like he’s chasing his tail, never knowing when to admit defeat.

At least Bam gets enjoyment out of it when he does it. All Jungkook gets is lingering feelings of remorse.

But as he hits the home straight, a small paper bag full of choux bungeoppang cooling down on his passenger seat, his head starts to clear. He’s fixed the lock on the gate that leads to the annexe. Won’t go down that path.

Jungkook arrives ahead of schedule. Parks his car, and doesn’t tell you he’s arrived. Leaves his bag in the boot of the car, but picks up the pastries from his passenger seat.

Opens the door of his apartment quietly. You don’t hear it. Are too busy dancing around the living room with Bam to some mid-noughties classic.

“Hey,” you laugh a little breathlessly as finally notice him. He’s leaning against the wall. Is wearing his glasses, to make up for the long drive. You think it’s a crying shame he doesn’t wear them at work, too.

“Was I interrupting something?”

“No, not all,” you say. There are deep creases below your eyes, testament to the size of your smile. “Me and baby Bammie-” you reach over and stroke at his sides, a little rough and tumble, but perfectly joyous “- were just burning off a little energy before you got home.”

Jungkook crouches, arms outstretched for Bam. The puppy knocks into Jungkook’s chest, legs all moving slightly out of coordination, excitable whines sounding in his throat. His tail wags so fast you think he’d be able to produce electricity if he really tried.

They match each other’s energy; delirious happiness, content only when in one another’s presence.

“Hey buddy,” he coos. “Daddy’s home. I missed you. Missed me too, hey? C’mere.”

His strong hands stroke Bam’s sides, and you watch how playful they both are with unadulterated awe. It seems absurd how similar the two of them are; man and his best friend.

“He was lost without you,” you confirm.

“It’s that right?” Jungkook pouts as he scratches behind Bam’s ears, cradling his face in his hands. “Did Bammie miss Daddy?”

Bam barks. Yes.

“Hey, I’m sorry, boy. I’m home now, though. Daddy’s home.”

Yes, you think. Yes, he is.

The night dissolves much like Jungkook thought it would. You stay for dinner. Watch crappy entertainment shows, and laugh at how absurd people can be. There’s warmth in his apartment, even though he hasn’t turned the heating on.

“You’ll never know how much I appreciate this,” Jungkook says softly as midnight approaches. Bam sighs. There’s rain on the windows, but the storm doesn’t bother him tonight. Not in the slightest. “Thank you.”

Your head shakes. Smile perseveres. “Happy to do it. You know how much I love Bam.”

Silence wraps around your words like a velvet bow, pulled taut. There’s no double knot, but there needn’t be. It isn’t unravelling any time soon.

“So,” you change topic. “How long do you reckon it will take the new secretary to fall in love with you? I’m thinking maybe four days.”

Jungkook wants to make a joke; tease you about how your mind jumped from how much you love his dog, to the idea of loving him. Not you loving him, granted, but it only took a few electrical signals between neurons for you to get there. Must associate him with love pretty closely.

“Four days? Far too quick.” Jungkook pauses. “You’ve been staying here for four days. Reckon that’s an appropriate amount of time to fall in love with someone?”

He’s being facetious. It’s all in jest and yet you feel your heart beat a little faster. Only for a moment. There’s a mild concern in your features, fearful that he can somehow sense the thoughts you’ve been having; the fantasies, the daydreams, the moments of weakness.

You look at him with eyes he doesn’t recognise. Your lashes are low. Sultry, even. Suggestive. Teasing.

And then, they roll.

“Jeon, you have those poor girls on their knees within a single ‘hello’. Don’t act like you don’t know it, you big old flirt.”

“If Bam wasn’t so peaceful, I’d kick you,” he mumbles, stroking at the dark fur behind his pup’s ear. Bam sighs, content to have him back. There’s a smile on Jungkook’s lips. Both are perfectly content. Both are happy to be with the people they like the most in the world.

“He’d just defend me,” you taunt. There’s a serenity to your jokes, and light-hearted banter that means nothing more, nothing less than just enjoyment of one another’s company. “I’m his favourite now.”

Jungkook laughs. Scratches a little firmer behind Bam’s ear. “You hear that, boy? Gremlin really thinks you’d choose her over me.”

You pull your torso back. Turn your body to face his. Let disbelief wash over your features, as if Jungkook saying shit like that’s a surprise. The movement alerts Bam, his head lifting, the chain links of his collar rattling. He looks over to you, then back to Jungkook.

“He LOVES me.”

“I thought dogs are supposed to take after their owners, though?” Jungkook teases. “And I can’t fuckin’ stand you.”

Your playful shock dissolves into narrowed eyes and a suppressed grin. Bam’s looking at you again, so you cup his dainty face and scratch the underside of his jaw. “You hear that, baby Bammie? How are you so lovely when your Daddy is such an asshole?”

Jungkook’s steady gaze lifts to you from Bam. You’re still cooing at the puppy, scratching beneath his snout, but Jungkook’s back in that damn annexe again. He isn’t smiling - but his eyes are unbelievably soft.

So, so velvety. Like satin, maybe; ribbons tied around ponytails. Brushed cotton, perhaps; his still-warm bedsheets fresh out of the tumble dryer.

Soft, like he imagines your hair would be; released from its claw clip, falling around his face. Soft, like he imagines your lips would be; pressed against his, in the privacy of his bedroom. Soft, like he imagines your laugh would be; soundtracking the living alarm clock that is Jeon Bam, as he bundles onto Jungkook’s bed at just gone six-thirty the following morning.

But then you look up at him, and his stare is hard. Still sparkling, yes - but diamonds, not stars. Concrete speckled. Pennies tossed in an empty well; the steel bolt of his door which keeps the outside world at bay.

Hard, like he imagines your teeth would be; tugging on his bottom lip in the shadows of his bedroom. Hard, like he imagines your nails would be; leaving a trail of ruby red sin down his back. Hard, like he imagines your laboured breaths would be; lips resting ajar against his, your very essence pouring into him as he pushes into you.

Hard. Soft. Confusing and conflicting, and just so unbelievably him.

“What?” you question, bemused by the way his demeanour changed. “‘Daddy’ really gets you, huh?”

“Does fuck all for me,” he says with a little temperance, but there’s a smirk on his lips. His tongue runs along the inside of his cheek.

A few have tried the moniker on him, but it never fit well. Would fall from their lips and crash to his bedroom floor. He’d just kiss them to shut them up.

But you… You have him reconsidering. Have him a little hot beneath his sweats.

It’s not really the idea of being your Daddy, but the concept of being one full-stop that has him adjusting his legs slightly. He’s a man of big investments, after all. No greater investment than starting a life with another person. He likes the idea of it.

Makes him think of you talking with a toddler - I’m not sure, baby, go ask Daddy -and the pitter-patter of feet across the hardwood floors of his apartment. Makes him think how gentle you are with Bam, and how wonderful he knows you’d be with a kid. Makes him think all kinds of shit he’s never let himself indulge in before.

When he goes to bed that evening, and his sheets are seeped in the scent of your perfume, he thinks of it all over again.

Thinks of you.

And realises he can’t think about you without his heart racing, any more.

The door of the annexe in his mind is broken, now. Off its hinges.

And apparently, so is he.

Shit.

#byholly #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #bangtan fic #officeworker!jungkook #fuckboy!jungkook #f2l #hi bam!!!!#ian #jungkook fluff

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lazyjellyfish300 · 2 months

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The Woman He Didn't Choose part 2🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant Reader

Synopsis: the aftermath of the show as you and Miguel move on(sort of). The first part is mostly from his POV then transitions into your experience on the spinoff show- Singles in Paradise where you have a second shot at finding love. Word count: 6k

A/N: Sorry to any Xina fans, I made her OOC and quite mean in this one. I haven't read the comics but from what I've heard of her and seen so far she's one of the canon love interests I like the most. (Even tho I shamelessly self ship with Miguel lolol bc as far as I know ATSV Miguel is separate from comic Miguel Soo until we hear otherwise I'm gonna be delulu.)

Also, I am sorry if any of the couple pairings in this part bother you, it's purely for the purpose of the plot since we're supposed to be on another dating show and I am too lazy to create a bunch of OCs. If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, RACIAL MICROAGGRESSIONS ABOUT ESL AND FAMILY STRUCTURE(IF THAT'S SENSITIVE FOR YOU PLEASE SKIP ❤️) EMOTIONAL ABUSE, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, ALCOHOL ,DOWNPLAYING MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES, LITTLE BIT OF EMOTIONAL CHEATING ON MIGUEL'S PART, STRUGGLES WITH RELIGION AND FAITH, MENTION BULLYING AND FAMILY STRUGGLES, BREAK-UP, FANTASIZING, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CLASSISM, MODERATE SMUT(P IN V BUT IT'S ONLY MENTIONED NOT FULLY DETAILED, THESE ONES ARE DETAILED: DRY HUMPING, HEAVY MAKING OUT, AND FINGERING. ALSO, VOYEURISM-ISH)

(couple pairings are Ben Reilly and Felicia Hardy, Jessica Drew and Noir, George Stacey and MJ, Xina Kwan and Miguel O'Hara, not saying anything else bc spoilers)

Part 1 , Part 3

@miguelhugger2099, @kodo1221,@mimiemie, @laysmt, @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 , @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 , @ce3stvu @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood , @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @famouscattale

I'm so sorry if I forgot you in the tags , just lmk

------

"Miguel!"

Miguel looks up abruptly from a spot on the floor he was zoning out on to look at Xina's slightly annoyed expression. "Hydrangeas or peonies for the guest tables, babe?" she repeats, standing next to the sample table where the wedding planner and florist awaited with anxious eyes.

Miguel blinks rapidly. "It doesn't matter to me, baby...um...." he points to the peony arrangement. "That one."

Xina huffs and turns to look at the planner and florist. "We'll do the hydrangeas."

Miguel smirks and puts his hands in his pockets. "Now, why would you ask me my opinion if you're going to just pick the one you wanted?"

Xina's annoyed look softens subtly but she shakes her head. "It's mostly the bride's day, you know. You're just supposed to show up."

Miguel smiles. "Well, I guess you don't need me to come to the wedding planning dinner tonight? Since you seem to have it all handled?"

Xina groans. "Miguel! You said you'd be there! Have you even read through Exodus like I asked you to?"

Miguel feels his cheeks burn. "Shit...um, no..."

Xina shoots a glare at the wedding planner and the florist and makes a shooing motion with her hand. They both put their heads down and quickly leave the room, giving them privacy. Miguel adjusts his tie, a little bit thrown off by her dismissive actions towards the staff.

Xina sits down at the table and pours herself a glass of ice water. She takes a long sip and sighs, looking at Miguel. "Babe...," she says in a low voice. "You know that getting married in the church is a top priority for me. You know what it means to me..."

Miguel's eyebrows knit together with worry. "I know it is..." he rapidly crosses the room to join her and kneels in front of her, hands on her thighs. She squirms away from him a little and purses her lips, looking down.

"Promise me you'll catch up on your Bible reading by next week and set up an appointment with the missionaries?"

Miguel hesitates for just a fraction of a second in his mind but he answers her, almost a little too quickly, "Of course I will."

Xina manages to give him a little smile, fiddling with the top button on his shirt. "Love you..."

"Love you too."

---

Later that evening, Xina and Miguel are sitting next to each other at a large, circular, oak table across from her parents, eating dinner in their mansion of a home.

Xina's mother makes a face when she takes a bite of the salmon.

"Something wrong with it, hun?" Xina's father asks, dishing himself some potatoes.

Xina's mother spits the bite into a napkin. "Rex!" She barks. An older, balding man with a kind face and chef's uniform enters the dining room. "Yes, ma'am?"

"Salmon's not up to par, I'm afraid." She pushes the dish towards the puzzled chef.

"M' sorry ma'am. Can I make you anything else you'd like instea-"

She cuts him off. "No, my appetite's ruined. That's all, Rex."

The chef looks down in shame at the dish he worked hard on, picking it up with shaky hands and shuffling quickly out of the dining room.

Miguel tightens his grip on his fork and shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. He had not seen this side of Xina's parents. But, it was only their third time meeting, so he did his best to concentrate on who he was really there for, Xina. He took another bite of his roast beef.

Once the old man was out of earshot, Xina's mother tuts her teeth. "Sorry, he's insufferable... I don't know what we'll do with him.... is your roast beef even edible, dear?" She asks Miguel.

Miguel inhales slowly, trying to stifle his outrage on the chef's behalf but Xina's father cuts in.

"So, Miguel," Xina's father says, breaking the silence. "Your folks are planning on driving down on the... 25th, right? For the rehearsal dinner?"

Miguel nods, blotting his lips with a cloth napkin. "Yes, sir."

"Remind me who's coming?" He asks, pouring a generous helping of gravy on his potatoes.

Miguel clears his throat. "My younger brother, Gabe, and my mother-"

"Right, your father's not in your life." Xina's father says, waving his fork.

Miguel's lips fall open and he blinks in disbelief at the abruptness of his statement. I mean, he wasn't lying, per se. Miguel took a sip of his wine, trying to chalk it up to just him not choosing his words carefully, that's all.

"Right, he's not..." Miguel says, straightening in his chair.

Xina's mother pipes up, "You know, that's really such an inspiration on your part. Most people like you with your background end up on the streets, or worse."

Miguel abruptly stops cutting his meat, first looking at Xina's mother, who sat with a smile on her face looking at him, to her husband, who was too occupied with his potatoes to even care, to Xina who was just looking at her lap, clearly a little embarrassed at her comment, but stayed silent.

It got worse. She continues, "... wouldn't even guess that English isn't your first language. You're so well spoken for someone like you."

At that point, Miguel is so uncomfortable that he stands up abruptly, removing his napkin from his lap and setting it next to his wine glass.

"...if you'll excuse me..." he briskly walks out, making sure to close the front door a little extra loudly than he normally would.

Miguel paces in the driveway, taking deep breaths. He exhales a little bit when he sees Xina, but he's met with a different reaction than he was expecting.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her stomach.

Miguel's face contorts in confusion, "Babe..that comment your mom made-"

"It's just how she is, Miguel!" Xina says, her annoyance starting to make itself apparent as her face comes into view.

Miguel is now even more confused.

"Just come back inside, please?" Xina looks around, hoping none of the neighbors were witnessing their spat.

Miguel takes a step back, his face hurt. "Xi...what's got into you...?"

"Look, I'm sorry that she said it, okay? But that's just how she is. She doesn't have a filter. Old people are just like that. Now she's upset because you stormed out."

Miguel becomes angry now. "Babe. I understand your parents are from a different generation and your mom has a certain way of... communicating." He sighs. "But what she said was kind of racist. I felt extremely uncomfortable."

Xina looks up at the sky in utter aggravation, "Okay! Fine! You're right! It was totally racist, okay? Happy? I'll talk to her about it later, but I really don't wanna fight anymore about this. We're supposed to walk down the aisle in three and a half weeks. They're just stressed because they're not only hosting my family, they're hosting yours too. I'm stressed, you're stressed. We all are..."

Miguel takes a deep breath. Now he's second guessing himself and his feelings. Did he overreact? The last thing he wanted was for them to dislike him. They were his future in-laws after all. Even though Miguel is hurt she won't defend him and is downplaying his feelings, he decides to shove them aside for her sake. Miguel looks down at her, taking her waist in his hands. She flinches a little and tries to pull back at first, but remains where she's standing when he holds her a little tighter.

"I'm sorry...okay? I'm sorry for being an ass..." Miguel can't help but feel a little odd that he's the one apologizing, but he continues. "Let's go back inside, yeah? Maybe we can go on a date this Friday, just to get away from all this wedding planning stuff."

Xina gives him a half smile and takes his hand in hers. "Deal..."

----

Later that night as Miguel showered in his shared apartment with Xina, he kept replaying their fight over and over again. He didn't know what it was, but lately, Xina was showing a very different side of herself. One that was completely the opposite of the soft spoken sweetheart he fell in love with when the cameras were rolling

He knew that she was religious when he proposed, but had the impression she was more of an Easter and Christmas-only attendee. Her devoutness amped up shortly after their engagement. Her pressure for him accept Jesus and get baptized so they could be married in her church started making him realize he bit off a little more than he could chew.

He felt a phony when she'd ask him to pray over meals and when he'd be called on to read a passage in Sunday School, like he wasn't supposed to be there. His scientific-inclined brain clashed with the idea of a magical being in the sky who would send him to Hell if he touched himself.

Furthermore, Xina demonstrated that she could be quite insensitive to his feelings, and he couldn't unsee the way his future in-laws poorly treated their chef in front of him, and the casual microaggressions they were throwing out about him and his family.

His whole childhood, he was bullied for his accent and for being one of the kids who would get pulled out of class for extra tutoring because he was so far behind everyone else. He was used to being doubted and constantly faced taunts from his classmates and teachers. Conchata was generally the better parent compared to George, but unfortunately that wasn't saying much.

She put immense pressure on Miguel to do well and excel in everything, constantly shifting the goalposts for the near impossible standards she expected him to reach.

But, he worked his ass off and eventually started reading two grade levels above his current grade and took home placing trophies in Math and Science olympiads. It wasn't long before Ivy League schools set their sights on him, and he went on to be the successful geneticist he was today, even buying Conchata a new house despite their volatile relationship.

Throughout it all, he never felt ashamed of where he came from, or his heritage. Nevertheless, it was something he was still was VERY sensitive about and he told Xina about it many times which is why it stung when she couldn't defend him. He even told you about it.

Oh God....you. This was the first time in a while that he finally allowed his mind to dwell on you for longer than a minute. He remembered how receptive you were when he told you. For once, he didn't hear a, "well at least you have it better than most", or a "cheer up, it's not so bad," when he explained his life story. Instead, you listened carefully with a soft look in your eyes and one of your hands resting on top of his, letting him know that the way he felt was completely valid. Something he didn't realize could be so healing when he heard you say that in that moment.

On top of that, your family was so...kind. Your mom even went out of her way to whip up an extra loaf of banana bread just for him when she caught wind that it was his favorite. Your siblings treated him like he was just another member of the family and it was a little unreal how seamlessly he got along with all of them. And, he distinctly remembered how gracious every single one of them were to the restaurant staff when you all went to lunch, with no awkward, demeaning energy like Xina's parents unfortunately demonstrated at dinner tonight. The cameras must have kept them on their best behavior until their true selves could come out once they turned off.

He's about to do something he knows he shouldn't, but he can't resist. He unblocks you on Instagram. (He has only one post on his own account and it's from when he was announced as The Eligible Suitor, the show forced him to create one for publicity's sake, he actually loathes social media in all forms).

And there you were, smiling with your friends at brunch. Another one of you showing off your new dog you rescued from the shelter named Hamilton, and your gorgeous headshot of you in a swimming suit for your debut on Singles in Paradise, where you and other rejected candidates from the show were all going to go at it in a fancy beach resort in Mexico.

Man, you looked good, curves on full display. The smile that he fell in love with was spread across your lovely face. The same one he was responsible for erasing when he broke your heart with less than 10 words on a tranquil beach in Thailand months earlier.

Now, you seemed happier. Trying to carry on with life as though he was never there. Like he didn't haunt your dreams and the sound of his name didn't cause the sting of a thousand burns to scorch through your body. Like you were never the first girl he ever spilled his cum into during that sexy night in the Fairytale Suites, remnants of him imprinted somewhere deep inside you.

Xina climbs into bed next to him and he closes out of Instagram immediately, ashamed that he let his mind wander. Her hand wanders down to his cock and it's not long until he's pounding into her. His mind struggles desperately to fight off the memory of the way your lips parted in ecstasy the whole time she's underneath him.

-----

A few days later

"What the fuck, Miguel?!" Xina screams at him over the phone. Miguel holds the phone away from his ear for a moment, the sound too harsh against his eardrum. She was upset at him this time for his interview on a morning talk show, promoting their upcoming wedding which was supposed to be aired live as the show's long awaited special before Singles in Paradise made its debut.

The host smiled and leaned on her elbow.

"Now, Miguel. Eligible Suitor's number one fan blog is releasing rumors that you only chose Xina because she was the safer option compared to y/n, the season's edgier "bad girl". Is there some truth to that statement, or can you elaborate on that?

Miguel nods slowly, a little bit of panic settling in on the inside, wondering how the hell the fan pages were eerily accurate, despite him not giving away any hints about his internal struggles regarding his engagement to the press that he was aware of.

"Well, as the man chosen to be the Eligible Suitor, there are certain expectations for me and who I ultimately end up with...Xina fit in well with my family. She had all the qualities of the ideal partner. Overall, it just seemed to be a better match..."

"But you're making it sound like if say, y/n for example had all of that, would you have picked her instead?"

Miguel hesitates, turning a little red. He wasn't good at lying. "Well, I mean..."

Awkward silence that lasts a little too long.

He quickly tries to recover but he ends up making it worse, "I mean, what's done is done. There's not really a point in wondering about that, you know....? We-we're very excited for the wedding..."

It wasn't longer than a minute after the show cut to commercial that his phone was ringing off the hook.

"Tell me right now that you love me, and not her, or I swear to God, Miguel I will call off this whole thing!" She says through tears.

Miguel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. Now he really felt like a jerk.

"I do love you baby..."

Xina is still distraught and doesn't seem to want to listen. "After everything we've been through. I've supported you. I got along with your mom, I got an apartment with you. I even supported you through all that mental health bullshit of yours and you still can't even defend me on live television and say you love me more than that broke piece of trash!"

Miguel freezes. "Hold on, mental health bullshit....?" Miguel really hopes that he didn't just hear what he thought he heard. He does his best to keep his anger at bay but he can feel it rising anyway. "So, all of the internal struggles I trusted you enough to tell you about....my depression which is something that will ALWAYS be a part of me, Xina...you think it's bullshit?"

Xina sputters, "Miguel, no, I didn't mean it like that. It's just...ugh you are just so hard to deal with sometimes, you know? I totally understand and respect the fact that you're going through a lot right now, but so am I. And I can't sit here and coddle you through everything if you don't get help."

Miguel's world comes shattering down. His worst fear that started to creep into the back of his mind ever since about 2 weeks after he proposed to Xina had just been confirmed to be true: she was not at all the woman he thought she was. It was merely an act for the show, and, with the help of the producers and audience, they pushed him towards her simply because she was the woman they wanted to see him with, when his heart truly lied with you the whole time.

And now, you were on a beach in Mexico probably getting courted by all sorts of men who could give you way more than Miguel ever could, while he was left to contend with a broken heart and a cancelled wedding.

He says in a shaky voice. "I was getting help...I told you I started therapy. I trusted you with THE most sensitive parts of me, Xina. And you threw it in my face. By the way, why do you say y/n is broke trash, as you put it, huh?"

"Miguel, stop putting words in my mouth..."

"Nononono...you LITERALLY said it, Xi. Don't start with your gaslighting bullshit on me!" Miguel is raising his voice now. "You called her broke trash. Let me guess: you shoo away our wedding planners, your parents treat your chef like complete shit. She has less money and prospects than you, therefore she's just trash, right? Well, I came from hardly anything, too. Does that make me trash? Huh?"

There's only silence on the other line, then she says, "Miguel, you're different..."

"No. No, Xina. You're different. You're not who I thought you were, and I think we shouldn't be marrying each other." Hot tears spill down Miguel's face and he hangs up his phone. He presses his back against the wall, sliding down until he hides his face in his hands, sobbing on the floor.

--------

A few weeks later at a beach bungalow resort in Mexico

"Welcome back to another season of: Singles in Paradise, I'm your host, Jason Donner and boy is it good to be back!" Jason beams, flashing his pearly whites at the camera.

You hear your cue and you walk out, clad in a white bikini with a pretty purple coverup wrapped around your midriff with the knot resting on your hip, emphasizing the curve, a certain post-break up glow about you that immediately made you hard to resist, a confident twinkle in your eye. You greet Jason with a hug and he holds your hands in his.

"Great to see you. Feelin' nervous?"

You flash a lovely smile at him, playing it up for the cameras. "Just a little bit. But I'm more so excited than nervous."

Jason's lips curve into a smirk. "Anyone down there on that beach you're hoping to run into?"

Miguel.

No, you hadn't really thought about it. Noir was pretty cute. You throw his name out there. "I hope Noir is down there..."

Jason nods, giving your shoulder a good luck squeeze. "Well, go on down there and see for yourself. Good luck! And welcome to paradise once again."

"Thanks, Jas!" You play it up, giving him a little flirty wink as you walk down the stone path and disappear into some trees, making your way to the beach. Necks turn slowly and you feel your heart pound as several pairs of eyes land on you.

Felicia Hardy is standing at the beach side resort bar waiting on her piña colada with a bad case of RBF. But, her snowy eyes melt into an enthusiastic expression when she sees you.

"Noooo way!!! Oh my GOD, you're even hotter in person! Girl! What!!"

You beam, flattered as she pulls you into a hug. Her long, platinum blonde hair hangs loose from a claw clip with the ponytail flowing in waves that brush against her back, a few stray wisps framing her face. She's wearing a dark blue tube top dress which is doing her figure all types of favors, accentuating her goddess-like pear shape. And, she smells totally divine of coconut body spray, evidence of sunbathing apparent in her sunkissed cheeks and tan lines.

"Holy shit, where'd you get your outfit?" She asks, giving her piña colada a sip, shamelessly eyeing you up from head to toe.

You smile, giving her a little twirl. "Girl, $20 at Marshall's for the whole thing. I swear to God."

"No way! Oh my God, I love that place!" Felicia smiles. "I gotta say I'm a huge fan of you. Dude, that pissed me off so fucking bad when Miguel fucked you over like that."

You smile back at her, flattered. You can tell that you definitely want to have Felicia be your beach bestie throughout this whole process. She had been the Eligible Suitorette about 2 seasons ago. Her tenure was one that went down in the show's history, the way she didn't take any shit, and had so many guys falling all over her. But, unfortunately her engagement to Flash Thompson went down in flames when his dumb ass eventually got caught cheating, making fans of the show rally around her even more.

"So, I guess I should give you the low down on who's coupled up with who so far?" She asks.

You nod, familiar with this part of the game. "Yes, please. Oh my God, tell me everything."

You two go sit down on a pair of beach chairs, turning them so your knees are touching each other, leaning in close together for your woman to woman huddle, the cameras zooming in on you both.

"Okay, so first of all, I'm with Ben." She gleams, biting her lip. You follow her gaze and see Ben shirtless, playing volleyball with some of the other men, his baby blues are locked right back on Felicia with his angelic, pretty boy face. He nods and gives you a polite wave hello.

"Girrrrrrllllll...." You smile, turning back to her. "Good for you, honestly, he is SO damn fine, respectfully of course."

Felicia throws her head back and waves you off with a laugh. "Girl, thank you. No worries at all. Yeah, he's uh, he's something else alright." She bites her lip again and looks down. "He treats me so good. It's going really well..."

You give her a warm look, the unmistakable signs of falling head over heels quite recognizable all over her demeanor and the way she's talking about him.

Felicia resumes her report. "Noir is here, but he's got a thing for Jess."

You feel slightly disappointed to hear that but nod, encouraging her to continue.

"Peter B. is here, but it's been kinda awkward. MJ is here too."

"No fucking way?" You sit up, interested. "They really invited both of them here?"

Peter B. and MJ were considered royalty as far as the show goes, with Peter being one of the most beloved suitors of the show's history. However, that quickly became tainted with scandal with the volatile on-and-off nature of his and MJ's relationship. They got engaged at the end of his season, then they were "taking some time apart", then they reunited, but he was seen in the Barbados with some mysterious brunette, but she was also out and about with no engagement ring. BUT, they were spotted in Chicago holding hands and all over each other in a night club just a month ago

"Yeah girl, I have no fucking clue. They're clearly off at the moment , but you can totally tell it's bugging Peter. She's all over George right now."

"Girl noooo. George Stacy?!"

"George, fucking-Stacy, girlll."

George had troubling political opinions and was known for being quite a douche. BUT he was also well over 6 feet tall with ocean eyes, big arms, and money. Well, for you, personally, no way in hell you'd tolerate that.

"MJ hates me though." Felicia warns.

"Wait, why??"

"She thinks I "stole her man" even though Peter was literally throwing himself at me when they were on break number 394 or some shit." Felicia chuckles, shaking her head, stirring her piña colada which is now becoming a watery slush. She pauses for a moment then looks at you. "So, girl, tell me, who did you have your eyes on coming here?"

"Well..." You sigh, the options so far were not promising. "I did think Noir was cute, but he's already with Jess."

"You could still invite him on a date, technically." Felicia points out. "But, I understand. He does reallyyy seem to be into her right now. It would be hard to try and pull him at this point." She drums her fingers. "Girl! Go for Peter. Oh my God you guys would be so cute!"

You blush internally. Peter? You hadn't given him much thought. You turn around, searching for him. He's standing in the ocean a few feet away up to his ankles. He turns to the side a little, and the wind blows open his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt as he leans down to examine one of the seashells under his feet.

Oh God, he was handsome. 6'2, lean muscles peppered with dark hair that ran across his chest and belly button, and a shadow of stubble on his face gave him a rugged feel, but those chocolate puppy brown eyes made him look so innocent. One of his cheeks had a little dimple that would pop out when he made that signature little smirk of his.

"Fffuck...really, girl?" You murmur, your jaw practically still hanging open at the sight of him. "But I thought you two were a thing?"

Felicia smirks. "Hell no! I rejected him forever ago. You sooo like him! I can tell. Just do it!"

You take a shaky breath. "God...okay, fuck it. I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Good luck!" Felicia calls after you. "Come find me afterwards and tell me everything!!"

You nod and shoot her a smile as you walk away. You bite your lip, your stomach doing all sorts of flips and tricks as you approach Peter. He has sort of a hopeless look on his face as he watches George and MJ from afar cuddled up on their beach towels, George's rough hands rubbing sunscreen into her shoulders as he was practically eye-fucking her.

"Peter!" You call for him. Peter turns, confused at the sound of a woman's voice calling for him, but his pupils go wide when he locks eyes with you for the first time.

"H-Hey!" His lips part a little bit at the sight of your gorgeous hair and friendly smile. His eyes start to land on your figure but he quickly flicks them back upwards to look into yours, not wanting to look like a perv. God, he was so cute. He offers you one of his hands, his voice gentle. "I'm Peter B."

You introduce yourself and he repeats your name back to you. The way he says it is making you scream a little on the inside, his voice is soothing and low. And suddenly you want to know more, so much more about him. And with the way he's gazing down at you, he does too.

You two just stand there in the ocean, chatting as the wind rustles against you both. Soon, the sun is starting to dip further down in the sky and you feel a chill coming on. Peter notices the goosebumps on your arms and wraps his shirt around you, holding you under his arm as you both meander back to the beach.

You squeal when he swoops you into a bridal style carry, butterflies appear in his stomach when he feels your hair brush under his chin, and he's almost tempted to pull you in closer. No, he decides there's plenty of time for that later, if all of this continues to go as flawlessly as it is already. He sets you down on one of the poolside cabanas, spreading a blanket over your legs. You curl up under it, shooting him a smile of appreciation. He looks at you with adoring eyes at how cute you look curled up like that.

"Can I get you something to drink?" He asks gently, the tips of his fingers brushing against your thigh, sending a chill down your spine.

"Um, vodka cranberry, please." You say sweetly. Peter gives you his signature smirk, the little dimple in his cheek driving you wild. His fingers make full contact with your thigh this time, stealing the breath from your lungs.

"Coming right up..." he's off to get you your drink, leaving you internally screaming by the pool.

---

Jason is leaning against a palm tree, silently monitoring the scene of flirtatious couples below when a tall dark figure approaches him. The camera stays on Jason and captures the look of shock across his face.

"Well, well, WELL! Look who it is, great to see you man!"

The man's face isn't shown, and it appears his response is being muted off mic, Jason's voice is the only audible one, the camera focusing on his reactions with the mystery guest,

"Wow...I'm so sorry to hear that man...yeah, yeah she's here. And you're sure about this.....? Alright, well here's your date card, feel free to use it whenever you wish. Good luck down there man."

------

You and Peter are laughing together by the pool, the alcohol slowly starting to weave its way into your banter. The daybed you're sharing is just a smidge too small, forcing your thigh to touch his as you squish on it together, bodies laying side by side. When you ask him a question, you subtly push yours a little closer into his. Peter seems to notice your increasing touch, his train of thought stalling for just one minute, before he turns pink and apologizes. "Sorry, must be the alcohol," he mumbles cutely, looking sheepishly at you.

"Yeah, the alcohol..." you tease, your pointer finger traces his sternum. His breath hitches and he's looking at you with wet lips, his eyes come to rest on your breasts that are squished so deliciously together.

You're looking back at him too, letting your eyes rake over his body up and down, admiring how good he looks and how the faded blue lights from the pool are casting a sensual shadow over his form, wondering how it would look if it were in the darkness of your bedroom instead.

Peter clears his throat. The nervousness catching up to him, and he turns his head, gazing at the shimmering water. "Sorry..." he lets out a breathy chuckle, then turns back to you. "I haven't connected this quickly with someone ever since...well I mean, since my last relationship which ended badly..... As I'm sure you're well aware of thanks to the press."

You hum, your finger now tracing little circles on his shoulder, making him tremble slightly. "Yeah....I heard. I'm kind of in the same boat."

You take a deep sigh. God, just when you thought you were getting over him, Miguel pulls you right back in. Being with Peter right now feels foreign, strange. You can't put a finger on it. You notice that those decadent brown eyes are already fixed on you, and you stare back, your voice oozing a hint of desire as you softly tell him,

"But, I wouldn't mind if I...spent some more time getting to know you."

Peter exhales softly, you detect the sweetness of the liquor on his breath, the wetness that the rim of his glass left behind is shiny on his bottom lip, and all you want to do is taste.

Peter slowly smirks back, his fingers coming to pull under your chin, bringing your face closer to his.

"I wouldn't mind either..." lust codes his voice now. But, before he goes in to kiss you, his eyes soften a little bit as he drinks in your features. "You're very beautiful..."

You feel the heat rising in your body, you drape one of your legs around him, resting your knee on his hip. "Thank you..."

Peter lets out a soft groan, his hand immediately comes to grip your thigh, encouraging you to press your body against his, and he traps your lips in his with a fiery kiss.

The stubble from his face is a little scratchy, but you don't mind. His tongue is sweet from the wine he was drinking, and you can't get enough. His hands travel a little higher on your thighs and you gasp into his mouth as he pulls you on top of him so you're straddling him with one knee on either side of his waist.

"C'mere..." he purrs.

You lean in closer to him, pressing your forehead against his to try and make your moans more quiet as he grinds your pussy against the bulge in his swim trunks, the soft fabric of your bikini bottoms separating you. The friction is delicious and you reward him with a neverending chorus of his name.

"Peter...."

Peter gives a loud groan, his grip on your hips tightens, this time bucking his hips under your spread pussy, letting you ride the outline of his cock.

"Ffuck....Peter, baby...." you whine.

"Mmm yeah, baby?" Peter lands a sharp spank on your ass in response, making you curse under your breath again. "You like what I'm doing to you?"

"Yes baby, I love it." You bite your lip, closing your eyes. "What if someone sees us, baby?"

"Let em watch.." Peter moans.

"Oh God...don't stop, please." Your moans rise in pitch.

"Fffuck....." Peter breaths out, his hands coming up to grip your breasts while you ride him. "I won't baby...fuck..." The sensation causes him to close his eyes as well. "You feel too good to stop."

You lean over, your lips crashing greedily against his, both of your tongues dancing in each other's mouths, while you grind together. His hands can't get enough and he finally starts to curl two fingers inside your pussy which elicits a sharp cry of passion, Peter playfully shushing you as he kisses your nose.

-----

The rose Miguel is holding falls onto the sand below as he watches you and Peter heavily making out, now engaged in mild foreplay and you might as well start fucking at any moment now due to how hot and heavy the scene is.

It's almost a race with how quickly the jealousy, nausea, and rage rises in Miguel's body, filling him to the brim. He stands there, jaw and shoulders tense. His cock twitches a little at your whines but seethes at the sight of another man's hands all over you. He finally rips himself away, not able to withstand it any longer.

Noir and Jess look at him with raised eyebrows as he sits at the beachside bar after downing 3 shots of tequila back to back. He just sits there, eyes glazed over at the empty shot glasses in front of him for several moments until he leans forward, laying his head in his arms with his eyes closed.

----

To be continued...

#miguel o'hara #miguel atsv #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spotify #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara angst #miguel ohara angst #miguel x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #Spotify

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promptsbytaurie · 5 months

Note

anything with wing clipping. i once tried to do research on it for a fic and,, it is SO angsty

i got u fam <333 (i have way too much brainrot on this bear with me LMAO)

tips for writing ✨wingfics✨

!!please credit/tag me if you use this!! i'd love to see what you write!!

physical differences:

area where wings connect to their back is insanely sensitive!!

feathers falling e v e r y w h e r e

wings are big!! if the wearer hasn't had them for long, or is younger/inexperienced, they're gonna knock shit over

~birb noises~

they're actually really good singers with insane lung capacity, a lot of them are/could be opera singers

thin bones, so they're super light and even though most think it's embarrassing to be picked up so easily there's always One Dude who's like 'carry me everywhere'

smaller birds = smaller people. most wings correspond to a specific species, and hummingbird varieties are notoriously short (though never say that to their face, they will probably murder you <3)

unless the avian is a kind of waterbird (penguins, sometimes eagles) going into water will clog their wings and they could drown!! adding onto this i imagine that avians have special bathtubs and brushes and stuff so that they can properly clean their wings

on the flip side if an avian does NOT clean their wings they can get tangled or matted which a) is super painful b) could impact their flying and c) could cause sickness !!

dislocated wings >:(( this happens about as often as dislocated shoulders do with regular people. this can be caused by a couple things like blunt force, trying to manuever/twist wings in ways they aren't supposed to go, or flying too often/straining wings.

psychological differences:

preening!! it's intimate, but doesn't have to be romantic/sexual. obv there is room for very fluffy and romantic moments but it can be either way

flock!!! it's kinda like a family or a pack

the urge to Make a Nest and Only Let the Flock In

once the Flock is In the Nest then the Flock Will Not Leave Ever

molting!! old feathers fall out to allow new ones to grow in !

molting is basically the bird version of a period except all birds have it once or twice a year. they're more emotional, super sensitive, and extra clingy during molting!!

if an avian gives you one of their feathers it's basically a version of marriage, except it doesnt have to be romantic. its essentially a promise, like a 'we're with each other forever' kinda thing.

just as humans have discrimination, i imagine that avians have it too. more common species like songbirds, ravens, or crows are probably valued in society way less than those like eagles, doves, or parrots, and there could also be stereotypes against species like vultures or condors.

on wing clipping:

in my mind wing clipping is a lot like trimming your fingernails realllly sloppily, except the difference is that you should NEVER clip an avian's wings.

what i mean by fingernails is that the nails themselves don't hurt but if you do it sloppily there are Consequences: clipped too short -> irritated skin. clipped inconsistently -> sharp edges, snags on everything INCLUDING other feathers

huge violation of boundaries/self!! clipped wings -> can't fly. flying is integral to avian health and if they can't fly their mood and mental health will fall drastically.

clipped feathers take a long time to grow back, and therefore clipping has long-term effects. it also damages the feathers themselves (obviously) in ways that sometimes can't be healed

if an avian's wings are clipped their trust goes DOWN and their insecurity goes UP. its likely that if someone else tries to touch their wings they will freak out

clipped wings also make avians more jumpy and paranoid because they've lost their major way to escape/protect themselves: flying away.

angst potentials in wingfics (spoiler: there's a lot):

like i said, clipped wings -> can't fly. write about an avian's first time flying again. (not super angsty but still)

SUPER angsty: write about the actual act of wing clipping.

an avian is neglecting their wing care and tries to hide it.

relationship between a 'noble' avian (eagle, dove, etc) and a 'basic' avian (crow, raven, etc) and society's dislike of the relationship.

or maybe avians are a minority in a human world, and an avian has to hide their wings to be safe.

hope this helped!! <33

#writing tips #wingfic #fanfiction #fanfiction tips #advice #writing advice #wings #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #prompt list #ask #anon ask #anonymous #anonymous asks

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julia-harrys-only-angel · 1 year

Text

january fic recommendations:

fluff:

•home by @daaydreamy

•you learn to crochet by @theshyspy

•labitule by @finelinevogue

•the morning after by @finelinevogue (the whole love island series)

•the haircut by @avatar-anna

• cinema by @foolforharrry

•brasil by @watermelonsugarcry (the whole since 2010 masterlist)

•harry accidentally posts a picture by @gucciwins

•this little love of mine by @p0pstars

•birthday by @avatar-anna

•leather pants by @watermelonsugacry (the whole since 2010 masterlist)

•ripped pants by @harrysfolklore (bandmate!y/n masterlist)

•los angeles XIII by @stylessupremacy

•the first meeting by @harrysfolklore (babysitter!y/n masterlist)

•red carpet by @watermelonsugacry (the whole since 2010 masterlist)

•new years, new family by @chaoticloving

•<3 by @watermelonsugacry (the whole since 2010 masterlist)

•<3 by @harrysfolklore (bandmate!y/n masterlist)

•wedding planning gone wrong by @fetusharryluvr

•first night sleeping over at boyfriend!harry’s house - headcannon by @harrysfolklore

•<3(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) by @gucciwins

•sweet nothings by @pancakes4two

•home for the holidays by @samaraannhan20

•the midnight game show by @finelinevogue

•<3 by @avenging-fandoms

smut:

•glitz and glamour by @enthusiasticharry

•gala after gala by @gucciwins

•the clip by @chaoticloving

•best friend’s dad (part 1) (part 2) by @jarofstyles

•the con artist (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) by @gurugirl

•shy lover by @loversipod

•you’re all i want by @goldenbuckyyy

•learn to knock by @eveningepiphany

•rich (part 1) (part 2) by @lukesaprince

•a delicate thing by @gurugirl

amazing writers that i recommend in general <3

@harrysfolklore

@gucciwins

@avatar-anna

@lovecanyon

@watermelonsugacry

@finelinevogue

@watchmegetobsessed

@erodasfishtacos

@moonchildstyles

@astranva

@gurugirl

@stylesloveclub

@adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy

@shroombloomm

@haaarry

@jawllines

@adoredaylight

@satanhalsey

thank you all writers for writing and posting such amazing stories and content. 🫶🏻

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry #tpwk #fic rec #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #hslot

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justtwotired · 9 months

Note

could you write something in which the reader discovers that regulus has become a death eater, and everything that comes with it ? except they're in a relationship or have feelings for each other !

i love your writing, thanks <3

Yesss, of course! I don’t know what pronounce you’d have wanted but I’m going with a F!reader for this one, you can always ask me to change it ofc🤍

His dorm was empty as they laid cuddled up in his bed. She felt him starting to relax more as he was half asleep. He didn’t notice her fiddling with his sleeve.

She clipped the button of, and then on again. She pulled on it and turned, she didn’t really know what she was doing, she was a bit bored and not tired.

Her eyes caught something under his sleeve and slowly she started to pull the sleeve down as her eyes got big.

Regulus’ half conscious mind suddenly picked up on what’s was happening and shot up, grabbing his sleeve and pulling it up as he got out of the bed.

She did as well. “What was that?” She demanded to know. “Amour, listen-” he tried as he turned to her to meet her hardened gaze. He never told her about his family’s plans, he didn’t know what she was making of the story, but he knew it was bad as she had never looked at him like this.

“Regulus what was on your arm?” She knew what it was, she just wanted to hear him say it, see if he regretted it. “Y/n I promise it is not what you think.” He said as he felt his voice crack and tears started to fill his eyes but he just blinked them away.

“It isn’t what I think? So that wasn’t the dark mark on your arm?” She huffed sarcastically. “Please just hear me out, love.” He took a few steps towards her and she did one step back.

“You have two minutes.” She said and he noticed she herself was really trying to keep the tears looking in her eyes where they where.

“I didn’t want it, alright, I always knew I would be forced to get the mark, I just believed it would be when I turned seventeen, I thought I could run for it- they just took me by surprise last summer.” He looked away from her and she just watched him.

She didn’t know what to answer, she also didn’t know if she should believe him. She blinked and then turned on her heel towards the door. He didn’t waste a second and grabbed her wrist to stop her.

She turned back to him with a small glare. “Let me go, Regulus.” She said trough gritted teeth. “Please say anything else.” It was almost as if he was begging, and for a second, her gaze softened as she had never seen him this vulnerable.

The second didn’t last long as she pulled her arm towards herself in a weak attempt to break free, but they both knew he was much stronger then her. She pulled again and then used her other hand to try and pry his fingers of her.

He took her wrist with the other hand and she suddenly noticed, his grip wasn’t rough at all, he was just holding her almost lovingly.

“Reg, please.” Her voice cracked and she sounded almost miserable, then she looked him in the eyes for the first time since finding out. His grip weakened… and then he let go of her.

“I am so, so sorry.” He whispered and the first tears rolled down his face, her face softened again, never in her life had she seen him cry, she had never see him this vulnerable.

It almost made her pull him in for a hug… almost.

She didn’t know what to do, she wanted time to think, wanted to leave and take a very long walk over the grounds.

“I’m sorry, Regulus.” She said and then left the dorm.

———

On Monday, three days later, she arrived at her history of magic lesson and sat down in her assigned seat, the lesson starting soon after, yet the chair next to her staid empty.

She turned around in her seat and looked at Barty behind her. “Where is Regulus?” She whispered. “In our dorm, he hasn’t left his bed since Friday.” He whispered back.

“What? Has he even been eating?” She asked and he shook his head. “We brought him food but he never ate it, we thought you would know what happened.” Evan decided to take part of the conversation too. “Yeah, he did mumble something about you in his sleep- it was actually the one only time he slept, I don’t think he has slept at all after that.” He said honestly.

Her eyes grew wide and then she sighed. “That absolute moron.” She said and stood up, leaving the class. Not that Binns would find out anyway.

On her way to the dungeons she stopped by the kitchens where she asked the house-elves for some food which they happily provided.

Muttering the Slytherin password, she stepped into the common room and then walked to the sixth years boy dormitory. She opened the door, to which he did not react at all.

“You’re a bloody asshole you know that.” She said and he looked up at her in surprise and shock. “Y/n.” He said with a small sigh and she walked over to his bed. “You can’t just stop eating and sleeping, do you know how bad that is for you? You could have ended up in the hospital!” She scolded as she handed him a sandwich she got from the kitchen.

He just stared at it and then at her. “Well go on, eat it, otherwise I might push it down your throat.” She told him and he hesitated but took a bite anyway. It didn’t take long before it was all eaten.

“I’m sorry about Friday, it’s just- I needed some time to think and hadn’t thought about how unfair it would be to you. I understand that you had no choice, but I guess I was just scared.” She sighed and something in his eyes broke.

“You where scared of me?” He asked, it was the first time he had spoken to her since she came barging into his room. “No! Not of you! Just what this would bring for the future, I was scared for you, scared for what would happen to you.” She admitted and he relaxed a bit.

“I’m sorry for not telling you. I will be alright, Y/n, everything is going to be fine, I promise.” He said and she looked up with a small smile.

“Can you do one thing for me?” She asked and he nodded hastily. “Yes, of course.” He quickly said. “Great, get some fucking sleep you blithering idiot.” She said and he breathed out a laugh.

He pulled her by the arm and made her lay next to him. She cuddled up to him and it didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.

#harry potter #marauders era #regulus black #regulus black x reader #harry potter x reader #james potter #marauders x reader #marauders x y/n #peter pettigrew #remus lupin #sirius orion black #reader finds out about Regulus dark mark #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #female reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 4 months

Note

can i request a conrad fisher fic with ‘santa doesn’t know you like i do’ by sabrina carpenter? thank u smsm i love ur writing

I've been loving Sabrina Carpenter at the moment, thank you for the idea anon <3 It fits right with an idea I had in my list!

Warnings: mention of losing a parent (Susannah)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Dressed in a red sweater and sparkly skirt, you were about to head to your aunt’s house for Christmas dinner. But just as you were reaching for your coat, you saw Jeremiah’s name on your phone screen. A frown formed between your eyebrows as you answered.

‘’Hello?’’

‘’Are you with Conrad?’’

He sounded worried through the phone. You could feel the prayer for a positive answer in his voice, which made your frown deepen.

‘’No. Why?’’

‘’He didn’t come home. He said he would. He promised Dad— He’s not answering my texts or picking up my calls.’’

‘’Maybe he got held back at college because of the snow?’’

Jeremiah denied that supposition. ‘’I don’t think so. I called his roommate at Brown and he said he left last night.’’

‘’Maybe he went to Laurel’s? He’s talked about going to Pennsylvania this winter break.’’

‘’I already called her. We don’t know where he is. He hasn’t talked to anyone in the last few weeks. You’re the only one he talks to. That’s why I thought he might have been with you.’’

A heavy pause hung in the air as you recalled your and Conrad’s last conversations, trying to find a clue of where he was. He talked about finals and living off coffee and cup-o-noodles and how excited he was to eat a home-cooked meal, even if it was mashed potatoes or chicken that wasn’t in a nugget form. The sweater he got Jeremiah for Christmas. His roommate. His mom and the bike he got her last Christmas. It’s still in the garage, at the exact place she left it.

‘’I think I might know where he is,’’ you said.

It was a wild guess, but it was Conrad’s comfort place.

‘’Where?’’ Jeremiah's urgency echoed through the phone.

You shook your head although he couldn’t see. ‘’I’m sorry Jeremiah, but I think it’s best if I go by myself. I’ll call you when I get there.’’

⁂

Armed with your double espresso, you braved through the snowy roads and drove to Cousins. It was a wild guess, but you were confident enough that he was there. It was the place he went to every time he wanted to be with his mom again. That house was Susannah all over. She had handpicked everything that was inside, painted all the paintings on the walls, and placed every little trinket just the way she wanted.

Your family was disappointed that you had to cancel dinner at the last minute, but if Conrad was at the beach house, you couldn’t leave him alone. No one should spend Christmas alone. Especially not after losing a parent.

Propped and clipped to your car’s air vents, your phone screen showed several texts from Jeremiah, all trying to get more information about Conrad. You ignored them all and focussed on the road and taking the right directions.

After three hours, you finally arrived to Cousins. The small town was dark. Most small shops were closed — it was almost 11pm —, barely any houses were decorated for Christmas as most residents only came for the summer.

You pulled in the familiar driveway and parked your car. A light layer of snow coated the grounds, allowing the grass to peek through. The air was crisp, and you could see your breath as you walked up to the porch.

Using the spare key that was hidden under the doormat, you unlocked the door and let yourself in. It was dark and cold as the power was not turned on outside the summer months. The air was a bit stale too from being inhabited.

As you ventured further into the entryway, you could see light coming from the living room — the fireplace. Using that light to guide you, you called Conrad’s name. He had to be there. If he wasn’t, someone else was in the Fishers’ beach house.

The tension in your shoulders dropped when you saw him asleep on the couch, a thick plaid over his curled up body. He looked so small like this. You got closer and gently said his name, not wanting to startle him. Conrad was a light sleeper. He stirred, slowly waking, a mixture of surprise and sadness in his eyes when he saw you.

‘’What are you doing here?’’ Conrad asked, noticing your skirt and sheer tights. He knew it was Christmas eve. You should be with your family, not in Cousins.

‘’Jeremiah called me, he was worried,’’ you explained briefly.

‘’How did you know I was here? I didn’t tell anyone...’’

No one knew Conrad like you did. You were there through the good and the bad — and there was a lot of this bad this past year. You were the one who had brushed his tears at his mother’s funerals. You knew all of his favorite songs and picked up every time he called regardless of the time. You always knew just how to make him laugh.

You sat on the edge of the couch, giving your best friend a soft look. ‘’No one knows you like I do.’’

The smallest smile curled on his lips. ‘’I’m glad you’re here,’’ he admitted, a veil of tears in his eyes. ‘’I thought I wanted to be alone, but it makes me miss her more.’’

Your heart broke and you pulled him in your arms.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802 @CZARINERA @katherinejess @cookielovesbooks-akie

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @bloody-mf-bsc @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise @sickntiredtoo @adrluvh @mymultiveres @Rosekar16 @hopeurokays @amysangrl @hopelessromantic727 @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @arinexeisnotworking @cloudrainy342 @theflcwer @alllriseabove @angelxxrose @angelxxrose-blog @r1vrsefx @sierraluvzz @rodriqos @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @aesthetixhoe

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #the summer i turned pretty imagine #the summer i turned pretty

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verysium · 4 months

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some hcs abt the bllk boys doing modeling shoots as pro-players? (like what they’d model for and the ways they captivate their audiences and stuff)? ty and love ur works btw 💞💞🫡

idk why but this ask made my brain freeze up and refuse to write anything for 3 days, so apologies if this is late anon:

sae would be so done. i mean....he walked out on a literal interview, so what makes you think he won't walk out on a photoshoot? he probably hates the very idea of plastering his face all over billboards and magazines. but his manager said that he was in desperate need of good publicity, especially after that stunt he pulled with the last commercial endorsement. if sae was forced to model though, he'd definitely be as stiff as a board. no facial expressions whatsoever and always sticks to one pose. oftentimes, this involves him facing the wall and only showing half his face. if the photographer wants a full frontal, he's going to have to deal with sae's "i don't want to be here and i'm being held hostage" face. even if sae does try smiling, it looks more like a grimace. the only redeeming quality here is that he is good-looking. if you look at the official art, he doesn't even have to try to get all of you drooling over him. that face card does not decline. like ever. so the shoots usually wrap up pretty quickly because out of the 100 images taken, at least half are going to be usable. he's photogenic from any angle.

kaiser would strike a pose for everything, even his own mugshot. i picture him as that one johnny depp advertisement for dior sauvage. blue lighting. a silk blouse with the top button open to show off a sliver of his sculpted chest. his hair is slicked back with gel, and his knuckles are decorated with silver rings. the tattoo just pulls everything together. if not a perfume commercial, then i think he'd model for adidas or some other german brand (maybe even a beer company if he's old enough). i don't think he has any trouble with the actual modeling part of process. he knows how to flaunt himself. the only issue is that kaiser is a lazy perfectionist. he would show up late to the shoots and then stays even later just looking through the shots and choosing which ones to include. puts a lot of time and effort into things like this. after all, his image and his brand are important to him.

shidou would be sponsored by an energy drink brand. like red bull or monster. if not that, then axe body spray lol. as for modeling, i feel like he wouldn't be able to sit still. probably pulls out crazy poses that piss the photographers off on purpose. it always cracks me up how one of his first appearances in the manga is him being muzzled and restrained in a straitjacket inside blue lock's time-out zone. he's so chaotic. you would have to hold him down and shove the camera into his face to actually get a good shot. i also picture him wearing lots of black leather, maybe even silver jewelry (eg. studs, piercings). and of course, you can't forget the hot pink accents.

isagi would model for family-friendly brands. if not that, then just japanese brands in general. i imagine him doing skincare commercials for shiseido or maybe even participating in a campaign for UNIQLO. as for modeling, he would be awkward at first but then gradually get the hang of it. always thanks the team afterwards and is very mindful of the photographer's suggestions. everyone says he is a pleasure to work with.

rin would model for luxury watch brands like TAG heuer or IWC. maybe when he grows older and further develops his career, he might even become an ambassador for louis vuitton or bulgari. overall, his advertisements are very elegant and professional. only endorses high quality products. never looks at the shots afterwards because he hates looking at his own face. gets somewhat embarrassed when his mama points out his billboards and makes clippings of his magazine covers. he absolutely flipped when a brand suggested that he do a collaboration with his brother. so when this collaboration actually did take place, it was like a repeat of the whole messi-ronaldo photoshoot. they didn't actually meet on set. they were just photoshopped together into the same frame.

barou models for calvin klein. lots of denim and shirtless photos. all of the staff got nosebleeds, and his fanbase went wild when the issue was finally released. there's this one image his fans worship religiously where he's posing in his boxers and there's a clear shot of his abs and happy trail. (he's so hot wtf) there's also another shot that wasn't used cus a million people would've been deceased. he's standing there with his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and wearing nothing underneath his denim jacket. his hair is also down, and his skin is all sun-kissed and golden.

reo models streetwear, and this is canon because he has the drip. honestly, his duality needs to be studied because he can go from high class gentleman to bad boy who wears chains and knuckle rings. he'd try all different sorts of styles, and he'd look good doing it. out of all the bllk boys, i feel like reo gets the most sponsorship deals because of his versatility. he does the styling, hair, makeup, posing, editing, etc. honestly, they need to hire him as a creative director already. nagi would tag along behind the scenes, but he'd end up scrolling on his phone the entire day.

#asks #blue lock #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #sae itoshi #michael kaiser #shidou ryusei #isagi yoichi #rin itoshi #barou shouei #reo mikage #nagi seishiro #bllk #bllk headcanons

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avatar-anna · 1 year

Text

Love on Tour: The Documentary, Part 2

we all know harry is working on a documentary, so this is my take on how young dad!harry would approach it!

and now a little key:

bold and italics: camera directions, or what you would be seeing as a viewer of the documentary in person

just italics: interviewer questions, or people who are speaking off camera

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

Part 1 Part 3

In the interview room with Harry.

“There are some pretty heavy songs on Fine Line.”

Harry scratches his chin and looks away from the camera. “Yeah.”

“You’ve said in the past that you write from personal experience. Where did songs like ‘Cherry’ and ‘Falling’ come from?

“Uh...Not the uh…not the best time of my life.”

Cut to Y/n’s interview.

“Harry is…the most hard working person I’ve ever met. He wants to do everything he does with a hundred and ten percent. Almost to a fault, and there—there were moments where I felt like he was choosing his career over his family. You know, once One Direction went on hiatus, I thought things were gonna be different. I thought we would have more time together as a family, but we started falling into the same cycles. Write, promote, tour.”

Cut to Harry.

“Were you choosing your career over family?”

“I know how Y/n felt back then, and we’ve talked about it at length since then,” Harry says. “I think…I think at the time I only knew one way of having a music career and providing for my family, and it worked, so I almost felt like I had to keep that momentum. After the first tour ended, I came home and we spent time together, but…All I’ll say was it was tense.”

Cut to Y/n.

“I often think the pandemic was a blessing in disguise.”

“Really? Why?”

Y/n looks down at her lap before answering. “Because I was done.”

Cut to clips of Harry in Japan and in recording studios with his team.

Harry’s voiceover: “I’d never felt truly alone until we separated. To some it may seem odd because I was touring so much anyway, but I spoke to my family every day. I don’t think a day had ever gone by that I didn’t speak to Y/n. I wanted to give Y/n space, and I felt so lost, so I just kind of…stayed away. It was so hard. All I kept thinking was, ‘I did this. This is my fault.’ I eventually started writing down how I felt, but…yeah. Not something I look back on with pride.”

Back to Harry’s interview.

“Why talk about any of this at all?”

Harry’s eyes are red and watery, as if he had just been crying. “It was part of this whole journey. It wouldn’t be authentic of me to only share the good parts. Fine Line is introspective. It’s an album about high highs and low lows, so it only makes sense to kind of…express what I was going through to make me feel a certain way while writing.”

Cut to Y/n’s interview.

“What was it like to hear Fine Line for the first time?”

“Jeff told me H jetted off to Japan to write songs for the next album, and I didn’t see him until after it was nearly ready to be released. I wanted him to fight for us, but he just left. It solidified for me how much we needed to take a little time apart and figure out what we wanted. I was…resentful going into it. It felt like his music was tearing us apart, and he went to write more. But…”

Y/n wipes a tear from her eye.

“He…He was hurting as much as I was, and I was partially to blame.”

When asked to elaborate about the children during that time, both Harry and Y/n refused to comment.

Cut to an interview with Jeffrey Azoff, Harry’s long time friend and manager.

“I have a lot of respect for the both of them,” Jeff says. “What the two of them went through together, what Y/n endured all those years. Being a parent is hard enough, add everything else they put up with on top of that?”

Jeff shakes his head.

“But Harry went on a huge tour under your management.”

“An error on my part. And his,” he says. “I think we were so excited to start his career, and as a manager who has a client who loves live performances, it felt like a no brainer. I could tell that H was going to be someone explosive in the music industry, and I let that kind of cloud my vision.”

Jeff also reveals that he has since apologized to Y/n and that they are on good terms.

“So how did you go about promotion for Fine Line?”

“It was tricky, you know, because to the outside world, why wouldn’t H be doing all the talk shows and interviews and things like that? To everyone who didn’t know what was going on, he had all the time in the world and no obligations, but that obviously wasn’t the case.”

“Were there ever conversations to reveal his family to the public?”

Cut to Y/n and Harry in an interview room together.

“We talked about our options moving forward,” Harry says. “But we decided the best way to protect the kids’ privacy was if no one knew I had a wife and kids.”

“Definitely not easy,” Y/n says, but not impossible.”

Clips of Harry on various talk shows (Late Late Show, Ellen DeGeneres, Graham Norton) and at the Jingle Bell Ball, and One Night Only at the Forum appear. Some are of him performing, others are of him rehearsing, and one in a green room with Y/n, Simone, and Collette sitting on a couch.

Harry’s voiceover: “We decided on a couple talk show appearances in places where I could drive home afterwards, and longer breaks between tour destinations,” he says. “I was prepared to hold off on the album release so that I could spend more time at home, but Y/n wouldn’t let me.”

Back to Y/n.

“Keeping him from doing what he loves was never the goal,” Y/n says. “I just wanted there to be a balance. The kids were getting older and had more things going on, and I didn’t want their earliest memories of their dad to be that he was gone all the time. H wouldn’t be the same person if he didn’t have his music, but he also wouldn’t be the same without us. I never wanted him to give up his life for us, but things needed to be different.”

“Global lockdown was certainly different.”

She nods. “I think H saw it as an opportunity to…make up for lost time. It was difficult for obvious reasons. Online learning, keeping the kids entertained all day, staying inside, the toilet paper thing, but we’d never been the kind of family that spent so much time under the same roof before. It was strange, but also really nice.”

Back to Harry.

“You know, obviously I was bummed that I put out this album that I was really proud of and couldn’t perform it the way I wanted to, and there were already so many fans who bought tickets. I felt like I was letting them down too. But at the same time, it forced me and Y/n to share common space after so much time apart. I wasn’t about to take that for granted.”

This was all Harry and Y/n were willing to talk about concerning their separation. They did not say how long they were apart or when they officially mended things.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

In another interview room are four children.

“Can you state your name for the interview, please?”

“Simone Styles.”

“Nicoletta Anne Styles.”

“Maeve!”

When the fourth child doesn’t answer, Maeve does it for him.

“And that’s JuJu.”

“No it’s not!”

“Then say your name!”

“My name is Julian.”

“Do you know what your dad does for a living?”

“He travels a lot,” Maeve says. “Sometimes we get to go with him!”

“Daddy sings onstage,” Julian says.

“And on the radio!”

“He’s a musician,” Simone says.

“Do you have a favorite song that your dad sings?”

They all begin to talk over each other.

“I like Adore You!”

“As It Was!”

“Only because you were in it.”

“Baby Shark!”

“I like his One Direction songs,” Collette says.

“So you know who One Direction is?”

“Yeah,” Simone says while the rest nod.

“Simone, do you remember anything about your dad being in One Direction?”

“Not really. But Mom likes to tell stories about all the cool places we got to go together.”

“What is the coolest thing about your dad?”

“Did he tell you to ask us that?” Maeve asks.

The whole crew laughs.

“No, he didn’t.”

“I like when he plays with my toy cars. Sometimes we make a really big racetrack with, like, loops and stuff,” Julian says.

“I like when he plays tea party with me!”

“I like it when Dad picks me up from school early so we can go shopping together,” Simone says.

Back to Harry and Y/n’s shared interview.

“You do what?”

“It was only a couple of times!” Harry says in his defense.

Y/n gives Harry a stern look before she says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mmhm.”

Harry looks at the camera. “She does this to scare me. Pretends like everything’s fine and then grills me later.”

Back to the interview with Simone, Collette, Maeve, and Julian.

“What was it like being in lockdown together?”

“It was really fun!” Maeve says.

“We played lots of games and did campouts in the backyard and stuff,” Simone added.

“I learned how to ride a bike!”

Collette tilts her head to the side. “Well, it was mostly fun. When Mom and Maeve got sick it was not so fun.”

“I think Daddy was in over his head,” Julian says.

Cut to Harry and Y/n’s interview.

“I was not ‘in over my head.’ We were fine. Better than fine, even.”

Y/n looks at the camera, clearly amused. “He called me crying several times.”

“How did you and Maeve quarantine while you were sick?”

“We took our bedroom,” Y/n says, gesturing between her and Harry. “And they would bring us meals and everything. I was a little worried because GiGi was only a couple months old, but we made it work.”

“Why were you crying so much, Harry?”

“It wasn’t so much. But…I think we’re all used to having Y/n around, and sometimes Simone and Collette would argue, and Julian missed having Maeve around, and you know, was looking after a newborn during all of it. Y/n is truly the glue that holds this family together.”

“He got really good at braiding my hair!”

Everyone laughs at the little voice off camera, which turns away from Harry and Y/n to where Collette is sitting in a director’s chair. Then the camera swivels back to Harry and Y/n.

“She’s right. I am a master at the French braid.

Cut to a home video of Simone and Collette with Harry filming.

“Welcome to our home!” Simone says. She spreads her arms wide as she presents the front room of the house to the camera.

Both Simone and Collette proceed to give a tour of the whole house. They show a kitchen, a home theater, what they call “Daddy’s office,” which appears to be a converted recording studio, and the twins’ bedroom.

“This is my room. I share it with Simone,” Collette says.

Simone shows off the bedroom, which has white walls with pastel accents. Lots of stuffed animals on two beds with princess canopies and a small sofa. There are two rugs on the floor, a white one with a textured pink and purple smiley face and another white one with an orange pattern. A teddy bear bean bag chair sits by one of the beds. There’s a bay window with a small mattress and curtains with hand-stitched cherries on them. “A project completed by yours truly,” Harry says about the bay window bed. “I’ve become quite the handyman during lockdown. And an interior decorator.”

“Dad!” they both cry.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll keep quiet from now on.”

The “tour” ends in Harry and Y/n’s room, where Y/n lays on the bed. Her belly is big, clearly several months pregnant. She smiles as Simone and Collette approach.

“What’s going on here?” she asks.

“We’re giving a house tour!” Collette says as she jumps on the bed. “This is our last stop.”

“We’re gonna send it to Nana and Auntie Gemma and…”

Simone rattles off all the names they plan to send their video to.

“Wow! And I see you have your own cameraman,” Y/n says.

“He’s good, but we have some notes,” Collette says, and Simone agrees.

“That’s it. No more cameraman. I’m the tickle monster,” Harry says.

Simone and Collette scream and run away, and the video ends shortly after that.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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