#it’s cuffing szn
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I want to love you.
Tate Frost x AFAB reader!
Hi babies I’m back with another banger or wtv those YouTube mfs be saying but yeah hii I’m taking another break from Tiktok (Princessofmagix) Lol you should follow I’m pretty and kinda funny! But yeah I recently got back into otome and visual novels and guys when I found Tate Frost..? I went bonkers so I wrote a lil something but guys, hear me when I say:
PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS I’M NOT PLAYING WITH Y’ALL!
Warnings: Noncon, manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, triggering sexual themes, mentions of past trauma!
But yeah enjoy!
•
“You’re fucking crazy.” I spit. His eyes traveled like an elevator down my body, eye-fucking me in the process. You know I have to hand it to them, the people who warn others about manipulative men.
They weren’t kidding, this guy’s seriously an actor, even worse an artist. A con one at that but I couldn’t help but commend his artistry, even as I found myself bound to his bed by ropes and held down for him, like the perfect prey. He eyed me like it too.
The talent was crazy but I think part of me was more mad at myself than him, maybe because I took pride in the fact that I wasn’t naive, well, not as much as expected from a traumatized person.
Not to get too much into detail but I’ve been deceived, later healed enough to start giving out the benefit of the doubt but I wasn’t stupid, not enough to fall for obvious love bombing but THIS was anything but obvious…and yet again I’d been deceived.
Fooled to believe I’d been loved.
Usually, at this point, I would fear that I’d never love again, never trust again, but live? This situation goes beyond my wildest nightmares.
“Can you blame me Sha? You look divine like this…”
My eyes narrowed but his words made me dizzy. He always did, but that’s what love was; a disease. One I’d tolerate though couldn’t stomach but finally for the first time it made me sick, this man was a monster. I understand that perfectly well, yet my body still hasn’t gotten the memo.
He had access to every part of me now but he sat across the room and continued to taunt me.
“I hate you,” I say staring away at a wall
“Well, that’s a shame sweetness, 'cause I adore you~”, He smiled ever so sweetly.
“Shut up.” I glare but he shoots up and grabs my ankles pulling me towards him. I struggle and start to scream but he immediately grips my throat, my eyes widen, not from his harsh grip but from the cold metal I feel against my thigh.
Almost instantly my eyes began to water and I trembled beneath him. He stared down at me, his dominance utterly petrifying, but he wanted to make sure I understood my position, fully grasped the situation I was in.
He then softened his hand. I cautioned my breathing, too afraid that I might accidentally set him off enough to rid me of existence, but he leaned in and pressed his forehead against mine and simultaneously my tears fell.
“I thought you loved me…” I struggled
He pulls back and tilts his head.
“I do love you?” But I scoff
“You’re delusional. This isn’t love.”
“Oh and that’s where you’re wrong sweetness,” He keeps the blade steady but focuses on my eyes.
“Believe it or not I’m honored you decided to trust me enough to be that vulnerable with me. To let me into your past. I’ve listened to you, comforted you…and it’s all been out of love.”
I clenched my teeth and he slowly sunk the blade deeper, enough to scare me.
“And what kind of love equates to threatening to kill me?” I challenge, he smirks.
“Our kind.” He says before pulling the blade and his hand away, but his hand didn’t stray too far as he gently traced the curves of my hip. My breath hitched as I looked up at him.
“You see Sha, the difference between me and all your other relationships is that they didn’t really love you.” My face went cold as ice.
What is he-..?
“MY love for you is overbearing…so much that you can’t even take it. So much that it overwhelms you but,” He sets the knife aside. Leaning down he kisses up my thighs, stalking around my arousal, and I whimpered in anticipation.
“Even if you can’t understand, your body knows that I love you… and it knows I would never lie about that.” He says soothingly, his thick accent laced with allure.
My mind began to shift into fight or flight as his kisses grew closer to my core.
“Tate no please stop..!” And before he could touch me there, he pulled away and let out a sigh before leaving the room.
As I found myself in the room alone my heart began to race, bro this man was out of his damn mind. I took time to breathe but my eyes quickly got to work scanning around his room.
Prior, I never took the time to take in my surroundings the other times I was here.
I was too busy being blinded by his “act”, and my alibi had to be the fact that we never had sex before, he always respected my boundaries and I cherished that about him, knowing I’d never seen that gentleness in anybody else.
But it wasn’t even him actually, and I was currently in the room of a stranger, but if there was one thing I knew for sure, I couldn’t stay here!
Suddenly the door swung open. And there he was…with a deck of playing cards?
“You know I’m quite worried about you Sha, don’t trust me, don’t trust your own body, ” He locked the door before walking over to me
“But I don’t blame you, you’ve been through enough.” He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, reaching over I flinched as he gently wiped my stained cheek, though his touch only made me want to cry again.
“No matter, I thought we’d settle this with a game. Wanna see what your subconscious thinks?” I yanked away from his touch and turned away to the other side of the room, once again making friends with the wall.
“You’re disgusting, I don’t want to play shit with you.” I spat
He chuckled, “I’m afraid it’s the only way sweetheart, besides I think you’ll enjoy what I have in store if you win~”
My brows furrowed as I looked back at him.
Unless it was my freedom he had to be out of his mind entirely if he thought I’d enjoy anything else and right I was.
“I can see you're on edge but I’m being completely honest, I care about you. And because I’m not a total monster I’ll take how you feel into consideration.”
My brows furrowed even more as I stared into his eyes.
Gee, thanks.
“I trust your body so the rules are simple Sha,” He coos moving to sit beside me on the bed.
“I’ll hold up three cards, and if you can pick my favorite, you win.” He began to trail off
If I win…I’ll set you free.” My eyes widened.
Wait what- he can’t be serious… but the way he looked off into the distance, he meant what he said…he was serious, and I let out a shaky breath
“But if you win, I finally get to fuck you, and you’re mine.” My body lost all warmth, dread took hold of my body as I started to hyperventilate. I shook my head and pulled against the ropes.
“Tate n-no don’t do this p-please don’t-!“ He shuffled the deck, eyeing me as I struggled, begging him to have mercy. But it just made him smile.
“I’m serious, are you listening-?!” I screamed out. He put a finger up to his lips effectively hushing me, I knew well then to upset him.
“Tate I-“
“Pick one Y/N.” He immediately cuts me off.
As he held the cards in front of me I quickly broke into a cold sweat.
He could take everything from me… and I wouldn't be able to stop him.
I looked at the cards. I just had to get it wrong and the odds are in my favor but, I’m use to being so unlucky.
“The middle one…” I spoke meekly.
He immediately looked down at the cards, staying quiet. The suspense was killing me and I’d rather it did, anything to take me away from this man. Before I know it he looks up at me and smirks.
“I love you too Sweetness”,
Before I can think he throws the cards aside and crawls on the bed, dragging my hips up to his. I had no time to react as my throat tightened and tears dripped down my cheeks.
Just my luck.
He swiftly pulled down his boxers making my eyes widen, as he ran his tip along my lips.
“S’been a long time comin'” He chuckled aligning with my entrance.
I try once again to pull away, no longer caring about upsetting him.
“No p-please I can’t- you’re too big I won’t be able to take it-!” But it was too late and the pressure quickly entered my body. I winced as he slid in every inch, tears nonstop falling to the sheets as he kept a harsh grip on my hips.
“Fuck!” He hissed
I panted heavily trying to cope with the pain of feeling him so deep against me. I whimpered as he pulled my hips closer, raising one of my legs up to kiss along, as if he was trying to soothe me.
Keeping my leg up he thursted in me once more allowing his dick to reach a newer depth.
“You’re so fucking tight” He groaned lifting my hips to pick up the pace.
He was relentless and rough but I still couldn't adjust to his size as he forced my body to take him repeatedly. My body tensed as surges of pleasure felt like an electric current in my body every time our hips met.
“a-ah~ Tate please-!“
“What’s that baby, such a pretty little thing, do you feel good?“ He teased
I hated him. I swore I did but the way he towered over me, he was so much bigger, stronger than me and it showed in the way he manhandled my body, as if he truly owned me and I was his doll.
He slowed down and buried his face in my neck, focusing on precision rather than speed. He whispered sweet words in my ear, telling me he loved me and I was made for him...and that I was perfect.
I clung to him and held on as he kissed and sucked along my jaw even biting me, but everything felt so gentle, his ease caused my body to relax against him and I whimpered as I allowed myself to fully submit to him.
I would never make it out alive if I didn’t and part of me wanted to accept him. Maybe he did love me and I just didn’t understand. Or maybe being forced away from the rest of society was finally catching up to me? Either way, this was my life now.
As I came to the realization he gently pulled away slightly and wrapped a hand around my throat squeezing lightly, my body tensed pleasurably once again as I closed my eyes taking everything he gave me.
But when I felt him pull back to me I flinch and cry out suddenly as I felt consistent harsh vibrations against my clit. My mouth stayed open as I tried to take in the mass amount of sensation. My breath left me quickly as I arched my back into his growing fast pace.
“Do me a favor and hold this for me baby.”
The tears never faltered, though now they were a symbol of how good I felt, and my eyes fluttered as I looked up to him and the wand he rested above my clit.
“Tate...I’m so close I can’t-“ I cried but he pressed the wand down harder and stared down at me sternly.
“Hold it.“ He repeated.
I couldn’t tell in what way he meant but to play it safe I did both. Taking a hold of the wand I listened to him when he demanded I keep it in place. My body started to shake violently and I felt the overstimulation building up in my body. As I held it in place he let go of my neck and used both hands to hold my hips before thrusting harder.
My head instinctively falls back.
“May l cum please?“ I ask, tears still falling down my face.
“You plan on leavin’ me?” He asks
I started to pant heavily, desperately needing to let go.
“No, no I’m yours I promise I won’t leave, I’ll never leave-!” I struggle, beginning to find myself in a state of hysteria.
“I love you! I promise to stay,” I cry
He immediately takes hold of the wand allowing me to convulse, letting out a loud guttural moan as I came, gripping the sheets.
As I tried to come down from the high, he pulled the wand away and embraces me, thrusting harder to chase his release. I reach up and kiss along his neck trying to return the same feeling he previously gave me but, he quickly bit down hard on my neck trying to quiet himself as he came, pouring every last drop inside me.
He slowed down his thrusts before maneuvering me to lay on top of him and he stayed deep inside.
We soon caught our breath as I laid my head against his chest.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you…” I whispered, the weariness finally weighing down on me as I closed my eyes. He gently stroked my back pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
“I forgive you baby” Was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep.
•
Guys c’mon now I can’t believe y’all let him scam y’all like that, what happened to the original plot of the movie?? But seriously if you guys ever find yourself in a situation like this it’s absolutely not healthy please don’t be afraid to seek help! This is purely fantasy! Lol but yeah thank you for reading I love y’allz <3
Likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!
#tate frost x reader#tate frost#tate frost smut#frostbite#tate frost x reader fanfic#tate frost x reader smut#frostbite scopophobia studios#scopophobia studios#otome#visual novel#tate frost fanfic#it’s cuffing szn#or wtv sza said
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cuffing szn 2 | knj
pairing: fbi agent!namjoon x soft-bodied/plus-sized female reader
genre: strangers to lovers, an attempt at crack??, little bit of angst, smut
summary: All Namjoon wants is some peace and quiet after a long, shitty day at work. Thanks to a party upstairs and Jungkook’s sticky fingers, he’s stuck with you instead.
rating: 18+ for explicit sexual content
word count: 6.3k
warnings: Swearing, always. Accidental spooning. Awkward morning wood. Namjoon’s morning voice 😵💫. Smut in the form of: Kissing. Grinding. Fingering. Clothed sex. Dirty talk. Use of pet name (baby). Mild body insecurity. Light degradation (use of the word “slut” like once or twice). Consent kink if you squint ig??? Lots of checking in. Flirting probably? Namjoon at some point refers to you as a goth girl. Descriptions of a soft body, including stretch marks and how one’s flesh fills another’s hands. Um, size kink I guess because reader likes the fact that our big beautiful brain boy is BIG, but I make no references to a size difference between the two of them. Destruction of hosiery. Very light thigh biting. Oral, female receiving. Fingering. Big Dick!Namjoon. More checking in. Protected sex. Incidental cockwarming. Boinkus Coitus Interruptus. Jungkook’s an idiot but we love him. Namjoon is an idiot and we love him also. Feelings???
notes: Hello! Please note that I have updated the warnings on the masterlist for this fic, including the big smut warnings. Also note that instead of three parts, there are now four. I really love these two and just let them keep talking?? I figured no one would mind! I also prefer editing smaller chunks of writing and this happened to fairly neatly fit into four parts, so I just went with it. ALSO LET IT BE KNOWN I STARTED WRITING THIS WAY BEFORE NAMJOON STARTED ACTIVELY RUINING MY LIFE IN A SUIT WITH DARK HAIR AND I FEEL PERSONALLY ATTACKED BY THE FESTA PICS AND THE PRESS PHOTOS FROM THE WHITE HOUSE??????? LIKE WHY IS HE LIKE THAT??????? Okay I’m done. For now. Part three will be out on June 9! Let me know what you think :)
my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3 | soft-bodied reader essay
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You wake up with heavy arms wrapped around you. For a moment, you wonder how you’ve ended up in bed with your ex, but this person doesn’t smell like him. Not even close. Where he was musk and leather, this new person’s scent is aquatic and woodsy. You decide you like it.
You go to rub your face, but there’s something metallic and cold on your wrist, weighted down with something.
Fuck. Right. Jin and Hobi’s bachelor party. The handcuffs. A kind of cute, self-loathing federal agent with nice hands and a big, broad chest. Couch probably uncomfortable. Laying on stomach versus side.
So much for that.
The light in Namjoon’s bedroom is dim, a gray dawn beginning to filter through the blinds that you hadn’t noticed the night before.
You can’t make yourself pull away. It feels nice waking up in someone’s arms, even if he is a stranger who originally wanted nothing to do with you. You must have rolled over in your sleep, or he had, or something. The way he fits to your back, warm and solid, is a comfort you didn’t think you’d get to feel any time soon.
Your hips and shoulders ache a little, though, just from the way you’ve been laying on them for so long. You try to adjust but, as if waking up like this wasn’t strange enough, you feel your ass brush past something hard, located a little lower than his waist. His suit pants are so thin, they hide absolutely nothing.
Fuck.
Your attempt at getting more comfortable makes Namjoon groan. It rumbles through his chest and into the back of your ribcage. He pulls you closer, the length of your spine flush with his front. His hot palm spreads over the swell of your stomach, before fisting the fabric, as if holding tight means you can’t easily brush him away. His erection is pressed into your ass now, and for a moment, the stillness of the room makes you question whether Namjoon’s woken up or not. You wonder if he knows how hot you feel under your clothes, the constriction of your tights becoming almost unbearable.
Do you want him? Is that what this feeling is? Or is it just because you feel wanted, feel necessary, with his arms around you?
You should wake him. If you wake him, the morning wood will go away after he’s talked for a bit. You don’t even have to mention it to him; it’s natural and he’s young and seems healthy enough, gruff attitude not withstanding. He doesn’t have to know how nice it felt to wake up being the little spoon instead of waking up alone.
You brush your hand over his. It relaxes, the fingers spreading over your flesh again, and moving to your hip to rest. Your entire body throbs as he brushes his finger tips sleepily over your dress, the skin beneath pleading to be touched.
You need to get out of here. You need a cold shower and coffee and an evening spent with a raunchy novel and your vibrator. Apparently it’s been too long; mere brushes with his hands are making you scream internally for more attention.
“Namjoon,” you say softly.
For a moment, nothing happens, but then you feel his chest expand as he takes in a great breath and lets it out, the hot air tickling your neck.
“Morning, baby,” he says, rubbing his palm into your hip. His voice is impossibly low, breathy and dry with the morning.
You’re so surprised at what the words themselves, let alone what they sound like in /that/ voice. The temperature under your clothes inches up even further, you’re ashamed to admit. This fucking dry spell doesn’t need more heat in the mix. All it’d take is an errant spark and your body would be set aflame.
“I … I’m sorry. For a minute I thought—”
“It’s okay. I woke up a bit disoriented too.”
“Mm,” Namjoon grunts in response. And yet he doesn’t pull away from you; you can still feel how hard he is against your ass, how hot his hand feels at your hip. What you wouldn’t give for him slip his hand beneath your clothes. He speaks again:
“You alright? You seem to be breathing hard.”
“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.” A lie. You had. You’re so fucking horny that you can hardly keep it together. You can’t make your focus move from the bulge still pressing into you from behind, the large hand on your hip, the broad chest at your back. Has he not even noticed how your bodies fit together?
“You seem tense.”
“Probably just slept funny.”
For a moment, neither of you speaks; you wonder if he can hear you trying to breathe more slowly. But then he speaks again, more clearly, still keeping his voice low.
“Look. I don’t know how to ask this without sounding presumptuous. If I’m wrong, you can tell me to fuck off and we’ll go find Jungkook to get my fucking cuff keys and never see each other again. But … is there a chance you’re as horny as I am right now?”
Your heart’s pounding, the blood rushing through your ears. The word comes rushing out before you can hardly think. He’s so grumpy most of the time that you just want to see what his face looks like when he’s actually enjoying something. You want that something to be you.
“Yes.”
You want this. You want him so badly. You hardly know him but all you want is every inch of the cock poking your ass buried inside you to the hilt.
His entire body has stiffened behind you. He’s trying not to coax you into anything, to ply you with sweet touches so that you might say yes. He wants an answer from you, and not from you under his finger tips.
“Do you want to help each other out with this?”
“Please. Please, Namjoon,” you plead. That’s all it takes for him to seize your hips and start rocking his erection into your ass.
“Thank fucking god,” he breathes, his lips on your neck, fingers digging into your flesh. “I haven’t woken up this hard in months.”
“I can’t even remember the last orgasm I had without a vibrator involved,” you quip back.
“Is that a challenge?” Namjoon growls. He’s already reaching for the hem of your dress, tugging at the cuffs connecting you as he starts to push it up.
“And if it is?”
As his hands tug your dress hem up and start slipping under the waistband of your tights, he uses the leverage to press you harder into his hips. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Talk to me.”
“I just want to forget all my shit for a little while,” you gasp. His cuffed hand has dug beneath your tights, the steel cold against your hot skin. Your own cuffed hand is over his, guiding him down to find your clit as he continues to hump you from behind.
You wish you could see how fucked out he was. What you wouldn’t give to kiss those full lips which had been pressed into a thin line of irritation for so much of the night before. The way his mouth feels on your skin is addicting; each lick and suck he presses to your neck has your body singing with arousal.
He starts working your clit, pressing gentle circles around it as he groans into his thrusts. His other hand, the free one, is trying to rub at your breasts, but he gives up and spreads his fingers wide at your collar bone.
“Fuck,” you moan. “Like that, please.” He’s finally settled into a rhythm that feels more tantalizing than your own fingers have been able to be; their length means he can sink further into your folds, and the sensation has your head swimming.
The movement of his lips tickles your ear. “Did you wake up this wet?”
“Maybe?” you breathe. You’re so out of your element right now; the only thing that helps you feel less so is the fact that Namjoon’s implied he’s also experiencing a dry spell.
“Are you into degradation?”
“S-sure, just don’t call me fat,” you stutter as he presses into your clit a little more. This is the most intoxicated you’ve felt in months.
His laugh is low, warm in your neck as he nips at your skin. “Your body’s amazing, baby. I just really love that you’re such a slut for me even with your clothes on.”
The moan escapes you before you can even think to stop it. “Why is that so hot?”
“I really don’t know but I’m glad you like it,” he laughs with a huff. He’s sounding progressively more wrecked, his body so hot against your back that your dress is beginning to stick to you. “I need more, do you need more?”
“Fuck, please.”
Namjoon pulls away. For a moment, nothing happens, but then you feel his left hand, the cuffed one, take yours and lace his fingers between your own. You turn to your back, and he settles easily above you, between your spread legs. The very look on his face makes your entire body throb. His eyes are hooded and intense; as his gaze flits between your eyes and your lips, you feel more naked than when he’d had his fingers beneath your clothes. You can’t take it any longer.
“Kiss me.”
He’s begun to grind into you, supporting his weight with his one arm as he gently holds your hand. Up until now he’s seemed serious, but your demand makes him smile.
It’s the first time you’ve seen him let his guard down like that; you want to melt into the bed. This hardass has a smile like this? With dimples and everything? You could scream with frustration. Why the fuck is this handsome man working for the FBI when he could be a fucking model instead?
When he kisses you, all of your previous thoughts are obliterated. The way his tongue feels against yours, hot and wet and /rough/ as it fits into your mouth, is the only thing that matters. Nothing else is of consequence except the way he responds to you, and how you respond in kind. He pulls away with a nip at your bottom lip that makes your whole body pulse.
It’s complete bullshit what he looks like with his already full lips flushed and shiny from kissing you. That look again, the one of hunger; he’s almost hard to look at. It’s even harder to be looked at like that. You can’t imagine what you must look to him, rumpled and lumpy, skin dry from a night in a strange bed. Suddenly, you can feel yourself coming down from the high of being wanted.
“What?” he teases. Those fucking dimples again. “Kiss not up to your standards?”
“No, it was—” Revelatory? Mind melting? “It was good, I promise.”
The dimples fall away. “Then why do you look … uncomfortable?”
“I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just …”
You’re not even sure what to say. This is just a lot. This is all very out of your comfort zone, even though every cell pulsing with hormones is telling you this is the best thing that’s happened to you in months. “This is a lot. I don’t normally do shit like this.”
He’s stopped rutting his hips into yours, but he’s still holding your hand, still holding himself above you, even as he lets the firmness of his abdomen settle into the softness of yours. He’s still hard underneath his suit slacks but he’s acting as if he’s not. His eyes won’t leave your face; you can’t look away, even though you want to.
“Do you want to stop?” Namjoon’s voice is quiet and kind, his words carefully chosen so as to not sway your decision. “It’s okay to want to stop. We don’t have to do anything if you’ve changed your mind.”
It’s hard to cover your face with embarrassment when he’s still holding one of your hands. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.
“I’m sorry. I’ve fucked the moment up, haven’t I?”
“There’s nothing to fuck up. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what? You’re really hot and this is convenient and—”
“You’re hot.”
You scoff. “Not as hot as you.”
“I disagree.”
You feel like you’re short-circuiting. “Did you not hear them calling you a daddy last night?”
“Do you not see you in this dress?” Namjoon sputters. His thumb is rubbing into the skin on the back of your hand gently, but he says nothing else.
“I’m wearing tights,” you say, as if that’s supposed to convince him of something. “Not really hot girl shit or whatever.”
“I’m sure you have your reasons,” he shrugs. “The goth girl thing kind of does it for me, I guess.”
“I’m not goth. I just like wearing black.”
“And it looks great on you.”
“You’re really talkative in the morning, you know that?”
“When you wake up with a throbbing erection it kind of kicks you into gear, babe.”
He doesn’t register the pet name for a moment, but then he blanches. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be so …”
“Familiar?”
“Yeah. That’s the second time I’ve done that.”
“Third, not that I’m counting. Is it weird that I kind of like it?”
Namjoon thinks for a moment before shrugging lightly. “I kind of like it too. I like using it. It’s been a while.”
“Same.”
“And, I don’t know, it feels natural calling you that.”
“It feels natural being called that. It sounds good in your voice.”
“Are you saying you like my voice?”
“Maybe.” You can feel yourself heating up again with his teasing.
“And why’s that, baby?”
Oh, he is definitely teasing you. Damn it, he’s hardening up again, you can feel it. The teasing works both ways and you hate how thrilling it feels.
He takes your beat of silence as hesitation. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Still want to forget everything for a bit?”
“Yeah. We both should, just for a little while.”
He begins to flex his hips into yours lightly, making your legs spread further open.
“What do you like?” he asks suddenly.
“I’m not really picky. I like talking, I don’t mind it little rough, don’t love a ton of eye contact. Simple stuff.”
“Good thing I’m a simple man, then. How do we feel about these tights?” He’s fully hard again, his face beginning to look a little flushed. You’re blown away by how his rumpled white shirt stretches across his arms and chest, rippling beneath his empty shoulder holster.
“I’m tired of wearing them? Why?”
“Kind of want to rip them off you with my teeth.”
He says it so casually, and yet your entire body throbs underneath his, pulsing with want.
“Fuck, do it.”
He drops his face to yours to steal a wet kiss, nipping at your lip again, harder this time. You gasp as he pulls away, the feeling of his teeth startling you in the best way. His hands start moving down your body, brushing over every dip and swell to start pushing your dress up. Your own cuffed hand helps, pulling it as he pushes, and suddenly, you’re bared to him.
You’re a little too riled up to feel self conscious, but you can feel the way the elastic waistband is cutting into your middle. If you weren’t so hot and needy, you might feel kind of gross about it. If Namjoon notices or cares, his eyes betray nothing. Instead, he’s looking at you with such intensity that you’re not even sure how you’re still in one piece. All you want to do is fall apart for him.
He looks like he wants to rip you apart and not the tights. After a moment, however, he abruptly grabs the shitty spandex-nylon blend at your belly and pulls /hard/ with both hands. He tears them right at the center seam with massively arousing ease. With a few more tugs, he’s pulled the two legs apart, separating the fabric so he has access to your center.
The sound of the rip will be seared into your mind for weeks after.
His voice is dark, husky, low with want. “You should buy better tights. These were too easy to ruin.”
“Thought you said you were going to use your teeth—”
You don’t get to finish the sentence before he’s lowering his head to nip gently at the soft expanse of your stomach, looking you straight in the eye as he goes. You look away; it feels too intense as he trails nips and kisses down to your core. He’s gentle with the skin, as if he knows that the stretch marks need to be handled with care. Using his teeth like that just heightens every touch so much more. You find yourself gasping as you clench around nothing. He smiles to himself as he pulls away.
He’s straightens up and sits back on his heels, his cuffed hand still holding yours. Your breath hitches as he bends over and takes the torn edge of hosiery in his teeth. The way his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your upper thigh sends a tremor through your body; it runs so deep that your vision swims. His hands brush against your flesh, holding your leg straight as he begins to pull the hosiery up and away, first over your thigh, and then over your calf, using nothing but his teeth.
Are you supposed to be breathing right now?
Once he’s removed the ruined tights from one leg, he moves to the other. Instead of taking the ripped edge in his teeth, he nips and sucks at your flesh we he reveals it. His fingertips skate up your skin, over every soft expanse and rough patch he finds, each inch he reveals deserving of the same caress as the last. His lips are plush against your inner thigh, but his gaze is hard when he looks at you.
“Is this alright?”
“Yeah, have you been …” You’re not sure how to ask what you know you need to ask.
“Tested since my last sexual encounter?” Namjoon’s tone is almost business-like, and it makes you shy.
“Yeah, that.”
“Yeah. All clear. You?”
“Yes, and I’ve got an IUD.”
“Great, going to take these off then.”
He leans forward and hooks his fingers over the waistband of your underwear, pulling it the rest of the way down your legs with his right hand. He tosses it over his shoulder before leaning forward to kiss you.
Fuck, he’s an unreal kisser. It’d be annoying were it not so overwhelming. Every time your mouth moves, he reacts, but it’s such a close reaction that it almost feels like a dance instead; you’re just not sure who’s leading and who’s following. Your heart has begun to race anew and you’re not sure if it’s from his lips or the nerves. And you mean that in the very best way possible.
For a moment, you think this is it. He’ll fuck you and it’ll feel good, but it won’t be anything more than that. Not for you, at least. When Namjoon’s lips slip away and start kissing down your jaw to your neck, and then your collar bone, and then straight back down to the exposed skin of your abdomen, you realize he’s got other plans.
“Namjoon, you don’t—”
“Do you want this?” he asks, his mouth moving against your flesh. You don’t dare look down at him; his tone is low and raspy enough that you know his gaze will be devastating.
His kisses have been so skilled that you can’t help but wonder what else his mouth can do. “I do.”
“Then relax, sweetheart.”
He tugs lightly on your hips as he wraps his arms around your legs, dragging the hand still attached to his to rest on your mound; your own hand rests close by. The motion brings his lips to your heat.
Immediately, his tongue finds your center, sucking and laving at it until you can’t fight the moan building in your lungs. Namjoon takes the hint. His hold on you with his arms tightens, his fingertips dimpling into your sumptuous flesh.
“Be loud for me, let me hear what you like.”
His tongue fits perfectly between your folds, dragging against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, just enough so it feels like it’s almost too much. Soon, he’s pressing his face into you with a groan.
“You’re so wet for me, baby.”
He sucks suddenly, centered right over your clit. It toes that delicate line between pain and pleasure, quickly fading into unquestionable delight as he presses into you with the flat of his tongue. Wow. Just—
“F-fuck,” you breathe, the words breaking apart into pants as they come from your lungs. Waves on a shore. Lightning hitting some tall, vulnerable thing. Time and the inevitable.
The sounds of him sucking at you, running his tongue through your hot flesh, border on profane. It’s as if he’s bent on tempting every ounce of blood he can to drift to your cunt with just the friction of his face against it. With it, he also pulls cries of ecstasy from you. You can’t even try to keep quiet, not with the way he’d lavishing attention on you.
You risk a glance down between your legs, over the soft rises of your breasts and belly; what you see has you tightening your core around nothing. His eyes are closed, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration, his head at the slightest angle as he works. You’d not noticed how thick his hair is before, and it’s taking everything you have not to run your fingers through it and pull.
Without warning, he looks up at you, his eyes hooded and dark with lust. He groans when your eyes meet. The sensation has you seeing stars as your body surges with arousal. He pulls away from your cunt with a smack, his eyes falling back down to his work, and you let your head fall back with an airy whine.
That’s when you feel the press of his fingers pushing inside you. Two perhaps, long and lithe and eager while still being gentle as they start to drag against your hot walls. You feel him suck at your clit once again before swearing.
“Fucking tight, baby. So fucking tight and pretty.”
The profanity makes you squeeze around his fingers. You’ve never had an orgasm build up like this before. The pressure is swiftly welling within you as you writhe beneath his tongue.
“I’m close,” you whimper. “Please—I’m so close.”
Namjoon hums and adjusts the way he’s thrusting his fingers into you, trying to stroke the soft part of your front wall while he laves at your clit; he finds it with little trouble. It won’t be long now. Every muscle in your body is pulled taut, ready to be plucked and sing. And yet, not a single sound escapes your lips as you focus on which brick to pull from the wall to bring it all crashing down.
It could be seconds, it could be minutes, and then none of it matters anyway because suddenly your heart is pulsing in rhythm with your cunt as it squeezes around his fingers. You cry out with a high, fractured moan. The steady contraction practically squeezes his fingers out, and yet he seems reluctant to pull away, softly licking you through the high.
“So pretty for me, such a good girl for me,” he murmurs into your flesh. It almost seems like he's reveling in the high as much as you are.
It takes you gently tugging at his hair to get him to stop. You can’t even speak; you’re a fucking mess. He plants a kiss on the inside of your thigh as you shiver, still feeling the reverberations of your orgasm.
His cuffed hand reaches for yours and gives it a squeeze as he repositions to a squat between your thighs. His shirt is wrinkled over his heaving chest, the shoulder holster still firmly holding to his torso. The thin wool of his trousers is doing nothing to hide the strain of the erection beneath. Your eyes trail up his body to his face.
He looks fucking wrecked. His brow is furrowed, and the bottom half of his face is wet and shiny with you. His eyes are so intense, you can almost feel them running touches up and down your form like he might use his fingers or tongue. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and you feel yourself squeeze around nothing, even as you tremble beneath his gaze.
His hand drops yours as he tries to lean over to his nightstand without tugging too much on you. You hear the clatter of a drawer and the soft rustles of plastic, and suddenly he’s back in view.
“I know you said you’ve got an IUD, but—” He stops for a moment, squinting to read the expiration date on the condom wrapper. “But I don’t want to assume and I figure it’s easier clean up …”
You’re trying not to think about the tiny XL that flashes from the foil in the low light. He looks big, trapped behind his pants as he is, but he can’t actually be big enough to need the next size up for a condom, right?
“You okay?” he suddenly asks. His voice is still low, but his eyes are more clear. His concern has shaken away some of the intensity. “We can stop if this is too much.”
“I’m fine,” you say quickly, but you don’t miss the double meaning of his statement. “XL, huh?”
Namjoon smiles almost shyly. “They’re more comfortable, if that’s what you’re asking.”
You’re not sure what you’re asking either, but you reach up to help him start undoing his belt. You need to know what you’ve gotten yourself into.
Once he’s pushed his clothing down, you’re less concerned for your bodily health, and more intimidated about the fact that he’s large at all. Largest you’ve ever personally encountered, but it’s not like you’ve left a long string of lovers in your wake. It’s a small sample size of people, and Namjoon’s just brought the average size up a little more than expected.
His breath hitches as his own fingers wrap around his length. You watch, tantalized, as he strokes himself a few times, groaning softly under his breath. Carefully, he rips open the foil and rolls the condom on. You watch this too, wondering what it’s going to be like to feel this cock push inside you.
Suddenly, Namjoon’s kissing you hungrily, pressing you back into the mattress. You can taste yourself on his skin, and it makes you sigh into his mouth. Your cuffed hand is holding his, stretched above and over your head so that he can lean on his elbow comfortably. He ruts his hips into your core, just enough to keep the excitement up. He shifts a little, and you feel his fingers gently, but blindly, running through your folds, trying to press inside you once more.
“If you’re trying to prep me, that’s fine, but I’m not that delicate,” you say. The words sound soft and airy as he begins to thrust gently. “I own several dildos, you’re not that big.”
Alright, fine, that’s more of a bluff. But still, you can take it. Penetration is ninety percent confidence, and you’re confident you can take his definitely larger than average cock. Hopefully.
His lip quirks, but he reaches down to guide himself into you anyway. As he does, you realize what the other ten percent of penetration is: just fucking taking it.
For a moment, it’s like the breath has been sucked out of your lungs. The condom was a good idea; the glide of the lubricant makes it that much easier for him to fit himself into you, however tightly. He’s careful with you, using a few small yet incendiary thrusts to slowly get you used to the adjustment. It’s almost like he’s holding his breath as he presses in. When he’s fully seated, he lets himself groan sinfully into your neck.
“Fuck.”
“God, y-you’re—”
Abruptly, the bedroom door slams open, and whoever’s invading the quiet, heated space is shouting with stilted exhuberance.
“YESSSSSS sEcKsY nAeMcHyOoNNN. You’re finally getting laid, my guy!”
You can’t see whoever’s burst through the door; Namjoon has flattened himself against you and has covered your head with his arms and torso as best he can. His body is still hot against yours, his breath still warm against your neck, his cock still rock hard inside you, but the moment lasts for hardly an instant before he’s lifting his head and shouting:
“KOOK, GET THE FUCK OUT.”
“Alright, damn, fuck me I guess. Or rather, fuck y’all? Joon, my bro, those squats at the gym are working, love to see it.”
“GET OUT, YOU FUCKING—”
“I’m going, I’m going, calm your big muscle boy tits, I’m going.”
You hear the door slam, and Namjoon relaxes visibly, his head dipping into the crook of your neck with a sigh. Your left arm is still stretched above your head, holding his hand, but your right is unoccupied. You start gently running your fingertips over the back of his neck. He hums in approval before lifting his head to give you a quick kiss.
It’s almost more of a peck, really, but the gesture feels odd nonetheless. It seems intimate, even as you feel his dick already starting to soften inside of you. The moment’s passed, and yet, the intimacy hasn’t. It’s confusing; this wasn’t supposed to be about feelings or involve them. This wasn’t supposed to be that kind of intimate; it was supposed to be an act of convenience, and nothing more.
And yet, you still feel drawn to him, just as you’d been drawn to him at the party last night. You hate to admit it, but there’s a chance that the sex, albeit partially unsuccessful, has just heightened that initial attraction. It’s strong enough that you can’t ignore it. The phenomenal head hasn’t helped you keep your wits clear either.
Namjoon rolls off you gently, trying not to twist your arm or his in the process. With one hand he helps you pull your dress hem down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. His eyes, so big and brown to begin with, still have an edge to their gaze as he watches your body become hidden to him again.
The two of you rise from the bed, one after the other, and you follow closely as shuffles his pants and boxer briefs back up his thick thighs, taking off the condom as he goes. Your hand brushes over the fabric as he zips the fly and fastens the button.
“Everything good?” he asks quietly. It’s not cold, or ill-intentioned even, but you still want more from the question than he is likely offering. It’s time to steel yourself, you suppose; to wean yourself off the feeling of his flesh pressing into yours, however brief the experience may have been.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you reply softly. You’ve not even registered the embarrassment of being interrupted. You’re still working through the fact that you want to see this man again and you don’t know if he’ll want anything to do with you once the cuffs are gone.
You want to ask him if he’s okay, where his head is at … but none of it seems like the right thing to say right now.
“Are you—” It suddenly hits you that you really really need to pee, and you’re sure Namjoon does as well.
“Am I …?”
Fuck, he’s smiling at you again. That fucking dimple is just right there. It’s not appropriate to kiss him right now, is it?
“Are you alright? Like is everything going to be alright right with your … nuts?” Better to start making this weird than let it get serious.
“My … nuts?”
“Excuse me, I’ll use more clinical language. Will your testicles be alright?”
Namjoon cringes, and then laughs when he sees the wide grin on your face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Blue balls aren’t a thing. And for all you know, I’m into edging.”
The accompanying eyebrow wiggle at his own joke makes you full-on laugh, but it doesn’t erase the chemically-fed yearning settling into your abdomen. No matter. This will all be over soon.
&&&
“I still can’t believe the key was in your fucking belt the eNTIRE TIME.”
“Kook, don’t you have a hangover you’re late for?”
“Woke up still drunk, baybieeeee. I’m good for another hour or so before I start getting dragged to the underworld. I’m gonna need an IV drip and I trust you’ll provide.”
“So I’ve got an hour until you leave me alone. Is that what you’re saying?”
“What, gotta wait for me to pass out before you go tug one out in the shower? That’s literally never stopped you before, you coward. I can hear you moaning every morning through my bedroom wall.”
Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. He can feel the tension headache coming on already, the weight of the night sagging heavily against his skull. Jungkook banging shit around as he sets about making the customary Saturday morning pot of coffee is not helping.
He feels terrible in other ways too.
Jungkook hadn’t been lying when he’d tossed the handcuff case to him; there were no keys to be found inside. Kook had thought it was normal because of the “obvious security issues.” He thought Namjoon kept the key on his person and would just take them off after leaving. The asshole had thought nothing of the prank, but thought it was hilarious that his roommate had forgotten he had the key on him the whole time.
You’d teased him incessantly after he’d realized the key was in a hidden pocket inside of his belt, but there was something else beneath the amusement as well. You looked put out somehow, and it’s bothered him since you left.
Did you think he’d lied about not knowing where the keys were?
Namjoon doesn’t have the opportunity to linger on the question, because Jungkook is sliding into the seat next to him at the kitchen table. The hangover smell is coming off of him in waves, and Namjoon recoils.
“You smell disgusting.”
“Well, you smell like sex so—”
“Two very different smells.”
“Yes. Yours is objectively better, but like, also still kind of gross. Like dude what’s that shit on your—”
“You literally got a lap dance from a stranger last night.”
“Hey! Mr. Grumpy-gills! We do not shame sex workers in this house!”
“I’m not shaming anyone, asshole. You’re shaming me while I’m stating a fact. You, on the other hand, smell like two or three sweaty humans and a wet dog went for a swim in a liquor cabinet.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. Tae’s dog was very needy last night. Tell you what, though, Yoongi’s a great kisser.”
Namjoon thinks about how your lips felt against his, how they felt between his teeth, against his neck. “That’s great, Jungkook. Good for you.”
“Was Y/N a good kisser?”
Yes. “That’s not any of your business.” For fuck’s sake, why hasn’t this asshole passed out yet?
“I made out with a hot guy who happens to be a stripper last night and told you as much but you won’t tell me anything about your escapades?”
“Walking in us wasn’t enough?”
“NO. No, it was not! All I got to see was your ass. Which! Again! Those squats are doing wonders, and you should be proud of your hunky physique.”
Namjoon’s face is in his hands now. He can’t even suppress the annoyed groan.
“What?? I’m glad it’s getting some use. Fucking finally.”
“Jungkook, is the coffee ready?”
“Just about. So was she a good kisser? What did she feel like around your monster dong? Was she a good cuddler? I know how you value your post-fuck cuddling, and I want that to be something your romantic partner appreciates as well.”
The image of you, spread out beneath him, looking fucked out from the orgasm he’d just pulled from you, flashes before his eyes. Your lips are parted, your eyes glassy. Your dress is rumpled, pulled up past your hips. And then there was the way you’d looked at him when he’d finally revealed his own flesh. He can feel the blood stirring in his abdomen and trying to head south just thinking about it.
“Joon, you good?”
Namjoon’s focus snaps back to the table in front of him, where Jungkook’s set a mug of coffee in front of him. The steam wafts up in lazy tendrils, and for a moment, he’s distracted again.
“Alright, so whatever you managed to do before I ‘interrupted’ was good, apparently, because that’s the only legitimate reason for you to be ignoring my questions right now.”
Namjoon takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Yeah, she was great. It was all really great.” More than great, really, but he’s not sure how to actually say it. All he can see in his mind’s eye is you.
“Sooooooo, hope I’m not too late on this. Did you get her number?”
Namjoon’s blood runs cold.
Fuck.
“Yeah okay, so hold that thought, coffee smell’s making me wanna vom, brb.”
He hears his roommate scramble away, but only vaguely. His ears are ringing with his own stupidity. Underneath it all, he can still hear your sighs, and your soft words, and even the less soft ones from you’d said at the party.
It would be like this, wouldn’t it? It would be you that he missed out on a second chance with.
Perfect. This is just … perfect.
Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)
©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.
posted: 6.2.2022
#btshoneyhive#namjoon fic#namjoon fanfic#kim namjoon fic#kim namjoon fanfic#knj fic#knj x reader#knj x female reader#namjoon x female reader#namjoon x reader#namjoon x soft-bodied reader#namjoon x plus-sized female reader#didn't need joon serving his cuffing szn self today but it's FINE#back on my delulu for namjoon bullshit
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He is actually a teddy bear I want to sit on his lap
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just a heads up mutuals i have the vid and it is knocking my immunocompromised ass out. wont be as active these couple of days, but pls feel free to tag me in stuff u want me to see and respond to when i am! 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾
#cant even write bc joint pain but i am thinking up a lot of sick miller hcs#just so sad bc i got vaxed like two weeks ago and wear masks all the time bc i KNEW covid would be bad for me#and now i have to miss so much work and ill have no money for the holidays bc i dont get paid for breaks yet#i probably got it from one of my coworkers or my kids#but i also couldve easily picked it up by all the people that dont decide to get vaxed or mask up#bc they think covid is just normal now#when its killing people and causing longterm respiratory and brain damage in people and kids 🤪#but hey its cuffing szn am i right#to mutuals#covid
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who’s gonna be the rikki to my emma <\3
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It’s cuffing Szn
#cuffing season#cuffing Szn#lance barber#young sheldon#young sheldon edit#george cooper#George Cooper Sr
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A BIG DAY FOR MY GIRL RINA SHE’S FINALLY CUFFED 🥹🎉
#congrats bestie 😭#so happy for her oml#when is it my turn#it’s really cuffing szn for us ‘00s 😴#karina#aespa
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need 2 be flirted with or else i'll die. ok gn dash
#signed fawn#sorry to be melodramatic on main#its cuffing szn and im yearning#yearning i say!!!!!#it does NAWTTT help that i got over the last crush i had and miss having a crush lol
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did you see the trailer for season 3?❤️
I DID!!!!
it looks great and like a shit ton of things are going to happen ((which also is kinda interesting bc wanna know how they’re gonna make it all happen bc it seems like a lot)), but the season looks like it’s gonna be a good one, drew starkey looked hot ((and then no sign of jiara so yay))
#anon#answered#i truly am not a jiara stan#like let them be platonic soulmate besties#they don’t need to date 😭#also not noted: jj looked v hot and like a thicc boy 🤤 it’s cuffing szn yk
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CLOSE TO YOU // JJK
it should've been easier than this, right?
+
in which oc and jungkook sleep together and he can't get over it
navi | m. list | ask me ! | taglist is closed
pairings: goofy jungkook + uptight oc
au/genre:
uni au
friends with benefits
fluff & crack
warnings:
implied + actual smut (x)
toxic behaviour (it's a process)
parts: 10/10+ [ completed 2024/01/28 ]
1: rizz
1.5: ah, shit (x)
2: cuffing szn
2.5: stfu
3: woof
3.5: coffee (x)
4: conceided
4.5: say it (x)
5: drunk
5.5: worst behaviour
6: truth or dare
6.5: baby (x)
7: ice cream
7.5: the parilla leaf
8: uno reverse
8.5: exhiled
9: us
9.5: laundry (x)
10: time
10.5: love (x)
end.
+ halloween extra
+ unhinged extra (1)
+ unhinged extra (2)
+ unhinged extra (3)
+ falling in love extra
+ clingy extra
+ yuna/tae/joon extras
ongoing
update schedule is undecided atm !
#bts fic#bts social media au#bts smau#bts fake texts#bts fic rec#jungkook smau#jungkook fic#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook scenario#jungkook imagine#jk x oc
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smitten: y/n (reluctantly) agrees to go to jimin's big halloween bash and she forgot how much she actually hated parties
➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader
➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook and smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boohoo angsty wattpady fic of your dreams!! the pining and yearning is off the charts!! jimin’s still an asshole but what’s new!!
➺ wordcount; 9.2k
➺ summary; putting on a smile while watching ji-eun cuddle up to jungkook is already hard enough, but when y/n is (reluctantly) invited to jimin’s massive halloween party, she can’t help but even more out of place.
➺ what to expect; “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”
➺ currently playing on cee.fm; favourite crime [olivia rodrigo]
➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]; part two [the incriminating note]; part three [the date]
»»————- 👻 ————-««
you’re pretty sure you’re in hell.
you’re not sure what you did in your past life to have deserved this, but past-life y/n must’ve killed a baby or set an entire village on fire or something to that degree because you’re pretty sure that in this current timeline, you’re in hell
you stay quiet as you munch on your (slightly soggy, unfortunately) sandwich, scrolling through your phone (but not really paying attention to your instagram feed because apparently you’re a glutton for punishment and you keep wanting to look up and just stare at jungkook and ji-eun in all their coupley glory) while your foot taps anxiously against the ground
you know that if you say you can sit somewhere else to give the two of them some privacy that jungkook will insist that you stay, but you feel like the longer you sit here the faster the people around you will see that you’re just a big ol’ monster truck sized third wheel
you could lie and say that you have to go to the library to get some work done, but jungkook’s really good at knowing when you’re lying to him (apparently you have VERY obvious tells which you were very unaware of) so that’s not going to be a feasible plan either
it’s just that being here is incredibly uncomfortable but it seems like the only option you have is to stay and sit through it — which, again, reiterates your point of you being pretty sure you’re being punished for something you did in your past life
“my handsome boy…” ji-eun giggles lightly, reaching over to adjust the collar of jungkook’s jacket before leaning over to kiss him on the cheek, “i like this jacket a lot.”
“yeah?” he gives his girlfriend a boyish grin, looking down at his jacket before looking back up at her, “lucky for you, you can borrow it anytime you’d like-“ you glance up at them, the little voice in your brain stopping you from interrupting them to say that that is a nice jacket because you chose it for jungkook — and you feel like that comment could potentially lump you into the pick-me-girl-best-friend category which you’d very much like to avoid
“borrow? no, i’m stealing it-“
“no way! i got this thrifted for, like, fifteen bucks, i’m not letting you steal it-“
“alright, then you better sleep with one eye open the next time i stay over at yours because this is a nice jacket-“
you can’t help but look over at the empty seat next to you on the bench as you let out a quiet sigh… you have never felt so horribly single in your entire life.
and it doesn’t help that it’s cuffing szn this cuffing szn that all over your social media — your tiktok feed has not been very friendly to you as of late, the app flooded with countless videos of cute couples bundling up for the colder seasons
if anything you need to be cuffed to the wall before you go crazy and rip your eyelashes out from frustration
unsurprisingly, jungkook and ji-eun are a couple now, but really, are you surprised? jungkook is great, ji-eun is great, they went on a great first date (thanks to you, let’s be honest) and all the dates after that went well too because it lead to jungkook asking ji-eun if she wanted to be exclusive with him
you knew that things were going well when jungkook started hanging out with you less and less
and then when they officially got together, you didn’t think it could possibly get any worse but your already puny twice a week hangouts turned into two hours a week before he’d zip off to spend time with ji-eun
in fact, within the last two weeks, he’s only hung out with you once… which is fine, because you understand the honeymoon stage and you understand how giddy people can be when they get into a brand new relationship and just want to spend all their time with this new person
you know for sure that if you were the one who’d gotten into a new relationship, you’d definitely want to spend as much time with your person because why wouldn’t you want to do that? you really can’t blame the guy
you have other friends you can hang out with, but it’s just not as fun because even when you’re having a good time with them, your mind keeps wandering back to what jungkook is doing with ji-eun
and of course, when jungkook mentioned to you over a quick lunch one afternoon that he was planning on asking ji-eun to make things official, it’s not like you could tell him that it was a horrible idea and that he shouldn’t be dating ji-eun without ruffling feathers and raising brows of suspicion
the only person it would be a horrible idea for would be you, and you’re not enough of a dickhead to ruin a potentially good thing because of your own desires
and obviously, she said yes because why wouldn’t she say yes?
…
you know, there really isn’t a way for you to talk about this situation without sounding like the most bitter person on the planet, so perhaps you should move on now
“okay, i’m putting you two on drinks duty for the party!” jimin seems to appear out of thin air and you turn your head to look at him standing at the front of the table with an armful of flyers and the usual bossy, snarky persona that literally drains you every time you have an interaction with him, “unless you’re too busy making out to handle that.”
“no, we can handle it-“ ji-eun rolls her eyes playfully, pulling away from jungkook before reaching over and plucking the list from jimin’s slim fingers, “jesus, jimin. twelve bottles of vodka??”
“i’ll give you my credit card, just put all the charges on it-“ jimin shrugs, sliding in next to you before nudging you over a little, “this is going to be my greatest party yet. i’m charging $10 an admission and i’m renting out this huge house- i don’t think you can even comprehend how massive this party is going to be. it’s gonna be so much better than last year’s one.”
“i remember hearing about your party last year!” you chime in, offering jimin a polite smile even though he’s not looking at you, “it sounded like it was super fun.”
“so, you guys are on drinks, so that’s covered-“ jimin makes a tick on his clipboard before nodding to himself, “decor is covered, catering is covered, rent for the night is covered…”
you poke your tongue against the inside of your cheek, slumping in your seat a little and resisting the urge to roll your eyes
you still have no clue what jimin’s problem is with you, but at this point you’ve gotten used to the way he acts like you literally do not exist at all
you mentioned it to jungkook one time, wondering if maybe you were just looking too far into it and that there was nothing to take personally to which he responded with an enthusiastic nod and a “no, i also get the vibe that he doesn’t like you and i have no idea why… just let him be an ass if he wants to be one, don’t stoop to his level. life is too short to waste energy on weird people.”
so if jimin wants to continue being an ass to you, you’re just gonna let it roll off you like water off a duck’s back
“funny enough, y/n and i were gonna go to your party last year, but the kids in y/n’s building were trick or treating so we decided to stay home and watch horror movies and hand out candy instead-“ jungkook clears his throat, eyes flickering over to you for a brief second, “we also, like, decorated the doorway like it was a haunted apartment to freak the kids out. and y/n had this great idea to have a cauldron filled with warm spaghetti and she told the kids it was brain stew-“
“oh my god, i forgot about that-“ you snort, “i feel like we should’ve done, like, warm pudding instead or something, but the spaghetti kinda had the same effect and my kitchen smelled like an italian restaurant for two weeks after that-“
“let’s talk costumes!” jimin interrupts you, smacking his palm down on the table before pointing his pen at ji-eun and jungkook, “please don’t show up in anything tacky.”
“we were thinking barbie and ken!” ji-eun grins, “not tacky, totally trendy — i know we probably won’t be the only barbie and kens in the room, but it’s just so trendy and i loved her pink sequinned cowboy outfit- or if that’s not available, i think the 80s skater costumes were a vibe-“
“i can’t whait to talk about horshes and capitahlism wiv a bunch of ovher kensj.” jungkook laughs lightly with a mouthful of sandwich, dabbing his mouth with his napkin before crumpling it up into a ball and tossing it at you
you scowl playfully when it bounces off your forehead and lands on the ground
“you could go as allen, y/n. that’d be pretty funny.” jungkook swallows his bite, and you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to include you in every part of the conversation because you can practically see the pity for you radiating off of him in waves
you know for a fact he feels bad that he’s not been able to hang out with you as much lately because every time you do hang out he always brings you a drink or a snack with sympathetic little puppy dog eyes
and every time you have lunch with him and ji-eun he’s always making an effort to include you in the conversation — especially when jimin is around because again, it’s pretty clear the guy doesn’t like you
you and jungkook spent an entire afternoon trying to figure out why he didn’t like you so much, but you couldn’t come up with any conclusive results, so now whenever jimin is around, jungkook makes even more effort to include you in the conversation
“allen was my favourite character, so that’s not even a bad idea.” you chirp, pulling out one of the flyers from jimin’s neat pile before looking at it for the details
“oh, right. yeah, you can come too, i guess.” jimin clears his throat quietly, taking the flyer back from you with a chuckle, “…you don’t seem like you’d have anything crazy going on on a friday night.”
“i can come too? i thought that everyone was invited to this thing?” you raise an eyebrow, pointing to the little note on the flyer, “all it says is general admission.”
“…right.” jimin smiles sweetly at you, “and i suppose i’ll waive the fee for you since you’re… friends with jungkook.”
“how sweet of you.” you respond curtly, offering a smile just as sweet before letting it drop as soon as he looks away
you are absolutely dreading having to go to this party.
»»————- 👻 ————-««
“are you sure you don’t want us to come and pick you up? ji-eun has space in her car, you’d just have to sit in the back with all the drinks n stuff-“
“i’m good, jungkook, really-“ you mutter, pausing for a second to smudge out your lipstick before leaning back in your chair and turning side to side to look at your finished look
not that this is jungkook’s fault, but the fact that the two of you really haven’t been hanging out as often gave you a lot of time to think about what you wanted to dress up as for jimin’s halloween costume, and after a solo spooky movie binge the other weekend, you decided that you wanted to dress up as emily from the corpse bride
sure, it’s been done so many times — but you love the movie and you love emily and you had so much time to get everything you needed for this costume so why not dress up as her??
you reach up to adjust your blue wig, tugging at it slightly to make sure it’s nice and secure
“i’m just gonna uber there! plus, my place is kind of out of the way if you guys are already headed to jimin’s.” you clear your throat, “thank you for the offer though. make sure to let ji-eun know i really appreciate the gesture.”
“okay, i will…” jungkook murmurs, and you can tell by the tone in his voice that he wants to say something but he’s holding himself back, “i guess i’ll see you at the party, then? we’ll probably be there in about forty minutes.”
“yes, i’ll see you guys at the party.” you nod, wiping the leftover blue lipstick on your fingers on a tissue before reaching over to get ready to press the hangup button
“y/n?” jungkook’s voice crackling out from your phone speaker makes you pause, and you pull your hand back
“yea?”
“we’re- we’re good, right?” the question is somewhat of a surprise to you due to its weirdly serious, non-jungkook nature, your eyes flickering down to look at the contact photo you have set for your friend
he grins like a maniac at the camera, eyes wide and lit up with excitement at the cheesy corn dog he’s holding in front of him
the corner of your mouth twitches in a fond smile at the memory of that day — jungkook was convinced he’d be able to eat three corn dogs in one sitting and the day ended with him basically destroying your toilet and then refusing to let you use it until the smell cleared out
“what do you mean?” you clear your throat quietly, lips parting to say something else before you press them together and decide against it
“i mean- i know we haven’t been hanging out a lot lately so i just-“ jungkook coughs, “you know, you’re my best friend and i wanna make sure that everything is… good between us.”
“i-“ you pause again, gaze averting to the side as you think about his comment
if you’re being completely honest, you don’t think everything is good between the two of you — the first reason why being the fact that you are still completely and utterly head over heels in love with him, and the second reason being that he’s in a relationship with someone else and you’re really not sure how much more of this you can take before you go insane
but this isn’t exactly something you can hash out over a crackly phone call, and you’re really not in the mood to potentially destroy two relationships at once
you really don’t know what you’re going to do about this emotional mess, but what you do know is that you’re going to have to take it day by day until you’re eventually ready to face it head on — and tonight, your only job is to smile, enjoy being young, and have lots of fun at what you’re sure is going to be an amazing party despite it being hosted by someone who hates your guts for no reason
“we’re- we’re good, kook.” you manage to push out, despite the words practically fighting their way out of your mouth, “you’re my best friend, too.”
“okay. so i’ll see you soon?”
“yea.” you look at yourself in the vanity mirror, wondering if the sadness in your eyes will make your costume that much more believable, “i’ll see you soon.”
»»————- 👻 ————-««
the six pack of lime seltzer water (you got the fancy kinds in glass bottles) clinks in their cardboard carrier as you walk on the sidewalk, blue heels clicking against the pavement as you follow the path leading up towards the house that-
“holy shit.” your jaw drops at the sheer size of this literal mansion — what looks to be an endless number of burgundy bricks separated by neat, thin layers of cement that are stacked on top of each other, two large, white columns that cast identical shadows on the curved sidewalk leading up to the large, black front door, and not to mention, the insane halloween decorations: huge spider webs stretched over the door and windows, fairy lights wrapped around the columns, a stack of pumpkins sitting by the front steps kardashian-style
you don’t like jimin but you have to hand it to him, he sure can throw a party
“s’cuse us, sorry!” a trio of girls dressed up as sluttier versions of the powerpuff girls brush past you, bubbles turning around to shoot you a grin, “love your costume, by the way!”
“oh, thank you!” your face immediately breaks into a wide grin, “you guys look great, too-“
the random compliment lifts your mood up slightly — you know you’re more than capable of making friends anywhere you go, so if jungkook is too busy mingling with the other couples, you know you’ll be fine
and hopefully jimin will be too busy playing host to give you any attitude tonight
you lift your dress up as you make your way up the steps, the corners of your mouth lifting in an excited smile when you see taehyung standing by the door greeting people and collecting their $10 by… having them tuck the bills into the waistband of his boxers
“magic mike?” you laugh, taehyung’s right eye dropping in a wink before thrusts his hips towards you
“you know it, baby-“ he coos, reaching over to pinch the fabric of your dress to pull you towards him, your cheeks flushing when you stumble into his chest, “be nice to me and i’ll give you a lil lap dance in one of the private rooms-“
“taehyung, i swear to god, do not let any of those bills fall into your boxers because i’m not touching anything that touched your penis-“ jimin pops up behind taehyung dressed in a veryaccurate joker costume, his usual blonde hair dyed completely green for the look
“hi, welcome to the party, $10 an admiss-“ the sweet smile immediately drops from his face when he realises it’s you, jimin leaning back slightly, “wow, corpse bride!” jimin nods, looking you up and down, “seems fitting.” he mutters under his breath, watching as taehyung tapes the neon orange bracelet around your wrist
“nice to see you too, jimin.” you raise an eyebrow, lifting the six pack up with your other hand, “i didn’t want to come empty-handed, so i brought some drinks!”
“you brought six drinks for a house party? six sparkly waters, too… interesting.” jimin scoffs lightly, plucking the carrier from you before offering you a saccharine sweet smile, “how thoughtful of you. drinks are in the kitchen - first two shots are free, and then it’s $15 a shot after that. cocktails are $5 each, mocktails are $3- you seem like a shirley temple girl anyway- and all of it can be paid through venmo. the bartender will answer any other questions you have. bathrooms are upstairs, and the results to the costume competition will be announced at the end of the night. there are fifteen winners, and the votes are made by everyone here, so you might have a shot at winning something here.” jimin steps aside, gesturing towards the party, “have fun!”
“thank you, jimin.” you smile politely, stepping into the house and immediately rolling your eyes as soon as you turn away from him
so you weren’t able to completely avoid his dickheadedness, but hopefully that’ll be your only interaction with him tonight considering he’s probably going to be busy playing businessman all night
$15 a shot is kind of insane, though
you keep your phone pressed flush to your chest as you manoeuvre your way through the packed floor, the neon lights flashing and disco ball glimmering from above making it damn near impossible to navigate this place without bumping into backs and stepping on toes
the DJ pumps his arm up into the air as he continues spinning his fingers against the discs, the crowd going wild as the song builds up to the chorus
you can already tell that most of the people here are drunk (you can smell it, too) and you know, if you can’t beat ‘em, why not join them?
you can find jungkook later, and alcohol is definitely going to make this night a little easier to handle
“hi!” you smack your hands down on the marble countertop when you finally make your way to the bar, the vampire bartender turning to glance at you over his shoulder before tossing a cloth over his shoulder, “i want- something. shots, a drink, anything-“ your voice is already straining from the way you’re basically screaming over the music but this seems to be the proper way to communicate at a party like this
“wait, y/n?” your eyes light up when you realise that it’s none other than namjoon in charge of the drinks (and you wonder if your friendship with him will mean he gives you more drinks without charging you for it) and you let out a gasp as you lean over the counter to grasp onto his wrist
“namjoon!” you grin, “oh my god, thank god, finally someone i know at this damn party. why didn’t you tell me you were going to be here??”
“why didn’t you tell me you were gonna be here?! i haven’t seen you at the library at all, otherwise i definitely would’ve talked to you about it- what can i get for you?”
“top-shelf tequila, baby. i saw the list of brands that jimin bought - i want the most expensive one.” you raise an eyebrow, namjoon laughing to himself before nodding
“alright, i gotcha- you need any chasers with that?”
“you got cranberry juice?”
“for you, i’ve got anything-“ namjoon smirks, holding a finger up to excuse himself
it’s five seconds later that you’re presented with not one, not two, but three shots of tequila, namjoon winking at you as he slides the cranberry juice chasers over to you as well
“you better take these before jimin realises i’ve given you a freebie- i’m about to take a break here, someone else is gonna come in a sec to replace me- you wanna dance?”
“um, of course i do!” you can’t help but squeal excitedly, “take one with me!” you push a shot glass towards him, namjoon shrugging before picking up the shot and downing it in less than two seconds
you take your second shot, eyes squinting as the burn of alcohol trickles down your throat
you immediately shudder, reaching for the cranberry juice and tossing it down the hatch
“oh, jesus-“ you hiss, shuddering against before sticking your tongue out in disgust, “god, that cranberry juice does not help whatsoever-!” you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before namjoon has his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, giggles bubbling out of your mouth as he drags you towards the crowded dance floor to join the rest of the drunken crowd
»»————- 👻 ————-««
okay, so maybe this party didn’t turn out to be as bad as you thought it was going to be!
“that- oh my god-!” you throw your head back in laughter when namjoon pulls out the worst dance moves you’ve ever seen, your eyes pinching shut as you clutch at your stomach
you’re not sure how much time has passed (to be fair, it’s gonna be hard to tell how much time has passed when you’re at a massive house party with flashing lights and nothing but the sound of speakers booming to guide you) but you know you’ve been having a lot more fun with namjoon than you’ve had with jungkook these last few weeks) ((in fact you’re having so much fun that you almost forgot you were supposed to be heartbroken that the love of your life is with someone else, but also, that could probably be the alcohol taking over))
you know at some point you’re going to have to go over and say hi to jungkook eventually because you don’t want him to think that you’re purposely ignoring him or something — after all, it’s not his fault that he likes ji-eun and it’s not something you can pin on him and grill him for — but for now, you’re going to dance a little more, sing a little more, and-
“i gotta pee!” you gasp all of a sudden, realising that you haven’t peed once since coming here and there’s a lot of tequila sloshing around in your system
“what?” namjoon furrows his brows, reaching up to tap against his ear, “too loud, can’t hear you!”
“i gotta go pee!” you repeat yourself, pointing towards the staircase leading upstairs, “’m gonna go pee n then ‘m gonna come right back-“
“oh, pee?” namjoon nods, finally catching your words before stepping aside a little, “okay, i’ll be right here!”
»»————- 👻 ————-««
the silence of the bathroom is more than welcome as soon as you step in and flick the lights on, not at all surprised to see a pair of elegant looking wall sconces lighting up the space
you squint your eyes as you lean into the mirror, double checking that your makeup is still somewhat intact and you don’t look insane
“hm. not bad.” you mutter to yourself, turning your head from side to side before nodding, reaching down to pull the endless amounts of tulle up so you can hopefully not piss all over yourself in your tipsy state
…
…
…
you set the lid down as the toilet flushes, turning the tap on and rinsing your hands underneath the cool water
“oh, damn-“ you wince when you realise you’re washing some of the blue body paint away and you quickly turn the tap off, shaking the water off your hands before reaching for a neatly folded cotton towelette of course, because regular paper towels aren’t fancy enough for a park jimin party
you give yourself one last glance in the mirror (you could use a little more lipstick but it’s dark down there so no one’s going to be able to tell anyway) before flicking the lights off
“oops! i’m sorry-“ you apologise instinctively when you open the door and stumble right into someone, taking a few steps back before looking up to see that it’s jimin, “oh, hey…” you clear your throat quietly, standing up a little straighter before offering him a meek smile
you always feel like you’re in trouble when you’re around jimin and it’s the worst feeling in the world
like he’s the principal and you just got caught cheating on a test and he’s about to call home to tell your parents as punishment
or he’s an officer and he’s about to test you with the breathalyser and you know you’re going to fail because you definitely can’t walk in a straight line right now
“why am i not surprised that you clearly don’t know how to handle alcohol?” jimin snorts, holding his hands out in case you fall over, “you better not throw up all over me, this suit is custom made-“
“i wasn’t throwing up in the bathroom, i just went in there to pee-“ you roll your eyes, placing both hands on your hips before shaking your head, “you are ridiculous, you know that? even if i was throwing up in your stupid fancy toilets, the normal thing to do would be to ask if me i was okay and if i needed some water! you- you are just so self-centred and just-“
“yeah, uh-huh-“ jimin reaches up to pat the side of your face with a smile, “by the way, if you were looking for jungkook, he’s at the VIP booth with ji-eun and the rest of us.”
“oh, perfect!” you nod, thankful for the information, “i’ll pop over and say hi in a bit, i think it’d be good to sit down too because my heels are kind of killing me and i wouldn’t be surprised if i had, like, a million blisters right now-“
“woah, i never said you were allowed to be in the booth with us.” jimin scoffs, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you from moving, “silly girl.”
your lips part slightly as you look at him, and for a moment the only thing that can be heard is the faint boom and bass of the music playing from downstairs
“are you… serious?” you ask, unsure if jimin’s joking with you or not
the bored expression on his face tells you that he is indeed, super serious
all of this just feels so incredibly cliquey and immature and stupid and you know that you’re supposed to be the bigger person because jimin clearly won’t be and you like to think that you’re ten times more emotionally mature than him but he’s making it harder and harder for you to not want to shred up his nice suit with a pair of scissors and cuss him out in front of everyone
“i’m dead serious. i’m just telling you this so that you don’t embarrass yourself when your drunk ass stumbles over and tries to join us.” jimin says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world, “enjoy the rest of the party, sweetheart.” he brushes past you to head into the washroom and-
“you’re a fucking dickhead, you know that?” you snap, jimin stopping in his tracks before turning his head slightly so you can just make out the side of his face, “i think i’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since i met you, and to be honest, i can’t even think of one reason why you are constantly so fucking rude and overall just unpleasant to me. i don’t say anything when you purposely cut me out of the conversation, i don’t nag when you ignore my questions and comments but respond to everyone else’s, and most importantly, i’ve never called you out for being a jackass when i think i’ve had every chance and opportunity to. if you have a problem with me, then just say so so that we can hash this stupid weird rivalry out and just get along. your best friend and my best friend are in a relationship, and i think it’s in everyone’s best interest that we at least try to get along-“
“oh, shut the fuck up, y/n.” jimin scoffs, turning around to face you, “you know, you always act like you’re better than everyone else, that’s why i don’t like you.”
you feel your shoulders stiffen at the comment before you shrug, crossing your arms over your chest, “well, i’m sorry if i’ve given you that impression but that’s not my intention, i don’t think i’m better than you, i don’t think i’m better than everyone else, and i can’t control how you feel about me but-“
“oh my god, even when you’re confronting me about being a dickhead to you you’re still being a sensible goddamn person, it’s like you’re purposely trying to piss me off-“
“okay, well, i’m not going to apologise to you for literally being myself because there’s nothing i can do about it. this is a you problem, not a me problem, so if you insist on being such an unreasonable drama queen for however long we’re going to have to spend time together, then i think the solution here is just for you to ignore me — which, you’re already doing a stellar job of, congratulations — and in return, i’ll happily ignore you.”
“i hate when people aren’t themselves. i pick up on that shit right away, and i gotta tell you, y/n, you might be the fakest person of them all.”
“what the hell are you talking about?”
“i think we both know you’re hiding something from all of us. i think you’re hiding something from yourself, too. i think you’re lying to yourself.”
there’s a pregnant pause in the conversation and for a second you want to ask him what exactly he’s implying here, but…
“alright, jimin, well-“ you turn around to head towards the stairs, “you’re fuckin’ being weird, and i’m just trying to have a good time, so i’m just gonna go back down-“
“yeah, have a wonderful rest of your evening, corpse bride-“
you resist the very strong urge to whip around and literally just strangle the man, but you remind yourself that before you had this little interaction you were actually having a very good time
“y/n!” jungkook stands at the bottom of the staircase as you make your way down, being careful not to trip over your heels, “hi!”
“jungkook! oh, there you are- i was wondering where you were-“ you loop an arm with his as you drag him through the hoards of people and towards the bar (you really need a drink and it looks like namjoon is back on the clock)
“there you are!” he laughs lightly, reaching over to tap your hand gently, “i’ve been texting you all night trying to figure out where you were but- is your phone on do not disturb or something?“
“no, it’s not! i’m sorry, i should’ve checked my phone-“ you smile sheepishly, “i’ve been dancing with namjoon this whole time but- where are you guys sitting?”
“i don’t know, some area that jimin squared off for us and a few others- ji-eun’s been asking about you, she wanted to say hi-“
“oh! oh my god, yeah, i should probably go say hi to ji-eun-“ you gesture for namjoon to get you some water and he nods, grabbing a cup and filling it up for you, :your ken costume turned out great, by the way-“ you laugh, patting jungkook’s bare chest, “it’s, uh- it’s really giving horses and the patriarchy.”
“thank you, thank you- and your costume turned out so cool too, we should watch corpse bride again when we eventually have another movie night-“
“sure! sure, for sure.” you clear your throat quietly, a moment of awkward silence settling in between the two of you
your friendship feels so… different now
like there’s this unspoken air of something in between you and jungkook like an invisible brick wall
and maybe it’s the liquid courage currently sloshing around in your body and the leftover exhilaration from finally calling jimin out on his bullshit, but now you have the urge to talk to jungkook about the weird tension
“hey, kook, listen-“ you reach up to scratch the back of your neck, “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you but i’ve definitely been putting off for a while…”
all of a sudden, a drum roll begins to boom from the speakers, the spotlights darting around the crowd before shining towards the main stage at the front of the room, whoops and cheers bouncing off the walls as jimin waltzes his way towards the microphone, a cocky smirk on his face as he raises his hand to get people to quiet down
“oh, shit, the costume competition results!!” jungkook nudges your side as the two of you turn to face the front, “we can talk about it later, i wanna see who won what- i voted myself for best ken costume, so-“
you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and you nod, thankful for the interruption
maybe it’s a good thing you were interrupted
telling him in the middle of a party probably wasn’t the best idea, anyway
»»————- 👻 ————-««
once again, you really have to hand in to jimin
the man truly knows how to throw a party, because it seems like just about everyone is having the time of their lives — and this costume competition just made things so much more fun
there are definitely a lot of good costumes here tonight and jimin decided to change it up with twenty-five different categories to go through so he’s kind of speed running through the names
most scary costume, most realistic costume, most well-made costume: he’s got a lot of categories to get through
you keep a content smile on your face as the costume contest continues to go on, enjoying jimin’s commentary to the point that you nearly forget that the two of you hate each other and he totally just disrespected you like he’s never disrespected you before twenty minutes ago
“i wonder how that guy made it look like his head was floating… that shit was so cool.” jungkook claps his hands along with the crowd and you nod enthusiastically
“i know, right?! i’m sure he probably took it off tiktok or something - we can definitely look it up after the party and maybe we can try to recreate-“ you stop yourself mid-sentence, suddenly remembering that you guys haven’t exactly been the closest as of late so it feels weird to be offering to do something together, “um-“ you clear your throat, offering a half-hearted shrug, “yeah, we can, like, look it up later or something. maybe you and ji-eun can figure it out and let me know.”
“yeah! or- you know, you and me-“ jungkook licks over his chapped lips, “like- you know, like- old times or whatever-“
“yeah, yeah- maybe! maybe-“
“now, before i announce this special category, i have something to read because-“ jimin sucks in a breath through his teeth before cocking his head to the side, “well, let’s just say it’s some context for the best simp costume of the night.”
you can’t help but frown at the strange category — out of all the halloween costume competitions you’ve been to, “best simp” has certainly never been one that you’ve seen before
“just wanna remind everyone that this is just a costume competition, everything is based off the costume you’re wearing.” jimin adds, taking a slip of paper out of his back pocket before unfolding it with nimble fingers, “so, uh- you know. don’t take anything seriously, you know? just gotta loosen up and have fun.”
your brows dip slightly at the weird disclaimer
…
something about this doesn’t feel right.
“dear j, this is something that i’ve wanted to tell you for a while but have never had the courage to until now. throughout our entire friendship, you’ve been so kind and loyal and honest with me, and i think that you deserve the same, so this is me being honest with you.” jimin speaks into the microphone, reading the words off the slip of paper with a tone of amusement laced in his powder-soft voice, “to be honest, i’ve liked you for nearly a year now, and i’ve tried so many times to push those feelings down but it’s clear that my feelings aren’t going anywhere anytime soon…” he recites, a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as he puts the piece of paper down, “any thoughts on who the winner could be? or should i keep going?”
your eyelids flutter slightly at the weird change in mood of the lines and a strange feeling of familiarity of those words
“me at that one hot english professor.” a voice pipes out from the crowd and that gets a round of laughter
you laugh along politely, but you can’t help but feel as though something is off
something is off
something is very, very off
“i cherish you as a friend and the last thing i want to do is to make things weird, so… you don’t have to worry about my feelings, you know?”
oh my god.
you feel the blood immediately drain from your face when you finally realize why these lines are so familiar — it’s because they’re from the note you wrote for jungkook when you were going to tell him you liked him.
your brain begins to work overtime to figure out how the hell jimin got his hands on that note and why the hell he’d think it’d be okay to read it aloud to this massive group of people and what the hell he’s even doing right now
“what i’m trying to say is that i like you, j. i like you so much that i don’t know where to even put my feelings, and i’m sick of holding my feelings back and pretending that i’m fine with being just your friend.”
you know that jimin’s never really been a fan of you, but even this seems like too much of a dickhead move even for him
you pluck at the cuff of your sleeve anxiously, tracing your steps all the way back to the day you were going to tell jungkook about your feelings for him and the note that you’d accidentally given him that you were hoping was rotting away somewhere in a dump yard but clearly isn’t
jungkook said he’d given ji-eun the note to spit her gum out into
but what if she uncrumpled the paper and saw the note?
and what if jimin was there when she uncrumpled the note?
and then they read it together and ji-eun mentioned that you were reciting this aloud in the bathroom and-
your heart starts to race in your chest and you feel the hairs prickle on your arms as anxiety begins to bubble in your stomach, and you know that no one’s looking at you but you feel like everyone’s looking at you
you feel sick
you feel like you’re going to throw up and explode at the same time
“how could you like someone for a year and not tell ‘em?” jungkook snorts, nudging you with his elbow, “who do you think the poor sucker is who said that?”
“beats me.” you breathe out, feeling yourself shrink slightly when you notice jimin starting to scan the audience, clearly laser-focused on finding you, “i have to- um, i think i need some fresh air, it’s a little warm in here-“
“oh- okay-“ jungkook doesn’t get the chance to say much else before you’re turning around, pushing yourself through the crowd of people and trying your best to stay calm
just breathe
in and out
in and out
in and out in and out in and out oh my god HURRY UP MOVE MOVE MOVE-
you’re sure that no one will notice if you slink out through the back
and you can always text namjoon later and say that it was great spending time with him but you had a personal emergency and needed to leave the party earlier
and if jimin decides to expose you, at least you’ll be gone and out of this house and nowhere near any of these people and you don’t have to look at their stupid sympathetic faces and you don’t have to deal with-
“and the best simp of the night goes to our lovely corpse bride.”
you freeze when the spotlight lands on you, your heart going a hundred miles a minute as it starts to beat harder and faster in your chest
you only manage to turn your head weakly to glance over your right shoulder, catching jimin in your peripheral view before you’re slowly twisting around to face him, feet glued to the ground
“why don’t you come up here and accept your sash, corpse bride?” jimin smirks, plucking the satin sash from (a shocked looking) taehyung’s arms before raising it up in the air slightly, “congratulations on winning, you get two free drinks from the bar. one for you and one for… well, probably also you. get on up here and claim your coupons!”
you feel your face burning bright red in humiliation and you’re unable to tear your eyes away from jimin, your hands clenched into tight fists at your sides
this is a nightmare
this is actually a nightmare
this is traumatising in so many ways
the music seems to quiet down, a loud silence washing over the room as people look at you with expressions of confusion on their faces, everyone clearly a little thrown off at the weird category
eyes, there are just a million pairs of eyes on you and you feel like you can’t move or breathe or even do anything but stand still in shock
it’s only then that you notice the calculating look on jungkook’s face, his eyelids fluttering slightly before his eyes widen and his head snaps up and over to look at you
his lips part slightly as his eyes dart over the features of your face and you feel your entire body flushing in humiliation and shame, forcing your eyes away from your friend and back to the dickhead on the stage
“you are really something else, park jimin.” you manage to mutter out before turning on your heel and pushing your way through the crowd, people stepping aside to let you out
“aw, where are you going? you had a great costume, that’s all we were trying to say!” jimin laughs, actually laughs into the microphone before shrugging, tossing the sash over his shoulder before moving on, “alright, well, more drinks for me, i guess. the next category is best couple’s costume-“
“y/n- y/n, wait!” jungkook’s voice is the one thing you hear among the music and bustle of the crowd but he’s the last person you want to talk to right now so you pick up your pace upon spotting the front door
tears blur your vision as you finally burst out into the open air, your chin trembling as you try your best to keep your composure and not completely burst into tears
“oh my god, oh my fucking god-“ you whimper, sucking in large breaths of air
run, run, run, the only instinct you have is to run, and you reach down to yank both heels off before taking off into a sprint, the grass slightly damp beneath your bare feet
it feels very cliché to be running out of a mansion in a big poofy dress, but you can’t even take the moment to laugh at yourself because the only thing you can focus on is the fact that everything has changed completely and you’re forced to face reality a lot sooner than you would’ve liked
“y/n, come on!” you turn to glance over your shoulder to see jungkook hot on your trail, “you can’t just run away from a discussion you don’t want to have, we need to talk because we both know that things have been off since i started dating ji-eun and now-“
“okay, well, now you know, then!” your chest heaves as you come to a stop to catch your breath (you have no idea why you thought running would be a good idea, you get winded after thirty seconds on the treadmill), spinning around to face your friend who skids to a stop, tripping over his feet a little before standing up straight, “the secret’s out, jungkook. we finally solved the puzzle. i love you. i’ve loved you for so long that i don’t even remember when i started feeling this way, but all i know is i love you. you’re the first person i think of when i wake up and you’re the last person i think about before i fall asleep. i would literally drop everything i was doing if you needed me, and you’re the only person i want to spend my free time with.” all the words that you’ve been holding in for the last who knows how long finally spill out, your mouth running uncontrollably, “i love you so much that i helped you set up your date with ji-eun, i love you so much that i’m willing to run in the rain just to get you a teddy bear and a bouquet that’s not even going to me, jungkook, i-“ you blubber, reaching up to wipe at your eyes, “i don’t know what to do. there is no one else in the world i’d rather be with than you, jungkook, and i- to be honest, maybe it’s a good thing that jimin did what he did because you do deserve to know the truth and you do deserve to know how i really feel about you. if this didn’t happen i think i’d just keep it to myself for the rest of my life, but you deserve to know this. i love you, jungkook. i love you and i don’t know if i can keep being friends with you if you’re dating someone else because it’s actually killing me on the inside-“
“i love you, y/n,” jungkook breathes out, and you feel yourself letting out a breath that you didn’t even know you were holding
relief
for the first time in a long time, you feel relieved, like a massive weight’s just been lifted off your shoulders
you feel your heart soar in your chest, and suddenly it’s like all the humiliation and shame has completely washed away, and suddenly you have the feeling to run back into the house to thank jimin for doing this because you know you wouldn’t have said anything if it weren’t for this slightly traumatising experience
“i love you, i do, but… not in that way.” his shoulders droop slightly and you feel your heart beginning to crackle like a delicate glass sculpture, each splinter creating more damage than the last, “i love you like you’re the first person i call when i get good news because i know you’ll be proud of me, or when i get bad news because i know you’ll be there to comfort me. i love you, like i envision you standing next to me at my wedding fixing my tie or calming me down when whoever i end up marrying is walking down the aisle. i love you like you’ll be fun auntie y/n who spoils my kids with shopping sprees at the mall and who allows them an extra scoop of ice cream after dinner. i love you because you make me a better person, i love you because you encourage me to be the best version of myself i can possibly be. i love you because you remind me to be smart and kind and humble and honest and i trust you to be the one to put me in my place if i ever need it but i-“
“stop.” you feel nauseated hearing all of these words coming out of his mouth, telling you that he loves you because and he loves you because but not just i love you too. “just stop, jungkook.” you know that you can’t control someone else’s feelings but you can control your own reactions, and if jungkook would’ve kept rattling on you don’t know what you would’ve said but you know you probably would’ve lashed out at him
and it’s good that you finally got your answer, right? he loves you, but not in that way — not in the way that you love him
“y/n, please-“ jungkook whispers, reaching out for you, his eyebrows scrunching together when you take a small step back, wrapping your arms around yourself, “please, i can’t lose you as a friend, you mean so much to me-“
“i need some time.” you manage to force out, the sickening feeling of humiliation and shame and embarrassment and disappointment and frustration and anger swirling around in your stomach, “i just need some time.”
“how much time?”
“you should probably go back to the party.” you clear your throat quietly, offering your friend a weak smile, “i heard you and ji-eun were up for best couple’s costume. not saying that jimin rigged the system or anything, but-“
“y/n, how much time?” jungkook’s looking at you with sad puppy-dog eyes, and though it breaks your heart to see him like that, you need to put yourself first for once
every instinct inside of you screams to console jungkook, to reassure him and let him now that you’ll still be around but you just need some space from him and the whole situation
your eyes begin to water again as you press your lips together, shaking your head quietly, “i’m gonna go see if i can catch the bus home.”
»»————- 👻 ————-««
(- “the FUCK is wrong with you, huh?!” jungkook barks, slamming jimin up against the wall before grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt, “you sadistic fuck, who in their right mind would ever fucking do that to another human being?!”
“i’m the sadistic one?” jimin laughs, reaching up to wrap his fingers around jungkook’s wrists, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one whose been dangling yourself in front of y/n like a damn carrot to a starved rabbit-“
“what are you talking about?”
“you can’t stand here and honestly say that you didn’t have an inkling that y/n liked you more than a friend. i’ve seen the way you talk to her, i’ve seen the way you look at her, i’ve seen the way you are around her- you think i’m the evil one? at least i don’t take advantage of my friends who are CLEARLY head over heels in love with me and would obviously do anything i wanted them to do and ask them to help me set up a date that i’m taking someone else out on-“
“get a fucking life and mind your own damn business for once, you motherf-“)
🎙️ console y/n or call out jimin because what the hell was that?! (talk to my characters!)
📚 why not explore the rest of the library while you're here? (go say hi to yoongi and y/n in la vie en bonsai!)
💫 or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series!)
🌟 or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)
#i'm so sorry this is so incredibly late#so so so so sosososososo endlessly sorry#mini series: smitten#bff!kook#bff!kook drabbles#jungkook fics#jungkook fic recs#jungkook university au#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook au#jungkook gifs#jungkook drabble recs#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook angst recs#jungkook one shots#jungkook headcanons#jungkook one shot recs#bts#bts fics#bts fic recs#bts jungkook#bts writer recs#bts author recs#bts smut#jungkook smut
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why the fuck am I sitting in the dark with closer on repeat while rereading my own fic
#it’s sad girl spring apparently#cuffing szn is hitting weird today kids#texts from em#god like is there something in the air tho??#because I’m emo as shit this week
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is it cuffing szn yet?
#ts4#ts4cc#ts4 simblr#ts4 edit#simblr#black summer#sims of color#sims 4 cas#sims 4#the sims 4#the sims 4 cc#show us your sims#black sims of color#black simblr#retrgrd#retrgrd.sims
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Could I request a fluff fic for Miranda :0?
Maybe the weathers getting colder, cuffing szn etc Miranda falls for one of her neighbors who keeps bringing her baked goods, she’s unaware that said neighbor likes her!!! (unaware queen). Literally anything cute and sweet to get me thru the treacherous winter of Northern Europe HAHA
A/N: Hello! Sooooo a. this became a bit more of a Christmas fic than a winter fic, I hope that's okay, and b. I also failed to finish it before Christmas as I had originally planned 🥴 buuut I do hope you enjoy anyway!
HUGE shoutout to @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze and @agathaandgwenslesbian for beta'ing and hyping me up to post this, I love you both 🥺💖
Merry Christmas, Baby
Words: ~6.3k | ao3 link in title
Warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking, cigarettes/smoking
You’ve been living in your new apartment for about three months now, after leaving home and moving all the way to Australia for work. You like to think you’ve settled in well: you’re starting to get into a routine, you’ve managed to decorate most of your apartment and make it feel like home, Sydney isn’t as daunting as it was in the beginning - you were even able to give a tourist directions the other day.
The only thing missing is, well, friends. You get along well enough with your coworkers, they’ve been welcoming and have even started to invite you out. But more weekends than not you find yourself exploring the city on your own or hanging out on your couch with takeout, watching Netflix and thinking about your friends back home. You try to FaceTime them as often as you can, but the time difference makes it hard, and sometimes it makes you sad to ‘see’ them and know you can’t just meet up like you used to.
To stave off some of the loneliness you’ve been feeling, you’ve spent the past few weeks attempting to meet more people - and one person in particular has caught your eye: your neighbor, Miranda. You met her in the hallway during your first week in the building - she’d come up the stairs as you were fumbling with your keys, struggling a bit as your arms were full of groceries. She’d immediately offered to help, her eyes wide and her smile bright as she’d rushed over to you and grabbed the grocery bags right out of your hands. The way she looked down at you, watching your every move with great interest as you unlocked your door, brought a flush to your cheeks that only got worse during the subsequent small talk.
Your interactions since then have been a bit sparse - you keep hoping you’ll catch a glimpse of her in the hallway, but you rarely do. Sometimes you’ll hear her apartment door fall shut late at night as you’re falling asleep, or you’ll hear her footsteps on the stairs early in the morning while you’re still getting ready - wherever she works, she seems to have irregular shifts.
~~~
It’s a Sunday evening and you’re spending it alone (again). When your friend back home had canceled your scheduled FaceTime call at the last minute, you’d decided to distract yourself by baking. As you put together the ingredients for blueberry muffins, you find your mind wandering to your tall, blonde neighbor - wondering what it is she does for work, where she’s from (you thought you caught a British accent but you weren’t sure anymore), whether or not she’s seeing anyone…
The sound of the timer pulls you out of your thoughts and you turn off the oven and pull the muffin tray out, setting it on the counter. Your heart sinks when you realize there’s no way you’re going to finish them all by yourself. You suppose you could bring some to work… You bite your lip, your brow furrowing as you stare down the baked goods. Perhaps you could bring Miranda some? Butterflies erupt in your tummy when you picture her opening her front door, her lips stretching into a smile that reaches her bright blue eyes. Perhaps she would invite you in, perhaps the two of you would spend the evening on her couch, getting closer by the hour as you get to know one another. Perhaps…
You shake your head, trying not to get ahead of yourself. You’ll just stop by with a few muffins and see what happens. Maybe she’ll be busy. Or she won’t even be home and you’ll be forced to leave them next to her door.
After preparing a small basket of baked goods and changing from your rattiest sweatpants into a pair of jeans, you slip out of your apartment and cross the hall. Your heart begins to pound, your hands turning clammy as you bring your fist up to Miranda’s door. After a brief moment’s hesitation and a deep breath, you knock.
At first, you’re met with silence - your heart sinks a bit, and you try to ignore the little pang of disappointment that begins to creep up on you. But just as you’re about to turn around, you hear a shuffling behind the door. It opens just a crack - you hear an “Oh!” - and then it swings open fully, revealing Miranda in a navy bathrobe. Her hair is wet, slicked back - one strand falls over her eyebrow and she pushes it back, a smile growing on her lips as she looks down at you.
“Hello,” she says, sounding a little breathless. You feel yourself flush as you realize you must have caught her just out of the shower - perhaps it took her so long to answer the door because she wasn’t dressed yet, and the thought makes you slightly dizzy.
“Hi.” You can’t help but gawk a bit, and the thought of just dropping the muffins at her feet and leaving before you can make a fool of yourself briefly crosses your mind.
Her brows furrow slightly and so do yours, before you realize that you should probably say something else.
“I just wanted to…” You gesture vaguely at the basket you’re holding. “If this is a bad time, I can come back later,” you manage to stutter out, focusing all your efforts on keeping your eyes on her face.
“Oh, you’re alright,” Miranda says, craning her neck a bit to catch a glimpse at what you’re holding. “Are those muffins?”
“Yeah. For you.” You thrust your arms out, holding the basket towards her. Her eyes widen, darting between you and the basket as she takes it from you.
Her entire face seems to light up with excitement - she looks positively giddy. “Did you make these?”
“Yes! Yeah. I like baking. And I made too many. So I thought I would see if you want some.”
The smile that’s broken out across Miranda’s face is one you wish you could save and put in your pocket to look at on your worst days. It lights up her entire face, making her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle - it’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen. You’re so distracted by it that you nearly miss her next words.
“Would you like to come in? I was going to make some tea.”
“Sure.”
You blush as Miranda steps aside, allowing you to step over the threshold of her apartment. She shuts the door behind you then walks past you into her kitchen. Even the way she walks is attractive to you - the mesmerizing sway of her hips, the way she pushes her shoulders back and swings her arms, her long strides. Taking a deep breath, you follow her and lean against the door frame, watching as she sets down the muffins on the counter and puts on the electric kettle.
“I didn’t know if you’d be home,” you say, breaking the silence. You’re a bit embarrassed that your voice comes out hoarse, and you clear your throat. “I don’t see you around much. Do you do shift work?”
Miranda glances back at you as she rummages through the cupboards for two mugs. She smiles softly. “Sort of. I’ve been on call a lot lately.”
“Oh.” You cock your head to the side. “What do you do?”
“I’m, uh, a police constable.”
Your eyes widen as you process the information. It makes sense, you realize - and then you feel your mouth go dry as you picture Miranda in a police uniform.
“What do you do?”
Her question breaks you out of your trance, and you can feel your cheeks turn red. “Oh, um, that’s… I work in accounting.” You swallow back your embarrassment at having a “boring” desk job, your eyes darting around Miranda’s kitchen - anything to avoid meeting her gaze.
“Steady work then,” she says - you can hear the smile in her voice and you dare to steal a glance at her face. Her expression is soft, completely at ease, and you can’t help but feel your shoulders relax a little. “How come you moved to Sydney? Did you move here for a guy?”
A sound between a snort and a chuckle escapes your lips and you quickly look away again. “Nope.” You want to say that you’re more into women, but you get nervous and something stops you. “I just needed a change of scenery. I figured moving to an English-speaking country would be easiest, and I thought the weather here would be nicer than in the UK.”
Miranda laughs a full-belly laugh, throwing her head back. “I’m from the UK, you know.”
“Tell me I’m wrong then,” you tease with a grin.
Her eyes flicker briefly over your form, an amused grin on her face. “You’re… you’re not wrong.” She ducks her head in surrender - then the kettle goes off and she turns to busy herself with preparing the tea.
“So why did you move to Sydney then?”
“My boyfriend at the time was Australian.” Miranda hands you one of the mugs, then leans back against the counter, taking a sip of her own tea and observing you carefully. You try not to let on to the way that your stomach sinks when you hear the word “boyfriend” - it doesn’t mean she’s straight, you remind yourself (and besides, even if she did like women - it doesn’t mean she’d like you). You nod and hum in acknowledgment, hoping to come off as casual and unaffected as you sip your tea.
Miranda sets down her mug and reaches over the small kitchen table to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Once again you find yourself mesmerized as long, slender fingers pull a cigarette out of the pack, placing it between her pale lips as she lights it.
For a moment, she seems unaware of your presence - she takes a deep drag from the cigarette, her fingers playing with the lighter as she exhales a cloud of smoke. Then her eyes fall to your face and widen slightly. “Oh, God, sorry. Do you mind?”
You shake your head - it’s not your apartment so it’s not like you have a say anyway, and, if you’re honest, you find it a bit hot. “Go ahead, it’s your apartment.”
She shoots you a grateful smile and takes another drag from the cigarette. “You want one?”
You nod and she tosses you the pack. Once you’ve plucked a cigarette from it, she steps towards you. “Here, let me,” she says, moving to light it for you as her own cigarette dangles from between her lips. She gets closer than would probably be necessary and her proximity makes you feel a little faint - you can smell the shampoo in her still-damp hair, and the smoke on her breath. Your eyes are trained on the lighter - when the flame goes out, you glance up, only to be met with the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. They’re even lighter than you initially thought and her gaze is intense - it’s slightly overwhelming.
“Thanks,” you whisper hoarsely, forcing yourself to blink and take a step back. Miranda’s eyes are fixed curiously on your face as she plucks her cigarette from between her lips. She tilts her head, her lips parting into a smile.
“What?” There’s a playful edge to her voice and her eyes sparkle with mischief. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
You freeze, your cheeks turning pink. “Like what?”
“You find me intimidating, don’t you?” You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off, gesturing down the length of her body. “It’s my height, isn’t it? I get that a lot.”
“It’s not- I mean…” You shrug lamely, taking a sip of your tea to give yourself a moment to think. “It’s not you, I’ve just had a long day. A long few months, actually.” Okay, so you’re deflecting - but it feels way too nice just to bask in Miranda’s presence, and you don’t want it to end so soon by making things awkward.
Miranda’s face softens in an instant, little creases appearing between her brows. “From the move? It can be so hard to uproot your life like that.”
It’s a phrase you’ve heard before - people trying to sympathize with you, looking for something meaningful to say. But with Miranda, it feels different. With the way she’s looking at you, it feels like she truly understands.
~~~
In the past few weeks you’ve gotten into the habit of bringing Miranda baked goods - always on the pretext of having made extras for work and other neighbors (though you never have any intention of giving them to anyone except Miranda). It’s more than worth the hours spent in the kitchen to see the smile that lights up her face when she answers the door. Sometimes she invites you in for tea and a cigarette, sometimes there’s only time for a bit of small talk before one of you needs to get going - but each time, butterflies erupt in your belly and you find yourself wishing you were brave enough to make a move.
What you don’t know is that Miranda finds herself wishing the same thing. Sure, she loves everything you make her (nothing you’ve ever baked her has lasted more than 2 days at most), but the real reason her face breaks into a splitting grin when she answers the door is because it’s you who’s standing there.
Miranda can’t get enough of you - you’re easy to talk to, you make her laugh, you seem to take her as she is. And you’re damn beautiful. The most exciting part of her week is wondering on which evening you’ll come by unannounced after work, and she finds herself praying she’ll have the time to talk to you.
One such evening, you’ve come over with a tray of red velvet cupcakes - decorated with festive little Christmas tree sprinkles. Miranda’s just gotten off a shift and has the evening off, and she’s never been more grateful as she leads you into her kitchen and turns on the kettle. You make yourself right at home, settling on a kitchen chair and tucking your legs underneath you as you reach for the pack of cigarettes on the table - it’s almost become a routine now, and you look like you belong there. Miranda likes that thought more than she’d care to admit.
Still, despite how often you’ve come by lately, she feels there’s still some sort of barrier between the two of you. Your conversations are the best part of her week, yet they tend to feel a bit… shallow. She’s desperate to get to know you better but she’s holding herself back - the fear of driving you away, of being too much for you to handle, causes her to freeze up. You’re just being nice, trying to make new friends in Australia, and here she is, falling for you one red velvet cupcake at a time.
“Mir?” Your voice pulls her out of her thoughts and she looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. She tries desperately to remember what you were talking to her about, but she realizes quickly that her efforts are futile - she was too busy admiring the lock of hair falling across your cheek, the way you ran your fingers through your hair to push it back.
“Sorry.” She offers you a sheepish smile, her cheeks slowly turning scarlet.
You smile back, and her heart skips a beat. “I asked if you’re staying in Sydney for Christmas or if you’re going back to London?”
“I’m staying here. I work on Christmas, so…” She frowns slightly - she hasn’t gone home for Christmas in a few years. Usually, she works and spends her off-hours curled up in bed watching Christmassy rom-coms by herself. She’s gotten used to it. “Are you? Going home for Christmas?”
“Nah. I blew all my savings in the move, can’t afford the plane ticket.” Something about the way you shrug your shoulders, your gaze dropping to the floor, tells Miranda that your nonchalance is a front.
“Would you like to come over?” Miranda, what are you saying? “We could cook something and watch a movie together.” Miranda, shut up! “Maybe you could sleep over and we could keep each other company.” Oh, great, now you’ve done it! Miranda’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s saying, but she can’t take it back now - and, to be honest, she doesn’t want to take it back. Her heart hammers wildly against her ribcage as she waits for you to reply. It only takes you seconds, really, but those few seconds might as well be hours as time slows and Miranda begins to find it hard to breathe.
“Oh, it’s fine, you don’t have to take me in! I’ll be okay, I wouldn’t want to impose.” Your words come out in a rush and your cheeks are turning pink - Miranda’s heart starts to sink and she scrambles to find the right words to save the conversation.
“You wouldn’t be imposing, I’d have just had a few beers by myself after work anyway.” She chuckles nervously, before adding, “I could use the company.”
She quickly looks away from you, finding the brief moment of vulnerability too much to handle - she couldn’t bear to see the look in your eyes at the moment, certainly one of pity or judgment.
“Oh… Well in that case, I’d love to spend Christmas with you. If that’s okay.”
Miranda’s eyes widen and she glances over at you to see you smiling shyly - her heart stutters in her chest and she feels her stomach flip pleasantly. She lets out a shaky breath, unable to stop the wide smile that’s creeping up her face. “Okay then.”
~~~
Ever since that evening in Miranda’s apartment, you’ve been buzzing with excitement. She’d ended up giving you her number so that you could plan when to come over, and it’s taken all of your restraint not to bug her every waking second - you wouldn’t want her getting sick of you and regretting inviting you over.
But as Christmas is just a few days away, you decide to shoot her a text as you’re lying in bed at night.
Y/N: Hey there, it’s Y/N! I just wanted to ask what time you wanted me to come over on Christmas? :)
You toss your phone aside, not expecting Miranda to text back anytime soon - it’s already late, after all. When your screen lights up moments later, however, your heart begins to pound.
Miranda: Hey!
Miranda: I work until 4
Miranda: So evening I would say
Y/N: How does 6 sound? Is that too early?
Miranda: That sounds perfect :)
Y/N: Great! Should I bring anything?
Miranda: Just yourself ;)
Miranda: Wait
Miranda: Actually
Miranda: Do you remember the cookies you brought me last week?
Y/N: What, am I not enough for you? ;)
Y/N: (I’ll make some more)
Miranda: Are you sure?
Y/N: Absolutely!! Anything for my favorite neighbor.
Miranda: You’re too good to me
By the time you’re done texting her, you’re grinning down at your phone like an idiot. The screen goes black and you catch sight of your reflection - you blush and bury your head in your pillow. For the first time since you moved, you’re actually starting to get excited for Christmas.
~~~
Three days later you’re wrapping up a pair of Christmas pajamas (red, covered in little white snowflakes - you have a matching pair) to give to Miranda - you want to give her something for Christmas, but you don’t know her all that well yet to get her something personal. Still, you think (or at least, you hope) she’ll find the pajamas silly and fun.
Armed with the gift, a huge tupperware box full of candy cane cookies, your keys, and your phone, you pad across the hall and knock gently on Miranda’s door. You hear her muffled voice yell “coming”, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps, before the door swings open. Miranda’s eyes flick briefly down your body, over the wrapped gift and the cookies, before she finally meets your gaze. She’s slightly out of breath, and her lips curl up into a smile that meets her eyes. What you would give to kiss those lips…
“Merry Christmas,” you say, smiling back and forcing your eyes to remain trained on her own.
“Right! Merry Christmas!” You could swear you see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink, but before you have time to question it she’s ushering you into her apartment, her hand coming to rest on your lower back as she steers you towards the kitchen. “I did some food shopping the other day. I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, I’m not usually big on holiday foods and I didn’t have time to prepare anything because of work.”
Miranda’s rambling has you swooning - you can tell she’s nervous, though you aren’t sure why. If only she knew you’d happily eat frozen pizza or cereal for Christmas dinner, as long as you get to spend it with her.
“It’s fine, I don’t care much about Christmas dinner, we can eat anything.” You hope that you’re coming off as reassuring, though you can’t really tell as Miranda blushes again and lights up a cigarette.
“Maybe a curry?” she asks, chewing at her bottom lip.
“Yeah, that sounds great. Just tell me what you need help with.”
She seems to relax a bit, heading over to the fridge and pulling out ingredients. “What do you drink? Do you want a beer?”
“Please.”
The two of you spend the next 45 minutes side by side in the small kitchen, cooking, drinking, talking - mostly it’s Miranda, telling you about her workday. When she’s done chopping vegetables, she reaches for the pack of cigarettes again - “sorry, nerves,” she says with a faint smile. You still can’t fathom what she’s nervous about but you don’t want to push her, so you shrug it off and turn your attention to the curry that’s simmering in the pan. You dip a spoon into the sauce to try it, humming in delight the second the flavors explode on your tongue.
“This is really good, try it!” Without thinking you bring the spoon to Miranda’s mouth and, without thinking, she closes her lips around it. Her eyelids flutter shut and she lets out a little noise of pleasure that’s dangerously close to a moan. Heat pools in your stomach, your eyes glued to her lips as you slide the spoon out of her mouth - it’s the first time you notice a little scar above her lip, and you swallow thickly.
You quickly avert your gaze as Miranda’s eyes open again, taking a sip of your beer as you check on the rice.
“I was thinking we could just eat in the living room and watch a movie?” Miranda suggests when the curry is done cooking. You agree and help Miranda carry the bowls and a couple bottles of beer into the living room. It’s small, like yours, and a little cluttered. There’s a string of fairy lights above the window and a small Christmas tree sat atop a side table. Miranda’s eyes follow your gaze and she chuckles.
“I actually put that up two days ago, I panicked when I realized I didn’t have any Christmas decorations up at all.”
“You didn’t have to decorate on my account,” you tease, earning yourself a laugh.
“Oh but what kind of Christmas would it be without a tree?”
“Can’t argue with that.”
Miranda smiles at you as she settles on the couch, crossing her legs and setting her bowl in her lap. She gestures for you to join her. You tuck your knees underneath you, angling your body towards her. As you eat, you fall into an easy conversation - you find yourself getting even more comfortable in Miranda’s presence, feeling right at home in her apartment. You can tell she’s relaxing as well - she stretches her legs out, her toes (clad in Christmas-themed socks) touching the side of your thigh.
“I got you something, by the way,” Miranda says suddenly, leaning over to place her almost-empty bowl on the table. You follow suit, a smile lighting up your face.
“I got you something, too - wait here!” Miranda looks somewhat surprised as you jump up and rush into the kitchen, returning with the gift you’d brought. She now has a gift of her own on her lap, and she’s picking at the edge of the wrapping paper as you settle back down beside her, a soft smile on her face.
You exchange gifts and Miranda’s chewing nervously at her bottom lip as she watches you tear open the wrapping paper. It’s a cookbook for baking - you can’t help but laugh, and you look up to see Miranda’s cheeks turn pink.
“Is this meant to be a hint?” you tease, and Miranda chuckles nervously.
“Sorry, I-”
“I love it,” you cut her off, setting the book down beside you and leaning over to wrap your arms tightly around her torso. She returns the hug - her arms are strong and comforting and you’re immediately enveloped in her scent. It takes everything in you not to kiss her.
After pulling away, you gesture eagerly to the gift that’s in her lap. She has a look of nervous excitement on her face as she begins to unwrap it - her smile widens when she takes the pjs out of the wrapping paper and holds them in front of her.
“I hope they fit, I guessed your size. I have the same ones and you seem like the type of person who would like them.”
Miranda’s eyes widen as she looks over at you, her expression nothing short of giddy. “You have the same ones? Wear them! We can match.”
Her reaction is exactly what you hoped it would be. The prospect of wearing matching Christmas pjs is both adorable and a little intimate, and you’re filled with nervous anticipation as you head across the hall to your apartment to get changed.
When you get back to Miranda’s apartment a few minutes later, the blonde is sitting on her couch with her legs tucked underneath her. She smiles so widely that her nose crinkles, and she opens her arms to you. Without a second thought, you allow yourself to be pulled into a tight hug.
“Do you like them?” you ask as you pull away.
“I love them!” The smile on her face is genuine, her eyes shining brightly, and you can’t help but blush, your entire body tingling a bit as your eyes drift down her body.
~~~
You’re about an hour into the second movie of the night and you’re already several beers deep (you’ve lost count, to be honest). You’ve scooted closer and closer to Miranda as the evening has worn on, and now you’re practically on top of her - your legs are bent at the knee, tucked against your body and resting on the outside of her thigh, your shoulder is all but glued to her own.
You drain the rest of your beer, then pout at the bottle. “It’s empty,” you say, more to yourself than to Miranda, who chuckles and shifts beside you.
“I can get you another one?”
“It’s fine,” you say with a giggle. “Maybe I should stop drinking.” You’re not drunk but you’re definitely tipsy - you turn your head to face Miranda a little too quickly and, for a brief moment, the room spins, causing you to burst into another fit of giggles.
Your eyes meet Miranda’s, before dropping to her lips and getting stuck there. They’re curled into an amused smile as she chuckles at your inebriated state - though the smile slowly fades as her brows begin to crease. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and your own laughter quickly dies in your throat, your mouth going dry. You can tell Miranda’s breathing has gone shallow, her eyes falling to your lips. The air around you becomes thick and heavy, and Miranda’s gaze darts away.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, scrambling to scoot away - before she can get very far, your arm shoots out and holds her in place.
“What are you sorry for?” you whisper. The only sound you can hear is the pounding of your own heart in your ears as you wait for Miranda to respond. Her gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips, a lovely shade of pink rising in her cheeks.
“I-” she starts, cutting herself off as she swallows visibly.
“Do you want to kiss me?” You don’t know what prompted you to be so bold (probably the alcohol), but when a soft, barely audible whimper escapes Miranda’s throat, you can’t say you regret asking.
“Yes.”
You definitely don’t regret asking.
“I want to kiss you, too,” you whisper, leaning in slightly as you fix your gaze on soft-looking, pale pink lips that glisten slightly in the dim light of the living room. Then you stop yourself, hesitating as the room spins again. You’ve dreamed of kissing those same lips for weeks now but something is off.
The alcohol, you realize - you don’t want your first kiss with Miranda to be clouded by alcohol. You want to appreciate and remember the moment fully, you want to savor every second. So, as much as you’re dying to close the gap and absolutely ravage the lovely, beautiful woman sitting next to you, you decide to pull back. “But I’m going to wait until tomorrow. I want to be completely sober for that. And… if you still want to kiss me tomorrow… then I’ll kiss you.”
Miranda nods slowly, looking a bit dazed. “That’s, uh,” she starts, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat. “That’s a good idea.” She shifts in her seat, crossing one thigh tightly over the other. The air is still thick and heavy, and it takes everything in you not to say ‘fuck it’ and push her back onto the couch - but you mean it, you really do want to be sober for that. So you lean back, putting a few inches of distance between yourself and Miranda for the remainder of the film.
You feel yourself becoming more and more tired, and by the time the credits are rolling, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open. Pushing yourself up off the couch, you sway slightly as you make it to your feet, and immediately decide to sit back down so that you don’t fall over.
“You sure you can make it back down the hall okay?” Miranda teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watches you lean back against the sofa.
You roll your eyes and shoot her a playful glare. “I’m not drunk. I’m just tired.” As if to emphasize your point, you yawn widely as you finish your last sentence - Miranda laughs.
“You can sleep here if you want,” she offers - then her face goes pale and she rushes to explain herself. “Not with me of course, but the couch is quite comfortable. Or you can take the bed and I’ll take the couch, that’s fine, too-”
She’s talking a mile a minute and it’s the most charming thing you’ve ever heard - especially since you definitely would sleep with her. You’d just prefer to do it sober. Giggling, you decide to show her mercy and cut her off. “Thanks for the offer. I think I’ll take the couch if you don’t mind.”
“Of course, let me get you some blankets.” She turns off the tv and stands, leaving the room for a minute and coming back with a pillow and an armful of blankets. You get up and try to help her to make a makeshift bed for you, but your movements are a bit sluggish and you realize you’re just getting in her way, so you end up perching on the edge of the coffee table until she gives you the go.
You snuggle into the blankets - they smell like Miranda, and it takes everything in you not to bury your nose in them and moan out loud. Instead, you shoot Miranda a smile and mutter a sleepy ‘thank you’ - she nods, telling you to yell if you need her, then turns to leave.
“Oh, Miranda?” You lift your head off the pillow and crane your neck towards the blonde.
She pauses in the doorway, turning back to face you as she runs a hand through her hair. “Hmm?”
“Merry Christmas.” You beam at her, even as your eyes threaten to close any second. The evening was far from a traditional Christmas celebration, but it was the best Christmas you’ve had in a long time.
“Merry Christmas,” she replies, her smile soft and genuine, before turning around and disappearing into her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her.
~~~
You’re out like a light the second Miranda is gone, completely oblivious to the internal struggle she faces as she curls up in her own bed. She tries to close her eyes and force herself to sleep, but she’s not tired at all - her mind is racing and her heart is pounding, her entire body responding to the evening she’s shared with you. The laughter, the sense of familiarity and peace, the tension when you nearly kissed her. And, God, does she want to kiss you. But you’re tipsy, and you probably just said that in the heat of the moment - she gets it, sometimes alcohol makes her flirty and a little horny as well. You probably won’t remember that conversation in the morning - and you probably won’t want to kiss her anymore either.
She can’t help the way her heart sinks as she comes to that realization, and it keeps her up for the better part of the night. She feels like she’s just managed to nod off when the morning light starts to filter in through the curtains and she groans, burying her face in her pillow.
Thud.
Miranda freezes for a moment, her blood going cold as she hears a noise coming from her living room. Then she remembers that you’re sleeping on her couch and her body relaxes again. She’s nervous, wondering if you’ll be awkward about the previous evening’s sexual tension, but her curiosity about whether or not you’re already awake wins out and she pushes herself off the bed, smoothing a hand over her hair and wiping the sleep out of her eyes before creeping into the hallway, careful to be quiet in case you’re still sleeping.
There’s a clattering coming from the living room though, and she finds you collecting the beer bottles from last night that are still scattered across the coffee table.
“Hello,” Miranda says, her voice still a little hoarse from sleep.
Your head whips around towards the doorway and your cheeks turn pink. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to clean up a bit. Did I wake you?” The way you’re chewing at your bottom lip is adorable and makes Miranda want to kiss you senseless. She chuckles and shakes her head.
“No, I was awake anyway. Here, let me help.” Miranda helps you clear off the coffee table, heading into the kitchen with an armful of bottles and her empty bowl from dinner. You’re right behind her with the rest of the dishes and you immediately make your way to the sink and start washing them - it feels so domestic that it makes Miranda’s heart flutter, and she has to look away and focus on something else so that you can’t see the blush on her cheeks or the yearning that’s surely shining in her eyes.
“Do you want coffee?” she asks, waiting for your affirmative hum before starting to make some. She’s so focused on preparing the coffee machine that she misses you turning off the sink and padding over to her - she yelps as you press against her back, placing your hands on the counter on either side of her and boxing her in. Her heart is racing, skipping beats left and right as your body heat warms her from behind. Drawing in a sharp breath, she turns around to face you.
“Miranda?” Your voice is low and a little shaky, and your cheeks are flushed - gorgeously so, Miranda finds her mouth going dry.
“Yes?” she croaks out.
“Remember how I said I’d kiss you today if you still wanted to?”
All Miranda can do is nod, her mouth hanging open as all the blood rushes to her face.
“Well, I guess I wanted to ask you if you still wanted to kiss me? Because I’m sober now and I still want to kiss you.” You look just as nervous as Miranda feels - she nods again, afraid her voice will betray how badly she wants you.
“Please, say it,” you plead, your eyes wide and earnest. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Y-yes. I- I want to kiss you.”
Your lips curl up into a soft smile and your hands move from the counter to Miranda’s waist, your grip firm as if you’re afraid she’ll run away from you. You press yourself up onto your toes until your face is mere inches away from her own. She can feel your breath on her face, warm and shallow. Her eyes are glued to your lips, wondering when you’ll close the gap - then you do, your lips soft and plush as they press gently against hers.
She allows her eyelids to flutter shut and kisses you back, her own hands reaching out tentatively to cup your cheeks. You smile into the kiss and she takes the opportunity to deepen it - you groan softly into her mouth as her tongue brushes against yours, and she swallows the sound, groaning back in return.
“I didn’t think you’d remember,” she murmurs, her thumb stroking your cheek.
“As if I haven’t been thinking about that since the moment I first met you,” you tease with a seductive grin, before wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her down for a second kiss, even more passionate than the last.
x
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#miranda hilmarson x reader#miranda hilmarson#top of the lake#top of the lake: china girl#i haven't posted in almost 2.5 months and i'm ANXIOUS#hype a girl up 😭#i also clearly couldn't be arsed to come up with a better title i'm SORRY 🥲
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