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#its been almost a week and im still suffering

cinnaminsvga · 1 month

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Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits.

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country.

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend.

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly.

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank).

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored.

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that.

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was.

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment.

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage.

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction.

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!”

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?”

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks.

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding.

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone.

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still.

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him.

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident.

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way.

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture.

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you.

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture.

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat.

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk.

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence.

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away.

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door.

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice.

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off.

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note.

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you.

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole.

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero.

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation.

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you.

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”?

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot.

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly.

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute.

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night.

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road.

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?”

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively.

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically.

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying.

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason.

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching.

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding.

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly.

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face.

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you.

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text.

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time.

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy.

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense.

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him.

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement.

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him.

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same.

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray.

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him.

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream.

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name?

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers.

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform.

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?”

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful.

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything.

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight.

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom.

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through.

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do?

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought.

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift.

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance.

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage.

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology.

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years.

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here.

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts.

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug.

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache.

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor.

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well.

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers.

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten.

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him.

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him.

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick.

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses.

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer.

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you.

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears.

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant.

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder.

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back.

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought.

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster.

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one.

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook.

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind.

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you.

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs.

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again.

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out.

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you.

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent.

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix.

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it.

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow.

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles.

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter.

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope.

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that.

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears.

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer.

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too.

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers.

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare.

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind.

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class.

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel.

But you do know, the universe responds.

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond?

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing.

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation.

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat.

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance?

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air.

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you.

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door.

#bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts #bts fanfic

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bywons · 3 months

Text

୨୧ MY DOPAMINE! — p. jongseong

pairing. tutor!park jay x f!reader w.c. 0.8k tw/cw. organic chemistry rawrr👹, nicknames(sweetheart, pretty girl), kissing on the cheeks genre. non idol au, college/high school au, fluff

sru's note! finals are coming fr and im in need of a handsome tutor smh 😩 feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

m.list ⏐ requests are open! ⏐ navi

"so," jay pushed up his rimless glasses with his slender fingers as he sighed, looking at you, "how do you convert ethyne to benzene?"

it was tough really, both the subject and the situation.

only a week ago you convinced, park jay— the chemistry topper in your class, to tutor you for the upcoming final exams. there was no doubt you weren't even going to get the passing marks at the subject, which was obviously, a shame. but you had to do something! the finals were in a week or so!

but your heart was against convincing jay park to tutor you. it was against the fact that your heartbeat would accelerate everytime he was in the frame, the fact that your pupils would dilate at the sight of him simply adjusting his glasses or his cute face whenever he was solving problems, the fact that you'd find yourself in awe whenever you were lost in his heavenly face.

the fact that dopamine secrets in your body whenever its him.

almost whatever he did, you loved it.

"hey, are you even listening to me?", jay's 'strict tutor' voice snapped you out of your trance.

"h-huh? y-yes!", struggling to actually pay attention to the opened chemistry book in front of you, you lift your head up to meet the firm eyes of jays.

but as soon as you took a glimpse of his blond hair caressing his soft brows with his glasses and rolled arm sleeves to the addition of his beauty, boy oh boy, you were swept away.

"uh huh?", he smirked leaning over the study table, closer to you, "then what's the answer, hmm?"

"it's...", you trailed off, making a fake thinking face to show some level of understanding in the subject to jay, when in reality you had no idea of the tedious chemical reactions, ".... it's uhm-"

"come on sweetheart," sweetheart, "I've taught you this three times already", jay closed the notebook in front of him and sighed, clasping his hands together.

"to be honest jay....", you heavily sigh back, whining as you dug your fingernails in your scalp, mentally cursing chemistry and cursing you lovestruck weak heart, for not being able to concentrate.

"i-i really don't know the answer. i've never been good at chemistry!"

"alright, but is that the excuse you give to the teacher when you fail this semester?"

"no, but-" you roll your eyes, wondering when this was gonna end, but jay cut you off,

"y/n, im gonna ask you the simplest question ever. if you don't get it right, i wont teach you anymore."

this single sentence of jay had you sweating cold, with your heart suffer a crack. Shit. You knew you had to leap for the sun for this one, by hook or by crook.

'cause obviously, you didn't wanna miss your favourite face for a week.

"solve this numerical for me ok?", jay slided a blank workspace with a question on top for you to solve.

you gulped at the question, it was easy but tricky.

few loose strands fondled your cheeks while you worked at the problem, praying to every god that you'd get it right for the sake of jay sticking around.

you groaned, scribbling the whole equation for the second time after you thought it would be right. and if the pressure of the awful subject chemistry wasn't enough, you felt the warm touch of jay's hands, ever so lightly tucking the loose strands behind you ear.

but thank god you had your head down, for your cheeks went crimson.

"i love your hair," jay chuckled, his fingertips still lingering on your cheeks, "come on! you know the answer, hun." hun.

you gulped even harder, and handed him the answer sheet back, manifesting it would be correct. but you were on the verge of keeping cool. jay park smiled at for the second time! and tucked your hair?! oh my—

"hey! i told ya, it's correct!" jay beamed, handing you the paper back.

"finally!", and so you couldn't keep your joy, squealing and giggling. because you got the answer right was a factor, but being able to spend more time with jay made up 99% of it.

but all this time jay admired you as much. so much, that he ignored the tiny mistake done in the numerical he gave, after all he too wanted to be closer the prettiest girl in the world. he rejected tutoring to so many other students in his class, just for his pretty girl. (>.<)

then all of a sudden it came to a halt when you felt a feathery, tinglish sensation on your cheeks, tinting it crimson again.

it was almost unbelievable that jay kissed you, but then he smiled ever so sweetly at you, meanwhile you were losing your mind over this, jaws hung low, eyes widened and cheeks rapidly getting coloured.

"if you manage to get good grades this semester," jay sang, leaning dangerously close to your ears and stealing your breath away as he whispered,

"then i'll kiss you on your lips, pretty girl."

taglist: open! CLICK ON THE LINK TO BE ADDED!

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bas-writes · 3 months

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Bas, I love your writing so much!!!! Im kind of embarrassed to say I have notifs turned on for your posts. I've never requested one, and I know you're probably inundated, but if you are interested, would you do nanami and 44 for the kiss prompt ask? I think it's tentative kisses in the dark?

Latecomers

Character: Nanami Kento Reader: gender neutral (ambiguous body and presentation, no gendered pronouns) CW: reader is wearing glasses, alcohol (both reader and Nanami were drunk prior to events of fic) Word count: 1560 Prompt: Tentative kisses given in the dark. A/N: After a horribly long break, I am finally pecking at the very old kiss drabbles request. If you're still here, Anon, I'm sorry for the unplanned long wait. I hope you will enjoy this little Nanami treat as much as I enjoyed writing it 🤭

The atmosphere was so dense it could be cut with a knife, and the unsettling environment was just a rather minor cause to blame. With nothing but cold hatred he felt towards the wannabe-suburban train stations, Nanami would still take its whole gamut of nuisances, if only he could face it alone.

In contrast to the cold and alien station hall, your presence wasn't unpleasant or unwelcome—but the two of you wanted to be somewhere else so badly it was almost written on your faces. What a misfortune, not only you had been assigned a mission in the same area, but also both of you had missed the last train back to Tokyo, ending up stuck all alone for a few hours to come.

Seated in an appropriate yet painfully close distance, Nanami was staring at the departure board, stubborn, motionless, as if a wrongly paced blink would delay the next train for an extra hour. Hands crossed in his lap, he fiddled with thumbs and fought against the urge to whistle or hum, anything to tune that deaf silence down. You both had attempted to lead a conversation, and both had failed miserably. Words possibly couldn't glue together, and your eyes kept wandering everywhere but each other's paths, what an unbearable pain in the ass.

Nanami had at least the barrier of his glasses providing him succor, but what he could hide from you, had just been drilling him from inside instead. Whenever his glance grazed over you, the memory of the tangy taste of your lips, pressed against his and followed suit by a brush of your warm, wet tongue, hit him like a jackhammer. Even the dim, industrial lightning around had nearly the same taint as that izakaya you had gathered in to celebrate another week of life. A cheap bar, cheap cigarettes filling the air, cheap sake burning your throats—and hasty kisses exchanged through the stolen minute of solitude, awkwardly, leaving strain in his knees as he had leaned over the short table to reach you.

Truly a spur of a moment, caving to his repressed yearning, a decision a drunk fool had made with consequences sober he had to face.

"Express train to—" Timeworn speakers barked into tar-like silence and the both of you jerked up and bumped your elbows. Nanami mumbled an apology, barely audible amidst the recording still echoing through the hall, and forced himself to look at you, as sincerity demanded.

You were hunched-up in your seat, hands rubbing your tight-crossed arms, literally an inch from trembling, no mantle or even a scarf whatsoever. He had noticed you had been dressed a bit too light for a night to spend on railway station, of course he had, but the thought had been pushed at the back of his head as he had squared himself up for a different kind of battle.

Now shame was burning his ears brighter than embarrassment. He had been sitting there all cozy while you suffered right by his side, within an arm reach.

"Do I look that bad?" You snorted, tad forced, as you eyed him struggling with his jacket. "I'm not freezing, don't—"

"I have a pullover." Nanami, dry as ever, threw himself over your words, and pushed a just stripped mantle into your lap.

You opened your mouth, ready to battle for your point, but immediately shut it under the weight of his gaze sneaking over his glasses.

Nanami immediately averted eyes but couldn't cover his ears from you as you, prolonging it awkwardly, cleared your throat, "Hey, lemme at least repay?"

An even dryer response was forcing its way to his lips. Nanami didn't need anything from you, desperately didn't want anything from you, but he couldn't quite bring himself, despite everything, to push you away, "I could use some coffee."

Not until you had got busy with the vending machine at the other side of the hall Nanami let himself take a deeper breath. The low thudding of his pulse drowned all the other sounds: his heart was racing so much he feared it might break free out of his chest and chase after you. He expected as much, the sight of your figure hunched under his jacket could be only powerful beyond imagination, so close and dear, and burning his eyes as you returned closer, with two paper cups in your hands.

"You look quite pale yourself," you tease, unconvincingly with the way your throat squeezed around words. "You sure you don't want your jacket back?"

Wary of the risk of your hands meeting, Nanami took his coffee and muttered a dry thank you. You hunched up again in your seats, the expected express train stopped with a screech somewhere behind your backs, but no one followed the arrival nor the departure.

The hall remained empty and tense.

Coffee from the vending machine tasted horrible but it was warm and helped keeping lips busy. Nanami sipped on his half-heartedly, focused on easing pulse and breath, against his thoughts racing towards the memories he would gladly already forget.

What now? What were you going to do with all of this? Should you act as if nothing ever happened? How can you ever act as if nothing ever happened?

"Nanami—" Your voice caught him off-guard, with a cup right by his lips. His hands budged, some coffee spilled down his chin and dripped on his pullover.

"Ah shit, I'm sorry!" You sprung to your feet as if it indeed was your fault, fumbling with pockets of an unfamiliar jacket, finally seizing a handkerchief out of one. He tried to wipe himself with just a bare hand—but with a surprising resolve you pushed it out the way and dealt with the mess yourself.

"I'm alright," he tried to answer the unspoken question, couldn't bring himself to. The gentle but determined touch of yours left him paralyzed, enchanted, from toes to lips, itching at the faint memory of the kiss you had shared.

The lamp over your heads flickered and your hand dabbed closer, from his chest to his throat, then his chin. Nanami's breath hitched, audibly, tickled at the tips of your fingers gently drying the last droplets of long-forgotten tasteless coffee. The sensation was familiar, was wrong, so inappropriate, so shameless in its simplicity.

You shouldn't do that to him.

And he couldn't hold himself any longer.

Through the thin layer of handkerchief Nanami kissed your fingers, from tips to knuckles, and nuzzled his face into your palm. Begging internally for you to slap or punch him, he wandered towards your wrist, breathed the sweet scent of yours he had learnt by heart the day he held you close for the first and only time. He felt your pulse racing under your skin, swallowed its rhythm like starved, latched on this little vibration with his eyes closed, awaiting the inevitable doom and punishment.

The lamp flickered, power whined in cables and died, leaving the both of you in darkness right as your lips finally met again.

At first you bumped into each other awkwardly, glasses against glasses—the obstacle you tore out of your way almost simultaneously. In contrast to your first kiss, you moved carefully, barely brushing your lips, constantly asking, and never quite answering, and sharing breath in between chaotic breaks.

The unpleasant, chemical taste of coffee seemed to work against you—but as the even worse taste of sake hadn't stopped you back then, you quickly ignored it this time too. Nanami sipped it from you as if your mouth was filled with rose water, gladly swallowing your tongue finally pressing against his. Not until then he had dared to touch you, to pull you closer by the skirts of his own jacket, one hand cradling the back of your head. You snuck fingers into his hair; your nose brushed cute against his as you tilted head to the side, finally losing yourself into the sensation and pulling him into it with you.

The light flickered again, the hum of electronics returned, but you remained linked, catching up on days lost for the awkward dance of adults too skittish to be adult—until sharp fire in lungs forced Nanami to pull away.

With a thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you, you were heavily panting a mere inch away from his face. He felt your moist breath against his skin and already starved to steal it again—but, fighting against himself, he brought the same coffee-stained handkerchief to your lips and dabbed them dry.

You exhaled through your nose, amused, and repeated his gesture from earlier, peppering his fingers with soft kisses.

"It tasted…horrible," Nanami broke the silence first after you recollected yourselves, words faster than the second thought. "The coffee, I mean."

"The kiss too," you admitted and tossed your cup into the nearest trash can, somehow not spoiling the remaining coffee. "How can they sell this crap to people?"

"I feel I owe you a proper one." Faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, Nanami dared to scoot closer. You nuzzled towards him too, sharing the much-needed warmth eagerly now. "Once we're back to Tokyo, I'm taking you to a good place."

"It's a date?" The warmth in your voice, the timbre he loved so much, returned, no remaining trace of embarrassment left.

"It's a date. With breakfast."

More of Kiss Event! I if you liked it, please consider reblogging and/or leaving some feedback ❤️ | you can also support me on kofi! ❤️

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soggyriceee · 11 months

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I Can't Hurt You ~ Ghost NSFW

[ mentions of gunshot wounds, anxiety, trauma and sex. plz like and lmk if there angsty type of stories interest anyone, have a good day <3 ]

It had been 6 weeks since you'd been shot. Once in the leg, once in the arm. For days you had thought you'd lose your arm and leg. All you could really remember was Simon yelling your name while blood covered his hands. Your blood. But, the base surgeons were some of the best and you were at home almost fully recovered. Your husband, Simon Riley, the man who unfortunately was leading that mission you'd suffered injury from, was always by your side. He was on e for giving you your space so having him everywhere you were at was new. But you loved it because the more you saw him and how caring he was towards literally only you, it made your heart flutter.

Ghost was a whole war criminal, why would he spend his time going to the store, getting flowers, cards, clothes gifts, all that stuff? Because he was so deeply in love with you, it was like his money and time quite literally belonged to you. He spent hours trying to learn to cook for you since you were glued to the bed.

" Tell me if it needs more salt." He demanded, towering over you as your sims started a house fire on your laptop screen. " Its good baby please stop bothering me now." You laughed, wiping some of the homemade pasta sauce from your lip. As much as he did annoy you, you couldn't ask him to really leave you alone.

He wasn't stupid, he knew that the whole happy persona you put on in front of him was fake. You were trying to act tough and brave for him. Independence was something you both had and in your eyes alone, it was embarrassing to be the first in the relationship to need help. Consistent help. Ghost was good at reassuring to you that he did not see you as weak, he actually saw you as brave, strong. " You survived two gun shot wounds at once lovie.. that makes you stronger than me." He whispered to her as you quietly sobbed in the hospital bed a few weeks back.

And this injury definitely caused some small bumps for you both. For example.. sex. It wasn't that it was different, it literally was not happening. Despite you being able to move almost all on your own, stairs were still a bit hard, he wouldn't touch you unless it was to help you. And as much as you loved how gentle and genuinely kind and caring he was for you, you needed a bit more. " Simon.." You'd whisper in his ear when it was close to your given bedtime. By Simon. "Yes my love? Do you need anything?" He asked, looking away from the news on your guys TV.

You moved to sit on his lap, struggling to raise your injured leg a bit. But you made it onto his lap successfully and with mi animal pain. But he sensed it immediately. " Lovie.." You shushed him and placed your arms around his neck. " I appreciate all the care you've been giving me.. but I need a bit more." You spoke softly, eyeing his lips. You began to move in but you could tell he began to panic, jolting his head back and hitting the bed frame. You looked up at him, your chest feeling like it just got shot this time. " I-i can't.. Im sorry." He had took you off his lap before standing and walking out the room and rubbing the back of his head.

It had been about a week since that encounter. It hurt you, and you definitely cried about it after. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night, but still coming every 30 to check on you, even when you were asleep. Neither of you really spoke about it. And you could assume thats what made the relationship more awkward now. While yes he did sleep in the bed again, and he was still taking care of you, the conversations were small and minimal. " He won't touch me Soap.. I don't know what to do. We used to have sex almost every day at least twice a day." You spoke into your phone as you looked up " How to Get My Husband To Have Sex With Me After Gunshot Wound". Almost no good articles came up. I mean, who really goes through this?

" Im sure he'll come around. I mean, he did see you literally almost die in his arms. You mean a lot to him and I think he's just terrified of hurting you more." He said through the speaker. He was on base, doing paperwork for the next mission. Another you and Ghost would be sitting out on. " Its been almost three months. Im practically healed... it just sucks because I feel like a..like a disease. He won't touch me in any way other than to help me. Even when I dont need it." You sighed.

Simon had gone to the store, grabbing you ice cream you had mentioned to yourself you wanted to get at some point and your positive other things to go along with it. Despite that awkward encounter he was still there to make you feel better. " He hasn't really said anything to me but you know how he is. Try talking to him again. I have to go, Price is calling." He said before hanging up abruptly. You sighed and looked around. You needed to get up and do.. something.

You moved your laptop to the side and began to stand. A minor pain stabbed your injured leg, causing a whimper of pain to leave your lips. As you opened the bedroom door, you heard Simon return into the house. " Lovie? Im home with that ice cream you wanted." He yelled from downstairs. You moved towards the stairs, gripping the handles and moving slowly. As your uninjured leg hit the bottom stair, your injured one again gave your a little trouble. "Shit" You squeaked, gripping the handle more. " Lovie?" He walked over swiftly to the stairs, dropping the ice cream and spoon that was in his hands. " What are you doing?! If you wanted to come down you should've waited for me to carry you down." He began to approach you but your hand hit his chest, stopping him. " I-i can do it mys-self." You grunted. Finally, your injured leg was on the same step as you. " You can't thats why your face is scrunched up in pain just let me help-" " GO AWAY! I dont need you here every two seconds simply just to help me. You won't do so much as cuddle with me let alone have sex with me. Im not made of glass im a human im your wife for crying out loud but you treat me l-like im not. leave me alone!" You screamed at him, tears welling in your eyes.

His face looked hurt, but also surprised. " L-lovie I just-" You cut him off by turning away, moving back up the stairs. He wanted to help you, but you had made it clear you wanted him to back off. You made it back up the one step and walked into the bedroom, slamming the door. You moved onto the bed, holding one out of the 10 stuffed animals Simon bought you and silently, again, cried into it. You felt bad, but at the same time you didn't. You were able to tell him finally how you felt. You heard his boots at the door, no matter how hard he tried to keep quiet. And he just stayed there. Listening to you cry but feeling too scared to say, or do anything.

The next morning you woke up and Simon wasn't there to wake you this time. You rubbed your eyes as the sun peaked into the room. " Simon..?" You asked, your voice a bit hoarse. You looked around and noticed a rectangular, long box at the end of the bed. You reached over and grabbed it.

Your right, ive been too overbearing. I'm sorry lovie..

You opened the box and inside was a cute lingerie set. It was with and pink, a little bow in the center of the bra. Your cheeks turned a bright red as you read the second note inside.

I hope you like it. I hope I see you in it soon <3

Just as you finished reading, Simon walked in the room. In his hands was a tray full of French toast, coffee and fruit. His eyes met yours, his big puppy eyes. " Oh I was.. expecting you to still be asleep." He chuckled softly, placing your breakfast on the night stand. " Im sorry for y-" For the first time in almost three months his lips touched yours. You gasped into the kiss, your heart going a 100 miles per hour. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you up into him.

His lips yearned for yours. He slowly sat next to you, keeping your lips connected. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him just as passionately back. He broke away, sighing. " Dont apologize. You were right. And plus.." He right hand snaked up to your cheek, cupping it. " I've missed touching you like this." He whispered. His lips landed on yours again, this time a bit more passionately. You moaned into the kiss, a signal to him that you felt good. His free hand moved up your body, slowly. You had nothing on but his hoodie and some underwear. His favorite outfit of yours.

" Is this okay?" He asked against your lips. You nodded, smiling softly. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt genuinely happy. He smiled and gently pushed you down on the bed, fixing you a bit so that your head was on the pillow. He hovered over you but you could tell he was still nervous as ever. " You can touch me anywhere.. Simon. Im not hurt anymore." You said softly, looking into his worried eyes. " I know but.. w-what if I get too aggressive-" You took his hand from beside your head and smiled. " How about this. If im hurting, ill call out.. "strawberries." Then you'll know to stop." You suggested, smiling up at him still. He pursed his lips but nodded.

He leaned down, attaching his lips to your again. This time, with lust and desperation. You could tell how much you both missed each others touch. Your hands slid under his black hoodie, tracing every ab until you got to the top. He hummed at your soft fingers against his skin, breaking away from the kiss. He moved down to your neck, gently sucking your skin. His right hand slowly, like criminally slow, slid up your thigh, gripping it every now and then.

Your eyes fluttered closed, your bottom lip trapped under your top teeth. Small, quiet whimpers left your lips every time he'd suck your neck. He left behind big and small marks, red and purple mix. He pushed himself off your body a bit, smiling at his work. " You look beautiful my love.." He whispered. You blushed and looked down. You saw the tent in his sweats, his Calvin Klein boxers peaking through at the top. His hand gripped your chin, gently moving your head to look up at him. " Don't be shy." He smirked. His hand that was still on your thigh was now at your wet core, It was throbbing for him at this point. Desperate.

" Awh.. your so wet.. show me how deprived you are from my touch baby.." He whispered, his thumb moving in small circles exactly at your swollen clit. Your body jerked up, a small moan leaving your lips. You watched his hands, only turning you on more. He watched you, his eyes not telling you what he was feeling. You felt embarrassed and began to slowly cover your face. He growled and grabbed your hands, pinning them above your head. " What did I tell you? Dont be shy.. I dont wanna have to stop you from cumming baby.. especially if you deserve it." He said, slowly moving his eyes down your body.

You shook your head, grinding your hips against him more. " Awh baby your so fucking cute when you get desperate like this." He sighed. You felt his thumb stop moving and instead, two of his fingers pulling your soaked panties down for you. He tossed them off the bed, licking his lips at your exposed pussy. " Fuck.. I wish you'd yelled at me sooner my love.. its gonna be so hard trying to hold back." He said before pulling off his hoodie. He tossed it away, before grabbing your knees, spreading them apart.

Yes this was your husband, but after being celibate for three months, you were nervous. And he felt it. He looked at you from through your legs, smiling. " Let me take care of you.. you deserve it baby." He smiled, kissing your inner thigh. He kissed down, surely leaving marks on your thighs, before finally reaching your dripping pussy again. He kissed it, earning a desperate whine from you. He chuckled before sliding his tongue through your folds, a gasp coming from you.

He slowly spread your legs more far apart. " Am I hurting you?" He asked, looking at your injured leg. " No.. remember ill say strawberry if you do." You said, patting his head gently. He smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to your pussy. It was on full display for him. He placed his hands on your hips, moving you onto his tongue. His tongue immediately went to your aching clit, sucking it ever so gently. You let out a satisfied whimper, your eyes again fluttering closed. He worked his tongue on your clit, sucking it, kissing it. His hands definitely started to make bruises on your skin but you were happy with that. Because it felt like normal. Like the sex you both used to have.

" O-oh Simon~' You'd whimper below him, gripping his brown hair. Your knees tried to connect but he gently, still worried about hurting you, kept them apart. " Don't close your legs until im done with you." He said, his lips glossy with your juices. It was such a hot sight to see. it felt like you guys were teenagers all over. Horny and desperate. His lips went back to working on your pussy, sucking your clit perfectly. " Because you had been deprived of your regular orgasms, you felt this one building fast. And it was surely gonna hit hard.

Your legs began to shake and you began to let out pathetic, desperate whimpers. " Sim-Simon I f-feel it.. shit." You cried out, gripping his hair and the sheets. He only moved his tongue faster, pulling you onto his face more. He was desperate. You could tell. He even began to moan against your pussy, looking up at you. " Thats it baby.. feel good for me. You deserve it." He said against your pussy, his middle and ring finger sliding in to help his tongue out. " Cum on my fucking face." he growled, moving his fingers faster.

His tongue moved with his fingers and quickly, you felt your body release its high. Your whole body began to shake, tears forming at the corners of your eyes. He whimpered quietly as he devoured every last drop of your cum. " Fuck baby.." He whimpered against your pussy as your body still jerked from the intensity of your orgasm. He moved his lips slowly against your pussy, sighing. He eventually sat up, his lips, nose and chin completely covered in your juices.

" You did amazing my love. Im so proud." He said, smiling down at you. You were out of breath, your eyes still shut. You felt him kiss your neck before your lips. " Do you want to continue baby? I can take care of myself. I want you to feel rested-" You pulled him down by the collar, your lips smashing onto his. He moaned into the kiss, smiling. " Yes.. I want to continue." You said after pulling away from him.

He kissed your cheeks before standing from the bed, pulling his pants down. His dick was huge. But, after three months of nothing, not even self pleasure, his dick looked..bigger. You had to admit, it made you a bit nervous. You watched as he pulled his boxers down, his whole body exposed in front of you. You quickly felt your clit throbbing all over as your eyes looked at every part of his body. " Are you positive you want this my love?" He asked, crawling back on the bed with you. He hovered over you, looking at your naked body as well.

" I swear Simon.. this is what I want." You said, looking up at him. He nodded before placing a soft but passionate kiss on your lips again. You kissed back as you felt him position himself at your entrance. " Just.. take my hand. And squeeze as hard as you want if it hurts." You nodded up at him. Despite how sex deprived you both were, how desperate, he still was patient and careful with you. He didn't want to do anything other than take care of you. " Okay.." He breathed out. Slowly, you felt him push into you. By the time his tip was in, you had already felt how thick he really was. He continued until he felt your hand grip him hard. He stopped.

" A..are you okay?" He breathed out, looking into your eyes. He was a little more than halfway in you by now and he felt like he could cum just off that alone. " I just.. need to get u-used to the feeling." You said, your other hand gripping his forearm. He nodded, kissing your cheek, then ear then neck. You loved his caring and gentle side. If you weren't injured, he'd probably be a bit less gentle, but still respectful of your needs.

" You can keep going." You smiled up at him after a minuet or so. " Are you positive?" He asked, moving his lips away from your breasts, again leaving behind more red and purple marks. You nodded and slowly, he pushed the rest of himself in. You both let out a gasp, his balls hitting the bottom of your ass as he went all the way in. " Fuck." He groaned before moving his hips back and forth slowly. With each thrust, a whimper left your lips. His head fell in the crook of your neck, slowly his hips picking up the pace.

You didnt have to ask for anything. He could read your body and what it was that you needed easily. You wanted him to go faster? He was already doing it before you moved your lips to ask. Your nails dug into his back, his hips now slamming into yours. " Yes Simon! y-your fucking me so well." You moaned, both of you not caring if your neighbors heard your moans. His hand slipped around your neck, his eyes hooded. " Yea? I am baby? Is my dick making you go.. fucking crazy?" He moaned, his free hand on your hip.

You whimpered and nodded, your body jolting up with each thrust of his. " U-Use your words..lemme hear that pretty voice." He whispered into your ear, slamming his hips into yours. You couldn't feel any pain. It was like all you needed was him fucking you silly. " I-i'm crazy..Im crazy for y...your dick Simon." You whimpered, barely able to make out words. He chuckled and kept his hand on your neck, moving at the same consistent pace.

Above you, his eyes were closed, squeezed shut matter of fact. His thrusts began to become a bit inconsistent, signaling to you he was close. " Baby.. I-ive missed this.. this pussy so much.. your gonna make..me fill you up." He groaned, his grip on you tightening. "Your gonna take.. all my cum to. Every..last..drop." He said, slamming his hips into yours with every word. You felt your stomach start to cramp and your legs shake. Both of you slowly became louder with your moans, your hands resting on his chest.

You could feel his arms wrap around your waist, hugging you as his body rested on top of you. His thrusts got sloppy, and he at this point, was a whimpering mess. " Oh baby.. im gonna..im gonna cum." he mumbled into your boobs. You tried to tell him the same but you again, felt your high wash over you. Your whole body froze, your vision weirdly went white for a quick 5 seconds. You didnt even realize Simon slamming into you fast, chasing his high. "F-fuck!" You felt his warm cum shoot into you, his body jerking as he tried to stay on top of you. But he failed, collapsing on top of you.

" s-shit.. Simon." you moaned, closing your eyes. His chest rose and fell fast, holding you tight as his cum slowly seeped out of you. He gently pushed himself back into you, wanting all of his cum stuffed into you. " I know baby.." he said, his voice tired.

both of you stayed like this for about 10 minuets. he eventually pulled out, watching your body react. " Are you hurt?" He asked, finally realizing his grip on your hips left finger marks. You smiled and shook your head. " I feel the best ive felt in three months baby.. thank you." You whispered, smiling up at him. He nodded before sliding off the bed. " I know.. I said I wanted to see you in this but. You looked beautiful and sexy regardless." He smiled before placing the box on the floor. You sat up, stretching.

" Lets shower and eat breakfast. We can go shopping. I want today tp be everything you want." He said as he lifted you up bridal style, carrying you to the bathroom. " I love you Simon.." You whispered, watching him as he carried you. He smiled and kissed your nose. " I love you more my love.. ill love you no matter what."

the end

#ghost #simon riley #cod x you #ghostcod #call of duty x reader #ghost x you #Simon Riley x you

315 notes · View notes

hornyfor-redacted-onmain · 2 months

Text

Longing

Pieces of My Heart - Chapter 10 Stray Kids OT8 x reader, Soulmate AU

Masterlist | Next Part

Chan Hey, just checking in. How’s your dad? Y/N He’s good, awake and lucid Doctors say everything went smoothly, he should make a full recovery Chan That’s good. Y/N How are the boys? Chan Missing you. Img.png Y/N Tell them I miss them too Chan I will. Give your dad our best wishes. Y/N Thanks

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Sophie Hey, I just got your message Are you okay? Y/N Don’t worry, I’m fine. My dad’s okay too I didn’t get a chance to update you Had a lot on my mind Sophie No, yeah. I get it Y/N How was the day 2 concert? Sophie Just as amazing as day 1 Well, actually it was a bit weird I felt like the members weren’t as playful as the first time around. It seemed like they had a lot on their mind too … Maybe it was just one of those days Y/N Yeah, I guess Sophie Either way, it’s a shame we didn’t get to hang out more before you left I’m glad your dad’s okay Y/N Me too. If I’m ever back in the city, I’ll let you know Sophie Of course. In the meantime, want to see some videos from last night? Y/N Sure!

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Y/N You sure you don’t want anything from the store? Mom I’m sure sweetie, thank you. Y/N Ok Mom Hey, while I have a chance to talk to you without your dad listening in. We need to talk about your soulmates. Y/N What about them? Mom Sweetheart, I remember when I met my soulmate. We were inseparable for weeks. I couldn’t even imagine how hard it is to be away from them right now. Y/N Mom … Mom I mean, even now, not being able to see her makes me uncomfortable. Why do you think we have our weekly Friday night meet ups? Y/N I thought that was just an excuse to go out and complain about Dan from finances Mom You and I both know I don’t need an excuse to complain about Dan. But that’s not the point. I can’t stand not being with Lucy. And we’re only platonic soulmates. From what I’ve heard, that’s definitely not the case with you. Y/N Mom! Mom You should be with your soulmates. Y/N Dad’s still in recovery, mom You can’t take care of him yourself, you have work and your health issues … You need help. They understand, we can make it work Besides, they’re on tour. I was going to have to be away from them for a while anyway It’s not like I could just go on tour with them Mom I’m sure that’s not true. Y/N Im almost back at the room. We can talk about this later

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Soulmates

Y/N Hey Did you guys land yet? Seungmin Few minutes ago Felix Hi!!! How are you?! I’m good Felix, thank you ^^ Seungmin Img.png Img.png Img.png Felix YAH! Seungmin wtf!??! Seungmin Not my fault you all fell asleep on the plane Felix So you decided to photograph us?!!? Seungmin Blackmail material Minho I’m going to commit murder Y/N Awww, you guys look so cute I hope you guys get some rest … Guys? Wait he wasn’t serious about the murder was he? Hyunjin Hi baby I miss you Jisung I miss you too! Hyunjin I miss them more! Chan Guys, it’s not a competition Felix But if it is, I definitely miss them more >:) Y/N Guys, Minho wasn’t serious about killing Seungmin, was he? … Guys?

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Jeongin Did you have breakfast yet? Y/N Shit, no I’ve been busy. I had to take my dad to his doctor’s appointment today and then I had to go do groceries Jeongin :( Y/N Sorry Innie. I’ll go get a snack rn Jeongin You haven’t been eating a lot lately … You know coffee doesn’t count as a meal, right? Y/N I know Sorry :( Jeongin You need to take care of yourself. I’m worried about you Y/N I will, I promise Jeongin I’ll remind you if you don’t. I swear, you’re worse than Channie-hyung Y/N D: I’m not that bad Jeogin … What did you just eat? It’s disgusting Please never eat that again Y/N You take that back Ham and Jelly toast is delicious and I refuse to accept this slander Plus its an easy snack Jeongin I will pay you to never eat that again Please Stop! DID YOU JUST ADD HOT SAUCE?!!!? Y/N Suffer

0o0o0

Mom I had a talk with my boss about work. He’s agreed to let me work from home for the next few months. Y/N Oh, that’s good. Now you can spend more time with dad during breaks and lunch … Mom It also means that I won’t need your help around the house anymore. Y/N Mom, we’ve talked about this. I’m not leaving you guys! Mom It’s been almost a month. Your soulmates are almost done with their tour You should go see them. Y/N I appreciate the effort mom, I really do. But can you just drop this? Mom No, I won’t. Why are you forcing yourself to be so unhappy? You think I don’t notice how stressed and upset you’ve been lately? You’re not eating well, you’re not getting a lot of sleep. Honey, I’m worried. Being away from your soulmates for so long so soon after meeting can’t be good for you. Or them! Y/N They have each other, they’ll be fine. Mom That’s not how this works, and you know it. Have you even talked to them about it? Y/N I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now. Mom You can’t run away from your problems forever.

0o0o0

Soulmates

Minho 커피 원해? (anyone want coffee?) Jisung ㅇㅇ (yup) Felix 내!!!! (yes!!!!) Chan 주세요. (please.) Seungmin 됐어요 (im good) Y/N I mean, if you’re offering It might be a bit cold by the time you get here though Minho Ahh, wrong chat Sorry Jisung Wait a minute! Since when do you read Korean?!! Y/N I don’t??!! I just used google translate Although I did recognize 내! That means yes :D Minho 귀엽다 (cute) Changbin Waa, our soulmate is so smart. Y/N :D Don’t drink too much coffee though. I’ve been told it is not a meal >:( Im talking to you, Chan Chan I have no idea what you’re talking about Y/N >:( Jeongin >:( Felix >:( Jisung >:( Chan It’s only my second cup today! And the first one was 3 hours ago! Y/N IT’S ONLY 9AM! Chan … Felix I’m going to kill you

0o0o0

Y/N Hey, can I ask for some advice? I need an unbiased opinion Sophie Well I’m not sure I’d consider myself unbiased. I’m definitely Han biased, that’s for sure. ;) Y/N It’s about my soulmate Sophie OH! I totally forgot about that, you haven’t talked about them at all! Y/N Yeah, between everything with my dad and then school and stuff … My mom has been on my ass these past few weeks about it Sophie About what? Y/N She thinks its unhealthy for me to be away from them She has this scary close bond with her soulmate, a childhood friend of hers. And she can’t imagine being away from her, so she thinks that I need to go be with my soulmate But I’ve been refusing, and now every time I see her it feels like she’s seconds away from starting another argument I’m just so tired of all the arguing, and wondering if maybe she’s right I have been having a harder time getting sleep Sophie Oh wow, that’s …. Wow. Y/N yeah Sophie I’m not sure you want my honest opinion right now. Y/N Please, I do. I need someone that isn’t my mom to be straight up with me. Am I being irrational? Sophie Well, first of all, being away from your soulmates is definitely not easy. But It’s also not a big deal, and long distance relationships work fine even between new soulmates. So maybe your mom is projecting a little bit. But I don’t think that’s the problem here. Y/N ??? Sophie Why does the idea of leaving to be with your soulmates bother you so much? I mean, when I found Alexis I was overjoyed, but I still didn’t have time to see him a lot. We both had school and work, and it was hard to find time to spend together. Honestly, I would have taken any opportunity I had to be with him. And yet here you are, turning down all of your mom’s offers. I feel like something else is at play here than just your mom’s pushiness. Y/N … Sophie I told you you wouldn’t like my opinion. Y/N No, you’re right Fuck, you’re right Sophie I usually am :) Y/N Thank’s Sophie, I really needed someone to knock some sense into me. Sophie Glad I could help. Want some memes? Y/N Yes, please!

0o0o0

Y/N Mom. I’m sorry You were right, I want to be with my soulmates. I really appreciate everything you’ve done to give me the opportunity to be with them. And I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn about it. But Mom, I feel like you’re pushing me away. I feel like you don’t want me here. My soulmates will never be more important than you. You’re my mom, and I worry about you and dad. I worry about you guys being by yourselves, about being away from you. I’m scared and I just feel like everything is moving too fast. Can you call me when you get off work? I love you.

0o0o0

Y/N We need to talk Chan That doesn’t sound good Y/N It’s nothing bad, I promise Chan Okay? Y/N My dad has been getting better. He’s walking now. Chan That’s great! I’m glad your dad’s okay. Y/N Yeah Chan I have a feeling that’s not what you wanted to talk about, though. Y/N They managed to talk with a neighbor, and he agreed to drive my dad to his appointments if my mom can’t take him. And I started taking online classes. Chan Huh? Y/N Chris I think we need to talk about what happens when you guys are done with your tour.

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minho-hoho · 2 years

Text

Yandere!ENHYPEN's reaction to their S/O slapping them

genre... yandere! pairing... yandere!enhypen x gn!reader! warning... cursing, yandere themes and behaviour, violence, small caps intended etc...! wc...1.7k! note... yall, no month has ever been so hectic im so sorry, like ive been trying to deal with my feelings (not abt tumblr, for the first time ever im starting to like someone sooo) and i got sick (again, yes im sick every two weeks) bedridden, and still am but its okay. just idk now expect more fluff since im more in a lovey stage bc of that little someone :>!

MASTERLIST

이 희승 Lee Heeseung

it all started after a heated argument about you not being able to go out with some of your friends

you were starting to get really annoyed and angry at your boyfriend's over-the-counter possessiveness and protectiveness

you just wanted to go outside and enjoy yourself, without him for once

it was basically a yelling match and you were starting to get seriously frustrated by the situation

suddenly, you felt your body move by itself

and in a fit of rage, your hand flew to Heeseung's face

it didn't hit you immediately, you were so enraged you didn't notice the shock and disbelief on Heeseung's face

you were breathing heavily and tried to calm yourself down. to you, the world had stopped for minute, you clearly weren't aware of your surroundings

but Heeseung made sure to snap you back to reality with his livid voice

“what the fuck did you just do?”

“what? it's nowhere near as bad as anything you've done to me anyways” you retorted, still on your high

he threw a death glare your way, that you didn't even notice

“i think that someone here” he came closer to you and looked down at you “needs to be taught a lesson”

and just like that, you were dragged to a dreaded place, still seeing red

박 제이 Park Jay

to be honest, you didn't how did you get so far in an argument

you should have already been locked up, but yet you weren't, you were here, screaming your lungs out, tears rolling down your cheeks, trying to put some sense into your psychotic “boyfriend”

at this point, you couldn't even remember what you were originally arguing about, you were basically buying time before getting locked up

but the more you argued, the madder you got

you wanted Jay to get a taste of his own medicine so bad, even if it was just a little, even if the consequences could be almost deadly

you wanted to hit on his ego, to feel even tiny bit embarrassed to be treated in such a way

you were quite weak, but you took all the remaining strength in your body and gave him the biggest slap

the sound of your hand on his face resonated through the whole house, and what you felt like pmmthe whole universe

it felt good, but you now knew, that there was no buying time anymore

you were doomed, and you knew it too well, but you were at a point where you were just waiting for him to end you by inadvertence

Jay forcefully pushed you onto the ground and took a few seconds to take a look at you

he took your leg and dragged you across the floor and stairs to the basement not even taking a look at your suffering self

he couldn't care less, all he saw was rage and madness, he couldn't believe how bold you were and made sure to teach you and unforgettable lesson

심 제이크 Sim Jake

you didn't even remember the last time you argued with Jake

it was always pretty sweet with him, but only recently you started to take notice of the manipulation

you started to notice how the way he treated you was far from normal, and it was rapidly but carefully bulding in you anger and resentment towards Jake, who didn't really notice the subtle changes in your behaviour

it was after him begging for you two to not go out on a date that you lost it

you started screaming right at his face and pouring all the contents of your heart on him, insults after insults were thrown, taking him aback

but he still got the situation under control, he knew you very well, and this outbursts of yours was going to end in his favour

again, he used his best technique, manipulation. he tried, but despite his best efforts, you saw right through it

and you managed to get even more enraged, if that was even possible

you took angry steps towards Jake and waste a second to slap him harshly

a wave of anger came over Jake, but he knew better to act put of anger. the last thing he'd ever was to appear as the bad guy

he was going to use your act to victimise himself and make YOU the bad guy

and that's how he put you back into your place, and filled you with immeasurable guilt

박 성훈 Park Sunghoon

you usually always tip-toed when you were with Sunghoon, which was all the time

but being with such a person lead to built up frustration and anger, that you always made sure to never unleash onto him, knowing damn well that he wasn't going to spend a single second trying to understand you

but today was different, nothing seemed to go your way, everything seemed like it was trying to push your buttons further and Sunghoon was no exception

everything he did seemed to bug you more than usual, and today was not the day you were up to deal with his quite annoying teasing

you tried to tell him to stop, but he didn't want to listen driving you crazier

after another remark from him, your body started dmoving on its own and you slapped his face with all of your strength

your eyes widened before his did, and before he could even compute your bold act, apologies started spilling our of your mouth, tears already forming in your eyes

but to your surprise, Sunghoon just started laughing, his laugh getting crazier by the second, scaring you but nevertheless, you kept the apologies coming until they almost made no sense

“shut up” and you immediately did, he then grabbed your hair and dragged you too your room

“you've gotten so bold and mean and for what?” he shook his head “i've done nothing but be nice and you repay me like this?” he tugged at your hair harshly as you were struggling on the floor

“i guess i should have known better, you are a brat after all. i hope that what you'll be going be through today will be enough for you to finally understand.” he took a look at your pitiful figure “not like i mind pushing you anyways”

김 선우 Kim Sunoo

where did this rage even come from? maybe it was from being locked away from the world, trapped with someone you absolutely loathed. who knew, what mattered was the fact that Sunoo's clingy behaviour was greatly pissing you off

his recent jealousy was way more overbearing these days, and you couldn't stand him being attached to your hip after acting in such deranged ways.

hell, everything he did seemed to piss you off in some ways and you told him multiple times but you were met with a pouting Sunoo which irked you even more

but this time it was too much

your head was hurting and the lats thing you needed was Sunoo yelling at you for a reason you didn't even know, you assumed it was because of his jealousy

you argued back, todl him to shut up repeatedly but to no avail, it only angered him more

and that's when you did it

you slapped him, you could say goodbye to your head because he was now screaming his head off and you of course, received a slap back

all you could do was sob uncontrollably on the floor, begging for all the screaming to stop

양 정원 Yang Jungwon

the only reason an argument with Jungwon got so far, was only because he found it entertaining to see you so engaged as if you were going to change his mind, he found you quite adorable like that

but now he had enough of seeing you scream, he did prefer seeing you docile and calm, and he would be lying if he didn't want his peace and quiet

after some eye rolling, he told you off, having not listened to anything you've said, not really caring

“did you even listen to me at all?” you said angrily, Jungwon smirked

“of course not, why would i?” he laughed “now just shut up before i get angry”

you were boiling inside, you felt frustrated, could nothing get through his head? if words didn't, maybe actions would

and right then and there, you slapped him, not with much force, you just wanted to get your point across

but if he was feeling nice earlier, he sure wasn't now

he didn't plan on punishing you today, but now, to him at least, it was the only option left

“i tried being nice with you but i guess you didn't get the memo, hm?” without leaving you the chance to answer he grabbed your arm and brought his face close to yours

“i suppose violence is the only way you can understand who's in control”

西村力 Nishimura Riki

you two were passionately arguing as always

spitting venom at each other, fighting your sides for your dear lives, too stubborn to stop and apologise

you didn't even remember why you were arguing, you were just arguing to argue, in your minds, there was no way you were going to lose this battle

red with rage, you couldn't help but get even angrier seeing Riki shooting daggers at you

it only drove you further in you indignation and furor

you knew how he pushed every single one of your buttons, and this was the last straw

insulting your loved ones, especially after taking you away from them, was just too much for you to bear

the second your processed his words your hand flew across the room to his face, leaving a huge mark on his cheek

“i guess this shuts you up, huh?” you said snarkily, still riding your high seeing Riki mouth wide opened

“okay i don't where the fuck did you get your confidence from, but know that i'm going to make you pay for this” now your eyes widened and gulped as you heard him speak

he pulled your hair to bring you closer to him before speaking in your ear

“i'm going to make sure you won't ever use these hands of yours in such ways”

PERM TAG LIST! : @stacey-stonem, @sh1mzu, @axartia, @echantedrose, @leeknowbuttsmasher, @nikipedia07, @deafeningballoonnacho, @sristsblog

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silversatin2105 · 6 months

Text

Inspired by the response from Grand line dreams Angst ask about severely injured reader

Writer’s comments:

This is a response to the ask answered by the user known as @grandlinedreams, this is my take on a best case scenario, thank you so much for your permission to post

TW: Angst, mentions of medial stuff, potential character death, if I’ve missed anything please let me know and I’ll add them to the list

It had been two weeks and three days since (Y/N) had been severely injured, you had survived the reaper’s scythe that night, its amazing how you did, you were decimated, deep lacerations on your arms and chest, before Law even got to you half a pint of your blood had already been spilled, without hesitation that day Law had carried your dying form to the Polar Tang and emergency surgery had to be performed.

Blood had to be warmed and prepped, bandages had to be removed and the wounds under sutured after Law checked for signs of internal bleeding and any shrapnel that entered the wounds had to be removed and then fish skin was placed upon the wounds before being re-dressed, when the blood was ready it was allowed to flow into your veins as the other arm took in IV fluids, no need for a sedative you were already out of it.

The first night was always the fist challenge you would face, At this moment deaths embrace felt comforting, the natural next step but what about him?

Law had always feared that your devil may care attitude would lead to calamity and so right he was, you fucked up and now the Captain of the Polar Tang had to deal with the very real threat of loosing you, On one rare conversation he would tell you of the brave man whom gave him a second shot at life, to tell you the truth that’s the first time he opened up to you, hearing his story you vowed to do anything for him, become anything for him and right now there was a very real chance that would be a corpse.

No were the thoughts in your mind as you channeled all your energy, all your might, everything into breathing, you were not going to add to the myriad of mental scars to him, NO MORE SUFFERING, breathing in and out you fought, the heart beating in your chest like terrible thunder as in the reality that your coma had sealed you from, you lay heaving concerning law.

“Damn have you developed an infection?” Law asked wiping your brow with a clean cloth, the male grimaced lip bitten as he checked your wounds, a few were red and hot to the touch so he applied IV antibiotics to your course of treatment, the second hurdle in your journey to spit death in the face and draw another waking breath, raw emotion galvanizing your resolve, fight on, live on.

After a few days the antibiotics took effect, the second hurdle back to the land of the living almost cleared, Law was still taking his meals by your bedside, still cautious- On alert, and He left the running of the ship mostly to Beppo after forming a plan of attack for the next moves to make, like before he spoke to you, Asked what was going thought your mind?, No doubt he’s seen some wild occurrences, since his alliances with straw hat, but in truth, seeing you that day on the battlefield, he never dared to hope that you’d draw another waking breath.

Heck he was so worried that he had taken to shifted bathroom breaks with other members of the crew watching you and this was the norm for two weeks and four days, He must have had too much coffee that morning as he couldn’t wait for cover, he made his apologies to your sleeping form and bolted for the bathroom, as he walked back to the med bay he sighed- I better get another cup of coffee later for tonight..im so fucking tired …when’s the last time I slept, were his thoughts as he walked into the room where you were being kept, his tired and drained eyes gaze out to a surprise.

It was you, sitting up in bed your (insert color) eyes looking at him with a sort of tired look, you had seen better days then again so had he, he looked disheveled, sleep deprived and honestly so fucking done, in that moment no words were spoken, just a quietness as your eyes locked, ten minutes had passed and then it happened, you began to speak.

“I’m so sorry captain, I messed up… their Haki was too strong, I promise it won’t happen again” you told him an apology, one of the things you fought through death for, Law was stunned, the first thing from you after three weeks was an apology.

“Is that it… after three weeks the first words out of your mouth is an apology, We’ve all been worried sick, you damned idiot !” Law went on to say in a harsh tone, cold words masking the internalized concern he daren’t let himself feel, the emotions he stonewalled from his own heart, Law in this moment was as before romantically hidden behind a sheet of Plexiglas.

You looked up at him with shock in your eyes, you expected this but you didn’t expect it to hurt so much, tears welling in your eyes you slid back onto to the bed clutching the blanket to your chest, Law grumbled and sighed laying his hat on the bedside table resting his head by your side, a hand timidly reaching out to yours, within a moment, you felt the roughness of his fingertips upon your hand, the hand of your captain, you froze in response, you go to turn to look at him.

“D-don’t look at me right now. Please…” Law orders as you oblige him to take in the warmth of your hand, the pulse on your wrist, a pulse that those three weeks ago could have been taken from him, could he finally bring himself to hope now that you were once more amongst the living, fifteen minutes past as he assessed you, got his heart ready and then he began to speak.

“Listen up, I am going to say something, take it as you will…the truth is (Y/N) I feel deep kinship for you, since you joined the crew you’ve shown unwavering loyalty, courage in the face of adversity. What I mean to say is…I love you”

Law speaks to you, the world in that moment shattering, your eyes widen as he presses his head close to you back, and you blush as Law finally falls asleep after three weeks of hell.

You go to move and as you do, you feel an arm move carefully around you, light snoozing sounds from the captain of the heart pirates can be heard, and so in that moment you smile lightly and fall asleep again.

“It’s easy to promise someone that you’d die for them but even more difficult to promise that you'd live for someone"

END SCENE

#one piece #law x reader #law x y/n #inspired by #Grandlinedreams #angst #writers gonna write #fan fic

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softshrimpy · 5 months

Text

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 17: Oh Gods, She's Wearing Pants (NSFW)

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

I'm backkkk! Sorry this update took so long, I started a new job a few weeks ago and it has been a hugeee adjustment. But have some smut from this lil shrimp 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123 @i-like-reading @hopelessly-sapphic @alder-saan @im-a-carnivorous-plant @weemssapphic @barbarasstar

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 16

Cross Posted on AO3 Here

HWTAHP Masterlist

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

Life was actually looking up. You had been seeing Dr. Kinbott every other week to help work through the plethora of issues you had. On top of that Vlad was still getting you moving every day (you low-key hated him for it). He had also taken it upon himself to teach you everything he knew of vampire history. Sometimes you weren’t sure whether he was embellishing some of the stories or if vampire history was that insane.

Sometimes Yoko would tag along, more often than not to help him teach you how to use some of your vampire powers. You snorted the first time Vlad referred to them as that and then nearly died when he moved from one end of the room to right in front of you in the blink of an eye to glare down at you.

The one ‘vampire power’ you had the most control over was your sudden acquisition of fuckin epic strength. And by most control you mean you had to learn super quickly how not to rip every door you opened off its hinges.

Your other abilities weren’t anywhere near refined. Yoko had been trying to teach you how to use your enhanced speed which you had managed once before ending up smashing into a wall. You were fine, the wall however did suffer. (yet another wall that is a victim of your new powers. Rip.)

Since you didn’t know who your family was or where you came from both Vlad and Yoko had explained that you may have other abilities if you came from what they called a Legacy family. Apparently, they can have some super sick extra powers like hypnosis or transformation and the like. You were sure you were just a regular vampire, the odds of you having any extra powers were so slim you didn’t need to worry.

On top of that things between you and Larissa were better than ever. You spent every evening together, often ending with you staying the night in her quarters. And fucking hell was waking up to her almost every morning a gift from the gods.

On the nights when you’d stay with her, you’d help her with her evening routine, always ecstatic she let you help her. You’d help remove the pins from her hair, brushing it out for her as she removes her makeup. You always press kisses into her hair afterwards, your heart skipping a beat and the small soft smile on her face at your actions.

You’d both then change into pyjamas, hers always sinfully attractive on her. Then you spend the evening having dinner and cuddling on her couch. Sometimes she’d tell your stories of her day or about her past. you loved listening to her speak, you could quite literally do it for hours.

This morning you were lucky enough to wake up in her arms once again. You took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of her and feeling a smile creep across your face. You bury your head into her neck, sighing happily. You feel her stir a few moments later, her arm tightening around your waist. She lets out her own content sigh before pressing a kiss to your head.

“Mmm…good morning my darling,” she hums, her voice still raspy from sleep.

“Good morning pretty lady,” you hum back, leaning up to kiss her chastely.

The two of you stay like that for a little while, Larissa laying on her back with her eyes closed, one arm wrapped around your waist. You grinning up at her, bringing your hand up to trace the lines of her face. These moments with her, where the two of you are simply existing together, are your favourite moments in the world.

Eventually, though Larissa has to get up and get dressed, she does have a school to run after all. You love watching her get ready for the day. She always wears such gorgeous outfits, always looks so elegant and-

Oh, holy fuck she’s wearing pants today.

She so rarely wears pants, usually opting for skirts or dresses. So when she slips on a pair of form-hugging pants with a chunky belt and white sweater you almost choke on air and feel your face heat up. She bends over to pick up a pair of heels and you absolutely stare shamelessly at her ass.

You must have let out some noise, probably a rather gay sound with the way Larissa turns and looks at you. She grins smugly as she toes on her heels. She pulls on a blazer to complete the look before leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I’ll see you later darling,” she all but purrs and you have to resist every urge to pull her into the bed and ravish her right then and there.

“I-you- have a good day m’love,” you manage, ogling her as she all but saunters away.

———

You spend the rest of the day catching glimpses of the white-haired beauty every hour or so. She seems to be moving around campus far more than usual. Not that you’re complaining. When she does come around, nine times out of ten you get so distracted you walk into or drop something.

On top of that, sometimes when she appeared she would shoot you these looks. You couldn’t explain it but you swear the woman was trying to kill you. Gods, you wanted to climb her like a tree.

So after a lunch filled with you all but drooling over her and a couple of hours afterwards daydreaming about her and her stupid sexy legs and hands and face…where were you again? You finally decided to say fuck it and made your way to her office in record time. Vlad and his lessons could wait, you had a far more important task to do.

You entered her office quietly, not wanting to disturb her if she was in a meeting. The sight that greeted you made you actually choke on air. There she was sitting at her desk as usual. But she had discarded her blazer on the back of her chair and rolled up the sleeves of her sweater. She was typing furiously on her laptop, as usual, frowning at the screen from behind her glasses.

You locked the door behind you before striding purposefully over to her desk. By the time she glanced up at you, you were already rounding her desk to get to her.

“Darling? Is everything alri-oh!” She yelps as you pull her up from her chair into your arms.

You press a kiss to her very gorgeous lips and reach around her to shut her laptop and move it aside. You lift her up onto her desk, not once removing your mouth from hers. She lets out the cutest noise at that, hands moving to clutch your shoulders before she tangles them in your hair, tugging on it slightly. You groan into her mouth, teeth scraping against her lip. The room feels impossibly hot and she is wearing far too many clothes. As much as you like her pants they need to come off. Now.

Your hands make their way down her body, slipping under her sweater to caress the skin of her stomach. You preen at the hum she lets out, your hands becoming more daring. Your fingers slip under her bra, trailing gently over the underside of her breasts. She gasps, her mouth disconnecting from yours when your thumbs brush over her nipples.

You press kisses to her neck as you do your best to unclasp her bra. It does take a fair bit of fumbling and a few curses muttered to get there. Larissa lets out a breathy chuckle as she scratches the back of your neck. When you finally manage to get rid of the offending item you make quick work of removing it along with her sweater.

You press your lips to her collarbone, nipping at the soft skin just above her breasts. Her grip on your hair tightens, her hands attempting to move your attention where she wants it. Instead of giving her what she wants you graze your teeth along to underside of her breast, grinning at the way her breath stutters.

You decide your desire to tease her is not as strong as your need to please her and take one of her nipples into your mouth, lathing your tongue over it. The strangled moan she lets out makes your heart skip a beat. You nip at the pert bud, your other hand groping at her free breast. She lets out the most sinful sounds, your whole body heating more and more with each one.

Your hands travel down to the waistband of her pants, fingers quickly undoing the button and unzipping the zipper. You pull them and her panties down her legs after she lifts herself off the desk for a moment. She starts tugging on the hem of your shirt, trying to get you to take it off. You pull back from kissing her chest and take her hands in yours, moving them back to sit on the desk.

“Nu-uh honey, tonight I’m in charge,” you hum, delighting in the way her whole face turns red.

“So you just keep those lovely hands of yours right here. Can you do that for me, my love?”

“I- yes. Yes,” She breathes.

“Good girl,” you purr.

You get down on your knees, looping your arms under her thighs. You pepper kisses from her knee to the top of her thigh, stopping just before her soaking cunt. You repeat the action on the other side before gently pulling her thighs apart. You take in the sight of her glistening folds, feeling your mouth water at the sight.

“Is this all for me Rissa?”

“Mmm, only for you baby…” she moans.

You press one final kiss to the inside of her thigh before licking at her cunt. You lap at her slit, moaning at the taste of her. You’re certain this is what heaven is like, the way she tastes like the sweetest ambrosia.

You eat her out as though you were starved. You alternate between flicking your tongue over her clit and lapping at her entrance. Her moans and whimpers are like music to your ears, the sexiest symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Oh fuck, darling. Please-I’m-I’m so close-“ she pants.

You feel her thighs begin to tremble on either side of your head. She lets out a string of curses interspersed with cries of your name. You double your efforts, hands pinning her to her desk as she bucks and writhes.

“Fuck!” She cries.

Her back arches as she throws her head back, letting out a choked moan. Her whole body stiffens, thighs clamping shut around your head. You keep licking and sucking at her clit, only stopping when she gently pushes you away. You press one last kiss to her inner thigh before standing and wrapping your arms around her waist.

She truly looks ethereal in this moment. She’s leaning back on her hands, chest heaving and flushed. Her eyes are closed, breath coming out of her lips in pants. She’s glowing in the low light of her office. Her hair is slightly mussed, falling out of her elegant hairstyle in places.

You cup her cheek, heart-melting when she nuzzles into your hand and presses a kiss to your palm. You almost want to cry, luckily you don’t. You lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead, hearing her hum happily in response. You bury your face in her neck, enjoying having her in your arms.

“Darling,” she sighs happily, “not to sound ungrateful because that was truly wonderful, but what on earth brought this on?”

“Pants.” You mumble into her neck.

“Pardon?”

You lean back, idly tracing shapes into her collarbone. “You were uhm, you wore pants today. You don’t often you know wear ‘em. And you just. I mean you have such gorgeous legs and the most earth-shatteringly sexy ass I’ve ever seen-“

She bursts into laughter at your admission, cheeks flushing.

“It’s true!! You have no idea how hot you are Rissa. Like…I don’t know how I get anything done when you’re here looking like you stepped out of heaven every single day.”

“But the pants do something for you hm?” She chuckles.

“Mmm, they just tipped the scales of my already incredibly inappropriate thoughts about you,” you grin.

“Well, darling,” she purrs, slipping off her desk and sauntering in the direction of her bedroom while pulling you along, “I hope you had no intentions of returning to your rooms tonight.”

You stare far too shamelessly at her ass as she drags you into her room. You were so focused on watching her that when she spins you around and all but pushes you onto the bed, you can only stare up at her, eyes wide and incredibly turned on.

She straddles your waist, smirking down at you in a way that makes heat pool between your thighs. She slips her hands beneath your shirt, leaning down to hover close enough to your face that you can feel her breath on your lips.

“Now then,” she hums, “let’s get you out of these clothes hm? The evenings only just started, and I’m nowhere near done with you.”

#htwahp #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday

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pastadoughie · 8 months

Text

im making a bunch of super complicated sweets themed ocs but they all take so long to make, because theyre all,,, incredibly complicated

real ones rember kcs ref? that i posted? yeah im still working on it, mspaint is starting to lag so hard on the file its suffering

shes a kitty cat and i love her deeply and i have mutliple other sweets girlies in my brain but ive only really started sketching one

and also THE FRUIT GIRLIES, tHYERS 2 NOW CHERRY HAS A SISTER NAMED GRAPE i need to make refs for them but OSyusgsHSHsUsgsosOuSsHg

i havent posted my real art in so long becayse ive been so focused on making beasts. you dont see it but ive made almost 100 (like 95 or smmtn) beasts this week and i havent really been getting commisions so i have like. nothing to show

butr yeah i am doing serious art i just wanmned to show :3

#art #mspaint #my art #the beast speaks #rowens serious art

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beary-rambles · 1 year

Note

Hi can you do a Chad request? You can pick the plot!

Summary | You suffer from terrible nightmares and there's only one guy who can make you feel better.

Warnings | ex’s to lovers, fluff, comfort, short fic, not proofread

You had been suffering from terrible nightmares for a long time. Whenever you had one chad would stay up with you and hold you whispering comforting words until you fell asleep. Eventually whenever you would sleep next to Chad the nightmares had stopped completely, you finding complete comfort in him.

You and Chad had broken up about two weeks ago due to your own insecurity, he deserved somebody better, somebody that wasn't you. When you broke it off over text he spammed you and called you begging to talk to you but you never answered, opting to block him.

The nightmares had returned since you hadn't been sleeping with Chad and it sucked so bad but you couldn't admit that to him.

You avoided him in the halls when he looked at you and you cut contact from mindy, his sister, who was more than eager to question you in his stead. You had told anika to ignore him when he would come knocking on the door only for her to give you a sad look and shoo him away.

Its now the middle of the night, you're currently having a nightmare. It's awful the worst one you've had since before chad. You rush awake out of breath and screaming, seeing a figure sitting on the bed only makes it worse as you try to rush away hands grab your arms. You try to shake away before you hear his voice, “It's me, its chad its me baby its me.”

Your body unconsciously settles at the sound of his voice but you still cant seem to calm down, thrashing about and trying to shake him away.

“its me look at me baby its me.” he grabs your face and looks you dead in the eyes. Your face softens seeing him. You feel a rush of emotions as you stare into his kind eyes ones you havent seen in awhile.

He’s basically straddling you, attempting to bring you back down the way he always did, looking you dead in the eyes and placing one of your hands on his heart so you could feel it beat.

“its me.”

You finally settle down after a couple moments, “thank you…..” Your voice is hoarse and you look down awkwardly. A voice in your head reminds you that you two arent together anymore and you lean back away from him, well you cant really since he is basically sitting on you.

he frowns, “are you alright?”

You nod and dont look up at him.

“what are you doing here?”

He shifts slightly almost awkwardly, “anika called. She told me that you were having a really bad nightmare. She actually mentioned you had been having nightmares for awhile….” that traitor. “why didn't you mention it to me?”

“why wouldnt i? we arent together……”

You trail off not wanting to say it. he sighs, you can almost feel him frown.

“i know…. but i care about you. i- i dont want you to suffer alone. i told you i would always help you with these things.”

His comforting words lead your eyes to fill with tears. This was the guy you fell in love with and still loved.

you sob and he immediately wraps his arms around you bringing your head into his neck, “its okay, im here.” he rubs you back and you move closer to him. “ive missed you.”

He wrpas his arms tighter, you can feel his breath on your ear, “so have i. so much.”

he holds you for a couple more moments before he speaks again.

“can i ask you something? you never told me why we broke up, not that i need an explanation but did i do something wrong? if i did let me apologize i wanted, no i want us to work.”

“you deserve someone better than me-” too quickly he pulls back and looks you in the eyes. you suddenly feel embarrassed and attempt to hide your face but he doesn't let you, “what?”

“chad-” “you cant be serious right now.” you groan, “chad look i-” “nope im not accepting this, do you still love me?” “chad-” “do. you. still. love. me.”

you dont answer him and he sighs, “baby, you are the most beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, smart, funny and amazing person in the world. Theres no one better than you for me and ill spent forever proving it to you.”

He wipes the tears falling from your eyes and you nod, “i do im sorry im sorry i love you.”

he shushes you as he kisses your tears away, “its okay baby i love you more.”

he leans you down and gets you comfortable on the bed and cuddles you, “we’ll talk about it more in the morning, right now you need to sleep.”

as you drift off you fear you'll have a nightmare but with chad by your side you fall asleep soundly for the first time in weeks.

#chad meeks martin #chad meeks x reader #scream vi #scream six #scream #chad meeks #chad meeks martin x reader #chad meeks martin x you

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roadkillremi · 1 year

Text

SEQUEL to - Please, Don't kill me, Mr.Ghostface

Randy Meeks x Fem!Reader

Masterlist Part 2 on Masterlist

Warnings : mentions Sex, language, mentions dying, mentions Killing, Reader has hallucinations (If I miss anything let me know)

I do NOT support killing

Summary : After the 1996 Woods borrow murders, will you move on? Attending college with some old friends and making new ones. Your past stalking you at times making everything difficult.

"Can you tell me what you were thinking when he was going to kill your friends?"

The clocked ticked loudly on the wall, you fidgeted picking your nails.

"Disgusted, trapped, with myself to be exact. If I didn't say anything I'd get hurt. If I did if get hurt. There's nothing I could do about it."

She nodded scrabbling on the notebook paper.

"And it's said you stabbed Billy Loomis 17 times. Is that correct?"

"I didn't count. I just... Did it. It was either that or die."

"I know."

"I don't wanna talk about Billy." You looked out the window not being able to face her.

"Let's talk about your visions then.".

You nodded still looking out the window with a soft gaze.

"I got a call from your Aunt. She said according to the teacher you started yelling in class. Cause you saw... Them.".

You nodded, "Yes."

"They're dead they can't hurt you."

"I know. But nightmares can't die."

She sighed, "You're suffering from PTSD, it's not strange to suffer after a traumatic event. Sydney, Randy, and Gale are doing fine. Sydneys getting through it maybe you can talk to her-"

"Sydney's rich and popular. She has the ability... To be loved easily."

"You don't know Sydney's life-"

"But I know mine!" You turned to her.

"Tell me about school."

"People look at me like I'm a zombie or something. I mean since someone died the exams aren't a big deal... People think I'm a killer... Ever since Gale... Did a short read of her upcoming book..."

"Self defense is not murder."

"Yes, I know! Still hurts. The only reason I got into college is because of being a victim. I don't even know what to major in."

"Don't you like movies? Major in directing."

"that's Randy's thing. I love movies, but I don't wanna make them."

"just come up with a list and think it through. How's your sleeping been?"

You looked down at your lap, "It's hard to sleep. I have bad dreams and wake up.".

"have you tried a-"

"Routine. Yes. Sometimes Randy spends the night."

She raised her eyebrow, "Not like that!".

"Mhm." She wrote something down.

"Do you think im a killer?" You looked at her deeply. She looked up at you and didn't speak for a moment.

"I think you're an angry child with a rough past seeking the love you didn't have."

"That wasn't my question."

"No, you're not a killer."

"You hesitated."

"This isn't about me. Its about you."

Silence filled the room back up again.

"I'm scared I'll kill again."

You folded your graphic tees into a box. Music played in the background as you packed up. The last week you've been packing for college. Surprisingly Sydney asked to be roommates, you said yes.

Your room was almost empty now, you sat on your bed.

"Finally running away from here?"

Billy appeared next to you, he leaned down to see your face.

"You're not real."

"I'm real to you."

You didn't look towards him, you closed your eyes trying to focus on breathing.

"You can't shut me out!" He yelled.

"Go away, Billy!" You yelled back. Your Aunt rushed in at the sound of you yelling.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just a nightmare." You stood up.

"Okay. Well Randy called, he's on his way. So get ready to pack up his car." She gave a pathetic smile and walked away. You sighed putting shoes on before taking boxes near the front door. Randy pulled up walking in the house, ever since the killing he seemed to peak. He had more muscle and wore shirts that showed it, he even grew out a small beard. He wasn't the only thing that change in the summer though.

People around you took note about how you seemed more free than usual. You got to dress in clothes without Billy saying you looked whorish. Not only that but you randy had sex, a lot. In his car, in your room, even at his work. There was of course close calls but nothing to serious. He got better at sex the more you two did it. Sometimes it was passionate and loving, others were more rough and animalistic.

"God, I'm not gonna have room for all this!" Randy exclaimed mentioning the boxes. You rolled your eyes, "It's everything, clothes, bedding, school supplies, all of it.".

Randy grabbed a box letting out a small huff. You patted his back, "you got this.".

"You better help that boy!" Your Aunt yelled out.

"Yeah!" Randy mocked smiling. You grabbed a box following him to the car. The trunk had all of Randy's bags stuffed into there. He placed the boxes in the back seat. You huffed back and forth between the car and the house.

"That's all of them!" You yelled out to Randy. He slammed the car door shut, "Thank God!" He cried over dramatically.

Your Aunt hugged you tightly sniffling, "Call when you can. Stay safe.".

"I will, I love you." You hugged her back tightly.

Months later

You banged on Randy's door, "Randy Meeks! Get your ass up!". He got drunk with his roommate, Paul last night. He called you slurring his words telling you how much he loves you. He opened the door, "Sorry, I was getting dress!".

"You look like shit." You laughed. His hair a bit messy and bags under his eyes.

"You look amazing too, darling" he said in a British accent.

You walked to class with him holding his hand. Some girls snickered at you as you passed them. Randy glanced at them, "What's their problem?".

"Don't worry about it. You know how some women are, don't grow out of the popularity in high school." You sighed.

"Pfft, yeah tell me about it." He said leaning close to your ear. His hot breath tickling the side of your face.

A frisbee passed by in front of you two, "Couldn't have caught it?! Dick.." some guy said running after it.

"See?" Randy gestured. You rolled your eyes, "Come on Mr.Meeks we have a film class to get to!".

"You know how I get when you call me that." He joked. You jokingly gave him a look, "You'll just have to rub it out in the bathroom.". He smiled hugging you from behind picking you up a bit.

"Or I could fuck you when Paul's gone"

You laughed tapping his arm to let you go. "Poor Paul needs a break from us pounding like dogs in there." You said walking into the building. Randy caught up with you, "Well this dogs ready to pounce.". He sprayed mouth spray in his mouth winking at you.

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giyuji · 2 years

Text

FROSTBITE — 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐦𝐚

pairings. yandere!douma x human!reader.

synopsis. you've gotten sick, and are in desperate search for some relief against your unrelenting fever. luckily, douma and his ice-resembling body temperature are very happy to help you.

cw. dub-con, stockholm syndrome, manipulation bc well it's douma, mentions of eating people bc well it's douma, unhealthy relationship dynamics, suggestive near the end but nothing descriptive.

author's note. im a fucking furnace all day everday, bet laying next to a literal popsicle would be such a damn relief shii 😮‍💨

wc. 2.7k.

On any other night, this would be the absolute last position you’d ever envision yourself being in. Within his arms, perched on his lap side-ways, cheek pressed against his cold, chiselled chest—all while bearing the thought that the close proximity of the man-eating demon was surprisingly. . .comfortable.

Normally (if you hadn’t been struck by sickness) the way he’d lifted you onto his lap by the waist, big arms shielding your frame from any possible onlookers, forcing you to inch closer and closer to his bare chest for even a hint of relief, would’ve been enough fuel for you to chuck one of his ridiculously expensive vases at his head.

But, as it was, you were struck by sickness. The previous muscle memory of flinching away from his touch as if it’d give you acute frostbite quickly made way for a longing to have it come closer, and closer, and closer. You’d engulf him whole if you could; only so the boiling temperature of your skin would finally take its leave.

“You didn’t have to put me on your lap,” you grumbled still. The usual bite to your words seemed to have been diminished, harsh words now making way for slurred ones. “Could’ve just sat between your legs.”

Never before had a common cold struck you so hard. Apparently, that’s what you get when you venture outside during one of the harshest winters in years. You were fully convinced you’d wrapped yourself in enough layers to avoid your current situation, it seemed like you were mistaken.

Douma let out a soft hum. Your soft-spoken words pulled him out of the daze he found himself in, as he blinked for the very first time since he started looking at you. You truly wished he did that more. Blinking, that is. Not looking at you. Even if he did so—the least he could do was blink while at it.

“Of course I had to, darling,” he cooed. One of his fingers neared your face, carefully tapping you on the nose. The touch had you scrunch up, and sneeze shortly after. He chuckled at that, the corners of his eye crinkling upwards. “You were burning up just now!” He frowned in concern, the back of his hand finding your forehead. “What kind of partner would I be if I did nothing to soothe your aches?”

The sigh of relief his hand brought you left your lips without your consent. “‘M not your partner,” you mumbled under your breath; words directly contradicting your actions as you leaned into the touch. “And I—I would’ve been fine.”

Douma smiled at the lie. His smile used to unnerve you; it still does—to an extent. Most of them were empty, lifeless, so void of any emotion it almost caused chills to appear up and down your spine. Some of them weren’t however, and even if they were, you’d now long gotten used to it. How long had you been here? Weeks? Months? A year? It all seemed to blur together.

“Maybe,” he decided to humour you. Both of you knew you’d be in complete agony if he weren’t there; he was just less obstinate about it. “But I’m very kind-hearted, you see. I simply couldn’t stand by and allow you to suffer.”

A soft whimper left you when he pulled his hand away, the sound immediately stifled again as it came to rest on your cheek instead. His grin widened at that. If your mind hadn’t been so delirious, you would’ve tried to kick him in the throat for carrying such a gleeful expression.

“How—How kind of you,” you pushed out. The usual snark was still there, but it was fading by the second. So very docile of you. Douma truly wouldn’t mind seeing you like that more often.

A glint of adoration appeared in his eyes. “Of course, only the best for you,” he said, voice as smooth as silk. Still—he wasn’t blinking while he relished in your current state.

Shakily, one of your hands reached upwards. It appeared from its resting place, now abandoning the side of his ribcage. The disappearance of your touch took its warmth with it, and Douma’s regular cold temperature returned to the spot. Ever so carefully, your fingers went over his eyelids.

Confused, excited, and curious all at once—Douma fluttered his eyes shut upon your touch. A small frown etched itself into his forehead, and he cocked his head to the side and opened his eyes again once you took your hand back.

“What did you do that for, dear?” He asked.

“‘S creepy,” you mumbled. “Blink when looking at me, please.”

If you were any closer to having a clear conscience, you would have hated the way his entire face filled with utmost delight. A smile broke out on his lips, one so wide, and dare you say, genuine, that it rattled you the slightest bit.

The hands he’d wrapped around you, one underneath your legs and one underneath your neck, tightened as he pushed you forward and squeezed you against his chest.

“How could I ever refuse when you ask me so sweetly,” he said, voice excited at the beginning and gaining a certain edge near the end. His smile never disappeared, unwavering as he looked down at you. Though, he did continue blinking, adhering by your request. “Is there any more you wish for, darling?”

Douma’s sudden movement startled you, and in the previous rush your hands found his abdomen in their search for balance—the upper part of your thigh brushed against his pelvis, and your cheek got squished against his pec.

It felt absolutely euphoric.

A thought appeared in your head. Should you—no, you shouldn’t. He was a demon. He ate people. Yes, he had been kind to you up to this point. Yes, he treated you like the most precious, fragile thing on earth. Yes, he gave you everything you wished for and more. That didn’t change the fact that he was a demon.

“Oh, but, dear, I’d never eat you! I’d never dare to lay a finger on that pretty face,” he’d cooed when you shouted your worries at him; you’d done so multiple times, and his answer always stayed the same.

And when even his actions lined up with them…perhaps you’d simply overestimated the danger of him. Surely if he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done so by now. Right?

Maybe you should just…no—no, no, no. But he was so cold, and he smelled so nice, and he was so cold, and his chest looked so inviting, and he was so cold.

Your rational thoughts had little to no chance against your never-ending fever. And so, without listening too much to them, you reached for his neck. Both arms firmly wrapped around the spot his enemies usually aimed for, and with a slight huff you pulled yourself upwards. You shifted, and moved, and shifted again, until you found yourself a comfortable spot on his lap; with both your legs on either side of him, so every part of you could feel the chill he gave off.

“Oh?” Douma hummed. You couldn’t see the look on his face, now hidden in the crook of his neck, but you imagined it to be one of surprise. “Is this what you wanted, dear? To be closer to me?”

“I—I’d prefer not being sick,” you mumbled against his neck. Your cheeks felt even warmer than before, startled at the sudden recklessness of your own actions. However, the cold of his body hit you in so many more spots than they did previously, and so you didn’t regret the move one bit. “Though, I suppose there isn’t much you’re able to do about that.”

Not once did you bother confirming or denying his previous statement. Yes, you wanted to be closer to him. No, it wasn’t for the reason he thought. Right? Right. The only reason you were in his lap at the moment was because you were sick. Not because his large, towering figure made you feel safe, and not because he was so pretty that you wanted to take a closer look.

Douma was simply a means to an end. That was all there was to it.

It appeared he genuinely considered finding a solution to your current problem, as he was silent for a few seconds. A rare sight, as he almost never kept his mouth shut. As unnerving as he was, the demon also was obnoxiously talkative. You felt him move underneath you, his line of sight now pinned towards the ceiling as he descended into thought.

“Hm,” he hummed, scratching along his cheekbone with his finger, briefly lifting one of his hands off your back. The one underneath your thigh stayed put. You refrained from whining at the loss of contact, holding onto the few remaining shards of dignity you had left “No, no, not much I can do about that.”

“Yeah, I figure—”

“Unless, of course!” He chirped excitedly. The elation in his voice unnerved you, though your mind was too tired to register it properly. “You want me to turn you? No fever will ever get you down again!”

Immediately, you started shaking your head no. The tip of your nose nudged against the base of his throat, fingers carding through his hair as you found something to hold onto in your protest. Had it always been this soft? Whatever. Your current state of panic didn’t allow you to think about the ridiculous silkiness of his hair. Becoming a demon was something you would try to avoid at all costs.

Douma laughed; airy, and light, as if he just made the most ordinary offer in the world. “Yes, I suspected that wouldn’t be an option for you, yet,” he commented, hand sliding upwards to caress the back of your head; eventually settled on your hair. One lock fell victim to him, and he twirled it around his finger.

“What—What do you mean yet?”

“Besides!” He exclaimed cheerfully, dismissing your quietly-voiced concerns. Douma nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, lock of hair long forgotten, and wrapped both arms tightly around your frame. You bit back a surprised squeak when you felt his nose bump against the column of your throat. “I like you much better this way.”

He didn’t talk after that. Almost as if he was enjoying the moment. Instead, he kept his face hidden, now and then you could hear him sniff—as if he was taking in the scent of your shampoo, body wash and perfume. Not that he needed to. With him being the one that picked them out for you, you were sure that he knew the smell well enough.

Little by little, you slowly started dozing off. His chilled body was so close, and his touches so delicate and soothing, there were very few things you could do to stop it. At this point, you weren’t even sure if you wanted to. Each second that passed got you closer to sleep, and each minute that passed had your limbs lose their strength more and more in his arms.

It started with your hand falling from his hair, and continued with your other arm slowly descending down his back. Your movement tickled him slightly on its way down, and the delightful shiver it brought to his spine had him raise an eyebrow.

“Well,” Douma said; cold breath hitting your skin, that and the slight scrape of his fangs against your throat caused for goosebumps to appear all over your body. “We best put you back to bed. Sleeping does do wonders for sickness, or so I heard.”

“Wait,” you said, voice jumping an octave at his sudden attempt at removing you from his lap. Your arms wrapped tighter around him, one hand behind each shoulder blade as you pushed him back against you. An irrational fear settled in your stomach, a fear of him letting you go. “I—I mean, just…a bit longer? Please? It’s—you’re very cold. It helps a lot.”

Douma pretended to think about it. Though, you’d hidden your face from his sight again, and you wouldn’t be able to see the jubilant grin forming on his lips. Just how far would you go to keep yourself in his lap? You truly looked at place there, curled up and cuddled against him.

And it wasn’t that he possessed any type of intention to remove you, he was merely curious if he’d get you to beg him for it. Even if it was only for a second.

“I’m sure sleeping will do you much better, love,” he said, his hand finding the back of your head again. Softly, carefully, and delicately, he carded his fingers through your hair; when encountering a tangle, he’d gently comb through them. The murmur of protest at his words had him smirk. “Wasn’t that what you wished for in the first place?”

“I know I did,” you mumbled into his neck. Your lips grazed the column of his throat as you spoke; a form of affection that went entirely unnoticed by you, though, definitely not by him. You sniffed, feeling your eyes get watery again because of the sickness you’d caught. “But, can we just….sit here a little while longer?”

By this point, you’d fully succeeded in making him the happiest demon on earth. Douma relished in your unusual proximity, adored the way you clung to him like he was your only salvation.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. Most of all, he revelled in the way you pleaded for him to hold you just a tad longer. “You seem quite tired.”

“I—I am,” you admitted with a sigh. It was one of his conditions; never lie to him, and he’d never hurt you. You’d kept your part, and he had kept his. “But…please, Douma, a few more minutes?” You pulled back to look at him, and the sight of you might just be enough to thaw his frozen heart. “I promise you can put me back after.”

And with your tired, glossy eyes, cute little pout, and sweetly spoken words—how could he ever tell you no? He smiled. Gently, and kindly, emotions that were surely faked, and reached up a hand to rest it against your cheek. His thumb trailed along your cheekbone, caressing the skin underneath. The way you spoke to him brought joy to his eyes, or at least something resembling it.

“Very well, then,” Douma said. He was careful not to push you too far, lest his teasing be the thing that broke you out of the spell you were in. He’d start slowly, slowly, and going further each time until you were fully ready to be his. “A few more minutes, darling. Make sure you enjoy them.”

With the way you smiled at him, one could argue you were the one that proposed the idea all along. Adjusting yourself on his lap, you moved, and wriggled, and shifted until you found the most comfortable spot imaginable. When you were finally content with the way you were seated, you wrapped your arms back around his neck—tighter this time around, as a way to show him you hadn’t fallen asleep, yet, and he needn’t untangle you from him.

His mind was at a crossroads as he looked at you; gushing over your adorable near-sleeping form on one hand, and torturing himself with rather impure thoughts on the other. Douma had to remind himself to keep his thoughts under control and firmly reigned in, to not let them stray too far—no matter how much you squirmed in his lap.

Not tonight, not while you were sick. No, he’d have you in that way while your thoughts were coherent. He wanted your full presence there, looking up at him so prettily. Surely, you’d want to. He helped you while you needed him.

He smiled as he watched you slowly doze off in his arms again. No, not tonight—but soon.

After a long while, your fever finally broke.

Douma could feel your body returning to its regular temperature, though he was in no way going to wake you up to break the news to you. Rather, he chose to relish in your close proximity for a bit longer. Who knew when he’d have you falling asleep in his lap again?

Douma gazed down at you. If this was to be the outcome, he was sure to continue opening your bedroom window once you’d dozed off.

Never before was he so thankful for the absolutely freezing nights of winter.

#douma x reader #doma x reader #douma x y/n #douma #doma #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #douma one shot #doma one shot #douma imagine #doma imagine #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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werebutch · 4 months

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I cant wait to move out im going to suffer so much but ill also have so much that i dont right now. Im so glad i found my love of cooking recently its so so fulfilling. I’m so excited for school and im so nervous. I’m so excited to make friends again and have a schedule. Live in my own little world. It’s like so cheesy but im kind of finally starting to get over my thing about dying young. Like since i was 12 i planned to die before i graduated high school (and at 12, i hoped before i completed 8th grade) but its been almost 2 years since i got my diploma. Now i have my little bunnies and a lot of passion for new and old hobbies etc. like up until a little while ago i could not envision a future for myself at all, its like i was genuinely incapable. And i still kinda am, but its slowly getting better at least for now. And idk im a major loser im pretty much freeloading right now i dont really have friends and I haven’t dated in like.. 4 years? Which is insane. But also like a lot of other people are major losers. I’d go as far as to say most people are losers. and ive told myself this so much im starting to believe it so thats good i guess. The suicidal ideation hasn’t gone away but i can deal with it better. Or at least distract myself better. Anyways ive also experimented with art so much the last couple years and it only makes me want to try more mediums. Since becoming less depressed my intense love for the earth just keeps inspiring me more and more and i think i finally have a very abstract idea of what i want to do with my career. Maybe. At least for now i do, which is good. It’ll change and thats fine. I’m honestly really worried about this high ive had for the past couple weeks because im really scared it will all go away. I’m not usually this optimistic and its scaring me big time. I still have so much mental trouble with my body and my relationship with my family those are like the major things. And the loneliness of course. I just really hope i dont like ? Crash? And start feeling horrible again. I dont know what im saying anymore LMFAO i should really write in my journal im just lazy. If u read this all youre a real werebutch fan. Make me feel less scared of college please

#i dont knowwwwwww monkey pic

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 6 months

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KINKTOBER - Good Dog - BandaSunatoxReader -

DARK - Extreme pet play (actually this may not even be that) - Name calling - Slut shaming - Kindapping - NON/CON - Breeding - DARK BANDA - MDN - +18 - PLEASE READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISKS - I BELIEVE THIS IS THE STRONGEST THING I HAVE MADE -

Summary: Banda wants a pet to make him feel less lonely. Inspired by the movie "Good Boy".

"I need to take care of something, be a good girl and wait here, ok?" Banda's condescenting tone could be hear as he left you water and some food on the floor.

You did not move for a moment but seeing him waiting by the door you knew you had to.

"Woof"

"Thats my girl" and with that he was gone. Screams and pleads could be hear from afar.

Where were you? You did not know. You had met Banda by chance in a date app. And that was a big mistake. His red flags showed at the end of the night, when he pushed you against him and told you how he needed a pet to keep him company and that you would be perfect.

You never tought it would come to this.

The dog suit was uncomfortable the first days, not being allowed to go on two feets was humillating. And no words but woof or any type of sounds.

Banda had made that suit years back, when he was too deep into pet play, leaving your private parts expossed to the cold hair. Your human face was vissible. It was like these big full body pijamas. But more kinky.

You shoved your face into the food. Not taking a risk of using your hands. You had done that the first months and it had ended with you getting beaten up by him.

He would also put you on a cage. And leave you there for days, these were the worst. He left you there one entery week. Because you had talked back to him.

Now you never did that.

You were his pet, his dog. He could trow a ball and you would go after it. He would call you to pet you and you would go. He would made you suck him off (and god help you if you think on biting him) while he stalks his next victim.

Banda would also taunt you. Making dinner for two and waiting for you to make the mistake of getting up and eat with him. He would leave you a dog bed besides his own human bed looking at you while you droff to sleep, thanks to the drugs he adds to your night food.

Something he loves to do-

"Im back, I hope I dont see any food on your hands, dogs cant use them...and dont have them, maybe I should remove them?" He asked. He had blood all over his shirt and face. The woman he had brought with him must have suffered a lot.

You just whined, scared that he would mutilate you.

"Oh, I know you wont do that. You are good" Banda said getting on his knees and petting your hair. "You know...I tried having sex now but....I cant seem to get hard if its not you"

Oh- here it comes, something fucked up he likes. Fucking you in all fours, telling you to still make dog noises (but he does let you moan or scream during this).

Banda does not have to tell you to turn around, to show him your expossed pussy to him. Does not have to order you to get your ass up. You know the consequences.

"Thats it" He murmurs letting his dick out, pushing the head against your lower lips. "You feel me? Of course im not inside yet, I dont want to have to call the vet"

Oh, it almost sounds as if he cares if he hurts you. Its like he never said a thing, when with one single move he shoves his dick inside you making you bite your lips. Tears falls from your eyes as his hips bucks against yours. His dick hitting your insides as he pushes himself on top of you almost making you fall.

"I- have been thinking" he says between deep breaths. "What if I make you have pupps? Do you think I should raise them as humans or dogs?"

The question makes your stomach curl in disgust but Banda seems to like the idea, as he uses one hand to go for your clit making you let out a suprise sound.

"Maybe you alwyas wanted this? Being treated as an animal, just having to eat, sleep and do as I say, no work, no stress"

A slap over your clit made you cry out.

"Yeah...I knew you were just a slut, a slut in heat who needed to be breed"

He continues to pounds into you, your legs tremble feeling your orgams aproacching and he knows that. He makes sure you dont fall against the floor.

"Cmon...give it to me, come all over my dick and show me how much of a slut you are"

You want to fight it. You truly do, but your body responds to the basic stimulation, in seconds you are cumming around his dick.

Banda follows close, he spills his seed inside you, making sure all of it stays inside.

"You are an animal" he ends saying kissing the top of your head "I will clean you later, I still have things to do"

The beep of his phone catches your attention.

"Seems like my next play thing is here, should we get you a friend?"

#alice in borderland #aib imagine #aib imagines #alice in borderland x reader #banda sunato x reader #tw:non/con #non con #kinktober

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