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ahundredtimesover · 4 months

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I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you.

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough.

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse.

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that.

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you.

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him.

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet.

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now.

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now.

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in.

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place.

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast.

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing.

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen.

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues.

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her.

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps.

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around.

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal.

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now.

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye.

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook.

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing.

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy.

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does.

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule.

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it.

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet.

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning.

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond.

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that.

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from.

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time.

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person.

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you.

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance.

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says.

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic.

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues.

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him.

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started.

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now.

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know.

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster.

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed.

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable.

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down.

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar.

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it.

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this.

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little.

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern - should not happen again.

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed.

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you.

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you.

“You may leave,” he instructs.

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask.

You’d never cared before, why the change now?

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you.

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this.

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps.

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask.

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs.

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now.

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything.

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is.

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual.

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in.

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents.

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement.

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do.

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in.

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name.

“Okay,” you say softly.

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while.

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated.

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous.

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little.

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling.

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place.

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too.

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug.

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that.

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be.

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again.

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece.

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are.

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak.

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time.

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips.

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too.

“Uh, yes,” you say.

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down.

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam.

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture.

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle.

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself.

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it.

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off.

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for.

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung.

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says.

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again.

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear.

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke.

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks.

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around.

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days.

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs.

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done.

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly.

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do.

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself.

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment.

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day.

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out.

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night.

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them.

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked.

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can.

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you.

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist.

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle.

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says.

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter.

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good.

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him.

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes.

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he.

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit.

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time.

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…”

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about.

“Like them.”

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair.

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients.

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side.

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now.

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table.

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why.

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin.

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time.

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there.

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal.

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at.

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace.

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after.

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though.

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk.

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way.

“Your girl?” He scoffs.

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you.

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you.

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts.

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top.

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead.

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing.

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes.

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably.

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…”

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins.

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–”

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body.

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs.

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom.

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting.

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be.

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot.

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds.

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters.

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave.

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you.

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you.

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter.

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away.

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him.

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri.

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously.

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience.

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily.

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do.

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you.

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car.

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything.

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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ssahotchnerr · 3 months

Note

hi babe! was wondering if you could write something abt hotch + reader having their daughter’s first birthday and all of the team is there and it’s so cute and we get big brother jack.

maybe it including light bickering between them but it’s so clear they love each other so much still and it really is just pointless bickering. something fluffy for sure.

up to you! i trust your wonderful writing , thank u bunches !

- 🕷️ [is this anon emoji taken yet? oops if it is!]

take the bench

AHH that's so adorable 🥹 cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, domestic banter <3 and aaron being very dad <3

"are you kidding, look how cute!" you exclaimed, holding up the little outfit for all to see. your daughter's tiny hands immediately made a grab at it. "this is perfect for spring."

"after two boys, i can't express enough how fun it is shopping for a girl." jj gushed, resting her chin comfortably on her hand. "new section of the store unlocked."

all had gathered for baby girl's very first birthday, and it's been quite the eventful afternoon. lively conversations, a plentiful spread of food, cake on the horizon.

currently your daughter was sat comfortably on your lap, while you orchestrated the whole present-opening extravaganza.

at her young age, she could pull the tissue paper out of the gift bags as instructed, you and jack helped with the actual paper ripping as needed. whether it was you tearing off a starter piece, or jack proudly fulfilling his big brother duties - simply unwrapping it entirely himself and excitably showing his sister what she had received.

and meanwhile, aaron had the most dad job: trash bag duty. it was right up his alley naturally, being sure to punctually collect the scraps of paper before they touched the ground; preventing a mess at all costs.

which ultimately, led up to a new game.

"jack," aaron grabbed his son's focus, holding the bag open and jack caught on instantly. he grinned, balling up and throwing the tissue paper in hand in aaron's direction.

it started off gentle; quiet cheers when jack made the shot, not to mention the growing smiles on both ends. but then it soon turned into them firing off at each other, a bit too aggressive in the constraints of the living room. jack's laughter heightened with each throw, and henry even began to join in from time to time.

while still enamored by the gifts, all thanks to her brother and father's volume, baby girl's attention was quickly drawn to them. she let out a high pitched squeal every time wrapping paper flew over her head and through the air, attempting to wiggle her way off your lap.

as much as you loved aaron and jack carelessly enjoying themselves, and the addictive giggles emitting from your daughter, you also didn't want to take the focus away from everyone's generous gifts. they had spent time, and money, and deserved the proper recognition in return.

"aaron." you warned lightly, raising an eyebrow when his gaze shot to yours - a silent, but loving nonetheless, quit it.

"alright bud," aaron caught the last makeshift ball from jack with his hand, shoving it into the trash. "take the bench. the ref is giving me that look."

"but dad-"

"you heard me. and your mother."

jack let out a small whine, but promptly complied. he returned to the stack of his sister's presents, shifting through and looking for the next one to give her.

"for someone on clean up duty, you sure are making quite the mess." you teased once you caught aaron's eyes again, jack placing the next gift in front of you, "a larger one, if i may add."

"mess isn't in my vocabulary." aaron quipped right back, a delightfully smug look on his face. "you shouldn't be the one talking."

you cocked your head to the side, comically, "oh?"

"who's side of the closet is currently exploding?"

"who's sock drawer has seen better days?"

"the parents are fightingggg." derek stretched out his voice, murmuring humorously under his breath and nudging penelope with an elbow. while the soft tone, his statement was for all to hear.

now, it was your turn to (lightly, as to not jostle baby girl) chuck a ball of wrapping paper at him. derek ducked, barely, laughing loudly as he straightened his posture back upright.

"good try, but not good enough mamas. you gotta work on your aim."

"see, i'm not making a mess." aaron teased as he came near to grab it off the carpet, taking a detour as well to give your lips a quick peck. "you have that title perfectly under control, darling."

you playfully rolled your eyes, a smile dancing its way onto your lips. aaron couldn't resist the sight, kissing you once more. "oh bite me, hotchner."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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tomriddleslove · 4 months

Text

Pt 4 - Drunk words are sober thoughts.

✩ Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: The one where Pansy organises a dinner party, you’re on the run from Theo, and bad decisions are made. Alternatively: Uncomfortable awkward tension, then smut.

A/N: We aren’t out of the trenches yet. We’ve only dug ourselves deeper with this one.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN.

Please let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the tag list!

MDNI!

Tags: Smut (duh),Drunk sex, PIV, Hair pulling, praise.

Songs: Love survive - Michael Nau

Star Treatment - Arctic Monkeys

The sun filters through the cracks in the blinds, casting an almost heavenly glow on your bed. The warmth was soothing, and you’d almost call it a very peaceful morning.

That is, of course, if you weren’t woken by Pansy yanking the covers off you, tossing them to the side.

You groan sleepily, rolling over as you try to shield your eyes.

“Oh come on! Merlin, you've been asleep for so long! Everyone else is up! I refuse to let you spend all holiday rotting in bed.” She nags, grabbing your arm as she tries to pull you up. You let your body go limp, the dead weight pulling you back onto the bed as you use your free hand to pull a pillow over your head.

“You know Pansy, have you ever considered my idea of a holiday is sleeping in all day?” You mumble and she tuts, grabbing the pillow from you.

“Nonsense. I’ll kill you if we don't make the most of this.”She admonishes, faffing around you like a mother hen as she walks around your shared room with Theodore (who notably wasn't there, his bed made.) She opens your closet and takes the liberty of choosing you an outfit as she flicks through your clothing, speaking again.

“We're going to celebrate the start of this beautiful Holiday I have so kindly provided us with. We’re making dinner and having a small dinner party. Nice clothes, naturally. Mattheo, Lorenzo and Theodore will be making the starters, and Draco, Blaise and I will be making the main, which means you’re in charge of dessert. Consider it a penalty for waking so late.” Pansy explained as she crouched down to sort through your other clothes.

You grumble, muttering childishly under your breath as you sit up, on the edge of your bed as you come to your senses.

“I'm putting poison in yours.” You half-joke, and she isn't phased as she tosses you a floral white sundress and a handful of jewellery. You dodge the assortment of gold sent towards you and you glare at her.

“There. You’ll have to change for dinner but this is good for now. We’re all downstairs, but I sent some of the boys to fetch the ingredients. Chop chop!” She calls out, as she descends down the stairs.

Pansy. She truly tested your patience.

You manage to drag yourself up from the warm confines of your bed as you head over to the bathroom, going to take a shower. You walk past Theodore's bed as you do so, and you see his copy of Little Women lying on his bedside table. Curiosity tugs at you.

It would be bad to take a peek, right? I mean, he did hand it to you that day in the library. Granted, he took it back right after, but surely that implied you could take a look.

You (rather weakly) justify your decision and pick up the book, thumbing through the pages as your eyes scan over the various annotations and underlined passages Theodore had analysed.

One in certain catches your attention. There, messily underlined, is the quote:

“Watch and pray, dear, never get tired of trying, and never think it is impossible to conquer your fault.”

Followed by “No. 4” scrawled in Theodore's handwriting. You frown, confusion etched on your face as you try to decipher what the four could possibly mean. You flick through the rest of the book, trying to spot any other instances.

“You are the gull, Jo, strong and wild, fond of the storm and the wind, flying far out to sea, and happy all alone.”

No. 7

I've loved you ever since I've known you, Jo, - couldn't help it, you've been so good to me, - I've tried to show it, but you wouldn't let me; now I'm going to make you hear, and give me an answer, for I can't go on so any longer.

No. 5

You couldn't seem to find any rhyme or reason for this labelling. It was simply random parts of the text underlined every now and then with a number next to them, as though some sort of list. Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you're itching to look for more when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs snaps you out of it. You quickly shut the book, placing it back down as you grab your dress and towel, dashing into the bathroom. You just manage to lock the bathroom door when you hear the door to your room click open, and you let out a small breath of relief. Your mind is working tirelessly, trying to decipher the cryptic annotations as you take a shower.

You finish off and get dressed in the bathroom, taking your time to avoid Theodore. By your luck, when you unlock the bathroom door and peer out the small gap, Theodore is not there, and you let out a small sigh as you step out.

You put on the jewellery Pansy set out for you and slip on some socks, combing through your wet hair as you dry it lightly. Satisfied with how you looked (you did feel rather pretty, in all honesty), you make your way downstairs.

The kitchen is empty, save for Blaise putting the groceries away into the fridge. You grin as you walk over to join him, his eyes flickering over to you as you walk in.

“Morning. You got your rest, didn't you?” He teases and you shoot him a mocking smile, rolling your eyes.

“Yeah yeah, make fun of me all you want.” You sigh as you reach for the second bag, helping him put everything away.

“Where is everyone else?” You ask.

“Pansy and Lorenzo went out to get drinks, and I'm pretty sure the rest found some sort of creek or something so I think they went out for a swim,” Blaise says and you hum, nodding.

Come to think of it, you had completely forgotten about the rather surprising development between Blaise and Pansy. You and Lorenzo had bet on it as well. Deciding to pay Pansy back the favour, you begin probing into their little dilemma.

“So Blaise, tell me. What's going on between you and Pansy?” You ask, and he chokes on the coffee he was sipping as he sets the cup down. You open one of the cupboards, storing away a packet of pasta as he looks at you.

“What do you mean?” He responded, and a small grin tugged at your lips.

“Oh come on, don't act all shy now. This whole flirting thing you have going on.” You say, vaguely motioning in his direction as you put some fruits in the fruit bowl resting on the kitchen island.

“There's nothing. Just friend.” He denies, and you turn to him, resting against the island.

“Sure. Just one thing? You're both stubborn fools. Don't let that prevent anything.” You advise, looking at him. You grab an apple, tossing it into the air before catching it as you walk past Blaise, patting him on the back.

“Right now, out. I need to start prepping the dessert.” You say, and for the first time in your life, you see Blaise ever so slightly red.

He playfully grins as he walks out, and you tie your damp hair up as you look through what the boys bought.

You settle on a classic after taking note of the copious amounts of cream cheese the boys had bought (You were reminded to never ever ask them to go shopping, and you'd be sure to remind Pansy the same.)

A salted caramel cheesecake. You decided to make the biscuit base yourself - it would serve as a good way to pass the time seeing as you had the whole day to yourself.

Before you begin cooking, you wander over to the living room. Your eyes settle on a collection of vinyl records in the corner, and you sift through the sleeves, settling on one that doesn't look immediately terrible.

You carefully place the vinyl onto the turntable, the soft crackle of the needle hitting the record filling the room. The sound of a smooth jazz melody starts playing, creating a cosy atmosphere in the kitchen. As the music envelops the space, you begin gathering the ingredients for the biscuit base.

You preheat the oven and begin making the biscuits, sifting flour into the bowl as you work. It's surprisingly relaxing, the villa is empty and you're left to your own devices, humming along to the music as you bake. Sure, you definitely weren't the cleanest baker. A simple biscuit recipe had left you with a white powder coating over the kitchen, stacks of bowls in the sink and somehow, flour on your clothes as well. You huff, dusting down your dress as you place the haphazardly shapen uncooked biscuits into the oven. It didn't matter whether they looked good or not - you'd be crushing them anyway.

It only takes about 15 minutes before the delicious aroma of vanilla fills the kitchen, You're admittedly pleased at just how good they smell, and you can only hope they taste as good as they smell.

Whilst those finish off, you begin making the actual filling of the cake. You reach for one of the bowls when a certain song begins playing, your ears perking up at the sound.

“This is my conquering song

played on a wave so strong

pulled the broke-down ride for far too long”

You lightly sing along to the lyrics, a small smile tugging on your lips as you do so. You had always imagined this song to be blissfully domestic, something you'd willingly play if you were to cook or bake, so the fact you selected it by chance made you oddly happy.

Sometimes it was the little things that count.

With a little pep in your step, you walk around the kitchen as you gather the ingredients. Liberated by the villa having no other occupants, your movements are freer, a small little (unnecessary) spin or a little break to sing along as you cook.

Now, it had been long established that you really did not have the best awareness of your surroundings. This continued to be the case now because you were sure you would have stopped immediately if you had seen Theodore leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, looking over at you.

Unfortunately for you, you did not notice him.

Theodore leans against the doorway, his eyes fixated on you. They always would be, he couldn't not look at you even if he tried to.

A fond smile is tugging at his lips, watching as you lightly sing along to the song. It's offkey, and your impromptu dance moves incorporated with your haphazard baking skills is laughable, but Theodore can only look at you and feel simultaneously so happy yet also so terrified. Terrified because he acknowledges how such a simple sight can't get that smile off his face, and the fact someone has the capability of doing that to him seems daunting. He was scared because, for a brief second, he imagined walking over and helping you. You'd look up at him with that smile of yours.

God, that smile.

You have that little impish look in your eyes, ready to poke fun at him. He does the same with you. The worst thing is if he hadn't fucked up so royally, you could have been doing that.

Instead, he pushes off the doorway to go and help you. The first part goes as expected, you see him and you yelp, spinning around. He knew your ears would turn red, as they usually did when you got embarrassed. Theodore knew you like that.

He knew you'd look at him akin to a deer caught in headlights because your mind would go blank for a second. Theodore knew you like that.

He also knew you well enough to know that, despite his own hopes of your once confused and mortified face breaking into a wide grin, it would instead fall and you would avert your eyes.

Theodore knew you like that.

He hated it.

“Oh. Hey.” You utter, clearing your throat. You berated yourself for always acting so obviously on edge when Theodore was near. He looks down at you with an indescribable look in his eyes before he speaks.

“Hey. Need help?” He asks, and you look around at the messy kitchen, before shaking your head.

You actually did, but you'd be damned if you had to spend more time with Theodore, alone. You'd either end up dead silent or stammering some embarrassing declaration. You couldn't tell which one would be worse.

“Alright.” He mused, looking down at you. He doesn't make any move to leave though, and you're hyper-aware of the fact that he is very close to you.

His hand comes up, cupping the side of your face gently as his thumb brushes against your cheekbone. His hand is there for a second too long, crossing the boundary of what it should have been. Again, it seemed as though everything you and Theodore did crossed that boundary.

“You had flour on your cheek,” he says, and you nod, drawing away your face. You turn around, praying to the gods above that they'd stop torturing you and make Theodore leave. You keep your back to him as you continue cooking, and he seems to finally leave, making you release a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You hasten your cooking after that and you're out of the kitchen in no less than 20 minutes with the cheesecake stored in the fridge as you make your way to Pansy’s room. You absolutely would not go back up to yours, as you were sure Theodore was there.

Exactly how long did you plan on running from him?

Hours have passed lazing away on Pansy’s bed, bored out of your mind when she finally returns.

“Finally.” You sassed, sitting up as she raised a brow at you.

“Why are you waiting here?” She asks, and you shrug.

“Can I not miss my friend?” You quip and she eyes you, knowing there must be another reason. She chooses not to probe further, however, joining you on her bed.

“We ought to get ready. I did tell the boys to dress nicely, we’re dignified people.”She chided as she got up, walking over to her closet.

You giggle at her swift change of actions and lean back on her bed, looking over at Pansy.

Her love for micromanaging you often was a negative, but now it could very much be a huge positive.

“Pans… You always know just how to style me right. Can you run up to my room and choose a look for me? I'm hopeless.” You groan, putting your hand on your chin in an exaggerated display of hopelessness. Her eyes light up, as though she was a little kid playing dress up, and she nods.

“Finally, you've come to your senses! I know exactly what I'm getting, wait here.” She gasps, scampering upstairs. You grin, having successfully avoided Theodore once again.

(The answer to the previous question? You'd run from him for a very long time, seemingly.)

Despite her reassurances, Panys arrives a solid half an hour later, a scarlet lace dress clutched in her hands. An impulse buy, the dress was shorter than what you usually wore. It had a fitted bodice but a flowy skirt, though it only reached your upper thigh. The long sleeves that extended down into flowy bell sleeves had to be your favourite feature of it, alongside the bustier style bodice at the front. She grins as she passes over the dress, alongside a pair of black boots.

“Dressed nicely but not too fancy. Plus I've been dying to see you wear this, so up and change.” She demands, pushing you up. You grin lightly at her antics as you take the dress, disappearing into the bathroom to change. You run your hands down your body as you admire yourself in the mirror. A hell of a good impulse buy, the dress looked incredible. The low cut was far out of your comfort zone but boundaries were meant to be pushed, right?

(No, they were not.)

Pansy gasps as you step out, pulling you over as she admires the dress, words of praise leaving her lips.

“You look so good! Oh my god, wear this everywhere.” She gushes, and you smile shyly.

“Thanks, Pans. Really. And you look incredible too, like positively mouthwatering,” You say and she grins, doing a small twirl in her satin black dress. After styling your hair and doing some light makeup, you make your way over to the dining room, which had already been set up beautifully.

The table, adorned with a crisp white tablecloth, is set meticulously with polished silverware, crystal glasses, and porcelain plates. A centrepiece of fresh flowers in varying shades of red and white adds a touch of elegance, their fragrance mingling with the soft glow of candles placed strategically around the room.

Pansy's attention to detail is evident in every aspect of the setup. Delicate linen napkins, folded artfully, rest atop each plate. You begin to feel excited for the evening, walking over to the kitchen as you look for everyone else. Theodore, Lorenzo and Mattheo are all in the kitchen, sorting panicking over the starters as they rush around like headless chickens. You step in and Lorenzo spots you, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

“Wow wow wow. Look at who we have here.” Lorenzo says admiringly, calling over the attention of the other two boys. You grin, ironically doing a small little pose to shake away the awkwardness of their gazes on you.

“Stunning!” Mattheo announces, slinging an arm over your shoulder as he ruffles your hair. You groan with disdain as you jab him in the side.

“Ow!” Mattheo complains, letting go as he frowns, rubbing his side.

“The bloody devil, you are.” He mumbles, glaring at you, A small laugh escapes your lips.

You affectionately pat him on the cheek, before turning to Lorenzo.

“What do you need help with?” You ask them, and Lorenzo shakes his head.

“Nothing. You go and rest, we’ll come serve them soon.” He says, and you nod.

You've been avoiding Theodore's gaze the whole time you've been in here, but you stupidly can't resist looking up at him and instantly regret it when he staring at you so intently. His eyes meet yours and he seemingly snaps out of it, swallowing harshly.

You quickly walk back to the dining room.

A solid 4 hours or so later, you're all lounging in the living room, stomachs full with what was a surprisingly good meal. Whilst the starters were good, Blaise, Pansy and Draco had really knocked it out of the park with the main, a mouthwateringly good risotto that you helped yourself twice to. The cheesecake seemed to be a crowd-pleaser though, with Draco having three slices.

With a glass of whiskey loosely held in your hand, you take a sip, leaning back into the couch. Whilst you tried to fit the aesthetic and sip some wine, you couldn't bear the taste and (truthfully) wanted to get drunk tonight.

It was a lazy and subdued atmosphere, and you didn't even notice Pansy, Blaise, Draco and Mattheo all retiring back to their rooms. You yawn as you get up, stumbling slightly (you had drunk quite a bit actually). You sleepily bid goodnight to the remaining two ( as vaguely as possible because god forbid you say Theodore's name) and make your way upstairs (in one piece.)

You walk into your room and kick off your boots, wandering over to your bed as you begin taking off your jewellery. You look up a mere few seconds later when Theodore walks in, seemingly equally as drunk as he looks at you. He shuts the door, yawning as he pulls off his knitted jumper, leaving him with his white t-shirt on. He throws his sweater somewhere to the side as he flops down onto his bed with a sigh, rummaging through his pockets as he produces a lighter. You can't help but openly stare at him as he does so, alcohol freeing you of what little inhibitions you had.

Something about the sight of Theodore laying on his bed, lazily smoking a cigarette with his slightly messy hair and those damn eyes….

You could see his muscles shift every time he brought the cigarette up to his lips, and you didn't realise smoking could be so erotic.

For some awfully stupid reason, really I mean, you had to question your own sanity, you get up, walking over to Theodore. You're alarmingly quiet as you approach him, and don't say a word as you stand there. His eyes flicker up to you, and suddenly you realise:

Alcohol + tension + two rash people

Is not a very good mix.

You reach down, plucking the cigarette from his fingers. Theodore observes you with a small smile, those sinful eyes of his boring into you as you take a drag, before passing the cigarette back to him.

“He was right,” Theodore says after a second, looking up at you, You tilt your head. If you were already slow at making these connections, the alcohol only made it worse.

“Hmm?” You hum.

“Mattheo. You did look stunning today.” Theodore says, voice low.

Instead of doing what you usually did (some awful combination of looking away, panicking or just remaining quiet), a lazy smirk tugs at your lips as you look down at Theodore.

“Yeah?” You question, and you're 100% sure you watch his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Theodore's eyes widen slightly, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering across his face as he absorbs your murmured words.

Tentatively, as though testing the waters, he sits up, back propped up against the headboard as he looks up at you. His hand tugs at the sleeve of your dress, pulling you down, His hand rests on the curve of your hip, massaging light circles, and you go dizzy at the feeling.

You make no effort to move.

Rather, in a bold surge of confidence that quite literally materialised from nowhere, you swing your leg over Theodore's lap, straddling him. His hands immediately find their place on your hips, as though they're meant to be there, and he's looking at you through half-lidded eyes.

You knew this was a bad idea, but the alcohol spoke prettier words than your rationale did.

“You certainly know how to make an impression.” He murmurs his fingers trailing lightly along your thigh. You resist the urge to shudder at his touch, goosebumps erupting on your skin as he touches you. You lean closer, admiring the features of his face as you speak, mere inches away from one another.

“Well, I had someone to impress.” You say. He lets out a small, wry laugh, though he's far too consumed with looking at you.

Close the gap. Do it.

You do.

With a surge of hunger, your hands fist his shirt, pulling him in. His hand cups the back of your head as he meets your lips in a passionate kiss, mouths melding together. He holds you tightly, his grip both possessive and comforting at the same time.

The bulge of his clothed cock presses against your wetness, grinding against you with a desperate need. A small meek escapes your lips and it’s as though Theodore immediately swallows the sound, tongue slipping into your mouth as you continue to make out. It’s simultaneously lazy yet desperate - hungry.

"Fuck," Theodore murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with desire. "You're driving me insane." He mutters, trailing open-mouth kisses down your jaw and neck. You moan, arching your back as you tilt your head back, giving him easier access. He wastes no time in sucking and kissing the delicate skin of your neck, tongue soothing the places he nips at you, your skin blossoming red and purple.

His hand trails down your body, his fingertips tracing along the swell of your breasts. A low groan escapes your lips, hands coming up to thread through his hair. You tug lightly and feel him smile against your neck. With deliberate slowness, he undoes the lace on the back of your dress as he continues to press sloppy kisses to your skin, undoing the top as he tugs it down. He pulls back, eyes hungrily taking in the sight.

He flips you over with alarming ease, pinning you down onto the mattress as he hovers above you, holding your hands down by the side of your head as he begins kissing down your neck to your breasts.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs, large hands coming up to cup one of them, the other holding your hands in place. He squeezes one of your nipples, pinching the bud lightly between his fingers as you gasp, arching off the bed. The sound is music to his ears, and he grins, his eyes remaining on you as he leans down and takes the other one into his mouth, tongue running over the sensitive bud as he pulls away, blowing lightly.

The contrast sends you into a haze, and a whimper escapes your lips. Theodore wants to devour the sound, he simply can’t get enough.

“Do you know how fucking long you’ve been on my mind?” He mutters, voice laced with desperation as he leans back down to kiss you, bulge grinding against your clothed cunt in a way that had you desperate for more. You can’t even formulate a response, because you’re all too consumed by Theodore. Everything about him.

He sits up slightly, hands resting on your thigh as he runs his hands up and down, his fingers disappearing under the hem of your dress.

You feel his fingers brush against the damp spot on your panties and swear that Theodore Nott will be the death of you.

Seemingly satisfied, a small smirk tugs at his lips, observing your reactions as he slowly pulls them down. He throws them to the side, and words cannot describe the look on his face as his eyes hungrily rake over you.

You needed him, every bone in your body ached with a visceral need for Theodore. Your hands come down to his belt, tugging at the buckle as you look over at Theodore, eyes glazed over as you were driven mad with your need for him.

He undoes his belt, the sound of the metal buckle clinking as he throws it onto your bed, unzipping his slacks. You can make out the bulge of his erection against his boxers and your heart skips a beat. You’re filled with this primal need to just have Theodore, you need as much of him as physically possible.

You tug his boxers down, freeing his strained erection from its confines. You swallow harshly at the sight of his cock, the tip glistening. You lean up to meet his lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his length as you give him a single jerk. You suddenly realise why Theodore was kissing you the way he was because the low groan that escaped Theodore's lips had you mad for more.

“Look at what you’ve done to me.” He murmurs, pushing you back onto the bed. He hiked the skirt of your dress up over your hips, eyes straying down as he spoke.

“You’ve unravelled every thread of control I have.” He says against your lips, teasingly running the head of his cock between your folds. A low moan escapes you, desperately seeking more friction.

“I’m going fucking crazy for you. I ache for you every second of the fucking day.” He mutters, and you pull back from the kiss, looking up at him.

“You have me now.” You respond.

His lips surge forward and meet yours in a kiss with renewed intensity, slowly thrusting into you.

You both let out a collective low groan as he slowly thrusts into you, and you can feel every inch of Theodore within, stretching you out so good you feel as though the simplest movement would split you open. A plethora of gasped curses escape your lips, but Theodore silences them instantly, coming down to kiss you deeply. He buried himself inside you fully, savouring the way you stretched to accommodate him, clenching tightly. He gives you a second to adjust before slowly pulling out. He rocks back in again, his moments slow and measured, but strained as though it’s taking every inch of self-restraint to not ravage you there and then.

“More. Don’t be nice.” You moan, and Theodores swears he won’t ever be the same again. One look at you, hair splayed out against the mattress, your back arched off the bed. It’s a sight he’d never forget.

“Don’t say shit like that. I’m already close to losing it.” He utters, voice strained as his hand grip your hips harshly, surely leaving imprints.

“Good. Ruin me.” You whisper, a fucked-out grin on your face.

Theodore groans, pulling out slightly before slamming back into you. You gasp, cursing as your hands grip Theodore's sheets. He sets a ruthless pace, fucking into you hard. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, though you’re sure it had to be muffled by the moans leaving your lips. It was only then that you were thankful for having a room all the way on the top floor. You both were too drunk to realise Muffliato did exist.

“God, you’re so fucking tight. Taking me so well. It’s like you were fucking made for my cock” Theodore groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hands come up, running along his back as you lean up (to the best of your ability) to meet him in a kiss.

Theodore's forehead presses against yours, breaths mingling as he shifts slightly, before thrusting back into you. You can feel every inch of his cock brush against your walls, and you can’t help the pathetic plethora of moans and whimpers escaping your lips when he brushes against that spot, stoking a fire in your stomach.

“Theodore- Fuck! ‘m gonna…” You babble, and he lazily smirks, slowing down slightly as one hand tangles in your hair, tugging at it lightly. He experimentally plays with it for a second before harshly tugging your hair, eliciting another moan that felt like it came from the depths of your body, the line of pain and pleasure blurred.

“Hmm? You’ll have to speak up.” He hums, teasing you with shallow, slow thrusts.

You let out a whimper at the loss of contact, frustration gnawing at you as you look up at Theodore.

“Fuck, stop being such a tease. Please just..” You whimper, trailing off and he tuts, his grip on your hair tightening slightly as he forces you to look up at him.

“You have to tell me what you want. I don’t speak in half sentences, sweetheart.” He says, voice laced with an almost animalistic pleasure.

You groan, nails digging into Theodore's back as some slight form of retaliation.

“I’m gonna cum- please.” You say, breathlessly, and a small smirk tugs at his lips, his hand loosening its vice-like grip from your hair as it trails down the side of your face, his thumb running along your bottom lip.

“Good girl. Since you asked so nicely,” He muses, no longer teasing you with shallow thrusts as he wastes no time slamming back into you, cock brushing against your cervix. You moan, eyes rolling back as the heat in your stomach rises rapidly; the sensation of Theodore fucking into you was pure perfection.

“Theo…” You moan, breathlessly. He responds to you moaning his name with a harsh snap of his hips, nails digging into your hips as he grabs them tightly.

“Say it again.” He grunts, his thumb coming down to rub harsh circles against your neglected clit, sending a surge of electricity through you.

“Mmm- Ah, Fuck- Theo-“ You moan, and you’re sure you would have done it without him even asking.

“You close? Gonna cum on my cock?” He groans, and you’re sure you’ve become mush because you can’t respond, can’t think, your mind and body reduced down to one simple thing.

Theodore. Theodore, Theodore, Theodore.

You teeter impossibly close to your climax, nails scratching down his back. The sheer ecstasy was too much, and you felt like you couldn’t handle it but also like you needed more and more.

His eyes take over you, as if even though you're both inebriated, he tried to commit every little detail to memory, the way you moaned, mascara streaked around those eyes of yours.

His thrusts grow more intense, fingers working their magic against your clit as he brings you to your release. His relentless thrusts push you close to the edge over and over again,, eliciting a strangled moan from your lips as you feel his thrusts become sloppier, indicating that he was close. With what little strength you have left you wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer as his lips descend down onto you, ravishing you with messy kisses. It takes one last thrust for you to be sent hurtling over the edge, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as your orgasm crashes through your body with frightening force. Your walls clench around Theodore's cock, eliciting a low groan from him as he chases his own release, eyes never leaving yours.

It’s positively sinful, but he’s sure he’s never seen a prettier sight.

“Fuck-“ He grunts, his movements becoming erratic as you feel him twitch inside you. your legs don’t give in, though you’re surprised you have the strength as the rest of your body convulses with the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“So fucking perfect.” He gasps, and with one final thrust, he stalls, burying himself deep inside you as he groans, hands momentarily tightening their grip on your hips before relaxing slightly. He utters your name with reverence like a sinful prayer, coming down to press lazy kisses to your lips as he releases deep inside you.

You reciprocate the kisses, and embarrassingly whimper at the loss of contact as Theodore pulls out of you, collapsing down next to you. You’re both breathless, panting as you come down from a high you've never experienced before. The post-orgasmic haze lingers over you, making you feel impossibly sleepy. Your eyes flicker over to Theodore and it’s evident that he feels the same. Your eyes widen slightly when you see the red spattering along his neck, not realising when you had done that.

In any other situation, you both wouldn’t have done this in the first place. But the effects of the alcohol had you both giving into temptation, and you didn’t fully comprehend just how badly you both had fucked up.

You roll over, pressing a teasing kiss to the hollow of his throat as he tugs the blankets over the two of you, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. He rests his face in the crook between your neck and your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder with an arm wrapped around your waist. You let out a small sigh of contentment, wrapping an arm around him as his hand massages your back and side lightly, the tender feeling sending you further into that sleepy state. The sheets smell of Theodore, and you find yourself (as you often did) consumed by him.

You and Theodore both fall asleep in each other's arms, holding onto one another as the night passes by.

You had fucked up, truly.

If only you knew the consequences your actions would bring in the morning.

You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, for it was a known saying that drunk words are sober thoughts.

The same undeniably applied to actions too.

@llpovi @camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #blaise zabini #theodore nott #pansy parkinson #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott angst #theodore nott smut

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marzipanandminutiae · 2 years

Text

articles about the “wild new trend” of piercing from the late ‘50s and early ‘60s are fascinating to read. a selection of excerpts:

- one doctor cautioned that girls with pierced ears would be “required to constantly wear earrings to hide the holes in their heads” (or you could just not be weird about a tiny dot on someone else’s earlobe?)

- Genevieve Dariaux, then director of the Nina Ricci couture house, said in 1965 that “Pierced ears are unthinkable for an elegant woman, and even more dreadful for a young girl.” bear in mind that, as I’ve said, earrings that made your ears LOOK pierced were still common. what the difference was, nobody has yet made plain

- lots of evidence that going to a doctor was the preferred “safe” method for piercing at the time. but many doctors refused to do it, or said they would but that they strongly discouraged patients from having the procedure done. this checks out with my mother’s experience in 1965- her schoolmate’s anesthesiologist father did free piercing for all his daughter’s friends

- some teenagers around 1965 called clip and screwback earrings “chicken earrings” (implying that the wearers were too scared of pain to get their ears pierced, I think)

- one advice column, also from 1965, implied that pierced ears were just a passing fad. the previous several centuries of western history would like a word, Mx. Columnist...

- A GIRL WITH RESTRICTIVE PARENTS BRINGING UP THE ARGUMENT THAT HER GRANDMOTHER HAD PIERCED EARS. YES. FINALLY SOMEONE REALIZED THE LOGICAL FALLACIES HERE. the argument against that is, indeed, a sort of “that was the Bad Old Days and we know better now” deal as some other commenters have hypothesized

- one article mentions that the trend could be part of the Victorian revival that was just becoming popular in the mid-60s, which is a fascinating thought I’ve never considered before

- many doctors complaining that they were suddenly being called upon to pierce ears despite not really knowing how. this is interesting, because before the Great Ear-Piercing Taboo, jewelers offering piercing services were more like modern piercers than Claire’s employees (and doctors weren’t involved at all unless an infection set in). descriptions I’ve read of Victorian piercer-jewelers mention a lot of things we’re familiar with today- needles designed with a hollow for inserting the starter jewelry, for example, and even “freezing” solutions to numb the earlobe. so in those early resurgence days, going to a long-established jewelry store for your piercing might actually have been a better option than a doctor’s office

- two young women in a 1964 Canadian article (from Calgary) mention that they think screwback earrings look cheap and gaudy, and the pierced version is more conservative and tasteful, in an interesting reversal of mainstream thought

- a newspaper columnist saying pierced ears give him “the wim-wams,” so they are to be avoided. whatever the hell that means

- a LOT of people seem to think that ear piercing was popular in the Victorian era because wealthy women didn’t want to lose their expensive jewelry. sorry folks- my collection of Victorian costume earrings (all pierced) says otherwise

- much confusion as to why modern girls want to do something so old-fashioned

- one woman marvels at how comfortable it is to wear earrings in pierced ears, as opposed to clips and screwbacks. I feel infinitely blessed, as an earring-lover, to have been born when I could escape the scourge of ear-vises altogether

- apparently an eccentric elderly man on Salt Spring Island, British Columbia, literally bribed all the women of the community to pierce their ears because he liked the way it looked. one of them mentioned that she held out for $25- $244 CAD or $188 USD in today’s money. all because some rich Victwardian codger had a very specific fetish

- this absolutely incredible response of an Indian diplomat’s wife when asked, in New York, why she wore a diamond nose stud: “Because I feel [diamonds] become me more than rubies or emeralds.” QUEEN

- “when the fad changes, as it indubitably will-” are you certain of that, ma’am

#long post #ear piercing #fashion history #retro #vintage #dress history

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pinkslaystation · 2 months

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If I meant something to you.

toxic!Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

You want him, but does he want you? Part 2 :> Part 3 :< Word Count: 2.1k

Whatever you did, you always found yourself being a disappoint to your parents.

First, it was getting rejected from the university your parents intended you to go to. Then, it was working at a job that didn't utilise your degree. And now, it's complaint after complaint for being in a 'relationship' with some they didn't approve of.

"Honey, I just don't think he's the right one for you..." Your mother complained on the phone for what felt like the thousandth time this day.

You rolled your eyes exasperatingly, happy that she couldn't see your annoyance through the call.

"Ma...you haven't even met him, I don't see why it's such a big deal, I'm finally out of your hair anyways, isn't that what you wanted?" You argued.

Everyday felt like a battle for your parent's time and affection.

Living under the shadows of your siblings was a pain. Your older sister had pursued a law degree at a top university when you were just in high school, and moved abroad to practice at one of the best law firms in the US. Your younger brother, on the other hand, was in their 2nd year studying Aeronautical Engineering at the same university as the elder. You felt like the odd one out in every field.

And here you are, stuck working in retail even though you complete your Bachelors degree in Computer Science.

Whatever you did, just was not enough for your parents.

So you saved enough money from your job, took out a small loan and made the decision to pack your bags and move to the Midlands, which was just regionally higher up than where you initially resided in your family home. How funny was it that you were the last sibling to move out?

After weeks of working your ass of at your new 8-6 job...still in retail, one silent evening after taking out the trash, you found yourself coming face to face to your neighbor.

And to say to he was attractive was an understatement. He had a tall tower-like frame, height ranging anywhere from 6'2 to 6'4, his scarred face was decorated with dirty blonde, short yet soft, hair and a slight stubble. His face, though rough, looked almost model worthy and held a permanent angry face, eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenching as if it hurt to open them.

"You got a staring problem, love?" He scoffed at you, the first time your met. You stumbled over your words, eyes wide as saucepans.

"!- we- um..who..who are you?"

The blonde chuckled at you sarcastically, "Your neighbour, Riley, you won't see as often so close that bloody mouth of yours."

And he was right, out of 7 months of living at your new flat, you'd seen him only a handful of times. You often found yourself questioning his occupation, why exactly he hangs out and about the area for a week, then just suddenly just disappears, like a ghost.

You'd learnt from the other residents that he worked within the military, whether it was the marines, the air force or the army, you never knew, until one faithful morning, you found yourself nestled against his broad warm chest, both of you hungover from the block party that all of the residents had been invited to.

"Hmm...mornin'" He grunts out at you, and the slightly reddening marks running down his neck and the bruising hand prints on your waist told you enough about the previous night.

You stiffen next to him, but his rough skin grazing against your skin urges to continue to curl up beside him.

Fast-forward another 5 months, it's been nearly a year of knowing 'Riley' and nearly a year you'd seen anyone from your family. You've always wanted to know how long they would be able to go on without you...and you'd finally got your answer.

You've learnt a lot of things about 'Riley'. For starters, his full name was Simon, though everyone in the building referred to him by his last name (you'd pestered him too much, and he finally caved in and allowed you to call him by his first name). He was almost 10 years elder to you and his striking face was usually masked with a black balaclava or those disposable ones.

"Ma, I'm happy, why can't you just be happy for me?"

"Sweetheart, why don't you come home for the weekend and we can finally meet this man. I mean since you're exclusive and everything."

"We...we're not that level yet-"

"Your older sister's getting married and she's only 4 years older than you.-"

"Why do you keep bringing her up? What's she got to do with this?"

"Honey, listen, me and your father are happy you're with someone. I mean this is the first time someone actually liked you right?"

Ouch.

"It wouldn't hurt to meet the old fella, no?"

Ah, one important part I forgot to mention.

You weren't dating Simon.

In fact, you guys never really established a relationship between the two of you. When he was home from deployment, your evening usually consisted of lazing about after work, wine in hand, Simon walking in, a few words exchanged here and there about his work-

Oh, and the night ending with a good rough fucking.

The morning would come by and you'd walk into your shift, your hickey-adorned chest and neck covered with a black turtleneck although it was the middle of August (and against the uniform policy).

So one night you decided to break away from his dominating kiss, and sit him down for a heartfelt conversation-

"Why'd you want to complicate things," he sneers, "we're just fuck buddies yeah?"

"Excuse me? So, what those 5 months didn't mean shit to you?" You scoffed, rather offended that he looked down at you, just like your family.

"You're old enough to be my kid, what make you think this was gonna go anywhere?" He stands up, lighting a smoke, knowing you hated the stench of his cigarettes in your room. It was always your room, always your flat. You can't remember the last time you even went to Simon's place, if there ever was a time.

"Who has a kid at 10? And why'd you keep fucking me? And I'm 24 fucking years old, Jesus, why does that not go through anyone's thick ass skull?!"

"Calm down love, thought this arrangement was mutual, I've got pent up frustration from the military, you're pent up 'cos no one else wants you-"

"Those nights didn't mean anything to you?"

"You don't mean anything to me." He asserts furiously. You studied him, the glimpse of that comforting man who stroked your back and kissed your forehead post-sex really wasn't there.

The fuck does this guy think he is?

"Get out."

"Done."

And he gets up and leaves, blowing a puff of smoke as if to scent the room. Just like that. Wow, was there anyone in your life that actually cared about you?

All those Wattpad stories taught you that the guy usually fights for his lover, screaming back saying that he won't leave without a fight, arguing that that the pair deserved each other. And yet, here you are, sobbing in the shower, unable to differentiate whether your body is getting soaked from the water or from the river of salty tears streaming down your dull, lifeless face, all because the guy you wanted never truly wanted you back.

You felt used, mainly your body. Rubbing yourself full of soap just caused your mind to flash back to his thick calloused hands massaging every inch of skin.

When you occasionally saw him at the building get together, which you wonder why he even attends considering he just hates and complains about everyone (everyone but you of course), you'd find yourself glued on the spot, lips quivering, tears threatening to spill again- and the throbbing. Man, the throbbing you felt between your legs. If it wasn't for his dick, you'd really be wondering why you craved him so bad, because it's definitely not his nasty personality.

And every time you open your mouth to say something to him, to call him over, to greet him, hell you should be cursing him out in front of everyone, he just stormed out with his head down with what looks like a combination of embarrassment or grief.

Until one night, you get a phone call from your older sister, the unsaved number appearing unfamiliar to you. Your hesitant to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy," She drags out her words, as if to waste time. You can tell your mother meddled in between, "So, I'm having the engagement party by the end of this month, and um...you free to come? No worries if you can't."

You pause, did she even want you there?

"Sure."

"Cool. Um, Mum says you're seeing someone, you can bring 'em if you want."

"Sure."

"Yeah, dunno if it's serious enough but there's enough space in the venue."

"Sure."

There's a pause on the other line.

"Hey can you say anything other than 'sUrE'?" She mocks you. Your eyebrow twitches in amusement.

"Did you just call to brag about you and your fancy ass engagement party? And the audacity to not send an invite, if you don't want me there, just say it. I'm not a baby anymore." You frustratingly answer.

Your sister remains quiet on the other line and you can tell you struck a nerve.

"I- listen I know we never get along but can you please come? Ma keeps mentioning you, surprisingly, and- and we haven't seen you in months, you don't even reply to the memes on the family group chat..."

You blink. "We have a family group chat?"

The rest of the month was empty, and although you were thankful for no more surprising run-ins with Simon, you missed having a warm body next to you. You learnt from one of the residents that he's been deployed for 3 weeks, this particular one shorter than others.

He confused you, Simon. He hated the idea of being in a relationship with you, yet he did 'relationship things' with you. He disliked when people assumed you two were a couple in public, but he always had his arm around you protectively. Not even education was this stressful.

And as much as you wanted to sit and let the misery marinate into your mind, you knew the date of the engagement party was nearing and you knew you couldn't come empty-handed.

By the end of the 3rd week, you knew Simon had come home, recognising the sound of the heavy footsteps entering his flat next door at 3 in the morning, you being awake from all the stress your high-maintenance sister had thrown suddenly at you. But you couldn't help but notice the sound of a softer treads following his. Maybe he got a pet?

That night, you had trouble sleeping, unsure whether it was the stress of trying to impress your family or the light sound of the headboards of next door creaking. That sound was familiar, reminding you when he was over at your place, rocking gently inside of you, though you question why he's not with you this moment. Usually you'd find him at the other side of the door, tired eyes resembling those of a stray puppy looking for a place to stay.

You close your eyes, your mind racing to the thought of the burly man on the other side of the wall rubbing himself to the thought of you. You sink into the bed, disregarding that unignorable pulsating feeling.

Saturday morning come, and you stretched contently, knowing that you finally had the day off from work. But that short-lived happiness dimmed when you checked the unread notification blasting through your phone.

7:29 A.M. #####:- hey listen i meant it when i said i wanted you there. pls come. #####:- it wouldnt just make ma happy but me too #####:- u gotta be there to make look better haha im joking

You had a feeling that she was not.

7:56 A.M. #####:-and uh, bring your guy as well pls, ma's so excited planning this wedding she wants to get started on the next one too lolol #####:- also she thinks your lying :/

Great, now there's actual pressure to bring someone.

Your morning dose of caffeine didn't hit today, as your body feels heavier than usual as you trudge all the way to your doorstep. When the last time you actually left your apartment if not for work?

Forcing yourself to look decently good, you make your way to your neighbour's doorstep, knocking so softly you almost tried again, until the door abruptly open, revealing a wet toweled Simon.

An eerie silence captures the atmosphere, consists of his eyes drinking in your disheveled appearance after almost a month, and yours undressing him, as if he wasn't already standing almost-nude.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, "Listen I know you've been deployed for the past 3 weeks, but listen I need a favour, I know you hate me and don't want to be with me but I really need a date to an engagement party, and I hate men and men hate me so I don't know anyone but you, and here me out, but could you please take some time out of your month to please be my date, I know you don't like me like that, which makes no sense to me 'cos you're in that mask almost the same number of times as you're in me- just please give it a thought-"

There's a cough behind Simon.

A half nude woman runs past you, head down in shame, smilingly guiltily as she tiptoes out of his room. She heard it all, you thought.

You look at Simon, suddenly recollected last night's events, the 2nd footsteps, the headboard banging. It all made sense. You really didn't mean anything to him.

Simon shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

"Surprise?"

its's 2 a.m. as i post this...why do my brain cells suddenly begin to work post-midnight I've decided to start a tag list! -> lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum

#call of duty #cod #simon riley #simon angst #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost angst #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod

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taintedone · 2 years

Text

TAG DUMP

#/ NO WOLVES LIVE HERE / ( ooc )#/ BORN FROM TRAGEDY / ( introspection )#/ THERE'S A BEAST AND I LET IT RUN / ( wolf form )#/ WHAT A WICKED GAME YOU PLAY / ( desires )#/ I WRITE SINS NOT TRAGEDIES / ( prompts )#/ ITS A SIN / ( open starter )#/ BEHIND EVERY REFLECTION THERE RESIDES A MONSTER / ( countenance )#/ ALWAYS HAS TO HAVE THE LAST WORD / ( musings )#/ CONFESSIONS OF A HYBRID / ( in character )#/ I HATE WHAT I'VE BECOME / ( older )#/ I'VE GOT A WAR IN MY MIND / ( mass effect )#/ DEVILS IN THE DETAILS / ( supernatural )#/ NO FRIEND OF MINE / ( dc comics )#/ LETS MAKE A DEAL / ( marvel 616 )#/ TIRED OF FEELING LIKE I'M FUCKING CRAZY / ( teenager )#/ DARKNESS MET YOU THE DAY YOU WERE BORN / ( mother- monique )#/ RUN BOY RUN / ( childhood )#/ THEY CALL HIM THE BLACK WOLF / ( historical )#/ THESE WOUNDS WILL NOT HEAL / ( older visage )#/ THERE'S JUST TO MUCH THAT TIME CANNOT ERASE / ( vampire diaries )#/ SIGNED IN BLOOD / ( psa )#/ ALL OUT OF BAD OMENS / ( queue )#/ I will get more stuff done tomorrow /

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spookypete-94 · 3 days

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Dark Horse- Breath

PriceXFem!reader

Start of a mini series. Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Non-con mentioned but not described. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

Hard work was never something that had bothered you. Entering the work force at the ripe age of 14, you had learned many things the hard way. Like how what you thought was your "Highschool Sweetheart" was the love of your life.. Until he took advantage of you, in a time where you had too much to drink at a graduation celebration caused by him egging you on. Ultimately, the cost of his choice forcing you to become pregnant. You did not know how ever, that you were carrying his child when you broke it off with him, upset he had pulled such a stunt on you. Again, learning the hard way- you became forever tied to him, but would never settle with him.

Even for such a hardship to happen at a young age, you were blessed with the best gift. A piece of you. The entire pregnancy, you prepared yourself for the baby to come out like your ex. A reminder of what happened to you, but would care for nonetheless. But to your surprise, your baby boy came out with your color hair and orbs that matched your own. Literally the apple from your tree which quickly became the center of your eye.

Naming him Abel, meaning breath. He would be your fresh air. A man you would try to raise better for this world.

Locking the door behind you, you turned down to look at your little one. He was always so bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, donning his school backpack.

"We got everything?"

"Yup." Abel said popping the p, reaching for your hand to hold it as you walked him to his school. He rather liked school for his age, making friends with ease. Watching as he skipped next to you, and listening to what he thought was going to happen at school today. These moments were what you loved most, feeling truly connected with Abel.

Infront of the school doors, kneeling down to speak with him face to face and fiddle with his jacket.

"Dad will pick you up today." You said smoothing his hair.

"Oh.." Abel said quietly. Abel knew how hard having split custody with his dad was for you. Your ex may be terrible to you, but he was a good father to Abel. Making getting full custody of Abel hard and the fact due to your funds coming from a restaurant. Of course the boy who took advantage of you turned into a man that became successful. Many times he would bait you ,"If you just came back to me." A smug smirk on his face almost telling you he'd knew you would come running back. Instead, you planted firmly, took root and grew. Getting a job at a local restaurant and quickly becoming it's best worker. Making enough to make ends meet, living pay check to pay check but still taking care of your son.

"It'll be alright momma, I'll see you later tonight." His arms coming around his neck and pulling you into him. Nearly teetering on falling over, but instead pulling him into you closer to lean on him. A perfect explanation of your relationship with Abel.

Watching him run into school you waited for him to slip inside, and walked to work. Hoping for a busy day to help with distraction making it go quick until you can see Abel again.

It for sure started off with a bang, like someone had fired a starter gun. Table after table, coffee turning into soda signifying the change from breakfast into lunch. Answering the phone of what you thought was going to be a to go order. was actually a phone call from your son's school. He had forgot his lunch. Thinking about how you had locked the door after asking, but then realizing his lunch box was on the counter still at home. Sighing, feeling further rushed, your boss Kate, could tell something was off and you explained what had happened.

"Well take him lunch," she said matter-of-factly like she couldn't understand why you were so stressed about it. "I got your tables for now." You were quick about it, asking your line cook for a cheeseburger and fry explaining the situation. Thankfully just pulling one he had just started for a customer and giving it you, you rushed out the front door.

Sudden surprise struck you, as you turned the corner and collided with a regular patron with your shoulder.

"Oh!" you said turning to look at the man with gentle blue eyes and brown mutton chops. "Sorry John." He would come in periodically, sometimes almost every day for 2 weeks and then would up and disappear for a month. Figuring it was military related, you always tried to be nice to him as he always left a generous tip.

"Careful love," he grumbled a name he said to you often ,"where you off to?"

"Abel forgot his lunch," you said showing him the bag, before starting to walk again.

"Silly boy," he said watching you walk away, hand resting on the door handle of the building. You grinned before sprinting off again in the direction of his school.

Finding him in the lunch room, you dropped he bag off in front of him.

"Sorry momma," he said at your winded state.

"Its fine, we just gotta clear out your lunchbox when we get home." Kissing the top of his head and quickly ruffling his hair. "Love you, see you later." Waving as you left heading back to work- this time at a stiff walking pace, too winded from running prior.

Back at the restaurant, the lunch rush starting to slow down as you approached Kate behind the counter, tying your apron back on again. "Thank you," you said whispering to her.

"It's fine," with a warm smile, her eyes peering up at you from the counter. "Your regular is still here."

Rolling your eyes, you gave her the same grin you had shown John earlier. "Not my regular. Maybe he is your regular."

"He didn't use to come every day like he does until you started."

"He doesn't come everyday."

"You know what I mean," she chirped back. "And he only ever tips you like that." Shaking your head, you started bussing tables, wiping down, and restocking preparing for the dinner rush.

In the mean time of waiting, you tried to make small talk with John.

"Want cherry pie? Fresh one was made this morning."

"Sure," he said sliding his coffee forward for a refill. Filling it, and turning to the kitchen to grab the slice of pie.

"Cherry pie?? That's your way of flirting?" Kate asked leaning against a kitchen counter, the cook giving a small snort and smile listening to your banter.

"Fuck off, I'm making you profit." causing her to cackle loudly.

Pie on the plate, you slipped through the saloon style doors and back into the dining room.

"Told a funny joke 'aye?" he asked.

Staring blankly, for a second you realized he heard Kate cackling. "Oh! That, no, just bullshitting with Kate."

The feeling of nervousness returning seeing his eyes peer up at you locking with yours before cutting into his pie, watching him poke some into his mouth on his fork. There must be a God however, because a table walking in is what broke your gridlock with him, grabbing your pad and paper. Ready to get back to work.

The entire dinner shift was a blur. John still there at the counter moving to a more private booth with 3 other men. Like he had been waiting for a meeting.

In the mode, your nervousness and anxiety left you, taking the order and trying to offer the best service you can. The mode finally being broke when 2 little arms snuck around your waist and hugged you from behind.

"Momma!" he yelled into the back of your apron. Kneeling down and turning around you hugged him around his shoulders. "Hey love bug."

"I missed you!! but..." and you could tell the next part he did not want to say.

"What's the matter..." You asked lowly and quietly.

"Dad's outside, he wants to talk to you." Your eyes leering up, seeing him outside leaning against his car, arms crossed.

"Ok, go tell Kate to give you some pie." You said ushering her to his direction. Eyes connected with Kate's speaking with a face that told her you were going outside as you untied your apron and placed it back behind the counter. She leaned to the side to see who it was you were meeting and once she did, the eye roll she gave back to you from the burning hatred she has for him.

Taking a deep breath in, closing your eyes to focus.

That's what you told yourself. Breath. Breathe. Abel, breathe for Abel. Little did you know, the booth all the way in the back, 4 pairs of eyes watching you. John's sending a glare in the direction, like he knew what was happening and the distress you were under.

The air outside humid from the impending summer that was approaching. The night sky starting to turn dark and street lights coming on. You refused to acknowledge him, instead standing in front of him with your arms crossed.

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Our son told me you forgot to send him with lunch today."

"I did- but then I ran some to him." You said defensively knowing all to well your son did not say it in a manner to throw you under the bus.

"If its that hard for you to make sure he has what he needs, you should come back so I can do that for you both."

"No. You know that's never going to happen." Tone almost feral, tired of being beat with the idea.

"Fine," he huffed out almost nonchalantly, "Then here is this." He said presenting a packet of documents rather aggressively.

Looking on the front page, you saw it was a petition from him filling for full custody. He was trying to take Abel from you.

"Are you fucking kidding me??" Your tone hot.

"Don't think I won't win it. A mother working at a restaurant as her main source of income?? Unable to make sure he has lunch at school. Who knows what else you are failing at," his tone smug like he had full custody already. "Cat in the bag, Abel will be with me. And you can either join, or be miserable. Your choice." He said leaning down over you, laughing at your slack jaw look at him.

"You can't take him from me, I'm his mother."

"I'm his father with a full time job, money saved. I will do as a please. As I always do." He said darkly, hissing into your ear referring what had happened in the past.

Realizing how close he was, the reek of his pride burning your nose and eyes caused you to shove him back from you. He laughed, finding your attempt weak, seeing he got under your skin.

The scene could be seen from inside the restaurant, thankfully it was almost empty, John's table being the last one. Abel had his back turned from it and Kate stood inside distracting him from what was going on outside. Everyone couldn't help but notice John standing up however, long strides in his gait trying to get to you quickly. The other 3 with him standing up and following.

To your ex's mercy, he got into his car, still laughing before the group got outside the doors.

John continued outside, the other 3 standing inside, lax now. Hot tears stung your eyes and you did not want to present yourself to Abel yet.

"Love," John said quietly approaching you.

Turning to look at him over your shoulder, you quickly wiped your eyes, trying to look normal not wanting to bleed on him emotionally, but it didn't work.

"Love, what happened?" he asked approaching finally seeing your state. Unable to answer him, you hand him the packet of papers. Looking down on them he could see the intent behind it.

"I can't afford a lawyer," you choked to him. An arm coming around your shoulders pulling you into him. You never realized he smelled of pine and tobacco until now.

He let you sob into him. Heavy cries you tried to smother into his chest. John took in a large breath before finally uttering, "Marry me."

"What?" you asked thinking you misheard him.

"Marry me," he repeated, firmer this time.

You looked up at him wild look in your eyes. "Marry you??" you repeated.

"I'm British military. My benefits would be your benefits. Meaning you would have a lawyer." Your eyes bounced back and forth between the glaciers above you. Uncertainty filling you... but a spark of hope igniting. Had your conundrum really been solved this easily? You would do anything for your son.

Finally finding your voice, you muttered an "Ok." to him.

Strong arms wrapped back around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his head on top of yours. The shock of everything that had just happened, all you could do was lean into it. Breathing him in. A Breath in, Breath out.

"What jus' happened?" The one with the mohawk asked, leaning over to the one in the blue hat still watching through the windows. The blue hat answered "I think Cap'n is gettin' married."

Dark Horse Masterlist

Captain John Price Masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

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personasintro · 7 months

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Mutual Help | #29

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

"Come on, Y/N," Jungkook chuckles, nose scrunched at the distress on your face as soon as you step out of the car and meet his very amused expression. "They're just my parents, nothing to be stressed about."

Rolling your eyes, his words bring no comfort to you whatsoever and it's noticeable on your face. "Yeah, exactly. They haven't seen me for-- fuck, I can't even remember the last time I've seen them." you gasp.

What if they don't want you here? You're coming with their son to visit them, you're practically a stranger to them. No matter how much welcomed they made you feel when you first visited. But it was for three hours, not for the weekend. It doesn't matter how many times Jungkook assured you on your way to Busan, that his parents know you're coming and they're excited to see you again, you feel like you're about to meet your parents-in-law (which is ridiculous). This is your best friend's parents whom you met already. You just worry you'll be a burden to them, even though you know they're lovely people.

"Two years ago," Jungkook responds, "The first time you came with me to Busan and visited them."

You're so annoyed how careless he's taking this, which of course he does, these are his parents he can't wait to see and unfortunately don't get to see that often. You know he usually calls his mom almost every day and they even video chat together throughout the week. Still, you hate how you're the only person feeling uneasy.

"Fuck," you breathe out, "It's been that long?" you whine, ready to smack your face into the palms of your hands but before you can do that, Jungkook stops you and grabs your shoulders.

"For starters, stop swearing," he advises, causing you to gulp as you obediently nod. Shit, you hope you won't swear in front of them. Sometimes you can't control it, maybe that's why Jungkook is warning you in front of their house. "And stop, my parents like you. Jungwon too."

"Jungwon?"

Your eyes widen at the mention of Jungkook's older brother. You got the chance to meet him and hang out with him, with Jungkook of course, a couple of times when he was visiting Seoul or you went to Busan with Jungkook. It's safe to say his older brother has his own charms, just like it runs in the family, which explains the little crush you had on him when you were eighteen. You were at that age when not many guys looked attractive enough for you but Jungwon, that was a whole nother story. Surprisingly, Jungkook resembles his father a lot. He's a spitting image of him with a tiny mixture of features that he got from his mother. However, Jungwon resembles Mrs. Jeon.

"Yeah, he's coming too." Jungkook tells you, shrugging and your jaw drops ready to scold him that he missed this tiny fact and hadn't told you. Something tells you he purposely left that fact out, already sensing your uncertainty when it came closer to the weekend.

Before a swear word can leave your mouth (because you're just like that and that's exactly why Jungkook alerted you to not swear), the front door of Jeon's house is pushed open before a cheerful voice carries itself onto the street.

"Jungkookie!"

There is no mistake the voice belongs to Jungkook's mother, the same sweet and melodic voice you got to hear personally two years ago, or whenever Jungkook calls with her and you just happen to be there.

Jungkook turns to you, giving you a perfect view of his little scrunched nose from the nickname his mother calls him, growing embarrassed but you see the warmth spreading on his lips and in his eyes at the sight of his mother. He doesn't hesitate, calling out to her before they both meet in a loving hug.

"Were you waiting by the door?" Jungkook teases her, obviously knowing how excited she's been to finally see her son after a couple of months of not seeing him personally. Video and voice calls only do so little.

"No, I just walked past the window a few times until I saw your car parking in front of the house," she tells him, causing the two of them to laugh and to be fair, it makes you smile in amusement because there's obviously so much excitement evident on her face.

"Y/N, sweetheart! Don't just stand there, come here so I can give you a hug too!" she calls out to you, hands already waving you over as you smile and make your way to the both of them.

You barely get to greet her properly before you're being crushed in a hug, her arms tightly wrapped around your frame while she pats your back a couple of times. Or more like smacks which makes you choke, earning an amused chuckle from Jungkook beside you who simply just pats his mother's shoulder.

"Don't choke her, mom. I kinda need her." he says jokingly, causing you to snort and if his mom wasn't here, you would give him a proper smack.

Listening to her son, she lets you go but still lets her hands graze over your forearm as she stares at you with wide and happy eyes. She looks good, almost too good for a woman of her age. By that you don't mean that she's old, but she looks way younger than a woman who has two adult sons. There are a few wrinkles adoring her face, mainly beside her eyes and mouth mostly caused by her smiling rather than her being in her late forties. But she looks just the same since you last saw her, even better.

"It's so good to see you, Mrs. Jeon." you grin, giving her a slight bow which she just waves off as if there's no reason for you to do that.

She's always been more friendly, rather than formal and strict. Maybe that's why Jungkook is such a lovely human being, raised by two people who gave him and his brother nothing but love and support. Just her sweet greeting and personality is enough to ease your nerves, and your past doubts about coming here are wiped away.

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart! I wish you both would visit more often," she says, giving a teasing grin to her son.

She's aware that her son doesn't exactly live close enough to visit every day, and he has a job and his own life to take care of now. As much as he's busy and not able to visit how he would love to, he's trying to keep in touch with his parents and family as much as he can. Being friends with Jungkook made you realize and notice that he's a family guy and knowing his family you know the reason behind that is the constant love he's receiving from them. It's understandable and even though Jungkook can be quiet to himself and much reserved, he's a caring friend who loves his family and friends.

"Come inside! Your father will come home later, he's still working!" she says, ushering the two of you to get your stuff from the truck as she's already opening the front door.

Their house, the one where Jungkook grew up, is the same just like you remember when you last visited. Sure, there are a couple of changes with the decorations such as different plants or pictures hanging on the wall, but other than that, it still carries that sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent and looks just the same. When you look at Jungkook who puts down his and your travel bags, you notice the fond smile he has as he looks around. Maybe this is what he needed, to get out of Seoul and come to different thoughts. It's surely better than getting drunk with his friends, now that you think of it.

You're so overwhelmed with everything — even though there's not that much going on — except you're about to spend the weekend at Jungkook's childhood house, you're oblivious to another presence in the house until you make your way into the living room.

"Look who decided to show up!"

Your eyes widen, the look of shock quickly wiped off as soon as Jungwon stands up from the couch and greets you both with a wide grin. He's outstretching his arms, already walking towards Jungkook who seems to mimic his grin before they hug into another warm hug.

Jungwon looks slightly different than you remember him, although he remains to look just the same at the same time. It's hard to describe, but the few points you manage to make before his face is hidden in Jungkook's shoulder, he looks slightly bigger and bulky than you remember him. His hair is short, shorter than Jungkook's right now and now that they're standing beside each other, you notice that Jungkook is slightly taller than Jungwon.

"Look at his hair, oh my!" Mrs. Jeon says, walking to her two sons as she swipes her fingers through Jungkook's thick and dark hair like any mother would. "Don't you need a haircut, darling?"

Jungkook looks at her, looking offended as he gasps at his mother's proposal meanwhile Jungwon cackles before his attention is turned to you. He smiles widely, already enveloping you in a hug just like his mother did, although his one is much more gentler.

"How have you been?" he asks politely, grinning at you. You're reminded of your tiny and silly crush that you used to have on him, which you totally understand now that you're looking at him. He's still handsome, both of them are. They've got some great genes, that's for sure.

"Great, it's nice to change the scenery and I'm so grateful that I can be here." you tell him, hearing Mrs. Jeon tease Jungkook about his hair some more which causes him to whine like a little kid.

"Of course, we're glad to have you here." he smiles at you, before your conversation is quickly cut off by Jungkook turning to you with a bunny grin.

"Besides, Y/N says I look good with longer hair. Don't I?"

You almost grin at his hopeful eyes that practically beg you to agree with him, although you see the teasing glint in his eyes. "He does." you nod, Mrs. Jeon smirking from the corner of your eyes before she grabs Jungkook's arm and pulls up the sleeve of his shirt.

"And you got more tattoos?" she gasps, staring at her son's inked skin while Jungwon whistles in appreciation and eyes them too.

"Yeah, just a little bit. There are not that many." he answers, sounding like he's calming down his mother who seems to be shocked by the sudden ink that's covering her son's right arm. Surely, she has seen the few ones he got the first time but since then, he added a couple more to his collection.

"Oh, my sweet boy. You grew up so fast!" she whines, clutching to his right arm like a koala which makes you smile and gush at her cuteness meanwhile Jungkook laughs with his nose scrunched again.

"Here we go again." Jungwon jokes beside you, walking with you while Mrs. Jeon is too busy tugging Jungkook to sit down on the couch trying to catch up with him.

It's nice to see Jungkook being back home, his childhood home, catching up with his mother who looks nothing but proud of her son and his accomplishments as he shows her some pictures he's taken. Like every mother, she gushes at each picture he shows her while he comments on each picture and what occasion it had been taken.

You don't fail to notice that in between their childhood pictures hanging all around the living room, there are a few pictures Jungkook had taken, professional ones that again scream nothing but a proud mom. To some stranger, they would just think those are the pictures to go with the interior. To you, as someone who knows Jungkook and his type of work, you know it's his.

And even though you're here as a guest, not even once they make you excluded and you find yourself chatting with Mrs. Jeon and Jungwon just like Jungkook does. They're kind enough to be curious about you and your own life, making you feel like a part of the family and as if Jungkook could read your mind, when your eyes meet there's a soft and understanding smile spreading on both of your lips.

Jungkook catching up with his mother and brother is a very touching and nice sight to see, especially when Jungkook looks much more happy and okay than the last time you've seen him. Funnily enough, it was the morning after he got drunk and woke up, flashbacks coming back to your mind instantly.

"You okay?" you ask, voice worried at the sight of tired Jungkook whose face is completely puffy and slightly pale from the amount of alcohol he drank.

Somehow, he managed not to throw up during the time you both were sleeping. Still, you kept the bucket beside his bed after you woke up just in case.

Jungkook's eyes are scrunched, barely even registering you before he takes your appearance, seeing you all dressed up with the makeup bag in your hand. Fuck, he forgot you're moving back home today. He can't even think properly, his head is about to burst and his stomach hurts. Noticing the pills on the nightstand, he gulps them down with the water that you prepared for him before he's capable of giving you any attention.

"Fuck, I'm dying." he groans, plopping back into his soft sheets as he hears your amused chuckle. You must be enjoying this right now, he thinks. You kind of are, it's a rare sight seeing him so hungover and well, you're glad he's not crying and is relatively fine.

"Don't be dramatic," you roll your eyes, "I wasn't sure if you'd be eating after you wake up, but there isn't much in the fridge. I recommend ordering a chicken soup that could help with the stomachache and hangover overall. I'd do that for you, but I had to move back in and the repairman is already waiting for me."

Shit, he can barely focus on your words. The only thing he caught was something about a chicken soup and you having to go.

"Fuck, sorry. Let me dress up, I'll go with you." he raps out but barely has any strength to lift himself up as he stays laying in his bed.

Snorting, you sit beside him as he cracks one eye open before he pries open the other one. "And why would you do that?"

"I don't know? To help, I guess."

There's no point in him coming with you. All you've to do is talk to the repairman, so he can explain what really went wrong and you'll probably have to sign some papers. You haven't brought that much clothes and stuff with you, and you've your own car parked in the parking lot. You're completely fine with going by yourself.

"There's no need. You should rest," you tell him, "Do you remember yesterday? Or today is more accurate." you chuckle, seeing him sigh as he licks his dry lips.

"I would rather not," he groans, "I can't remember everything but enough to be embarrassed." he admits, causing you to laugh but you shrug in response.

"I don't think you've to be embarrassed. Everyone gets drunk from time to time and you weren't that bad, although I thought I would slap you. God, I wanted to so badly. You were so annoying, but funny at the same time." you try to easen up his embarrassment and assure him that it's not the end of the world.

However, Jungkook thinks otherwise.

"I'm sorry." he mumbles into his pillow, closing his eyes as you look at him with pity.

"You don't have to apologize, Kook. I'm just glad you're fine. You are, right?"

"I guess," he shrugs but that's not enough of an answer for you. "I think the alcohol just intensified my emotions and I just lost control over myself. I'm sorry you had to come pick me up, I know I told you I got it."

"It's okay," you assure him, "I know you'd do the same if it was me."

He stays quiet, silently agreeing with you but at the same time he looks like he's completely out of it and barely staying awake.

"Okay, I gotta go. You should sleep it off and don't worry about me. It's not the first time and certainly not the last time that I'm saving your ass." you joke hearing him letting out a sarcastic laugh.

"Y/N?" His muffled voice is heard as you're picking up your travel bag off the floor. You look at him, seeing him lifting himself on his elbows as he looks at you.

His hair is completely disheveled, sticking to every possible direction and if it weren't for his poor puffy eyes and for the pity you feel towards him right now, you'd most likely cackle at the sight and even snap a picture for the future.

"Thank you," he says, making sure you hear him as you give him a smile. "Are you still coming with me to Busan next weekend?"

"Yeah, text me the details. Gotta go, bye Kook." you tell him, hearing a faint bye from him before you're rushing from his apartment.

You're already running late.

You hadn't seen him for almost a week, since the two of you had hectic working schedules but you texted each other almost every day. When it was nearing the weekend, he texted you details saying he'll come pick you up in the morning and here you are right now.

"Jungkookie, I even bought you the banana milk you love." Mrs. Jeon's voice cuts off your thoughts from last weekend and Jungkook's wild night out, causing everyone to chuckle as Jungkook's cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Mom," he whines, "I don't drink it anymore."

"You do, he still loves it." you interfere, ignoring the glare Jungkook gives you as Mrs. Jeon giggles and looks at her son knowingly.

"I always knew why I liked you." Jungwon says, laughing as you just shrug with a content smirk on your face, especially when Jungkook glaring at you in betrayal.

"Anyways, go and settle in. I'm cooking a proper lunch, Jungwon, you're helping me in the kitchen." Mrs. Jeon says, causing the older man to groan but you know he's just teasing his mother who glares at him in a warning before they both chuckle at each other.

It's nice seeing Jungwon here too. Not because of the stupid crush you used to have, which you don't anymore but you can still appreciate that he's still handsome and ageing suits him. As far as you know, he owns a coffee shop and stayed loyal to Busan since he's living here, staying close to his parents. Oh, and he's actually married. You forgot about that. Of course, he is. Who wouldn't snatch this handsome piece of man?

"Y/N, sweetheart, Jungkook's bedroom is ready for you. There are already fresh sheets and I brought you a diffuser there in case you'll have trouble sleeping, which I hope you won't be having. But feel free to use it." Mrs. Jeon tells you as Jungkook goes to grab your and his travel bags, ready to put your stuff in a place so it's not lingering on the floor in their corridor.

Smiling at her sweetness, you thank her while Jungkook stares with confusion written on his frowned features. "Is ready for you? What about me?" he quotes her, asking his mother who stares at him as if it's not obvious.

"You? You're going to sleep on the couch, of course." His mother shrugs, causing Jungkook's jaw to drop as he stares in disbelief at her.

"On the couch?" he clarifies, an almost horrified expression on his face that makes you chuckle in amusement as Jungwon does the same and winks at you when your eyes meet.

"Yes, on the couch," she clarifies dumbfounded, "You're going to be a gentleman and leave your bedroom to our guest. I hope you don't want her to sleep on the couch." she frowns at that thought.

You're trying to hide a smile because she looks cute and dangerous at the same time while Jungkook shakes his head.

"Of course not," he justifies quickly and innocently, "But my bed is big enough, it fits both of us."

"Yah!" You're surprised by the sudden loud and scolding voice that comes from none other than Mrs. Jeon herself. "She's your friend! Have some decency, ah, this kid."

She pinches Jungkook's ear as he whines and tries to use his height to get away from her, which he does successfully as Mrs. Jeon shakes her head disapprovingly at him before she walks away to the kitchen without another word. Not before she calls out to Jungwon who seems to be smirking and enjoying the little scene that just unfolded, which causes Jungkook showing him his middle finger which Jungwon mimics automatically.

Brothers.

As you make your ways to the stairs, you feel Jungkook leaning towards you as he tells you deeply and quietly, right into your ears. "If she only knew I've fucked you."

You gasp, ready to scold him but he's one step ahead of you as he takes two stairs at a time, but not before he gives you a cheeky grin. Shaking your head in disbelief, you can't help but chuckle and blush at the same time. What is he doing to you? You seriously can't with him.

Following him up the stairs and to his bedroom, it hasn't changed a bit. There are still posters of different rock bands on the bluish wall, and you remember when you first saw them. This room has such a different personality than his current bedroom back in Seoul. It's understandable, he grew up into a man and instead of posters, there are beautiful pictures he had admired ever since he got into photography. His whole apartment is designed into a modern place that makes you admire his choice of furniture and colors. His childhood bedroom is smaller than the one he has right now, it only fits his bed and small desk in the corner of his room, plus a chest of drawers where he used to keep all his clothes. There's no way it fitted all there. The amount of clothes, black clothes he has is just not enough for two chest of drawers.

The room is clean, smells like mint and wood, completely clear from Jungkook's scent which is caused by him simply not living here anymore.

Jungkook puts down your travel bags onto the floor, looking around with curious eyes before he lets out a gentle sigh that escapes his mouth.

"Please, tell me you haven't fucked anyone in that bed." you speak, pointing towards a made up bed that's definitely smaller than your or Jungkook's bed.

What the hell did he mean his bed is big enough for the two of you? Knowing him, he just doesn't want to sleep on the couch and somehow thought the argument of saying his bed is big enough would be okay with his mother. Remembering her glare she sent him is enough to make you chuckle underneath your breath.

"No, I haven't," Jungkook answers, cockily chuckling as he looks at you. "But I got a mindblowing blowjob on it."

Scrunching your nose in disgust, Jungkook laughs at your expression clearly enjoying the way you feign a gag. There's no lie that Jungkook had been famous among girls (and maybe some boys too) even in his teenage years. Even back in the day when he used to have slightly chubby cheeks and a few pimples on his face, which you know because Jimin told you that and you've seen some photos of him from that period.

"Thanks for coming with me." he says suddenly, causing your brows to shoot up before you give him a smirk.

"Nice and smooth way from blowjob mention to thanking me for coming." you laugh, seeing him grinning as he rolls his eyes at your joke.

"I'm serious," he chuckles, "I really am happy you came with me."

Your heart warms at that, seeing the look he has in his eyes that seem genuine and soft. "Of course, I'm glad to be here. Your mom is great, I've missed her." you smile.

"Did you miss Jungwon too?" he wiggles his brows, wiping the soft look on your face in a second as you send him a glare.

It wouldn't be Jungkook if he wasn't teasing you for the stupid crush you had on his older brother. You've never told him about it, but Jungkook is attentive enough to notice the way you acted around his brother. You weren't that scolding and typical Y/N Jungkook experienced and knows. Instead, you were giggling over anything he said and he even caught you blushing a few times whenever Jungwon was just being nice to you.

"Shut up," you scold him through clenched teeth, "I don't have a crush on him." you point out, because that's obviously what he was hinting at and judging by the smirk, he's enjoying it way too much.

Jungkook walks up to you, your features relaxing as a curiosity replaces the glare you were so kindly giving him. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to at that time he was pounding you to his mattress (or anywhere it was available) and you feel your breath hitching at the softness of his hand.

"That's a good thing you don't," he says deeply, eyes dancing across your face as he licks his bottom lip. "Because he's married and has a kid." he deadpans, ending it with pinching your cheek which happens all quickly. Yeah, you forgot about that kid part too.

You're left stunned, standing there for a moment but you do make sure you rush towards him as he walks out of his bedroom laughing, you slap his arm which he barely reacts to, laughing at your weak strength.

What a brat.

It was around five in the evening, just the right time for the dinner, when Mr. Jeon came from work. He excused himself, saying he had to stay overtime since he's the teacher in a college and had to grade essays before he could come home. Like he said, they never bring work home and he stayed loyal to that.

Even though you've met Jungkook's father before, the resemblance between him and his son is always quite interesting and in a certain way shocking. You could easily tell Jungkook is his son just by looking at him. Just like you remember him, he's welcoming and sweet like his wife, making sure he greets you properly and makes you feel welcomed in their house.

He catches up with Jungkook over dinner as he doesn't forget to praise his wife's cooking, which is incredible and that's why you're stuffing your mouth full. Now you understand Jungkook's constant praise of his mother's cooking. She deserves the title 'best cook' like Jungkook called her.

You're picking up some kimchi and garlic with your chopsticks when Mr. Jeon reaches for the soju and sips on it. "Jungkook-ssi, I'm glad you brought Y/N here. But how's Kiko? Where is she?"

You almost drop the chopsticks as soon as you hear the question, the name of Jungkook's ex lingering in the air but none of them know how suffocating the air has become. Jungkook's parents don't know that Jungkook broke up with her, judging by Mr. Jeon's question and looking at Jungwon, he seems equally interested in why his 'girlfriend' isn't here. They're probably wondering why you're here when Jungkook has a girlfriend, but they're too kind to voice that way. Mr. Jeon's question and curiosity is nowhere near impolite or rude in any way.

Looking at Jungkook, you see him stop swallowing for a few seconds as a prominent frown makes an appearance on his face before he allows himself to swallow the bite. He doesn't look at you, avoiding everyone's curious eyes and your pitiful gaze that you're giving him as you're sitting right next to him.

"We're not together right now." he answers, bracing himself to look at his parents.

Mr. Jeon's eyebrows shoot up in surprise while his wife gasps and puts a hand over her mouth.

"Oh no, what happened dear?" she murmurs, mimicking your pitiful gaze as she looks sad over the news.

Seeing this, you realize that Kiko is not only loved by her friends and everyone around her, but Jungkook's parents love her too. You always knew how important it is for Jungkook that his parents like and accept his girlfriend. His family means a lot to him.

Jungkook's parents not only loved her, but they adored her and were extremely happy whenever the two of them visited. Which was way more often than now. Jungkook's almost embarrassed at that fact, Kiko was the one who pushed him to visit Busan since she couldn't stop talking about Jungkook's family.

"We broke up," Jungkook settles on saying, but you see him gulp while he fights that lump that is stuck in his throat. "But we're possibly getting back together." he adds, wanting to sound hopeful but ends up sounding even more defeated.

"Oh, my baby," Mrs. Jeon gasps, "I hope you can work it out. She's such a lovely young lady and I know how much you love her. You are perfect for each other." she says, almost pouting while her husband nods along her words.

Those words affect you more than you'd like to. Especially since they've this image of her and don't know the whole truth. You're sure they wouldn't be her fans if they knew the truth and how much she hurt their son. It's not your story to tell and you decide to stay quiet, simply and quietly eating the food while the rest of the family seems still shaken up by the news. It's up to Jungkook whether he decides to tell them what happened or not.

There are a couple of reasons why he wouldn't want to tell them the truth. First, there might be some kind of embarrassment of admitting that he was cheated on. Secondly, there is still a chance they'll work it out and maybe he knows their parents would change the way they see her. Even though you're sure they're not capable of hating anyone, and will support their relationship nevertheless if it means their son is happy. It's very similar to the way you feel, even though you feel a bittersweet taste in your mind at Mrs. Jeon's words.

"We'll see," Jungkook gives them a tight smile, reaching for the beer as he simply sips on it. "I hope everything will work out just fine." he adds, but you're not sure whether he did it to get them off his back or really means it.

Either way, Mrs. Jeon nods as she gives her son a hopeful look. "I'm sure it'll, Jungkookie."

The rest of the dinner is much less cheerful than it was, no doubt that topic Kiko has affected everyone and not even casual conversation between Mr. Jeon and Jungwon haven't helped. They do bring up his son and wife into the conversation, saying they couldn't visit because they stayed home. Something about his son having a fever and they didn't want to risk it just in case it's something serious.

The evening is spent nicely, sitting in the living room while chatting with everyone and even though Jungkook seems fine, you do notice the sudden quietness and the lack of happiness he had when he came back home. Reaching for his hand, when everyone is too busy commenting on the current news that is playing on the television, you squeeze it and give him a soft smile of encouragement when he looks at you.

He returns it, mouthing 'I'm fine' as if he could read your mind. But then again, maybe he can't read your mind but he already knows you well enough to guess what goes on your mind.

It's around ten at night when everyone decides it's time to get ready for bed, and by that you mean taking turns in the bathroom because there's only one. Jungwon goes back to home, making sure he says goodbye to everyone. You don't miss the reassuring hug he gives Jungkook, murmuring something into his ear which Jungkook just nods to while he tries to muster a smile. The kind people Jeon's are, you're the first one who gets to take a shower, no matter how many times you've assured them that it's fine and you can wait. They insisted, so you try not to take too much there as you quickly take a shower and put your pajamas on. Saying goodnight feels awfully similar to the way you used to do so to your parents back home, bringing a nostalgia to your heart as you take a note to visit your family soon.

And it's around midnight when your body is ready to take a sleep, the peaceful quietness in the house is like a lullaby. But that's until the door of Jungkook's old bedroom is quietly and slowly being pushed open. Widening your eyes, you recognize the figure almost immediately but you don't even have to – because who else would be sneaking into the bedroom at midnight?

"Jungkook?" you mumble tiredly, plopping yourself onto the elbow.

"Yup, it's me," he whispers, answering your question as he walks up to the bed casually, getting in. "Scoot over." He almost scolds you for not already doing that, as he finds you laying right in the middle.

You give him more space, frown adoring your face which he fails to see because of the darkness. The little bit of lightning comes from the moon through the blinds, but it's nothing. All you can see are shadows.

"What are you doing?" you ask, confusion laced in your voice as he hums comfortably as he's trying to make himself comfortable. He even tugs onto the blanket you're using, exposing the side of your leg as you tsk at him.

"What does it look like? I'm sleeping here." he answers nonchalantly, still trying to find the right position as the whole mattress wiggles and even the bed frame slightly creaks underneath both of your weights.

"Your mom is going to kill you if she finds out." you inform him but all he does is scoff.

"I'm not going to sleep on that uncomfortable couch when I've got my own bed here," he deadpans, causing you to frown again as you shrug. "Besides, I'll wake up earlier and go back before she can notice."

"You're taking my blanket." you scold him, trying to tug it back but he holds onto it tightly as you hear him scoff.

"This is my bedroom." he points out, causing you to let out a chuckle before you quickly tug the blanket back. Since he wasn't prepared for that, you've done it successfully but not until he pulls it back. Fuck his strength and muscles.

"Oh my god, what are you, ten?"

"No," he answers, "But I love comfort and even my own mother won't take that from me. Besides, she did it just because we're friends and she thinks it'd be inappropriate for us to sleep in the same bed."

"It is inappropriate." you point out. Not necessarily that it makes you feel uncomfortable, because it doesn't. But in general, you know where his mother is coming from and you're not blaming her for wanting her son to sleep elsewhere.

"Hmm, maybe," Jungkook hums, "But she doesn't know we slept in the same bed too many times and did way worse things in it."

Your eyes bulge out at his deep voice and words, causing you to hide your face underneath the blanket for a second before you catch a breath. "Shut up," you scold him, "Just shut up. Let's sleep."

You hear him trying to hold his laughter at your frustration and he's sure that if he turned on the nightstand lamp, your cheeks would be red. It's funny how easily frustrated you can get, especially about something that you've done shamelessly. More than once.

"I'm good with that." Jungkook hums, smacking his lips a few times as he plops himself on the side, facing you.

You laying on your back, you mentally groan at your best friend before you turn to him with your back, wanting to cover more of yourself with the blanket. But your amazing best friend is holding it for a dear life. God, he could've at least got his own blanket.

"I'm not fully covered," you inform him, filling the silence once again. But Jungkook just plainly ignores you and you're met with silence that makes you sigh in frustration. "Jungkook, you know I can't sleep with just a tiny piece of blanket."

You love to wrap your legs around the blanket, sometimes use it as your pillow too. Not the whole blanket though, just a small piece enough to plop underneath your head, so you can press your cheek against it.

"Then scoot closer," he says lightly, too innocently. Suspiciously innocently. "I don't bite." he adds and you can hear the amusement in his voice as he tries to say it deeply, teasing you.

You groan, wanting to throw a tantrum because he's being a teasing shit. Although, there's a small side of you wanting to laugh at that.

"But no funny business." you warn him, scooting closer just enough for the blanket to cover your body fully.

You can feel the warmth radiating from Jungkook's body, too comfortable warmth.

"I'm not even going to touch you," he mumbles, too tired to pay full attention to you. "Now shut up and sleep."

You roll your eyes, stubbornly tugging onto the blanket some more but Jungkook's strong arms are already holding it. You're ready to scold him but something about his soft and slow breathing stops you. There's no point in bickering in the middle of the night.

So you close your eyes, now not only the quietness but also Jungkook's soft puffs of breaths that leave his mouth lullabies you to sleep.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook fanfic #personasintro

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minkdelovely · 1 month

Text

love and power

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chapter six

“the more that you give away the more that you have.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: diet codependency (doesn’t quench the thirst), mentions: blood play; biting, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: don’t get too excited over the tags lol but we’re kicking things into gear cherished ones. i’m unsure how many chapters are left but i’d like to aim for ten (total; i’m low-key flying by the seat of my pants) but fire is starting to catch as we close in on our journey. thank you for sticking with me on this, i hope it’s been as fun for you as it has been for me and that my gratitude is properly conveyed in this chapter ❤️‍🔥

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine

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Watching Alastor leave the hotel without you felt… strange. When he passed through the door you half expected to feel that invisible tugging at your neck, beckoning you to follow, but it never came. Leaving you unsure how to deal with the level of disappointment you felt at its absence. All you hoped was that he couldn’t see it in your eyes when he turned to give you a final smile before walking down the entrance stairs.

It had turned out to be quite the morning, just not in the way you had expected. Alastor told you about how your afternoons were to be spent over his breakfast, not the least bit apologetic for springing it on you at the last minute in spite of knowing since yesterday. A couple things clicked into place with this knowledge, like your conversation at the cafe. Just as you had suspected, what you had ended up talking about had nothing to do with the important things he had sat you down for.

That’s what he meant when he said he had a busy morning, you thought as you watched him pick at his food, looking less and less like the wraith you had seen the night before. You had used the phrase duality of man as a joke in your mortal life, but Alastor set quite a bar for it. Despite the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you really had managed to learn a lot about him. A goal of yours that seemed to be… shifting.

What had been born from a place of survival was now skirting the lines of fascination. A discomfort settled in you as you realized this, knowing that you were drifting into dangerous territory. Developing a fascination — you couldn’t admit to another word yet — with Alastor wasn’t smart for a lot of reasons. He owned you, for starters. Not that you’d have ever been on even ground with someone of his status, but knowing you were literally at his beck and call… It was hard grappling with that.

Your grandmother had been such a terror, the expectations she had of you impossible to obtain. Whether she blamed you for your mother’s death or if she would have treated you the way she did regardless was something you’d never know. But you thought you were done being pushed around and forced into boxes you didn’t fit when you went through with your plan to murder her. Turned a new leaf, as they say.

Yet here you were, with not even a little bit of resentment towards your keeper. He annoyed you with his antics, sure, but you found yourself to be more fond of him than you had expected to be. Hell, you even took extra care making his bed every day despite knowing he didn’t sleep in it — it would’ve done no good to have him catching on that you knew he was just messing up the sheets. You were surprisingly reluctant to put his bed back in order this morning, wanting to preserve its state for as long as you could, burning the image of it to your memory. Even though they were still relatively neat, the slept-in sheets were a peek behind the curtain; another facet of him for you to collect.

The seemingly ever-present lump in your throat creeped up again, sending a tingling jolt through your body at this thought. Fondness, fascination. It had been a very long time since you had attached words like these to someone, and even then it wasn’t something you felt very often applied to anything past friendship. What little friends you had, anyway, preferring a small circle over a plethora.

You had experienced some romance in your life, but nothing longstanding. Flings might be a better word, comprised mostly of the usual dinner and a movie followed by some backseat fumbling. Living with your grandmother didn’t exactly present the option of bringing someone back to your room. And it was fun while it lasted but the payoff had never felt worth it in the end. You were more grateful for the distraction it provided from home than anything else. A lot of the time it just felt like another personality to juggle that you simply hadn’t the energy for.

But was this really something you were beginning to feel towards the Radio Demon? Or were you merely clinging to the twisted sense of stability he represented? Wanting to struggle against him to maintain as much autonomy as you could, or surrender?

The memory of how Alastor had held your face in his hand surfaced then. How his eyes had been heavy with a desire you couldn’t pinpoint, the way your skin burned under the pad of his thumb. How, somewhere under the fear and exhaustion, you had been thrilled watching him taste the blood off your face. Your chest was tight again, breath shallow as your fingertips ghosted over that spot on your cheek.

Fuck.

You wanted to rip your hair out, the desire to run after him growing stronger with every step you saw him taking towards the city battling against your own self-worth. You wouldn’t go after him of course, not only because it would be pathetic but you knew he would be disappointed and quite possibly repulsed if you did. Neither were things you wished to be associated with in his opinion of you or yourself. Though in this moment, all you could feel in regard to yourself was disgrace.

If someone had told you any of this a week ago, you would’ve balked at the idea. Actually wanting to please and follow Alastor around like a well-trained dog? Until quite recently you had looked forward to any time you could finally spend alone, but here you were, apparently counting the seconds until he returned home.

Get a fucking grip, you scolded yourself, inhaling deeply through your nose as you forced yourself to make your way back upstairs to change clothes.

Group activities would be starting in an hour, and it wouldn’t do any good to be fretting over whatever Alastor was up to. Above your pay grade, remember? Remembering what a snide bitch he could be soothed you, the irritation you felt towards his words from earlier reassuring. Though your meaning couldn’t be more different from his, you wanted to believe that you weren’t totally hopeless. The erratic heartbeat under your ribcage begged to differ.

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Alastor never imagined that he’d be sick of heading to Cannibal Town, but there was a first time for everything. It was a novelty he might have actually appreciated under different circumstances. Valentino aside, his days were beginning to feel a bit too repetitive for his liking. Perhaps this meeting could end up being a blessing in disguise, a way for him to defuse some of the restlessness he was feeling.

He had to admit, your absence was… noticeable. Not that you could ever take its place, but having the option to take your arm had been a nice substitute for his microphone when his hand was feeling empty. As if to taunt him, his fist clenched with a nervous twitch, reminding him there was nothing to do with it other than keep it behind his back. Irksome.

The way you lingered around him before his departure hadn’t gone unnoticed, either, something he was unsure you wanted him to know or not. Though there was nothing you could really hide from him, not anymore. Alastor was now very in tune with the way your scent changed based on how you were feeling. It had been particularly strong and floral today, to the point where it still burned his nostrils with a pleasant ache. A keepsake, of sorts. How generous.

Even without that, it was obvious you had wanted to join him on this excursion. There was a sincerity in your ever-pouty face that was actually quite endearing. Still not a fan of frowns, Alastor was beginning to understand that it was your mask, intentional or otherwise, just as the smile was his. His original goal to strip it from you would probably never come to fruition with this revelation and he sighed, though not from disappointment. It was nice to be kept on one’s toes, after all, and he had already made the decision to find new ways to provoke you.

That’s not to say that he didn’t still wish to see what was hiding underneath that gray cloud you took shelter under. The few breakthroughs he’d glimpsed so far had been delightful. Getting you to murder someone wouldn’t work… though that wasn’t off the table. He’d just prefer you to want it; force wasn’t a measure he was willing to take in that regard, there was no satisfaction to be found in it that way. And so by extension, was getting you to indulge in a new eating habit. He hadn’t given up on that, either; he wasn’t lying when he said he thought you’d enjoy it under the right circumstance.

Something came to mind and passed as quickly as it appeared, shocking him despite coming from some recess of his own imagination. The taste of blood was on his tongue from where he bit the inside of his own lip, and he relished the coppery tang, delight coating him thick as honey as he tentatively explored the thought. His ears twitched low as his horns grew just the smallest bit and he cleared his throat to calm down. Alastor wasn’t one to just lose his composure on the sidewalk.

Perhaps, he thought to himself, though with some hesitance. Alastor was always taken by surprise whenever his mind conjured up anything he considered to be salacious. But this sudden inspiration fell under same qualifications as his previous idea, if not under an even stricter sense. That was something you definitively needed to want, being it was something he very, very rarely desired to give.

And what was it about you that made him want to? Clearly, some small part of him did. Had it just been too long and you happened to be an option now that this feeling was rearing its ugly head again? No. Alastor was too… picky to just choose someone out of convenience. He was unashamed to admit he had standards when it came to this. In fact, he felt the real issue at hand was that too many sinners didn’t, fucking anything that breathed with abandon.

His pulse jumped at the word: fucking. Was that even what he wanted? It would be enough just to have you taste him, bite into the flesh of his wrist and lap away at the blood that eagerly pooled to the surface. If you earned it, of course. As mentioned, his body wasn’t something he offered up on a whim to just anyone. But the thought of you enjoying it, unraveling at the feeling he hoped to inspire in you, your sullen face relaxed in the throes of pleasure in the taboo. His mind was racing now, running away with the fantasy as it so often did in these uncommon moments.

What sounds could he illicit from you? He nearly bit through his tongue, thinking on the satisfaction it would bring to hear your voice, normally tinged with some level of sass, pleading and heady in his ears. How would you taste in his mouth — clean and tart, rich and sweet? What would you smell like, blooming under the touch of his mouth and hands?

It wasn’t prudent of him to get swept up in this daydream, knowing the caveat to any of it being your willingness to partake. And he’d sooner face Adam’s axe again than ask, at least not without the inclination of acquiescence, which at this point was unknown to him. Uncharted waters.

Alastor hadn’t noticed that there was a sizable diameter of empty space between him and any other demon who happened to be walking by; rightfully threatened by the hungry look in his eyes, the tautness of his fanged smile, and the static that was crackling in the air around him as he approached the dry cleaners.

Thankfully he still had a bit of time to kill before Valentino arrived, needing every second he could get to center himself before their meeting. Were it not for his gloves, his clawed fingers would’ve easily punctured the soft skin of his palms, he was so wound up. But it was invigorating, this little idea of his, already feeling the ache ebb away as he shelved it for safe keeping. Only time would tell when he could dust it off.

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The afternoon had actually been… fun.

It had been a long time since you had experienced that, feeling a little ridiculous now as you lounged on your bed, thinking back on how nervous you had been to be roped into the daily activity with everyone. Charlie had obviously lead the charge, but the whole group had made you feel very welcome. Niffty had even sat next to you the entire time, her approval something you were unaware you were even wanting but now grateful to have. She was actually really charming.

Since it was your first time, it was mostly story-telling and introductions for your sake. It was clear they were a tight-knit bunch, and you found yourself hoping to find a place in their little circle. That seemed to be your theme for the day; seeing where you stand, fitting in. But it felt nice to open up, divulging bits and pieces of yourself to your housemates. You hadn’t realized how much you missed being part of a group, gossiping and sharing anecdotes.

You told them about the accounting job you had, well-paying but boring all the same, which you didn’t think you minded at the time. Looking back, it really was just for a paycheck. There was no passion in your heart for it, and it was downright mayhem during tax season. Vaggie joked that she would be keeping this in mind when the need arose for bookkeeping, with you quipping back about cruel and unusual punishment.

A knock at the door interrupted your reverie, and you got up to answer it, opening your door to Alastor’s smiling face. The brief moment of butterflies you felt faded when you noticed the tired look in his eyes. You weren’t sure what mood you were expecting him to come back in, but you knew he had something on his mind. Beyond fetching you to perform chores — which he rarely did anyway, preferring that you came to him — what else would he stop by your room for than to deliver some kind of news?

He swept over you, no doubt picking your outfit apart all the way down to your bare feet. You were well aware that the cardigan and slip dress didn’t exactly fit into his definition of put together. Frankly, you were surprised Alastor didn’t force you to wear a corset under your uniform, a complaint you wisely kept to yourself for fear of giving him ideas. But for this, you couldn’t bring yourself to care, relishing the sparse opportunities you had to be in your own comfortable clothes; the v-shaped neckline of the dress allowing your poor décolletage to get some much-needed air. Besides, what could he really say? You were technically off the clock.

“May I come in?” he asked with a jarring sobriety, the absence of his radio filter giving you a chill. This wouldn’t be like the tête-à-tête you had this morning on the balcony.

You simply moved out of the way, giving him the space to enter your room before closing the door behind you, keeping your attention on him as he stood with his back to you. Alastor’s shoulders moved as he took a breath, his expression concealed as his head fell back, looking to the ceiling as he exhaled.

He maintained this position as he spoke. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you, Sylvie. It won’t be dangerous, but it won’t be pleasant, either.”

There it was again, the illusion of choice. Why did he keep presenting things to you this way when he didn’t need to? Not that it upset you, it was a polite gesture after all, but well… He beckoned, you came running. Was it smart to be so willing to do his bidding? No. But after Angel talked a little about the way Valentino treats him — which he seemed to handle with a bravery you could only hope to have a portion of — you knew there was a level of safety that came with belonging to Alastor. Certain lines he simply wouldn’t cross out of duty to himself, resulting in a strange benevolence for you.

“What is it?” You were surprised at the calm in your voice.

Alastor seemed to be too, his ear flicking at the sound before finally turning to look at you. The soft expression on his face sent blood rushing to your cheeks. You could almost mistake it for pride. Toward you. A burden you weren’t prepared to handle, apparently. A small sigh escaped him as he closed the gap between you and he absently picked at the shoulder of your cardigan, pinching the soft fabric in his fingers as he worked through what he was going to say next. For your part, you just tried to keep your breathing even and your hands to yourself.

He released you, smirking without his usual venom but still with that strained look in his eye. The fraction of instinct you had that still worked told you that this wasn’t good, but you had a hard time letting that sink in the way it should, too distracted by the charge in the air between you.

“I met with Valentino today,” he said quietly, giving you a small, knowing smile as your brows knit together in concern. “He wants to meet you, in two days. As of right now that’s all it is but he’s reserved the right to make a final decision on what he wants once he speaks with you,” he practically choked on the words, anger nipping at the edge of his voice as he continued, “And there were certain… concessions that had to be made, given the circumstances. Proud as I am at what you did, I can also appreciate certain aspects of Valentino wanting reparation.”

You felt like a toddler being scolded for acting up in front of company, unable to stop yourself from looking away from him, embarrassment blending into your fear. He wasn’t wrong though, and you always had a feeling you would need to make up for what you did to Donny somehow. Meeting with Valentino was the least you could do, guilt already eating away at you for the position you had put Alastor in. No wonder he had been so upset last night…

“Will you be with me, at least?”

The question was out before you could stop it, the blush on your cheeks threatening to melt your face it was so hot with shame. Alastor huffed a laugh, the mischief returning to his eyes in a way that made you feel dizzy.

“I’m afraid I don’t elaborate on stupid questions.”

Maybe it was the low timbre of his voice, or the familiarity of his smug grin when he knew he had denied you something. But the irritation you typically felt when he spoke to you this way was nowhere to be found, your brain practically empty with the exception of one thing.

I’m so… fucked.

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tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #slow burn #alastor slow burn #song fic #if i can't have love i want power #love and power #x reader #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn #alastor x reader slow burn

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