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#as for the dedications this is just a small way for me to say thank you to you both for your support on my gifsets
welcometoteyvat · 1 year
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chongyun brainrot hours
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horrorartsworld · 2 months
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cozy as a kitten
alastor/f!reader
warnings: there are none straight up fluff with a little bit of mild teasing c:
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You’ve had a long and painstakingly hard day at the hotel.
Every time you thought you could catch a break and sit down someone or something was needing you to do just about everything.
Charlie and Vaggie needed your help for the days activity.
Angel needed your opinion on his new porn shoot.
Sir pentious blew a hole in the side of the hotel with a new invention that you had to confiscate.
Husk well he’s Husk…
Niffty got stuck in a toilet.
At this point you needed just somewhere to slip away for a while and it seemed you knew just the place.
As you ascended the stairs of his broadcasting tower..
Alastor was on the air, so you quietly watched him from the sidelines while he worked. Smiling softly to yourself as you could tell this was truly something the radio demon enjoyed doing (besides causing torment to those who wronged him) and saw how much dedication he put into it.
He finally notices you as he wraps up his last couple words and then signed off turning to you in his chair with that signature grin.
“Hi my dear! Are you feeling alright?~” Alastor taking in your wearisome expression.
“Yeah Al i’m fine…just been a long day and need to get off my feet.” You give him a soft smile as you then rub your eyes tiredly.
He looks around the room seeing as there were no other seats in the room besides his own.
Alastor then puts aside his mic letting it lean against his desk, dusting of his thighs as he pats his hand on his lap.
“Come here” His voice surprisingly soft and inviting which caught you off guard.
“Alastor you don’t have to-“
“I insist~” He cuts you off before you could even protest patting his thigh more demandingly now making you blush.
You walk your way over to him settling yourself on his lap though you sat stiff as a board making him chuckle.
“You can relax now sweetheart, i don’t bite..much~”
Your body went rigged as he said this, shoving your face in his chest to hide your now red face.
“HAHA can’t take the heat..” He teasingly whispered in your ear as the static in his voice was practically humming.
Then an uneasy feeling passes through you as you then hear his tentacles admit from the floor coming up to wrap around you, making your head poke up for a moment as they then stopped once wrapped around you almost like a blanket.
Feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside from the comfort it was bringing to you.
Alastor then runs his hand gently along your hair stroking it as you rested your head on his chest once more feeling your eyes getting more droopy.
“A-alastor~” Your voice tiresome as you attempt to fight the sleep over taking you.
“Shhhhh darling, just rest, you deserve it~” He shushes you softly and could swear you felt a small kiss being placed on your forehead before the slumber completely overtaken you.
꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷
I JUST WANNA SAY THANK YALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE ON MY FIRST LIL FIC “hell’s little maid”!! i honestly was so iffy on it and felt that my writing was crap to be proven completely wrong 😭 which has now just made me want to write tons more so TY! TY! TY! ᰔᩚ
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ahundredtimesover · 2 months
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I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK
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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
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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
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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!
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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. 
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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.
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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. 
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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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aethelwyneleigh27 · 6 months
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Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post
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Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.
The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.
AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"
Apologies if this is a bit too short but;
ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ
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A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.
This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)
Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.
Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3
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He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life
So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.
Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.
The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.
The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.
Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.
You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.
He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.
He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.
Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.
Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.
Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.
You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...
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valeskafics · 5 months
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"Speechless" - Jafar!Aemond Targaryen x Jasmine!Reader
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a/n: dedicating this to the jafar girlies, @the-wonderland-madnesss @the-common-cowgirl @hoosbandewan. janear, jafar, jawherever you are, i love you hoes 🩷 request from @the-shadow-queen02
Summary: Prince Aemond Targaryen comes to Sunspear as an envoy from King's Landing, an advisor to your father, King Qoren. He soon begins to make plans for how to charm his way onto the throne of Dorne - and into your bed.
TW: extremely dubious consent, dark/possessive/yandere behavior, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, ye olde bondage, choking, overstim, oral f receiving, fingering, p in v sex, breeding kink, tiddy succin
Word Count: 3,500 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
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When you learn that none other than the second son of King Viserys is being sent to Sunspear to serve as an advisor to your father, you cannot help but feel suspicious. Your country may be small, but your people value their independence above all else. This seems like a thinly veiled ruse to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms, something your father does not seem to understand.
As his heir, it is you that is sent to greet Prince Aemond upon his arrival. You watch as he circles the skies atop Vhagar before landing at the newly commissioned dragonpit. You roll your eyes, thinking to yourself what a waste of coin it was to have that built when you have every intention of getting rid of this man as quickly as possible.
He strides over toward you, his leather coat billowing behind him, all sharp features and light-colored hair, looking entirely out of place. You smirk to yourself at the thought that he must be uncomfortably warm under the scorching Dornish sun. You greet him with a quick bow of your head, refusing to give him the honor of a full curtsy. What has he done to deserve your respect? He, however, chooses to bow low at the waist, gazing up at you, lips curled into a smirk. Gods, how you despise him already.
“Princess. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Dorne may be the home of the viper, but you have never heard a more serpentine voice than his.
“Prince Aemond. Welcome to Sunspear,” you greet, ignoring his outstretched hand as he approaches you.
You’ll be damned if you let him kiss your hand, or any other part of your body. You despise the way he looks you up and down, as if you are a fine cut of meat rather than a woman. You know that in Dorne, clothes are more revealing than how Westerosi typically dress. He is likely not used to seeing so much exposed skin as you are showing in your saree. But you do your best to ignore his lustful gaze and wait for him to respond.
“Thank you, Princess. It is a great honor to be selected to serve as your father’s advisor. I have long admired King Qoren.”
You barely resist the urge to laugh in his face. An admirer of your father’s, hm? How convenient. This silver-tongued creature will say anything to make people let down their guard around him, you realize. You must be even more careful than you thought necessary. That’s when he speaks again.
“And might I just say, you are just as beautiful as I was led to believe, if not more so.”
Again, you are tempted to laugh in his face, but you keep your expression impassive, leading him toward the castle, “The servants are waiting to show you to your quarters. After you have settled in, they will take you to meet my father. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
He steps closer to you in an attempt to lessen the distance between you, “Please, there is no need to stand on ceremony on my account. Let us be friends, Princess.”
You arch a brow, “I do not know why your father has sent you here, my prince, but rest assured that while my father may believe you have good intentions, I do not. You and I will never be friends.”
As you turn to leave, your entire body tenses when he grabs you by the hand, pulling you back to him so that you stumble against his chest, resting your free hand against him to balance yourself.
“Your father thinks highly of me, Princess, and of my opinion.” Aemond’s voice is cool and measured, but his gaze on you is anything but as he continues, his hand moving along the bare skin of your arm in a way you find far too inappropriate for complete strangers, “You would do well to respect that and recognize my worth instead of being so cold.” The one-eyed prince stares into your eyes, that single blue iris boring into you as he lowers his voice and speaks once more, “I like you, Princess. And I think you will come to like me.”
You narrow your eyes at him, lips pressed together in a firm line as you yank your arm back from him and walk away, feeling his gaze boring into you as you turn the corner.
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As Aemond gets dressed for dinner that evening, in clothes more well-suited to the Dornish climate provided by his hosts, he thinks of nothing but you. You, with your soft, warm skin, your eyes lined with kohl, gazing up at him with nothing but distaste. Your full lips, the curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts, your hair… He has never desired a woman so badly in his life. And he has met his share of beautiful women, being a prince. But none have ever intrigued him the way you do. The way you seem to be so hateful toward him, the way you looked at him. He doesn’t think his cock has ever been harder in his entire life.
And so, he spends the next few months so deeply ingratiating himself into your father’s life that he makes himself irreplaceable. And the more time he spends with your father, the more time you are subsequently forced to spend with him as the heir to the throne. You stoke a fire inside him every time he sees you, his mouth nearly watering at the revealing attire you wear.
He knows that your father has given you the freedom to choose your own groom, so long as you manage to do so within the next three moons, before your one and twentieth nameday. Ser Ulrick Dayne appears to be a favorite for your hand, and Aemond knows something must be done about him.
After he has taken care of his rival for your affections, he finds you sitting and playing with your younger sisters, Aliandra and Coryanne, your infant brother Qyle in your arms. The sight makes him think that you would make a wonderful mother to his own children, after he manages to get you into his bed of course. You chide your siblings playfully, a radiant smile on your face as you coo and fuss over Qyle. Aemond approaches you, a look of faux solemnity on his face. The moment you see him, your expression sours and you greet him coldly.
“Your Grace,” you say stiffly, holding Qyle on your hip, “Might I ask why you are here?”
“I come bearing quite unfortunate news, my princess,” he says in his most sympathetic voice, “Your suitor, Ser Ulrick, has been dismissed.”
Your eyes go wide with surprise before narrowing in anger as you glare up at him, “On what grounds?”
“Theft, dear lady,” Aemond sighs dramatically, “We found him in the treasury, filling his pockets with the throne’s coffers. Such a shame, and you were so very close to finalizing the betrothal as well.”
“Ulrick would not steal,” you say angrily, setting Qyle back into his cradle and storming toward Aemond, fire in your eyes as you declare, “The Daynes are one of the wealthiest families in the country. He has no need of our coin.”
“Oh, but he has already been sentenced to banishment, per your father’s instruction,” Aemond’s hand moves to your bare waist, feeling how smooth and warm your skin is against his palm, smirking to yourself as you try to slide out of his grip, “I am afraid you won’t be seeing Ser Ulrick again, sweet princess. And that leaves you quite without a suitor.”
Your lips curl back into a sneer that he finds rather attractive as you reply bitingly, “And let me guess, you have convinced my poor, stupid father that you are the best man for the job.”
“Indeed,” he smirks, his thumb caressing your hip, “Your father has decreed that you are to marry me. We will be quite happy together, my princess. I know I will make an excellent King Consort and advisor to you when you take the throne.” He leans in, inhaling the scent of your hair, a sweet smell of jasmine, “And I know you will bear me many strong children.”
“Ha! You must be delusional if you believe I will let you touch me, you snake,” you hiss, shoving him away, “Mark my words, I will convince my father of the error of his ways and this ill-begotten match will be canceled.”
Aemond watches with no little amount of amusement as you storm off, listening from outside the throne room as your father tells you that you have no choice and are to marry his most trusted advisor. That you wasted time in your dalliance with Ser Ulrick and this is the consequence of your actions.
Things could not be going better for Prince Aemond.
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On the eve of your wedding, Aemond takes it upon himself to spy on you in the royal baths. He stares as you remove your clothes, setting them to the side before stepping into the hot water, the steam slightly obscuring your visage. Aemond thinks to himself how lucky he is to have found such a handsome bride. He can almost feel the soft curves of your breasts and thighs under his palms. It takes every bit of self restraint he possesses to refrain from joining you in the bath, his hand working his cock as you turn around, exposing your bare breasts to him, so soft and round and full.
One of your maidservants washes your hair as you cleanse your body with your jasmine and lavender oils, the intoxicating aroma making him want you all the more. Soon, he thinks with no little amount of glee, it will be him washing your body, rinsing your hair, your back pressed flush against his front. He will fuck you in the royal baths at least once a day, he thinks to himself. He never thought of himself as one for depravity like his dear older brother, but you seem to bring out the beast in him. All he can think about is how your lips must taste, how he’ll feel buried inside your cunt, how you’ll squeeze around him so perfectly tight as he gives you his seed. How your belly will swell with his babe, and as soon as you have given birth, he will fuck you full of another one, your round stomach serving as a reminder to all at court that you belong to him and him alone. That he is the one who gets to bed and breed you every night. He knows the noises you make as he pleasures you will be intoxicating, in that sweet yet venomous voice of yours.
Aemond spills himself in his hand with a low moan of your name, watching as your head snaps up, looking for the source of the sound. He chuckles to himself, stepping back into the shadows, leaving you to your thoughts, and thinking of his plan to come to your chambers after your bath. He has no intention of waiting until the bedding ceremony tomorrow, not after seeing you in such a state. He must have you tonight, have you screaming his name as he pounds into you and fucks you full of his spend.
After all, your body is his right as your husband.
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When he opens the door to your chambers, Aemond is not surprised to find you with a knapsack in hand, your bed sheets tied together in a makeshift rope as you try to run away the night before your impending nuptials. He clicks his tongue, causing you to turn and meet his gaze, freezing in place. He chuckles to himself as he walks toward you with all the grace of an apex predator, about to corner its prey. His smile is too sharp to be considered kind or genuine, the look in his eye hungry, like a dragon ready to devour a lamb. He backs you up against the wall of your chambers, body pressed against yours, his hands moving to rest on the bare skin of your waist. Your choice of clothing is laughable for an escape attempt, he thinks, as he eyes the red salwar pants and the red bedlah top you wear, emphasizing your full breasts, baring your midriff to him. He licks his lips before speaking.
“My little snake, where do you think you’re slithering off to, so late at night? And on the eve of our wedding?”
He is taken by surprise when you look up at him through your lashes, a coy little smile playing on your lips as you purr so very seductively, “Oh, Prince Aemond… I never realized how very handsome you are…”
Aemond chuckles, gazing into your eyes intensely as your fingertips graze his cheek before playing with his hair, your sweet breath feeling so perfect against his neck, “Oh? I am glad you are finally able to see my charms, kelītsos.” (kitten)
You give a little giggle at the nickname, nuzzling up against him. Aemond feels his cock twitch in his pants, falling completely under your spell as his hands move to hold you in place. He grinds his hips against yours, letting out a low, shuddering moan as he sits on your bed, pulling you onto his lap. You continue caressing his face, driving him nearly mad with want.
“I do love your scar, my prince,” you coo, “It’s so very attractive in such a primal way. You make me burn with desire for you, Your Grace. My future husband.”
Aemond lets out a groan, pulling you in by the thighs, kissing your chest above the fabric of your blouse, burying his face between your breasts. He feels your fingers tracing his scar, twirling around his eyepatch as you continue whispering sweet nothings, your scent absolutely intoxicating. His hands move to the flesh of your ass, squeezing it, letting out a low moan as you press your lips to his, so soft and sweet and perfect.
And that’s when he feels it. His own blade, held against his throat. He can’t help but chuckle at the irony as you glare at him.
“Don’t fucking move,” you hiss.
Aemond stares at you, his eye still blown wide with want as he grabs your wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of it, his tongue tracing over your pulse point in a way that makes your stomach squirm. You let out a cry of surprise as he squeezes your wrist, making you drop the dagger, before pressing you down onto the bed, his body covering yours, pinning your wrists above your head. He grabs one of the makeshift ropes you had created for your escape, and in another cruel twist of fate, he uses the cloth that was supposed to take you to your freedom to tie your wrists to the bed. You tug at your restraints, glaring up at him angrily.
“Oh, kelītsos, I am going to have such fun breaking you. Bending you to my will. You are mine, you know. And in the end, I’ll have you begging for my touch, my sweet little snake.” You spit in his face, though it only serves to excite him all the more, judging by the little smirk he gives you, “Oh, I do love your fire, little one.”
You wince as you feel his hands on the bare skin of your stomach, his lips soon replacing them as he kisses your sensitive flesh. His teeth graze against you before you feel his tongue teasing at your navel. You twist your body in protest, or rather in pleasure as you feel cunt begin to grow wet with want. You hate this man, you despise him with every fiber of your being, and yet none of your previous lovers have managed to make you feel like this. His breath is hot against your skin as he removes your pants, his eye widening in delight when he realizes your outfit does not allow for smallclothes beneath it. He eyes your slick folds with no small degree of hunger, nipping at your thigh before beginning to lap at your cunt. You try to squirm away from him, but he spreads your thighs open, holding them apart as he feasts on you, letting out the most lewd and obscene noises as he does. He alternates between suckling at your pearl and rubbing it with his thumb, fucking you with his tongue and with his fingers.
You feel entirely overwhelmed as you reach your peak, your body shaking, but he has no intention of stopping. You let out a strangled noise of protest as he rubs his nose against your pearl and begins his efforts anew. He flattens his tongue against your sensitive nub, three fingers buried knuckle-deep inside you, moving in and out at an impossibly fast pace. He feels you tighten around him when he brushes against that spot deep inside of you, and instead focuses his attention there, curving his fingers, rubbing over and over, reveling in the sound of your pathetic mewls of his name as you reach your peak at his hands once more.
You stare up at him as he removes his tunic and breeches, revealing his sinewy muscles, his pale skin, and finally, his long cock, swaying slightly, his arousal already dripping from the tip. You feel your entire body tense with anticipation. You’ve never had a partner quite as big as him and you lick your lips, feeling excitement at the idea of him fucking you. Aemond chuckles, giving himself a few quick strokes before lining himself up along your cunt.
“Beg for my cock.”
You stare at him in surprise, “What? No. Absolutely not.”
“No?” Aemond mocks, slapping the fat head of his length against your pearl, watching your entire body tremble. He does it again before repeating his demand, “Beg for my cock, kelītsos.”
You swallow your pride, feeling him running the tip along your core, whispering out, “Please fuck me.”
“‘Please fuck me, husband.’”
You roll your eyes and repeat yourself, “Please fuck me, husba-”
You cut yourself off with a loud moan of his name, feeling Aemond sheathe himself inside you to the hilt with one fluid thrust. He fills you up perfectly, and you can feel every vein, every ridge. Aemond, for his part, thinks that your cunt feels just as perfect as he fantasized as he begins rutting against you. He rips open your blouse, admiring the bounce of your breasts as he fucks you, taking one of your pert nipples between his lips, suckling at it while his palm caresses your neglected breast. And with your hands still tied, you’re helpless to do anything but sit there and take this onslaught of pleasure.
“Aemond,” you moan, “Harder.”
He is all too happy to oblige, increasing his pace, his hand flying to your throat, fingers wrapped around your neck as he squeezes ever so slightly. You feel the fat head of his cock brushing against your sweet spot as he continues fucking you.
“Going to spill my seed in that pretty little cunt,” he rasps against you, “Watch you grow fat with my babe and fuck another one into you after that. Everyone will know you’re mine. Your body is mine. Your cunt is mine. You are mine.”
You can do nothing but squeal his name and babble incoherently as he continues fucking you, squeezing your throat once more as he feels you reach your peak around him, squeezing him impossibly tight. He pushes your knees up to your chest, allowing him to fuck you at a deeper angle, feeling the way you tremble around him as you beg him to slow down, though the bucking of your hips says the exact opposite. Aemond chuckles and continues, admiring the way he can see the outline of his cock against your lower stomach as it slides in and out of you. He presses down on it ever so slightly, delighting in the squeal of his name you let out, his stones tightening as he gets closer and closer to his peak, fucking you faster and faster until he spills himself inside of you, circling your swollen pearl with his thumb until you cry out and reach your peak once more.
You two stare at each other for a long moment, Aemond still laying atop you as he murmurs, “Do not think I am finished with you for the night, sweet little wife. I am going to breed you until the morning comes. By our wedding night, I will be sure that you are with child.” He chuckles at your wide-eyed expression, “I have rendered you speechless, I see. A fine quality in a wife.”
You scowl at his words only to moan when he enters you once again, losing yourself in your pleasure.
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prythianpages · 26 days
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When I Kissed the Teacher | Azriel
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Summary: After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.
Warning: reader thirsting for Az and fluff for my batboy ♥
A/N: @daycourtofficial suggested this song and idea! Though I did a poll and Az won, I couldn't help myself and also write a version for Cas (you can read it here) as a huge thank you for following and reading my stuff. I just reached 1K followers ♥
This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (:
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The first moment you saw Azriel, you were instantly drawn to him. 
His sun kissed skin radiated warmth. The hazel depths of his eyes hinted at wisdom earned through ages. His dark hair, a cascade of silken strands, framed a face sculpted to perfection. The Illyrian leathers he wore were a gift from the gods themselves as they only highlighted the well-defined muscles that lay beneath…
And his wings? Gods, those wings of his. They were massive yet delicate and iridescent. The way they always unfurled with such grace had your own wings fluttering in response.
But it wasn’t just the arresting beauty that surpassed all males you’ve encountered that drew you in. It was the impeccable way he carried himself. The mastery he exuded in combat, the patience he had while training you because if you’re going to be honest, you’re sure you pushed him past his limits. Yet, no matter how tough he was on you during training, Azriel was always kind to you outside of training grounds.
It didn’t take you long to fall for him and it didn’t matter how much you unleashed your inner turmoil onto the punching bag. Nothing could shake the strange fluttering sensation in your stomach every time your mind drifted to him. It’s like there were a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
Sweat glistens on your forehead and your eyebrows furrow in concentration, too lost in your thoughts to pay mind to the silent spectator that had arrived minutes ago…until he finally steps out from the shadows and speaks.
“I’d hate to be the one on your mind right now.”
A misplaced punch lands awkwardly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through your hand. “Azriel,” you breathe, your cheeks flushing as you cradle your hand close to your chest. If only he knew…
“Fuck,” Azriel curses, hazel eyes flashing with concern. He swiftly closes the distance between and gently takes your injured hand into his, inspecting it with a small frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You could never scare me.”
Azriel raises an eyebrow, eyes lifting to meet yours. “Is that so?” He replies, a hint of amusement in his voice. “I think I may be going too soft on you then”
“Soft?” You exhale in an incredulous manner, remembering the way your last training session with Azriel had ended. 
He had taunted you and your Illyrian blood had heated at the challenge in his words, allowing him to coax you into combating him. Of course, you were no match for him. You had begun training only a year ago, thanks to Emerie’s invitation. Azriel had centuries on you. Your muscles were still aching from the aftermath.
Azriel chuckles. “Come,” he says, guiding you back into the house. His hand holds onto your wrist lightly, being careful so as not to hurt your injured hand further. “Let’s get you patched up.”
**
As Azriel carefully attends to your hand, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on him. His features are tense with concentration and concern, unbothered by the dark fringe that falls slightly over his eyes. Your uninjured hand is itching to run through those dark strands and brush his hair back for him.
You swear your heart skips a beat when Azriel lifts his gaze, catching your brazen staring. A flush spreads across your cheeks, and you quickly avert your gaze, missing the subtle, self-satisfied smile that graces Azriel's lips.
The sudden intrusion of Nesta breaks the spell, her figure leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, an amused twinkle in her gaze. While you were oblivious to Azriel's reaction, Nesta, caught the soft smile he allowed himself.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Both of you turn your heads to find Nesta. There’s a smirk on her face as her eyes flicker between you and Azriel.
“Uh, no. Not at all,” you stammer, attempting to mask your embarrassment. “Just a little injury, that’s all.”
“Nothing to worry yourself over, Nesta,” Azriel chimes in, lowering his gaze to secure the bandage wrapped around your hand. “All done.”
“Thanks, Azriel.”
Azriel rises to his feet, and the shadows that dance around his shoulders seem to buzz with excitement over the soft way you had said his name. He pats your thigh, suppressing his smile as he stands.
Nesta's smirk transforms into a sly grin, her keen eyes not missing the way Azriel keeps his gaze averted from you to save you from further embarrassment. It doesn’t matter, anyway. His shadows are happy to inform him of the mortified look you send Nesta’s way followed by the way you silently mouth “stop” at her. 
"Well, that’s great news,” Nesta replies, grasping your uninjured hand and pulling you to your feet. “Thank you for taking care of her, Az. Now, if you don’t mind, y/n here is late to girl’s night.”
As Nesta ushers you out, Azriel watches with a mixture of amusement and warmth in his hazel eyes. Unbeknownst to you, the unexpected emotions that had taken residence in your heart were mirrored in Azriel’s.
**
Under the soft glow of fairy lights, you sit cross-legged on the plush rug, facing Nesta while Emerie and Gwyn sit on either side of you. An array of snacks, provided by the sentient house, sits in the middle of the circle you and your friends formed. And of course, it wouldn’t be a girl’s night without the age-old game of truth or dare.
“Your turn,” Emerie grins at you, exchanging a knowing look with the other two females. “Truth or dare?”
Given the mischievous glint in Nesta’s eyes, it was an obvious choice for you. Truth would be the safer option. Emerie’s grin falters, disappointed by your choice.
However, Gwyn sees an opportunity. She wraps her blanket tighter around herself, shifting in her spot eagerly. She leans forward to grab a chocolate covered strawberry before nonchalantly asking: “Do you like Azriel?”
Nesta scoffs, throwing her hands in the air. “Oh, come on. Like we even have to ask.”
“True,” Gwyn giggles. “But I want to hear her say it.”
Heat rises to your cheeks for the third time tonight, creating a persistent warmth that makes you wonder if you might give yourself a fever. Your friends collectively hold their breaths in anticipation. Nesta’s gaze remains fixed on you, unwavering.
“Yes.”
The room erupts into squeals and teasing remarks, and your eyes widen, urging them to hush, terrified that Azriel, who is upstairs, might hear. It’s a futile attempt as their cheers only grow louder, making you bury your face in her hands.
“He likes you too.”
Your peak out from beneath your fingers. “What makes you say that?”
Nesta laughs in response but Emerie and Gywn are quick to tease you even further.  Gywn assumes the role of Azriel while Emerie assumes the role of you as they exchange glances and lingering touches. The two females jump to their feet and wooden swords appear in front of them. You look up with a glare directed at the sentient house.
With a swift flick of her wrist, Gwyn uses her wooden sword to knock Emerie’s out of her hand. “Again,” Gwyn nearly growls as she tries to mimic Azriel’s deep voice.
“I can’t,” Emerie replies, feigning shyness.
“I don’t sound like that!” You cry out in disbelief, turning to Nesta. “I don’t sound like that, right?”
Nesta shrugs her shoulders, eyes sparkling with mirth at the scene before her. Emerie and Gwyn ignore your protests, continuing to pretend to be you and Azriel.
“Oh, Azriel, my love,” Emerie swoons, the back of her hand flying to her forehead while her other hand hangs in the air. “I think I sprained my wrist.”
Gwyn gasps dramatically, diving in to catch Emerie before she could fall back against the fortress of pillows behind her. “No, not my sweet y/n, who I’m absolutely smitten with” Gwyn coos, bringing Emerie’s “injured” hand to her lips and kissing it.
Then, Gwyn and Emerie absolutely lose it, the two females falling onto the fortress of pillows as laughter consumes them, unfazed by the glare you’re now directing to them. Nesta stifles her own laughter, turning her attention back to you.
“He definitely likes you,” she repeats, her words awakening the butterflies in your stomach. You wonder if she can hear them fluttering too. “But he won’t make the first move. You’re going to have to do it yourself.”
“Absolutely not!”
 Nesta grins at you. “We’ll see about that.”
“Whatever,” you huff out. “It’s your turn now. Truth or dare?”
The night wears on, filled with more laughter, more shared secrets, and the occasional embarrassing dare. You got your friends back by daring them to have multiple spoonfuls of ice cream and tomato sauce. The house keeps you well supplied with snacks and your glasses of wine never go empty.
When it’s your turn again, you hesitate for a moment. You had thought “truth” had been the safer option but now, you know there is no safe option.
This time, you decide to be brave.
“Dare.”
"Fucking finally," Emerie grins, looking at Nesta while Gwyn smiles at you. Their plan is unfolding seamlessly...
“We dare you to kiss Azriel tomorrow after training.”
Your eyes widen in panic. “What? No way!”
Nesta, seemingly unfazed, inspects her nails with feigned boredom. "Coward," she mutters under her breath.
Her words, though hushed, ignite something deep within you. Your Illyrian blood stirs, the challenge resonating in your veins. Your eyes narrow, fixing on Nesta. "What did you say?"
Nesta meets your gaze as she repeats herself. Louder, this time. “Coward.”
The room falls into a hushed silence as your friends await your response. You bite your lip, contemplating the audacious dare. It was not in your nature to back down from a challenge.
After what felt like an eternity, you let out a deep exhale.
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
**
You didn’t sleep at all last night but as Azriel circles around you, his eyes holding a glint of challenge, you are wide awake. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta watch from the benches facing the sparring grounds while Cassian watches from a closer distance, keenly assessing your every move. Too caught up in your feelings over Azriel, you had failed to realize that this morning’s training session was an evaluation of the skills you had been working on over the past couple of months.
To say you're nervous was an understatement because not only did you have to prove yourself as the aspiring Valkyrie you’d like to become, you also had to prove to Nesta that you were not a coward. Taking a deep breath, your grip tightens on your sword.
Azriel, with his wings casting shadows on the ground, moves with grace. Each movement is precise and deliberate as your swords meet in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel ringing in the air. Though you struggle, you do your best to keep up and hold your ground, determination burning bright.
Sweat begins to cling to your skin and your envious of the way Azriel hasn’t even broken a sweat himself. With every strike of his and every parry of yours, he continues to push you, his strikes growing harsher and stronger. You literally blink and in that swift second, Azriel knocks your sword out of your grip. A hiss escapes you and you swear your hear Gwyn and Emerie snicker from the sidelines as they find this situation all too familiar.
With a sweep of his leg, you lose your balance and find yourself falling onto one of the training mats. Azriel’s lips twitch upwards as he points his sword toward you. “Do you yield?”
You are weaponless and at his mercy but your stubbornness continues to burn bright. “No.”
In a sudden burst of energy, you land a kick on him, knocking his sword out of his grip just as he did to yours. The bold move leaves him momentarily stunned, his shadows coiling back in surprise. You take full advantage of his distraction, hooking your other leg behind his knees and bringing him down to the mat with you.
Azriel can only blink up at you as you straddle him, eyes widening when he feels a dagger–his dagger–pressed against his throat. How did you–
He’s unable to finish his thought as you shift above him and swallows thickly at the sensation of your body on top of his. The way your breathing is shallow and uneven and the way he can feel the warmth radiating off your body–
“You will.”
Your words have his attention drifting back to you. A radiant smile breaks across your face and his own lips curl upwards, hazel eyes softening as they stare into yours. “I yield,” he murmurs, ever so quietly, you wonder if you imagined it.
Your gaze drifts down to his lips and then back to his eyes. He does the same. And then the next moment, you’re kissing him. Softly and hesitantly, at first, but when Azriel responds, your heart fills with warmth. Your lips move against his with eager urgency.
Truthteller falls from your grasp and you bring your hand to grasp at the back of his neck instead, pulling him even closer. His hands find their place at your waist to keep you in place but then screams and squeals are piercing through the air. You’re immediately pulling away and jumping to your feet, absolutely flustered because in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten all about the audience you had.
You glance down at Azriel, desperately seeking a sign, but his expression is a mix of surprise and confusion. He looks nearly petrified. Your heart races and you begin to wonder if perhaps, you are a coward because all you want to do is run.
Your hand flies to your mouth. Doubts claw at the edges of your courage. What if Nesta was wrong? What if Azriel didn't like you? And you've just made a fool of yourself in front of him–your teacher– and your friends. 
Turning around, your eyes meet with the delightfully entertained audience. Gwyn and Emerie, caught up in the drama, cling to each other with excitement and unrestrained giggles. Nesta stands with the same smirk she gave you the night before though there’s a flicker of surprise in her blue-grey eyes. She hadn't expected you to follow through with the dare.
Meanwhile, Cassian’s gaze is fixed on the body behind you and he throws his head back in laughter. Ignoring the whispers and amused glances from those around you, you hastily make your exit, blind to the way you left Azriel a blushing fool.
Cassian approaches his friend, who remains rooted to his spot on the floor. Azriel is still processing the whirlwind of emotions you've stirred within him. There’s a teasing grin on Cassian’s lips. “Are you okay there, Az? You look a little–”
Azriel snaps out of the trance you've cast upon him to glare up at his friend. “Fuck off.”
He then jumps to his feet, dusting himself off and ignoring the curious glances of the females nearby. Determination fills his eyes as his head turns toward the direction you ran off to. He fears you have misinterpreted his initial shock and he can’t let this moment slip away. 
He needs to feel your soft lips against his again and more importantly, he needs to tell you that he feels the same way.
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a/n: Hope you all enjoyed this one! Cas's version is already up!
tagging: @hellodarling1357, @kennedy-brooke, @scooobies
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endlessthxxghts · 6 months
Text
What You Need
no outbreak!neighbor!joel miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈6.3k
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Summary: You come home from a horribly stressful day at University to everything in your family home a complete mess only for you to take care of. Joel helps you and gives you exactly what you need.
Warnings: SUUUPER self indulgent (sorry guys - it makes for a good plot tho, so i’m not all that sorry <3). no use of “y/n”, age gap (22/42), LATINO JOEL MILLER (idc what anyone says, he needs a warning), established relationship, no physical descriptions of reader, pet names (darlin’, sweet girl, pretty girl, princess, etc.), reader “takes care of everyone but who takes care of her” plot, more porn than plot lol, [SMUT 18+ MDNI] daddy kink, sir kink, heavy on the D/s dynamic (reader falls into subspace), cockwarming, unprotected piv (don’t be like these 2 idiots), breeding kink, cum eating, creampie, finger fucking, finger sucking (briefly), choking, hair pulling, brief thoughts about anal, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, hickeys/marking kink, squirting!, toy use, fluffy ending… i think that’s it?? (dear lord pls forgive me, for i have sinned)  if i missed anything, lmk pls!
Quick lil author’s note (see bottom for extended a/n): In all honesty, I wanna dedicate this (nasty) little one shot to @javierpena-inatacvest because if it wasn’t for our interactions as of late plus reading your “It’s Never Too Late” fic, I never would’ve said fuck it and just start writing with the intention of potentially showing it to the world. Thank you for inspiring me. You’re amazing & I literally love u so so much. You deserve phenomenal head all the love in the world for everything you do <3.
MAIN MASTERLIST || ONESHOT COLLECTION
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It was a long day at university today, as per usual, but something about today completely drained you. 
You went to bed past midnight last night because you were busy finishing up a paper, only to get up at 7am the next morning to spend the next 13 hours juggling between classes, assignments, and studying in your “free” time. By the time you were ready to head back home, you were on your very last thread, begging to snap. You also completely spaced on nourishing your body today, the only thing running through it being water and coffee — lots of coffee. 
That’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that the minute you entered your family home, the entire house was an absolute mess, your pets weren’t given their food yet, and no dinner was made. And just like every other day since you grew into an acceptable height to reach the kitchen stove, you took care of it. All of it. 
You were so grateful to your family for allowing you to stay at home during your undergraduate years. It makes your in-state tuition even cheaper, and you get the comfort of your own bed. You knew not many people could rely on their parents and family like this, so you don’t want to sound selfish when you think about how you really wish you had your own place right about now. 
It’s been an hour and a half since you've been home, and you’re barely finishing up getting the food for your dogs when your phone dings in your back pocket. 
Didn’t text me when you got home, baby. Everything okay?
It was from Joel. The neighbor directly across from you, and a quickly growing family friend of yours. Your heart both saddens at the fact that you forgot your unspoken ritual, but it swells at the way he can read you. 
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It all began at a small family party last year. You were 21 at the time, and for some reason you could not take your eyes off of your neighbor — who was 20 years your senior. It was always just shared glances or you bringing baked goods from your stress-baking endeavors, but at that party, there was a good period of time where your entire family went outside to the bonfire in the backyard to drink until their hearts gave out, leaving you with the dishes and a trashed house to clean. Joel noticed this, how much they relied on you. Whether it was coming over for a beer with your brothers or your father, or to fix an appliance for your older sister, they always walked all over you — when you did absolutely everything for them. So, he took matters into his own hands and went inside to help you clean up. 
You insisted he didn’t need to, but you knew he wouldn’t let up. So, there, you two worked, harmoniously, straightening up your home in half the time it would normally take you by yourself. The second you completed the last task, you reached for the remote and plopped yourself on the couch, half expecting Joel to go back outside with your family. Except, he plopped himself on the couch right next to you with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, “What are we watchin’, darlin’?” 
“You know you could’ve stayed outside with everyone else, Miller,” you say as you turn your body to him with an eyebrow quirked up. He matches your expression, “Well, where’s the fun in that?” 
You break into a breathy little giggle, satisfied with his comeback, and you turn on the TV. With your family completely occupied outside, it was easy for either of you to make a move. And although Joel had been planning to for the last few months before this party, you took matters into your own hands and lifted his arm closest to you, tucked yourself into his side and pulled his arm back around your body. He looked down at you, smirking at your boldness while your eyes remained fixed on the movie before you. 
The next few hours of the night were filled with secret caresses and stolen kisses, and you have never felt more loved and appreciated in your life. From then on, you’ve been absolutely smitten with him, and he with you. 
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Instead of replying, you dial him instead. Not even a third ring goes by before he answers, “Baby.” 
“Oh my god, hi, baby, I’m so sorry. I completely spaced. The minute I got home, the house was a mess, the dogs weren’t fed yet, dinner wasn’t even cooked, and I-”
“Mi amor,” he says with a deep breath, implicitly telling you to take one, “it’s okay, baby. I don’t wanna hear sorry from you. I’m sorry everythin’ is a mess, baby. Can I help? Need me to come over?”
Your rapid heart rate immediately starts to slow at how calming, ready and willing he is to give you anything you need. Your family would go absolutely insane if Joel just showed up right now with the sole intention of helping you take care of the home and yourself, but you don’t mention that. “No, baby, I promise I’m okay. I just need to relax. I need-” you pause for a moment to take another breath because you feel your body going panicky again. “I need…honestly, I just need you.” 
After the shitty day you’ve had today, having to take control of every single thing, honestly all you really want, and need, right now is for your control to be taken away. You don’t want to think, you don’t want to decide, and you don’t even want to figure out your dinner even though you haven’t eaten all day. 
He pauses for a moment, hearing the slight whine at your last statement. And just like that, Joel is at your rescue. “You need me, huh, babygirl?” 
“Mhm, please.” 
“Cross the street, darlin’, right now,” and he hangs up the phone. 
You bolt out of your seat, and sprint straight to the front door, quickly locking it. You think to say something on the Ring camera, letting your family know you’ll be back, but you know they won’t even think twice at your absence. You already cleaned the house and took care of the animals they begged for but don’t care for — why else would they look for you? 
Just in case they do check the cameras, however, you immediately veer to the left side of your driveway into the blind spots of your front door. 
Within seconds, you’re at his door about to knock, but he’s already opening the door, whispering a soft hi followed by your name, and pulling you into a tight embrace. He pulls you away for a second, assessing your face, assessing your needs. He sees your brows pulled together, eyes glossed over, and a pout beginning to form. You don’t need soft and comforting. You need stern, dominating control. You need nothing but pure bliss, and he’s going to give that to you. But first: 
“Safe words. Repeat em’.” 
“Red for hard stop, yellow if I’m starting to get uncomfortable, and green to keep going.” 
“That’s my girl,” he says and finally pulls you in for that rough, all-consuming kiss you’ve been craving. It’s a battle of teeth and tongue, and obviously he wins. His hands are roughly sliding down to the underside of your asscheeks, tightly pulling you into his hardening bulge. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, but pause for a moment because he never gave you permission to. He senses that, and pulls back for just a moment. “Such a good fuckin’ girl for me. Go ‘head, baby, touch me.” 
You immediately bring your arms back up to grab ahold of him but too riled up in how he’s making you feel, you don’t notice the huge grumble your empty tummy makes. He pulls both your wrists back from his neck and puts an insufferable amount of space between you two. 
He says your name, filled with both concern and slight anger. “When was the last time you ate?” 
Silence. 
He lets go of your wrist and grabs your chin between his pointer and thumb, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m not askin’ again, baby.”
“Y-yesterday night,” you stumble out. 
“I’m not givin’ you a heavy meal ‘cause that’ll just upset your stomach, but I am fixin’ you somethin’. Go upstairs, change into the clothes on the bed, come back down and position yourself on the ottoman, like I taught ya last week, hm?”
Too enamored by his roughly smooth voice, all you can muster up is a nod. His eyebrow barely shifts, but that’s all a warning you need. “Yes, sir.” 
Padding up into his room, already feeling your insides start to float, you reach the edge of his bed to see a pair of black cheeky boxers, and a thin, fitted black tee. You quickly strip off everything you arrived here in and slip on the garments he gave you. Wasting no time, you head back down in a bee line to the ottoman. 
Like I taught ya last week, hm?
His words echo in your mind as you begin to recall last week’s endeavors. 
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You were straddling his lap for a while now, slowly swallowing each other’s moans and making every part of each other’s body ingrained into your memories. Until suddenly he pulls back, eyes dead set with intention. “You trust me, baby?”
“Always, Joel,” you say back with as stern a voice as possible, confused as to why he’d ask such a thing. “Can I teach you somethin’, then, darlin’?”
You pull him into one more kiss before you breathily tell him yes and pull yourself off his lap to stand before him, fully at his disposal. 
He stands up, and without any verbal indications, he’s grabbing onto you and molding your body onto the ottoman in a position that begins to drift you off into subspace. You don’t know if it’s the fact that you're sitting on your knees with your legs tucked under you, or if it’s the slow drag of his hands caressing your inner thighs, pulling them farther apart from each other. Or maybe it’s the way he softly places your hands, palms up, atop of your thighs. Whatever the hell it is, you absolutely fucking love it. 
He feels you melting into every little touch he makes and he notes every little moment you slip further and further into your space. “Doin’ okay, my sweet girl?” he asks, voice dark and sweet. 
All you can pull out of yourself is a pathetic little whine and a head nod. 
“This is position number one. Remember it. We’ll learn more later, but this’ll do just fine for a while, baby.”
And with that, he kisses you ever so softly but with such a dominating, addictive energy that you feel yourself try to push up into him, and immediately he pulls away. 
“Sweet girl, Imma let it slide this time, but you do not move from this position unless given permission. Ya hear?”
You return to your original position and assure him how good you’ll be, “Won’t happen again, daddy, I promise.”
His jaw clenches at the honorific; that’s your number one tell that signifies you’ve completely submitted and fallen into subspace. He had originally planned on giving you what you asked for two days ago — “Please, Joel, I need you to fuck me, hard.” — but seeing you all docile and ready for him just makes him want to absolutely praise you in the most beautiful ways possible. 
So that’s what he did. For hours. An hour of bending you over the ottoman to eat your pussy like a man who had all the time in the world, an hour of fingering orgasm after orgasm out of you while his mouth switched between licking and marking your tits, and a few hours after that just slowly fucking you into his mattress, caressing and loving on every single part of your body he could reach. 
Let’s just say, your family didn’t see you for the rest of that day or the next, and you did not care one fucking bit. 
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You shuffle onto the ottoman, your form now perfected after secretly practicing each night to increase your endurance of staying in such a position for however long Joel needed you to. 
You wait for about five more minutes before he comes back with a platter of all of your favorite fruits — strawberries, mangoes, and pineapple — and sits on the cushioned seat right in front of you. He melts at how good you sit for him, immediately disregarding his original plan and wanting you as close to him as possible. 
“My good, beautiful girl,” he says softly, in a way that you’re not sure if it was even meant for you to hear, but you still melt nonetheless. “Come,” he says as he pats his lap while setting the plate off to the table beside him. 
You shoot up like a lightning bolt, too excited at the thought of being able to feel him again, but before you can climb up, he grabs your hips, stopping you for a second. He slides his fingers into the hem of your underwear and slowly slides them completely off of you, setting them neatly on the ottoman behind you. He slowly reaches for his belt, then slides it off, letting it fall somewhere on the ground. You stand completely still, patiently waiting for whatever he’s going to give you, although your pussy is proving anything but patient. 
He undoes the button and zipper of his jeans and signals for you to come up. “Take me out, cariño.”
You climb up on his thighs, not fully straddling him to give yourself some room to tug his jeans and boxers down enough to pull him free. You pull him free with a small moan escaping your lips, wanting to dart your tongue out and lick his angry tip, but he didn’t give his permission for that. So, you begrudgingly let him go, and wait for what comes next. 
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” he states nonchalantly as if his dick isn’t absolutely begging for you to reach out and grab it. “You’re gonna sit on my cock, keep me nice and warm. Without moving. Only until you’ve eaten all the fruit on this plate will I think about what’s gonna happen next. Got it?”
Your voice trembles, “Y-yes, sir.” 
He nods his head, while bringing his hand up to your mouth, signaling for you to let your drool fall. You scoot closer and lift your hips up while he pumps himself a few times to completely cover himself in your spit. With how much your cunt is dripping, you knew his lewd act was for his benefit and his only. 
The second his tip catches at your entrance, you can’t control the high-pitch whine that falls from your mouth, and he can’t stop himself from gripping your hips with a bruising force in an attempt to keep from mercilessly pounding up into you right here. 
“So f-fucking full,” you breath out as you sink lower and lower, to which he nearly growls with a strained, “So fucking tight.”
You finally bottom out, and you both take a moment to breathe and settle any impulsive thoughts of forgetting the purpose of tonight’s scene. You shift a little to adjust to settle your legs more comfortably at his sides, while he leans over to bring your plate of fruit closer. Both your actions together make you hiss in desperation.
“Color, baby?”
“Green, sir, green,” you promise him.
He smiles, genuine and bright, before his face goes dark and smug again. He picks up a piece of pineapple with his fingers. “Open.”
You lean in and take the sweet fruit from his fingers, making sure to lick any residual of the pineapple’s sweet juices. This goes on until you’ve finished every last piece he cut for you. Towards the last few pieces, your pussy was absolutely drenching his cock with your slick, both your thighs and his soaked. He could feel every pulse and every flutter, and no matter how patient he usually was, something in the air tonight was testing every ounce of his strength. 
He sets the plate aside and licks a mix of fruit juices and your spit clean off his fingers. You watch him, completely entranced by the way his tongue wraps around his thick fingers, and you can’t help but feel such an aching need to throw yourself at him. 
So you do. And to your surprise, he allows it. You pull both his arms to wrap around your middle and you push yourself into him for a searing kiss, whimpering for him to slip you his tongue. He indulges, and you immediately begin grinding your hips down onto his cock. He growls and wraps his arms tighter around you, adding more pressure into your grind, forcing you to break the kiss to regain your breath. “Fuck, baby. Such an impatient little one, aren’t ya?” He rasps out. 
Your hips move faster at his words, trying to will yourself to say something, anything, but you can’t. He notices your effort. “It’s okay, I’ve got you, baby, hm?”
And with that — with the notion that he’ll take care of you with anything you need — you completely fall. “Y- yes,” you moan out, “Da- fuck- daddy’s got me.”
Ah, there she is. Daddy’s girl. His back straightens so he’s towering over you more. He grabs your jaw tightly while you continue to pleasure yourself on his dick, forcing you to hold his stare. “Oh, sweet girl, daddy’s always gonna give ya what ya need. Promise, baby. Now be the good little girl I know you are and cum for me.”
You can feel him meet every movement of your hips, coaxing your high out of you faster than you realize. The wet, squelch your pussy makes every time you suck him in is enough to make him release his load, but he won’t. Not until you’ve came more times than ever before, not until you’re left completely fucked dumb. 
He snakes his hand down to the front, reaching for your clit, using his thumb to make mind-numbing, calculated circles. Your back arches at the sensation, head thrown back, and he brings his other free hand to the back of your neck to pull you closer into him. He ravishes your neck all over, sucking and biting all your weak spots, your pulse points, only to run his tongue over it in soothing motions, getting even more worked up at the marks that’ll form tomorrow. Then, he rips your shirt right in half, letting it fall to the ground. So much for makin’ you change, he thinks. He brings his mouth lower and lower, sucking one of your nipples in between his teeth, throwing you over the edge.
Your vision goes white, your entire body goes rigid, and your pussy uncontrollably flutters around his dick as he peppers your neck and chest with more kisses while you come back down. 
Your body is now soft and pliant, fully ready for whatever more Joel is going to give you. Your head is still high up in the clouds, and it will be for a while, but he always knows how to take care of you. You feel him slowly lift you off his dick and you hear him groan as he looks down. 
“God fucking damn, doll, look at you all over me. Such a fuckin’ mess.”
Your face heats up immediately, “I- I’m sorry, daddy, I-”
He grabs your jaw again and pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, all teeth and tongue. He pulls away bringing your bottom lip with him until he lets go, letting it fall back into place, now wet with his spit. “Don’t fuckin’ apologize for that. You made daddy so proud, baby. So much so that you’re gonna do it again for me,” he says as he squeezes your ass cheek. 
You squeak out a gasp and a breathy please. He stands up and makes his way to his bedroom with you still wrapped around him like a koala. 
Immediately he throws you on the bed, and before you’re able to scramble up towards the pillows, he’s already pushing you up by the thighs and kneeling between your spread legs. 
He releases one thigh for a quick second and holds his hand out, “Pillow, baby.” It takes your blissed mind one moment to register, but as soon as it does, you don’t waste a second, grabbing the pillow next to your head and eagerly handing it to him. He takes the pillow and taps your thigh twice, signaling for you to lift up. He secures the pillow under your hips then brings both his large hands back to the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs up so you’re nearly folded in half, giving him complete access to your dripping heat. 
If there’s one thing about Joel Miller, it’s that he loves to make a fucking mess. You thought your first sensation would be one flat lick up your cunt, but instead you feel warmth. Wet and warm and everywhere, and finally you realize, he let his mouth fill with spit only to absolutely drench you with it. Once he’s satisfied with his mess only then does he dive into you like a man starved. Licking and pushing into your slit while the tip of his nose rubs against your clit has you climaxing in an instant, your back arching and your hips lifting as much as they can with the weight of his hands on your thighs keeping you in place. 
He lets one hand slowly slide off your thigh and up your belly until he reaches one of your tits, switching between grabbing your entire breast and pinching your nipple. He continues to lick at you and circle your clit with his tongue until you’re a complete whining mess from the overstimulation. “Daddy, please,” you moan. 
He lifts his head, eyes as black as ever, “I’ve got you, princess, you can take it.” He reluctantly breaks away from your cunt and kisses his way up your body, taking his time with sloppy, open mouthed kisses near your hip bone and your sternum, knowing those areas drive you crazy the most. He makes sure to bite a little extra hard in some areas on his journey up, knowing you love to admire all the marks and bruises he makes on you. 
He sucks another bruise right underneath your jaw, making you push up into him more, while his hands continue to wander and grasp every part of your body that he can. Finally he reaches your mouth and gives you a sweet, long kiss to your mouth, distracting you enough that you don’t see him reach for the vibrator in the nightstand beside the bed. You feel him slide his hand back down your body, but you still don’t realize the vibrator’s presence until you feel the buzz directly on your clit. 
Out of pure reaction, your hand flies to the nape of his neck and tugs sharply, all while obscenities fall pathetically from your mouth, “Oh- f-fuck, daddy, yes! J-just like that, please, please don’t stop…” The quick-paced, blinding pleasure builds so fast it cuts off your dirty mouth and reduces you down to moans and gasps and whines of daddy, daddy, daddy. 
He slips two fingers into your pussy, sliding in with so much ease with how wet you are from a combination of your cream and his spit, all while he uses his other hand to push the vibrator into your bundle of nerves. 
You don’t know whether it has been one minute or one hour of this, but all you know is that you’ve got sweat lining your forehead, beading down your body, and you absolutely can’t take the buzzing pleasure with the constant come-here motion with his fingers anymore, you have to let go. Although this time, it feels different than the rest of the times Joel has made you cum. This time… this time it feels like- you have to pee? 
Immediately you start to panic and try to break away from his hold, unable to allow yourself to fucking pee all over him. “Daddy, wait! Please stop.. it- it feels different, like I.. I think I’m gonna pee..” you gasp, trying to articulate your thoughts while he continues his torture on your cunt. 
His eyes go wide and it immediately registers for him, “Fuck, baby, don’t worry about that, just let go. Come on, daddy’s got you. You trust me?” 
You hesitate for a moment, but still, you know the answer, “Y-yes, daddy.” 
“Good, my princess. Cum for me, fuckin’ soak me. I told you I wanted another fuckin’ mess,” he demands and fucks you even harder with his fingers and increases the pressure of the vibrator. 
You all but scream, definitely sure the neighbors can hear you, but you don’t give a fuck with the fireworks erupting behind your eyes and all throughout your body. Your body is still convulsing and you’re sure you’ve gone unconscious for a moment, but what brings you back to the Earth is the feeling of a warm, flat tongue licking you all over, cleaning you up. Then another sensation hits you: your bottom half is completely fucking drenched. You muster up all the strength you can to open your eyes and look down to see what’s going on. 
You see your big, broad man licking you up so sweetly, but from his mouth down he is also absolutely soaked, down to the collar of his dark green shirt he was wearing. 
Holy fuck. You fucking squirted. That was new. And with Joel’s reaction to it, you’re definitely sure that’s not gonna be the last time he pulls that out of you. 
He doesn’t realize you’re up again until you’re softly calling his attention back up to you and not your pussy. He makes eye contact with you, and his eyes fucking sparkle. Yeah, there’s no way this was a one time kind of thing. He sits back up on his haunches and strips himself of his shirt. He never pulled his jeans back up from when you used him to get off in the living room, so his dick has been patiently waiting for attention since your last two orgasms. 
He strips himself completely at the bottom half, too, leaving you with a perfect view of his toned chest, softer middle, and bulging arms and shoulders. Your cunt, all used and abused, fucking clenches on nothing at the naked sight of him. Of course, he fucking notices. 
“Oh, my poor baby. She’s just fuckin’ beggin’ to be filled, huh?” His southern drawl always intensifies whenever he gets spurred on like this. And, fuck, if it doesn’t make you fold more than you already do. 
You whine at his words and spread your legs even wider for him to see what’s rightfully his. 
“Just beggin’ to get pumped full of my fuckin’ cum, huh, princess? Is that what she wants? That what my babygirl wants?” 
“Please, daddy! Yes, that’s what I- what I need, daddy… need you ins- fuck- need you inside, daddy,” you ramble out, already fucked stupid but still begging for more. He situates himself on top of you, stopping your begging with a harsh kiss that leaves your already swollen lips throbbing. “Shhh, I’m gonna give you what you need, darlin’,” and he kisses you one more time as he begins to notch his tip at your entrance. 
He hooks his arm underneath your knee, hiking your one leg up higher to open you completely. You feel him start to push in deeper, and neither of you can help the initial gasp of how good it feels to be consumed by one another. He leans down again to kiss you, unable to get enough of your lips on his, and you bring your hand back up to the back of his head, keeping him close to you, feeling the exact same way. 
He completely bottoms out into you then, his breathing labored and you, a whimpering mess. No matter how many times you two have fucked, his sheer size always makes you feel like it’s the first time. He stays still to let you get used to the feeling again. You both lay there for a few minutes, kissing and consuming each other’s breaths and moans while he gives you rhythmic little grinds to stimulate your clit. Your pussy is sobbing at this point, enough wetness has accumulated that he’s able to slide right out until just the tip is in you and he pushes right back in, hard. 
He fucks you hard, maintaining this rhythm for a while, completely consumed by the way you wrap around him so perfectly. What started off as one leg hiked up around him turned into a complete mating press, giving you the maximum sensation of his length and girth pumping in and out of you. He always gets so foul-mouthed whenever you two end up in this position, not that you’d ever complain because you love hearing that rough, sexy Southern drawl utter absolute filth that only your ears will ever get to hear. 
“Fuck, darlin’, it’s like she was fuckin’ made for me. Wrapped around my cock, so fucking tight and warm. I could spend fuckin’ forever here wrapped up in your tight fuckin’ cunt,” he groans. 
“All for you, daddy, always,” you respond, purposefully squeezing your pussy tight in time with your words. That drives him absolutely fucking crazy that he pulls his arm upwards in between your legs that are resting on his torso and brings his hand up to wrap around your throat. “Say it again,” he growls, “tell me who the fuck this pussy belongs to, baby.” He squeezes the sides of your neck tighter, creating an even lighter sensation in your head coupled with the submissive daze you’ve been in since you got here. 
“F-fuck, d-daddy- shit,” you can’t focus on anything but the way he feels wrapped around your neck while balls deep inside of you. 
“Darlin’ girl,” he warns, “don’t make me repeat myself.”
You sob out, willing your body to respond to him, willing your body to obey, “Th- this pussy belongs t- to-“ you take a breath, “to you, daddy, only you. Forever.” 
He releases your throat and pulls your legs down from the mating press, wrapping them around his waist instead. He places one hand at the back of your head and the other on the headboard, then kisses you furiously before breaking away, “God damn f-fuckin’ right, princess. All fuckin’ mine to do whatever I fuckin’ want.” And with that, he’s slamming into you, his hand on the headboard in a (wasted) attempt to save the wall from the constant banging. 
“Touch that pretty little clit, princess,” he breathes out, chasing his own release now with the sole intention of marking you with his seed. One hand still on his neck, the other snakes down to rub your clit in fast, messy circles, your body begging to cum for a fourth time tonight. “Daddy,” you whine out again, the honorific clearly being your only vocabulary for tonight. 
“I know, honey, I know,” he coos, “Cum for me, mama, and I’ll fill you up right fuckin’ now,” he sucks on your bottom lip, “You want that, baby? To be pumped full of me?” He knows your answer, yet he still asks anyway knowing how much his words affect you. 
“Please, God, yes, fill me up… I need your cum so fucking badly, I need to feel you, please,” you beg, only spurring him on more. 
With both of your mouths spilling such dirty words, his lips anywhere they can reach with the combination of you playing with your clit and him pounding into you, your body enters the astral plane yet again for the fourth time tonight. Though, this time, you force your body to come back down, so you can feel his warmth spill into you. 
It only takes but a few more thrusts after you climax for him to follow suit, roaring out as hot, thick ropes of cum spill into you, overflowing and dripping out of your sore cunt. He slowly pulls out, labored breathing, sits back up and just watches. Watches as your pussy clenches to keep him locked inside of you, watches as his load drips down your folds over your tight, little asshole. Another day, he thinks to himself with a smirk. 
He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until his fingers are engrossed in the thick combination of your releases. You moan out at the sensitivity of your pussy, but Joel doesn’t care. He slips his middle and ring finger in, feeling just how much he filled you up. And before you know it, he’s pumping in and out of you yet again, his eyes completely focused on your glistening sex, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that has you fluttering for another fucking release. 
“Ahh,” you hiss, not knowing whether you want him to stop or keep going. He uses his other hand to rub on your clit. Fuck. Yeah, okay, you want him to keep going. “Shit, daddy, I’m gonna cum again,” you say as you scramble to get ahold of the bedsheets. 
Joel’s gaze breaks away from your cunt to look at you, he smirks like the devil, “Oh, yeah, honey? Gonna give me another one? Come on, baby, I know you have it in you,” he slips a third finger inside. You whine at the stretch. “One more mess, baby, and then I’ll take care of you, I gotcha,” he says for comfort. 
You’re nearing the point where you guys usually begin to transition into aftercare, and he knows. He always knows. But he also knows that today you need a little extra push, so he gives it to you. 
The thrusts of his fingers don’t come to a stop, but they exponentially slow. “Give me a color, mi amor,” he softly encourages. Even with your erratic breathing, you’re able to force out, “Oh my god, daddy, green, green, green, please go faster, just like before, please-” 
He quickly leans forward and stops your blabbering with a chaste kiss and chuckles when he pulls back, “My god, I love you so much, princess.” Then his fingers pick back up to the speed you were so desperately loving before, his and your cum leaking out all over the inside of your thighs. 
“Fuck, daddy, I love you so fucking much, fuck, thank you, thank you,” you cry out. A few more pumps and a few more circles to your clit and you’re cumming for the fifth (and final) time tonight. Joel groans at the way you finish on his fingers, and it’s his mouth that blabbers out this time.
“Shit, baby, yes, soak my fuckin’ fingers, let me feel you, fuck-” He’s so enthralled at the sight before him, he doesn’t hear you pleading for him to stop pushing in and out until the honorific fades, “Baby, baby, baby,” you frantically breathe. 
He makes eye contact with you again and realizes how caught up he was in you. “Oh, darlin’, shit, I’m sorry, mi amor. What’s your color, baby? Fuck, I’m sorry-” 
It’s you this time who forces your entire wobbly body to push up and meet him in a bruising kiss. “Stop, daddy,” you say with a lilt in your tone, signaling to Joel that you’re back from subspace. You smirk, “My color is green, cowboy, but I really need you to run me a warm bath now because I can’t move a single muscle with how you had me, baby,” and pull him in once more for another kiss. 
His smugness returns and he pushes you back down on his bed, peppering your face and neck with kisses, forcing sweet out-of-breath giggles from you. “That, I can do, baby. May I join you?”
Your face completely softens, your stresses and worries from the last 24 hours completely nonexistent. “I’d be mad if you didn’t, Miller.” 
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The next hour and a half — or until the bath water becomes tepid — is spent with him cherishing your body, washing you with your lavender, oat milk body wash you love so much, ultimately just helping you softly come down from your oxytocin high. 
You’ve never felt more loved, appreciated, or taken care of in your life. He always makes sure your come down is smooth and unnoticeable as you fall from a blissed state of mind to one of pure love and adoration. As long as you have him in your life, you truly believe you have all of what you need. 
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As he’s drying your body up and slipping you into one of his t-shirts, your stomach growls… loudly. 
“Darlin’...” 
You pull away from his grasp, jokingly rolling your eyes while smirking, “Yeah, yeah, Miller. Come on. Gotta fill me up again, don’tcha, cowboy?” 
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes out followed by your name, “Tryna put me in an early fuckin’ grave or what?”
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Author’s note - extended: Hi guys! I birthed this little one shot on a Friday night while sippin’ on a glass of whiskey and stressing about the stressful entire week I just had. This isn’t my first time writing, in general, but this is my first time writing with the intention of truly producing a story out of it.. this is also my first story I’m posting, so I’m very nervous. Even if just one other person reads this and enjoys it, that’s all that matters to me <3 I also wanna give a quick thank you to my bestie, who’s an AVID smut reader, for proofreading this. She said, and I quote, “gotta change my panties” and “she’s growling” after reading this LMAOO. So, thank you for that, bestie. I love you with my whole heart.
As with any fic, reblog and comments are very much appreciated!! All feedback is appreciated, too!!! Please do let me know how you liked this, and if there's anything specific I could work to improve, I'd love to know! I hope I did okay for my first actual attempt at smut.
Much love to everyone! <3
.
EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!
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lokis-army-77 · 13 days
Text
Ravishing
mondern!Eddie Munson x fem reader
Word Count: 1.5k
Your boyfriend catches you making lunch but food isn't what he wants to devour.
Warning: 18 +. p in v, unprotected sex, kinda dom eddie, slight piss kink (its 4 v small paragraphs, some dialogue, and highlighted in red for those who want to skip).
Thank you to my beta readers <3 and Mariah for helping with the header.
Masterlist
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The late morning sun cast a warm bright haze around the open-concept kitchen and living room. The blinds had been pulled back to let the natural light illuminate what you were doing. 
You shuffled around the kitchen quietly, gathering all the things needed to make a bowl of ramen. In contrast to the warm light, the air was cool. The breeze from the vent just beside the oven had goosebumps appearing over your legs, given you were only dressed in a simple white thong and your boyfriend's rather worn Iron Maiden t-shirt. 
He was still sound asleep, laid out like a starfish, soft snores coming from his parted lips. It had taken everything in you to leave the comfort of the warm bed and his embrace but once your stomach began to growl, you forced yourself to pry your sore body from the bed.
The night before had been eventful, to say the least. Your boyfriend had ravished you. Worshiped your body in the way that only he could. His tongue, fingers, and his cock were dedicated to your pleasure, leaving you a weak, worn-out mess atop the mattress. You went round after round, not stopping until well after the sun started to rise. 
As you reminisced on all the ways he had made you cum, you hadn't noticed the sounds of footsteps heavy with sleep nearing you. 
Arms wrapped around your middle as you placed the pot of water on the eye. You leaned into the embrace, humming contently. 
"Good morning." You smile.
"Morning." He mumbles into your neck. "I'm starving."
"I'll be done with food in a bit." You reply, tearing open the seasoning packet.
He groans into your skin, fingers lifting the hem of your shirt up and over your breasts. "Not what I'm hungry for." He all but purs. His hands move to push your panties down and then grab your hips, rutting his cock against your ass. You hadn’t noticed he was completely bare.
"Eddie-" you gasp as his fully hard cock pushes into your entrance. Your body shivers at the sensation, still sensitive from your last tussle only a few hours ago. 
You hang your head low as he begins to rut into you, moving his hips at a pace you think should be all too fast for someone who has just woken up.
Pouring the contents of the seasoning packet into the water, you took the trash to the counter before bracing yourself against it. "Oh fuck. Feels so- ah! Feels so good." You groan. 
Eddie grunts as he leaves wet, sloppy kisses along your shoulders and up the column of your neck. His teeth nip and bite at the delicate skin, marking you, claiming you as his own. 
He jackhammers into you, the roughness forcing your legs to widen and your knees to weaken. Strong hands keep you from falling. 
You're moved away from the oven, your front pushed over the butcher block counters. The wood is cold and you let out a squeal when your aching nipples make contact. 
The strong thrusts have your body rocking against the countertop. Your hands are thrown out in front of you, pushing against the wall to keep you from being fucked into it. 
You can barely get a noise out with the way Eddie is relentlessly using your sopping cunt.
"Taking me so well, Princess. Pussy made just for me, hum?"
You nod enthusiastically. "S'just for you," your words slur. "Oh-! Oh, Eddie!" Your lungs gain a burst of air as the tip of Eddie’s cock slides past the spot inside you that he always, so masterfully, finds. 
He hikes one of your legs up, opening you further to him. The new angle pushes his length further into you. He's directly hitting that spot now, over and over and over again. It has you lost for words, a bundle of whimpers and nerves so tight you think you might explode. 
It's all building up and you can do nothing to stop it but moan out against the wooden counter.
"Eddie- Eddie please I can't. Fuck-" your voice wobbles. "I think I'm gonna‐"
He buries himself deeper. "Gonna cum pretty girl?"
You shake your head. No, this is different, more urgent.
Your breathing is heavy as you reply. "No. Ah- I think, fuck, I think I'm gonna pee. You have to stop, Eddie, you have to."
He did not stop. The thrusts only kept coming, stroke after stroke he hit that special place but that was not the only place you felt the length of his cock. Your bladder stung with the fast and pressing need to relieve itself. The thought of letting go right here in the kitchen had you flushing, your body hot, and your face as red as could be. 
"Hold it," Eddie commanded. 
Your legs shook with the pleasure and pain
"I can't"
"Yes, you can. Hold it, sweetheart."
"Can't-" you heave. It was taking everything in you to do as he said, to hold it back. "Can't -", You let out a defeated whimper as you felt warmth begin to trickle down your leg. 
It didn't take more than a second for that trickle to turn into a gush. You felt dirty as the piss pooled below you. Your body flushed with embarrassment, tears welled in your eyes. 
Eddie tutted behind you, "Aww, was it too much for you?" The condescending tone of his voice made the heat in your body explode. 
You answered him with a weak mewl, "Uh-huh."
"What was that? I couldn't hear you, baby. Did I make you dumb?"
All the while, his hips never stopped pistoning into you. Sloppy wet sounds were a constant ambiance in the room. 
Now, a more familiar tug begins inside of you, one you knew all too well. A tugging that Eddie had learned, over years, when and how to pull to bring you the most pleasure. He expertly knew how to yank on that string in your abdomen until you fell over the edge. 
Your cunt squeezed him, contracting around his stiff cock like a vice. He chucked before leaning down and licking a thick, wet stripe up the plane of your back, causing a shiver to rake through you.
"I can feel how close you are. So warm and wet, gonna fill you with my fuckin cum." He whispers in your ear.
"Please." 
His lips pull into a smirk against your skin. "You'd like that, wouldn’t you? Want all the cum I can give you, huh? Wanna be a pretty little cum baby for me?"
"Yes, yes Eddie, yes." Your eyes are almost rolling into the back of your head as your release inches closer and closer. 
"Say it. Say what you want." The command is rough, a drastic change from the patronizing softness he had before.
With your body shaking, nerves prickling as you try and stave off your fall, you let out a shriek. "Wanna cum! Please-oh fuck- let me cum!" Your hand's fist so tight, your knuckles turn white. 
You barely hear Eddie give you permission before you're coming undone around him.
You swear there was a bright flash of light before your closed eyes as you shook. Was it heaven? Was it God? You had no idea but you swear with everything in you that this was the most intense orgasm you've ever had. 
Eddie's brutal pace finally dissipates into longer, more slow, and steady strokes as he comes down from his own high. 
"Fuck." The groan he lets out rumbles his chest, you can feel the vibrations on your back. 
You just want to lean there forever. Have Eddie pressed up against you in the warm light of the day, not a worry in the world. Exhausted, your eyes begin to close and your bones become liquid. It's relaxing, resting in the aftermath of something so big. That is until you hear an all too familiar sizzle of water boiling over and hitting the hot eye of the stove.
Your heart beats faster for a whole other reason now as you push Eddie off you and turn to take the pot of water off the stove, thankful there wasn't anything that could have burnt or overcooked inside.
"I love you," Eddie voices. "I fuckin love you."
Turning on your heel, you look at him. His sharp edges seem soft and you can't help but smile. 
"Love you more." You challenge.
He steps forward, taking you in his arms and placing a sloppy kiss on your lips, leaving you with a big smack. "Love you most." Another kiss. And another. And another, until you're giggling so much you have to shove him gently away from you.
"Let's get this mess cleaned up and maybe we can make something to eat." You pause, Eddie opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he can, pointing a finger at him. "And don't say it's not what you're hungry for, I'm not having sex with you again until you have an actual meal."
He lifts his hands in defense. "Hey, not my fault you always look so... ravishing."
"Uh-huh, alright smooth talker. Let's get cleaned up."
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loveshotzz · 6 months
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My name’s Elvira, but you can call me tonight
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steve harrington x eddie’sbestfriend!reader
Melt With You
summary: A cancelled movie night, Steve’s first high, and a realization you weren’t expecting.
wc: 2.7k
warnings: my blog is 18+ but this will be pretty safe for work. takes place in 1988 when Elvira Mistress of the Dark came out. post season four but no mention of the upside down, fem!reader, mentions of weed smoking, mentions of being stoned and being high for the first time, mutual pining, cuddling.
A/N: first I want to dedicate this to @bewilderedbunny for pointing out that Steve Harrington is Bob coded which made me fall even more in love with him. You can also thank @dr-aculaaa for putting this brain worm in my head where it spiraled and then she entertained it again and it spiraled some more. p.s. I know her movie macabre was cancelled in 86 but brought back in the 90’s but let’s pretend.
mini series masterlist -> chapter two 🎃
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Steve was close. Too close.
His thigh is warm pressed against yours, long legs spread wide taking up most of the room on the couch. The cedar that clings to the threads of his maroon sweater mix with the old spice that he’s almost sprayed too much of, and you’re surprised at how much you actually like it. You blame it on the joint you both shared, and you do it again when his socked foot touches yours from under the blanket draped across your laps and your heart rate kicks up a few beats. This was just Steve, your new friend. Eddie’s new unlikely friend.
The living room in your apartment is dimly lit in a mess of Halloween colored string lights strung up along your walls that Eddie helped you hang up last week on the first official day of fall. They fill the small space in bursts of warm orange pumpkins and tiny purple bats while Elvira Mistress of The Dark glows from the screen of your TV in front of your couch. The couch where Steve is still sitting too close. 
The flicker of your candles dances across your walls and you’re tempted to blow them all out when they keep catching the corner of your eye. Maybe that's why you can't focus on the movie you were so excited about. The movie you raised a big fuss over when the group canceled your weekly night in favor of dates and work. The movie Steve still offered to watch with you saying he had no plans anyway. You really contemplate it when you realize it’s filling your living room with the kind of smell that’s eerily similar to the one embedded in the leather of the BMW you recently started getting more rides in.
When Steve laughs you can smell the berry on his breath from the Red Vines he can’t stop eating, his fingertips glisten from the half finished tub of popcorn on the coffee table. His arm brushes the length of yours when he leans forward to toss the almost empty pack of candy with the rest of the snacks and your stare immediately finds the sliver of tan skin revealed to you when the maroon hem rides up. Stomach flipping when you spot more freckles than the ones that seem to dot the endless expanses of his perpetually sun kissed skin. 
“Wow, she’s funny!” He snickers like he just got a good surprise, leaning back into the cushions. “I didn’t know she was so funny.”
The shift in his weight makes the couch dip, bringing you closer to him. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Why is your chest tight?
Turning your head, you meet his blood shot, heavy lidded gaze and lazy smile that pushes up his pink cheeks. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Steve Harrington so content. So relaxed. It might have something to do with the fact that the joint you both shared was his first.
“Beauty, humor and brains? How could you go wrong?” You grin and it makes the amber in his eyes light up.
“Yeah,” He stares at you for a second longer than he’d have the guts to on a normal day before adding with a sigh “tell me about it.”
There was something different about the way he was looking at you tonight, and it makes your palms sweat. The fly away honey strands that stick out wildly by his ears look softer than normal too. Why do you want to find out? Clearing your throat, he raises his eyebrows up at you in an unphased offering of his attention.
“How are you doing big boy? You coughed quite a bit earlier.” His gaze narrows at the nickname letting you know that Steve was still very much in there.
“I think it’s perfectly normal for someone who hasn’t smoked before to cough when they take an accidental big hit,” he challenges, his sock covered toes finding yours again seemingly on their own, “and to answer your rudely asked question, I’m having a very nice time.”
He tries to keep his face straight but the smile that stretches a mile wide across yours makes him snort, the whites of his perfect teeth blinding in the dark when you wiggle your feet with his. 
“Good, I wouldn’t want Robin to come hunt me down or something.” You giggle leaning back letting your own high relax you into the couch.
Your eyes find Elvira’s generous cleavage on the screen as you try to ignore the feeling of Steve’s hand touching yours when he scratches his thigh and again when he leaves it there. 
“Robin won’t care, it’s Nance you gotta worry about. Worry wart Wheeler.” The nickname rolls off his tongue too easily and makes you both stop, letting the sounds of the towns committee trying to get Elvira out fill the silence before you both fall into a fit of laughter.
It was the kind of laughter that left hot tears streaming down your faces as you leaned even further into each other trying to catch your breath, only for one of you to mutter ‘worry wart wheeler’ when the other would finally be holding it together just to start all over again. By the time it was done, and the last few chuckles subsided, his head had found a new home on your shoulder with his forehead buried in the crook of your neck. 
The smell of his hairspray, and the soft flyaways you’d wondered about tickle your nose with his hair pressed to your cheek. Your socked feet stay tangled together as you try not to think about the size difference and that stupid saying you’d heard in middle school, and you definitely try not to think about how the tip of his pinky bumps into the side of your hand and how you don’t hesitate to hook it with yours.
Cozy. Too Cozy.
There’s a comfortable silence that falls between you both when your attention is finally brought back to the movie and you wonder if he’s having the same existential crisis as you at how good this feels. Eddie would never let you live it down. You and the hair?! Steve’s amused hum breaks you out of your train of thought and you already know you’ll have to watch this again when you aren’t so…distracted. 
Elvira and Bob are fighting with a monster she accidentally concocted inside of a pot instead of the casserole she was trying to make, and his finger tightens around yours when Bob almost loses the fight before he shakes against you with a chuckle. The longer the movie goes on, the more you start noticing Steve’s similarities to the hunk who stole the Mistress of the Dark’s affections, mumbling an ‘oh my god’.
God dammit, you have a crush on Steve Harrington.
The weed makes the realization floor you more than it probably would on a normal day, because you aren’t blind, anyone could tell you how handsome the former king of Hawkins is. But no one could have warned you about how soft he is, especially right now with sleepy eyes and messy hair that smells like pine and too much hair product. They wouldn’t be able to tell you how big of a dweeb he is, or as Robin affectionately calls him a ‘dingus’. They also don’t know how good of a friend he is to anyone who’s lucky to have him, like refusing to let you spend the night alone and watching a movie he knew you were excited about just because he’d actually listened when you talked about it for weeks, even saving you the first copy in Keith’s possession. 
Too bad you’ve barely retained any of it. 
As if he could hear your thoughts, you feel the slight turn of his head and the heavy weight of his stare on the side of your face. You try not to give yourself away and keep your gaze locked on the TV where the town has Elvira ready to be burned at the stake, and Bob has to rescue her. You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, the universe just rubbing it in now. 
The side of your body he’s been leaning against starts to go numb, and no matter how much you want to stay exactly like this for whatever is left of the night, the need for circulation becomes too much. Your eyes flick down to his that haven’t haven’t wavered and that slow happy smile spreads across his pink lips when they meet. 
“You doing okay, honey.” The nickname he’s called you sarcastically in arguments sounds different when it’s wrapped in affection like this. 
“Not that I’m not enjoying -,” nerves make your throat close up and you have to clear them out before you finish, “not that I’m not enjoying this. My arm is just kind of going numb.”
Heat rises to your cheeks with embarrassment that you know is misplaced, and his eyes go wide when your words click. His reaction is fast despite the smoked joint that's snuffed out in an empty coke can on the table when he pulls away. The warmth of his body that’s invaded what feels like every inch of yours for the last hour is gone and the tightness in your chest worsens now that you miss it. Stupid crush. Stupid blood flow. 
“Oh my god, sorry, sorry, I was just so comfortable I wasn’t even thinking.” There’s stress in his tone that you haven’t heard all night and you decide that you hate it, he’s always stressed.
“Hey,” Your fingers curl around his bicep, and it flexes under the thick material of his sweater when his eyes meet yours, making you forget how to speak for a moment, “if we lay down on our sides we’ll - we’ll be more comfortable?” 
Your heart beats loud in your ears after you throw out your suggestion fully knowing there’s gotta be less than twenty minutes left of the movie at most. 
“Yeah, we can do that, like, big spoon?” He points to himself, with eyes as red as his cheeks before pointing to you with a small grin, “little spoon?”
You bite your bottom lip to contain the smile that threatens to break across your face, and it only makes his grow. 
“Yeah, just like that Harrington.” You giggle and you don’t miss the kind of glint in his eyes that sparkles because of it.
“Harrington? I thought I was big boy?” He mocks with fake offense, clumsily clambering back onto the couch letting himself fully extend.
His socked feet almost hang off the armrest but the problem is quickly solved when he turns onto his side leaving just enough room for you. One of his big hands patting the cushions in an invitation that makes you both laugh. 
“I thought you hated that nickname?” you tease, butterflies that never existed before erupting when he watches you with soft eyes climb into the spot next to him.
Your head lands in the crook of his elbow, amber and spice enveloping you while one of his long fingers curl around your hip not hesitating to pull you flush against his chest like he missed you. Maybe you weren’t the only one with a wandering mind tonight. 
“I don’t,” he agrees, lips coming up right next to your ear and you wonder if he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine, “but I kinda like it when you say it.”
Your body curls into him when you giggle with a throb in your core that makes your thighs press together. Steve chuckles, hooking his chin over your shoulder and his feet find yours at the end of the couch like they did under the blanket. Grabbing the throw off the floor, you drape it back over the two of you when you both finally get situated. 
He feels like he’s everywhere and it’s even harder to concentrate like this, especially when all his fingers are laced with yours now. The pad of his thumb rubs circles on the top of your hand, and you can feel the way his cheeks push up into a grin every time something makes him laugh. You spend the last bit of what’s left of the movie tangled up with him like this, and neither one of you try to move when the credits roll or when the screen goes black. 
The air buzzes with the kind of tension that’s laid dormant until there’s nothing to distract you from it anymore in the new silence. His breath fans hot across your neck while the strokes of his thumb get slower, adding a little more pressure to the muscle there, and feels good enough to have your eyes flutter closed. 
Maybe it’s the darkness of your living room, or the way the tip of his nose starts to trace the shell of your ear but you get the surge of confidence you need to turn around and face him. Steve doesn’t protest at all, letting you move with the kind of ease that makes you wonder if he was waiting for it all along. The small smile on his face tells you he absolutely was.
The new angle has you looking up at him from under your lashes, while his hand that held yours all night covers the middle of your back bringing you to his chest, getting you just as close as before. Your legs slot together while warm lights flicker across his face, they bounce and reflect off the lingering glaze that coats his eyes. Embers burning in a mossy ground. 
It starts to feel like Steve Harrington wants to kiss you, and you’d be lying if your said you didn’t want him too.
“Hi” You whisper, the corners of your lips pulling up because they can’t help it when he looks at you like this.
“Hi” the rich honey of his voice comes out low as he dips his head down to rest on his forearm right above yours.
The tips of your noses are dangerously close to touching, and you swear you hear his breath hitch when your feet find his again. Holding his gaze, you silently dare him to read your mind so you don’t have to say it out loud. You do it first.
“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You try not to think about how it sounds like something you’d say at the end of a date.
“Me too, I’m uh -“ a puff of hot air fans across your face when he laughs, and you notice his first sign of nerves all night, “I’m glad I didn’t make a fool of myself or anything.” 
“I have to say I’m impressed, you handled your first joint like a pro.” Your hands dare to run up his chest, plucking a piece of lint from the threads of his sweater. You feel the way the muscles in his stomach flex for you, and you have to bite back your smirk.
“I had good company is all.” He hums, the blunt ends of his nails scratching along the dip of your back, before whispering “Is this okay?”
Your eyes flutter shut with contentment you haven’t felt in a while, your whole body melting into his with a mumbled ‘mmmhm’
“Does Elvira have any other movies we could watch sometime?” His question makes your eyes pop open, and he tries to look as nonchalant as possible before adding, “you know just me and you.”
“Not a movie, per say but she has a show I like to watch where she does funny commentary on B rated horror films.” Your two feet trap one of his between them playfully to try and ease the nerves he shouldn’t have, earning you that megawatt smile that’s made half the ladies in Hawkins swoon. 
So, Steve Harrington wasn’t a mind reader.
“That sounds like fun,” He lets out a relieved sigh that you didn’t know he was holding, close enough now for your noses to touch.
“Yeah? You wanna come have fun with me?” You tease, but it comes out sounding like a double entendre that makes your skin heat up, especially when Steve closes his eyes and groans. The nails that scratch your back freeze as he tries regaining some semblance of self control. Licking his lips, he exhales a breath out of his nose before he speaks,
“Abso-“
His answer gets cut off by the sound of your front door slamming open, followed by the bellowing voice of the only other person who has keys to your apartment.
“I’ve come for boobies and I brought beer! Better late than never am I ri- Whoa, whoa, WHOA, what is going on here?” Eddie’s shock is quickly replaced by amusement, dimples poking deep holes in his cheeks when he grins wildly as he takes in the two of you on the couch.
What was going on here?
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thvhoe · 9 months
Text
SUGAR | JJK
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PAIRING: Boxer Jungkook x Ballerina Reader
GENRE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, BOXIG AU, DANCE AU, FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST
WARNINGS: abusive parents, drugs, Jungkook breaking in 💀, cursing, they're complete opposites, cringe nicknames, annoying fangirl?, reader is so awkward, polar opposites dynamics, emo boy Jk, inexperienced reader
WORDS: 10k
SYNOPSIS:
In a society where Jeon Jungkook epitomizes every parent's worst nightmare thanks to his tattooed body and rebellious personality, he crosses paths with someone who seems to be his exact opposite. Your paths crossing seems unlikely, as if the universe itself had never planned for your destinies to be intertwined. But in between shared late nights and lighthearted teasing. Your sanctuary is love.
A/n: ty to all the anons that sent me reassuring asks while I wrote this, this wouldn't be half as good without your help <3 321go
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To say youre utterly drained was the least, today has been an absolute whirlwind of exhaustion. Mrs. Chuu, with her 'great' dedication, pushed you to your limits, demanding three times the effort you usually put in, all because the judges are set to arrive in only two days.
The pressure was on, leaving you in a mess of jittery nerves. Yet, Mrs. Chuu promised you that if you continue with such determination, there's simply no way they won't qualify you.
You find yourself on the brink of collapsing, yearning for a moment of absolute nothing, ready for some sweet sleep when-
"L/n Y/n, what did your father just tell me?" Your mother barges into your room, fury in her eyes as she disregards any sign of knocking.
Your innocent and confused eyes lift from the book you were immersed in up until now, and you hurriedly adjust your glasses sitting up, "Um, Mom, what's wrong?" you ask, unsure of what caused her anger this time.
"Don't act stupid, young lady. Your rebellious behavior has gone too far. You dared to visit that beach again, didn't you?" she shakes her head, her hands firmly planted on her hips, and her gaze piercing into yours.
"One of the housekeepers saw sand on your sandals! Haven't I repeatedly told you to stay away from that place?" she scolds with a loud voice.
"Take this as your final warning, Y/n L/n. I swear, if you don't change your behaviour, I'll ground you until the end of auditions!" She scolds finger pointing at you accusingly.
"oh and one last thing" she says before leaving your room "if you dont pass them, consider yourself grounded for the next year" And with those strict words, she exits your room, leaving you sitting on your bed with wide eyes.
Sighing, you close your book, your mood now down the drain.
You sit in silence, the rhythmic pitter patter of raindrops against the window giving you a strange comfort that your parents never seemed capable of delivering.
Your bottom lip unconsciously pouts, a small tear making its way down your cheek as you walk over to your big window, settling on a soft pillow placed there for moments like these.
Leaning against the windowpane, you look outside, eyes fixed on the darkened streets illuminated by the occasional passing cars.
Living in proximity to the beach meant that your street was relatively quiet, with only a few houses in the area.
Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly draw a heart on the foggy window, adding a smiley face because why not?
You bite your lip, as you think about the small kiss you shared with Jungkook yesterday, a swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach.
There was just something about him that made you feel understood, even though you barely knew each other, you felt a connection to him, a sense of comfort in his presence. He had this crazy ability to perceive when something bothered you, as if internal alarm clocks rang in his mind whenever you felt sad or upset–
Ding
Jungkook🥰: r u up?
Today 11:27 pm
Your eyes widen in surprise as you read his text, and you instinctively remove your glasses, needing to rub your eyes to ensure you're not caught in one of your dreams. It feels almost unreal that just moments ago, you were lost in thoughts of him, and now, here he was; texting you.
You pinch yourself softly, a small gasp escaping your lips as you rub your arm.
With trembling fingers, you type out a response, your heart pounding in your chest. "Jungkook, I can't believe you texted me. I was just thinking about you!" You whisper to yourself, smiling, rereading your text, sending it with a small tap on your phone.
You: Yes, can't sleep 😵‍💫
Today 11:32 pm
Sitting by the window, the storm outside seems to copy the amount of emotions within you.
You never knew a person could make you feel the way Jungkook makes you feel.
Jungkook🥰: cool, look down
Today 11:37
With a heavy heart, you switch off your phone, choosing not to respond to the text from him. Confusion lingers in the air as you gaze out the window, expecting nothing more than the sight of a few trees and the occasional flower. But the universe has other plans in store for you today, as you find yourself locking eyes with none other than Jeon Jungkook himself, leaving you speechless.
"What...?" you whisper shocked, the words escaping your lips almost immediately. Your breath hitches as you carefully open your window, letting a rush of cold air flow in.
In a mix of surprise and concern, you can't help but whisper-yell at him, "What are you doing here? What if my parents see you?"
A mischievous glint dances in Jungkook's eyes as he meets your worried gaze, a playful smirk on his lips.
His presence alone seems to challenge all logic, yet his eyes draw you in, leaving you a giggling mess when you turn away from the window for a second.
Soon enough, another message vibrates through your phone.
Jungkook🥰: you gonna let me in or what?
Today 11:45
Slightly shaking your head at him through the window you pout mouthing "I cant"
But in true Jungkook fashion, his persistence knows no boundaries and without hesitation, he climbs up the towering tree that stands just outside our window, determined to see you tonight. With every passing second, your eyes grow wider until he finally finds himself on your cosy, little balcony now staring at you eye to eye with the biggest grin "Hello sugar, missed me?"
For a moment, you find yourself unable to believe his presence in your room, unable to tear your eyes away from him–Jungkook smirks as he gazes at you in your sweet pink pajamas, with your hair flowing freely and not an ounce of makeup on your face, he can't help but think you look absolutely adorable.
Closing the distance between you, he reaches out to touch your cheek, but you quickly slap his hand away, shaking your head back to reality, your voice filled with panic. "You have to leave," you plead.
"If my mother catches you here, she'll freak out, and I'll never hear the end of it." Desperate to protect yourself and him, vecause you knew your mom wouldn't hesitate to call the cops on him, you push him back towards the balcony.
But Jungkook raises his hands in surrender, a mischievous shine in his eyes. "Hey, hey," he chuckles, striding over to your door and locking it with a quick motion. "See? Problem solved." His carefree attitude only ruffles your feathers as you shake your head with wide eyes.
"No, Jungkook, I'm so serious. You have to leave, like now. This is not a game," you reason, begging he'll understand. However, Jungkook remains unbothered, acting as if hed done this 1000 times before, walking over once more and taking a seat on your bed, just in front of you.
"Calm down, sugar," he teases with a smirk, his hand reaching out to your hip, drawing you closer and giving it a squeeze "The only light on in this entire house is in your room. Your parents are probably fast asleep. Besides, I missed you," he confesses, his tongue plays with his lipring as he stares at you, thumb brushing up and down your side.
You exhale gently, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you softly place your hand over his bigger one, halting his movements. "You're quite stubborn," you remark, fighting back a smile as you direct your gaze downward.
"And so are you, sugar," he replies with a smirk, rising to his feet and making his way to a small bag he had hidden from you until now.
"Huh?" you tilt your head in confusion. "Snacks? Why?" you inquire, your mouth watering as he unveils a packet of your ALL-time favorite treat—strawberry marshmallows.
"Because you and I," he gestures between the two of you, "are going to hang out tonight." He makes you giggle "You mentioned earlier that you don't have to wake up too early tomorrow, so maybe we can stay up a little longer and talk?" His tone takes a complete 180 from his earlier teasing one.
You bite your lip, contemplating his question. He was right—you had class at noon, not at the ass crack of dawn like always—so technically... ugh, fine, you decide, nodding and settling down on the plush carpet, patting the space in front of you for him to join.
"Wait," you halt him, pointing to his Balenciaga stompers that he often wore when you saw each other. You loved them.
"Take off your shoes first," you demand, a touch of playfull authority in your voice.
"As you wish, ma'am," he chuckles, slipping off his shoes and then taking a seat in front of you, extending a packet of sweets your way. "You're absolutely insufferable, Jeon," you shake your head in playful exasperation, but can't help but savur a bite of the sweet goodness.
"So, what's on your mind?" he asks, taking a bite himself and leaning back, propping himself up with his palms as he raises an eyebrow and fixes his eyes on you.
You shrug carelessly. "Everything's alright, normal," you reply, biting your lip and grabbing another marshmallow.
His dark eyes narrow as he sits up straighter, edging his face closer to yours. "You're lying," he states, a hint of tease in his voice. "I don't know why, but I can always tell when you're lying to me, sugar," he smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Or am I wrong? Are you not lying right now?" His tone eager for you to confess the truth.
You stare at him for a moment, contemplating whether it's worth opening up, but finally, you give in. "My mom found out I've been sneaking out to see you," you admit, watching as his eyes widen in surprise.
But before he can react, you interrupt him, clarifying, "Well, she doesn't know about you specifically. She just knows I've been going out to the beach." You continue explaining, "It's nothing new to her. I used to go there a lot as a kid, and I've only recently started going again."
Disappointment fills your voice as you add, "She scolded me a lot earlier." You bite your lip "I hate when she does that."
Jungkook's gaze softens, his hand gently intertwining with yours. "Y/n," he says, waiting for your attention.
"Y/n," he repeats when you don't immediately respond. "Look at me, sugar," he says tenderly, cradling your face in his hand. "Hey, it's okay," he reassures you. "Your mom... she's not the nicest person, is she?" he asks, causing your eyes to widen.
"Don't-" You start, but Jungkook interrupts, "I'm right, sugar. She's horrible to you in every possible way." He speaks with a raised brow. "You... you're so accustomed to it that you just... take it," he continues, his voice softening "you don't deserve that"
"Can we not talk about this right now?" you ask, fidgeting with your fingers, your eyes pleading for him to replace the topic with something else.
When he nods in understanding, you let out a deep exhale, grateful for the temporary switch "Nice room you've got here," he smirks, glancing around. "It's very... pink," he tries to compliment, earning a playful punch on his chest from you.
"I like it this way," you pout in offense. Jungkook simply nods, a smile playing across his lips as he scans the room and spots your collection of trophies.
"Are those all yours?" he asks, gesturing towards them and you nod proudly, a sparkle in your eyes. "Yeah, they're older though. My parents keep the newer ones downstairs," you explain. "Most of them are from when I was 12," you continue, a sense of nostalgia creeping into your voice. "That's when I was winning most of the competitions," you say, a proud smile spreading across your face.
"Mhm," Jungkook nods, his smile widening. "You must be proud of yourself, then," he asks, turning his gaze back to you.
"I am," you reply, beaming. "But winning... it's nothing special to me anymore. I do it for my parents. If it were up to me..." you look for the right words. "I love ballet, you know," you say, your voice softening. "It's fun, but if it were solely for my own fun, I would do it as a hobby no competitions," you explain. "It can get tiring sometimes," you add, observing Jungkook's attentive expression as he listens carefully.
"Is that why you fought with your mom that day?" Jungkook carefully asks, and you just nod "yeah"
Sighing, you take another piece of candy, observing as Jungkook stands up and approaches your collection of prizes, carefully looking at them. He reads out your full name, "Y/n m/n l/n," and playfully raises an eyebrow at you. "Cute"
You respond with a laugh and walk over to him, grabbing the first trophy you ever won and proudly presenting it to him. It was a small plastic trophy, one that your parents had told you throw away years ago because they considered it worthless.
"I won this when I was only 2," you chuckle, raising the trophy. "Technically, I didn't win it alone; everyone who participated received one. But, yeah," you giggle. "I don't recall much about that day since I was... well, you know... only 2 years old."
"That's really cute," he comments, his eyes twinkling with adorationt. "You should definitely keep it" He lets out a light-hearted laugh, casually brushing his hand through his sleek, black hair, which reveals his mindblowingly beautiful full sleeve of tattoos
"Did that hurt?" you suddenly change the subject, pointing at his arm.
"Did what hurt?" he asks, slightly confused. "Your tattoos," you clarify, gesturing towards the inked up part of his arm. "You have a lot. Did they hurt?" you inquire with curiosity. Jungkook just shrugs. "The first ones, yeah. Now, when I get new ones, it's pretty mild," he explains, his voice casual. "Why? Do you like them?" he teases, a mischievous smirk spreading on his face.
"They're so pretty," you say, your hand hesitating in mid-air as you look at Jungkook with wide, hopeful eyes. "Can I...can I touch them?" you ask, a hint of uncertainty in your voice.
"Go ahead," Jungkook smiles and stretches out his arm, encouraging you.
"They won't feel any different from normal skin, though," he adds, easing your curiosity.
Carefully, fearing you might hurt him, you begin to graze your fingertips over his tattoos.
You gasp ag the closeness between the two of you becomes apparent as you notice your noses almost touching. Feeling a sudden rush of uncertainty, you quickly avert your eyes and clear your throat. Returning to your seat and leaning against your makeup desk to create some distance.
Jungkook follows a moment after, but the silence between you feels off.
"Hey, Jungkook," you finally break the silence, locking eyes with him.
He nods, tilting his head against the wall, his gaze fixed on you.
"Are we... friends?" you ask, your voice laced with awkwardness.
Jungkook sighs, cracking a smile.
"Do you want to be?" He asks, raising an eyebrow with a hint of smugness. "Do you want to be friends with me, sugar?" His question lingers in the air, and as you meet his gaze, your mind races.
Did you want to be friends with Jungkook, or did you desire something more? The memory of your shared kiss resurfaces, adding another layer of uneasiness to your thoughts.
But before you can respond, a sudden, harsh banging on your door interrupts the moment. "Y/n L/n, what are you still doing up?!" Your mom yells through the door.
Startled, you stutter "mom I-" but she cuts you off. "And why are you talking? Is there someone in there with you?!" Desperately, she attempts to open the door, but it remains locked thanks to Jungkook.
Wide-eyed, you turn to him, hastily gathering his stuff and guiding him towards the balcony were he climbed in from.
Panic rises in you as you whisper-yell, "You have to leave."
He begins to protest, his voice filled with confusion. "Why? Let me just hide in your bathroom until your mom leaves. We can-." However, your mother's voice cuts through the air once again. "Y/n L/n, I'm getting the spare keys!" Her determination visible leaving little time for debate or strategic planning.
With a tear of pure stress falling down your cheek, you plead Jungkook, desperation obvious your eyes. "Jungkook, please," you beg, "you dont get it-" gently you push him away. "Leave."
"Jesus, Y/n, calm down," he argues, his voice filled with urgency, as he gently grabs your face, wiping away your tears. "Trust me, okay?" He pleads, his eyes searching for yours. "Let me handle this." And with those words, he swiftly pushes his bag under your bed, his movements quick and easy.
Then walking over to your walk-in closet, giving you a confident wink, before your mother enters the room with the spare key in her hand.
As she steps in, her hands firmly on her hips, your mother scoffs. "You've become quite the rebellious young girl," she shakes her head disapprovingly. "What did I say about staying up past midnight? It'll give you eyebags. No one wants to see a ballerina with eyebags," she scoffs, her gaze sweeping across the room.
"Who were you talking to?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Your heart races as you whisper, "Myself. I was reading a book and got too into it. I'm sorry. I'll go to bed now." Bowing respectfully, you sit down on your bed, forcing a smile for her. "It won't happen again, I promise."
Your mother gazes at you for a moment longer. But as she sniffs the air, sensing a weird mix of sweat and perfume lingering in the room, panic wells up in you. "It smells like a man in here," she purses her lips.
"I was practicing some of Mrs. Chuus' choreography," you manage to smile slightly. "I promise, Mom, I wasn't doing anything bad." You hold your breath, hoping she'll believe you.
And somehow, against the odds, she does, finally leaving the room after saying "you stress me out so much lately, im gonna get wrinkles", allowing you to breathe out a sigh of relief.
Jungkook's voice broke the silence once he made sure your mom was gone, filling the room with his beautiful deep voice. "Wow, your mom's a witch," he exclaimed, emerging from your closet, in his hands, he held your none other than your beloved Cinderella blanket, a cute memory from your childhood. With an arched brow, he playfully teased you, holding ut up.
Whispering anxiously, you asked, "Did you go through my things?" Your heart raced as you swiftly snatched the blanket, hurriedly throwing it on your bed.
"That blanket is special. Mrs. Lin gave it to me on my 12th birthday when I was little." You couldn't help but explain, pouting.
A gentle chuckle escaped him as speaks, "I see,"
"Listen, sugar, why don't I give you some space for now? How about we meet at the beach tomorrow?" He suggests leaning against your wall he smirks.
As you gather Jungkook's belongings from beneath your bed handing them back to him, you eagerly agree, "Deal."
A warm smile graced Jungkook's face as he replied, "Great." Taking out the package of marshmallows from his bag, handing it to you. "Keep them," he insisted making you smile.
His touch is softer than usual as he lifted your chin with his thumb and index finger. Leaning in, he placed a soft, affectionate kiss on your forehead, leaving your cheeks blushing.
"See ya tomorrow," he murmured, a smirk lingering on his lips. "See you tomorrow, Jungkook." You nodded, your voice barely audible as you whispered.
Jungkook🥰: good night, sugar
Today 1 am
You go to bed smiling that night.
-
Jungkook found himself back in the boxing ring the very next day, preparing for an upcoming match with a tempting $10,000 cash prize.
"Jk, you're lost in thought, man. What's the issue?" Jungkook's trainer asked, hitting him on the back playfully and ruffling his hair.
"It's that girl he's seeing," Yeji chimed in, the self-proclaimed leader of Jungkook's fan club. She always seemed to be everywhere he was. "Shut the fuck up, Y," Jungkook hissed, his frustration evident. "I don't get pressed over a girl." He shook his head and delivered another powerful punch to the boxing bag.
But Jungkook's coach Bang, couldn't stop teasing him further. "Are you sure? You look like you haven't gotten your dick sucked in ages," he joked, earning himself a sharp glare from the younger one and the vibe in the gym grew shifted tenser as everyone waited for Jungkook's reaction.
"Everyone. Shut the fuck up," Jungkook snapped, his voice filled with irritation. "I didn't come here to fucking talk. If that's what you all want to do, then I'm gonna look for a place that leaves me in peace."
With those words, Jungkook grabbed his gym bag and stormed out of the training facility, leaving his coach, trainer, and fellow boxers stunned and speechless. They watched in disbelief as their star fighter, walked away in the midst of his training.
"Hey Jeon wait up, what about practise-" Bang yells after him
"Fuck practise I need a cig" are Jungkooks final words before ultimately leaving
Meanwhile, outside the gym, Jungkook took deep breaths, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside his head. He knew he had to find a way to regain his focus and concentrate on his training, fuck, why were you on his mind 24/7?
Determining to clear his mind, Jungkook found himself racing through the streets on his harley, seeking solace in the familiarity of the city. Each turn brought him further away from the distractions, and closer to a sense of inner peace.
Eventually, he ended up at the same beach you always hung out at, giving him a sense of peace he yearned for. Jungkook settled on a bench beneath a sprawling tree, its leaves gently falling down with the wind.
"It's that girl he's seeing,"
"Are you sure? You look like you haven't gotten your dick sucked in ages,"
"Fuck man" he groans throwing his helmet into the sand.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow across the beach, Jungkook closed his eyes and let his mind drift away. The sound of your laughter from yesterday not leaving his mind for a second.
"Stop living in my mind," he groans, shaking his head as if that would make you go away.
"I love ballet, you know,"
"It's fun, but if it were solely for my own fun, I would do it as a hobby no competitions,"
"It can get tiring sometimes,"
Your words echoed through his mind, they played on a continuous loop, tugging at his heartstrings, urging him to figure his own emotions. Why did he care so deeply? After all, you were just a girl, seemingly ordinary in every way. There was no special allure surrounding you, nothing overly sexy that would typically draw him in. Yet, there he sat, burdened with his own emotions.
Jungkook found himself lost in a sea of confusion.
The ocean before him, its waves crashing against the shore with a rhythmic consistency. The breeze, carrying a slight chill, felt like it whispered secrets in his ear, as if urging him to figure out why you'd taken hold of his heart.
"I can't get you out of my head," he murmured softly to himself, the words barely escaping his lips.
Your conversations, though normal, carried an undertone of depth and sincerity that had never caught his interest before you. He'd never talk about the things he talks about with you with other people. It was this simplicity, this unfiltered expression of who you were, that made him fall.
Lost in his mind, Jungkook lets the cool air calm his nerves of seeing you. He wanst this nervous yesterday. But he was more nervous yesterday than the day before that.
With every passing moment, his anticipation grew. The prospect of seeing you again made him happy, its like you were about to become his new addiction.
Glancing at his watch, Jungkook realized that he had approximately 45 more minutes until your arrival. The passing of time sparked an idea in him—a small, maybe cute plan that might give him some solace from the whirlwind of emotions that was his minda.
Jungkook🥰: when r u done with practice?
Today 17:15
He plays with his lipring a second before he sees your reply.
Y/n🐠: in around 15 minutes, why? ☺️
Today 17:15
He smiles at your message, knowing you were probably making the same face as the emoji in front of him.
-
"I don't recall granting permission for phone usage during my classes," Mrs. Chuu remarks, startling you as she speaks from behind.
Scared, you quickly bow and switch off your phone, swiftly returning to your position, ready to follow her instructions again. Mrs. Chuu nods in acknowledgement, moving back to the centre of the ballet practice room. Through the mirror, her eyes linger on you, "You know, Y/n, I've mentioned my daughter to you before, haven't I?" As she corrects your posture, you nod at her statement while she helps you in stretching your leg.
Curiously, she adds, "Even though she's now 27, I still remember the time when she had her first crush."
Her words make you raise your eyebrows in surprise. "What-"
Sensing your reaction, Mrs. Chuu quickly interrupts, "I wasnt finished yet." Pausing momentarily, she continues, "Lately, it seems like your mind is elsewhere, and I'm almost certain it has something to do with a boy, dear." With a gentle smile, she taps your other leg, prompting to do the same movement.
You find yourself wide-eyed and shocked, realizing that she knew.
Filled with fear, you gaze at her but she reassures you, "Oh, dear, there's no need to worry. Crushes, boys, and first kisses are all part of growing up. It's perfectly normal at your age." Mrs. Chuu carefully examines your posture, adjusting your arm slightly. "Just make sure you're focused when the judges arrive. Have a pleasant remainder of the day. You may now head home," she concludes the class with these words, leaving you breathless. She. knew.
"So, who's this mysterious guy that has you beaming like that, Miss L/n?" Mrs. Chuu asks with genuine curiosity.
As you take a sip of water and catch her staring through the mirror, a smile graces your lips. Swiftly taking off your ballet shoes, you reply, "His name is Jungkook. I met him a few days ago, and he's just... a dream." Letting out a contented sigh, you can't help but wear a smile of pure hapiness, gathering your belongings and sliding your bag over your shoulder.
"Does your mother know?" Mrs. Chuu raises an eyebrow, her expression curious yet stern. Feeling a sudden twinge of nervousness, you gulp and shake your head, basically saying that your mother is not aware of Jungkook's existence at all.
"Good," Mrs. Chuu responds with a reassuring smile, her eyes conveying a shared secret. "I wouldn't want anything slipping past my lips that shouldn't be said. Have a wonderful evening, enjoy your date, and I'll see you at the same time tomorrow." Her parting words leave you confused
As you walk out of the grand ballet building, a sense of bewilderment washes over you. "Wait, how did she know I was going on a date?" you mumble to yourself under your breath, searching for Mr. Lin's car amidst the huge parking spot.
-
Kicking some rocks and taking another drag of his cigarette, Jungkook strolled along the beach, feeling the salty breeze on his face. The sun was slowly descending by now, casting a warm golden shine over the waves. It was now 6 pm, and as he wandered along the shore, Jungkook couldn't help but let his mind drift to you. You were supposed to arrive any minute now, and a mixture of anticipation and nervousness tugged at his heart.
Smirking mischievously, you watch as Jungkook walks around the beach, shaking your head disapprovingly at his smoking habit, but despite your disapproval, you can't help but find his carefree personality...cute?
With a small smile tugging on your lips, you decide to approach him as quietly as possible, planning to scare him at the perfect moment.
Just as you're about to do so, you let out a playful laugh, causing Jungkook to jump in surprise. "That's revenge for last time," you shrug giggling, unable to resist poking his tummy and feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks when Jungkook doesn't immediately return the laughter.
"Hey, that's not cool," he groans, his gaze shifting from his now soaked shoes, which had lightly hit the water for a moment when he stepped into the ocean, to meet your apologetic wide eyes.
Panic sets in as you realize you might have upset him. "I'm sorry," you quickly apologize, genuine concern clear in your voice. However, before you can fully apologise, Jungkook's teasing smirk reappears, and he swiftly grabs your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder as he carries you towards your usual spot on the beach.
"I was just kidding, sugar. You're so easy to tease," he laughs, finally letting you down gently by the rocks.
He immediately takes off his jacket and places it around your shoulders, his eyes filled with love. "It's gonna get cold," he says softly.
Still pouting, you playfully smack his chest, "You're mean." You pause, crossing your arms and sticking out your lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Don't do that ever again. I actually thought I upset you for a second," you say, your voice filled with a bit of playful whining.
"You could never upset me. I was just teasing ya"
Leaning into his touch, appreciating the warmth of his hands against your cheeks you reply softly "Okay," your pout fading away. "Just remember, payback is always a possibility, so bettee watch your back," you tease
Jungkook sighs, his eyes sparkling with affection. "I'll keep that in mind," he chuckles. With the sun beginning to set, the two of you settle into your usual spot, enjoying each other's company
"How was practice?" you ask Jungkook, leaning against his shoulder to close your eyes for some much-needed rest.
"I didn't go," he replies with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "I went, but then I left again. My coach was pissing me the fuck off," he sighs, frustration evident in his tone.
Placing his hand on your waist, pulling you closer as if seeking comfort from your embrace.
You giggle softly, your voice filled with affection. "I wish I could do that sometimes. It must have been nice for you, though. You deserve some rest, Jungkook," you say, sincerity in your voice. "You work so hard" you add, looking up into his eyes. In that moment, it feels as if the entire world fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.
Clearing his throat, Jungkook looks away, his cheeks tinted with a faint blush. You raise a playful eyebrow, but decide to let it slide for now, focusing on the waves instead.
"So, I was thinking," Jungkook begins, his voice filled with determination. "Since you told me you don't go out much, maybe we should go get some ice cream. There's a place pretty close by," he suggests, nodding in the direction of the place nearby.
You hum in contemplation, genuinely interested. "Is it good? I've never had ice cream before," you confess, feeling a slight wave of embarrassment wash over you.
"You haven't?" Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise and confusion. "How the fuck have you never tried ice cream?" He laughs
A small shrug escapes your shoulders as you reply, unaware by missed opportunities in your life. "Well, I guess you can't crave stuff you haven't tried before. I never had the opportunity to go out with friends and do all that stuff," you explain, your tone carrying a tinge of carelessness.
"Let's change that," Jungkook's determination is obvious as he stands up, pulling you gently to your feet. "You'll love the strawberry flavor," he adds, a warm smile gracing his features as he intertwines his fingers with yours. "Let's go have some fun."
As you walk hand in hand, the warm summer breeze tousles your hair making Jungkook tease you even more. It feels like a perfect evening, made just for the two of you
Arriving at the ice cream parlor, you're greeted by the sweet aroma of freshly made waffle cones and the colorful display of various flavors.
You're amazed by the choices, unable to decide which one to try first.
Jungkook chuckles, amused by your excitement. His hand pulls you closer, squeezing your hip as he speaks "Don't worry. I'll help you choose," he says, stepping up to the counter with a caring glimmer in his eyes.
"We'll have a scoop of strawberry, a scoop of vanilla, and a scoop of marshmallow"
You watch as the employee scoops the ice cream, placing it on the cones with precision. The sight of the creamy swirls mames your mouth water, your anticipation growing with each passing second as you lightly bite your lip.
You watch as Jungkook pays for it, attempting to interject and offer to split the cost, but he insists on treating you. "Don't worry about it, sugar. I like treating you," he teases, a playful glint in his eyes as he hands you the ice cream cone. You can't help but blush feeling a warmth spread through your entire body.
"Woah," you mutter in awe, staring at the huge ice cream before you. The colors of white and pink reflect on your blushing cheeks and unbeknownst to you, a small smile graces Jungkooks face as he snaps a picture on his phone, quickly turning it off and taking your hand, leading you on a cute walk down the street until you reach a little park.
"Try it," he encourages, motioning towards the melting ice cream.
Nodding with excitement, you bring the cone to your lips and take a delicate lick. A delightful hum escapes your lips as the strawberry flavor reaches your tongue. "Wow," you gasp in amazement. "This is so good. Why haven't I had this before?" You pout playfully before taking another eager bite.
Jungkook chuckles at your reaction, "nice you like it," he says, a softness in his voice as he watches you.
"Try it"
And he gladly accepts, taking the ice cream from your hand and a contented smile spreads across his face. "You're right," he agrees. "It's good"
With the ice cream now slightly less melty, you continue your walk through the park, hand in hand.
As you walk, Jungkook leads you to a cute spot beneath a cherry blossom tree.
Taking off his hoodie, he places it on the grass, motioning you to sit on it. "Oh, I don't want to get it dirty, though." You hesitate, but Jungkook is quick to interrupt you. "Come on, I can always wash it."
Nodding you sit beside him, ice cream almost done.
Jungkook's heart races as you scoot closer to him, your proximity making his breath quicken. He watches with adoration as you lick away at your ice cream, your big eyes observing a stray cat that wanders by.
A soft chuckle escapes your mouth, drawing his eyes thoughts back to reality.
"My mom almost took my phone this morning," you laugh, glancing at him. His eyebrows raise in surprise. "Really?"
"But I told her I needed it in case Mrs. Chuu needed me for something," you proudly state, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. "Look at you, making me a rebel," you tease him, taking the last bites of your ice cream.
"Don't blame me," he jokes defensive "It's not my fault you can't live without me anymore."
You pause, the vibe shifting as your laughter quiets down. "Yeah," you begin, "I mean, I'm much happier ever since I met you. It's nice to go out and not be stuck at home," you confess, "I'm glad I met you, Jungkook. I really am," you say, turning to him with a genuine smile.
However, as your words of appreciation reach Jungkook's ears, his expression turns cold. A frown tugs at your lips, and you're about to ask him what's wrong when he interrupts you, laughing bitterly.
"You just..." he shakes his head, scoffing at himself. "You just don't know what you do to me, Y/n," he says.
Confusion settles in, and you whisper, "What?"
Jungkook stares you down, his gaze intense "I was waiting all day for this," he begins, "I had everything planned," he continues, his words pouring out in a rush.
You're now even more confused, trying to piece everything together "Jungkook, I..." you begin to speak, but he stops you,frustration evident in his tone.
"I was going to ask you about your day, walk by the beach, get you ice cream, kiss you...," he rambles, his words overlapping. "But now I'm just sitting here like an idiot, making heart eyes at you," he scoffs, "It's pathetic."
Silence hangs in the air, and you're left speechless by his confession. Slowly, you reach out, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
"Jungkook, it's not pathetic," you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "I appreciate everything you've done for me ever. Your feelings are valid, and you don't have to hide them from me."
He looks at you, his gaze softening as he absorbs your words. The tension between you eases, replaced with understanding. He takes a deep breath, his features relaxing.
"I just really fucking like you" he admits, looking into your eyes.
A shy smile forms on your face as you look down, feeling too many emotions all at once.
"I like you, sugar, and I wanna..." His voice trailed off, a small pleading glint in his eyes as he paused to firmly grasp your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. The touch was firm, his thumb and index finger showing off a hint of dominance, as if he was used to taking control. "And I wanna kiss you so fucking bad right now," he confessed.
You couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. With closed eyes, you leaned in closer, enjoying the anticipation that hung in the air. The mere thought of submitting to him and kissing him sent shivers down your spine.
"I like you too," you murmured. And with those words hanging in the air, he wasted no time. His lips crashed into yours, it was a passionate and much needed kiss, filled with a hunger. His tongue swept across your lip, demanding entry, and you couldn't resist the temptation.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and slightly out of it, his piercing eyes looked into yours. "I want to be with you," he admitted, his voice husky, his hand, tatted and rough, cupped your blushing cheek, a big contrast to the tenderness it held.
Biting your lip, you met his gaze, you were well aware of his reputation, the dangerous fights he got in. But something about his unapologetic authenticity drew you in.
With a surge of neediness, you nodded, "Yes," you whispered. You were willing to risk it all for a taste of the wild temptation he promised.
A devilish amirk spread across his face, a hint of triumph in his eyes. He knew he had won you over, breaking through your soft skin with his rough edges "Be my girl, then," he smiled.
You met his gaze and nodded. "Yes," you were ready to embrace the chaos and danger that came with being with him.
"Oh fuck" his hand on your face softened even more as looked at you, now all his, kissing your lips once more, as if sealing your relationship.
In that moment, you knew you were diving headfirst into trouble if your parents were to ever find out
But that was a problem future you would have to handle.
Series masterpost
Plot credit to all my lovely anons🥺🩷
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@kooliv @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @tatyhend @idontevenknow75 @dunixxd @saweetspoiled @codeinebelle @telepathytae @faepurity @koobsessed @jooniesxbby @bebejungkook @sxtaep @janedukiesworld @outro-kook @grasstrainerjoonie @ziko @jungshook7 @zerocge @dodoneck @beahonomo @jiimtaee @nervoustyphoonpersona @fan-ati--c @koobsessed @nucleo-bang-tan @sincerelyflora @lil-sracha @sweetonkookieandtae @exactlygreatcoffee @hoseokteardrop @aeonianamour @chaelvrx @genkima @gamer-carat @seokjinspinkslipper @kelsyx33 @loveejkk
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sunsetsimon · 5 days
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not smutty but, what do you think the boys love languages are?
(sorry if you already answered this)
also, love your blog and so relieved to hear that you’re okay🩷🩷
thank you so much darling <3
johnny's love language is physical touch. he feels most connected to you when he's able to cuddle, hug, and hold you. deployments become harder the longer you're together as he doesn't want to be gone as long. phone calls and letters matter to him greatly of course, but all he can think about is having you back in his arms.
some of his favorite things to do are giving you massages, showering/bathing together, cuddling, and holding hands. he's always sneaking his hand under the table to grab yours, pulling it to rest on his thigh so he can play with your fingers. lightly rubbing each knuckle, his soft touch tickles you, a silent way for him to say "i love you".
his favorite place for you to touch him is on the back of his neck.
simon's love language is quality time. all he wants to do is be around you, even if there's no talking involved. having your presence calms him and makes him feel complete. you constantly catch him staring at you, his eyes following you every time you move around the room as if he'd miss something. don't even think about being slick about something, simon will see it!
his favorite part of the day is winding down in bed with you, reading his book while you lay beside him, searching for a show to watch on the tv. if you're going out to do something, he automatically assumes that he'll be going with you. what do you mean you're going to the store without him? :( of course he still gives you your space, but if you ask him, he'll say he doesn't need any.
si is clingy in his own little ways <3
kyle's love language is words of affirmation. he loves to talk to you, sharing new thoughts and facts with each other constantly. he’s listening of course, keeping every word locked in a special corner of his mind, dedicated for you. but he can’t help but get distracted by your beauty. those lips that he loves to kiss so much, your facial expressions that he loves to read, your gestures that he loves to watch, kyle is so smitten.
“you’re so beautiful,” he says randomly, after you’ve just spent the last few minutes explaining the book you’ve been reading. it takes you aback, blinking at him until you realize what he’d said.
“thank you,” you blush, completely forgetting what you’d just been saying. his gaze suddenly feels intense, the love radiating off of his body and filling the room.
“c’mere and give me a kiss.”
john's love language is acts of service. no matter how much you beg him to relax, he feels the constant need to be doing something. and what better to stay busy with than doing everything for his partner? if he knows that it’ll take you energy to do it, he’s making sure it gets done before you can even think about it!
keeping the bills in order, cleaning, cooking dinner, grocery shopping, you name it - john’s on it. he doesn’t particularly enjoy doing mundane life things, but he feels fulfilled when he’s able to take care of you in more ways than just financially.
you have to beg him to just relax with you, to order take out and cuddle while watching random movies all night. of course he can’t resist you though, anything to make his partner happy :)
könig's love language is physical touch! he's not one for PDA, but he will rest his hand at the small of your back just to guide you and keep you close. good luck escaping him at home though, because he'll find any excuse to touch you!
back hugs, gripping your thigh, washing you in the shower, he wants it all. könig is huge, about twice the size of most humans, so he uses this to his advantage to trap you in bed with him. his body pins you to the mattress, forcing you to submit to his nonstop cuddles.
“where are you trying to go? everything you need is right here,” he says, pointing to himself as you squirm underneath him.
“the restroom isn’t! so let me go pee!”
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frannyzooey · 2 months
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Short Days, Long Nights: 18
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Joel Miller x f!reader
Rating: extremely soft
A/N: An epilogue to end our story, I'll reblog later with all of my thank yous. For now, this final chapter is dedicated to @mrsmando ❤ and her big giant heart, for whom this story wouldn't exist without.
Series Masterlist
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FIVE YEARS LATER 
“Honey?”
Placing his keys on the table in the entryway, Joel tilts his head to the side and listens. Silence greets him instead, but it’s a warm one. Peaceful.  
Sunlight streams through the open windows in the living room, and he walks through the beams of soft light towards the back of the house, passing through a scene of domestic disarray: a blanket tossed over the couch, toys scattered on the living room floor, small shoes that he bartered for last week kicked off and tossed on the stairs. Bending down to scoop them up with a sigh, he carries them into the kitchen. Placing them on the table, he looks around for any sight of you. 
The backdoor ajar, he heads into the backyard. 
“Honey?”
“Yea?”
Calling to him from the middle of the garden, he spots you with a smile – right as a small body crashes through the bushes with a shriek. Running straight for him, Joel automatically holds his hands out to catch June, but she looks behind her and screams, dodging his reach instead. Another child comes through and then another; a game of tag that’s crossed borders between the houses. 
“Hey! Stop runnin’ through! Just go around em’!”
You stand from your place in the garden, picking your way carefully through the sprouting plants. Your face and shoulders come into view first, and then your stomach – the soft swell only just beginning to show. At the sight of it, he visibly softens and comes over to help you, lending you his hand. 
“You sound just like a cranky old man,” you tease, brushing the dirt from your knees. Looking up at him with a squint against the sun, you grin and mime shaking a fist. “Stay off my lawn!”
“Well I am an old man,” he says wryly, defending himself. “Besides, all I need is for a kid to get hurt bustin’ through those bushes like that.”
He looks over his shoulder and surveys the damage for a moment; the squall of children slightly muted from the front yard. Bringing his eyes back to you, he steps closer and reaches for your bump, splaying his touch over it. 
“How we feelin’ today?”
“Oh god,” you answer with a sigh. “Tired.” 
Letting your head drop forward, you rest it on his shoulder. His hands glide smoothly from your stomach to your hips, encouraging you to lean into him and you do, pressing your cheek against his chest. Warmth radiates through the material of his shirt, and you close your eyes and breathe him in. Sunshine, sweat, the faint smell of the stables and the horse he rode today while on patrol lingers in the fabric, and your body relaxes against his. 
“How was your day?” you murmur. 
“Good. Tommy n’ Maria wanna know if we can come over for dinner this week. Guess she’s been askin’ for that dessert you made last time, wants to know if you can bring it over again. What was it called?”
“Brown sugar pie.” You burrow even closer against him, and his arms slip around your back in an embrace. 
“That’s the one.”
“I think I have everything I need for it. I can do that.”
“I told him I would let em’ know tomorrow. Got patrol with him again at dawn.”
You look up at him with a pout. “So early again?”
He says nothing, bending to press his mouth to your forehead. 
“I miss you in bed when you leave so early in the morning.”
His kiss drops lower, catching your nose.  
“You know I like curling up next to you. You’re like a human furnace.”
The edge of his mouth lifts. “I know, I like it too. But duty calls and all that.”
Presenting your lips for a kiss, he grants a lingering, full press of his mouth to yours and then pulls back. 
“You need me to carry anything into the house?”
“I don’t need that kind of help just yet,” you reply. 
He puts his hands up in defense with a smirk, taking a step back. “Just askin’”.
You wave him away, turning back towards the garden and he turns to head into the house, calling over his shoulder. 
“I’m gonna take a shower. Is he sleepin’ inside?”
“Yes,” you call back. “Try to be quiet when you go in. He kept me up most of the night, so I know he’s tired too.”
Nodding, he catches the screen door before it smacks the frame behind him and quietly heads upstairs.  
The bedroom is scattered with the same lived-in mess that downstairs is: the quilt thrown back over rumpled sheets, his sweats on the floor, a scatter of items on the dresser. Reaching over his head, he tugs his shirt off in a smooth motion, and tosses it on the bed before sitting down with a soft groan, bending forward to unlace his boots. 
His bare back is littered with long ago healed scars, one of them pulling tight across his flank. Sitting up with a stretch, he rubs at it with his hand, the muscle underneath sore from so much time spent in the saddle. Heading into the bathroom, he tosses the rest of his clothes into the laundry basket and steps into the shower, letting the water beat down on his lower back.
Four years in, and he still lets out a sigh of appreciation every time. 
Done and dressed in fresh clothes, he pads around the bedroom in bare feet gathering the rest of the laundry. A mix of his and yours, a threadbare blankie that needs washing, a sleeper on the dresser. Tossing it all into the basket, he goes into June’s room to do the same. 
Picking up the small guitar she plays with while he practices on his own, he places it carefully against the corner of the wall and gathers the laundry she’s left at the foot of the bed. The room reflects the girl herself: purple walls, drawings taped up on every surface, a butterfly suncatcher that hangs in her window scattering rainbows over the floor. 
Hearing muted babbles from the next room over, Joel grabs a shirt off the floor before heading over to the closed door. Opening it, he’s greeted with a grin. 
“Hey big guy," he says lowly, setting the basket on the floor, peering over the side of the crib. Built by Joel shortly after you arrived in Jackson, he thumbs at the mending it needs on the corner, thinking about how it’ll need to be moved into the bedroom in about five months. 
Still puffy with sleep, the boy’s face resembles yours so much that Joel’s eyes crinkle with affection. “You ready to get up?”
One hand holding the basket and the other one dangling to let his son grasp it, they slowly navigate the stairs together, entering the kitchen just as June comes through the back door with you right behind her. 
“Someone woke up, I see,” you coo, scooping the toddler into your arms. 
“You done playin’ tag, June Bug?” Joel asks, squeezing her shoulder. 
“Yea. The other kids had to go home for lunch. Can you make me something to eat, Daddy?”
Routine takes over, the afternoon sliding into the evening, twilight descending around the house. The picture window in the front is a beacon of light; figures moving around inside. Dinner, playtime, bathtime. A freshly bathed June and Henry – Hank, for Hank Williams – in Joel’s lap on the couch while he reads them a book, the gentle clink of dishes being washed sounding from the kitchen.
After the kids are tucked in for the night, you find him on the porch. Pulling his flannel tight around your torso, you take a seat next to him and he wordlessly drapes his arm across your shoulders, tucking you close. Handing him a well worn mug with an owl on it, he hums with approval when he discovers the whiskey inside. 
“I saw the midwife today,” you say, spreading your fingers over your bump. “She said everything looks good so far, and gave me something for the heartburn.”
“Is it still real bad?” he asks, and you nod. 
“She says that it’s a sign it’s gonna be a girl,” you smile at him, shrugging. “I don’t remember having it too bad with June though, so who knows.”
Watching your fingers smooth your shirt over the small bump with a rub, the action moves in time with the slow rocking of the bench. Another sip of whiskey, and Joel thinks about how much has changed between then and now: a fleeting image of your younger face, a picture of a river, a cabin just beyond.
The comfortable silence between the two of you lets his mind continue to roam, the memories coming in flashes: the trek across the country, the simultaneous relief and on-edge anxiety he felt when the walls surrounding Jackson first came into view. A familiar voice calling through the fog, one he thought he’d never hear again. Favoring his left side due to a deep gash still healing from an encounter with raiders, warmth slipped from his eyes as he clutched his brother tight, unwilling to let go. 
The same brother he saw just this morning, and who he’ll see again tomorrow. 
“You’re so different than the guy I left all those years ago,” his brother said later on, and Joel had said nothing, just lacing his fingers with yours. 
He is different. 
The years have softened him around the edges, or maybe the kids have. Or maybe it’s you.  
Relaxing into him, his cheek comes to rest on the top of your head.
“You tired, honey?”
“Yea.” The word slips out, the edges rounded. “But keep rocking me?”
Fireflies spark and dance in the air, the wisps of a song caught on the wind from the neighbor playing their radio next door. Your profile is highlighted with the softened light from inside, your cheeks plump with health and happiness and enough food, the frown lines from ever present anxiety smoothed away years ago. He gently collects the soft hair at your temple with a soothing stroke and your eyes flutter shut. 
His boot pushing off the wooden floorboards of the porch, he rocks and presses a kiss to the crown of your hair, letting the gratefulness pass through him. 
The old life feels like a dream, or maybe this is the dream – with a wife sitting safe and sound beside him, on the porch of a home filled with his children. 
Everything possible because you imagined it possible. Everything here because of you.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, and you nod, not moving. 
The edge of his mouth lifting in a smile, he tucks you in closer and rocks.
THE END
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dewdropdinosaur · 15 days
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Redemption is Best Served Hot
LUCIFER x READER
Part Two
Summary: You are like the mom Charlie always wanted. And like the partner Lucifer wishes he had.
Warnings: NONE.
REQUESTS ARE OPEN! See pinned post for details
In the bustling underworld of Hell, where chaos and mayhem were the order of the day, there stood a peculiar establishment known as the Hazbin Hotel. Run by the optimistic and determined demon princess, Charlie, the hotel aimed to rehabilitate wayward souls and give them a chance at Heaven. 
You, an older demon, found yourself entangled in the unique tapestry of the Hazbin Hotel. Drawn to Charlie's mission and warmth, you had become an essential part of the hotel's daily operations. As the pseudo-mother to Charlie and the other inhabitants, Y/N provided a sense of stability and care in the tumultuous underworld. A pillar of support for the lost souls seeking refuge within the hotel's walls, helping with the cleaning, aiding anyone with anything; you were in fact quite literally acting mother to all six inhabitants. Not that they minded, each loved you in their own way. Even Alastor, who would not admit it to himself that maybe your cooking could have rivaled his own mother’s.
“Nifty darling, here. Don’t run around with that old knife. This one is much sharper.” “Oooooo, thank you! BUGS PREPARE TO DIE!”
“Angel, poor thing. Come here, let me draw you a bath and we can talk all about it….or we can just sit in silence. Whatever you would like.” “Yeah…that woulds be good.” 
“The new shipment just arrived, Husk! Do you want me to help you carry it in?” “Nah, I got it. But thanks.”
“PENTIOUS! What did I say about letting the Egg Bois into my kitchen?!”  “Sssssory Mssss Y/N.”  “It’s alright dear, just…please be more mindful of them. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Vaggie, no you may not kill Alastor.” “But..!” “No buts! You will respect Charlie’s wishes. And that goes for you too, Alastor.” “Oh me? Darling, it would be a pleasure to do as her highness commands.” 
And so on and so forth as the world goes. 
Over the years, Lucifer, the charismatic and charming ruler of Hell, found himself increasingly drawn to you after the original spout with Heaven. It wasn't just your unparalleled dedication to the hotel or the unwavering support you offered to Charlie; it was a magnetic force that pulled him towards you. Lucifer, accustomed to the chaos and seduction that surrounded him, found the calm demeanor and genuine kindness irresistible. In the dimly lit chambers of the hotel, Lucifer found himself captivated by your unwavering dedication and boundless compassion. He admired the way you effortlessly navigated the tumultuous currents of Hell, offering solace to those who had long abandoned hope. 
One evening, as the residents of the Hazbin Hotel gathered for a makeshift family dinner, Lucifer couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout. Laughter echoed through the room, bringing an unusual warmth to the usually cold and unforgiving realm. Lucifer found himself captivated by the way you effortlessly connected with the diverse souls seeking salvation and he felt his heart twinge a little. The scene was sweet, almost too much so. It made him long for something he had never had with Lillith or thought he could ever have. He hardly touched his food all night, too enthralled with you and your presence. You were like an angel, ironically so. 
After the meal and asking the Egg Bois to clean up(they were kind enough to oblige), you retreated to the hotel's back rooms with a book in hand, a haven of peace in the chaotic underworld. Lucifer followed, the air thick with an unspoken tension. You, engrossed in a book, hadn't bothered to notice the King of Hell until he cleared his throat. With a small flush of embarrassment at accidentally ignoring him, you looked up and met Lucifer's piercing gaze with a soft smile, setting your book aside. 
“What can I do for you Lucifer?”
"Quite the family you've built here," Lucifer commented, his voice a silky blend of charm and authority.
Smiling and setting the book aside, you laughed softly. "They're a unique bunch, but they deserve a chance at redemption, don't they?"
Lucifer nodded, taking a step closer. "And what about you, Y/N?” 
Your gaze met Lucifer's, eyes reflecting a depth of understanding about the true meaning of his question. "We're all seeking something, aren't we? Redemption, forgiveness, a second chance."
Lucifer reached out, gently tracing a finger along Y/N's cheek. "And what do you seek, Y/N?"
Your  heart fluttered, and as you took a deep breath you held his gaze. Oh how he loved that dazed look in your eyes. He wanted you to look up at him that way everyday if possible. Just the way your sparkling and your lips parted so sinfully sweet, he knew even the original sin barrer himself could be tempted. "I seek a chance to make a difference, to maybe bring a little of Heaven down here when I could never do it when I was alive."
Lucifer leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "Perhaps you've already brought light to the darkest corner of my realm."
Lucifer then pulled away, a small flush gracing his cheeks. He tipped his hat in acknowledgement before leaving the room without another word. Once outside the door, Lucifer pressed back up against a wall and could feel his undead heart about to beat out of his chest. Placing a hand over his chest in order to calm himself back down, the King of Hell flew back to his castle with a giant grin on his face. 
You too were no stranger to the effects of his…flirting. A giant grin and flush appeared on your face as you sunk back down into the chair you were sitting in. Giggling like a schoolgirl, you kicked your feet happily and ignored the book you were once reading. 
A forbidden connection sparked between Lucifer and you, a dance of redemption and desire in the heart of Hell, where the Hazbin Hotel stood as an peculiar beacon of hope. For in the heart of Lucifer Morningstar, amidst the chaos of Hell's domain, love had found its most unlikely champion.
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ahundredtimesover · 2 months
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I Want You to Stay (06) | JJK
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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; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 14.6k
Series Masterlist
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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
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A/N: We're slowly heading somewhere! Still slow but it's something hehe thank you again for appreciating this piece! 🥰 Also... JK in that Vogue outfit with a corsage. YEP.
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
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The silence that engulfs Jungkook’s apartment once you enter the following Monday is quite unnerving, as it brings back memories of the last time this happened and a half-naked woman came out of the bedroom and questioned who you were. The gym is empty. There’s no other sound of someone typing away or talking on the phone like the few times that you found Jungkook working before you even arrived.
You take a deep breath and decide to just face whoever comes out of these doors until one of them opens and out comes the man himself - alone - dressed in an oversized jumper and sweatpants. He looks like he just got out of bed with his semi-mussed hair - with a little sprout bouncing along as he moves - and groggy eyes, which widen once it registers that you’re here.
“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Are you feeling better?”
“A little,” he replies, his deep and gruff voice startling you a little. “What do you have there?”
He gestures towards the paper bag you’re holding, and you remember what you decided to bring over.
“Uh, chicken noodle soup,” you mutter, somehow suddenly shy. “Just an option for this morning. I wasn’t sure if you were still feeling under the weather.”
“I think I’m just fatigued,” he says. “But uh, I can have that.”
“Yes, sir,” you nod, putting it in a pot to eventually heat. 
You prepare his suits for the week then prepare his breakfast, pouring yourself a small serving as well. He takes his seat and starts eating, and you glance at him to see his reaction.
“Where did you get the one from last Saturday?” He asks, his face expressionless.
“From a store nearby,” you answer. “I was heading somewhere and your building was on the way.”
“This tastes better. Where did you get this from?” 
“I, uh, I made it,” you say softly, feeling a bit of pride that it’s something he complimented. 
There’s prolonged silence that you’re suddenly nervous about. His eyes remain focused straight ahead while yours constantly flit towards him, partly to gauge if he’ll start talking about last week’s meeting and partly to see his reaction about your dish.
“You don’t have to send or make me food, Ms. Cho,” he finally says, wishing he’d said it with a bit more warmth. 
But he’s not used to speaking that way, so it comes off as displeasure, as if he doesn’t appreciate what you’d done even if that’s exactly how he feels. He’s grateful; he just doesn’t want another reason to think that you actually care about him. 
“My health is my responsibility, not yours,” he adds.
“I, uh… I suppose that’s true,” you say even more softly. “I just thought it would be nice to be given something like this when you’re sick.”
And it’s the truth. During the times you were unwell, Hoseok would remind you to rest or take your medicines; he even bought you vitamins and it’s why taking them became a habit of yours. You barely had the energy to make soup. But after that one time when you braved through an event and Yoongi noticed you feeling under the weather, he took you to a noodle house and ordered extra chicken noodle soup for you to take home. You had it all through the weekend, and though it wasn’t like your mom’s, it was still something familiar, and it was comfort that you badly needed.
You thought it was something you could extend to Jungkook. You weren’t sure if he was spending the weekend at home by himself, but in case he was, you thought that something warm would help. You were on your way to watch a local film and happened to pass by his area, the image of him sick and probably alone prompting you to just buy that dish and leave it at the reception. You suddenly craved it and made one for yourself last night, thinking it wouldn’t hurt if you brought some over for him as well. Even if he thinks it isn’t your responsibility, you think it’s still within your role to make sure that your boss - the Vice President - conducts his functions properly, and he can only do so if he’s healthy. 
As you finish the small portion that you prepared for yourself, Jungkook wonders who’d taken care of you during the times you were sick. With your friends and family miles away, perhaps there wasn’t anyone. Maybe it was a boyfriend. Or maybe like what he’s come to see, you did things on your own. Maybe you think there’s no one doing that for him, too. 
And you wouldn’t be wrong. He was never good with company, after all, whether it was offering or keeping it. So when someone offers something as simple as a bowl of soup for when he’s feeling unwell, it cuts through the walls he’s built around himself because he’s become used to no one even knocking to check how he’s doing. 
But in an effort to remain unmoved and insistent on keeping his distance, he sets boundaries once more. 
“You don’t need to do this for me, Mr. Cho,” he states. “I appreciate it, but I’d prefer if you don’t do it again.”
He sees your face fall from his periphery, and much as he wants to take it back, he knows he has to hold back. It was hard enough to resist feeling cared for. 
He’d really spent the weekend by himself, turning down his friends’ invitation to go to a resort and Hoseok’s offer of dinner at this newly opened steak house. Jungkook was buried under the covers when the phone rang informing him that you’d left something for him, unwilling to move and get off the bed because he was too tired but also too hungry, so when he opened the bag and it registered to him what you've given him, he felt less alone and less sad for himself. The image of your shy expression flashed through his mind and he couldn’t help the smile he let out, giving himself only a minute to bask in your kindness before reminding himself that it means nothing more than making sure he’s well. It’s harder for you if he’s sick, he convinced himself. Still, he’d rather not think about it; he’d rather not torture himself by his brain wanting you to mean one thing, but his heart hoping it was another.
“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your voice a little too firm for his liking. “I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”
“It—” didn’t, he wants to say. It made him feel nice and comfortable and that’s what he can’t let himself feel around you. 
“I treat this as part of my job,” you reason, a half lie because you really did want to extend some kindness even if he may not exactly be deserving of it. “But it may not be so for you. I’ll take note of this moving forward.”
Jungkook concedes. Any objection will counter what he’s been saying, even if he didn’t mean all of it. And like how you always do, you get over it quickly, flashing him a measured smile and taking out your iPad to go through this week’s schedule. 
You both head to the car after and discuss his previous meetings. You’re detailed and engaged, taking down notes and asking him questions like the professional that you are. He tells you about his meeting with artist Lee Jaemin and that he agreed with 80% of the pieces that you and Yoongi chose. You talk about the Board members’ reactions during his presentation and he shares what they talked to him about during the dinner. 
“Socializing with them was tiring,” he admits. “I couldn’t keep up with all the things that they wanted to talk about.”
You give him an assuring smile. “You looked like you did well,” you assure him. “They seemed engaged, although as Mr. Jung would say, part of that is for show, to get on your good side. It would be smarter to think that not all of it was genuine.”
“True. But I enjoyed speaking with Mr. Saito. He’s an architect, too, and we had a really good talk about incorporating traditional elements in a modern design.”
“Yes, he’s always been kind,” you say. “But it’s good that you’re able to forge these relationships. Perhaps it’s also new to them, seeing you in that light. I suppose they don’t know you all that much. It’s a nice change being able to engage with you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, well, it’s just during the company events that you attended, it wasn’t exactly hard to spot you,” you chuckle, seemingly comfortable now.
“And why is that so?” 
He turns to you, legitimately curious because he’d never really noticed you before, even if he knew you as Hoseok’s assistant. If he’s being honest, you didn’t even look familiar when you first met, and that just reinforces the fact that Jungkook didn’t really care for the other people around him, especially during those events he was required to fly to Seoul to attend. If he’d paid a bit more attention, maybe he wouldn’t have been caught off guard when he did finally meet you. Maybe he wouldn’t have been as rude, too.
“If I may, sir, it was quite easy to spot one of the Jeon sons always at the bar,” you chuckle. “Your father and cousin would often look for you and you were always in the same spot.”
You’d noticed him, Jungkook thinks to himself. He wonders what you’d thought about him then, but given how he hated those events, it probably wouldn’t be something good. He just always couldn’t wait to leave. 
“Ah. As you can tell, I’m not one who likes to socialize,” he says. “I don’t really know what to talk to people about. And I’m not that good with names nor faces. It was easier to keep to myself.”
“That’s understandable. But you already know that’ll have to change,” you remind him. “Half of what Mr. Jung did was attend events.”
“I know. He’s been preparing me for that. I need your help in that aspect, too, from remembering names to getting my energy up. Those are oddly what I’m most nervous about, if I’m being honest.”
“I’ll do what I can, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I hope I can make things easy for you.”
You’ll never know the irony of your words, and perhaps the push and pull it brings about - as you try to make things easy for him, the harder it actually becomes on his end. 
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You find yourself back at the tailor shop the next Thursday for Jungkook’s suit fitting, and if it wasn’t for Taehyung telling you that your gowns are ready, you would have totally forgotten that you had some dresses made as well. 
While Jungkook tries on his outfits, you’re instructed to choose several dress shirts that he’d be adding to his wardrobe, given the various functions he’d be attending from now on. You didn’t anticipate for this to be part of your role, but you don’t mind, as it’s a welcome change to what you normally do, which is attend meetings, bury yourself in paperwork, and everything else in between. At least you’ll be visiting the venue for the Arts Center event tomorrow, but today, you focus on the task at hand, which turns out to be harder than expected.
The options are endless. It doesn’t help that you have to envision Jungkook in each piece of clothing and that he looks good in every one of them, and that you have to imagine him at all. You see him everyday - and have seen him in as little as in just his gym shorts - and you don’t really want to have him in your mind as well. But how he presents himself is a big part of his new role, as Hoseok had told you. As the Vice President, Jungkook needs to look sophisticated and respectable, someone worthy to represent the company and the Jeon family name. 
You go for different hues of grays and blacks and other colors, too. There’s an olive green that looks really nice, and a few maroons and pinks that would add variety to his everyday look. You’re focused on making your choices, but your focus shifts to Jungkook when he comes out of the dressing room donned in a patterned  black suit. The fit is perfect and even with the distance between you two, you could spot impeccable details that make the outfit look elegant yet fresh. 
“This is for the gala,” Taehyung states. “What do you think, Ms. Cho?”
“It looks nice” is all you manage to say. 
It’s the only word you feel is neutral enough to describe him. Even if you could accept that Jungkook is handsome, you don’t exactly want to say so in front of him.
“I was going for something better than nice, but that should be fine, I guess. What do you think, Kook?”
“I like it. But don’t you think the sleeves are a bit too fit on my arms?” Jungkook asks his friend.
“Well, it’s not like you were flexing them when I was measuring you,” Taehyung playfully rolls his eyes. “But I can adjust it, since I doubt you’d take a pause on lifting weights anyway. It’s probably the material though so don’t worry, I’ll fix this. Okay, on to the next one.”
You return to your task at hand, choosing some patterned tops that are appropriate for less formal events, and you inform Taehyung who then says that he’ll have those made in Jungkook’s measurements. With your task finished, Taehyung instructs you to head downstairs so you could fit your gowns as well, and you follow in anticipation because these might just be the first and only custom-made pieces of clothing you’ll ever have the luxury of wearing.
A female staff assists you, making sure that the length and neckline are to your liking. The first outfit, the one for the Arts Center event, is an old rose sleeveless lace midi dress that looks even more gorgeous when worn. The gown for the Appointment Dinner is a black short-sleeved pleated piece that is both functional and fashionable, but it’s the last one - the one for the gala - that has your jaw dropping to the ground.
“Ms. Cho,” you hear Taehyung call out from outside the fitting room. “Is everything okay?”
“Y-yeah,” you stutter, unable to stop looking at yourself in the mirror and turning around to try to see every angle of the stunning dress. “It’s just, uh…”
“It’s what?” He asks worriedly. “Can you come outside so I can see?” 
You take a breath before pulling the heavy curtains open and find Taehyung and Jungkook standing not far away.
“It’s too pretty, Mr. Kim,” you say shyly. “I don’t think I can wear this.”
“Well, you will. Because it’s custom-made,” he points out. “And it looks gorgeous on you. It fits perfectly. I assume the others do as well?”
“Yes,” you smile, feeling like a fairytale princess who gets to wear a gown that her fairy godmother had made for her. “They’re just…”
“Exactly what you need as this guy’s right hand woman,” Taehyung finishes for you.
He gestures towards his best friend who seems expressionless and probably unimpressed by how you look. It’s not like you mind but it at least wouldn’t be humiliating if he just stood there looking uninterested.
“What do you think, Kook?”
“It looks nice,” Jungkook shrugs, repeating the words you’d used on him earlier. Shifting his gaze from you to Taehyung, he excuses himself. “I’ll head to the car, I have calls to make.”
“I’ll finish up here,” you say, turning around to go back to the fitting room.
Jungkook exits the shop and finally breathes, feeling like he’d suffocated inside because of how you looked. He’d wondered how the dresses turned out, curious about the designs because Taehyung didn’t want to show him; it’s a surprise, the man had said. And now Jungkook knows why. 
Stunning would be an inadequate word to use. The burgundy color of the gown made it look sophisticated on you, even more with the off-shoulder that showed off some of your features that he’d rather not think about. The flow was elegant, and he half wishes that he hadn’t thought of having these made only so he could avoid the moment earlier when he felt his throat dry up because of how beautiful you looked. 
He’s gonna have to get used to being rendered speechless every time, he thinks, but it’s not like it doesn’t happen everyday, anyway. Every morning that he finds you standing in his kitchen, donning the pencil skirt and blouse ensemble that assistants are recommended to wear, his mind short circuits. There’s something especially fresh and electrifying about you at the start of the day, and he always has to pull himself together and act normal around you without giving himself away. 
He can’t nurture the attraction, after all, even if he’s reminded of it during times like earlier, even more so when he gazes at you and you hold it, letting the tension build unconsciously. Because that’s what happened, as you pulled open the curtains and looked up. He wishes you were too shy to notice how long he had his eyes on you. But it’s why he had to get away. You’re too much for him sometimes, and he doesn’t know if you have any idea of how you affect him.
Jungkook stares at his phone, half hoping that an actual call would come to distract him. But nothing does, and he leans his head back and groans in frustration. What is it about you that makes him absolutely weak in the knees and stupid in the head? 
Back inside, you give Taehyung your address so he can have the gowns delivered to your apartment for your convenience. 
“Thank you again, Mr. Kim,” you say. “I wish I could do your creations justice.”
“You will. It’s in the confidence, so exude it, okay?”
“I’ll try,” you giggle. “Especially since those pieces will pretty much blow the Office of the VP’s budget.”
“Is that what Kook said? That these are budgeted under him?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow.
“Uh, yes, sort of. I just assumed because he’d pointed out that they were being made as part of my functions,” you explain. 
“Hmm. I know his office has a lot of money but these gowns would definitely blow up any contingency fund you have,” he chuckles. “So no, your assumption is wrong. Kook’s paying for all this.”
“What?” You exclaim. “But that’s— why?”
“Well, you do need these as part of your job, and he wanted to save you the inconvenience of spending for them. I mean, he did buy Lucas some suits, too. But between you and me, I think this is his way of apologizing to you, just in a very gallant way.”
“You mean unnecessary and undeserving,” you correct, still in shock that Jungkook is paying for all those, even if yes, he can easily afford them. 
“Nope, not at all. I know he’s been difficult to deal with and I’d like to apologize on his behalf, seeing that he’s terrible at doing it. I know it doesn’t make things better but at least it’s something you don’t have to worry about anymore.”
“Well, that does help a bit,” you smile, following him as he heads out the door. “But thank you again, Mr. Kim.”
“Off with the formalities,” he laughs. “It’s Taehyung. And you’re welcome. It’s the least I could do to somehow make up for my ass of a best friend.” 
“He’s not too bad. Not anymore, at least,” you counter. “I’ll go ahead. Have a good day, Taehyung!”
Jungkook manages to look down on his phone in time for you not to see him watch you talk freely and casually with his friend. That’s another person close to him who gets to experience how you’re like - joyful and warm, perhaps a little shy sometimes, but comfortable just the same. It’s something he’ll only see from afar; your positions necessitate some distance, but perhaps that’s better than not having you around at all. 
You enter the car and you’re back to being quiet and reserved, your eyes focused on the road while Jungkook, in an effort not to keep glancing at you, turns to his leather notebook and doodles some designs that pop in his head. It’s his way of calming himself down most days, helping him focus given that his mind is often filled with too many thoughts that he can’t express. He hopes that in drawing them, he can somehow rid himself of the feelings he’s locked in and it helps, as he’s somehow able to get over the tension from earlier and the tiniest bit of jealousy over your casual engagement with Taehyung.
You both return to the office, with Jungkook proceeding to his room to prepare for a lunch meeting and you follow, taking some signed documents that he’d left earlier.
“Mr. Jeon,” you say as he settles in his seat. “Thank you for the dresses. I… I’ve never had anything as beautiful as those and undeserving as I may feel, I’m just really appreciative.”
Jungkook isn’t prepared for the softness in your voice as you say the words, and like the consistent jerk that he is, he brushes it off.
“Taehyung made them; you should thank him. I just paid for them,” he utters, his tone stern and uncaring.
His eyes flit to you when there’s silence on your end, and he wishes they hadn’t. There’s resignation in yours, as if he’s shattering another moment you’re creating where you’re just being sincere and he’s being dismissive. It’s his default, he reasons, not just towards you but towards everyone. Normally he wouldn’t mind how the other would take it, but with you right now, he wishes he was so much better than this. 
You hold his gaze, as if trying to tell him things you don’t want to express. He’s not one to apologize, but he also won’t accept gratitude. You’re starting to think that what Jungkook can’t handle is any form of human connection. It’s something you struggle with at times, but you’re at least open to it, willing to accept kindness and appreciating people for what they have to offer. Jungkook deflects; he turns away. It seemed like it took so much for him to even verbalize needing your help and perhaps he was desperate; his reputation was on the line after all. But even then, he doesn’t give nor does he accept, and you wonder what made him that way. 
“Is there anything else?” He finally asks after a long beat of silence. 
“Nothing more,” you shake your head and excuse yourself. 
Returning to your desk, you look at Jungkook from your seat. There’s a hint of emptiness in his eyes that you often mistake for apathy. Perhaps there’s more and perhaps the help he really needs isn’t just about dealing with his father or remembering names or navigating relationships required for his role. Maybe it’s about opening himself up a little, or smiling when the situation calls for it, or not questioning other people’s kindness towards him. Maybe it’s about realizing he’s more than just this heir to the company or the playboy he’s known as. Maybe it’s about seeing that he’s capable of sincerity and gentleness as well.
You sigh to yourself. It’s probably a long shot but you only feel strongly about it because you know what it’s like to turn people away. If it hadn’t been for your family and friends, you probably would’ve continued to do so. Jungkook may be your boss but he’s human, too, and he may just be waiting around to see who’d be patient enough to extend a hand and let him know that he’s not alone, that someone understands, and maybe that someone is you.
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The days fly by too quickly for your liking and you haven't been able to take a breath. You had a meeting with the organizing committee of the Appointment Dinner most of last Friday and you spent your weekend coordinating with the designers for the Arts Center launch. It’s been last minute preparations these past two days and before you know it, Wednesday has come. You stayed late the night before and were gladly checked in at the hotel with the other assistants, so you at least got a bit of sleep even if your body felt like it continued to stay awake. 
But tonight is important, as the newly appointed executives will be formally introduced to the corporation’s directors, shareholders, and subsidiary companies. You’ve been organizing this with the planning committee since the appointments were announced, and given that coordinating events like this is one of your primary tasks, you’re exhausted and excited and nervous all at once. But it’s the second time you’re doing this and you’ve learned so much since you did this for Hoseok. There’s more knowledge, sure, but there’s also more confidence. You also know enough to eat before the guests arrive and at 3PM, it’s exactly what you do, knowing you won’t have much else until the event ends.
The other employees compliment your dress, and you’re too shy to say who had designed it but you eventually do, knowing it’s good for Taehyung’s brand. But you don’t say much else, choosing instead to focus on the guest list as you’re tasked to do, and you go around the events hall to make sure that the VIP name cards are placed on their proper tables. You’re able to sneak bites of the canapes as you go, allowing yourself a flute of champagne for that kick you need to socialize with the guests tonight. 
You engage with the early birds when they arrive, guiding them to their seats and putting on your most welcoming smile. You get Mr. Ri’s message that they’re nearby, so you head outside and stand by the entrance and wait for them, knowing Jungkook would want to know how things are going.
He exits the car in a black suit and white top, a statement brooch adorning his classic coat. The strands of his long hair are tucked behind his ears and he looks even more polished than usual, a look that catches attention; it definitely catches yours. 
“Mr. Jeon,” you bow in greeting. “Some of your invited guests have arrived.” 
“Have you spoken to them?” He asks, as you walk slightly behind him towards the venue. 
“I have, and they’re looking forward to seeing you.” 
He nods, and just as he’s about to enter the hall, he stops and turns towards you. 
“You’re busy tonight, aren’t you?”
“Somewhat, sir,” you reply. “We all have our tasks but I’m free to move around. Do you need help with anything?”
“Just, uh, names.”
“I’ll always be nearby,” you assure him. 
Your smile gives him the comfort he needs. He’s been without it since yesterday afternoon, given that you had to prepare as part of the organizing committee. And while the support team and Yoongi have been encouraging, only you really know why every event such as this is important for him. 
Jungkook has already made gains with some of the Board members last week; this time, it’s about engaging everyone else - the staff, the partners, and key personalities in the industry. Hoseok and Ji-woo have done this before but it’s Jungkook’s first time. He’s no longer just an executive in the Southeast Asian office; he’s now the Vice President of the entire company. There’s a lot of pressure that comes from carrying the Jeon family name, and even more being the only one of the two sons who’s taking on such an important role. 
The event hall is grand. It’s pretty special, too. It’s one of the projects he worked on as part of the design department years ago before he left for Singapore, and the thought makes him stop. Perhaps this is the reason why his father chose this venue for tonight; if anything, it’s a reminder of what Jungkook is capable of. He takes a breath and looks around to soak everything in before approaching his invited guests - partners and consultants he worked with in his previous role. 
But that ends quickly, as many more people approach him for a greeting. 
Jungkook is a bit overwhelmed. He tries to hold eye contact when he speaks to them but he can only do so for so long. Some faces are familiar but the names escape him, and he starts to regret all the times that he flew here for events like this and never engaged with the other guests. If he had, perhaps this wouldn’t be so hard. 
There are those who introduce themselves, while there are those who don’t, perhaps assuming that he’d know who they are. Just like the couple who’s speaking to him excitedly, and he wants to return the energy by at least calling them by their names. His mind is blank, and just as he’s about to give up, he looks up and sees you, your eyes catching his as if you’re just waiting for his cry for help. 
There’s pleading in his eyes and you get it immediately, as you walk towards his direction then greet the pair next to him.
“Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” you say. “It’s lovely to see both of you again. I saw in the news that you’re launching a new project with our partners from Dubai. That’s quite exciting.”
“Ah, Ms. Cho,” they greet you back. “Yes, all thanks to Mr. Jung who helped us with that partnership. We’re excited for it as well.”
“Oh, I’m sure. We’re looking forward to it,” you smile.
“Thank you. I’m pleased to know that you remain as the Vice President’s assistant,” Mrs. Yamada says. “Perhaps we can invite Mr. Jeon to one of our hotels in Japan? Or even in London?”
You turn to Jungkook who looks less tense than he did a few minutes ago.
“Ah, yes, that would be great, Mr. and Mrs. Yamada,” he responds. “I’m sure I’ll find time during one of my trips and I’ll definitely give you a call. Perhaps we can talk about projects we can work on as well.”
The excitement in the couple’s faces is a joy to see and for their sake, you really do wish that Jungkook makes good on his promise. You ask him about it after they leave, and he says that the names were familiar. Ji-woo’s talked about working with them before and that they’re long-time friends of the family, so he should maintain that relationship. 
A call of his name prompts both of you to look to the side, and he turns to you with a questioning face. 
“Mr. Adam’s an investor. Behind him is Professor Zhang from SNU. They’re friends of your father,” you tell him. Seeing Bitna signal for you, you say, “I have to check on something, Mr. Jeon. I’ll be back.”
You turn around to head to one of the tables, but you look back to watch Jungkook greet those who approach him, his smile becoming more natural as the moments pass by. You briefly meet with some staff about the musical guest and some other last minute adjustments. You greet Taehyung and Seokjin who show up to support their best friend, with both men complimenting how you look.
Knowing that Jungkook will be needing you again after, you call over Do-hyun and Yohan and delegate some of your monitoring tasks to them, and then stand by one of the tables as you watch the socialization take place as more guests come in.
Your eyes find Jungkook again as he’s engaged in a conversation with some Board members and other partners, and you smile a little at how he’s able to maintain eye contact and look like he’s actually interested, especially after he looks up and gives you a look as if to say that he’s trying his best. 
“Why are you watching him like some child who’s trying to make friends at the playground?” Chin-sun asks, the teasing tone of her voice making you chuckle. “He’s a grown man, you know? He can hold his own.”
“I know,” you reply, turning to her. “But it’s one of the many things that’s new about his role. And probably one of the more important ones. I just wanna let him know that he’s doing a good job.”
“Well, there’s no wife or girlfriend to do that. I guess that makes it your responsibility then.”
You disregard her comment’s implication and point out that Hoseok does that for Jungkook, too, but he’s just as busy and perhaps just as nervous as well. 
“It matters a lot to hear it. Plus, social events can be overwhelming and isolating at the same time. He’s still getting used to it,” you add.
The prolonged silence prompts you to turn to her.
“You know, I admire you for a lot of things,” she says. “Your ability to remain kind after everything is one of them. I mean, after how he treated you those first few weeks? That was tough.”
Your resigned face pushes her to continue. “Do-hyun could’ve gone on without telling me about seeing you cry and I still would’ve known. You tried to hide it but your smile always fell too fast and your eyes were just always sad. Must’ve been hard, trying to get the team on his side when you couldn’t do that for yourself.”
“I honestly don’t know how I survived that first month,” you laugh to mask the sadness from that experience. “But that’s in the past. He still has his moments but at least there are good ones now. I’m here to do my job. Being kind after everything is part of it.”
“I wish you didn’t have to keep it to yourself though,” she laments. “If we couldn’t help, we could’ve at least cheered you up.”
“I didn’t want to bring you guys into it,” you say. “The team was incredibly busy with so many things and I managed. That’s what matters.”
“Oh, ___,” she sighs. “You put so much of yourself in your job. I think that’s why the bosses trust you. But that takes so much out of you, too. Do you have anything left for yourself?”
“What’s left is right here, Chin-sun. I don’t think I know what I am outside of all this.”
“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean, I’ve worked with you for three years and I can’t say I really know you outside of this, too. And if you can’t… well, that’s something to think about.”
“And I have. It’s something I’ve asked myself, but trying to find the answer isn’t as easy as asking the question. So I just put all my energy into my work because where else would I? It at least pays the bills and lets me enjoy little luxuries every once in a while,” you reason. 
“Well, I know what learning who you are outside of this job would entail, and I’m a little selfish because I need you around,” she smiles. “No one does things the way you do, and that’s also why I figured that at some point, Mr. Jeon was gonna get himself together because he can’t afford to lose you. You’re so good at this, ___. He’s lucky you didn’t quit.”
“Apparently, it takes a lot to get me to quit,” you reply. 
Or I was just never brave enough to do it, you want to say. Asking the question is indeed always easier than finding the answer. 
“Let’s hope you find a way to find yourself without resigning. We can’t afford to lose you, too,” she winks. 
“I appreciate that, Chin-sun. Thank you.”
“Well, I think it matters that you know that you’re doing amazing. I hope he treats you as you deserve.”
He tries, you think to yourself. At least that’s what you hope. 
The call of your names from a familiar voice excites you, as A-yeong approaches you and Chin-sun. You engage in your usual hushed conversations until you see Jungkook in another sea of people and you decide to approach him, the relief on his face telling you that he’s indeed been needing you. 
It’s not your preferred crowd. Something you’ve learned in your years of attending these events is that you would smile and entertain them and men would think it’s an invitation to invade your personal space. A lingering touch on the elbow, a hand on your waist, standing a millimeter too close… and they disregard your uncomfortable look or attempts at stepping away. 
The man you’re introduced to is new but his ways aren’t, and you scan the hall to find Bitna who turns to you in time, the look you give her signaling another person to look out for. It’s a system they developed that they’ve filled you in on, and you immediately excuse yourself and check on the food served at the back even if you know they’re still well stocked. It at least allows you a breather. You’re not even a main actor but you’re tired as hell from socializing with people. 
It’s not long after when the event starts. Speeches and a performance take place while dishes are being put out, and it’s after the main course is served when Jungkook steps away from his seat. 
Choosing to stand towards the back before he’s called on stage to be introduced, he scans the hall and thinks about the work that the committee put in, including you, who had to deal with him while dealing with all this. He catches sight of you speaking with the other assistants, and he already knows there’s some planning going on. But like the last time, he felt you around even if you were busy; you held his gaze during the times he felt a little overwhelmed. 
“You ready?”
Yoongi’s voice is deep but calming, and Jungkook takes it as his friend’s way of encouraging him. 
“Not really, but I’ll manage.” 
“Good. You’ve got people on your side,” Yoongi assures him. “Like me. And especially her.”
He gestures towards the left where Jungkook sees you approaching them. Since you started working for him, he didn’t expect how easily he could find comfort in your presence. He went from wishing you were someone else, to wanting to distance himself from you, to constantly hoping you were around. Those last two could actually coexist, and they do. There’s still detachment as his means to combat the attraction - he tries not to care about you, to not get to know you, to remind himself of who you are in his life, but he still depends on you for support, for comfort, for stability. You make his life easier; you also make it feel less lonely. And every time you’re there is a moment where he feels like he could breathe, like the noise in his mind stills because he’s forced to focus on you; somehow, you captivate him that way. 
“Are you ready, Mr. Jeon?”
The contrasting tenderness of your voice gives him that boost and he nods despite the lingering nervousness.
“I guess so,” he huffs. “Let’s get this over with.”
He walks towards his seat up front while you stay behind with Yoongi who leads you to one of the free tables at the back. You both don’t say much to each other, focusing instead on the short speeches that Ji-woo and Hoseok give, both of them expressing their gratitude and giving previews of upcoming projects to look forward to. They’re masters at commanding a crowd, as evidenced by their engagement and loud applause at the end of it. You can already imagine Jungkook feeling even more nervous, knowing that’s not really his style, but you hope that your earlier encouragement lingers, as he walks towards the stage.
He delivers his speech flawlessly. Knowing him the way you do, you could tell he let his vulnerability shine through, even if it may not seem much to everyone else. The teaser about the Arts Center gets people excited, which he builds up on. He even slides in a few jokes that surprisingly get the audience entertained. 
A small smile paints your face and from next to you, Yoongi chuckles in almost disbelief. 
“Is it safe to say you’re proud of him?” He asks, as Jungkook walks down the stage and CEO Jeon takes the mic. 
“You could say that,” you turn to him. “It’s silly, considering how things started. I… I didn’t think I’d be genuinely rooting for him, you know? But I am. I really want him to do well.”
“That’s good to hear, ___. I guess it means that things really are changing and he’s treating you better.”
“I think they are,” you hum. “I mean, not the best, but I also don’t know what that’s supposed to look like. I guess I’m just understanding who he is a little bit better now. And I think that makes the difference.”
“Like I said, he’s not a terrible person. He just needs… someone to be patient with him, someone to show him kindness,” Yoongi says. “I think that’s what he lost along the way. He stopped being that way to himself and so did people. They just didn’t want to upset him, but they also didn’t give or show anything more.”
“You think so?”
“Why do you think it’s so hard for him to forge even the simplest and most basic connections?” Yoongi questions. “They lack meaning for him. I think he’s forgotten what that’s like. Without sincerity or kindness, without intensity or honesty, there’s just… emptiness. Everything is fleeting for him.”
“And you’re telling me this, why?” You eye him curiously. 
“Because I think your kindness did something to him.”
“And that is?”
“He’s showing a bit of that to himself, too. And I guess to others as well,” Yoongi explains. 
“I’m a mere assistant doing her job, Yoongi,” you shake your head. “It’s a little selfish but I do what I can to appease him and to make our relationship good enough to make this job bearable for me. If it makes him a better person, good for him and better for me. I’ll just keep doing it then.”
Your friend’s silence prompts you to turn towards him. He seems to be in deep thought, perhaps analyzing what you’d just said, which he tends to do. 
There’s no lie in your statement. You’d done your part of standing up to Jungkook at the start; you at least got to show you were capable of fighting for yourself in that sense. But after that, you learned that keeping things in and letting him see how his actions affect you works as well. You show kindness because it’s natural for you, but also because it keeps the peace, it keeps both of you stable. 
But you can also admit that you do all that because wanting him to know that he’s got you on his side is a way to tell yourself that you’ve got people rooting for you, too, even if you’re not the best at keeping relationships nor keeping people close. You show Jungkook what you want to experience from people; you make him feel what you want to feel. Maybe that makes you selfish. You think it also makes you human.
It’s not something you tell Yoongi, though. But maybe with the way he looks at you assuringly, you suppose he knows it, too.
The event finally ends and the guests start exiting the venue. You bid them goodbye while instructing some in-house staff about cleaning up. Mr. and Mrs. Jeon greet you on their way out, commending you for your work along with the others, and it’s their encouraging smiles that remind you of one of the reasons why you stick to this job. They’re people you don’t want to disappoint as well, and seeing them satisfied is always a good thing. 
“Hey, you’re officially off the clock,” Bitna reminds you. “A couple of us are staying for closing, remember?”
“Right,” you smile. 
They have a day off tomorrow because of tonight but it’s not something you can afford, given that you’ve got the Arts Center event one a week from now. It’s almost midnight and you’d have to be up in 5 hours.
“I’ll get going then. I’ll just say goodbye to— oh, Mr. Jeon,” you say, finding him just as you were about to look for him. “Is there anything I can help you with before I leave?”
“Oh, there’s nothing. Just, uh, how are you getting home?”
“A cab,” you answer. 
Yoongi nudges your arm from next to you with a pout on his face. “Yah! I’ll take you home. It’s not safe to take a cab this late.”
“Yes, that’s preferable, Ms. Cho,” Jungkook says. “It’s been a long night.”
“Okay, sir,” you nod. “And it has. You also did really well. I didn’t expect the jokes but they were obviously a hit. Yoongi laughed, that’s how I know.”
“You laughed, too,” Yoongi points out.
“I’m glad it worked, then,” Jungkook says. “You can get going. You can also report to my place at 8AM to give you more time to rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Jungkook heads out and rushes to the car where Mr. Ri drives him home. His mind is still buzzing from what transpired but he’s glad he managed like he said he would, like you believed he would. 
And amidst the relief that he did well and the nervousness from having to do something similar again next week, there’s you, a vision that he quickly shakes off and one he finds himself seeing after every big and small thing that he does. 
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Your warm shower and your bed have never felt this good, only because you’re as tired as you are and you want nothing more than the weekend to come. But you’ve got a few more stressful days ahead of you and you try to push through them one at a time.
You go to Jungkook later than usual that Thursday then spend much of the entire day meeting with him and the team about next week’s event. You conduct a visit to the venue the next day and then spend the weekend answering guests’ queries and helping Chin-sun coordinate with suppliers. Monday and Tuesday have you going from one place to another and hopping from one meeting to the next, all while balancing your executive assistant and events manager responsibilities. 
It’s incredibly tiring, but you also won’t deny the exhilaration you feel. There’s something so satisfying about seeing everything come together, especially as you look around the venue - an industrial commercial space that Jungkook and Yoongi jointly designed specifically for tonight. The high ceilings allow for the large panels that project the Arts Center design, with bright lights Illuminating the curated sculptures and art pieces placed around. The space elicits a feeling of newness and familiarity, of hollowness and clarity. There’s integration of traditional and modern elements and essentially, of history and emergence. 
It leaves you quite breathless as you look around. It’s not even the Arts Center itself but you know that this is the emotion that Jungkook wants the guests to feel. He wants them to be in awe, to look on in excitement. 
“It’s pretty great, huh?” Yoongi asks next to you. “Worth all the hard work.”
“It is. Design and logistics did amazing in putting this together,” you say, given that you’ve spent the entire day working with both teams to set this up.
“Well, Jungkook’s vision is captivating to begin with. It really makes a difference when you’re led by a creative mind. Selling the idea won’t be so hard in a place like this.”
“I really hope so. We’re banking on the artists for exposure. There are gonna be articles about it, too. The whole process is being documented and that makes the final product much more exciting,” you explain. “I… I actually feel really good being a part of this. I’m glad I didn’t quit after that first week.”
Yoongi laughs along with you, knowing now that that experience no longer bothers you the way it used to. But he’s glad about it, too, not only because he selfishly wants you around but even more, he knew that you needed this, that you needed to feel redeemed in Jungkook’s eyes and in yours. Yoongi hopes that as the project goes on, you’ll learn more about yourself and what you want, what you’re good at, what you can give, and what makes you happy. 
“That makes both of us. I’m sure Jungkook thinks so, too,” Yoongi replies.
“Well, we’ll never know because he’ll probably never admit it but it’s a good thought,” you smile. “As long as we maintain this unproblematic dynamic, I’m good.”
“Speaking of which, where is he?”
“On the way,” you say. “He had a meeting to attend and he said he’ll be fixing up here. He should be here in a few minutes.”
Do-hyun approaches you about the photographer and you excuse yourself, instructing Yohan next to her to lead Jungkook to the waiting room when he arrives. 
Jungkook steps into the venue and like he’d hoped, he feels the energy as he takes it all in. There’s a lot of possibility as he looks around, and that’s what he wants the guests to see. He wants the artists to envision their own pieces displayed; he wants the creatives to imagine fashion shows and photo shoots and videos that come to life; he wants people to see the potential of an Arts Center beyond just looking at art pieces.
But underneath the pride is nervousness. There will be important personalities coming today and it’s his opportunity to engage with them, to make them want to be a part of this. Talking about the details of the project would be easy; it’s connecting with them that’s a challenge. He had last week’s Appointment Dinner as a trial and like you said, he did well. It’s tonight that matters so much more to him. He supposes that what happens will set the trajectory for how the promotion of the Center will go, so making a good first impression is crucial. 
Yohan approaches him and leads him towards the waiting room where his outfit, which Taehyung had pressed and sent over here, hangs on a rack. There are two magazine publications that will feature this event and both include an interview with him and some photos. 
Jungkook starts dressing up, knowing he’ll be called for those not long from now. He looks at himself in the mirror and the uncertainty fills him again. It’s not the look he would’ve gone for but his best friend was adamant that an event like this calls for something new. With his trousers and fitted shirt on, Jungkook breathes in and out, and it’s at the same time when there’s a knock on the door and your call of his name suddenly makes him nervous. 
You enter, stopping as you shut the door, your eyes a little wide, and look at him. You’re a sight to behold in your floral-laced dress and if he was anxious seconds ago, he’s even more now.
“I knew I should’ve stuck to the classic,” Jungkook sighs at your unmoving form. 
“What—what do you mean, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, finally finding your voice. 
“You’re not saying anything,” he frowns. “Tonight probably wasn’t the best time to show up in an outfit like this.”
“And why is that?” You wonder, walking closer to him now. You try to calm your racing heart because Jungkook looking this good in a checkered flared trouser and white v-neck shirt was not something you expected. “You look…”
“Pretentious?” He chuckles, shaking his head and bending towards the mirror, his angled body making you feel even hotter.
You’ve long accepted that Jungkook is a very handsome man. It’s probably why it was more frustrating despising him and, like Soomin said, also satisfying. He’s got a perfect mix of boyish and manly features with his doe eyes and chiseled jaw; the aura of confidence and nonchalance perhaps add to that as well. It also doesn’t help that he has a really good physique, something you’d seen on his first day on the job and one you’d denied affected you. You’d gotten used to it somehow. Hard as it was to suppress those thoughts every time you fixed his tie or watched him walk about his penthouse in his gym clothes, you managed. You’ve always been professional, and you’ve always reminded yourself to not let it affect you.
But tonight, it’s just hard not to, especially with the way his biceps are popping out of those short sleeves; and if the shirt were an inch tighter, you’d probably be able to trace his toned chest and abs as well. He’s cut his hair, too, slick and pushed back as if he's starring in some western rockstar film. 
“Good…” you manage to say after what seemed like minutes. “The outfit looks good on you, sir. It’s new and fresh, not like the usual formal attire that screams ‘businessman who only wants profits.’ This is posh and stylish. It makes you look more approachable.”
“This is what would make me look approachable?” He asks incredulously.
“Actually, a smile would,” you say too quickly, earning you a laugh. “But this works, too. It fits with the theme.”
“That’s what Tae said, too,” Jungkook sighs. “He insisted that at least for these Arts Center-related events, I should dress a little more boldly and more interesting, things I definitely am not but, well, I couldn’t counter him when he said that my usual prints and styles make me look like I’m just going to a meeting or some business conference.”
“And he’s not wrong,” you point out, walking closer to him. “You don’t need anything eccentric, just something exciting. This is simple yet sophisticated.”
“Have you seen the coat?” He asks, gesturing to the rack when you say no.
“Oh. There’s a corsage,” you say, admiring the matching brown checkered piece.
“An oversized one,” he rolls his eyes. 
“It looks pretty.”
“That’s what he said, too.”
“If you don’t like it, why didn’t you tell him during the fitting?”
“I did like it but it’s Tae - he’s good at convincing people that they look good. And I probably thought that, too. But he’s not yet here and he’s gonna be late so right now, all I can think about is that I’ll look ridiculous.”
“Well, that makes one of us,” you say, surprising him. “If what I think matters, then you’d have to take my word for it. The outfit looks good. It captures people’s attention and that’s what you need. You’re just gonna have to follow this up with similar styles but that wouldn’t be a problem. Just carry yourself with confidence. It’s what Mr. Kim would say.”
“I know. He texted that same line to me five times today.”
“He’s your best friend, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure he’s looking out for your best interest.”
“True, but then again, we were forced to become friends when we were young so who knows?”
You laugh at his words. “Is that so?”
“Our fathers are best friends so we spent a lot of time together,” Jungkook shares. “We were all so different and we got on each other’s nerves but I guess that made us closer. I… I wasn’t close to my brother so I just stuck with those who stuck around. It’s a good thing they turned out to be decent people.”
“They’re very kind, I should say.”
“Yeah. It sucks that their kindness didn’t rub off on me,” he says as he holds your gaze.
The tension rises as you look back at him. It’s hard not to fall into his eyes, and you’re thankful for the knock on the door and Yohan’s voice on the other side saying that the interviewer is ready for Jungkook now. 
“Five minutes,” you call out, breaking the moment and retrieving his last piece of clothing. 
You assist him in wearing his coat and just like reflex, you immediately fix the sleeves and adjust the corsage that isn’t actually that big. You look at him from head to toe and see Taehyung’s vision. There’s something captivating about Jungkook in this fit; it makes him intriguing and someone to look out for. You suppose that was the intention.
“Respectable enough?” He asks worriedly once you meet his eyes.
“Respectable enough,” you affirm, hoping your smile can give him the encouragement he needs. 
You open the door and let the first set of crew in. You watch on as they interview and take snapshots while your own team from the marketing department capture what’s happening as well. 
Jungkook sits cross-legged on the sofa, his eyes looking out into the distance as he absorbs the questions and thinks of his answers. He gesticulates as he responds, something you noticed him only ever do about topics that seem very important to him. He’s done it during meetings with the team and with Yoongi, and you suppose there’s that level of honesty that he shows then. His responses are thoughtful and profound, as the questions revolve around the type of art pieces to be displayed, how culture can be celebrated and respected, and what the public can look forward to once the Center is open to everyone. 
The next interviewer starts off with the practical questions before moving to the technicalities of the design and structure such as the materials used, the techniques utilized in renovating such a massive complex, and how the Center itself represents art and culture. This is when Jungkook fully relaxes. You see it in his body language, in the softness of his expressions, and in the mellow tone of his voice as he discusses in terms you don’t fully understand but somehow still make you feel like you know exactly what he’s talking about.
It’s different seeing him in this way. Your team vetted these interviewers and publications and they seem sincere about their articles and so you know they aren’t there to judge; Jungkook knows they aren’t there to scrutinize him. He’s not there to impress them or even to sell the idea; he just wants to share it, to make it known, to narrate the process of this project that may still be in its very early stages but which has lived in his mind for years.
He may not always be good with words but you can tell that he finds them when the ideas are clear to him. He’s able to articulate what he sees in his mind and there’s something captivating about that. There’s a lot you can learn from him, you think, and if what you develop after having stayed this long is even just a fraction of his creativity, then you’d feel accomplished. 
You can tell even more now how important this is to him, especially when he emphasizes the individual’s need and desire for connection and how he wants the Center to be a hub for that, or perhaps its creator. You wonder if he knows so much about it, or if, like you, it’s something he also constantly seeks. 
You’re so focused on taking him all in that you don’t notice that you’ve been staring. Your eyes fall on his fingers, waving about as he draws imaginary pictures; they land on his lips, pink and dry as they utter words that are perhaps the most he’s said, and suddenly, his voice is the most comforting it’s ever sounded to you. You look upwards and that’s when you notice it - his eyes are on you just as yours are on him yet he continues talking, and you hold onto it for a few seconds before you feel the heat reach your cheeks. It feels like a burn and you snap out of the spell-like feeling you were caught in as you turn away now and try to catch your breath.
You hadn’t meant to stare but you were drawn to him at that moment, and as he talked about how the designs reflect the tangibility yet elusiveness of human connection, you found yourself drowning in his words and in the way he said them. He’d caught you before you could look away, and you decide that the only way to go about it is to pretend it didn’t happen.
And that’s what you do, as you remain on your spot with your eyes scanning the room, no longer focused on him.
The interview ends right as Chin-sun enters to say that some guests have arrived. You instruct her to entertain them first with Manager Lee as you wrap up in here and it’s not long after when you’re left with Jungkook once again.
“Was that good?” He asks, his gaze on you as you look elsewhere.
“It was. You seemed more relaxed,” you state, unnecessarily fixing the couch to distract yourself. “That’s a good way to start the evening, Mr. Jeon. I’m sure the guests would enjoy speaking with you tonight.”
“That’s what I hope,” he replies. “I’ll need you close to me to keep track of scheduled meetings or any invitations. I’d also like them to be familiar with you as my assistant so they know who to reach out to in case I’m not available.”
“Of course, sir,” you say, turning around to face him again, suddenly feeling nervous about the intensity of his look. “I’ll take note of all those.” 
He nods then exits the room and you follow. You trail him as he starts to greet the guests one by one.
There are heads of private foundations and curators. There are creative directors from entertainment agencies and some art enthusiasts. There are artists and authors and poets, all of whom are intrigued and seemingly excited about what’s in store. 
Jungkook heads to the front after being introduced by Manager Lee and takes his time to introduce the project, utilizing the panels and all of the interiors’ walls to showcase the design virtually. He presents his plans and the role of artists, creatives, creators, and consumers. It’s a half hour speech that ends, followed by a light sit-down dinner that Jungkook takes advantage of to engage with the guests. 
He first greets the deputy minister of the arts and culture ministry and then Mr. Saito, who’d likewise brought some of his artist friends from Japan. 
You then follow Jungkook around as instructed, taking notes on your phone in between to list all the upcoming meetings and other activities scheduled on the spot. You’ve somehow developed this skill with Hoseok but it still doesn’t get any easier. The fact that so many of them want to touch base with Jungkook after his pitch says a lot about how well he did and how much it resonated with the people he wanted to connect with. 
Based on your notes, you can already tell it’s gonna be incredibly busy moving forward, and the thought suddenly makes your head hurt. But you push through, knowing there are more people to meet with, even with Chin-sun and Manager Lee entertaining half of them. 
Jungkook takes the stage again to introduce some of the artists whose works will be displayed in the Arts Center, and he gives them time to talk about their pieces and what drew them into the project. The company head who’s been contracted to create the products for the souvenir shop also speaks, and as they share, you feel the excitement heighten. The opening is still a long time from now but things seem so clear and so certain, and you know that was because of Jungkook - because he demands the same level of excellence he practices from others, because he’s committed to his vision and he makes sure to see it through. 
More engagement takes place, and your only breather is when Jungkook decides to talk to his father and then Hoseok but after that, you’re back to following him around and running out of calling cards for people to keep and call you in the future. 
The last of the remaining guests finally leave at 10PM. You look around and the art pieces are being carefully wrapped for transport. The panels remain but Do-hyun and Yohan will be returning in the morning to pack everything up. Slowly, you start to feel the soreness creep in and the headache intensify but you shake all the pain off. There are two more days left for the week and you just have to power through them to survive. 
“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?” Chin-sun asks as she readies to leave.
“I live on the other side of the city from you. From all of you,” you remind them. It’s really the only reason why you don’t hitch a ride with them, especially considering that they have families and pets they go home to. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”
“What about Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, surprising you because you thought he’d been on the phone. “Can’t he drive you?”
“He left an hour ago, Mr. Jeon,” you reply. “He has that early morning flight to Jeju tomorrow.”
“Mr. Ri can drive you home after he drops me off,” Jungkook says. “It’s too late in the night and it might be hard for you to get a cab.”
“Okay, sir. Thank you,” you mumble, waving everybody goodbye as you follow him towards the car. 
You get inside and find him sitting in the backseat, his coat removed and his head rolled back. You can tell all the socializing drained his energy again, and you’d hate to remind him that there’s a Property Expo next week that his father assigned him to attend, as well as a Partners’ Fellowship Dinner where he has to deliver another speech. You decide to do so in the morning instead and let the soft sounds of the radio soothe your mind.
“I think tonight was a success,” he mutters, prompting you to turn towards him. “Everyone I spoke to seemed excited.”
“They were,” you affirm. “They wouldn’t be scheduling meetings with you if they weren’t.”
“That’s true,” he hums. “That’s one major event down and several more to go.”
“I hope the team was able to show you how well we work together, Mr. Jeon. And that like me, they’re all on your side.”
Jungkook lets your words settle. He agrees. The team was like a well-oiled machine. Each member knew their roles and performed their tasks excellently. And there was you, of course, handling every one of his instructions and requests with grace. You looked really beautiful doing it, too, and he doesn’t know if he wants to thank or curse Taehyung for designing another dress that makes you stand out from the crowd because that’s what happened tonight - everywhere Jungkook looked, it seemed like all he could see was you.
He shakes away the thought, knowing that constantly acknowledging his attraction towards you would just make things harder for him the way that denying it would, and while he doesn’t have a solution for that either, he supposes that not acknowledging it at all would be the best option. 
So he focuses on the team instead, and he feels comforted to know that they worked hard because they knew how much tonight mattered to him, as Do-hyun expressed earlier. 
“I’m glad they are,” he finally replies. “I… I still don’t think I’m their favorite person but as long as they don’t despise me anymore, then I’m satisfied with that.”
“They don’t,” you counter, although even you’d know that’s a half-lie.
“They do. Or did, at least,” he laughs dryly. “It’s easy to stay unnoticed outside of the team’s office, you know?”
The tinge of sadness in his eyes confirms what you’re thinking - he’s heard some of the team conversations about him. And while you’d argue that they’re not vile or anything close to that, you also know that talking about him not smiling or not expressing his gratitude are things you shouldn’t be saying behind his back. Even if they’re true.
“I”m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon. We–”
“It’s okay, it’s not a big deal,” he interjects. “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given you reasons to feel that way. You all did go from Hoseok to me and that’s quite the downgrade in terms of camaraderie and stuff.”
“We still didn’t have the right to say those things. And no, I’m not agreeing that you’re a downgrade,” you clarify. “Like you said, you and your cousin are very different.”
“I did. And that’s why I’m not surprised, is all I’m saying. But despite all that, the team did amazing tonight. Not like I’d expect they wouldn’t because they prefer someone more joyful or expressive, but it… it was also nice to see them enjoying themselves. I hope you did, too.”
“It was a memorable experience, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “It’s something new. The previous projects and events we handled were either residential or commercial in nature and our creativity wasn’t pushed as far as the Arts Center is doing. And we all appreciate that, even if we may not show it.”
“That’s good. At least there’s still something that you’re all getting out of this.”
There’s a sadness in his voice that you’re hearing for the first time. You don’t know what about tonight that’s making him vulnerable and honest with you. Perhaps it’s all the talk about human connection that he seems to struggle with, and maybe he’s realizing now that even with the team performing as well as they are, there’s still something lacking in soul and emotion that he thinks is because of him. 
Whatever it is, you hope that he doesn’t let it bring him down too much. Working closely with him, you’ve come to see more of him despite his efforts to keep those layers unpeeled and you’ve come to understand him a little more. You’ve forgiven him in the process, too. The team is still adjusting and you know it’s your job to bridge that gap. You’ll just have to figure out how. 
You let the silence end the conversation, not knowing what else you can say to comfort him at this moment. But you try though, as the car stops in front of his building and you call his name right before he closes the door.
“Yeah?” He asks, looking curiously at you. 
You almost forget what you’re about to say as he’s bent forward, his arm propped on the car roof, the surrounding lights highlighting the features of his face. 
“You did great tonight, too. And I learned a lot from you. Thank you for guiding us, sir.”
He’s left speechless, as he holds your gaze for a moment before nodding and closing the door. Mr. Ri drives away and you look back to see Jungkook walk slowly towards the building entrance, briefly looking your way before disappearing inside. 
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You arrive at the office the next morning at 9AM with a splitting headache, your body dragging itself towards your chair as you try to maintain balance and get yourself together. Jungkook had messaged late last night that he was going to have a breakfast meeting with his father so you could go straight to work, and given last night’s late finish, you could come at a later time as well.
That gave you another two hours of sleep, which you were thankful for considering the terrible state you were in when you woke up. Your body felt sore and the dryness of your throat signaled that you’re about to get sick - it was just a matter of when it was going to fully kick in. It’s how your body reacts to stress, a pattern you noticed since you started working in the company. It’s usually after succeeding weeks of late nights and big events when you give in - the headaches start then the sore throat; not long after, the fever hits and you’d have to spend days just doing nothing until you’ve expelled the exhaustion away. 
On rare occasions, your mother or friends come, knowing you’d be too sick to make yourself some food. But they don’t always have that luxury. They have their own lives, too, lives that they just happen to have far away from you. But it’s why it mattered that you gave Jungkook that noodle soup when he was unwell. You know what it’s like to be sick and hungry and completely helpless, and you had a feeling that just like yourself, he’d deal with it on his own. You’ll probably have to stock up on food tonight to get you through the next few days; you just hope you haven’t completely fallen apart by then.
You take your medicines and try to focus on your tasks for this morning, scheduling meetings and screening photos from last night to be used for marketing purposes. Needing some tea, you head to the pantry and briefly check in with the team before heading back. You see that Jungkook has just arrived, as he accompanied his father to one of their project sites after their meeting. He calls you over and asks if Do-hyun and Yohan have come back from fixing things at last night’s venue.
“Yes, sir, they just got here,” you reply. “Everything’s been stored properly and Chin-sun’s working on the payments already.”
“Good,” Jungkook responds. “It’s lunchtime though, so you should all grab a meal. There’s a French restaurant that just opened a block from here. I heard it’s got great reviews, so take the team there and have them order anything they want. You can just use your card to pay but it’s under the office’s budget.”
“Okay, sir. Uhm, that sounds great,” you manage to say, excitement filling you because you spent the other night watching review videos of that restaurant on YouTube and immediately told Jimin and Soomin that you’ll be eating there when they visit you the next time. “What about you though? Aren’t you joining us?”
“I… Well…”
“You don’t have any other scheduled meeting other than the one we’ll have as a team at 2:30.”
“I don’t have to go,” he answers. “You all worked hard and deserve to enjoy yourselves and I don’t think that’ll happen if I’m around. We can all debrief during the meeting but lunch is your time to get together and bond as a group.”
“You’re part of that group, too, Mr. Jeon. You are our boss,” you counter.
“Exactly.”
“But Mr. Ju–” you stop, not wanting to draw another comparison, which you said you’ll stop doing.
“I know. Hoseok would join you for lunch or dinner and the team enjoyed his presence,” Jungkook states. “I don’t think that’s the case with me. This isn’t me putting myself down but… you know that I don’t really… do things like that. I’m still learning that part of the role and I don’t want to spoil their fun.”
“You can’t really speak for the team though,” you point out.
“Well, you represent them to me. Am I wrong to assume all that?”
“No, but I think it would be a good opportunity to prove to them otherwise,” you advise.
Jungkook sighs, knowing you’ve got a point. But he insists, claiming that he’s still figuring out the team and how to relate with them. 
“I understand, Mr. Jeon,” you concede. “How about your lunch?”
“I’ll manage. You can all go ahead so you can get back on time.”
“We will. Thank you. I already know they’re going to enjoy it.”
The team is ecstatic when you tell them about lunch plans. They also only wonder about Jungkook’s presence once they’ve ordered and perhaps they’re still figuring him out, too. Much of their engagement with Jungkook is through meetings, as none of them, save for Manager Lee, feel comfortable or even free enough to just approach him. They also don’t know much about his interests or his quirks, and that puts you in the same boat as them. 
You said once that you’re not sure if you’ve gotten used to him already. Maybe slowly you are, as you look around and wish that he was here to experience this, too. Somehow you just think he’d love the duck confit dish that you eventually order for yourself. Maybe you can let him know, and he can order it on his own time. 
Lunch ends with everyone on a high from the delicious meal. Even you forget how terrible you’re actually feeling and let the laughs and scrumptious food compensate for the fatigue. 
You get back to the office and head to Jungkook as the rest of the team prepares the conference room for the meeting. You see a half-eaten sandwich on his desk and hate to think that it’s all he had while you enjoyed a fancy lunch that he ordered you all to have. He seems to pick up your thoughts as your eyes flit from him to his food and he affirms you that he’s not that hungry, given the heavy breakfast he had this morning.
“How was lunch?” He asks. 
“It was great. The food was really good. I had the duck confit that I think you’ll like and… uh, they were asking where you were.”
“They were?” 
“Yeah,” you respond. “They were wondering why you didn’t join us.”
“What did you say?”
“That you were on a conference call,” you say. You didn’t like that you had to lie to them about it, but you also didn’t want to use that time to talk about Jungkook behind his back again. “Yohan said that it’s understandable; you’re always busy and he doubts you get a break while you’re here.”
“Oh. Well, he’s not wrong.”
“We had a good time though, and I’m sure they’ll tell you later but thank you. It’s nice seeing the team enjoy themselves. I wish you could see it, too.”
“Maybe one day,” he says sullenly, standing up right after to head to the meeting with you.
The room quiets down when you both arrive and Jungkook feels once more the shift in their disposition once he joins them. He can’t fault them for it knowing that’s because of him, but as time passes and the more he talks about the value of human connections - which the Arts Center aims to foster - the more he starts to think of exactly what he’s missing by keeping himself too far a distance from everyone else around him. 
His father tries, he can tell. Most of their breakfast or lunch or dinner meetings aren’t actually meetings, and he supposes it’s just his old man’s way of spending time with him by disguising it as something work-related, knowing that Jungkook wouldn’t be into it if it wasn’t. His mother asks him over to their house on some weekends for lunch, her own way of reconnecting with him after years of being apart, but even with that, Jungkook just gives the bare minimum. 
He doesn’t not like them; he just stopped being close to them at some point and he didn’t really care to mend it as he grew older. The women he sleeps with don’t count since he doesn’t even really talk to them, and other than Taehyung and Seokjin, and occasionally Yoongi, who keep up with his attitude, there really isn’t anyone else whom he thinks enjoys his presence enough to want to have him around. 
He doesn’t know about you though, but he makes an educated guess and thinks there’s not much of him you’d miss just like anyone, and while the thought stings a bit, it’s one he tries to live with.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon,” Manager Lee greets and implores the others to do the same. “Thank you again for lunch. It was really delicious and pretty fancy. I wish I’d worn a prettier tie than the one I have right now.”
“Your tie looks fine, Manager Lee,” Jungkook replies.
“Ms. Cho said you were busy, that's why you weren’t there,” Do-hyun boldly says. “Hopefully next time you can join us. I mean, not to assume you’ll treat us again, although that would be nice, but–” 
“Do-hyun just wanted to say thank you,” Chin-sun butts in. “And that we understand you have so many things going on, Mr. Jeon, so hopefully, when you have time in the future, you can join us for a meal, too.”
“That, uh, that would be fine, yes,” he mumbles, taking his seat and avoiding looking at everyone except you. “Let’s start the meeting.”
You’re there for over two hours, rehashing the entire process, given that it’s the first event out of many that the team organized. Jungkook is generous in complimenting everyone, including you, and he gives updates on the interest generated and all the artists he’ll be meeting in their respective studios as a result. 
The Ministry of Culture minister likewise pledged support, promising a linkage with the international media festival organizers like Jungkook had hoped. You’ve all accomplished so much in so little time, but the rest of the timeline shows that there’s still so much ground to cover. You plan the next steps and then spend half an hour talking about the other small projects that the VP’s office is managing before Jungkook adjourns the meeting and orders you all to head home to get some rest while he stays behind to work some more.
You follow him this time, trying your best to be stable as you take the bus home. You manage to buy some beef bone soup on the way for dinner, and once that’s all finished and you take a long hot shower to hopefully get rid of the stress in your body, you plop down on your bed and fall asleep with no warning at all. 
You wake up in the middle of the night, your clogged nose keeping you from breathing. With puffy eyes, you search for your eucalyptus inhaler and take your medicine before going back to bed and hoping that when you wake up, you’ll feel less terrible than you do right now. 
But you don’t, as you wake up to your alarm not long after and feel even worse. Your body is sore, your head feels heavy, and it’s a struggle to even turn to your side to try to pull yourself off the bed. Knowing there’s no way you’ll manage today, you call Mr. Ri and inform him that you’re unwell and can’t make it to work. 
“I can’t even type nor talk properly right now,” you tell him. “Can you–”
“I’ll tell Jungkook, don’t worry,” he assures you. “And just to remind you, you’re sick, okay? So stay in bed, don’t do chores or anything, and don’t think about work for even a second. You hear me? And update me on how you are.”
“Yes,” you cough out. “Thank you.”
You lie underneath the covers and hope to the heavens that more sleep would make you feel a bit of relief and it does, given that when your phone rings five hours later, you don’t feel like your head is splitting apart. 
“Good, you’re awake,” Mr. Ri says on the other end after you greet him. “Can you open your door?”
“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I’m exceptionally slow this morning.”
Mr. Ri laughs but tells you to take your time. You put on a hoodie over your gray sweatpants and briefly wash your face before opening the door. 
“Work’s got to you, huh?” He asks worriedly as he stands in front of you. “Is it bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital? I can drive you there.”
“I’ll manage,” you mumble. “But what are you doing here, Mr. Ri? Mr. Jeon has a meeting in an hour.”
“I know. But he wanted me to give you this.”
The older man initially hands you a large paper bag but decides to just place it on your table given your weak state. He removes the containers of chicken noodle soup, rice porridge, and soybean sprout soup, boxes of soft bread, and a small jar of yuja marmalade for tea. 
“What–”
“Your meals for the next few days so you don’t have to worry about preparing them,” Mr. Ri says. “Jungkook wants you to focus on resting. He wants you to take Monday off, too.”
You look at him and suddenly feel like crying. You knew that waking up, you’d be worrying about what to eat, given that you barely have ingredients to work with. You also don’t have the energy to make anything, especially something that’d help with your health. Jungkook just relieved you of that, and at a time like today, you feel what it’s like to be cared for. And though you can argue with him using his own words - your health isn’t his responsibility - you won’t pretend that it doesn’t give you comfort knowing that he’d made the effort to buy all this and have them brought to you. 
You talk a little bit more before he heads out, and you lead him to the door where you look across the street where the car is parked. Your eyes may be puffy but you don’t miss the silhouette behind that backseat window. 
“How is she?” Jungkook asks as Mr. Ri enters the car and slowly drives away.
“She looks like someone who’s been working hard these past months and in need of rest. She says it’s normal but this is probably the worst. These few days off will be good for her.”
“I hope so, too.”
“She’s thankful for the food, Jungkook,” the older man says. “I know she’d probably say you didn’t have to but I could tell it meant a lot to her. She doesn’t always ask for help, you know? It’s good you’re somehow letting her know that she can count on you when she needs you. If this is you making it up to her, you’re on the right path.”
Jungkook hums in acknowledgement, although unsure what it means for him. Is it to compensate? To apologize again? To return the favor because you’d done it first? Is it to let you know that he has your back, too, the way you’ve been showing him that you have his? 
He’s alerted by a message, your name on his screen somehow making his heart jump. It’s a text message and not one from the usual messaging app you both use for work purposes because, well, that’s really the only thing you talk about.
[From: EA Cho] Thank you, Jungkook. I really appreciate it.
It’s the use of his name. It’s the sincerity in your simple words. 
He smiles to himself. 
Whatever it means to you, he knows it means another thing to him. He doesn’t want you to feel alone. And that in the coldest nooks of his uncaring heart, he actually does care for you. For this moment, he’ll acknowledge it. For this moment, he’ll let himself feel it. He can only hope you feel it, too.
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devourable · 10 months
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✎ the prodigy
sfw | tags : male!yandere student x gn! reader (only prn used for reader is ‘you’), obsessive behavior and thoughts, bullying, slight classism, gaslighting? i think
surprise! i came up w the idea of this guy like,,, two days ago and had to get him out my system 😭 i feel like all my yandere ocs are too nice (save for althea) so heres one thats an asshole. enjoy! reblog to support me :]
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sterling cygnus has it all.
good looks, a wealthy family, and a place in one of the most prestigious private colleges that one could go to. aptly dubbed the ‘prince of ice’ by his classmates thanks to his cold demeanor and disdain for interpersonal connections, the young man had one goal in his mind since he started attending school.
to be the best!
sterling dedicated himself to his studies. nothing was more important to him than ensuring he got the top scores on every exam he took, sealing his place as number one in the academic field by any means necessary. no one dared to breach that. and anyone who even tried received his ire.
no one was going to stand up to him — why would they? they’d hate to end up like the poor guy who’s dorm was raided after he surpassed him. or the girl who did the same, resulting in her being forced to drop out after her father’s suspiciously sudden arrest left her unable to pay tuition fees. but of course, there was no real proof that sterling had caused both incidents. it was just a coincidence! right?
well… the day you came onto his radar was a day that left the entire student body tense.
everyone had gathered around the bulletin board where the latest exam results were posted. there were gasps of shock, murmurs, and even a small ripple of laughs floating through the otherwise quiet crowd. it was unusual. and when sterling had pushed his way to the front to gaze upon the list of student names with their scores beside them… he understood. and in an instant, he was furious.
he was in second place. and above his name, with a pretty 100% score next to it, was yours.
who the fuck did you think you were? coming to his school, earning the grade that he worked so hard to receive, and daring to take his place as number one?
sterling knew in an instant that you had to be a new student. he had all of the names of those who ranked just under him memorized, and yours wasn’t one of them. were you a transfer? a latecomer? he had no clue what the circumstances behind your sudden arrival was, and honestly? he didn’t care. you had taken his place, after he had worked so hard to get there. after he had been there for so long. you had taken his place. and he knew for a fact you didn’t deserve it.
but just as he resolved to figure you out so he could plan his revenge?
there you were. passing through the the slowly dispersing crowd to look at the leaderboard, your eyes locking with the name — your name — at the very top of it.
when sterling first saw you, he couldn’t even begin to understand the feeling that had suddenly flooded his senses. it was so strange… and why did the world suddenly feel a lot slower? why could he only notice you and him in the hallway? why did his heart skip in his chest when you glanced at him and your eyes locked?
if you had tried to say something to him, sterling didn’t even notice. he had hurried off before you could even speak.
he was sure he despised you after that point. he had to have, he told himself. the way his mind always drifted back to you when he was trying to study, angrily clicking his pen and gritting his teeth as he thought about your stupid hair and your dumb, adorable eyes, the way your uniform looked better on you than anyone else in the college — he didn’t even realize he was thinking about you so much until he snapped out of them and noticed how much time had passed.
he hated you. he had to. you had taken what was rightfully his, probably with dumb luck or cheating, and now you were invading his thoughts in such a way? was there nothing you wouldn’t take from him?
he was colder to you than anyone else. he had to be — you needed to learn your place around him. he’d ignore you in the halls and during class, and when you’d innocently ask him for his input on something, you’d be met with a sneer and a condescending retort.
“i don’t fraternize with people like you. don’t bother me.”
despite this, he’d always wander around near wherever you went. going to the library at the same time as you so he could snatch whatever book you had planned to check out away from you and take it for himself, making sure to go to the cafeteria just before you arrived so he could take what he knew was your favorite snacks, and he’d always be at the dorms before you — trying so hard to not stare at you when you passed by in your pajamas, fresh out of the showers.
your stupid body wash smelled so good… he couldn’t help himself when he snuck back to the locker room after hours to snag it for himself.
weeks after your arrival and sudden climb to the top, everyone was confused to see you were still attending the school. sterling would’ve taken out anyone else by then, what was so different about you?
but no one would ask, obviously. nor would anyone come to your aid when all of your pencils and pens were all mysteriously snapped in half one day. or when you’d find your notes torn into pieces and haphazardly stuffed back into your bag. and when you tried to alert staff about your dorm room’s door being ajar for some reason, they brushed you off even though you knew for a fact someone had gone through your things (‘nothing important’s gone? no bother pursuing the matter, then’).
with how much disdain and contempt he seemed to hold for you, it was so strange that sterling didn’t like the idea of no longer catching daily glimpses of you. or having access to your things.
so even though sterling went out of his way to make your school life nearly unbearable as revenge for coming along and doing just that to him first, he didn’t make the move to actually have you removed from the school and opted to torment you instead.
you deserved it, he told himself. far more than anyone who came before you.
he’d show you what happens when you bother sterling cygnus.
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jihyoruri · 4 months
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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 SANTA DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO idol ahn yujin x idol reader
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❆warnings: yn is apart of new jeans, yn is a dork, wrote this while listening to santa doesn’t know you like I do by sabrina carpenter
this has got to be the fifth time yujin has bawled her eyes out all day. going through a big break up during the holiday season isn’t the ideal thing
the girl blew her nose into her tissue before she buried her face into her pillow, she’s about to start crying again until a soft voice interrupts her session of wallowing in self pity.
“yujin unnie?”
she knew exactly who’s voice it was.
to ahn yujin, yn was a nightmare, having one of your younger members best friends have a crush on you, isn’t the ideal thing for most people.
and it definitely isn’t the ideal thing for yujin.
new jeans is the new big thing, the six girls are completely untouchable with the success that they’ve been gaining since debut, so imagine the ive members reactions when rei brought one of the members to the dorm introducing the girl as her best friend.
yn was one of the most known members of the group, she was known for her charisma and talents and extroverted personality that has a way of wrapping everyone around her small finger
she also has the biggest crush on the leader of ive and the bane of yujin’s existence.
she just couldn’t stop taking her shots at the older girl, even when she was in a relationship, she’d say things like “hey unnie, when are gonna dump that chick?”, “rei told me that she was late again, couldn’t be me..”, “did you know I wrote super shy and attention about you? what songs has she written about you again?”
yujin groans and covers her face with her hands, “what?”
the door opens to reveal the younger girl with an adorable smile on her face, she had a white fuzzy beret on her head with a matching fuzzy white sweater and leg warmers, along with a hello kitty shaped polaroid around her neck.
“did you know it’s snowing outside?” yn asks as she walks into the room and closes the door behind her causing yujin to groan again.
“no.”
“oh, well it is.” she says before sitting beside yujin on her bed, “I heard about the break up…”
“yeah…” the older girl replies, “you’re probably happy about it.” she says before taking a peek at the younger girl only to see that she had genuine pity on her face.
“well… I can’t say I didn’t crack a smile when rei told me…” she says causing yujin to let out a laugh, “you’re the worst oh my-”
“but!” yn shouts over yujin waving her hands, “I am really sorry, I knew how much you liked her, even though she was hot trash.”
“gee, thanks yn.”yujin sniffs rubbing her nose. “she wasn’t that bad…” she adds making it yn’s turn to groan.
“oh come on!” the girl yells, throwing her head back, “she was the absolute worst, remember when she said ditto wasn’t even good when my members and I literally put our heart and souls into that comeback?”
“she also treated you horribly and you know that, I mean just look at the way she just left you.” yn says firmly causing yujin to nod her head defeatedly, “ I just know for sure that I could treat you better.”
“here we go again.” yujin says rolling her eyes, every time…
“no! I’m serious, she didn’t and never grew to know you like I do.” yn says grabbing yujin’s hand, “I know all your favourite songs… and even though I say the most stupid shit I definitely know how to make you laugh.” the younger girl adds causing yujin to let out a small laugh.
“see! when was the last time she genuinely made you laugh?”
“I don’t know…” yujin trails off and before she knows it, the tears are starting back up again, “gosh, I’m so stupid.”
yn immediately panics and pulls yujin closer to her, “no, you’re not! you’re the smartest, you’re hard working, dedicated and so talented and prettiest person I know, that asshole was just to stupid to see it.”
yujin looks deep into yn’s eyes and feels her face heat up slightly at the compliment, this is the first time the younger girls words have actually affected her and for some reason that makes her eyes water again.
“oh, how I wish I would kiss your tears away.” yn says before slapping her hand over mouth in shock, “there’s no way I just said that.”
yujin laughs again and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, “maybe you can do that after the fifth date.”
“yeah…” yn trails of her face heated with embarrassment, “wait- what did you just say.”
“you heard me.”
“holy shit…” the younger girl says to herself, “wait does that mean there’s chance that you might go out with me after you’re healed from your relationship and stuff?”
“maybe” yujin shrugs.
“oh my gosh.” she says getting up from yujin’s bed, “oh my-! I gotta go tell rei!” she says before rushing out of yujin’s room.
yujin laughs at the younger girls antics but is shock when yn runs back into the room and places a kiss on the older girls cheek before running back out the room.
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