#he just keeps getting hotter it's bananas
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oscar isaac photographed by luis alberto rodriguez, 2024 via playtusu
#he just keeps getting hotter it's bananas#p: oscar isaac#photography!#*mine#mine: edits#oscar isaac
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Honey Whiskey
a continuation of American Honey | in which Harry is a single dad/rancher and continues his secret affair with his babysitter
warnings: age gap (both parties are consenting adults over the age of 21), unprotected sex, dirty talk, spitting, rough oral (m receiving), slight degradation, a hint of choking, squirting, brief mentions of body insecurities
word count: 6.6k (I haven't written anything in like a month and I'm trying desperately to get out of the hole I'm in so pls stick with me through this shit ily ily ily)
The sun was burning hotter than hell.
I felt like I was simply melting into the chair that I was lounging on, a smile tugging at my lips as I watched my best friend Kelsey play with her cousin Maisy in the water. I had been playing with her all morning and Kelsey finally arrived a few minutes ago to give me a damn break. As much as I loved that little girl, she was a ball of energy that I struggled to keep up with. Especially on days like today when the heat was insane and I was nursing a bit of a hangover.
I slid my sunglasses over my eyes as I turned my head to look around me, searching for any sign of Harry, Maisy’s father. He asked me to come watch Maze this morning so he could get some work done around the ranch and I hadn’t seen him since I first arrived.
Seeing him this morning was the first time since things… progressed between us.
I expected it to be awkward, but he couldn’t keep his smoldering eyes off of me and I could practically feel the desire seeping off his skin for me.
My hand was trembling as I lifted it to knock on the front door, my heart feeling like it might pound right out of my chest. Harry and I hadn’t talked since the other night. When I got his text yesterday, I hoped it would be about seeing me again, but it was only about babysitting. He was his usual self, friendly and short, which made me feel a little confused. Was he going to just pretend that nothing happened?
The door swung open and my eyes dropped to see Maze standing there, wearing a black bathing suit and chomping on a banana. I smiled as the little girl lit up at the sight of me, wrapping her free arm around my legs in a hug.
“You’re here, you’re here! Daddy, she’s here!”
“Hey my little rain cloud. You excited to go swimming?” I asked her, watching her nod and jump on the balls of her feet.
“Excited? She hasn’t shut up about it since I told her yesterday.” Harry’s voice called out, sending a wave of joy right through my body.
“You’re the one who hasn’t shut up about it!” Maisy called back to her father, turning her big eyes up to me in an roll, “He asked me a BILLION times to check the front window for you.”
He walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. Our eyes met and I felt my entire body flush, heat shooting right through me as his eyes took me in slowly. He started from my feet up, drinking in every inch of exposed skin and finally landing on my eyes. He smiled, the wrinkles near his eyes getting a little more pronounced when he did. His own cheeks went slightly pink and I shivered, unable to believe I could make a man like him blush.
“Hi.” I said softly, chewing on my bottom lip to keep the very obvious smile off my face.
“Hey there, honey. You want some pancakes?” He asked, gesturing toward the kitchen.
Maisy groaned at the idea of having to wait for me to eat to get into the pool and I laughed, squeezing her little hand.
“I already ate, but thanks. I better take our little mermaid outside before she just withers away.” I looked back up at him, watching his eyes fly up to meet mine from whatever body part of mine he was ogling.
I’d never felt so good in my own skin before. The way Harry looked at me—like he wanted to devour every inch of my body, like he wanted to consume me—it made my confidence skyrocket. I’d always felt that I was too big to attract anyone, especially after my last boyfriend, who made constant hints about me going to the gym with him. But here was Harry, the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid my eyes on… and he couldn’t keep his off me.
“Of course. Y’all have fun. Holler if you need me.” Harry said, licking his lips as his eyes searched my own.
Maisy tugged me hard, dragging me past him.
“We will.” I replied, silently praying he would reach his hand out and touch me as I passed him, but he didn’t.
I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked away though, stinging like a sunburn after a long day of baking.
I couldn’t stop myself from craning my neck all the way around to look back at the house, desperate for any movement inside that could be Harry. Just as I was ready to slump in my chair with disappointment, he came walking around the side of the house carrying a heavy bag of what looked like soil on his shoulder.
He was dressed in tight jeans and his usual boots, a light gray t-shirt on his body that showed off the sweat stains from how hard he’d been working. My mouth went dry at the thought of licking drops of sweat off of his chiseled body and I had to force my eyes away from him to stop myself.
“Hey Uncle H!” Kelsey called out to him, making me wince at the reminder that this man I was infatuated with was my best friend's literal uncle.
It’s not weird. You only met her two years ago, you’re not a lifelong friend, you didn’t grow up with this man. It’s not weird. I reassured myself silently, nodding to myself in agreement. It wasn’t weird. We met as adults. Sure, there was an age gap but it didn’t bother me. I sighed. I knew it would bother Kelsey, which is where my guilt came from.
“Hey Kels. When did you get here?” He asked her.
My eyes followed him from behind my sunglasses, watching as he threw the bag down to the ground, straightening back out with a quiet little groan. My pussy clenched in desire when I heard that noise and then I was stifling my own fucking moan because Harry was reaching for the hem of his sweaty t-shirt. He peeled the material from his body, exposing his glistening chest and his tight muscles, which flexed every time he moved.
His eyes slid to me as he tucked his shirt into the back of those gloriously tight jeans, his hand reaching up to rub through his sweaty curls slowly. I watched his eyes move down over the expanse of my body, which was stretched out on a lounge chair, sweat pooling in all of my crevices from the hot sun.
“Just got here so our girl could take a breather.” Kelsey laughed, splashing some water in my general direction.
“Yeah, we all know what a terror Miss Maze can be.” I teased, watching the small girl giggle and stick her tongue out at me, which I gave right back to her.
“Anyone hungry yet? I’ll go in and make some sandwiches and lemonade.” Harry offered, moving toward the sliding glass door at the back of his house.
“Yes, please!” Maisy called out, “And Doritos!”
“Yeah, yeah. And Doritos.” He laughed, yanking the door open and stepping into the house, but not before shooting me another look over his shoulder.
My heart was beating so fast that I swore Kelsey and Maze would see it right through my skin. My legs ached to move, to run into the house after him and beg him to take me in the kitchen instead of making lunch. I stayed still as long as I could and then I got up off the chair.
“I’m gonna go see if he needs help.” I called out over my shoulder as nonchalantly as I could.
“See if you can coax him into unlocking that precious liquor cabinet of his! I want some vodka in my lemonade.” Kelsey called out, which made me pause with my hand against the door.
The irony.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I laughed, shaking my head and prying the door open.
The air conditioning was on full blast and I shivered as I crossed the threshold. My nipples went hard under my thin bikini top, goosebumps rising all over my arms and chest. I suddenly realized how nearly naked I was in the bright sunny kitchen and wished I would have thrown at least my shorts on before I came inside. I didn’t understand why I picked the tiniest bikini I owned, the one that showed off all of the dimples and dips in my skin, all of my stretch marks and imperfections.
You picked it because you thought you could seduce him, so get on it! My thoughts taunted me. I pushed them away.
I went to the fridge, yanking the door open to search for the pitcher of lemonade. I moved some things around and got onto the tips of my toes to reach the back of the top shelf where it had been shoved.
“Need some help?”
I jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice, turning around to look at him, nudging the fridge shut as I did so. He was standing right behind me, so close to me that I was surprised I didn’t feel him breathing on my neck. Or hear him come in. I was too busy chastising myself for my exposed skin, the same exposed skin that his eyes were drinking in right now.
He was still shirtless, glistening with sweat despite how freezing cold it was in here. He leaned back against the island behind him, holding a short glass with about an inch or so of amber colored liquor in it. I watched him swirl the liquid around inside the glass slowly before he lifted it to his mouth, tilting it all down his throat in one smooth go.
“Hi.” I said softly, my voice nearly squeaking, “I thought I’d help with lunch.”
His eyes took me in, gliding from my eyes down to my neck, to my chest, to my stomach, all the way past my thighs and to my feet. Then back up… just as slow, his gaze so hot that I swore it was burning every inch of my skin that it covered.
“What are you drinking?” I asked, desperate to fill the silence.
“Honey whiskey.” He smirked at me, letting his eyes graze lower as he continued, “You know how I love all things honey flavored.”
I blushed something fierce, trying to keep my smile as demure as possible as I discreetly positioned the pitcher of lemonade in front of my stomach. Harry’s hand shot out, fingers pressing to it so he could shove it back out of the way, exposing my body to him.
“Sweetheart… you’re being cruel.” He whispered, smiling slowly as he put the glass down behind him.
“Cruel?” I frowned at him, my eyebrows furrowing.
He pushed off the kitchen island, stepping toward me, forcing me to crane my head back to look up at him. I was frozen like a deer in headlights. All I could do was stumble backwards away from him, but I hit the counter behind me with nowhere to go. He took the pitcher of lemonade from my hands and put it down for me.
“I’ve seen you in my pool a hundred times,” He spoke quietly, his arms going to either side of me, locking me in against the counter, “And I’ve never seen you wearing a bikini this small before. Now why’s that?”
“Um,” I swallowed, shrugging, “Maybe it shrank.”
“Or maybe you picked it out knowing that I wouldn’t be able to keep my fuckin’ hands to myself when I saw you in it.” He said, leaning in so close to me that I could feel each word as he breathed them onto my mouth.
“You haven’t touched me yet, so I’d say you—”
His mouth crashed down against mine, hands sliding off the counter to wrap around my waist instead. I could taste the honey whiskey on his mouth. He was hot, so hot, his skin and his mouth and his tongue all feeling like they could burn me. I plunged my hands into his sweaty curls, tugging at them, rubbing my body up against his like a cat in heat.
He moaned against me, his hands slipping down to grasp at every inch of flesh that he could get at. He squeezed at my hips, at the rolls at my sides, at the plump curve of my ass. He pulled me against him so hard that I thought I’d mold into him.
“Harry…” I gasped out as his lips trailed down to my neck, his scruff rough against my delicate skin, “Please…”
“You wore this just to tease me, didn’t you?” He growled out, lifting a hand up to grasp my jaw tightly, prying my mouth open when he did. He popped his thumb into my mouth and I groaned as I sucked on it happily.
His free hand went to my bikini top, yanking the thin material away from my breasts to expose them to the cold air and his warm mouth. He moaned as he swirled his tongue around one of my hardened nipples, his teeth scraping softly around the sensitive skin. I gasped, my hips jutting forward to seek out some sort of friction from him.
“Mmm… you taste so good.” He whispered into my skin, slipping his thumb from my mouth so he could slide his hands down to my outer thighs.
I gasped loudly as he shoved me up onto the counter, spreading my thighs and pressing himself between them. The rough material of his jeans over his hard cock rubbed all over my pussy, making me moan at the friction. He bit down lightly on my sensitive nipple, dragging his hands up over my sides as he found my lips again. I panted into his mouth, eyes fluttering open to find his own staring back at me darkly.
“What am I doing?” He whispered, almost to himself as he slid his hands up my chest to my neck, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
He said the words but his mouth found mine right after, his tongue slick against my own, his hands exploring my body. They went to my hips, pulling at me until my ass was on the edge of the counter. I was desperate for pleasure, rubbing my cunt all over him, grinding against his hard bulge. His fingers gripped at my thighs hard enough to bruise them and I realized that he was matching my movements, just as desperate as I was.
He was panting, shaking his head, but his mouth was still against mine as he murmured, “You’re too young for me.”
“I’m just right for you.” I whispered back, nipping at his bottom lip, watching his mouth fall open, “I’m perfect for you.”
I kissed him again, sliding my tongue against his in a sloppy manner, trembling at the feeling of his hands as they slid to my arms. He squeezed tight and I worried he would push me back, worried that he would stop this. He looked down at me, his eyes heavily-lidded, like he was drunk. I knew he wasn’t, he was just so aroused that he could barely think straight. I knew it because I felt the same.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” He whispered, shaking his head slightly before he pulled me back to his mouth.
I moaned as he dropped his hands back down to my thighs, accepting defeat. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me off the counter like I weighed nothing, my legs automatically wrapping around his waist tightly. I wanted to throw him down on the kitchen floor and ride him right here, but I knew he was taking me somewhere more private. We couldn’t risk being caught.
He carried me into his home office, kicking the door shut behind him quickly. He gripped my waist with one arm as his other one swiped over his desk, shoving anything in his way onto the floor as he sat me down on the edge of it. He yanked his t-shirt out of his pocket and tossed it on the floor as he plopped down into his large leather chair. Our eyes met as he patted his hand against his thigh very lightly.
“Get in my lap.” He breathed out, “You wanna be good for me? C’mere. Get in my lap, sweetheart.”
I nodded eagerly, shifting down into his lap. I straddled him in the chair, my inner thighs squeezing him tightly as I rocked my hips down hard until I felt his cock pressing up against my pussy. I moaned against him at the feeling of him—rock hard under his tight jeans, the friction against my clit sending waves of warmth through my stomach.
“That’s it.” He encouraged me, trailing his mouth away from my own so he could move it down over my neck. He bit the sensitive skin there, sucking it into his mouth until I was sure a red hickey would form. I didn’t know how I’d explain that. I didn’t care to think of it. It felt too good.
I slid my hand up to his throat and pushed him back from my body by it, feeling braver by the second. Our eyes met, his lips swollen from our kisses, open and panting for more. I rolled my hips forward again, watching his eyes squeeze shut at the way I felt against his cock.
“Look at me. Tell me you want me.” I whispered, not a beg or a plea but an order, “Tell me how bad you want my pussy… look at how you’re trembling for it.”
“Fuck,” His hands tightened around my hips, yanking me down even harder into his lap as he jerked his body up to meet it, “I want you, I fucking need your pussy… need that wet, tight pussy gripping my cock. Need to see it, let me…”
He urged me backwards to lean against the edge of his desk, the wood sharp against my spine. I didn’t care. I would have twisted my body into unimaginable positions to give him whatever he wanted. He looked down at my pussy, covered by my small bikini bottoms.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous...” He whispered, rubbing his fingers down over my slit. I wished he would rip them right off my body and feel my bare cunt.
As if he read my mind, he began to tug at the strings that held my bottoms together, his eyes flashing up to mine. I kept my eyes on his, swallowing hard as he unwrapped my pussy like it was a gift. The bottoms fell away from my body and onto the floor, his eyes turning down to look at me as soon as I was bare.
“Honey,” He breathed out, two of his fingers swiping up along my wet slit, shaking his head slightly, “Look how wet you are. You want me this bad? S’fucking pathetic for me, aren’t you?”
He watched my reaction as he showed me his fingers, glistening with my arousal. He offered them to me and I wrapped my lips around them, tasting myself on his skin. I swirled my tongue around his fingers, lapping at them desperately, watching his eyes glisten at me.
“Such a good girl.” He murmured, pulling his fingers back, grasping onto my thighs tightly to yank me back into his lap.
I snuggled down against him, grinding my pussy all over his lap. My eyes fluttered up at the feeling of his hard cock under me, so rock solid for me.
He squeezed my cheeks to force my lips open so he could fuck his tongue into my mouth, moaning as he tasted me. I couldn’t believe how much I was aching from his kisses alone, I was never one to enjoy a sloppy or wet kiss but his were so fucking desperate. It was like he needed to fuck every hole on my body with his tongue, like he had to lick every inch of my mouth and taste every crevice of me before he was satisfied. I’d never felt that desire from anyone and I couldn’t stop shaking from the way it made me feel.
Harry pulled away from the kiss slightly, but I yanked him right back, tasting him the way he just did to me.
“Spit in my mouth.” I whispered against his lips, half-opening my hazy eyes as I repeated myself, “Spit in my mouth.”
His eyes sparkled, “You wanna taste me? Open.”
I gladly did, extending my tongue to him, watching his own as it worked behind his closed lips. His hold on my face turned softer, almost tender as he let his spit slowly dribble down onto my waiting tongue. He wrapped his lips around it right after, sucking on it and pressing his own tongue into my mouth. His free hand grabbed onto my cheeks and made me look down at his lap, squeezing my face tightly.
“Look at the way you’re dripping all over my jeans. Should make you get on your fuckin’ knees and lick it off.” He said, to which I let out a whine and began to nod as much as I could, “Yes? You want to? Use your words, sweetheart.”
He didn’t release my face, he squeezed it harder as he pulled me close to him, his eyes dark as they flickered over me.
“I want to! Please, let me clean it for you. Let me taste you.” I begged him, my fingers desperately reaching under my body for his zipper.
“On your knees.” He ordered me, his strong hands back to gripping my arms as he guided me off his desk and onto the floor in front of him. He gestured to the wet spot I left against the crotch in his jeans and my face went up in flames.
“Lick it.” He whispered, reaching over to curl his fingers into my hair, pulling my head down, “Taste your cunt all over my jeans like a good girl.”
My eyes flashed up to look at him as I carefully slid my tongue along the wet spot in his crotch. He shivered at the sight, shaking his head slightly as I continued to lick across my arousal. The taste of myself mixed with the material of his jeans was sharp, I was surprised and a little embarrassed at how well I could actually taste myself there. I really was dripping for him.
My thighs rubbed together desperately trying to get any friction I could. I was so wet that I was dripping down my thighs and I couldn’t stand another moment of not having his cock in my mouth.
“Need your cock.” I mumbled, looking up at him with pleading eyes. I flattened my tongue along the outline of his hard length through his jeans, feeling his fingers tighten in my hair, “Please, Harry… please, let me make you feel good.”
A strangled sound escaped his mouth as he nodded at me almost violently, his fingers flying down to undo his pants. I thought I would have liked for him to tug those tight jeans down so I could see his thighs, but he didn’t. He only reached in and pulled his hard cock out for me. Something about only being able to see his dripping cock exposed made it feel inherently dirtier, made my entire body buzz with a thrill.
His cock was perfect to me. Not too long, perfectly thick, the head of it flushed dark pink and dripping with precum for me. Thick veins protruded from the sides and throbbed along with his pulse. Harry wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and brought it up in one slow stroke. My mouth watered when more precum dripped out for me, his thumb pressing over his slit so he could spread it around the head.
“Give me that tongue.” He whispered, guiding my face down to his lap as I bared my tongue to him. He tapped the head of his cock against it, letting me taste the slightly salty drops of his arousal. He gasped softly as he did this a few more times and then he pressed his cock into my mouth.
I moaned when I finally tasted him fully, swirling my tongue around the head excitedly, lapping up every drop of him. He tangled his fingers into my hair, urging my face down gently, like he was testing me to see if I could take more. I could. I slid my mouth down until I met his hand which was still wrapped around the base. I pulled back until my lips popped off him and I spit onto his cock, watching my saliva slowly drip down to his fist.
“Fuck. Fuck, baby…” He gasped out, sliding his hand up over his shaft once again, helping to spread my spit all over it, “You’re such a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”
I smiled as I slid my mouth back down around his cock, urging his hand to move away so I could take him all the way. He pressed into my throat, feeling the resistance, but I forced past it until I could feel his cock at the back of it. I held him there for a moment, held him there until he started to jerk his hips up, clearly needing to fuck something. I nodded around him and his hands were suddenly on either side of my head and he began to roughly fuck up into my face, slamming me down onto his cock over and over.
“God!” He cried out, pulling my mouth off of him as quickly as he started. I was panting heavily and drooling, dumb for his cock. He held me very still as he looked away from me, trying his hardest to hold his orgasm back.
I let out a whine, my hands going down to slip between my thighs so I could touch my aching clit finally. He stopped me before I could even get near my cunt. He reached for me, pulling me back until I was sitting on the edge of his desk once again. He stood in front of me, angling himself between my spread legs.
Harry trailed his large hand down over my chest, yanking my bikini top down once more to expose my breasts. He pinched each of my nipples and then his head dove forward so he could wrap his lips around them, sucking them hard. His teeth grazed over my sensitive skin and I nearly screamed at the pleasure I was feeling.
“Harry, please!” I cried out, my hips rolling against nothing, seeking some sort of pleasure out. I was humping the air, that’s how desperate I had become for him.
“How wet are you for me now? Show me.” He whispered, his voice so calm despite the way he was shaking as he pulled back from his assault on my breasts. “Spread those fucking legs… oh, honey… fuck.”
I leaned back on my elbows, spreading my thighs as wide as I could to show off my glistening cunt. His hand moved to begin stroking his cock again as he looked down at me. His eyes were heavy-lidded and black with lust, his pupils so blown out that all the green had disappeared.
“Touch yourself.” He said, biting down on his bottom lip to stifle a moan as I obeyed, my fingers slipping down to my cunt.
I scissored my fingers in a V shape, spreading my swollen lips open so he could see how absolutely dripping I was before I slid those fingers down to thrust them inside of myself.
I was so drunk with lust and the need to come that I couldn’t even focus on putting on a show for him the way I would have liked. I could only press my fingers into my slippery cunt and feel how soaking wet I was as I pressed the heel of my palm into my clit. I began to shake at the pleasure that rolled through me, the only sounds being of our heavy panting and my wet pussy gushing as I fucked myself with my fingers.
Harry couldn’t look away from me, but he was shaking his head, like he was fighting some inner demons about what we were doing here in his office with his family right outside.
“Fuck it. I’m going to hell anyways.” He breathed out, and then he was wrapping his hand around my wrist and yanking me forward by it.
He brought my fingers up to his mouth, shiny with my arousal, and I watched him guide my fingertips over his lips slowly. I could feel his cock pressing against my entrance below us and I quickly adjusted myself a little to give him easier access. Neither of us moved for a moment, both knowing that we shouldn’t be doing this but unable to stop ourselves.
I made the first move this time. I pushed my fingers into his mouth at the same time that his cock sank slowly into my tight cunt. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as he sucked at my fingers in a greedy manner, his hands moving to grip at my waist. I knew there would be bruises on my hips tomorrow in the shapes of his fingers, but I didn’t care. I wanted a reminder of him.
His hands gripped onto me tightly and he didn’t let me do any work. He just held me still while he thrusted forward into my cunt roughly, causing me to cry out in pleasure. He dropped his forehead against mine, his eyes flashing down to meet mine.
“Do I taste good?” I asked him as I slid my wet fingers out of his mouth, moving them to grip his jaw in my hand, “Let me taste.”
It was his turn to offer his tongue to me and I slid my own against it, slipping it around in a swirling motion as I pressed it back into his mouth. I could taste my cunt there, the musky, feminine taste of my arousal so familiar to me. I moaned into him as my tongue went wild, licking at every crevice of his mouth. He began to fuck me even harder, his cock stretching me open and making me feel like I was being split into two.
I had to pull back from the kiss to moan and cry out, my hands reaching out for something to steady myself on. One hand wrapped around the edge of his desk, the other tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Harder… make it hurt…” I whimpered out loudly, “Fuck!”
“Shh.” He slammed his hand over my mouth, “Quiet for me, baby. Quiet. Can’t let anyone know what a delicious little fucktoy I have in here. Mine, mine, mine…”
I whined into his palm, nodding my head vigorously. Yes, I was his. I was his this whole time. I’d be his forever if he wanted me that long. I tried to move, tried to match his thrusts, but he wouldn’t let me. He was in control of my body, he owned it, he was going to use me like a toy. Fucktoy, he called me. I enjoyed it more than I ever imagined I would.
“You’re perfect, so perfect… your cunt is a fuckin’ dream.” He panted out, slamming his body into me harder and harder, “Touch yourself. I want you to feel you come around my cock.”
I gripped onto his shoulder with one hand to steady myself as I slid the other between my thighs. He cursed softly as I started to rub my clit in quick circles. I moaned against his palm, feeling myself start to drool from how fucked out I was.
I was weak, his cock slamming into me hurt so good and I couldn’t keep holding myself up. I fell back against the desk, his hand falling from my mouth as I did. The new angle made his cock press right up against my g-spot and I couldn’t stop the sob from escaping my mouth at how deliciously good it felt.
“My little crybaby slut, shh…” Harry murmured to me, reaching a hand down to wipe my tears, “I know it feels so fucking good, honey… I know. You’re doing so good for me. Taking every inch of my cock… fuck, you feel incredible.”
“I’m gonna come,” I whimpered out, “can’t hold it…”
“Just a little longer, just a…” He gasped out, “Tell me… tell me how bad you want me…”
I whined, feeling my stomach tighten up as my orgasm built faster and faster, “So fucking bad… I touch myself every night thinking about you. Dream about the way your cock felt inside of me, splitting me open l-like… like it is right now, fuck! Harry, please, please let me come, I’ll be so good for you…”
Harry’s eyes flashed and his thrusts became that of an animalistic nature, like he had snapped and lost all grip on reality, “Come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”
His thrusts were so feral that his desk actually moved, it rocked back a foot or so with force. I couldn’t stop to focus on it as my orgasm finally hit its peak and washed over me. My vision blurred and blackened as I came harder than I ever thought was possible, so hard that I felt as if I were seeing stars. I was shaking viciously as my cunt gushed once again, this time wetting his bare chest and his jeans much more than it did the last time.
“Oh god,” He moaned at the sight, reaching his hand between us so he could start to rub my clit in quick, harsh circles, “Give me one more.”
“I… I can’t…” I gasped out, shaking my head, but I was lying. I could. I could feel it start to build as soon as he touched my clit, but I was so sensitive that it almost hurt.
“You can and you will.” He ordered me, his hand moving faster, pressing down hard, “C’mon, princess. Come for me, show me how good you can be.”
“Fuck!” I cried out, my eyes flashing open to look down as I came once more, his hand working quick circles through my entire second orgasm.
I had to reach down to wrap my hand around his wrist and stop him, holding him still as I twitched and squirted a little more. He thrusted into me only a few more times, his mouth claiming my own so I would muffle the sound of his moaning. He was so vocal, all slow moans and heavy breaths as he came hard. His hands slid over the sides of my body, groping at my sweaty skin as he pulled me into a sitting position. Our bare chests pressed together as his tongue massaged mine.
My legs were trembling as I dropped them from where they were locked around his waist. His large hands moved over my shoulders and down my back, feeling over my spine. I didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. It made my entire body feel alive. I clung to him a little tighter, wishing I could rewind and relive this moment again and again and again.
Harry held my face in his hands as he pulled back to look at me, running his thumbs across the apples of my cheeks.
“You’re all burnt.” He smiled, his voice low, “Didn’t your parents ever tell you to wear sunscreen?”
“No. You wanna play daddy and teach me?” I lifted an eyebrow to him, tilting my face further into his palm.
“Don’t be bad now.” He shook his head, smiling brighter and lowering his lips to mine, “Not after showing me how good you are…”
He kissed me a moment longer before pulling back, reaching out a hand to pull a handful of tissues from the box that thankfully hadn’t been pushed onto the ground in our passionate state. He breathed out a quiet sigh as he pulled out of me, pressing the tissues against me to stop the spill of his semen from dripping out.
I eyed him as he straightened himself out, zipping up his jeans as he reached down for my bikini bottoms from the floor. He examined them, looking confused by the many strings, as if he intended to figure them out and dress me himself. I shot him a gentle smile as I took them from him to do it on my own.
“So…” He started to say, his heavy gaze on me as I pulled my bikini back into place, tightening the strings and adjusting my top.
“So…” I repeated, giving him a look, watching him rub a hand over his face with a soft curse.
“Are you…” He broke off, his hand working to the back of his neck as he looked at me sheepishly, “Are you seeing anyone right now?”
“Hmm?” I cocked my head in confusion, “Like dating? No… nope. Not dating anyone.”
“You’re not going out with that Jace Matthews kid?” He asked, a skeptical look on his face.
“Jace?” I blurted out, my face heating, “No. I mean… no, we just fooled around a little.”
Harry’s face hardened, his voice dark, “Last night?”
“No!” My eyebrows knitted together.
“Sam mentioned he saw you out with him last night… I just assumed.” He shrugged a shoulder, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
Sam Davis. One of Harry’s closest friends and probably the only person who knows how he actually feels about me. Maze told me how she overheard the two of them talking about my ‘honey’ and she thankfully confused it with me keeping bees. I didn’t know how I was going to produce a beehive for her if she ever actually insisted on seeing them.
“Oh.” I straightened up, a lightbulb going off in my head. He was jealous. I relaxed with a soft smile, “God, no. Jace is old news, we just have some mutual friends now. I haven’t… there isn’t anyone else but you.”
“Good.” He whispered to me, leaning up against the door behind him, his eyes flickering over my face.
My face went up in flames again. I was grateful for the sunburn on my cheeks, praying that it was helping to disguise how often this man seemed to make me blush. He had a real talent for it.
“What about you and that vet? Isobel, right?” I asked him, remembering the amount of times I watched in envy as he flirted with the pretty veterinarian who came to take care of his horses.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he shook his head, “We had some sparks at one point, I guess. But not now. Not anymore.”
He reached behind his body and popped the door open, pushing it out so I could pass him and head back to the kitchen. We’d been gone so long that Maze and Kelsey would certainly expect a gourmet lunch instead of sandwiches and Doritos. I hoped she wouldn’t question me about it later.
“And what about me?” I asked him as I stepped forward, getting closer to him, “Do you feel sparks with me?”
We stared at one another for a long, intense moment. He shifted forward, pressing his body against mine, trapping me between him and the door frame. His arms slid easily around my waist and his eyes were smoldering as they met my own. I thought he might kiss me again and send us both into another sexual frenzy, but he just leaned in close. He lightly glided the tip of his nose along the side of my face, inhaling my scent.
“Not sparks, honey.” Harry murmured, his lips brushing over my cheek and toward my ear, “Wildfires.”
#harry styles smut#harry styles fanfic#hs smut#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut oneshot#harry styles fic#londonbelow#rancher!harry#dad!harry
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Sleepy König (hcs)
This man is a little bitch when he's tried, fight me.
Also shat this out in 10 minutes sooo 🤷♀️
Pairing: König (COD) x neutral reader
Genre: hcs, fluff
Warnings: swearing
Sleepy König is pretty mean. It’s funny to you now that you get his dark, sarcastic humour but it was a shock at first.
Saying that, it’s funny to see other’s reactions to it. On the rare occasion he lets a comment slip around people outside a battle royal situation, he’s usually met with a brief silence and wide eyes as his teammates try to comparand whatever complex roast he just spurted out.
Like when he’s drunk, König gets way more talkative when tired. Whatever anxiety blocking his words is completely gone. If König’s comfortable he will just go off for hours about anything, switching topics every five seconds and half the time it won’t even make sense.
Is that “did you know” bastard that makes you pause the movie while he goes on a random info dump.
You’ve been witness to many late night wiki deep-dives because of this. They’re pretty fun, actually.
Loves to burrito himself in blankets and keeps several around the house for this reason. It’s something his Mam would do to him as a kid when he was anxious or couldn’t sleep and now it’s a habit he’s not willing to give up.
And he will get you into the burrito with him and no you won’t be moving for hours. And if he’s homesick, good luck.
Eats everything in sight. Even if he doesn’t like it; it’s food, its energy and energy makes him feel less tired.
You’ve seen König eat some strange ass things at midnight. You’re still haunted by his banana, marmite, and bacon sandwich.
Going off this, König is a little bitch when he’s tired. He refuses to admit he’s sleepy even though he clearly is. He could be sat on the sofa like a dad; arms crossed, eyes drooping, leg bouncing at a last ditch attempt to keep him awake and he’ll still refuse to come to bed because he’s “fine” and wants to finish the last bit of the movie.
If you’re out with friends he’ll try and refrain from being a little bitch but will do anything to convince you to give in for the night and go home with him.
You’ve never met a hotter human being. The window needs to be open and even then, he’ll still sleep with one leg sticking out the blanket or the blankets will be drenched in sweat by the morning.
Has to be the big spoon, it’s none negotiable. Not even because of his height, he just loves keeping you in a death grip. Not that you’ll ever complain.
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bts fic recommendations | 03.14.23
→ hi friends! this is a little segment i do every tuesday (reviewsday get it, aren’t i funny, pls tell me how funny i am) where i read and review two-three fics. as a content creator, i know how big of a role other creators play in your growth, therefore, i want to do my part in making sure everyone gets the recognition they deserve! so with that being said, please check out the amazing fics listed below. make sure to like, reblog, and leave feedback! ♡ #reviewsday #kikirecs
banana clip - @vvh0adie (jhs x jjk x reader | angst, fluff, smut)
summary: nature is great at putting you to sleep. but man-made objects are just as good at waking you up with annoyance. and they’re even better at messing with your senses overall. but nature also made the two most wonderful men who you get to call your boyfriends, and they know just how to comfort you.
for one, let me just say this graphic goes crazy eep!!!
also let me just say, you would write a mean fantasy fic bc the scene setting in the first segment is so good. YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT WORLD BUILDING?? YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT WORLD BUILDING???? YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT MAKING THE SETTING REFLECT THE CHARACTER??? THIS IS IT!!
also i think the representation in the fic is so fucking important like- to have the reader be queer, chubby, and neurodivergent and then depicting in detail the things that come along with it is really great!! especially bc so many young adults read fanfic and thats such a complex time where you're juggling different parts of your identity and how they coexist!! just seriously thank you for writing this!!
"His large hands make haste of grabbing as much of your ass as he possibly can and giving it a good squeeze, oil slick painted nails leaving crescent indentation on your melanated skin. The succulent pain causes a moan to escape your lips. You always knew how to break them down, but he could play too."
oof when i tell u i read this paragraph multiple fucking times bc YOU PICKED OIL SLICK NAIL HOBI I COULD DESTROY MY FUCKING ROOM RN LMAO
“Ah, fuck, it’s times like these when I remember how much of a slut you are.”
dom hobi rattles the fucking peanut in my skull bc i know for a fact that man is the kinkest dom sex freak out here PLS!!! and the mentions of kook throughout made everything incredibly hotter like uGh!! and then i really love when sweet aftercare n cleaning up is added into fanfic after a dommy moment :') <3 overall, this was the hottest shit ever pls fucking read this yall NOW I SAY NOW LMAO!!
paired & pierced - @yoon-kooks (jjk x reader | college au, smut, fluff)
summary: when your professor assigns a collaborative midterm project, you’re paired up with jeon jungkook, the quiet grumpy smartass who keeps to himself and doesn’t fuck with popular kids like you. if you can win him over, he might give you a taste of the tatted and pierced body he’s carefully tucked away beneath those oversized hoodies.
so as soon as i saw that pairing i knew i was a goner!! but babe, this fic made me discover kinks i didn't even know i had like erm?? CAWK TATTOO??? OF A SNAKE???
I HAVE A NEW FETISH LMAO!!! thats like one of the hottest visuals i've ever read in fanfic and it will plague my daydreams from here on out!
where does one find a friend like oc who hooks you up with men like JUNG HOSEOK ?? she is so real for that (one is incredibly lonely despite having friends and never gets checked on by those around her unless they need something which i feel like is so relatable to so many people like i can totally tell why so many readers were drawn to this fic)!! and tim can catch this knuckle sandwich bc FUCK HIM >:(
also the newborn joke made me audibly crack up like the bleak dry humor is fucking hilarious to me-
and i just love their dynamic? like the way you wrote their dialogue is just so natural, which seems simple on the outside but as fic writer i understand that writing believable dialogue is so INSANELY difficult like you literally have to be an a1 writer to nail it as good as you did in this fic!! the talent is screaming!! same goes for the smut!! it was so fucking hot and everything kook said had my coochie wet pls!! i just love the switch for apathetic to complete sex god uGh! i love u n this saur fucking much!!
nature cafe - @virgodolls (jjk x reader | s2l)
oh my goodness i love this so much! like when you told me you were a new writer on here i was already extremely excited, but after reading this, my excitement for your future works has doubled, TRIPLED! you are bringing something new and refreshing to the table! like don't get me wrong i looooveee smut (legit all i write is smut-) but slice of life content is kind of hard to find on this platform! so reading this was such a welcomed change and i loved it wholeheartedly!
you really have a knack for writing in the perspective of the character, which is not an easy thing to do AT ALL! ITS SO DIFFICULT! AND YOU EXECUTED IT SO FLAWLESSY HERE AND ITS ONLY YOUR FIRST FIC? PLS THE TALENT IS UNREAL!!
i also really loved this oc! as someone who is also v sensitive and easily overwhelmed, i didn't find her annoying at all, just incredibly endearing and relatable! THIS JUNGKOOK IS ALSO SUCH BOYFRIEND MATERIAL AND SO SWEET LIKE IM TRYING TO PICK HIM UP TOO UM??? anyways, thank you for sharing your writing! its definitely so scary at first but you did it and you should be v proud of yourself!! i am proud of you!!
#reviewsday#kikirecs#bts jungkook#bts hoseok#jeon jungkook#jung hoseok#bts hobi#jungkook smut#j hope#j hope x reader#jungkook x reader#hoseok smut#hoseok x reader#jungkook fanfic#hoseok fanfic#bts#bts smut#bts fanfic
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Chocolate-Banana Smoothie
Masterpost || Stranger Things Masterlist
Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Summary: Y/N is having a crummy shift at the Smoothie Groove, a smoothie shop in Starcourt Mall. She takes out her built up frustration on the next customer to come through their doors, only to realise to late that it was Hawkins High’s former king..
Notes/Anything Else: This is a repost for the third time because I’ve given up on trying to make writing only blogs, so now have them on my main ! Slight CW for more ~Spicy~ thoughts for Y/N. Bro re-reading this makes me cringe so freaking much lmao, but hey, it’s not to bad
Growing up in Hawkins isn’t easy, specially when your family hasn’t got the biggest of bank going around.
That’s why you picked up a job at the Starcourt mall, freshly opened in Hawkins, the next big thing to keep the town from becoming the poor, hell hole your family keeps saying it will.
It’s a Wednesday afternoon, middle of the summer holidays and you’re serving up smoothies one after the other.
The blonde girl “Layla ?” you think her name is, is currently chatting up an another man, around his late 20’s, while you mangle everything around the place. It’s pointless, really, Layla’s already gotten down two buttons on her uniform and the man is barely keeping focus on what she’s saying. Why bother?
Over frustration, hearing another “ding!” from the front door made your eye twitch harshly. You walk to the front counter and pick up your order notebook without looking at the customer.
“Welcome to Smoothie Groove, where all your groovy combinations become a reality. Unless you’re the 10th person today asking for a banana and chocolate large combo, that shit isn’t even good!”
You start off as usual, but you break the happy-go lucky mechanical greeting when the day catches up to you. As well as a killer headache. Your mind fuzzed and you just want to go back home and sleep.
“… I wasn’t planning on it..?”
You looked up, eye wide and pupils small, as you take in that voice.
That voice, the one you hear in Mr Natwholey geography class, laughing in the back with his friends. The one you hear in the hallway shouting on a walkie-talkie to some kids.
Mr Steve Harrington, the once king of Hawkins, had a usual look of alluring smugness on his bright face. Not at this moment. No, his freckled face has been startled and his eyes had gone wide with a half surprise smirk to top it off.
“Oh, shit. Um, so sorry sir. I’m not in the best mood today.. what could I get you?” You try and fix the awkward mess you created, the pride you have left is shrinking ever so slightly while doing so.
Steve scans your face, silently, giving an eyebrow raise before turning his attention to the Smoothie Groove menu above the counter. Coloured creamy white and a sickly, sugary sweet pink, a colour you are sick at seeing.
He takes his time with choosing, his eyes scanning from left to right and vice versa. Every so often he’ll stop at a spot and look at it for a moment before continuing down the rows of the basic menu.
You take this time and covertly move your eyes down. ‘Nothing creepy!’ You tell yourself. It’s just that his harsh blue and white sailor uniform sticks out like a sore thumb, specially in the creamy white & sickly pink set up you have going on for yourself.
Your eyes stop at his blue shorts, you can just see the skin part, without moving forward and bending your head down. Your mind thinks back to the longing stares you gave him geography, or the quick glances in the halls. You feel yourself getting hotter, pulling at the hems of your shirt. Why can’t he just take it-
“I’ve made up my mind.” He says. You snap your head back up, clenching your notebook like your god damn life depends on it. You pull your lips into a strained, yet polite, smile.
“Alright sir, what will it be?” You ask, your voice honeyed over, hoping your cheeks aren’t the same colour of your, honestly, tacky uniform. Your heart is beating faster, as if it’ll burst out of chest like the alien did in, well, Alien.
Scanning Steve’s face, your desperate for any sign that he didn’t notice. Your hope fading though. He just had a smile, showing all his teeth. He’s eyes are underlined with something else, not just a polite look.
“One small strawberry shortcake, extra white chocolate, two medium peachy-cherries & I’ll get a banana chocolate. If that’s alright.” His voice was content, keeping that toothy smile, that you’re having so many mixed feelings with.
Your eye twitched as your wrote down the order. Chewing the inside your cheek to stop yourself from making a snapping complaint. Settle on passive aggressive instead.
“You can’t make anything easy, Steve Harrington?”
“Hey, it’s a good combo Y/N L/N. Why do you think people get it often?”
You roll your eyes as Steve pulls out his wallet. You finish writing down the order, your face burning.
“That’ll be $17.50. Card or cash?” You rip the paper from the others and put the pen and notepad down.
“Cash… this should be good.” Steve hands you the bills and some coins. You stretch out your hand to take them, in turn making contact with his fingers for a split second. You can tell just how soft they are by a slight touch.
“I’ll be back in two shakes with your order.” You gleefully pull a soft smile on, as you turn and head to the kitchen in the back. Putting on your best acting you can muster before crumbling to pieces.
“I’ll be counting on it!” You hear him call, that smile being present in every word.
You return 5 minutes later. All the drinks on a cardboard tray as you use your hip to open the door.
“Order for Steve!” You call as you make your way back to the register.
When you look up, you meet the same brown eyes as before, getting closer as Steve strides his legs towards you.
Your heart is beating fast. You can’t help but watch his hair bounce softly and his neckerchief outlining his chest. ‘More than intended’ you think to yourself. You straighten yourself out, drinks in hand.
Steve steps up to the counter and looks at your face for a moment, his face turns delighted as he stares at you a little longer than 2 seconds. His gaze making you panic slightly. ‘Is it obvious?’
He blinks and turns to look down at the four smoothies he ordered.
“These look great.” He takes the banana chocolate, from the top left of the cardboard, and uses his other hand to hold the platter of drinks. The joy in his voice makes you giddy.
Steve takes a sip of his banana-choc combo, you watch as his adam’s apple goes up and down at every gulp. He softly gasped as he took his mouth of the straw and eyes the drink, putting it straight to his face.
“This is why people are getting the banana chocolate, it’s so good!” He takes another sip. When he took his mouth off the straw again, he made a pop.
“Made by a good looking smoothie worker as well.” Steve conducted, his face coy as he turned to walk out. You stop in your tracks, putting your arms out onto the counter to keep you steady.
“Meet me at Scoops Ahoy! Anytime!” He calls as he pushes the door with his side, walking out as the bell at the top dinged.
You’re a hot, blushing mess. Not only did Steve, fucking, Harrington told you to meet him at any time, but he could you good looking. You bite your lip as you turn and head to the kitchen and or break room.
‘Maybe banana chocolate isn’t as bad as I thought..’
#loo fics#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things x gender neutral reader#stranger things x gn reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington x gender neutral reader#steve harrington x gn reader#gender neutral reader#gn!reader
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Fields of Tulips - two
09 Soap x F!reader
All warnings are on the title page of this series
Chapter one
Synopsis - after a shaky first meeting with Captain McTavish, it’s time to meet your team.
A/N - Ghost and Gaz are based off 2022 MW, I prefer their characters/character models to 2009 MW2
Monday morning came round fast, your alarm buzzed at 6am and boy did it feel good to be back on base. To hear the dull drumming of boots on the linoleum floor, the laughs and banter from fellow soldiers filled the hallways.
Stretching your cramped legs you pushed your reoccurring dream to the back of your mind. There was no way it was about to impact on your first day. A new start. A new team. A new mission. It was exactly what you needed. Sheets were drenched, again, rolling your eyes you trudged towards the shower. Hoping the hot water would provide some solace from your lingering thoughts.
Make it hot … burn yourself … you’ll never be clean … they died because of you … you’re gonna fail today … worthless … pathetic
You did make the water hotter, the light sting of the liquid was enough to silence the thoughts that ravaged you. Every waking hour. Every fucking second.
Stepping out the shower you glare at your reflection in the mirror. You looked tired, a little gaunt even. A scar ran down the left side of your body …
Adam’s’ body led huddled into your chest, the fuselage of the plane dug into your torso, into your abdomen. Blood dripped from the open wound into a small puddle beneath you. It smelt strongly of iron.
You shook your head, and tried to focus on your next task. As you brushed your teeth the repetitive motion lulled you into a trance, up and down, left and right …
Your eyes were heavy, a sharp stinging pain raged within your body as you tried to move. The metal creaked and moaned above you, you tried to scream but no sound came.
Tears stung your eyes as you spat the toothpaste into the sink. ‘Fuck’ you whispered to yourself. Today cannot be a bad day. But it will be. Focusing on your breathing you counted to four, imagining a box. In for four, out for four. Trying desperately to cling onto your sanity, to cling onto normality.
- - - -
After you’d managed to get dressed you walked to the canteen, it was still pretty early so it should have been quiet. Except it wasn’t. The canteen was a bustling hive of activity, soldiers sipping coffee, scoffing eggs into their mouths ready for the day a head.
Keeping your head down you tried to keep to yourself, not to being any attention to yourself.
It lasted all of 2 minutes.
You felt something hit your back, something soft and moist. Whipping around you saw a soggy old banana skin at your feet, part of its rotten membrane coated your hoodie. Sighing you heard a chorus of sniggers and giggles coming from one of the tables.
You marched over, furious at the audacity of the person who threw it at you. As you approached you saw a group men eyeing you up and down. A lamb to the slaughter.
‘No one wants you here, Adams died cause of you.’ His voice full of venom penetrated your feeble armour. ‘Fuck you!’ You shouted, fists shaking from pure fury. The man slammed his fists on the table, the thud echoed in the canteen instantly silencing the busy conversations.
Within an instant he had you by the collar and shoved you up against the concrete wall. ‘Fuck you say to me? Fuckin murderer. Should have been you who died on that plane.’ His face contorted with sheer malice, spitting his words at you. You kept your voice low ‘I said fuck you.’
He slammed your back into the wall again causing your head to bounce off it. ‘I’ll fuckin end you, stupid bitch.’ Feeling your anger overflow you spat in his face, a smug grin spreading over your lips. The man wound his arm back ready to lay into you, fist clenched, veins protruding.
As he swung you managed to duck just in time, as you ducked you tackled him to the floor. The canteen erupted in a throng of cheers and chants, encouraging a fight to happen between the two of you. You managed to get a lucky punch in, your knuckles connected with the soft cartilage in his nose.
A grinding and popping noise rang out as blood started to stream from his nose. Just as you were about to swing again a forearm wrapped around your waist lifting you effortlessly. They placed you over their shoulder and stormed out of the canteen. Staring at the solider on the floor you flipped him off smiling at your lucky win.
As you entered the corridor you began pounding on the back of your captor. ‘Put me down! Who the fuck do you think you are?!’ You were taken into a small office, the door slammed behind you as you were thrust onto the floor.
Straightening up you were finally able to see who had taken you. Oh fuck. Of course. ‘Captain’ you said meekly, instantly withdrawing into your shell. You were fucked and you knew it.
‘You wanna tell me what the fuck that was?’ He asked standing over you, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. His face was stoic, not giving anything away but his voice was stern, he was pissed. You’ve done it now, see? Can’t do anything right. It really should have been you on that plane.
Brushing yourself off you chewed your cheek ‘he started it! He threw a mouldy banana at me!’
‘So you thought the correct thing to do was to tackle him to the floor and break his nose?’
‘Bastard deserved it. Told me I should have died in the plane.’
Soap pinched his brow and sighed heavily. ‘Alright, maybe he did deserve it, but it doesn’t give you the right to assault him. You aren’t judge jury and executioner.’
‘Oh? And what would you have done if you were me?’ You scoffed, crossing your arms. Mirroring his stance.
‘We ain’t talking about me lass.’
‘No that’s right. I’m the one who has to put up with this. I’m the one who was in that plane crash. I’m the one who sees their fucking faces every day, every time I close my eyes. Me. So excuse me if the way I stick up for myself is a little unconventional.’ Your chest was heaving. Who the fuck did he this he was?
Feeling tears start to sting behind your eyes you quickly darted around Soap. He tried to reach out for you but you pushed his hand away. ‘Don’t. I’ll see you in the gym.’ He dropped his hand and nodded, letting you leave.
Tulips. Think of the tulips.
———
After eventually calming yourself down you traipsed towards the gym, eyes still damp from your tears. Massaging your face you tried to calm yourself. The sound of punches and bare feet on mats sounded from behind the closed door.
This was it. Time to meet your new team mates.
Slipping into the gym you kept your hood up and slid onto one of the benches. Ok the mats were two men, one was a rather handsome young man. Young freshly shaven, a cheeky smile and a fantastic pair of legs. The other was a mountain of a man, broad and solid, he wore a mask with a crudely painted skull on it.
Soap and Price were talking amongst themselves as the two men beat the shit out of one another. You sat with your arms crossed, impressed at how nimble and fast they both were. Their movements were hypnotising, fluid. Each counter attack carefully calculated and executed, it was as if they were dancing with one another.
You were so lost in the performance before you that you didn’t notice Soap sit next to you. ‘You alright kid?’ He asked leaning on bis thighs. Sighing you took your hood down, biting on your thumb. ‘Yeah I guess. I’m not sorry for what I said, but I’m sorry for yelling at you.’
‘I get it. No need to apologise, but you should see someone. Just talk, see how you feel.’
‘I … I don’t know if I can.’
He remained still, mulling over your words. You felt as if he knew what you were going through, his tone was gentle. He wasn’t probing, he wasn’t being nosey, it seemed like he cared. A feeling you weren’t used to anymore. Maybe once upon a time, but not now.
‘I know. It’s tough. You can’t let it consume you though. You’ll lose yourself in it … trust me’ he half heartedly smiled at you. ‘Just think about it?’
You tried to smile back, but it came out as a grimace. ‘Yeah I guess I’ll try.’
‘Atta girl. Now, wanna come meet yah team? They been wanting to meet you.’
He led you over to the two men who were taking a break, the man with the mask regarded you closely. Eyeing you up and down as he drank the water from his scuffed bottle. ‘This is Ghost. Sniper, don’t mind the mask he’s an ugly fucker underneath.’ Ghost? Fitting. He’s got soap a glare but the corner of his eyes creased, clearly hiding a smile.
‘And this is Gaz. Chopsy, so don’t let him give you a hard time. But he’s one hell of solider.’ Gaz laughed, showing brilliant white teeth and a killer smile. ‘Nice to meet you love. Think you’re ready to settle in with us?’
You smiled up at him, he instantly put you at ease, his face was so kind. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘Boys this is Sargent Dunn. Sniper and demolitions expert.’
‘Demolitions eh? Gonna give cap the run for his money then?’ Gaz smiled, clearly trying to get a rise out of Soap.
‘You didn’t say you were in demolitions too sir’ you asked peering up at him.
‘Aye. Could probably teach you a thing or two.’ Fucker was getting smart.
‘Mmmm we’ll see. You don’t have the woman’s touch though. That I can guarantee.’
Gaz and Ghost both chuckled at your retort. ‘Oh and what would the woman’s touch be?’ He asked, head cocked, eyebrow raised. Holding his gaze you smiled ‘I always know where to find the on button.’ Soap smiled down at you, his normally stoic serious demeanour slipped for just a second. Gaz and Ghost let out a roar of laughter, you finally felt welcome. You felt no judgement after what happened.
It didn’t feel like home quite yet but maybe one day it could be.
———
A/N - fuckin hell this took ages to write lmfao I think the writers block is lifting. I PRAY
Taglist - @deadbranch @brewed-pangolin @luminousbeings-crudematter @abbsaura @moniheartz @tiredmetalenthusiast @cathnoneofyourbusiness @alittlefansthings @lumineyee @all-good-things-have-an-ending @mintttchi @whore4dilfs @unforgettabie
#call of duty#john soap mactavish#captain mctavish#john mctavish#captain john mactavish#09 soap#soap call of duty#soap#soap modern warfare#soap x reader#soap mctavish x reader#soap cod#soap mctavish x you#john soap mctavish x reader#slow burn#series
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what I learned from my time exercising as a 260-280 pound 6'1" guy. I know this is all obvious stuff to most but it really all is as important as they say and sometimes you think you can just do whatever because you never had problems before, but I learned the hard way!
BREATHE - you keep your heartrate down and exercise doable by controlling your breathing. I didn't completely understand how important it was and almost passed out a few times (scary) because I was either unconsciously holding my breath during situps or not inhaling during the right *part* of the exercise, etc. Inhale during the tough part of the exercise!
I've always heard to breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth, with the emphasis being that the more often air is in your lungs on the inhale, the better (within reason obv). I have found that it doesn't always work when trying to drop my heartrate after heavy exercise. What seems to work best for me is a deep inhale and release followed by a "normal" inhale and release. When I keep doing deep inhales, my heartrate tends to increase. I gotta remember that the intent is to slow the breathing while getting adequate oxygen.
DRINK WATER BEFORE AND AFTER EXERCISING - Being hydrated affects your heartrate. I didn't hydrate enough once and my heartrate just would not come down at all after a workout. I didn't feel necessarily thirsty and started feeling tense and shaky, but once I drank some water, it came down almost immediately.
DONT OVERDO IT - Having a heart/pulse tracking device or fitness band is important. You always want to know where your heartrate is, as well as your levels of heart exertion. Most fitness bands have this broken into 4 or 5 heartrate stages. Even if you feel physically able to do the exercise at max hr, you shouldn't work in your highest exertion level for too long. You may feel discouraged and tempted to push yourself if your heartrate is struggling to do something that you've been able to do comfortably before or regularly before, but you shouldn't! It doesn't matter because there are often OTHER FACTORS AT PLAY. You could be more tired today, it could be hotter or more humid where you're working out, etc. There are other reasons you might not consider and it doesn't necessarily mean you've gotten weaker/more out of shape, so don't worry about it and ease up on the intensity to slow your heartrate down to a reasonable level
STRETCH - Warming up before a workout is important to prepare your muscles for stretching. I typically do treadmill and do calf stretches for 1 minute each.
SALT MANAGEMENT - Too much salt in a meal after a workout makes me tense and "jumpy". Like restless legs and cramps. It causes me trouble sleeping too. I've found that potassium helps. Raisins are a really concentrated form of potassium that cuts into the effects of / helps process salt. Potatoes, yogurt, and bananas work too. You can also take a potassium or magnesium supplement. If I feel a cramp coming on, I take a magnesium tablet and it gets rid of it.
EXPERIMENT - I was doing treadmill 3 days in a row regularly for almost a year and my doc told me I should be resting the day after doing treadmill once. When I finally took his advice, it was harder to exercise because I had let my body rest and it felt like I had to get back into "workout mode" again. But when I exercised 2 consecutive days, it was always easier the second day because I was riding the wave of energy I got from that first round. I don't know if there's something to what he was saying or not, but I found that it doesn't work that well for me. I have been trying different schedules of exercise since taking his advice disrupted my groove. I did 2 days on, 1 day resting, 1 day on, 1 day resting, repeat. Or 3 on 2 off. You gotta find out what works for your fitness and energy levels and the only way to know is experiment.
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Hear me out
Muddlebud pollen sex
OP YOUR MIND SO FUCKING F A T. How you walk with a brain so fat? Let's GO!
Link snuck his way into the clan. He thought maybe they'd flag him down for his blonde hair, but nope! Fuckers just let him walk right in. He meant to just come in, steal some shit, get out. But basically he got himself into a mission with a blademaster, and a footsoldier. The blademaster nodded towards Link.
"You brought the bag, yes?"
He nodded.
"Good. Last time we forgot the bag, Sooga kinda got mad at us. Scared me."
The footsoldier nudged him with his elbow, definitely smirking under that mask.
"You gotta admit, he WAS kinda hot though~"
The blademaster folded his arms over his chest, huffing.
"But not hotter than me. Right?"
The footsoldier put his hand on his elbow, in almost pity, before shaking his head.
"No. It's SOOGA. Have you seen his ASS? I love you, banana muffin, but you're not hotter than Sooga, you need to come to terms with this."
The blademaster looked at Link, and he was scared he was somehow caught, before he asked his question.
"Newbie. Who's hotter, me our Sooga?"
Link sat there, awkwardly, before just giving him a thumbs up. The footsoldier scoffed, smacking the other's bicep.
"Don't put the new guy on blast! Either answer is WRONG!"
Link was expecting them to fight, and he wasn't gonna cap he was kinda uncomfortable, when the blademaster decided to de-escalate the situation himself with a huff.
"You know what. Let's just get this mission done, so we can just go home."
They kept walking on in silence, very awkward silence. The footsoldier stuck by his side, and kept his voice low so the bigger one couldn't hear.
"Sorry about him- you jerk off to a picture of Sooga ONCE and he suddenly thinks you're cheating on him. We haven't fucked in like, two months, and I think it's stressing us out."
Link couldn't help but feel bad. He had a soft spot for couples, he couldn't help it. Eventually, they made it to a location. You know those big, weird, red roots you often find in the depths? Well there was one HERE. And surrounding it, was a field of muddlebuds. The blademaster nodded towards Link.
"We need to collect these. Be super careful, if the pollen gets inhaled, you'll freak out, and then there's no telling what could happen."
Link obeyed, helping them pluck the buds and stuffing them in the bag. Again, there was silence, before the footsoldier sighed.
"You still mad at me?"
"Yes. Because I get to be mad. I'M buff! I'm big! In ALL the right places too!"
"Can you not, in front of the new guy?"
"Oh look who's talking!"
Oh god, this was the worst case of him third wheeling he'd ever experienced. They were still arguing, looking as if they'd straight up fight. So, Link decided to help. Well, do SOMETHING. He followed his impulsive thoughts, and he 'accidentally' dropped the bag by their feet. A giant, glittery puff of purple pollen exploded right under them, with all three of them trying desperately to keep themselves from breathing it in. Unfortunately, it was too late.
Link's mind got foggy. He felt...really confused. So confused, he grabbed onto the nearest thing he could. Something...soft. Warm. Big. He felt hands at his hips, almost protectively.
"H-hey. You okay? Breathing in all of that isn't good for you."
Link didn't know why he did what he did. But his hands found their way to his chest, giving them a squeeze. God, so soft, so FULL. The blademaster chuckled, pulling him till their fronts were touching.
"This...is a weird time for you to suddenly touch me again. Not that I mind."
"You sure?"
There was the footsoldier, coming up from behind him. He felt something rubbing up against his back, and he sort of had an inkling of what it was.
"Don't...mind at all."
Don't ask Link how it happened. But suddenly, he was sandwiched between them, legs lifted up off the ground. There was a tear at his uniform, letting his cock and his ass be exposed to the elements. Link shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't let the blademaster push his mask aside to shove his tongue into his mouth.
"God, you feel tighter than usual. I'm...kinda wonderin' if imma fit."
Link felt a tip pressed against his hole, and he should stop them, but his body didn't let him. He felt it pushed inside of him. That wasn't the hard part. The hard part, was his friend.
"I know...imma fit. You're SO good at taking me."
The other's dick was WAY bigger. As in, Link had a death grip on the other's shoulders as it joined the other, stretching his poor little asshole. It hurt, but he didn't care. He just cared about these two different cocks currently fucking him. He cared about the big, fat tongue currently fucking his mouth. Cared about the teeth nibbling at his neck.
"Fuck, I already wanna cum, I already wanna cum so bad..."
"You missed me that much? You never cum this fast."
"I did. I missed this ass, I missed how tight you are and how you squeeze around me. Lemme cum, I need it."
Oh god, he was gonna cum in his ass. This footsoldier was gonna cum in his ass, and this guy was telling him it was okay! Like it was his own body to decide what to do with. Link was tempted to tell them to stop, when the cum filled him up inside. It was hot, it seeped out of his ass and probably onto the other's cock. Okay, maybe he could just. Let whatever happens happens-
"Can...Can I finish in your mouth? Please? I like your mouth."
The guy didn't even wait for a response. Suddenly, he was dropped to the ground, and a cock was shoved right into his mouth. It was done unceremoniously, roughly, with a big hand gripping onto his hair. It was a tight, possessive, aggressive. Link loved it. He didn't care that those heavy balls were smacking against his chin, didn't care that he kept gagging till his throat hurt. Link only had one thought in mind.
That he loved cock.
He loved cock, loved the smell of it, the taste, and the feeling of so much cum being forced down his throat. It slid down his throat, pooled into his stomach. The cock slowly pulled out of his mouth, resting on his face. It was wet, steaming hot, still pulsing.
"Oh no."
"Did we just. Oooh my god."
The pollen seemed to have startee to dissipate, and the two of them looked upon him, cocks out and horrified.
"We just. Fucked the new guy."
"We did. We fucking did. Oooh my god, Kohga is gonna kill us."
"What do you expect us to do?! God, this is all your fault."
"M-MY FAULT?! Are you serious?!"
"If you weren't a pervert, I wouldn't have...wouldn't..."
Link got bored in their argument, and decided to entertain himself, by suckling his balls. The hair, the sweat. It was all SUCH a delight. The footsoldier sighed, almost annoyed.
"Why don't I just join our new friend here, and we just put the whole thing past us?"
"H-hey, no, stop it, you pervert-"
The footsoldier joined him, on his knees, suckling on his balls alongside Link, and for the other's amusement, occasionally kissed Link's cum coated lips. Maybe muddling was a good thing afterall.
#asks#link#lemon#i was thinking of making it characters we already had#but i thought making it two randos would be fun
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The summer days grew longer and hotter. Keeping his coat on in twenty five degree weather was a crime, so Osvald left it in his room. It was the first day since leaving prison that he would not be wearing it. He'd grown to love it more than any other clothing item he ever had. It fit him perfectly, was warm and admittedly even looked good. He looked presentable wearing it.
"No sweater?" Elena asked as he descended the stairs.
"It's getting too hot for that," Osvald replied.
They were never the type to say good morning. To them, it was a strange and unnecessary greeting. Osvald poured two bowls of oatmeal, cutting up bananas for Elena's, smiling as he saw how invested she was in her book.
"Isn't it your fourth time reading that one? Shouldn't you find other books?" he asked.
"First off, it's my fifth time reading it. And no, reading it a fifth time is fine," she replied.
"If you insist," Osvald said.
Judging her for something so harmless would be hypocritical. In prison, he often found himself rereading the same three books over and over again. They were familiar and kind.
He passed her a bowl with oatmeal, bananas, raisins and yoghurt, just how she liked it.
"Thanks..." she stopped as she accepted the bowl, "woah where'd you get those scars?"
Osvald looked down, trying to figure out which ones she was talking about. There were far too many to keep track of.
"These ones," she pointed at his arm.
He looked down at the rows of horizontal lines on his left arm.
"Was it a monster with lots of claws?" she asked.
A monster maybe, but not quite claws.
Each one was a punishment for some kind of mistake while in prison. When he accidentally hurt someone, almost let his plans slip, or even just dropped what little food he was given.
Well, not all of them were punishments. Some existed only to make the pain of losing Rita and Elena bearable. Emotional pain was a stormy ocean, and he had only a rowboat and a single oar to traverse it.
But physical? He was practically an expert. It silenced the thoughts in his head. Gave him something else to focus on, some kind of problem that had an easy solution, rather than none at all.
Osvald's eyes wetted with tears as he recalled how they'd been made. All his crude, poorly sharpened tools.
"It's..." he paused, "it's a very scary story. I'll tell you when you're older."
His voice was weak and small as he spoke. He didn't want to admit to his daughter that he'd done such a thing to himself. He never should've worn a short sleeved shirt at all. His scars seemed to sting the longer he thought of them.
"Oh, ok then. I bet that stupid monster is sorry it ever even looked in your direction!" Elena laughed.
"Yeah, maybe," he sniffled.
She knew so little about all his problems. She didn't know her being alive practically defeated the monster, or that her smile kept it at bay.
Elena finally noticed he was crying. A concerned look painted her face as she rushed to his side.
"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?" she frowned.
"Heaven's no, of course not. It's just a sad story," Osvald chuckled.
He took her into his arms, and held her tight. Some other time, he'd have to find another excuse why he couldn't tell her where the scars were from.
WAS THIS YOUR PLAN PIE. YOU GET ME ATTACHED TO OSVALD WITH YOUR FACTUALLY CORRECT OPINIONS ABOUT HIM AND YOUR FLUFFY FICS WITH HIM AND ELENA ONLY TO STOMP OUT WHAT REMAINS OF MY SOUL SHORTLY AFTER WITH THE MOST HEART-RENDING ANGST IVE READ IN MY LIFE. WAS IT
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CHAPTER TWO | THE MALL RATS
gif not mine. credit to owner.
word count: 2,363
warnings: swearing, angst, mention of death
{June 29, 1985}
The next morning, Jennifer woke up in a dire mood as she lays in her bed. She stares at the ceiling before sighing, getting up and starting her day. Jennifer drove to the mall and entered, opening Scoops Ahoy before Robin and Steve arrived as she turns the lights on above, throwing her keys on the table in the back. Once when the mall open completely, people of different ages storm through and by the time Jennifer knows it, the mall is packed.
Leaning against the counter in between rooms, she watches as Robin hands off two cones to a man and woman as they turn to leave. Suddenly, Dusting shows up.
"Hey, someone's back from camp. How'd it go?"
Dustin looks around the female, glancing at his sister. "Good."
He looks at Robin.
"Hi,"
"Hi. I'm Dustin."
"I'm Robin,"
"Pleasure to meet you. Uh, is -- is he here?"
"I who here?" Jennifer asks.
Steve bursts through the door as he greets the younger boy, cheering and explaining but acting as a little kid. It makes Jennifer furrowed her brows, rolling her eyes before turning away.
"How many children are you friends with?"
Steve sighs in annoyance as Jennifer can tell just from hearing it from afar, walking out and towards Dustin as he greets her. They quickly hug before pulling back.
At a table, the three get situated as Robin continues at the counter. Jennifer sits on the end of the seat as she's beside Steve. Dustin plunges the spoon in a banana split, talking about how hot is girlfriend is plus how she looks like Phoebe Cates.
"Hotter than Phoebe Cates? No."
"Mm-hmm."
Dustin's eyes widen a like a little kid in a candy store as he continues on about this girl he was with at summer camp. Jennifer shifts, glancing toward her younger brother.
"Brilliant, too. And she doesn't even care that my real pearls are still coming in. She says kissing is better without teeth."
Steve nods, disgusted as he and Jennifer look at each other as she cringes. The silence is loud as the conversations around them are indistinct.
"Wow. That's great. Proud of you, man. That's ro-- That's kinda romantic."
Jennifer goes into her own world as she fumbles with Steve's sailor hat on the table, thinking as Dustin speaks. The sounds of a someone clearing their throat makes Jennifer come back to reality.
"Jennifer. you okay?" Steve asks as him and Dustin look at her with concern.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Did you say something, Dustin?"
"Yes, you working anywhere?"
"No, taking a break from stress."
He nods. "What about your relationship, Steve?"
"Good. We're still going strong."
"So do you really just get to eat as much of this as you want?"
"Yeah. I mean, sure. It's not really a good idea for me, though. I gotta keep in shape for the lad-- For Jennifer."
"Yeah, and how's that working out for you?"
"Ignore her."
"She seems cool."
"She's not. Where are the other knuckleheads?"
"Steve," She nudges him with her elbow.
"They ditched me yesterday,"
"No," Jennifer says.
"My first day back. Can you believe that shit?"
"Whoa. Seriously?"
"I swear to God. Mm. They're gonna regret it, though, big time, when they don't get to share in my glory."
"Glory? What Glory?" Jennifer asks.
Dustin scoots closer to Steve. "So, last night, we're trying to get in contact with Suzie.."
"Oh. Mm." Steve hums, looking at Jennifer as she smiles softly at him.
Dustin looks around. "I intercepted a secret Russian communication."
"What?" Steve and Jennifer say in unison.
Dustin clicks his tongue, inhaling deeply before exhaling before speaking softly. "I intercepted a secret Russian communication." Whilst covering his face.
Jennifer furrows her brows.
"Just speak louder."
"I intercepted a secret Russian communication." He speaks, louder this time as everyone in Scoops Ahoy looks at the three of them.
"Jeez, shh. Yeah, okay, that's what I thought you said."
They look around as Jennifer feels slightly embarrassed to be next to her brother and boyfriend. Steve leans against the table.
"What-- What does that mean?"
"It means, Steve, we could be heroes. True American heroes."
"Huh."
"Mm-hmm?"
"American heroes?" Jennifer asks, pretending to be excited.
"American heroes. You could have all of Jennifer you want and more."
"More? No, I have-- I have Jennifer. She's all I need."
"Oh."
"Why did you stammer?" Jennifer asks.
"I did-- I didn't."
"Yes, you did. And you did it again."
"Yeah, you did." Dustin adds.
Steve and Dustin lean in further to one another as Jennifer leans in as well.
"What's the catch?"
"No catch, I just need your and Jennifer's help."
"With what?" Jennifer questions.
Dustin doesn't say anything as he turns to his bag and unzips it, pulling out a small booklet and showing the two adults. It reads 'Romanov's Russian - English, English - Russian Dictionary'.
"Translation." Dustin smiles.
"Seriously Dustin?"
"Yeah,"
"How the hell are we gonna do that? It's gonna take forever since none of us know how to speak Russian, even if we do read the book. It's takes awhile to learn a new language."
"We can try,"
"Jesus,"
Jennifer and Steve rise as Dustin grabs his bag and follows after them into the back room. Behind the counter, she overhears Robin and a little girl. The female calls out to Steve, who is in the back room with Jennifer and Dustin. He paces back and forth as he takes a bite out of his banana as the voice of a male speaks in Russian on the recording. The recorder sits beside a book as Dustin is seated in a chair as well as his sister. A familiar tune plays as well. The kid stops the recorder.
"So what do you think?"
"It sounded familiar."
"What?"
"The music. The music right there at the end." He says, mouth full.
"Why are you listening to the music, Steve?" Jennifer asks.
"Listen to the Russian. We're translating Russian!"
"I'm trying to listen to the Russian, but there's music--"
"All right, babysitting time is over. You need to get out there."
Dustin and Jennifer stay in their places as Steve steps back. Robin walks toward her dry erase board.
"Hey, my board. That was important data, shitbirds."
"I'm not the one who cleared the board. Don't look at me,"
"Not you. Those two."
"I guarantee you, what we're doing is way more important than your data."
Steve nods, tossing the peel on the table below.
"Yeah? And how do you know these Russians are up to no good anyways?"
Dustin cranes his neck, looking at Steve. Jennifer lowers her head, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance almost wanting to side with Robin. She sighs.
"How does she know about the Russians?"
"I don't know."
"You told her about--"
"It wasn't me."
"It wasn't me either, doofus."
"Hello, I can hear you. Actually, I can hear everything. You both are extremely loud."
"I agree with that. I kept trying to quiet them down."
"You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country, on tape, and you're trying to translate, but haven't figured out a word because you didn't realize Russians use an entirely different alphabet. Sound about right?"
The room was silent. Robin leans into grab the recorder as Steve swoops in and yanks it away.
"Woah! What do you think you're doing?"
"I wanna hear it."
"Why?" Dustin and Steve ask at the same time.
"Cause maybe I can help. I'm fluent in four languages, you know."
"Russian?"
"Ou-yay are-yay umb-day."
The boys are immersed by Robin speaking another language as Jennifer sighs, lowering her head once again.
"Holy shit."
"Dustin,"
"Sorry."
"That was Pig Latin, dingus."
Steve smacks Dustin with his banana peel with one hand whilst holding the recorder in the other.
"Idiot."
"But I can speak Spanish and French and Italian and I've been in band for 12 years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me."
"Uh.."
"That's why you look familiar."
"Yeah." Robin says, glancing at Jennifer before the two boys. "Come on, it's your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate. I don't even want credit. I'm just bored."
She reaches toward Steve with the ice cream scoop. He sighs and the bell in front dings atop the counter. Steve exchanges the recorder for the scoop as she smiles.
~~
With listening and trying to comprehend the Russian language and the stance in the tape, Robin paces back and forth listening intently as Jennifer holds the recorder. The catchy and familiar tune plays once again. She stops, pointing at the recorder.
"Wait, that last part, just one more time."
Jennifer nods and rewinds the tape as the sentence repeats.
"Okay, that word. Um.. That word which is pronounced as Dlt-nna-ya.. which is spelled..."
Robin sighs, taking a seat beside Jennifer and grabbing a pen.
"D... D, D, D..." Dustin says, rising and walking toward the whiteboard. "The-- The chair. The chair-looking thingy."
"Yeah, okay." She says, writing the Russian letter down.
Jennifer stands and rushes toward the window, sliding it open and seeing Steve, who holds two cones in his hand.
"We got our first sentence,"
"Oh really?"
"Yeah."
Robin saunters over as Steve leans against the counter. She speaks in a russian accent. "The week is long."
"Weel, that's thrilling."
"I know. But, progress."
Robin turns and walks the other direction as Steve stands straight and brings over the two cones to Max and El. She closes the window shut, going back to the table.
~~
Late that night, Steve and Jennifer as well as Robin and Dustin stand in front of the whiteboard, staring at the newly formed sentence written on it.
"The week is long, the silver cat feeds, when blue meets yellow in the west."
"Okay that's a little odd."
They exit as Robin grabs her belongings as Jennifer holds her keys in her hands, waiting behind for Steve who locks up the shop for the night. They begin walking through the mall together.
"I mean, it just... it can't be right."
"It's right."
"Honestly, I think it's great news." Dustin says.
"How is this great news?" Jennifer questions. "I mean, so much for being American heroes. It's total nonsense."
"It's not nonsense. It's too specific. It's obviously a code."
"What do you mean a code?"
"Like a super secret spy code."
"That's a total stretch."
"I don't know, is it?"
"You're buying into this?" Jennifer asks Robin.
"Listen, just for kicks, let's entertain the possibility that it is a secret Russian transmission. What's you think they were gonna say, 'Fire the warhead at noon'?"
"Exactly."
"And my translation is correct. I know that for sure, so... 'The silver cat feeds.' Why would anyone talk like that unless they're trying to mask the true meaning of their message."
"Exactly," Dustin says once again.
Behind them, Steve and Jennifer follow as they stay silent. She laced her fingers with his, standing closer to him as they walk.
"Why would anyone mask the true meaning of their message unless the message was somehow sensitive?"
"Exactly."
Steve makes a face, silently mocking the two.
"So I guess that confirms your suspicion."
"Evil Russians."
"I can't believe I'm about to agree with this strange child, but, yeah, totally evil Russians."
"So how do we crack it?" Jennifer asks.
"Well, I guess we translate the rest and hopefully a pattern emerges."
"A pattern. Right, like maybe 'silver cat' is a meeting place?"
"Or a person."
"Or a weapon."
"It's probably gonna take a super genius to crack it, but... Where's Steve and Jennifer?"
She looks back at the two as they stand in front of the horse ride as Steve frantically searches his pockets for change. Coins clatter on the floor as Robin calls out his name.
"What are you doing?"
"Uh, it's a quarter. I need-- Do you have a quarter?"
Robin and Dustin approach the couple, standing behind them.
"Sure you're tall enough for that ride?"
"Quarter!"
Jennifer grabs her wallet and opens it, pulling out a quarter as Steve grabs it. He slides it in the coin slot as the rise moves and the familiar tune plays out as she recognizes it. Steve knelt on the floor, brows furrowed.
"You need help getting up, little Stevie?"
Dustin chuckles as he shushes the two.
"Would you two just shut up and listen?"
Everyone stays quiet as the songs continues playing as Dustin's calm exspression turns into an estatic one.
"Holy shit," He says. "The music."
"Yeah, it sounds very familiar."
Dustin throws off his back before kneeling in front of it and unzips the bag, pulling the recorder out and playing the tape. A male speaks over the tape as the same song plays in the recording. Dustin cranes his neck, looking at Robin.
"I don't understand."
"It's the exact same song on the recording."
"Maybe they have horses like this in Russia.
" 'Indiana Flyer'? I don't... I don't think so. This code, it... didn't come from Russia. It came from here."
Jennifer, Robin and Dustin stare at the ride intently.
~~
Outside, Steve and Jennifer stand at her car as she leans against the vehicle. His hand rests gently against Jennifer's hip.
"Do you believe any of this shit?"
"No, but who knows. There could be evil russians under the mall, you never know."
"Jennifer,"
"Yeah?"
"Are you sure you're okay? Ever since Wilhelmina's death, you've been sluggish lately. I know the anniversary of her death is nearing a year, but I wanna make sure you're not gonna hang yourself tonight when you get home."
"Ste- Yes, I've been sluggish. And no, I wouldn't hang myself over something so.. so.."
"Jen, please just talk to someone about this. I'm worried about you."
"I will do that."
"Please, do."
Jennifer unlocks the car and begins to slide in when Steve stops her, pressing a delicate kiss to her lips. They pull away after a few seconds before she enters the vehicle and closes the door behind her. She puts the keys in the ignition, pulling out of the lot and driving down the road.
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ateez and their size kink
warning: smut, fem! reader
requested by anon,, thank you so much!! i hope this is okay.. i’m sorry if it’s not— i’m on the taller side so— i’m like :/ eh?
hongjoong:
to be one hundred percent honest i think he wouldn’t be one to say he’d have that kink ..at first !!
but the way you would just look so cute under him while he’s railing into you... he’s like wait
he’d love to run his hands all over you just to see the comparison
cups your boobs/chest
because he’s shorter.. he’d never put it away
like ALWAYS teasing you..
“hey joongie” you call from your room to your lover in the living room. making him enter the room to you laying on the bed, sprawled out on your back- causing his dick to twitch in his pants from the sight of your body. your robe the only thing on your body, loosely fit and opened, letting your glistening heat be the center of attention.
“naughty little baby... what are you doing?” he growls out coming to the edge of the bed, grabbing ahold of your ankles to pull you closer to his growing member. gasping out from the sudden jerk and now close proximity to his tent- you stutter out your best “mmmh- i need you p-pretty please?”
“and what exactly does my baby need?” he says lowly, now squeezing your thighs deliciously in his hands. making you shiver, “your cock.”
“is that right?” hongjoong hums out when he brings his hands down to rake up your stomach and to your beautiful breasts. causing you to whine more and put your hands over his, and then to his zipper- fumbling with it while chanting and repeating “yes”
he just watches the pout form upon your lips when your hands are too shaky, so when you huff out- hongjoong immediately pushes you back down and shows you how to do it properly. ending with him fucking your tiny pussy before he could even take off his clothes.
“little baby... so small”
seonghwa:
cocky #1
melts his heart honestly.. like how??
DIRTY TALKER
or more like dirty praises?
please let him cum in your tiny pussy
HE WILL FILL YOU FULL
he wondered if it was just affecting him- how small you were in comparison.
you were so small and cute, it made seonghwa become someone he had to calm down. constantly touching you, you were his little thing to fuck and love- not anyone else’s
“you like that huh? my thick cock stretching your tiny pussy?” he growls right against the shell of your ear, while you throw your head back into his neck letting out moans of pleasure.
“yes, yes! seonghwa you’re so big”
and always when you did your chanting about how much you were in admiration for his bigger size, immediately and always made seonghwa want to bust.
it was something he took so much pride into, like yes. yes he was so big, only for you- and he would never live it down, constantly reminding you in anyway that you were on the lower level.
“mmmh gonna fuck my cum in you yeah? you want that? to fill you so full it’ll spill out of your tiny hole?”
just give him the go ahead and he’ll let go.
only to fuck you over and over again until everything spills to your thighs and onto the bedsheets
yunho:
please wear his clothes
he LOVES to fuck you in his big hoodie/shirt
TUMMY BULGE!!
he knows he big so he’s extremely careful when you’re so much smaller
cockwarming!!
but deep down he really wants to destroy you
as he watches his cock slide in and out of your wet heat from his hovering stance. yunho’s hands veiny, under your (his) clothes and resting on your stomach- he feels himself poke from your inners.
the feeling sending him into oblivion, hips frantic- but gentle hearing every whimper fall from your little lips and how your walls clench desperately around him.
“baby? s-stop clenching so hard” groaning out watching your eyes roll back and body to grow limp in his big hoodie covering your top half, yunho feels himself start to lose control
“b-but i can’t- you feel so good yuyu” moaning out blissfully. each word and sounds making him grow hotter and harder
your legs spread apart so wonderfully for him, as he fucks into your body cushioned on the bed. the morning sun peeking ever so slightly from the window blinds, lighting the room- such a beautiful setting for such lewd antics
slapping sounds, so erotic- waking up wanting and needing you, yunho had caved in
you were so small, but by far the warmest- pleasurable feeling
yeosang:
he’d be like ... wow ... tiny
hahahHAHAH jkjk no
but he’d be soooo AMAZED
like.. for real would think he’s going to break you
i think he would really like you to give him HANDJOBS!!
your tiny hands wrapped around him— fuck
he didn’t think that watching a show on tv, with you sitting on the floor while he in the sofa- you between his legs. that he’d be getting hard and actually cause you to crack first.
no way was yeosang going to interrupt your show for a little bedroom playtime, so when it was you who made the first move- things set sail
your fingers brushing over his tip, gathering his leaking arousal- yeosang kept his eyes down watching every move of your small digits and the way both your hands jacking him off looked.
you made him feel huge, and it was true
“y/n- fuck” bucking his hips up, yeosang twitches closer to the edge
having no idea why you’re making him feel close so fast, you just were irresistible with those small features…. all so tempting-
“you can’t even wrap your hands around me~”
but just wait until after he grunts out his dirty comments and amazement, and cums over your hands- it’ll make him hard all over again, and then he’ll compare his size to the tightness of your cunt
san:
cocky #2
are we surprised? not really no
but there’s two things.. does he want to rip you apart or spare you the delicacy?
DEPENDS ON HIS MOOD
if he’s hornyyyy- it’s game over
he’ll do the whole nine— but you better beg
okay doggy would be a position you and san spend having sex in quite a lot.
especially if he’s feeling greedy and pretty much like the most prideful man on earth- because.. i mean he’s the biggest compared to the little baby you are.
“this small pussy takes my big cock so well huh?” he questions you in a low level moan while gripping ahold of your hips tightly
hitting in you perfectly every time, cries of pleasure rip out of you- as your arms can’t keep your upper body up any longer. “mmm- yes! only for you!”
san loves holding his hands on the small of your back while moving his hips in deliberately- making you fall apart just to his doing. your moans made him gleam with delight. and he couldn’t get enough.
so when san pulls out of your sopping cunt- leaving your orgasm to fade away into the midst of no pleasure. and you begin the begging
oh boy. “sannie! n-no don’t stop!! please stretch me out!” with a pout on your lips and hands trailing down to play with your clit- “i need your big cock~”
he’s back in- pounding into you like no tomorrow.. better yet, you’ll be going on until tomorrow- up all night, ripping orgasm after orgasm from your little body
mingi:
princess boy would think you were so cute
omg like :O
YOU ON TOP = MOANING MESS
your small body taking his big everything would make him so bananas
like.. please RIDE HIS THIGHS
climbing on the thickness of mingi’s thighs, two things were going to happen. one; he was going to take in every second of your show and not take any of it further for him, or two; bring the aftermath of it upon you. meaning you caused this achingly hard erection to occur with the friction of your pussy against his thighs, so why don’t you just be so kind and take care of it?
seeing you on top of his spread legs, bouncing yourself up and down his dick- made him feel warmth succumb every part of his body.
“y/n, baby- yes!” deep moans into the air, head thrown back, adam’s apple bobbing. mingi wouldn’t have it any other way
your thighs straddling him, his cock sheathed into you at the pace you make for yourself- all of it was pure bliss
mostly it was when you reached your high. that he couldn’t take it any longer.
your hands gripping tightly into his shoulders, as you continuously abused your sweet hole with him, clenching, moaning- throwing yourself forward to his chest.
once you hit your climax, mingi needs to pull out to spurt his cum over the small of your stomach. absolutely covering you with his white paint. so much of it- just to be splattered about, all over your panting and heaving self was absolutely pristine
wooyoung:
cocky #3
holy hell, YOURE GOING TO NEED HELP
he will ALWAYS make sure you know just how small you really are
like... oh? you can’t reach that? too bad
SO RUDEEE (not really but like) TEASE!
SUCK HIM OFF PLEASE!! he’ll get so whiny
“you little whore huh? really that’s what you are! a tiny little wh- uH~!”
constantly. everytime he’d ramble about having his thick big dick in the smallest little thing of a mouth you have, giving him just a quick suck and pump of your hands- sent wooyoung into a babbling mess.
to the point where you’d have him bucking up with need- because all you do is be small. that’s it.
be the small thing he gets to fuck and love.
oh? you’re hungry? take his cock. oh? you’re bored? take his cock.
it was simple yet exciting. you loved taking him in every way. and he loved the way you- so little yet so proud and confident that wooyoung wouldn’t let it go.
“you j-just can’t get enough can you?” as soon as the stuttering comes repeatedly- it was a cue for you to brace yourself for a load of his seed.
lips wrapped tight around him, your wet little tongue licking and ravishing…. what a sight.
it’s even better when it’s decorated with the milky white of his cum~
jongho:
something inside him will unlock
and he will want to suddenly make you a MESS
MANHANDLING i swear on it
he will lift you up just in regular life
AND in the bedroom
DOES ALL SORTS OF FUCKING- against the wall, standing, etc
it was the little whine that escaped your mouth when jongho had picked you up from the floor and onto the counter when you two were making out- that he knew, fuck yes.
“oh? you’re becoming more and more dumb each time i fuck your tight pussy, hmm” jongho can help the lowness of his voice to become while feeling the way you get even tighter around him, “maybe i ought to fuck you with something else but my cock?”
“no! no! y-your cock please mmmmh- only yours jongho!” your pleading whines that turn into moans into the crook of his neck, for the way he holds you leaves you no choice but to throw your head into
having your body pinned against the wall, so small- easy to use in his advantage and liking
jongho enjoyed the way you were able to be taken anywhere, and in any way. while even during the normal of the day in life- and your going about in public, how you constantly pressed your tiny hands against his abdomen holding him close. jongho, either had a hand cupping your ass or you palming him
no matter the circumstance. jongho lives to see the baby he loves- so small and sweet be needy and breakable to his every demand…
#ateez#ateez reactions#ateez imagines#ateez smut#ateez fic#ateez drabbles#ateez x reader#yunho#seonghwa#choi san#ateez blurbs#ateez fluff#ateez requests#hongjoong#wooyoung#mingi#jongho#yeosang
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sexting/phone sex with nct dream (+ sungchan and shotaro) //
<nct 127's reaction> <wayv's reaction>
pairing: nct dream + sungtaro x fem!reader.
genre: smut.
words: 1.41k+.
warnings: 18+ content.
tagging: @hoehousenet @kdiarynet @chwe-yeeun @hoe2z @jayvoir @lqsience @jisungismymom @rosiehoon @giveortake @choijwiss
mark (copy - pasted from 127's reaction)
you desperately needed him to come over and tend to your needs but unfortunately for you, he was stuck at work. but maybe you were too horny to actually give a shit, so you send him a nice video of yourself as incentive. the video was instant boner material and mark was now in a predicament. you were so out of your mind that you asked him to show you just how much you’d affected him and this bitch really pulled through. so yeah, mutual masturbation through the phone. hotter than it sounds and mark was racing to get home after he’d cummed.
renjun (i went off on his)
you'd left him quite a few missed calls so he decided to call you back once he got a break. when he finally did, he asked what was wrong, genuinely concerned. that's when you shared that you missed him and wanted him to come home. of course he wasn't going to listen to your ridiculous demand. he was in the middle of work. so you figured the only thing you could do was give him some sort of incentive. keeping him on call, you sent him a scandalous photo of yourself. renjun was extremely caught off guard by this. he began scolding you over the phone, warning you that anyone could've seen it. but you didn't care. as long as he'd seen what you needed him to see, your mission had been accomplished. unfortunately however, it wasn't enough to get him to come home. so you blatantly began touching yourself, holding your phone to your ear so that renjun would be able to hear every single sound you made. after that it was boner city for him. he kept telling you to stop but he couldn't seem to hang up on you. he could tell you were close just by the way your moans started getting more shrill. but before he could hear you finish, you went silent, telling him to come home if he wanted to see you cum.
jeno
you both were literally just joking around, talking about whatever when the topic somehow landed on what type of banana jeno's dick resembled and what type of fruit your tits resembled. somewhere in that discussion, you commented about how big his dick was and how much you loved the stretch it gave you. this obviously fuelled his ego and he inquisitively asked you about other things he did to you that you enjoyed. so you left an overly descriptive list for him to read and get flustered over. you also decided to tell him about the things you wanted him to do to you, things so lewd and filthy. he'd never fathomed that you'd be into such corrupted things but he couldn't deny the rush of excitement he felt as he thought about doing those things to you. i used things so much here lmao but please feel free to interpret as you wish.
haechan (copy - pasted from 127's reaction)
he’d called you at the wrong time and you weren’t ready to just let him interrupt you like that. so you let go of any and all shame within yourself and picked up the phone. of course he could hear what was going on and gosh did he turn into a tomato. he went somewhere more private and tried his best not to pop a boner. this was easier said than done. you weren’t exactly being quiet. plus, he hated when you touched yourself. he believed you didn’t have to since you had him. so he told you to stop (if you didn’t then he’d make you pay for it when he got back home). but you were desperate and you really needed to cum. so, he pitied you and guided you through it. though he couldn’t see what you were doing, your moans were enough to help him vaguely imagine what was going on. he still punished you for touching yourself by coming home dreadfully late.
jaemin
he was the one who missed you and was lowkey kinda needy for you. he'd been holed up at work for so long and he couldn't wake to get back home to you. unfortunately for him, his errands were seeming to drag out longer and longer. he was so impatient and desperate that he slipped into a bathroom stall, locked the door, dialled your number and shoved his hand in his pants. when you picked up, he asked you to go to the couch or bed, strip and sit with your legs spread apart. though he couldn't see you, he was sure you were following his instructions. he told you what he was doing and asked you to touch yourself. all he needed was to hear the sound of your pretty moans, chants of his names as you pleased yourself, just as he would've if he were with you. he closed his eyes, imagining himself laying between your thighs, lips wrapped around your clit. he could almost taste you on his tongue. the sounds you let out as you came undone all over your fingers are what pushed him to his own climax. he was satisfied but he knew it wouldn't last long.
chenle
there was no reason for him to but he was bored so he pulled out his phone and asked you to send him a picture of your boobs. he was just being playful so he hadn't expected you to actually send him a nice photo of your bra clad breasts. eyes widening in awe of the sight, he sat up and asked you to send more picture of yourself. he never knew you could be so bold. he was equally impressed and stunned to say the least. all the pictures you were sending him were clearly having their wondrous effects on him. blood rushed to his cock and soon enough he began palming himself subtly. and when you switched to videos. well let's just say he made a small mess while sitting there.
jisung
you both might've done something you didn't usually do the previous night, so you were discussing about the experience. jisung had really enjoyed himself and he wasn't opposed to try it out again some time. based off your texts, it seemed the same could be said for you. your imagination was running wilder than his however. the things you were texting him were so dirty. jisung's face flushed a deep shade of red as he read all the things you'd secretly been desiring. this was all so new to him. he'd never had such lewd conversations with you over the phone. it was definitely hard to do though. he couldn't seem to be able to type straight, constantly fumbling over his words and making numerous typos.
sungchan
you'd gone shopping and since he couldn't come with you, you decided to send him pictures of all the outfits you were trying on. the last picture you'd sent him was one of you in a black body-con dress. sungchan's mouth went dry as he stared at the picture of you. you looked so fucking hot and all he could think about was ripping that tight dress off of you in order to devour your body. he was so riled up that he couldn't refrain from letting you know how he was feeling. you being the tease that you were, took advantage of your poor boyfriend's increasing horniness and began sending him more pictures of yourself, some with the dress' strap hanging off your shoulders while other showed the bottom of your dress hiked up your thigh. gosh he was so damn needy when he finally got to fuck you later on in the day.
shotaro
he was at the company, practicing his dance without realising how long he'd been at work. you kept texting him, asking him when he'd be home. by the time he actually picked up his phone, you sent him about 50 texts, each getting progressively more aggressive and nsfw. your cute pleads morphed into more scandalous reasons for why you needed him to be him so badly. you'd even taken the time to share a nice photo here and there. you'd think that all of this would either turn him on or make him want to rush home to tend to your needs. but it only makes him laugh. he scoffs and sets his phone aside. deliberately leaving you on read so that you'll know he's making you wait on purpose. shotaro's a tease, you didn't hear that from me though.
#nct smut#mark smut#renjun smut#jeno smut#haechan smut#jaemin smut#nct dream smut#sungchan smut#jisung smut#chenle smut#shotaro smut#hoehousenet#kdiarynet
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i choose you
pairing: Loki x gn!Reader
summary: You’re hanging out with the Avengers when the game turns into either/or questions and you have to pick between Steve and Loki, but you have the biggest, most secret crush on Loki, so you say Steve. Loki convinces you to change your answer.
warnings: none
word count: 2.6k
a/n: I wrote this for day 28 of swoon june: domestic. And this is the most swoon worthy thing i’ve written the entire month lol
***
“Banana pudding or french fries?” Natasha asks.
“French fries,” Tony says immediately. Clint agrees. Loki nods his head in agreement as well.
“Pudding,” you say. Steve hums his agreement.
“Pudding is delightful,” Thor agrees.
“My turn.” Clint grins, and you and Nat share a look. You know what this means. It’s going to be another ridiculous question.
Clint turns his head in your direction. “This one is specifically for y/n.” You don’t know what question he intends to ask, but you can read that teasing glint in his eyes. “Spend the rest of your life with Steve or Loki?”
You laugh. “What? That’s not like the other questions.”
“Yes, it is. You just have to make a choice.”
“Make a choice?” You laugh again. It sounds uncomfortable to your own ears. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Clint retorts. “It’s a simple question. Loki or Steve?”
You glance at Loki and find him still watching you from his place on the chair next to the sofa where you are currently perched on. You flick your gaze to the rest of the Avengers around the room, either on the same sofa as you or one of the other chairs. The movie night turned into truth or dare and then random questions as the night wore on, and now it’s two-thirty in the morning and clearly, your crush on Loki isn’t as hidden as you thought it was.
“I know who’d I choose,” Nat says. “It’s not a hard choice. We’ve all seen Steve’s muscles. Those rock-hard abs.”
“And his chiseled jawline,” Tony adds.
“C’mon, y/n, we all answered the questions. I don’t get why this is such a big deal.” Clint leans forward from the chair diagonally across from you.
You know hesitating isn’t good, but you also know that admitting to your crush on Loki is not good. You don’t want all the teases. You just want the feelings to go away and stop complicating your life.
“The hesitation says a lot.” Tony is staring at you now, and you’ve never been able to hide anything from him. And you’re lucky Nat decided to drink tonight, or she’d be reading all your secrets too.
“Fine. Fine. Cap of course. The whole star-spangled thing is... eye-catching.”
The laughs sound out and Clint smirks. You don’t look at either Steve or Loki as the game continues.
“Alright Thor, what’s your question?” Clint asks, allowing the game to continue, and you’re so grateful. The game goes for another hour, and you find the questions easier when they’re not about Loki and so it’s fun to make fun of the other Avengers and listen to their laughs. It’s so joyous here, and you’re glad to be a part of it.
“Well, I hate to be the responsible adult here, but I’ve got a 7 am meeting, so let’s call it a night.”
“Tony? Responsible?” Nat laughs.
“Once in a lifetime achievement. You’re all lucky to be witnesses.”
The teasing continues as they leave the living room for their floors. You don’t notice you’re following Nat to the kitchen until you’re both putting your glasses in the sink.
Nat nods to you and leans forward. “You can’t fool me.”
You blink. “I’m tired. Talk in the morning?”
“Glad you know I won’t let this drop.” Her eyes soften. “But yes. I will let you sleep first, figure out your story.” She winks.
There’s movement from beside you. and you don’t have to look to know it’s Loki.
“Want me to walk you back to your room, or should Loki do the honors?”
You know you’re blushing. but you look to Loki and then back to Nat and glare at her. “I’ll let you walk me back.”
Loki moves quicker than you’re expecting, stepping toward you with a small smirk on his face, mischief and something softer in his eyes. “Wrong choice, darling.”
And oh, oh, you’re gone. Your breath catches and you don’t really think you can feel your heart anymore and is it possible to be instantly five degrees hotter? It’s his voice that does things to you that should be illegal and the way he moves toward you with such intent, and whatever he asks you know you’ll give it to him.
Your back hits the fridge, and you’re helpless to look away from his eyes, his cheeks, his lips, his chin, his eyes, his lips.
“Want to reconsider your answer to that question and a previous one tonight?”
Your heart is pounding in your chest, throat dry, and the chill of the fridge isn’t enough to cool you off.
“What?” You’re barely capable of coherent thought right now. Loki’s leaning in now and your brain is white noise and is your heart pounding straight out of your chest?
“Me or Steve?” You stare at his lips as they form those words and have to swallow before dragging your gaze back to his eyes, flashing green and entirely serious and oh, oh no, he can’t play with you like this. Doesn’t he know what he does to you?
“What would my answer change?” You aren’t breathing correctly anymore and you don’t know why you don’t just admit that duh, it’s Loki. It’s always Loki because it’s so obvious now as you can hardly control your reactions to him.
“Whether or not I kiss you goodnight.”
Your eyes go wide, your mouth falls open, and your heart stops beating, lungs stop working, brain stops processing.
Nat’s laugh is what brings you out of it. “I think you broke them, Lokes.”
Loki doesn’t take his gaze off you, and that’s what kicks your brain back online. He’s not laughing or smirking. He’s serious. Maybe just to satisfy his curiosity, but you know how few in his life actually choose him and you want him to know that you do. You choose him. Over everyone.
You bite your lip a second before taking a breath and answering.
“Of course it’s you. Didn’t want to admit it because of all the teasing so I said Steve. But it’s been you for a while now.” You look away and shrug, not sure you want to see the rest of his reaction as his expression didn’t change as you spoke.
“Of course?” And he sounds confused so you meet his gaze now.
“Wouldn't seriously choose anyone else.” You mumble out, embarrassed by it because Nat is still there.
“Let’s get you to bed.” Loki holds out his hand. It’s instinct to grab his hand, and it’s warm and calloused yet soft all at once, a contradiction just like him. And when Loki pulls you to his side and you can feel his body against yours, your brain blanks out again.
It’s a silent walk back to your door, and you wonder what Loki thinks of you now, but it’s three-thirty in the morning and you don’t quite care anymore so you keep his hand in yours as you step from his side to punch in your door code. (It helps you sleep better to have a code on your locked door, despite knowing that you are beyond safe in the Avengers tower.)
“Goodnight, darling.” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the already warm skin, his mouth warm against your hand and it’s a moment that should remain unbroken forever and it seems to go on for just that long, but Loki raises his eyes to meet yours and then it’s over and his hand is slipping from yours and you step forward, not quite sure what you’re doing but knowing you don’t want this to be over. But Loki knows better than you what you want and as your fingers touch his face and your palms slide along his cheeks he’s already in your personal space with his face inches from yours.
“You’re tired, love.” And you know he’s right. You know that you’re only doing this because you don’t want this to go away in the morning, not because you’re ready. You’re not one to rush into things. And you definitely don’t want to rush this if tomorrow you wake up and it’s still here and Loki is still serious.
“You’ll be here in the morning?” you ask.
“You choose me. I’ll choose you.” His breath is warm against your cheek, and you sag forward into him letting your hands fall from his face and your head fall to his chest.
“You don’t know–”
“What that means.” He finishes your sentence and places a hand under your chin and tilts your face up so that he can look at you. “I hope you know what your words mean and that you don’t use them in vain because I would never lie to you.”
He’s serious, his words fanning across your cheek. And you swallow, bite your lip to keep from saying something unintelligible. You just nod quickly over and over again.
“The morning then.” He smiles, soft and warm, and leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. “Sleep now.”
He steps away, and you feel the absence of his touch down to your very soul. But it’s okay because you’ll see him in the morning. So you turn and you open your door and you don’t look back. For this to work, there has to be trust. And you trust that these late-night words and touches will mean so much more in the morning.
***
The morning comes, and Loki finds you after breakfast right as Steve invites you on his morning run. Sometimes you join him, depending on how you’re feeling, and after staying up so late last night you’re not really feeling it, but Steve wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t try to encourage you to go running with him, listing the benefits of running. And you know he’s right, that’s usually why you give in, and this morning you’re on the verge of giving in when Loki walks in and wraps his arms around you.
His arms slide around you, and the warmth of his body boils you alive. You’re blushing, and it only gets worse when you meet Steve's eyes and he raises a brow.
Loki rests his head on your shoulder, his dark hair tickling your neck. “Good morning, darling.”
His voice is still raspy from sleep, and you turn and his grip tightens and you’re so not okay right now but yep, yep, he’s still in his pajama top and bottoms with his sleep mussed hair and holy hotness, did he even brush it or did he just finger comb it, and oh, how you wish that it could be your fingers running through his dark hair. It has to be soft right? Oh, please let it be soft.
“I'll see you for our run tomorrow,” Steve promises and leaves the kitchen, and you’ve already forgotten what Steve was talking about, but you manage a nod and that’s all.
“You’re tense,” Loki muses.
“You–” You clear your throat. “You have your arms around me.”
Loki pulls away, leaving you feeling cold. He comes to stand in front of you. “I thought we’d agreed to do this.”
“Do what?” You shake your head. “I got like four hours of sleep. I don't really remember everything that was said.” You bite your lip as you move past him. That’s not entirely true because you remember most everything that was done and said by Loki, but you’re not sure of the meaning behind any of it.
“Oh.”
You turn back around once you’ve poured yourself a glass of water for your suddenly dry throat. Loki looks contemplative and a bit discouraged.
Loki looks up at you with a sudden grin. “Well, you said you’d choose me over Steve. Every time.”
You know you’re blushing again, and it’s ridiculous but all you can answer is, “Yes, that’s true.”
“And then I said I choose you. And that is still true.”
“Right.” You open and close your mouth for a moment, looking for the words. “And that means what exactly?” You take a breath. “Because for me it means that like I...I want to date...you.” You watch his reaction, and his smirk has you burying your face in your hands with a groan.
“Quite eloquent.” He comes up beside you and takes hold of your hand, the warmth of the contact shooting through you and causing you to raise your head. “But I appreciate the honesty.” He brings your hand to his lips and then releases it and steps away one step. He leans on the counter and looks up at you, blue eyes now serious. “I would like to woo you. make you mine. I believe you midgardians do call it dating.” He smiles.
You nod and proceed to stumble over your words. “Yeah, no, yeah, that, uh, is good.”
Loki laughs and turns his head away as he moves into a standing position.
You know your face must be redder than Thor’s cape at this point, and you feel like you’ve been laying out in the sun for far too long but you’re overjoyed too. Loki wants to date you. Last night wasn’t some sleep-deprived misunderstanding. You’re on the same page.
“So like if we went out for hotdogs in Central Park and ice cream, that’d be our first date?”
Loki tilts his head with a questioning smile. “You really want our first date to be disgusting hot dogs from an unsanitary street merchant?”
You laugh because you’re nervous. “No. I know you don’t like hotdogs. I know that. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don't need anything fancy. I don't want anything fancy. I…” And your smile goes soft. “I just want to spend time with you. Actually, I’d be more fine with ordering in hibachi and turning on the PS4 and crushing you at Star Wars Battlefront, and then going out for ice cream. Bad or awkward things tend to happen when I go out with the Avengers.”
Loki laughs. “You do seem to be our bad luck charm.”
“Right, and I don't want to mess up our first date. So let’s stay in.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Loki smiles, and your heart flutters in your chest. He's still in his pajamas just as relaxed as can be in the kitchen as the two of you plan your date, and it's unbelievable in a sense that last night’s game turned into this.
“I should go get dressed.” He moves forward. “Is it frowned upon to kiss on the first date?”
You shake your head, and he takes a step closer.
“Right, and the date begins when exactly?” He tilts his head and narrows his eyes and that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is.
“Now,” you say, blinking up at him.
He smiles, slow and sexy, and you find yourself leaning toward him. He steps close, a hand on your waist.
“I'm going to kiss you now.”
“Yep.”
He dips his head down and his hand comes up and tilts your chin up. His lips are warm against yours and you melt against him. He slides his hand from your chin to your neck before sliding around to your shoulder, providing his arm as a cushion for your head. It’s the softest, most gentlest kiss, and you never want it to end but end it must as all good things do.
Loki pulls away with a small soft smile on his lips and you lean up and kiss him again, just a simple press of the lips to his. He grins and laughs. And you laugh too, staring into his blue eyes and hoping that that kind of a kiss will happen a hundred times again. You’ll never tire of it, never tire of Loki. And you get the feeling he feels the same about you.
#swoonjune2021#day 28#reader fic#loki x reader#domestic fluff#loki x gender neutral reader#loki x gn!reader#loki#loki laufeyson#loki odinson#avengers#loki fic#mcu fic#loki oneshot#loki laufeyson oneshot
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BOTW (and AOC) GUYS: RANKED BY HOW HOT THEY ARE
get ready for some heinous opinions! so im ranking the guys in botw by how hot they are and im taking No criticism. idk if i forgot anyone but i tried
check it out under the cut
sorry but this twink is just. average. like Painfully average. hes like white bread. therefore he gets an average score. i can appreciate hes a cute lookin guy? but like. thats it. if u fancy link u probably like mayonnaise. he looks like mayonnaise. grow a fuckin tache or smth dude for the love of god. 5/10 very normal.
ok im a diehard bird simp but like... this boy is fuckin ugly lmao. hes pretty at the same time tho? nice smile, nice eyes, nice voice but yellow eyebrows? green eyes? red makeup? clown. he’s a bird clown. tho i guess some ppl find clowns hot so this one’s for the pennywise crowd. 5/10. he’s a 10/10 in my heart tho.
now this is a MAN. u got the good smile, the strong arms, the r i p p l i n g m u s c l e s. he is a man u can trust. his arm hair is a bit wild but if u dont like his incredible facial hair, then.... idc. 7/10. they made a rock handsome. thats impressive. 3 points off for the forehead vagina tho. dont like that.
hot fucking damn. this is what we in the biz call a raging dilf. he looks like the kind of dad that never grew out of his punk rock phase. idk how i feel abt the broken traffic light look but its fine. just look into his gorgeous eyes and listen 2 his deep gravelly voice as he tells u to fuck off and leave him alone. perfection. the voice already makes him like 20/10 but the mullet is fucking awful and he should be penalised for that. 8/10. grow a fringe like the rest of us.
ah the shape of water... ok yeah the fish is fuckable ill grant u that. hes All fuckin torso tho and his eyes r constantly pointing in different directions which is not the Most Flattering Look and he Will hit u with his head handlebars and it will hurt. the 24-pack aint half bad either but i always get this feeling that he looks like he skips... some kind of day. not arm day, not leg day, but... some kind of day. maybe brain day. 8/10. sharp teeth are always sexy.
10/10. i dont fuckin care if u hate his hair- this man probably invented the most effective hairspray in existence just to make that happen. respect him. u cannot deny hes hot tho like theres just Something about him. the confidence... the attitude... i worry about revealing his eyes tho. theres a 50% chance it will not work in ur favour and he’ll just look heinous. full 10/10 tho. old robbie is also not bad 2 look at if ur not a coward but he Might leave u for an easy bake oven so like. watch out for that.
well the queen saw something in him??? i genuinely fear the idea of ever getting to see his chin from under that magnificent beard tho. he’s probably got the jawline of a russian power lifter. anyway for an old guy hes not lookin that bad so long as u dont mind a receding hairline. ill b nice. 5/10. for a king u could do worse. ill be taking complaints about this take in my dms. bring a bat.
where do i begin. i love beedle. i rlly do but theres.... so much going on. personality is a 10/10, business skills are 10/10/ haircut is -50/10 and the crop top....? well ill give him 10/10 for confidence. 4/10 im sorry he is just a Lot to look at. he looks like rock lee tried to become a slutty pirate king. shonen jump will have a lot to answer for.
the colour scheme is... better than revali, tho i didnt realise how obnoxious it was until i actually got a good look at him. ive never seen a bird look so top heavy before but this mans got 5 kids so i have nothing but respect for my king. kass is for the dilf crowd that like the dad bods. 8/10 he is quite nice to look at ngl. he’s like revali but light mode.
ok yunobo is very cute i wont lie but the hair is just massively disarming. idk its all i can think about. is this a goron emo phase?? is that what that is?? ive been staring at it for like 5 minutes and i still cant work out if i like it or not. 5/10 he is a humble lad.
under all that gear kohga could look like willem dafoe x50 and id still find him attractive. he cant be hot tho. he just cant be. like looks wise he has to be 1/10 under that there is no way this man could feasibly be conventionally attractive and tbh i like it that way. banana boy gets 6/10. hotter than revali. revali looks like a clown but kohga looks like the entire fucking circus
there is nothing unattractive about bolson. 10/10. sha-ding
i hate the hair i hate the hair i hate the hair i hate the hair SO fucking much but the voice. he has to be hot under that gear with a voice like that. if hes not well. just close ur eyes. the voice will take care of the rest. 8/10 the crack in his mask actually makes him look sexier and i dont understand how that can happen
????????????????????????? he looks. like an old man? i swear those big wingy bits are his eyebrows but i cant Quite be sure. why would a tree need eyebrows. ??/10 keep ur questionable gifts to urself
-100000/10 who the fuck let this budget pokemon npc in here. he looks like he should b leading team ganon across the kanto region. he probably draws those lines on his face to make himself look older and listens to mother mother. im gonna punch his third eye. no this is not a biased opinion
#botw#breath of the wild#aoc#age of calamity#link#revali#teba#sidon#daruk#astor#prince sidon#hestu#kohga#sooga#yunobo#kass#bolson#beedle#legend of zelda#robbie
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sick day | tsukishima kei
pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader
word count, genre: 1.7k words, college au, fluff, childhood friends to maybe lovers.
warning: none!
summary: you and tsukishima have been friends for as long as the both of you can remember. and when you’re down with the flu, he’s left with no choice but to take care of you.
“Can you drop by their home and give them this paper?”
Tsukishima stares blankly at the piece of paper and back at the girl who approached him. He hasn’t even gotten up from his chair when Yachi stopped him.
He already knows who she was referring to and was quick to turn her down. “Move. I’m packing my bag.”
The girl grumbles, moving out of the way but continues, “Come on! You know where they live.”
“Correction, you know it too.” Tsukishima retorts. He walks past her, striding with his long legs over to the door and exiting. But Yachi was hot on his trail. “Why don’t you do it yourself?”
Yachi groans, “I would but I’m too busy with the school paper right now. I have to head to the office to assist in lay-outing this month’s release.” She stops in her tracks, catching Tsukishima’s wrist and turning him around. “You live in the same neighborhood. Please, I promise I’ll repay you.”
She waves the paper in front of him, and eventually, he’s left with no choice but to do the task. He sighs before snatching the form and turning on his heel, “You owe me.”
—
As he walks the familiar route towards home, he wonders about the last time he saw you in campus. It had actually been three days since then. Worried, his mind runs about hundreds of possibilities about why you hadn’t showed up in classes.
The only possible thing that he could think of was that you were down with a flu. This predicament that he was in right now oddly reminds him of a time in middle school when you were absent for a week because of a severe cold. Growing up, he’s noticed that you were extremely prone to getting sick and Tsukishima always berates you for not taking care of yourself properly. Especially during flu season.
When he passes by a convenience store, he decides to buy some instant porridge, water, and medicine. He wonders if your family were at home but gets the answer that he was looking for when he’s arrived in front of your house with the lights off.
He eyes the building and notices the faint light coming from the side which he knows was your room.
Tsukishima enters the door, unlocking it with ease as he inputs the passcode he’s known since the both of you were kids. He feels for the switch on the wall and turns the lights open.
He makes his way to the kitchen and places everything on the counter. He’s in the process of boiling some water when he hears footsteps walking closer.
“Who’s there?” Your voice sounds weak and when Tsukishima turns, he sees you, cozily bundled in a hoodie and holding on to a blanket as you lean on the wall for support.
He’s quick on his feet to help and sit you down on a chair. “You shouldn’t have left your bed,” he mutters under his breath.
You recognize the voice, “Kei? What are you doing here?”
He was back on the counter, opening the pack of porridge and filling it with water to cook for five minutes. He hands you a glass of water and you down it. “Yachi told me to tell you about our final project in Literature.” He takes the paper from his bag and sticks it on the refrigerator with a magnet. “Here’s the reference. Don’t lose it.”
You manage to let out a small chuckle. “Look at you, being kind for once.”
“Shut up.” But his words say otherwise when the look in his eyes are soft, watching over you to make sure you didn’t fall from the chair. “Where’s everybody?”
You put your head on the table and groan. “They’re out to visit the grandparents in the countryside. Said I couldn’t make it because of school requirements but here I am.”
“You’ve been alone this whole time?”
“Yeah,” you say with a yawn.
He tuts at you to show his disapproval, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?”
“Eh, no one would have bothered anyway.”
He hands you the hot dish and you take it with a whispered thanks. You devour it in silence, relishing in the warmth that fills your body. Tsukishima hangs back, saying nothing and only observes as you eat what looks like the first decent meal you’ve had since you’ve been sick.
“I would.”
His sudden answer almost makes you sputter the food out from your mouth. You look at him, and though it was dark, you could make out his features and the way he was staring at you with such intensity.
“I mean, I’m here now, aren’t I?” He takes a seat beside you, taking the cup from your hands and feeding you the last few scoops. “My parents would have made me come here either way to check on you.”
You curse the way your heart flutters at his words. The heat on your cheeks not anymore caused by your fever but by Tsukishima who was sitting way too close for your comfort and helping you finish the porridge. After he gives you the medicine, he extends his arm out and you look at him in question.
“Come on, I’m bringing you back to your room.” When you don’t make a move, he pulls you up to your feet and hooks one arm around your waist to keep you steady by his side. The two of you begin the slow trek to your room.
He’s careful to lay you down on the mattress, cradling your head as he fluffs and positions the pillow under you. You seem to be already lost in your dreams when he pulls the blanket over your body, tucking you in and making sure you were warm. When he’s done, he kneels down by the side of your bed and gazes at you.
He’s transfixed on memorizing the outlines of your face—the one thing he’d never admit he always liked to do whenever he went to your house for sleepovers years ago. Absentmindedly, he traces your features, sighing as he wanted so badly to tell you off about not properly taking care of yourself.
“Kei.”
Surprised, he pulls back his hand, “What?” He knows you’d tease him to no end when you saw what he was doing.
“You should be like this all the time,” you say sleepily with a smile. “Who knew you had a sweet and caring side in you?”
He smirks, “Don’t push your luck.” He puts the back of his hand on your forehead to determine whether your fever has gone down. It was still hotter than normal and Tsukishima only sighs, “You should really learn to look after yourself.”
Burying yourself deeper in the blankets, you hum, “But I like having you take care of me.”
He’s surprised, mostly at the way your voice sounded so calm and soft when you said those words. Because he knows that on any other day, you’d have responded with a smart quip and maybe a punch to his arm. He’s aware it could be the flu talking, making you bare your true feelings similarly to how a drunk man would reveal their sober thoughts. But will you remember them when you wake up tomorrow?
He laughs quietly before leaning to press a kiss to your temple, “I don’t mind it too.”
But you were already fast asleep to have heard anything.
—
The following day, you woke up as if you never had intense fever the night before. The bad headache and chills that you felt was gone and you could move your body without feeling heavy. So not wanting to miss out more on lectures, you got ready and finally went back to school.
To say that Yachi was overjoyed to see you was an understatement. Your friend sighed of relief and ran to tackle you with a hug the second she saw you step foot on campus. She caught you up to speed about everything that has happened and the tasks that your professors on your shared classes has assigned.
The two of you were settling in your seats when she remembers, “By the way, did you receive the paper about our Literature project? I had Tsukishima bring it to you.”
“Really? I didn’t receive anything.”
And just as she was about to complain about Tsukishima, the door opens loudly and the said boy enters the room.
“Oh, Kei! Great timing, we were just talking about you,” you greeted as your childhood friend headed straight to your desks.
Meanwhile, Yachi complained, “Tsukishima, I told you to pass over the reference to them.”
The boy just walked past her, and stopped in front of you. He stuck out a pack of banana milk (your favorite drink) and some fruits, making you confused at the sudden gesture.
“What’s this?”
“You skip your breakfasts, right?” You were shocked that he knew about your unhealthy habit. “I don’t want you getting sick again so make sure you eat properly.”
Yachi’s jaw dropped at his nice attitude. You’re wary as you take drink and snacks from his hand, looking at him as if he grew another head on his body. “You’re being suspicious, Kei. What do you need?”
He takes the seat beside you, laughing when he turns towards you with a wicked smile that has your heart beating faster.
“I’m just doing what I need to do as your friend.” He resumes to fix his things on the table. “Besides, weren’t you the one who said you liked me taking care of you?”
You stutter, cheeks feeling hot as vague snippets from when Kei visited you and took care of you came flashing in your mind. Yachi was now giggling and congratulating you for finally confessing. As you watched the grin on his face, you wished for a hole to appear on the ground and swallow you whole.
Because your crush on your longtime childhood friend was something you never wanted him to know.
But that thought was quickly erased when Tsukishima leaned close and whispered,
“For what it’s worth, I like you too.”
And since then, Tsukishima started keeping you close and took care of you in the little ways he knows how just so you never have to experience a sick day again.
#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#tsukishima x reader#tsukishima imagines#haikyuucreations#haikyuucafe#tsukishima fluff#haikyuu fluff#tsukishima x you#tsukishima x y/n#haikyuu fics#haikyuu x you#tsukishima kei x reader#hq tsukishima#haikyuu!!
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pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 13.4k / genre: fluff + comedy (I suppose)
summary: you work the night shift in a supermarket. and now your crush, aka the cutest boy in the world, aka the guy you’ve been thirsting after for months, aka jeon jungkook, works the night shift too. les geddit
warnings: this fic is sfw BUT there is cursing/explicit language—the reader is thirsty af, just SO thirsty, seriously the thirstiest, but other than that this fic is pretty soft
a/n: thank you to my darling friend and beta reader @hobi-gif, without whom this would have remained an unpublished fic I just wrote for funsies, and also to @yeojaa for reading this through and enjoying this terrible self indulgence of mine, you’re both queens
--
Why is it that all the interesting things happen whenever you’re not at work? Like the time you'd been off for one (1) night so that you could move into your new place, so you hadn't witnessed the full on brawl between a customer and the security guard right before the store shut. Or the other time when you were twenty minutes late because of road closures and you’d missed all the free doughnuts—Yoongi hadn’t even saved you one, opting to give it to his crush instead, even though Jimin wasn’t even night shift.
(Yoongi was a Judas, betraying you all because of a little thirst. Snake.)
(Okay, sure, you're friends with Jimin too, but still.)
Anyway. You’re here almost all weeks of the year, and the few times you’re not, that’s when things get interesting. Working in any sort of retail job is boring at best, especially when the store is shut overnight (customers during the day were awful but at least they provided an ever rotating cast of varying characters that could provide amusing anecdotes to add to your repertoire), and it’s downright frustrating whenever you miss out on the few variations to your usually monotonous nights just because you happened to miss it.
Yoongi is also The Worst at keeping you updated. He has little to no interest in gossip and keeps himself firmly out of unnecessary interpersonal drama, staying uninvolved by being entirely unapproachable and blanking people whenever they try to talk to him. You keep out of it too, but in a different way— you don’t get involved in drama because everyone likes you. You’re personable and social, almost to a clownish degree, somehow treading the line between being Nice and Firm, so people simultaneously like you while also being wary of annoying you.
Either way. When you’re not there, Yoongi doesn’t go out of his way to find out any developments, so you’re always left floundering to catch up with whatever’s gone on so that you can keep your position as Liked-By-All-Sides as secure.
So, with all of this in mind, when he says that nothing interesting has happened in the two weeks since you’ve been off, you’re understandably sceptical, raising an eyebrow at him from where you’re reclining in his passenger seat. The entire supermarket could have burned down while he’d been working and Yoongi would probably say of the event afterwards—if pressed—that it had ‘been a little hotter than usual’.
(At least Jimin indulges you with petty gossip. You’re certain he’d let you know about any new developments, but he’s not on a late shift tonight, much to the disappointment of both yourself and Yoongi—although he won't admit it.)
You hadn’t sensed any ripples in the Force when you’d stepped into the supermarket. Everything looked the same, all the way down to the slightly wonky sign on the front display that was trying to persuade customers to buy the new lines of overpriced olives and antipasti, and nothing felt any different on your journey up to the locker rooms; the poster asking everyone to book their holiday before the 26th June 2001 was still up, as it should be; the sight of Yoongi walking in the direction of the staff canteen as you went to dump your stuff in your locker was as familiar as normal. You were usually good at sniffing out change, but everything had passed your smell check and so you let your guard down, bursting into the break room with your usual aplomb.
That’s one thing about night shift that people don’t usually realise. Because there aren’t customers around, you can yell up and down the shop floor as much as you like (it’s usually faster than walking around to find someone) and swear or be inappropriate in ways that wouldn’t fly during the day (like bowling products across the floor instead of walking up to the shelf and putting them down). You don’t swear or yell, really, but the amount of time you’ve spent on nights has increased your overall volume and altered your verbal filter, so once you’ve kicked the door open, what comes out of your mouth is as follows:
“Wassup everyone? Ya girl is back from her time off and is absolutely RARING to go! I know you all missed me, but please, no flash photography,” you simper. You hear Yoongi snort into his coffee from his seat on the sofa, directly under the sign that says ‘No Food Or Drink Allowed On The Sofas’ alongside a picture of a dancing hot dog with a massive red X across it.
Most of your coworkers are a lot older than you—young people don’t tend to work overnight—so they don’t match your level of energy, but they’re still pleased to see you nonetheless, a little chorus of hellos greeting you when you walk into the room. You shoot finger guns at them, ending with an overly theatrical wink at Taehyung, wiggling your fingers in a wave at the boy as he grins at you through his mouthful of food (he’s not night shift but he finishes a lot of his shifts late so you're on friendly terms).
When you flop down next to Yoongi he wordlessly hands you a coffee. You hiss a little at the contact of the hot mug against your skin—he’s holding onto the handle, and you’re quick to accept it from him so you don’t burn yourself—and peer down at the hot liquid before taking a small drink.
You’re mid-sip when your eyes flick up from the mug and you immediately splutter. You cough and hack, eyes filling with tears as you try to swallow the noises down to no avail; you sound distressed enough that even Yoongi gets concerned, thumping you on the back as you make a noise akin to a cat wheezing out a hairball.
“Yoongi.” Your voice is pained as you look out of the corner of your eye at the boy sitting next to you. “I thought you said nothing interesting had happened while I was off?”
Yoongi looks perplexed. “Nothing did,” he says. Somehow you resist the overwhelming urge to pour your coffee all over him.
“Then explain to me exactly why the Muscle Boy from morning shift who works on fruit and veg is sat over there in a night shift uniform,” you hiss.
“Oh, yeah.” Yoongi sounds entirely disinterested. “He moved on to nights the first week you were off.”
So not only has the hitherto-unreachable object of your affections moved on to your shift—great, you weren't mentally prepared for that at all—he'd apparently witnessed your unnecessarily theatrical entrance, as well as your subsequent near death experience via coffee. You wish that the near death experience had, in fact, been a full death experience; your final moments may have been undignified but at least you’d have gone out while looking at a pretty face and not have to live with the embarrassment afterwards, knowing that Jeon Jungkook had witnessed you spluttering coffee down your chin.
Normally your Jungkook-radar (Kookiedar? You’ll have to work on the name for it) is faultless, flawless, sensitive to his exact location at all times—but he was never there at night. You only saw him in the mornings, catching glimpses of him on your way out, lifting heavy crates of bananas or potatoes onto the displays. But he’s here, now, sat on his own table, alone, away from the other workers.
While you hadn’t spotted him before, what with how he’s sequestered himself alone, from your vantage point now? You can clearly see him, and you know that he would have had full view of you from the moment you’d stepped into the room.
He's on night shift now. With you.
“Yoongi, buddy?”
“Yeah?”
“If I asked you to kill me, would you do it?”
“No." His answer is immediate, but before you can be warmed by the fact he doesn’t wish for your imminent death, he continues: “I’d have to find someone else to reduce food for me, and I can’t go back to buying full priced noodles after this long.”
“I’ll reduce your head from your body,” you threaten, even though it makes no sense. Yoongi doesn’t react outwardly to this threat but you would wager anything that he was quivering in his boots, even though he’s doing a very good job of calmly sipping at his coffee. Ahh, Yoongi, always the master of the pokerface, despite the fact he must be terrified.
Anyway. You’re getting distracted. Basically, snake Yoongi had snaked on you and hadn’t told you about Jungkook transferring to night shift, like the snake he was. Yoongi being the snake, that is, not Jungkook. He wasn’t a snake. Sure, you’d never spoken to him in all the months you’d seen him and knew next to nothing about him but no one could be a snake when they looked that innocent. Besides, you’d seen him help customers, smiling at the old ladies who asked for him to reach for specific bits of fruit from higher shelves, or carrying their shopping for them, or—
Argh, you were getting distracted again. Essentially he was a hot, muscular angel who hadn’t had your existence on his own radar until approximately five minutes ago, and his first impression of you must be that you are an absolute clown. A buffoon. And, okay, maybe you are, but you usually only let people onto that fact after knowing them for at least a day or two.
He’d looked startled when you’d made eye contact with him across the canteen, tearing his eyes away from you the second you’d tried to inhale coffee instead of ingesting it. You’re grateful that he’s resolutely kept his gaze away, absorbed by something on his phone instead, but he must have heard your desperate wheezing from across the room. Even if you’ve managed to cough away the coffee in your lungs by now it doesn’t detract from the overall embarrassment that threatens to swallow you up.
Beside you, Yoongi continues to drink his coffee like a normal human being. He’s oblivious to your inner turmoil. Of course your crush had moved to night shift when you were on holiday. Of course you’d missed that. Why wouldn’t you? You were a snail and God was salting you. What had you done to deserve such torment?
“I can’t believe you didn’t think a new person was something I’d at least like to be made aware of,” you mutter waspishly. “Especially as he’s around our age! Since Hobi left we haven’t had anyone on shift who isn’t at least a decade older than us, Yoons.”
As is tradition, Yoongi says: “A moment of silence for our boy Hobi.” You both shut your eyes and tilt your heads forward as you mourn your fallen brother. (He wasn’t dead, he’d just moved to a different job a few months ago, although you both still see him on a weekly basis.) And then Yoongi continues: “I guess I didn’t think it was important.”
“Do you have a single wrinkle on your brain, Yoongi? Huh? Or is it completely smooth up there? Why wouldn’t a new night shift worker be something I’d want to know about?”
“I figured you’d find out eventually anyway.” Yoongi shrugs.
“I hope a stack of bread falls on you,” you say.
You’re glad when it hits 9pm and your manager, Sejin, gets everyone’s attention for the huddle so he can tell everyone where they’re working for the night. You normally don’t pay much attention but this time you’re like a bloodhound on a scent trail, sniffing out what where Jungkook is going to be.
“Jungkook, you’re on the fruit and veg section,” your manager says, and your nostrils flare. Of course. You’re entirely unsurprised when he delegates Jungkook to the fruit and vegetable aisles— it’s what the boy is familiar with, after all.
Most people in the store have areas they’re better at and do the same thing over and over, but you’re a bit of a wildcard, happy to work anywhere, so your own role varies a bit. You’d actually been there longer than Sejin, who’s a fairly new manager; he’d latched desperately onto you when he realised that you a) had been trained on pretty much everything and b) were also a pretty decent worker, on the whole, and so he allows you more freedom than he might afford other people.
So, because of this, you know that if you asked then he’d happily move you to a different area of the store, but you don't actually know where you want to go. You’re torn between hoping that you’re in a section near Jungkook (so you can ogle him) or the opposite of the store (so you’re saved any further shame due to the fact that you’re an absolute dunderhead, just an absolute embarrassment, why were you allowed outside?), but then Sejin tells you your job for the night and you can’t help a groan from escaping you.
“It’s my first shift back after my holiday and you want me to reduce all night?”
You can’t help but sound a little whiny. Reducing is so boring. Looking through everything on the shelf and scanning it and then having to stick the reduced labels on them? Over and over and over? For the whole night? Your brain is already shutting down in anticipation for the repetitive monotony. (You have to try to conserve what few brain cells you have left and you're not about to waste them on this.)
Sejin looks genuinely apologetic. “Some day staff called in sick so there weren’t enough people to finish everything. You only have the meat and fish sections to do.”
You’re so distressed at the idea of having to sift through piles of meat that you don’t notice how Jungkook perks up at this, sitting up a little in his seat; if you’d been paying attention you’d realise that the meat and fish area is directly adjacent to fruit and veg, both sections within direct eyesight of each other. Instead you’re remembering the time you’d had a packet of sea bass leak on you and no matter how many times you’d washed your hands, the fishy smell had remained. Eurgh.
“Alright, that’s everything!” Sejin claps his hands together. “Let’s get to work, everyone.”
There’s the usual grumblings and mutterings as people start to make their way out of the canteen and downstairs to start work. You take Yoongi’s mug from him and dump both of your empty cups into the hatch of the canteen, already resigning yourself to a long night of misery and boredom. Why did you choose to work in a supermarket, again?
You dawdle around upstairs for longer than you probably should once everyone’s gone, dreading the fact that you’re going to have to properly introduce yourself to Jungkook. Night shift is very insular and you can assume that no one’s introduced themselves to him or made an effort to be friendly— hence why he's been sitting alone. You’re the one person who works overnight who actually goes out of their way to introduce themselves to any new starters, but you’re fairly certain that if you try to introduce yourself to Jungkook you’ll end up throwing up on him. He’s just so hot that it makes you nervous.
You make a long drawn out ahhhhhhhhhhh noise, letting your frustration out before straightening up and puffing out your chest. It’s fine! You’re fine. You’re a strong, confident, smart night shift worker who’s introduced herself to new people multiple times before. Jungkook is just another person. Sure, he’s the cutest guy you’ve ever seen, but he’s just another person. It’s fine.
It’s not fine.
The second you round the corner to the fruit and veg section on your way to meat and fish, you see Jungkook effortlessly heft a massive crate of grapefruit as if it weighs nothing and you want to pass out. The one time you’d tried to lift a crate like that you’d almost done your back in, but Jungkook just lifts it with ease.
What’s worse is that while you’ve seen him do this before, he’d been wearing a day shift uniform at the time. The day shift uniform is, honestly, pretty ugly, an ugly beige long-sleeve button up with an equally ugly tan tie under an ugly grey apron (but of course Jungkook had still looked radiant in spite of the ugly ensemble he was forced to wear). The night shift uniform isn’t necessarily attractive either, a simple black polo shirt and combat trousers, but unlike the button up, the polo shirt is a t-shirt— and Jungkook’s rolled the already shorter sleeves up so that all of his arm is on display (holy shit he has tattoos). You can see the flex of his muscles in all their glory, the way his biceps bulge as he lifts the crate higher, the veins that run down to his hands, and your mouth floods with saliva.
“Arm,” you say.
“Pardon?” Jungkook looks up, confused, and then startles when he sees you.
“Um, nothing!” you stutter. There’s a loose lock of hair hanging across his forehead and you stare at that rather than looking into his eyes. You’d probably burst into flames if you made eye contact right now. “I just wanted to, uh, introduce myself? I know you’ve been working nights for a few weeks now so I’m kind of late, but I was on holiday. I’m Y/n.”
“I know,” Jungkook says, and then he sees how your eyes widen and he scrabbles to explain. “Uh, Sejin said it during the meeting.” He swallows.
You cough. Of course. There’s no other reason Jungkook would have known your name without you telling him; you sincerely doubt he’d sleuthed your name out via the rotas pinned on the board, much as you had with him. (You swear you’re not a stalker, he’s just really cute, okay?)
“I’m Jungkook,” he finishes, laughing awkwardly.
“I guessed,” you say, pointing at his name badge like that’s the reason you know it. He stares down at his chest, as if he’d forgotten that he had it pinned there, and although you'd genuinely been looking at the badge, you suddenly notice that you can see the definition of his pecs even with the thick fabric of the polo shirt. You want to pass out again. You need to divert your attention to something else, stat, your brain scrambling for something to say next. “You know, you’re the only person on night shift who’s wearing a badge. No one else does.”
You wince. Great. Now you sound like an asshole. Nice going, idiot.
Jungkook glances away from his badge to your finger, which is still pointing. He’s staring at your nail polish. Even though no one cares what the night shift gets up to, nail polish is technically against the rules and you wonder if he’s about to say something derogatory—you’d deserve it, you were just kind of a dick to him—when he smiles instead. “I like your nails.”
“O-oh,” you stutter, surprised. They’re nothing special, the colour a little chipped in places, but you’re still flattered by how genuine Jungkook’s compliment sounds. “Um. Thanks.” And because you have a habit of responding to compliments with one of your own, you say: "I really like your tattoos. The flowers are beautiful."
Jungkook looks stunned and doesn't respond. You spend a few moments staring at each other before Sejin rounds the corner, and you both abruptly turn away so it doesn’t look like you’re just standing around and talking instead of working (although that is, in fact, what you’re doing). You hustle over to the meat section, grabbing packs of bacon and pretending to look at the dates, even though you have no idea what date it is. No thoughts head full of Jungkook.
Over the years, you’ve mastered the art of Quick Glancing™. While to anyone watching you it would seem as though you’re absorbed in your work, sifting through food to check if it’s going out of date, you’re actually looking at Jungkook more often than not. Whenever it seems like he might catch you, your eyes dart back to whatever cut of meat you’re holding at the time—a box of liver, eww, slimy—but you spend the majority of the time watching him move around. You can’t help but wonder if he’d lift you as easily as those crates and have to suppress a full body shiver. Down, girl.
Yoongi appears like clockwork the second it hits midnight, leaning against the fridge as you stare at a pack of chicken wings. “Coffee time.”
“Oh, thank God.” You straighten up, unceremoniously dropping the chicken wings onto the shelf. “Caffeine, I need caffeine, get me the caffeine.”
You get the caffeine. You and Yoongi always go back to the canteen at midnight for coffee—even though you’re technically not meant to—and bring your mugs downstairs—something else you’re also not meant to do. You drink your coffee between looking at the packets of food on the shelf, sifting through trays of chicken breasts and stickering whatever's due to go out of date as Yoongi idles around near you, peering at everything you’ve slapped a reduced label on. He clicks his tongue at a lacklustre reduction, unimpressed at how little money has been slashed off the price, and honestly? Mood.
“Don’t you have bread to put out?”
“Finished it. I’m waiting for the next delivery.” Yoongi yawns, but then his eyes suddenly narrow as he looks in the direction of fruit and veg. “Your new little friend keeps looking at us. I think he might be a narc.”
“Huh? Oh, Jungkook?” You look up from the chicken thighs. Jungkook is far out of earshot but clearly visible, hunched over a shelf as he starts to furiously organise some courgettes. “Nah, I don’t think he’s a narc. Besides, what’s Sejin going to do? Fire us? We get coffee all the time and he's never said anything about it before.”
“Yeah, but Jungkook doesn’t know that.” Yoongi scowls. He sounds suspicious. “Hm. I’m going to go back to bread, but keep an eye on that one.”
He doesn’t have to tell you twice. “Got it,” you say with a salute.
Yoongi wanders off but not before throwing Jungkook a sharp look, which the boy doesn’t notice, resolutely staring at the courgettes. Seems like he’s really intent on making them look neat, which you think is kind of unnecessary, but whatever. It's kind of cute actually.
You don’t think Jungkook is a snitch, but you do have to admit it’s maybe a little weird how often you seem to catch him watching you, though he’s very quick to look away. Your suspicions grow somewhat when he ends up in the canteen at the same time as you, eating your lunch a lot later than everyone else. You like the peace and quiet when the room is almost empty.
Yoongi normally has lunch with you, but today he’d had to eat earlier because Sejin had asked him to help unload the delivery lorry, so you’re alone in the room with Jungkook. Although he sits on the table farthest away from you, it’s maybe a bit strange that he’s up there when you are. Like, sure, you do appreciate the fact that you can gawk at him a little bit more, but maybe Yoongi is right about him being a narc?
Nah. You’re probably just being paranoid. Jungkook is clearly introverted, not talking to the other guys working on the fruit and veg section, so he probably came up at the quietest time of day (/night) so he could avoid everyone. You can understand that.
Your lunch is almost over and you’re in the middle of making yourself and Yoongi another cup of coffee to take downstairs when Jungkook suddenly appears at your shoulder. You yelp in surprise when you notice him there, scattering coffee granules across the counter instead of dropping them in the cup like you’d meant to, clutching your chest in shock.
“Oh, God, sorry,” he apologises, and he fumbles as he scoops the granules into his palm to clear them up—and then he just stands there with a handful of instant coffee as he looks at you. You’re still clutching your heart. “Uh. I was wondering, do you bring your own coffee in?”
“Yes,” you say, cagey, unsure what he wants. You notice that he’s unintentionally cornered you against the counter, and now that your earlier shock has ebbed away, you can’t help but notice your height difference when he’s this close to you. “Can’t get coffee overnight otherwise. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, uh, I just didn’t realise we were allowed to?” Jungkook sounds awkward, unsure. “I would have brought my own in if I’d known.”
You stare at him for a second. Yoongi would kill you if he saw what you did next, but you just end up turning around to grab another mug and dump a spoonful of coffee into it. “Do you have milk or sugar?”
“Huh?”
“Do you have milk or sugar? In your coffee?” You repeat carefully, tapping a spoon against the third mug, trying to tamp down the blush that’s threatening to appear on your cheeks when you glance at Jungkook over your shoulder. “You want one, right?”
“Oh.” He goes a little lax with surprise, apparently not realising that he’s done so until he drops a few bits of coffee on the floor and then lifts his hand again—you can see where the granules that are directly in contact with his skin have started to dissolve a little, sticky. The pile of coffee looks so small in his big hands. You want to eat out of his palm, as gross as that thought is. “Yeah, milk and sugar, please.”
As he goes to wash the coffee from his hands, you stare at yourself in the reflection of the metal kettle, wondering what the fuck you were doing while also trying to tame your thirst into submission. You never let anyone have your coffee (except Yoongi, obviously, and Hobi, when he’d been here) (a moment of silence for your boy) and you’ve known Jungkook for less than one (1) shift and you’ve already initiated him as part of the Coffee Crew.
Yoongi picks up on this immediately, spotting you and Jungkook reemerging onto the shop floor at the same time, although you peel away to visit your friend in the bread section. “Is that a mug that I saw Jungkook holding?”
“Yeah,” you say with forced casualness, wary of Yoongi’s response. Here we go.
But to your surprise he seems pleased. “He can’t narc on us now that he’s drinking coffee on the shop floor too,” Yoongi says.
“Oh, right! Yeah, that was my plan all along.” You force laughter, as if your pulse hadn’t been racing as you’d watched Jungkook take the first sip from the coffee you’d prepared for him, worried that he wouldn’t like it. You’d wanted to vomit your heart out of chest when he’d given you a small, shy smile and said that it was perfect, as if he wasn’t drinking cheap, crappy instant coffee, which was subpar even when it was good.
Yoongi raises his eyebrows at your fake hyena laughter but decides not to comment on it.
He raises his eyebrows again the next night when he witnesses you preparing coffee for Jungkook firsthand, lining up three mugs at midnight instead of just two, making coffee the way Jungkook likes it. “Once was enough to stop him from double crossing us, I think,” Yoongi says.
“I’m making this for him because I want Jungkook to be part of the group,” you say firmly, ignoring the way your hand trembles a little when you say this. Jungkook had waved goodbye to you when he’d spotted you in the morning after your first shift together, and tonight he’d made eye contact when you’d walked into the break room—more quietly than you had the day before—before smiling at you. (You’re constantly torn between wanting to coo at how adorable he is or begging him to bend you over a table, and it’s hard to keep these thoughts from showing on your face whenever you smile at him, but you’re doing a damn good job.)
Yoongi, despite his usual unflappable nature, looks absolutely floored. Even though you’d both spoken to Hoseok from the moment he’d started working with you, it had taken you a few weeks before you’d even offered to get him a drink at midnight, a mutual decision both you and Yoongi had agreed upon. And here you were, inviting Jungkook in without consulting your coworker-turned-best-friend, after one night. (You’re sure Hobi wouldn’t mind, but you feel kind of bad when you think about it and resolve to pay for his lunch when you see him next week.)
Yoongi squints at you as you keep your attention focused on the coffee and so don’t see the realisation settling across his features.
“Oh,” he says once it’s clicked. “You wanna suck his dick.”
You end up scattering coffee across the counter again. At this rate you may as well just pour the granules straight into the bin and cut out the middle man.
“Yeah, you wanna suck his dick,” Yoongi muses, watching as you grouse and clean up the coffee.
“At least when I talk about your crush on Jimin I have the decency to not be crude about it,” you say, jabbing a finger in Yoongi’s direction. He flushes.
“I don’t have a crush on Jimin,” he scowls. You scoff.
“Oh, please, Yoons. You’re not as subtle as you think. If I catch you staring at Jimin’s ass one more time with those googly eyes of yours I’m gonna yarf.” Jimin’s ass, admittedly, is very nice, the awful work trousers somehow flattering on him, but it’s the reverence with which Yoongi looks at it that makes his crush obvious. Amongst plenty of other things. “And you let him have my doughnut! As if that isn’t practically a declaration of marriage!”
“You’re still going on about the doughnut?” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That happened months ago.”
“It was a limited edition Krispy Kreme doughnut, Yoons!” Your voice has gone shrill. “A motherfucking Kit Kat doughnut! The only reason I didn’t strike you down where you stood is because I fully support your crush on Jimin, even if I think it’s ridiculous you haven’t asked him out already! Anyway,” you say, letting the spoon clatter into the mug. “Whether or not I want to suck Jungkook’s dick, I miss having a third person in this group. Hobi actually laughed at my jokes.”
“I laugh at your jokes when they’re funny.”
“You never laugh at them!”
“I said what I said.”
“I’m going to poison your coffee so Jungkook and I can drink the rest in peace,” you say. “Oh, moment of silence for Hobi, we almost forgot.” The moment of silence lasts for a second, and then you’re pouring the freshly boiled water into the mugs.
“I guess I should talk to Jungkook, then.” Yoongi still sounds suspicious and you glare at him as you stir the coffee.
“If I find out that you’re being mean to him, I will genuinely poison your drink,” you say, lifting the spoon and gesturing with it aggressively enough that a droplet of coffee goes flying off and lands on Yoongi’s face. You have no doubt that Jungkook could snap Yoongi like a twig if he wanted to, but Jungkook seems far too nice for that, and Yoongi can be surprisingly intimidating.
“You won’t poison me.” He wipes the coffee away, unperturbed.
You snort. “I’ll use decaff and I won’t tell you.”
This makes Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”
"Watch me.”
With that threat firmly in place, you feel a little better when you hand Jungkook’s coffee to Yoongi to give to him. You’re not near the fruit and vegetable section tonight so you won’t be able to keep a direct eye on them, but you’ll catch up with Yoongi once he’s wandered back over to bread.
You’re starting to feel a bit suspicious at how long Yoongi’s been absent for and so you make your way across the shop floor to see if you can find him. To your infinite surprise you spot both guys near the salads, Yoongi perched on an upturned crate while Jungkook puts watercress onto the shelf, the two of them in deep discussion about something. You feel like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone when you see Yoongi genuinely laugh and you back away, unsettled.
When you eat lunch that night, Jungkook sits with you on your table at Yoongi’s behest. It’s still a quiet affair, like normal—you take as many opportunities as you can to sneak glances at Jungkook, surprised at exactly how much food he puts away—but when he offers to make the coffee, you have a hushed conversation with Yoongi while your muscle boy is distracted. You keep your eyes fixed on Jungkook’s back, and it really is unfair how good his shoulder blades look with that black material stretched across them. There’s no point in trying to hide your thirst from Yoongi now that he knows about it so you’re free to stare.
“I thought you said he was a narc,” you whisper, eyes still fixed on Jungkook's back. How is his waist so small? (Lord have mercy on your soul.)
“Nah, Jungkook is okay,” Yoongi replies. In Yoongi-speak this means that he really likes Jungkook and you’re flabbergasted.
You don’t get a chance to say anything else before Jungkook is turning around, proffering your drinks to you with a bright smile—you can see his teeth, and you’ve never wanted to lick someone’s teeth before but apparently the sight of Jungkook’s mouth will do that to you, who would have guessed. It’s been two shifts and you’re already this dehydrated, just dying of thirst, shrivelled up like Spongebob in that episode where he visits Sandy’s dome for the first time. You’re a crusty thirsty sponge and Jungkook is a tall, sexy glass of water.
(You’re so fucking screwed.)
--
The thing with initiating Jungkook into the Coffee Crew is that you’re faced with the reality of his good looks constantly. Jungkook still doesn’t talk to anyone else, really, but he lights up around Yoongi and yourself, and you start to look forward to seeing those shiny doe eyes of his, the way he perks up whenever he sees you.
Work quickly becomes the highlight of your week, which is something you thought you'd never say, but Jungkook is just too powerful. Everything about him is absolutely fucking devastating, a few examples being:
The night when it’s a little warmer, and he unbuttons all three buttons on his polo shirt—you can see his collarbones and the tiniest bit of his chest, going feral over such a small slip of skin like you’re some sort of Victorian lady who keeps her ankles hidden in public and you’ve never seen bare skin before.
Or when you got caught behind him on the stairs while he’s explaining the difference between meat protein and vegetable protein—you get a wonderful view of his ass, which you take full advantage of (respectfully). You get another look at said ass when he plays a game of pool against Yoongi while you sit on the sofa and watch, Jungkook leaning over the wonky pool table so that he can make a particularly difficult shot, placing his wonderful butt directly into your line of vision.
Or when you notice that even though Jungkook cycles to work, he never seems to smell like sweat, and instead he just smells like fresh clothes, clean linen that’s so potent you can smell him before you see him. But no one smells that much like clean laundry, right? It must be his cologne.
“Jungkook, do you wear cologne?”
Jungkook, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at your question and just answers it like he would any other. “No, why?”
“Oh, it’s just that you smell nice? Sort of like whatever 'clean cotton' is apparently meant to smell like. Y’know? Like fresh laundry.”
“I do wash my clothes every day,” he says. “I guess you could call me a bit of a clean freak?”
For some reason, the fact that he smells so nice because of his clothes is just so hot. You want to bury your face in his shirt and just breathe him in, but that would be weird and creepy and invasive. So you don’t do that and instead allow yourself to sniff from a polite distance, olfactory senses working overtime whenever he’s nearby.
(Yoongi finds you uncapping all the detergents down the laundry aisle one night, desperately huffing each type to try and work out which one Jungkook uses. “Jesus Christ,” he says, watching as you take a particularly long drag of whatever Spring Day is—it’s pleasant, whatever it is, but it’s not what you’re looking for. “Are you trying to get high?”
“Smell this,” you say instead, shoving it in his face. He takes a wary sniff, nose crinkling. “This is nice, isn’t it?”
“I guess?” Yoongi seems baffled. “Okay, you’re clearly busy, I’ll tell Sejin to ask someone else to do the job.” You don’t reply, too busy sucking in a lungful of Crystal Snow as Yoongi backs away.)
Jungkook also seems to have this weird knack of appearing whenever you need help lifting or moving something heavy. Normally you hate it when someone steps in to help you, a little offended at the idea that you can’t do something yourself—you've been doing this for long enough that you've developed a technique for things—but when Jungkook does it you don’t feel disrespected at all. He’s just so nice about it.
Like the time when you’re struggling to move an empty wooden pallet and put it on top of a stack of others; not only is it heavy, it's large and unwieldy, too. The last time you’d tried to move one of these you’d ended up hitting it against your shins while also getting a palmful of splinters. You hate these things. Jungkook, however, materialises out of seemingly nowhere and offers you his help. He ends up lifting the thing himself, squatting down to grab it and just tossing it on top of the pile. He does it effortlessly, literally effortlessly, like the pallet weighs nothing to him, and when you ask if he thought it was heavy, he blinks.
“No, not really,” he says. You have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from screeching.
“You must lift a lot of weights,” you say, weakly, and Jungkook nods.
“I’ve started incorporating weights into my pull up routine recently, too.”
“Oh? Do you, like… tie them to yourself or something? Uh. How heavy are they?”
Jungkook perks up, apparently excited at the opportunity of talking about exercise. “I hold a fifteen kilogram weight in one hand while I do a pull up with the other,” he says.
Your legs feel weak at this mental image and you end up sitting on the stack of pallets as Jungkook starts to tell you about the rest of his workout routine, and when you find out he does kickboxing as well, you almost have to excuse yourself so that you can try and calm down. Instead you grin and bear it, your fingers digging into your thighs in the horniest grip known to man, acting like this is just a normal conversation that is absolutely not affecting you, no sir, no sirree, holy shit you’re going to die.
That night you do have to excuse yourself at lunch when you make a comment on Jungkook’s food, and he says that he needs to keep his calorie count up because he’s bulking at the moment.
“Bulking? Like for abs?” Yoongi asks.
“I already have abs,” Jungkook says dismissively. Your leg jolts under the table and your knee hits the underside of it, sending your empty lunch box almost flying to the floor, and Jungkook and Yoongi look at you in alarm. “Are you alright, Y/n?”
“Bathroom,” you gasp. “I gotta—bathroom. Lady stuff.”
You splash water over your face and run it over your wrists, desperately trying to cool down. You’d suspected he had abs, for multiple reasons, not least of all the fact that whenever he leaned back in his chair the material of his shirt would settle on his stomach in a way that hinted at the shape of the muscles underneath, but to hear him confirm it—like it was nothing—good lord. (Yoongi’s caught you staring at Jungkook’s stomach multiple times when the boy was distracted, but you’re beyond caring. If you have to deal with Yoongi fawning over Jimin then he can put up with you ogling Jungkook.)
When you come back, Yoongi is at the counter making your coffees while Jungkook is still sitting at the table. You slide back into your seat, about as composed as you’re going to get, when Jungkook leans towards you.
“Are you okay?” He looks worried. “I have some heat pads in my locker if, um, you wanted them, if you’re having period pains?” he says, but then he looks unsure. “I don’t know if you’re actually meant to use them on your tummy, though.”
Tummy. You want to squeal at how cute the word is, not to mention the fact that Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered about talking about period related stuff, unlike a lot of guys you’d known. “Oh, uh, no, thanks, Jungkook,” you say, flushing. “That’s really nice of you but I’m alright.”
“Okay,” Jungkook says, although he’s still clearly concerned. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
And that’s the other thing. You still think Jungkook is the hottest person you’ve ever seen, of course, but he’s also so nice. And hardworking. And sweet. And gentle and thoughtful and determined and talented and just—he's just a whole lot of man, really, just so much, too much. Initially you’d been attracted to him based purely on how cute he was, but now that you've actually gotten to know him, your attraction has morphed into a full-on all consuming crush that’s absolutely catastrophic.
Even when you’re not at work, you keep zoning out because you’re thinking about: Jungkook’s arms, Jungkook’s thighs, Jungkook’s face, Jungkook’s personality, or a mix of all of the above. You can’t focus on things when all you can think about is Jungkook.
Jimin, of course, has been kept fully up to date with the situation. You squat behind the bakery counter whenever he’s on a late shift, hiding away from prying eyes so that you can talk to him as he tidies up, although you know he’s making moony eyes at Yoongi, who’ll glance back at him between the shelves of bread.
You groan into your hands from your cross legged position on the floor, sat atop a flattened croissant box, and Jimin pats you sympathetically on the head.
“Jungkook is very cute,” says Jimin. You groan again.
“I want him to raw me,” you say. Yoongi must have been closer than you thought because you hear a noise of disgust from the other side of the counter before the sound of his footsteps moving away. Jimin laughs his tinkly little laugh as you continue to speak. “But I also want him to hold my hand? And I wanna kiss his cute little forehead. And make him breakfast in bed. Ugh. I hate this,” you whine.
Jimin pats your head again. “Why don’t you ask him for coffee?”
You take your head out of your hands and fix him with a pout. “Why don’t you?”
“You know I don’t ask people for coffee, Y/n, I’m the one who gets asked,” Jimin says, and you know he’s projecting his voice so that Yoongi can hear him. You also know that Yoongi is too dense to pick up on this obvious flirtation, even though you can see how Jimin throws a wink in the direction of where Yoongi must be; you don’t turn to look over the counter but you hear the distinct sound of someone walking into a stack of bread and knocking it over, before Yoongi swears. Jimin just looks fond.
“Oh my God, just marry each other already,” you mutter.
“He has to ask me out first,” Jimin says, softly enough that Yoongi can’t hear from where he must be furiously tidying up the bread, if the sound of plastic packaging and low curses are anything to go by. “Seriously, Y/n, it sounds like Jungkook likes you as well. I think you should just go for it.”
You sigh. “Jungkook’s so far out of my league it’s like we’re not even playing the same sport. He’s sinking three pointers while I’m, I don’t know, whacking balls with a croquet mallet,” you mumble.
Jungkook is nice and funny and works out and is hot, so hot, the kind of hot that has people literally stopping to look at him. (You certainly had, the first time you'd spotted him down an aisle, doing a literal double take at how cute he was.) You, meanwhile, are a clown whose sense of humour has been warped by years of niche internet memes, you drink more coffee than is probably medically advisable, and make-up can only take you up to a shaky 6/10 on a very good day. All in all: Not Exactly A Catch.
Jimin clearly disagrees. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.” He sounds genuinely mad, frowning at you. "If I didn’t like Yoongi I absolutely would have asked you out by now. Jungkook would be lucky to have you, you are a wholeass meal.”
“Yoongi compared me to a slug the other day,” you say. Admittedly it was because he’d knocked on your door when you’d been in the middle of shaving your legs, your skin shining with coconut oil—so the slug slime comment was definitely warranted and hadn’t been an insult—but Jimin’s expression turns murderous, unaware of the context.
“Min Yoongi, you get over here right now,” he hisses. Yoongi is there in seconds. “Did you call Y/n a slug?”
Yoongi’s face looms at you from over the counter. “Should’ve called her a snake instead,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.
“Hiss hiss,” you say. “That’s what you get for chatting shit about coconut oil.”
Jimin blinks before his face goes smooth and a look of understanding crosses his features, raising an eyebrow at you. You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m going back to the bagels,” he says, but then his voice is gentle when he continues: “Unless you need something else, Jimin?”
“No, thank you, Yoongi.” He smiles at Yoongi, soft and sweet, instantly forgetting about the slug comment.
The two of them look at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist and you mime throwing up, but because they’re looking at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, neither of them notice. You hear Yoongi’s footsteps recede and you lift your hands in despair.
“How is it even when I’m having a breakdown over a boy, the two of you manage to be so incredibly gay over each other?”
“It’s a talent,” Jimin says. “Besides, as happy as I am to listen to you, there’s only so many ways you can say I wanna suck Jungkook’s dick so bad, or he’s so adorable, what the fuck, or oh my God, Jungkook is so hot and I’m so thirsty, which are all things you’ve said, verbatim, multiple times.”
“It’s true.” You pout. “You’ve only seen Jungkook from a distance, anyway. He’s even better up close.” The bakery section is the other side of the supermarket, as far away from the fruit and veg section as you can possibly get; Jungkook has a much better work ethic than you and Yoongi and actually stays in his area to work, so he hasn’t met Jimin properly yet.
Jimin’s expression becomes thoughtful. “You know what, that’s true,” he says.
You’re immediately on guard. Jimin is well-meaning and considerate and kind, but he also loves to meddle and has absolutely no shame about it—the second you see that glint in his eyes, you think that maybe you’ve said something you shouldn’t have, but then you notice the time and your eyes widen.
“Oh, shit, I better go pretend to work before Sejin realises I’m missing.” You scrabble to your feet. “If I don’t see you before you go, have a safe drive home, Jimin!”
Jimin’s usually pretty punctual about leaving on time (even if he’ll hang around to talk to Yoongi, ugh). You wander over to the fruit section to help Sejin fill a display stand, and you freeze in the middle of lifting some apples into a paper bag when you spot Jimin talking to Jungkook. Jimin looks coy, Jungkook looks confused, and you? You probably look constipated. Why is Jimin still here?
You only realise that your mouth is open when Jimin spots you and winks, overexaggerated and theatrical. Your mouth snaps shut as Jungkook’s attention turns to whatever he’s winking at. You duck out of sight before he can spot you, scampering down the length of the store before practically throwing your apples at Sejin, who is understandably caught off guard and fails to catch the bag.
“I’ll go get some blueberries for the other shelf from the back room,” you bark in his face, all but running away before he can respond, leaving him surrounded by the escapee apples (escapples?) that are rolling away from him. You skulk around the entrance of the fruit and veg room for a little while, waiting for Jimin to leave via the staff exit—directly across from where you’re standing—but he doesn’t appear and you can only pretend to look for blueberries for so long, eventually returning to Sejin while despondently clutching the trays of berries.
Jungkook doesn’t seem any different when you make your midnight coffee run, and lunch is about as normal as usual. When you mention Jimin, he smiles, saying that it was nice to finally meet him, but other than seemingly slightly distracted—as if deep in thought—that’s it. There’s no hint that Jimin mentioned anything about you at all, least of all your crush—thank God—but you can feel the ripples in the Force. (Or maybe that was all the coffee you were drinking, seriously, maybe you should slow down?) You know that it’s not a coincidence that you’d had yet another meltdown about Jungkook right before Jimin had introduced himself to the object of your affections. You also know that Jimin knows that you know that, utterly shameless as always.
Jimin is on another late shift the next night. You squat behind the bakery counter when it’s unmanned, Jimin going outside to throw away some old baguettes or whatever, and you (metaphorically) pounce on him when he reappears. “Park Jimin.”
Jimin is entirely unsurprised. In fact he even has a box for you to sit on, proffering a flattened piece of porridge packaging; you feel uncomfortable at the idea of sitting on the Quaker Oats guy’s face and flip it over so you can see brown cardboard rather than his weirdly smug expression looking up at you. “Yes?”
“What exactly were you talking to Jungkook about last night?” You peer up at him, attempting to look at least somewhat threatening, but it’s kind of hard when you’re so much lower to the ground than Jimin is right now. Jimin has to look down at you so far that he’s given himself a double chin, but he’s still gorgeous, because of course he is. (He should leave some for the rest of you, jeez.)
“Oh, a lot of things,” Jimin says. “You were right about him being a sweetheart. He’s very nice. I approve.”
“What are you, my dad?” You mutter to yourself, but then: “You didn’t say anything about my crush, did you?”
Jimin is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. So when he answers you with a simple “no” you believe him, although you can’t help but still feel a little suspicious. Your gut might be full of coffee more often than not, but she’s also a smart bitch—smarter than your brain for sure—and your gut is telling you that Park Jimin must have done or said something.
“Yoongi is putting the tortillas out, so excuse me if I’m distracted,” Jimin says. The tortilla wraps are on the bottom shelf so Yoongi has to bend over to work them. You make a face of disgust and stand up to leave.
“Fine, me and the Quaker Oats guy will take ourselves elsewhere.” You tuck the flattened box snugly under your arm. “We know when we’re not wanted.”
You feel a little bad later when you put the box into the industrial baler that you have, the machine crushing all of your cardboard flat, saddened that you’ve had to part from your new friend so soon. Bye, Quaker Oats guy.
Jungkook finds you standing in front of the baler with a genuinely sad expression on your face, silent as the machine makes mechanical squealing and wailing noises while it crushes the boxes inside it. “Uh. Is everything okay?” He asks, delicate.
“It will be eventually,” you say solemnly, but then you look away from the baler and immediately brighten, smiling at him. “Did you need me for something?”
Jungkook looks at you for a second and then shakes his head. “I was just out here to get some more stock from the back room,” he says, and you both get back to work, unaware of the glances you steal at each other as you part.
Later that night—well, technically, morning—you see someone you haven’t seen for a while, and you gasp with excitement when you spot him. “Namjoon!” You holler down the aisle, far too loud and energetic at 5am, jogging up to him. “I thought you stopped morning shifts!”
Namjoon is a beautiful tree of a man, tall and long limbed, and probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. You’ve missed his dimples. “I did, but, I’m doing a bit of overtime,” he says, and you can’t help but smile up at him.
You’re so caught up in your laughter, cackling at a story that Namjoon is telling you, that you don’t notice Jungkook spotting you from the other end of the aisle. He circles around a few times, pretending to be straightening up the shelves, but watches as you shuffle closer to Namjoon, your heads practically knocking against each other as you stare intently at something on his phone. Jungkook can’t bear it any longer and starts to walk over. He has no idea what he’s planning to do once he gets there but he’s marching over anyway, and that's when you spot him.
“Jungkook, Jungkook!” You beckon him over—like he wasn’t coming in your direction already—and you sound so excited. “Jungkook, look, puppies!”
Jungkook has no idea who the tall guy is but he’s nice enough to turn his phone towards Jungkook without being asked to. There are multiple puppies tumbling over each other in the video, nosing at each other and flopping around. “I thought a golden retriever would be good for Jin, because he’s never had a dog before,” the tall man says, and you coo.
“They’re so cute! Oh my God, Joon, you should get one of those little bandanas you could tie around their necks, those are adorable,” you squeal. “Ahh, I love dogs so much. Don’t you, Jungkook?” Your eyes are shining as you look up at him, excited.
Jungkook feels like he needs to sit down. “Of course. Who doesn’t?” He says, and you beam at him; he has to dig his fingers into his palms at how cute you are. He desperately turns his attention back to the video, where one of the puppies is nosing at a ball. “Look at them retrieve.”
“Retrieve my heart,” you say, clutching your chest. “Ahh, gosh, Joonie, you’re really living the dream, moving in with your hot boyfriend and getting a dog together.” You’re too busy imagining living in that reality to notice how all the tension leaves Jungkook the second he hears that Namjoon has a boyfriend. Oblivious. “Anyway, you should probably get back to work, I’ve distracted you for long enough. Sorry!”
“No problem.” Namjoon quirks a smile at you, nodding at Jungkook before moving away.
“Ahh, Namjoon is so lucky,” you say wistfully. “He’s so nice though, he deserves it.”
Jungkook is looking at you, curious. “You really get to know everyone, don’t you?”
“Huh?” You blink. “What? Yeah, I guess. Is that weird?”
“No.” Jungkook pauses, and you think that’s all he’s going to say on the matter, but then his mouth opens again. “You’re just so nice to everyone, and you actually pay attention to what they say and remember it. Most of the time when people talk, they don’t actually listen, they’re just waiting for when it’s their turn to talk about themselves, but you don’t do that. It’s cool,” he adds, belatedly. “I really admire it.”
You’re staring at him in shock. No one’s ever said anything like that before, complimented you in such a wholehearted way about something they’ve noticed about you. It's thrown you for a loop. You’re so used to thinking of yourself as a clown—a friendly clown, sure, but a clown nonetheless—that you’re genuinely shaken to the core after hearing what Jungkook’s just said about you.
He looks alarmed when you don’t respond, just blinking up at him as your brain desperately tries to reboot, but you’re saved from having to reply when Sejin calls out to you.
“Y/n, the computer at the front desk is playing up again." His hands are cupped around his mouth, amplifying himself so that you can hear him down the aisle. “You’re the only one who knows how to fix it.”
You snap out of your daze. “Again? You’ve tried turning it off and on again, right?” You’re about to walk away from Jungkook, but first you glance up at him, shy. “Um. Thanks for always being so nice, Kookie. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he says. He sounds a little breathless. You don’t have time to ask why, Sejin’s noise of distress catching your attention.
“I’m coming!” You rush off, nearly tripping on a loose grape on the floor; you manage to regain your balance with minimal flailing, unaware of how Jungkook fondly watches you go.
--
A few weeks later, you get sick.
You’re really bad at being sick, one of the reasons being that you don’t like to admit that you are sick—and so you still roll into work despite the fact you’re clearly unwell.
“You look like a body that’s just been fished out of the water.” Yoongi shows his concern in an interesting way. “Like you’ve been floating belly up near that trash island in the middle of the ocean that’s the size of Texas.”
You fix him with a baleful stare. He’d threatened to not let you into his car earlier, locking the door as you’d been reaching for the handle; he’d only relented after you’d hissed at him and scrabbled at the glass like some sort of feral cat.
“You do look a bit more tired than usual,” Jungkook says delicately.
You groan. The noise sounds like it’s being ripped out of your throat, which feels as dry as the sahara desert; why are your throat and eyes so dry while your nose keeps running? Why is the liquid in all the wrong places? The human body is a wreck. (After glancing at Jungkook, who looks as perfect as always, you mentally correct yourself—your body is a wreck.)
“I’m fine,” you rasp, and then sniff, trying to stop your nose from dripping. Jungkook hands you a tissue. “I don’t need this, because I’m not sick, but thank you.”
You proceed to blow your nose loudly into the tissue, a trumpeting noise that trails off into a squeak, a sad little thing that sounds like the farting noise a balloon makes when all the air finally escapes it. Yoongi snorts with amusement but Jungkook’s brow is furrowed with concern.
Rather than being disgusted at your appearance—you’re not sick, you’re just suffering from mild allergies or something, so maybe you’ll admit that you look a little washed out—Jungkook has been worried about you from the moment you’d walked in. He’d even offered you his work fleece when he’d caught you shivering, which you’d graciously accepted. (Again, you weren’t shivering because you were sick, it’s just weirdly cold in the store today, even though no one else seems to be affected by it.) (Also, like, hello? The man of your dreams was offering you the chance to wear his clothes? As if you were going to say no to that.)
Despite definitely not being sick, you do sort of feel like your head is full of cotton wool, and everything seems so much louder than usual. Sejin takes pity on you and gives you the surprisingly easy job of counting stock out back in the warehouse, where it’s quieter and warmer—but you still keep Jungkook’s fleece on anyway, breathing in the lovely smell of his fabric softener as you idly count items, taking it slow.
You’ve climbed a stepladder so that you can reach a higher shelf, mentally tallying the cans of coke you find up there; you shuffle through them so you can turn the labels towards you, making sure you’re keeping the different flavours separate. (What’s the difference between diet and zero sugar, anyway? Aren’t they both the same thing?)
“Did I just see a pigeon walk past?”
You startle and nearly knock your row of cans off the shelf. Somehow you hadn’t noticed Jungkook walking into the warehouse, even though he clearly hadn’t meant to surprise you; his hands fly out to steady the stepladder, and though you appreciate this it throws you off balance and so you grab the shelf in front of you. One of the cans falls off, jostled by your movements, and your instinct is to try and catch it with your foot so it at least slows enough before it hits the ground that it doesn’t explode.
In theory, it’s not a bad idea. In reality, you wildly overestimate how heavy the can is and so you put way too much power into the swing of your leg and punt the can of coke into the distance. The two of you trace its arcing trajectory as it disappears over the metal racking before landing with a distinctly wet clatter. Yeah, it’s definitely exploded, hasn’t it.
“Wasn’t me,” you say immediately, but then your slower-than-normal brain catches up with what Jungkook just said. “Wait, what?”
“I was wondering if you saw a pigeon walking around,” Jungkook says. “I think I saw it walking from the back entrance into here?”
Much to his obvious surprise, your eyes light up. You’re maybe not as exuberant as usual because of your illness but you’re still clearly excited. “Oh!” You hop down off the stepladder, nearly losing your balance for a second—maybe you are a teensy weensy bit sick—but then straighten up before Jungkook can help steady you. “Shortbread’s back!”
Jungkook looks baffled but follows after you when you start to walk, abandoning your stock counts. “Shortbread?”
“Yeah! Hold on, you’re taller than me. You see that bit of metal that juts out of the ceiling there?”
Jungkook looks at where you’re pointing. It’s against the back wall of the warehouse, the ceiling lower here than in the rest of the room, panelling and wires supported by criss-crossing bars of thick blue metal. “Yeah?”
“Can you reach up there and feel around a bit?” Jungkook makes a face, clearly not wanting to shove his hand into some mysterious hidden nook, but you look up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can muster. You probably look like a wreck (what with how sick you are) but Jungkook relents immediately anyway; you think it's because he's nice and not because your attempt at being cute had been successful. He cranes upwards and feels around with his hand until it makes contact with crinkly plastic, and you motion for him to grab it—it’s an open pack of biscuits, with a receipt wedged inside that has your name scribbled on it.
“Gimme, gimme.” You make grabby hands at him. He tilts it towards you and you latch onto a biscuit, which is clearly stale; it crumbles almost immediately in your hands but you don’t pay it any mind, gesturing for him to put the tray back in its hiding place. “Where did you see the pigeon last?”
“Uh, near the soup, I think,” Jungkook answers. You immediately head in that direction, talking over your shoulder as he follows after you.
“You’ve seen that fishing net near the cardboard baler, right?” Your eyes flit to and fro, trying to spot the errant pigeon.
“Yeah, the green one? I was wondering why that was there.”
You click your tongue. “A few months ago we had a pigeon who kept flying here and wandering into the building,” you explain. “We knew it was the same pigeon because it has a tag around its leg? I think it’s a tracker pigeon, I don’t know. So I would use biscuits to get it to follow me outside. But then management got the net and someone said they caught it and, uh, ‘disposed’ of it.” You look equal parts distressed and sad and Jungkook’s chest twinges. “I haven’t seen it since, so even though I hoped that it wasn't the truth, I kind of accepted that it probably was.”
You round the corner past soups, heading towards the cereal overstock, when you both spot the pigeon. It’s slowly walking backwards and forwards on the floor, but when you appear, it stops and looks at you.
“Shortbread! It is you!” You sound absolutely elated, squatting down and proffering the mess of crumbs in your hand, sprinkling them in front of you. “I knew they hadn’t caught you!”
The pigeon—Shortbread—hops forward immediately, heading straight for the crumbs. You laugh in delight as it gets closer and starts to peck at the food. “You’ve gotta stop coming here, bud, Sejin’s going to get really mad if he spots you,” you say. Shortbread, of course, ignores you, more intent on eating the crumbs of—well, the crumbs of shortbread that you’ve given it. You look away from the pigeon, up at Jungkook, who’s watching you with an expression on his face that you can only describe as consternation. Does he dislike pigeons, maybe? “Do you want to feed him?”
“Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?” Jungkook blurts. The remaining crumbs of biscuit fall out of your hand, scattering into a wild constellation of fragments that Shortbread immediately swoops down onto—but you’re not paying the bird any mind, completely blindsided.
“Uh. What?” You stare up at Jungkook. Your mouth is open and slack with surprise; you hadn’t quite caught his words, but you could have sworn that he said— “Come again?”
Jungkook’s put a hand over his face, which is starting to turn red. “Do you—do you want to get coffee with me?” Even though he’s turned his head away from you, his eyes are pointed in your direction; Shortbread makes a cooing noise and starts to peck at the crumbs directly in front of you, but neither of you pay the pigeon any attention.
“Uh.” You know your brain is running on around 25% capacity right now, a mixture of your sickness and lack of sleep catching up with you, but you could swear that—what does Jungkook mean—nah, he doesn’t mean that, no way… haha… unless…? “You… want to get coffee? You know where we keep the jar.” Shortbread pecks at your open palm, a few crumbs still stuck to your skin. You’re momentarily distracted from your mental breakdown, giggling at the sensation of the pigeon’s beak, even though it hurts your throat to laugh. “Shortbread, there’s way more food on the floor, why are you trying to eat from my hand?”
“Y/n.” When Jungkook says your name your eyes snap back towards him. “Can I take you out on a date?”
This time you do catch all his words. Your mouth falls open again and you stare at him like the dumbass you are. Is Jeon Jungkook—your cute, kind, buff angel seriously asking you out? Right now? When you're squatting on a dusty warehouse floor with a handful of stale biscuit crumbs, wearing the world’s least flattering uniform, all while looking like some sort of washed out river corpse? (Thanks for that lovely comparison, Yoongi.) Has he lost his mind? Maybe lifting all those heavy crates meant that all the blood has run into his arm muscles rather than his brain and it's been starved of oxygen, because there’s no sane reason as to why Jungkook would be asking you out on a date.
“Me? A date?” Your voice comes out as a squeak. “With you?”
Jungkook looks absolutely mortified. You didn’t realise someone’s cheeks could go that red. “Forget I said anything,” he says, turning on his heel so that he can walk away; you catch a glimpse of bright crimson climbing up the back of his neck and the tips of his ears, too.
“No, wait, Jungkook!” You snap up from your squatting position and grab Jungkook’s shoulder, smearing crumbs onto his shirt. You feel light headed as he starts to turn around, but not because he’s looking at you—you’d stood up too quickly and you feel woozy from your illness, swaying off balance.
You nearly careen sideways into some cereal overstock. Jungkook’s eyes fly wide open in alarm, interposing himself so that you land against him instead. There’s the sound of metal clattering as your weight sends Jungkook into the cereal, rattling the cage, but he holds you steady. You still feel a bit faint, but now you’re sure that it’s partially due to the fact that you’re crushed up against Jungkook’s warm, firm chest, his hands on your hips as he frowns down at you.
“Are you alright?”
“Never better,” you mumble into the fabric of his polo shirt. (Jungkook's at risk of you snotting on him if your nose starts to run, but he doesn’t seem to care.) He smells even better up close than you ever could have imagined—thank god your sense of smell is still intact—and you melt against him for a second before your brain catches up with the situation and your head snaps back so that you can look at him. “Wait. Why were you about to leave?”
Jungkook’s look of concern turns instantaneously into one of embarrassment. “No reason,” he says, voice higher than normal, clearly uncomfortable.
You clench your fist and hit his firm chest, but with no strength behind the punch; your hand may as well have been a slice of bread for all the impact it makes. “Liar.” There’s no heat behind your words. “Did you seriously ask me on a date?”
Jungkook’s face is reddening again, but you’re still leaning against him. He can’t try to escape this time. “Uh. Yes?” From this close you can count his individual eyelashes, pick out the moles that dot his face, and, yep, you were right, he’s even better up close. “I’m sorry?”
You blink. “Sorry? For asking me out? Jungkook. Do you seriously think I’d say no?”
“... yes?” Jungkook’s voice is a squeak, much like yours had been a moment earlier. Holy shit. Does he not realise how amazing and hot he is? Does he seriously think that you, resident clown, would turn him down? Does he think you’re the one who’s out of his league?
You try to put this into words. Try to ask him this gently, so you can highlight just how ridiculous he’s being. However, what comes out of your mouth is: “Are you an idiot?” Thanks, brain, for once again abandoning you in your greatest time of need. Quick, reel it back. “Why would you think that?”
Jungkook, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t seem offended at your implication that he’s stupid. He just seems flustered. “I—you’re just so unapologetically you, you know?” He says. "You're charismatic and confident and everyone likes you. You’re the most popular person on night shift. I’m too shy to talk to anyone and I just do the same thing every night I’m here, but you can do everything. I always saw you talking to the other morning workers and you were always so nice, but you never spoke to me? When you introduced yourself to me after I moved to nights, I was confused, but, uh, really happy.”
Holy shit. He really does think that you’re out of his league. He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up after this little speech, mouth snapping shut while his cheeks continue to blaze red. He's so cute. He's going to be the death of you.
“Jungkook. I didn’t talk to you before night shift because you made me so fucking nervous,” you say. “I could barely look at you for weeks because you’re so beautiful that it kind of makes me want to barf sometimes and I couldn’t handle it. But then you moved to nights and I couldn’t avoid talking to you, and I found out how kind and hardworking and interesting you are, and—Jungkook, I don’t think I’ve ever crushed this hard on anyone in my life.” Why are you telling him all this? You must be more sick than you realise. Your mouth is entirely out of your control. “I get so excited for work now because it means I get to see you. Yoongi and Jimin have been listening to me gush about you for months. And Hobi too, but you don't know him. But I didn’t think you’d ever like me back so I didn’t say anything,” you admit, and the tiny part of your brain that’s still functional shoots a prayer off to God, or anyone else who’s listening, begging to be struck down by lightning. No such luck. “Uh. Basically, yes, Jungkook, I would love to go on a date with you, please excuse my rambling, my brain feels like it’s full of cotton.”
Jungkook’s eyes are wide. He’s staring at you like he can’t believe anything you’re saying. You abruptly realise that the two of you are still wrapped around each other in a very compromising position, in an area of the building where anyone could appear at any moment—not to mention that Shortbread is still fluttering around nearby, eating up crumbs with typical pigeon inefficiency.
“You—you think I’m beautiful?” Jungkook asks, and you blush.
“I think you’re the hottest person who’s ever existed, probably,” you answer honestly. “Please don’t ask more questions, I start to feel queasy whenever I have to express real emotion.”
“Y/n.” Jungkook seems to be rapidly getting over his shock, and a smile starts curling at his lips, and—yeah, you still wanna lick his teeth. Good to know. “I couldn’t possibly be the hottest person who’s ever existed.”
You snort, even though the action grates the back of your nose and throat. “Where’s your evidence?”
Jungkook gently squeezes you. “Right here,” he says.
Your brain desperately scrabbles for purchase in reality, shutting down and then rebooting, internet modem sounds crackling slowly in your head as you try to get to grips with the fact that Jungkook just did that, even though the motion was meant to be tender. Why must your mind be so dirty?
Wait.
Wait, he thinks you’re hot?
“Jungkook, I look like death,” you say, and although you’re ostensibly referring to the fact you’re sick right now (fine, you’ll admit it, you’re sick), it’s more of a general statement.
“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook says, deadly serious. Your heart flutters. What did you do to deserve this boy?
You’ve still got your faces tilted towards each other, and you can’t help but notice Jungkook’s eyes darting down to your lips. You’ve just started to inch closer to each other when your brain finally snaps back to full capacity and you’re shoving your hand in Jungkook’s face; the clean one, thankfully, not the one covered with biscuit crumbs. Seems like your brain came through.
“I don’t want our first kiss to be in the warehouse at work, when I’m sick,” you say. While that’s true, your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea that Jungkook apparently still wants to kiss you despite the fact you definitely need to blow your nose.
“Okay.” Jungkook’s voice is muffled against your palm. “That’s fair. Can you move your hand? It’s kind of hard to breathe like this.”
“Oh, shit, sorry.” You pull your hand away, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath; you feel how his chest expands and you’re once again reminded of how you’re flush against him. Jesus. “Uh, we should probably get Shortbread out of here before someone catches him.”
Jungkook lets you go so you can coax Shortbread towards one of the fire exits. He holds the door open as you squat down, wishing the pigeon good luck before you say goodbye; when you glance back up at Jungkook you notice the look on his face, open and fond, and your heart does a loop de loop in your chest when you realise that he's been looking at you like this a lot—your brain had just refused to let you notice it for what it is. What the heck.
As Jungkook lets the door shut behind you, you clear your throat. “Um. While I do absolutely want to get coffee with you, can it wait until I’m better? I don’t wanna be all crusty and snotty on our first date,” you say, weirdly shy despite the fact it’s obvious that Jungkook seems to think that you hung the moon. (Which you still don’t understand but you’re not complaining, not at all.)
“Sure.” Jungkook smiles and your heart flip flops in your chest again. The feats of acrobatics your heart achieves when Jungkook around is honestly astounding, but everything he does is just so… adorable. You’re certain that when you see him out of his work uniform and in his regular clothes you’re going to spontaneously combust, but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. “I should probably get back to fruit and veg, but, I’ll see you for lunch?”
“Yeah.” You smile helplessly back at him. “Of course. See you at lunch.”
Despite the fact you’re worried about getting him sick, Jungkook really doesn’t care about keeping his distance. When Yoongi walks into the canteen to the sight of you snuggled up to Jungkook and giggling as you feed him his lunch, your friend just rolls his eyes. “Kids these days,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.
“You’re just jealous that it’s taken me and Jungkook less time to confess to each other than it’s taken you with Jimin,” you say, and then gasp as you remember something. “Oh, Jungkook, that reminds me! What was that long conversation you were having with Jimin the other week?”
Jungkook flushes. “Uh, he was giving me advice on how to ask you out,” he admits sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on just blurting it out in the warehouse, but you were being so cute that I couldn’t stop myself?”
You stare into Jungkook’s eyes for a few long moments, before solemnly saying: “Jeon Jungkook, if I wasn’t sick, I would absolutely be kissing you right now.”
“Ugh, please don’t,” Yoongi says. Jungkook buries his head into the material of his work fleece, hiding his embarrassment against your shoulder, and you just laugh.
#jungkook fluff#jungkook oneshot#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenario#bts#bts au#cypherwritersnet#bts fluff#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jeongguk#jeongguk x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook x oc#joy.masterlist
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