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tuanyiems · 3 years

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Champagne Truffles

Yugyeom x Reader (f) It’s a little angsty at the start oops but still this is a fluffy one, it’s me after all words: 4k plot: it’s your anniversary date night and he’s determined to make this a night you’ll never forget, established relationship!au a/n – Forgive this unedited piece, it’s 3am rn lulz I spent too much time gushing over got7 I had to take out the smut content to make the deadline lol but anyways, make sure to stream Last Piece as you’re reading!!! And this concludes my November of posting exclusively for Yugyeom! (It still counts as November if I haven’t slept yet!) And what a beautiful month it was! Thank you for following me on this Chocolatier journey, I’m sure these two will show up again in a drabble or two in the future. But until, please enjoy and give got7’s new album a listen if you haven’t already. It truly is another masterpiece album c’: // part of Le Chocolatier drabble series, which you can find the masterlist for in my blog. feel free to read this as a one-shot or part of the series, in any order you want <3

“So, how was work today?” you start, climbing into bed where Yugyeom is already tucked in and scrolling on his phone. The bright light illuminates his face, and you pause, admiring his profile as you wait for him to answer.

But Yugyeom only shrugs, not even bothering to look at you. You grab your own phone from your nightstand, twisting it awkwardly around in your hands as you think of something else to say.

“It’s getting colder these days, isn’t it?” you ask softly, staring down at your phone as you flip it once more and watch it light up to a picture of you and Yugyeom at a carnival. It was one of those summertime, pop-up fairs. Yugyeom had convinced you to call in sick and the two of you made a trip an hour out from the city to play like two teenagers in love.

Your lips twist as you press your thumb into the screen where Yugyeom is holding your hand in his. Even when your hands were getting clammy from the summer heat and the nerves of waiting in line for the pirate ship, he had refused to let go.

“Nice try,” he had scoffed, before lifting his hand to kiss the back of yours. “If I let you go for even a second, you’ll definitely find a way to hurt yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re so protective for the weirdest things.”

“Weird? Who was the one who fractured their wrist while bowling?”

You looked away, pretending not to hear.

“And who’s the girl who got a concussion while walking in a department store, hmm?”

“Hey! That time wasn’t my fault!” you pouted, allowing yourself to be tugged along as the line moved up. “Who puts such heavy items on the top shelf anyways?”

“But what normal person climbs the shelves?!”

“An! Independent! Woman!” You defended, slapping his chest with your free hand with each word.

He only laughed, eyes shining down on you. “You could’ve called for help, or oh I don’t know, asked your boyfriend to get it for you? I mean, what else is my height good for?”

“Eye candy, of course!”

“I’m just a piece of meat to you, aren’t I?” he joked, bumping you by the hip before quickly pulling you back into his chest.

You giggled, “Oh course not, babe. I’m obviously using you for our future offspring too. It’s my gracious consideration for future generations.”

“Future offspring?” Yugyeom’s cheeks blushed a rosy hue and as soon as you noticed, you followed suit.

“I mean! Uh-well…if…” you sucked in a breath, forcing your heart to calm. “Anyways, if they end up inheriting your height and my butterfingers, it’ll end up being a disservice to society actually.”

He chuckled, hand squeezing yours. “Probably,” he mused softly, cheeks still warm with daydreams.

When you turn your phone again, the screen flickers awake and there is his blushing face again, eyes twinkling with thoughts of the future…or, that’s what you always thought he was imagining when you look at this photo, but maybe you were just being delusional. It could’ve just been the summer heat making him flush.

The Yugyeom from that memory and the one sitting next to you feel like completely different people. You don’t understand what happened, only a few months had passed since that day. At first, you had summed up his quiet behavior to the changing season. It’s not like Yugyeom had never been quiet or moody before, but never has he iced you out like this for so long.

It makes you nervous actually. In two days, it’ll be your three-year anniversary. This is supposed to be a good thing of course, but in the back of your mind sits the nervous belief that something bad will happen on that day.

None of your previous relationships have ever lasted longer than a year. You and Yugyeom were always so stable that you never thought this would be a problem, but his sudden changes have made you more superstitious.

“Baby?” you utter softly, touching his wrist to put his phone down. He looks over but doesn’t say a word. “Um, I was wondering how you wanted to spend this Saturday? We haven’t really talked about it, so…”

Your voice trails. He looks at you almost fiercely, a slight frown on his lips.

You swallow. “Not that we have to do anything. Maybe we could just have a quiet day inside. We can marathon that anime you really like! What was the name again? With the cute pig?”

“Seven Deadly Sins,” he answers, looking back at his phone.

“Yeah, that one!” you say, voice much brighter than how you feel. “But…I was just suggesting. We can do what you want to do. Did you have something in mind? Food you’re craving?”

Yugyeom sighs, turning on his side to turn the lamp off. “It’s late, babe, let’s decide later.”

“Oh, okay.”

In the darkness, your worries fester though.

“Baby?” you whisper cautiously. Quietly, you curl against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Goodnight, Gyeom.”

A moment passes before he twists in your arms and pulls you to his chest. You smile, looking up even though you can barely make out his features in the darkness.

“Night baby, I love you,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and you find yourself relaxing in his arms.

That night you fall into a sleep so good, you end up missing your alarm.

Rushing around the apartment in only a forest green blouse and your nude hip huggers, you unpack your purse for the fifth time that morning.

“Babe, have you seen my charger?” You yell from the bedroom.

“It’s not in your purse?” Yugyeom calls from inside the bathroom.

You huff, throwing the items haphazardly back into your bag. “No!”

“Just take mines!”

“Thank you!”

Rounding the bed, you make your way to Yugyeom’s nightstand. Unlike your own though, his drawer is a disorganized mess. You furrow your brows, shifting through the old mail and random trinkets.

“How does he find anything in here?” you mutter, stuffing your hand to the back and hoping the wire was buried somewhere there.

“Y/N!” Yugyeoms voice booms from behind you. You jump in surprise. “Why are you going through my drawer?”

He snatches your hand out and slams his drawer shut.

“I-” You try to blink back your surprise. “I was just looking for the charger.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, bending behind the nightstand, and pulls the wire out.

“Here,” he tosses it into your hand before walking to your shared closet. “And don’t go through my things.”

Gaze on his back, you place the charger into your purse meekly. Grabbing your cream trousers from the bed, you quietly step into them as Yugyeom gets dressed too.

“Sorry,” you mumble when he finally turns to you.

He lets out a sigh, threading his fingers between yours. His thumb rubs over your hand gently. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Jackson,” you slide on your rolling chair towards your cubicle buddy, cup of hot chocolate between both palms.

“Uh oh,” Jackson looks at you once before twisting dramatically in his chair. “You’ve got the frowny face!”

“Frowny face?” Jinyoung pokes his head into your cubicle. Seeing your expression, he immediately walks into your cubicle, leaning onto Jackson’s desk. “Who do we need to hurt?”

“No one,” you sulk, stirring your drink. “I just had a question.”

“It was Susan, wasn’t it? I hate her,” Jinyoung scoffs, crossing his arms. Jackson chuckles, nudging him to stop.

“No, I was just wondering,” you pause, looking at your cream flats. “What are some signs when a guy no longer loves you?”

“I’m going to kill Yugyeom.”

“Why is murder always your go-to?” Jackson jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “It can’t be that bad, the last time I saw Yugyeom he was madly in love with you!”

“I just…I don’t know…it’s a feeling,” you frown, gut twisting as you’re speaking the words aloud. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Well, what signs have you been getting from Yugyeom?” Jinyoung asks.

“He’s just gotten quieter in the last couple of months. Sometimes it feels like he’s hiding something from me. Like last night, he was mostly on his phone even though I was trying to talk to him.”

“On his phone doing what?”

You tilt your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, Instagram? Twitter? But that’s not the point.”

“Wait, Instagram or Twitter, Y/N? Was he scrolling through news or was he sliding into DMs? These are important details,” Jinyoung interrupts. Both you and Jackson look at him with wide eyes.

You feel your heart jump to your throat. “Y-you think…maybe, he’s c-cheating on me?”

That thought had never even occurred to you as a possibility but now that you hear it…Your vision starts to blur.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N!” Jackson slaps Jinyoung’s thigh, pushing him away as he hurries to put an arm over your shoulder. “Jinyoung was just asking stupid questions. Yugyeom’s not that kind of guy.”

“But what if he’s right?” you mumble. “This morning I was looking in his drawer to borrow his charger and he yelled at me for going through his things. He’s never done that before! And every time I ask about his day, he won’t really tell me anything.”

You sniffle, rushing to wipe your falling tears.

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” Jinyoung pats your hand softly. “You’re probably just spiraling right now. I don’t know Yugyeom the way you do. He was probably just scrolling through pictures of tattoo art or something.”

“But he’s so handsome and amazing, he could have any girl he wants. What if he’s found someone better? Someone who doesn’t burn toast or, or-”

“Hey,” Jackson squeezes your arm with a frown. “We don’t tolerate that kind of talk in this house.”

“House?” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Our cubicle home!” Jackson clarifies, making you smile.

“Ah, I see a smile,” Jinyoung announces, making your lips stretch wider.

“My makeup is running, isn’t it?” you laugh weakly.

“Yeah, you’re a mess,” Jinyoung teases.

“Good time to ask Susan for an early weekend,” Jackson nudges you playfully.

“Yeah, leave early and go have a real conversation with Yugyeom about how you’re feeling. No use in holding things in if it’s just going to make you cry anyways.”

“Someone’s crying?” Susan, your project manager, pokes her head into your cubicle. When she sees your state, she gasps. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m okay,” you flush with embarrassment.

“Nonsense, you should let her start the weekend early, Susan,” Jinyoung states before smiling at her sweetly. “And as her favorite co-workers, you should let us join her!”

“Nice try, Jinyoung,” she laughs goodheartedly, before turning to you. “You two have to stay, but Y/N, you’re free to go. Come back Monday, feeling better, okay?”

She sends you a wink before striding off.

“I hate her so much,” Jinyoung grumbles.

“You gotta stop lying to yourself, man,” Jackson laughs. He turns to you and pulls you into a hug. “Go and talk to him, Y/N. The longer you wait it out, the longer you’ll just be running circles in your head.”

You nod, convinced. “Alright, I’ll do that. Thanks guys.”

“Call me if you need a hitman!” Jinyoung calls as you rush out of the cubicle.

“Hey, why are you calling at this hour?”

“I just missed you,” you hum into the phone, as you walk down the familiar sidewalk towards your favorite chocolate store. “How’s work?”

“Um, actually,” there’s a pause on the other line before he continues, “It’s kind of busy. Probably be home late today.”

“Oh, okay,” you put on a tone of disappointment as you round the corner to the store. You snicker to yourself. Maybe surprising him at work and helping him with the shop will pick his mood up.

“Yeah, sorry, but you know this time of year. People like to eat chocolates.”

You smile to yourself, slowing your step as you reach the storefront. “Yeah, I know. It’s how I met you.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you chuckle.

“Anyways, I really have to go now.”

“O-” You freeze, staring into the window of the chocolate store. “Okay.”

“Bye,” Yugyeom doesn’t wait for you to reply before he cuts off the line. You barely register the dead phone line though. You gulp, watching as your best friend, Jenny, pulls Yugyeom into a tight hug between the counter. In her arms, he smiles with full cheeks.

Stepping back, you cross the street in a rush, collapsing into a seat outside the French café across from Yugyeom’s store before your legs give out entirely.

This doesn’t make sense. While Jenny was one of your closest friends, she and Yugyeom weren’t especially close. This was partially due to the fact that Jenny lives in another city two hours away from yours. Yugyeom has never expressed any interest in spending time with your friends unless you were with him, and so things just don’t add up.

Jenny never sent you a text that she’d be in town, especially on a Friday. Just as you’re about to go through the text messages in your phone just in case, you see the door of the chocolate store open and out walks Yugyeom and Jenny. They’re so deep in their own conversation, they don’t even glance at you, right across the street from them.

You take in a breath, shaking your head. This just doesn’t make sense. Getting up again, you make your way down the street, watching them from across. Maybe Jenny needed a special order of chocolates. Was there a birthday you were forgetting?

You stop in your tracks, watching as Jenny practically jumping with excitement alongside Yugyeom. She must’ve said something funny, because he tilts his head back, mouth open wide, the same way he always laughs at you when you make a stupid joke.

Shaking your head again, you continue your steps. No, Jenny is a trusted friend. You’ve known her since high school. But the longer you follow, the more your stomach starts to hurt. It’s exactly because you’ve known Jenny for so long that you know she would never be this animated with your boyfriend.

Your chest hurt at just the thought, but you can’t help it from echoing in your brain. That the two of them look too comfortable—like they’ve been meeting for a while.

Biting your lip hard, you stop in your tracks again and force yourself to turn around. No, this just didn’t add up. And you didn’t want to trail after them like some kind of stalker.

You trust Yugyeom and you trust Jenny.

Hailing the nearest cab, you enter with a huff. It was like Jinyoung said, you were probably just spiraling.

“I’m home,” Yugyeom calls softly as he enters the house. You freeze in your seat at the kitchen table, despite having sat there for three hours for this very moment.

“Hey,” Yugyeom peeks his head into the kitchen, looking at you with furrowed eyes. “What are you doing just sitting here by yourself?”

You chuckle dryly, trying to shake off your nerves. “Oh, I guess I was just spacing out.”

He smiles at you before sitting down in the chair across from you. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” you lie. “How was work?”

“It was fine. Busy as usual,” Yugyeom shrugs. “What did you have for dinner?”

“I made pasta. There’s leftovers in the fridge for you.”

“It’s okay, I’m stuffed already.”

“Oh? You ate?”

Yugyeom’s eyes grow wide before he is blinking away, running his fingers through his hair. “Uh, yeah, um…Bambam, he bought me dinner.”

“That was nice of him,” you mumble. You breathe loudly, trying to keep yourself collected despite feeling like you were going to vomit with each second that passes.

He chuckles before raising his voice abruptly. “Anyways! Let’s talk about tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow? Did you have something in mind?” your chest jolts with hope.

“Actually, I was thinking you could have a girl’s day with Jenny! And then we could do something in the evening.”

“Jenny’s in town?” you watch him closely, noticing the way he licks at his lips and swallows.

“Oh! Yeah! I uh, I heard it from Bam. He must’ve seen a story update from her or something.”

You dig your nail into the cuticle bed of your thumbs as you listen to him lie straight to your face.

“Jenny didn’t text me though. She probably has something else going on this weekend.”

“Nope!” Yugyeom whips, smiling far too big for this conversation. “I messaged her about tomorrow already.”

“So, you want me to hang out with Jenny…on our anniversary?” You question slowly.

Yugyeom looks away, his ears flushed. He brushes at your hand. “Yeah, you two should catch up, get your nails done or something. You should really stop doing this to your nails.”

You look to your hands, your nail beds raw.

“I’m tired,” you mutter, getting up from your seat first. “I’m gonna go to bed first.”

“Oh, okay…well, just remember, you and Jenny at noon!”

You don’t answer.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Jenny turns to you with concern as the nail technician keeps her right hand hostage. “Is something bothering you?”

“Why are you in town again?” you ask, eyes concentrated on the deep red shade that your nail tech paints onto your fingernails.

“Oh!” In your peripheral, you can see her noticeably jolt. “I came for a conference on Friday and when Yugyeom reached out to me I decided to stay for the weekend.”

“A conference, huh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, turning back to her technician. “You know how much the beauty industry loves their conventions.”

“Must’ve been draining.”

“Yeah, totally. That’s why I didn’t text you I was in town. I was completely exhausted by the end of it that I completely forgot.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Mhm,” she turns back to you. “You should add a gold accent. Gold accent, please!”

Your nail tech nods, bringing out another tray of gold embellishment from underneath her desk. You turn your head, hearing the click of Jenny’s nails on the screen of her phone. There’s a bright smile on her face and it makes you want to burst into tears on the spot.

At first you thought maybe the two of them planned for Jenny to reveal the truth to you. You didn’t think Yugyeom was a coward but lately, none of the things you thought before make sense anymore. However, after hours spent with Jenny, all you’ve managed was getting prettier nails and lots of lies from who you thought was your best friend.

“Gorgeous,” Jenny coos, leaning in to admire your fingers.

“Yeah,” you murmur half-heartedly, feeling your spirit fully deplete.

No confession comes. No explanation. When evening comes, Jenny sends you right back home. Your walk up to the apartment is slow. This is it, isn’t it? Gyeom needed time to prepare himself to break up with you. It’s why he didn’t want to be with you for your anniversary.

Your stomach sinks when you get to your door. Was this your last time ever entering? Where were you going to move to?

As the familiar tone of the keypad rings in your ear, hot tears prick at your eyes. Stepping into the house, your vision blurs as you step through the hallway and into the kitchen. Yugyeom is standing at the stove when he turns to you with a smile.

“You’re back!” he greets you. When you hear his laughter, tears spill down your cheeks. “Crying already, babe? You haven’t even tasted it.”

Hiccupping, you try to calm yourself but the more you try to contain the tears, the more your chest fills with fear and floods you. You cry even harder, a terrible wail leaving your throat.

The sound of tin crashes onto the floor and quickly, you are enveloped in Yugyeom’s warmth. The feeling only makes you more sick and you bury your face into his chest, crying harder. Your last embrace. Your last time being comforted by him. The thoughts send sharp pains straight to your chest.

Yugyeom holds you tight against him, taking the impact of your shaking body to his chest. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

It’s a long time before you feel calm enough to stand on your own. When you finally do, stepping back from his arms, you feel yourself tearing up again from seeing the concern on his face.

“What happened?” he whispers, fingers reaching out for yours.

You pull away though, taking another step back.

“Yugyeom,” your voice comes out shaky but determined. “Are we breaking up?”

Tears spill again.

Yugyeom looks at you with a shocked expression. “What? Where is this coming from?”

“You don’t love me anymore,” you cry.

“Of course I do! What are you talking about?”

“Then why did you lie to me?” You look at him sharply, gaze severe despite the shine of tears. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence breaks your heart.

Lips quivering, you sit down at the kitchen table. “You lied to me. Jenny lied to me…H-how long? How long have you been doing this?”

“Baby,” Yugyeom whispers, bending to the floor. He rests his hands on your thighs, looking up at you and there are tears in his eyes two. “Baby…baby, you’ve got this all wrong.”

“Even if it’s not Jenny, it’s still not me, is it?” you whimper, tears spilling down your chin. They splatter on the back of his hands. “You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t want to share anything with me. Not even stories about your day.”

Tears run down Yugyeom’s cheeks as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“No, no, baby, you’re wrong.”

You sniff, cupping your palm to his wet cheek. “I want to be wrong. Please prove me wrong, Gyeom.”

“I was trying to keep it a secret,” he scoffs to himself, shaking his head. “I was planning this for months.”

“Planning?”

“I was so afraid I’d accidentally let it slip, or that you’d find it.”

You frown, brows furrowing in confusion now. “Find what, Gyeom?”

Yugyeom takes in a deep breath, breaking into a gentle smile as he glances down at the kitchen floor. Following his gaze, you realize he had dropped a tray of chocolates earlier.

“Chocolates?”

“Champagne Truffles,” he tells you, reaching down to grab one.

“You…you made a new recipe?”

Yugyeom lets out a loud sigh. “Good thing I marked it.”

You look at him, bewildered. He chuckles softly, turning to you again.

“I’m not going to break up with you, baby,” he laughs, digging his thumb into the spine of the chocolate until it bursts with a pop. “I’m trying to spend my whole life with you.”

Your hands to fly to your mouth in surprise as a fresh wave of tears spring to your eyes. He drops the chocolate shell to the floor, holding onto the shining gold band with shaking hands.

“Every day since meeting you,” his voice breaks and you cry, hands coming to cup his face as tears run down his cheeks too. “I thought I had a good life, and then I met you…And then I realized, I was missing everything before you came into my life.”

“Gyeom,”

He sniffs, breaking into a smile as more tears fall from his eyes. “Baby, you’re my everything. You’re the first person I want to tell anything to. You don’t know how hard it’s been trying to keep this from you.”

You laugh with him, “And Jenny.”

He nods. “She was helping me pick out the ring, plan the event, pick the flowers.”

You grin, pressing your forehead to his. “You bought me flowers!”

He laughs, nose brushing softly against yours. “Yeah, and a ring too…if you want it.”

“I do, I do, I do,” you giggle against him as your tears wet his cheek.

He chuckles, breath ghosting your lips.

“Not yet, baby, that one’s for the wedding,” he chuckles and you laugh with him.

“Either way, it’s I do.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #kim yugyeom #got7 series #fluff #angst #writing #fanfiction #le chocolatier series

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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

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Call for Action

Series Summary: You finally get your dream job, but it comes with a cost.

Warnings: Description of panic attack

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Beep beep beep beep.

You groaned and threw your hand blindly over your alarm clock. If there was one sound you hated the most, it had to be that thing. You would throw it out the window if you could, only you would sleep through the most important day in your life so far: the jumpstart of your career.

At the thought, you dragged yourself upright and looked over at the time. You had been dreaming of this day since you were a little kid, there was no way in hell you would miss it. You still remembered how you and your dad used to play pretend practically every afternoon, just like all the other kids. But with you, everything had to be just right. The stuffed animals needed a place, the lines needed to be said, the scenery had to be just right. And even from those days, your father always told you how that attitude would blow someone away, how your name would be in lights. Today was that day.

You started your morning with a creamy coffee (something you told yourself you would never reduce yourself to) and a packed omelette. By waking up several minutes earlier you had some time to sit and reflect for the day, something you had always enjoyed every morning.

You were nervous as all hell, but as your dad kept telling you, you'd be okay. He was your main support in this whacked out experience called life, as your mother had estranged him way too long ago to remember. If there was an event for school or a big test coming up, he would always be rooting for you by your side. You couldn't think of a time where he ever wasn't there.

You had moved from your hometown up to Vancouver, hoping your head wouldn't misguided you up in the clouds. You hadn't felt this nervous since the interview, which you somehow landed. Your dad, as always, said it was due to your confidence and goal-setting values. You liked to think otherwise.

Your mental health made your life a living hell for as long as you could remember. You never had a terrible childhood, nothing to complain about. Yet your head decided to create problems of its own. Maybe it was your grade that never looked at you right, or the teacher who gave you one bad grade that one year. You never knew what it was.

Your stomach churned anxiously; you looked down at your half eaten omelette and decided to save it for lunch later. You finished what was left of your coffee and got yourself ready for the day ahead of you.

By the time you had finished up and driven to work, you noticed you had just enough time to get where you needed to be. You were only lucky you weren't needed earlier at a hair or makeup trailer as other coworkers would. The lot surprisingly wasn't as bustling with people as you first thought; only an occasional PA running across where they were needed.

You arrived at the main office, where you assumed you would collect today's schedule. You were greeted by a stocky man wearing a casual striped button down.

"Hello, you must be (Y/N). I'm Paul, I'm a receptionist here." He said.

"Hi Paul, nice to meet you." You said.

"I assume you didn't get the memo that our schedules are usually sent by email, but that's okay. We always have a physical copy available up front too, for PR." He continued.

"Oh, thank you! I'm glad you let me know, I rarely check my email these days anymore." You commented.

"It's no problem! Between you and me, I rarely do myself. So feel free to stop here every morning for a copy." He said with a wink.

You chuckled and gave him a genuine smile before leading yourself to sit in the waiting area. Looking over the schedule, you felt your stomach clench. You were no stranger to long shifts, but this was a long haul you weren't used to. You instantly felt flushed and knew you needed to find a bathroom, fast.

"Excuse me Paul, but where is your nearest bathroom?" You asked.

"Down the hall to the right." He said from the front desk.

You quickly thanked him and sped walked to the bathroom. You locked the door and put a hand over your mouth to try and suppress the sob. As always, overthinking would leave you jobless. You never lasted long before going to the next job; just long enough to get unemployment.

Suddenly, you felt warm and unable to breathe. You fanned yourself with a schedule before hearing a knock on the door. You looked over your face (which was red and blotchy), took a shuddering deep breath, and opened the door to see a very handsome young man. If you couldn't breathe before, you certainly wouldn't be able to now. His blond hair and green eyes practically sparkled in the fluorescent lighting.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know this bathroom was occupied." The man said.

You cleared your throat and struggled to speak.

"No um, that's- yeah. Do you need to use it?" You asked.

"If you still need it, I can find another bathroom. It's okay, really." The man said.

"No!" You caught yourself for being too loud. "I was just finishing up, you can use it."

The man looked at you once more before entering the bathroom you just came out of. You felt yourself take a breath before breaking your eyesight away from the door. The panic attack you were just immersed in was completely gone, and you knew it wasn't just because of the gorgeous man that just happened to cross your path. Well, not entirely. He just made you feel calm inside despite all the butterflies bouncing around in your stomach.

Maybe this wasn't going to be as bad after all.

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

"And.. scene!" You yelled out to the set.

The buzzers all rang and you went forward to one of the side actors for the scene.

"Pam, that was incredible. Thank you. You as well Celine." You said. "Everyone can take a lunch break and meet back in an hour."

The day had been going by relatively well, quelling any anxious thoughts that had come up earlier. The actors and actresses had no flubs in their acting, crew even worked together well to your surprise. Everyone seemed to be like a large family here, which was usually unheard of in the industry. It put you at ease knowing everyone could work together this well.

You headed over to the lunch tables with your half of an omelet from this morning, not expecting a full-out food service to be made available to you. You shrugged and decided to finish the omelette you made first before digging into what they had in store. Just as you began to eat, you noticed the attractive man from earlier was making his way towards your table.

"Hey, I saw you earlier right?" He asked.

You nodded as you took a bite into your omelette.

"Is it okay if I sit here? I figured you could use some company."

You swallowed your food before speaking. "Yeah sure, that's fine."

There was a brief pause before you spoke again.

"I don't believe I introduced myself to you. I'm (Y/N), one of the new directors." You said, reaching out a clean hand to shake.

"Hi (Y/N), Jensen. I'm an actor here." He said, shaking your hand.

"How long have you been working here?" You asked.

"Since day one; pretty well-seasoned." Jensen joked.

"I guess so. Hey, maybe you could show me the ropes later?" You asked.

He smiled, sending warmth throughout your body. "Sure, not a problem."

You both paused to continue eating for another moment. You couldn't help but steal a look at him before looking back at your food. He was so nice to look at. Even without makeup, you could bet he looked just as beautiful. It was the eyes that drew you in. But as you looked more, you noticed some other features. He had freckles lightly dusted across his nose, barely visible with the foundation he wore. His eyelashes were so long and full, as if he wore false ones. But you knew better, they were real. You also caught him doing the same thing as you moments later. Giving you a look over before returning back to his food, not wanting to be impolite. It was sweet, charming even.

"I wanted to ask, and it's okay if you don't want to answer, were you okay earlier?" Jensen asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

You hesitated briefly, wondering if you could trust him. You didn't see a reason not to, but you put up a wall, just to be safe. After all, a pretty face could mean trouble.

"That? Yeah was just overwhelmed with emotion was all. I got lucky to land a job like this." You said.

"Alright, just checking. If you ever need anyone though, just remember I'm always here, even though we just met." Jensen said.

"Oh, thank you." You said, taken aback.

"You're welcome." He said. "And you're right, by the way."

He paused to sip his drink.

"About what?" You asked.

"Being lucky to work here. Believe me, you'll love it here. We'll all make you feel at home in no time." Jensen said.

"I'm starting to see it already, I noticed the crew earlier." You said.

Just as you began wrapping up the conversation, another tall and handsome man stopped by the table with some lunch.

"Hey, what's up?" He asked Jensen.

"Just getting acquainted with one of our new directors. (Y/N), this is my best friend Jared. Jared, (Y/N)." Jensen said.

You both shook hands and said your hellos before Jared slid his butt next to Jensen.

"Is it alright if I sit here? Sorry, I should have asked first." Jared said.

"No, no it's fine. You're not bothering anyone." You said.

"Awesome!" Jared said. "So, are you a new new director, or just a new gig?"

"Actually, this is my first gig as a director." You said.

"No way, how cool!" Jared said.

"Yeah, it's actually always been a dream of mine." You admitted.

"Well, good for you. That's incredible!" Jensen said.

"What he said." Jared said.

"Thanks." You said with a smile. "Just hope it works out well for me."

"I think you'll be just fine." Jared said. "Jensen told you about how we are around here?"

"Yeah, like family?" You said.

"Exactly." Jared said.

A notification went off on Jared's phone and he laughed obnoxiously before typing quickly. Jensen peered over in curiosity

"Dude, look what Misha posted." Jared said.

Jensen looked at Jared's phone before joining in the laughter. Jared without warning turned the phone over towards you. You giggled to see a picture of a man of similar age putting lipstick on his left nipple with the caption: So

@tumblr just officially banned “adult content” including something called, “female-presenting nipples.” I can only assume my nipples will now sadly be banned there. But hopefully @twitter and @instagram will let them stand.

"Is he an actor too?" You asked.

"Yep, he won't be here for about another week though. Lucky bastard." Jared said.

"Looks like I'm in for a ride with you three, huh?" You asked.

Jared smirked mischievously. "Oh you have no idea." He said.

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

Jared wasn't kidding when he said you were in for a ride with the three of them. Later on that day, you finally had the chance to take him off his word. The schedule had them booked for the rest of the day alongside you. Which you didn't find odd finding out they were the main characters. Only you were figuring they booked more time on purpose for them than they needed, just so the schedule allowed. At first, you expected some slip ups and laughed it off with them. Then it seemed like you couldn't get them through the scene at all, which was beyond frustrating.

Around the fifth take, you began to panic and excused yourself to the eating area for a quick break to regain your composure. To your luck, you were followed.

"Hey, are you okay?"

The voice startled you and you turned around, snots and all. Great, it was all over for you. You didn't answer, hoping Jensen would go away and leave you be until the next scene. But he wouldn't budge; he sat down next to you.

"Clearly not… What's bothering you?" He asked.

"Remember, you're the director. You need to tell him." You thought to yourself.

"It's you and Jared. I can't make it through these scenes without you two fucking around, and we need to get things moving. It's a bit much." You said aloud.

Jensen chuckled, confusing you.

"That's what's getting at you? (Y/N), Jared and I do this stuff all the time. We only do it to lighten the mood or welcome someone into the family. If it bothers you, I'll tell him to stop." Jensen explained.

"Really, you'd do that? I'd appreciate it. It's my first day on the job and I'd hate to look incompetent." You said.

"Of course. And you don't look that way at all, these things just happen. I've been watching your work so far, and I think you're doing great." Jensen said.

You sniffled and wiped away your tears. "Thanks Jensen, seriously."

"You're welcome. Now what do you say we get back on the playing field there, champ?" Jensen said.

You chuckled and agreed. For the rest of the day, there were no more jokes when the cameras were rolling. It was kind of what you had expected for your first day. No one was cold to one another, just professional and friendly.

Later on after some advice from another fellow director, you got in your car and drove home to your small apartment. You knew there were going to be some flubs and that it wouldn't be perfect, but you finally had your dream job with a once in a lifetime crew. You barely had gotten to know everyone, but you knew they would have your back if you needed it. And that's all that mattered.

When you went to bed that night, you sighed in relief. Who would have thought that a year ago you were at a dead-end job, dreaming of where you were right now. Your stomach clenched again at all of the anxieties everything would probably bring. You just hoped it would be all worth it in the end.

#jensen x reader #Jensen Ackles #spn reader insert #jared padalecki #misha collins #call for action series #call for action

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hypnoticwinter · 4 years

Text

Down the Rabbit Hole part 1

It's five in the afternoon just outside of Corpus Christi and I and my poor old Elantra with the broken AC are stuck in a traffic jam because some dickhead decided he wanted to cut across five lanes of traffic and got mangled by a semi truck. And then the jam’s compounded by all of the damn lookie-looes slowing down to a crawl as they squirm through the two lanes still open, the metaphorical arteries of the gigantic beast that is the United States highway system, trying to get a good look at something gory on the way home.

I'm slowly melting into my seat, barely able to keep my eyes open. I keep glancing over at the water bottle I'd set snugly into the passenger seat, my cupholders being full with spare change and old receipts and little mini bottles of hand sanitizer, but just the way the sun's reflecting off of it makes me sick thinking about how warm the water would be by now.

I'm a few cars back from the wreck now. A police officer, looking sweaty and tired, steps out into the road, stopping traffic to let a couple of paramedics cross. A loud radio ad is playing in the car next to me and I look over. The guy in it looks about as done with this as I feel. I smile to myself, go back to watching the wreck.

The paramedics have stopped now and are talking to the policeman in the middle of the road. He looks annoyed, gestures at the cars ahead of him. One of the paramedics shakes his head and points back towards one of the cars.

The radio ad ends and the throbbing beat of Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" comes on and I find myself singing along under my breath without even thinking about it.

Harry Truman, Doris Day, Red China, Johnnie Ray

South Pacific, Walter Winchell, Joe DiMaggio...

Another paramedic joins the group in the middle of the highway and then they hustle over to the wreck. The police officer gestures and we move fractionally forwards, then stop again. The asshole in the giant pickup truck ahead of me has decided to stop and watch them peel the door off the crushed sedan like the scab off a fresh cut. I can see something pink and fleshy and hurt-looking inside, where the driver's seat ought to have been, and I look away quickly.

We didn't start the fire

It was always burning since the world's been turning...

I end up meeting the eyes of the guy in the car next to me. He's bobbing his head along to Billy Joel and gives me a somewhat sheepish, embarrassed look. He's balding, looks about forty. A tired, haggard, sweaty face. I roll my eyes and smile at him and he smiles back. Someone behind me honks and I twist backwards and give him the finger, really slam it at him against the dirty rear window. We're rolling forwards so slowly that it's absurd to even honk, just people blowing off steam. I suppose on some level it's equally absurd to give him the finger for it, but whatever.

Lebanon, Charles de Gaulle, California baseball

ARPANET, Free Tibet, what's in Mystery Flesh Pit?

Buddy Holly, Ben Hur, space monkey, Mafia

Hula hoops, Castro, Edsel is a no-go...

Wait. What?

Now that we're past the wreck the highway widens out. More lanes open and the guy next to me merges over to the left. Billy Joel's voice disappears into engine noises and honks and the sound of the wind whipping past my open windows, but I still keep thinking about the lyrics I had just mouthed along to.

What the hell is a Mystery Flesh Pit?

I glance over at the phone sitting in its holster on the dash but something about the way the car I’d just past had crunched in on itself like a discarded candy wrapper makes me think better of it. I shift a lane or two to the right, get in line for my exit, and then I'm off the freeway. I make every light on the way to my apartment, all four of them, and it's just enough time that I forget about the line in the song. I jump into the shower and let the cold water run over me for fifteen minutes, which turns into thirty, which turns into forty-five, which turns into an hour.

When I get out I'm shivering but the warm Texas air blowing through my open window wraps me up like a warm hug, and I shrug into a flannel shirt, leave it unbuttoned. I put my cigarette out, leave it crumpled in the ashtray, stifle my coughs. I’m still not used to smoking this much. I eye the half-empty pack laying on the table but I let it alone.

The letter I received yesterday is on the kitchen table where I'd dropped it. The envelope is still on the floor somewhere. I think about going back and reading it again, or going and finding the envelope and throwing it away, but I don't want to. There wouldn’t be a point.

My phone buzzes; I see the name of the contact and let it ring. I don’t want to talk to him.

Outside, down in the courtyard, an old man is taking his dog for a walk. There is a vast darkened array of clouds closing in from the east and it already smells like rain, the wind is carrying it. I might take a walk too, later tonight.

I go back to the dresser and take my shirt off, slip a bra on, and then put the shirt back on. I almost light another cigarette, then I stop myself.

What the hell is Mystery Flesh Pit?

I had almost forgotten. Almost, but not quite. Billy Joel got stuck in my head and while I'd been puttering I'd hummed along until I got to that verse.

I shake my head and go get my laptop, type it into google half-expecting to find a porn site. A few travelogue type posts, a Wikipedia page...I click on that one and get hit with a redirect. Permian Basin Superorganism Containment Area? ("Mystery Flesh Pit" redirects here. For the defunct U.S. National Park, see...)

I read the page, and then I stop. The growing sense of unease I felt while I devoured the Wikipedia article is now almost too much for me to handle.

This can't possibly be real. This has to be a prank or something, some kind of internet joke gone out of control. I click on the link to the National Park and see pictures, too many and too high quality to be faked. It's like something out of a Michael Crichton novel but it's real. It has to be.

The Permian Basin Superorganism (Immanis Collosseus), I read, is a subterranean organism unique to modern biology, being the sole occupant of the Phylum Immanemqa. The organism was discovered by a pilot well drilling crew in 1973; later efforts were made to expose more of the organism through drilling and surface mining explosives. The Permian Basin Superorganism is notable for its immense size, being the largest living animal on the planet, its equally immense age, and for the degree and sophistication of human exploitation concerning the animal, culminating in the opening of a National Park largely within the creature’s body, allowing visitors to descend within the Permian Basin Superorganism and…

I read about gullets and bones and digestion, about an ancient animal of some kind living baked into the stone and earth outside of Gumption, Texas. I read about the sheer enormity of it, I read about how a mining company turned it into a tourist attraction, splitting its throat wide open with metal retaining walls and letting people ride an elevator a thousand feet down into its insides. I read about ballast, some kind of secretion exuded by the creature that acts as a kind of panacea, healing afflictions untouchable by conventional medicine. They made great baths out of the glands that produced it, let people bathe in its diluted aphrodisiac waters. I read, finally, about the 2007 disaster that closed the park, when a pump failed to activate and drowned the thing, making it wake up – god, wake up? – and swallow almost seven hundred people, making it spew caustic vomit so high into the air that there are still pockets of it being found here and there nearly a hundred miles away, burning into the ground and poisoning water tables. And the way they managed to get it to go back to sleep is classified by the US Government. Did they nuke it? Christ, Gumption is only...okay, well, it's about five hundred miles away, so I guess I'm a little less concerned, but, god, this happened in the same state as me and this is only the first time I'm hearing about it. July Fourth, 2007...

I realize after a moment, with a strange little knot in my stomach, that actually, I did hear about it. I wasn't in the state in 2007. It was four years ago, I'd just gotten out of school and I was still in Oklahoma, but I remember my parents telling me about an earthquake at midnight that they'd felt, that woke them up, knocked a couple of things over. I had never known...

I feel a little like I've just woken up and gone to the bathroom and looked outside and all of a sudden the sky is a bright green, and everybody I ask about it just looks at me really strangely and says that it's always been green.

I google my way all over the internet, looking at photos people have taken decades ago on their family trips, hosted on filesharing sites or on ancient GeoCities-era pages. I see smiling families, people in hiking gear, people swimming inside biological hot springs, people digging pitons into great sheer walls of flesh, not minding the blood that gushes out. I see a shaky video someone's taken of their television, of CNN back on the Fourth of July, 2007, I see a vast bloody pit, carved into the great flat nothing of central Texas.

I feel like my head is spinning. I get up, get away from the computer, grab another cigarette and smoke it slowly, standing on the balcony, looking out over the sprawling cityscape in the general direction of Gumption, Texas, or at least where I think it should be. If north is that way, then…

Alright. It's real. There's enough evidence, photographs, videos, spread across so many different web sites that it would be impossible to fake. I look up an old rating list of National Parks, making sure that it's from around 2004 or so, and find Mystery Flesh Pit near the bottom. The tiny two-sentence blurb describes it as "strange," "horrifying," and "easily skippable," so I guess that could also explain why I had never heard of it.

And, of course, the ballast. Some kind of miracle liquid. I read on Wikipedia that they’d tried to synthesize it after July 4th, after the supplies had been cut off, but no matter how molecularly perfect they could make the compound it was so much drossy bathwater, without the power to cure even a hangnail. It has to come straight from the source for it to be any good - who knows why.

There is a slow, anxious curl unwinding in my stomach, and for a moment, I fear the results it may lead me to.

I look at the map I'd opened in another tab again; Gumption, Texas; a tiny little county named after a tiny little town, or so I've heard. Now that I’m thinking about it, I vaguely remember passing through Gumption once, very briefly, during a family road trip back when I was six, but I don't remember much more than that. The only reason I even recognize the name of the town is because at the time I thought it was a funny name and I kept saying it to myself after I'd asked my mom what the word on the sign meant when we drove into town. Welcome to Gumption. Did it have more, perhaps? “Home of the Mystery Flesh Pit?” I don't remember visiting the Mystery Flesh Pit National Park, that's for sure. I think that would have stuck with little six-year-old me.

I eye the scale on the map, use my fingers to estimate the distance from Corpus Christi to Gumption.

It'd be a solid day of driving, seven or eight hours on the road, not counting breaks for food, sleep, restroom. I grimace at the computer screen, then zoom the map out. Lubbock, though...I could take a plane to Lubbock. That'd be, what, like two hours? Maybe? And then rent a car, drive down to Gumption...

I swallow, then laugh at myself. Why bother? I think. Why bother driving down to look at some fences and security guards? It's closed off, the Wikipedia page said, nobody in or out, just some scientists and a sedative plant. The fun stopped when it woke up, back in ‘07.

Flights are cheap. Ninety-nine dollars, ninety-five dollars. I start to type in the address to check my bank balance, then stop, fold the computer closed. I want a cigarette.

On my way out to the window my foot brushes against the envelope I'd left discarded on the floor and again I think of picking it up and putting it away, and again I leave it there. It doesn't really matter.

It'd be a horrible waste of money, probably. And I doubt I'd find anything really meaningful. Even if, you know, I use the excuse of going and looking around so I could write a story on it or something, I don't know if Jim, my editor, would really care that much. From what it seems, Mystery Flesh Pit is ancient history.

I take another look at the sheet of paper sitting on the table, curled over on itself like a dead spider. Fuck it, I think, then repeat myself out loud. I stub out the cigarette and go retrieve my cell phone, look up the phone number for American Airlines out of Corpus Christi airport. Fifteen minutes on hold later I am the proud owner of one business class ticket to Lubbock, Texas, leaving in four hours out of gate nine. I hang up the call and say "fuck it" aloud again because it makes me feel a little better, and then I go pack.

The plane ride is okay. Security was a bear and a half but it always is. I realized from the pleasant-unnerving swooping sensation in my stomach when we took off that it had been long enough since the last time I'd been on a plane that I had forgotten what it feels like. I was lucky to grab a window seat next to a little kid and his father; they didn't bother me as much as I'd expected. Once he turned to me to show me something on the handheld video game he was playing but his father quickly intercepted him and apologized to me; I was a little put out, honestly, I would have wanted to look at it. I'd forgotten to stick a book in my carry-on so I had been stuck staring out the window, and about a half hour in the plane had angled in such a way that the setting sun was glaring me right in the face and daring me to enjoy the scenery, so I did the most sensible thing I could and closed the shutter and tried to fall asleep. I think I managed to do so about fifteen minutes before we landed, which lead to me letting out a rather embarrassing yelp when the landing jolted me awake. The kid and his dad looked at me and I blushed, mentally kicking myself for blushing, but I smiled at them and shrugged and said that I'd fallen asleep and we had a laugh about it.

Lubbock is alright, I guess, if you don’t look at it too closely or stay too long. I rent a car at the airport and drive into town, and consider driving to Gumption that night, but I decide after some deliberation that it'll be better to do a little reconnaissance here first, if I really am going to make a story out of this. Am I? I've been treating that as my excuse so far and yeah, I brought my voice recorder and my camcorder and my DSLR and plenty of memory cards and extra batteries...but I guess I hadn't really taken it seriously.

The city's very alive at night, more so, it seems to me, than Corpus Christi, but I also don't get out very much back home, so maybe my perception is skewed. Everywhere I look there are clubs and shows and bars and things, and then, as I pass into the seedier areas, huddled groups of people spotted here and there. I imagine they’re eying me as I drive past and I tamp down the little curl of fear rising in my stomach.

I find a Motel 6 and then I try to find a Waffle House, but seemingly there aren’t any in Lubbock. I settle for someplace called The Pancake House, and then in a couple of hours I feel better, and then a couple of hours after that I finally manage to fall asleep.

I wake up having slept like the dead. I think about going someplace for breakfast but think better of it after I sit up too quickly and my stomach gives an uneasy lurch in protest. I get dressed leisurely – it is my weekend, after all. For a moment I even manage to fantasize that I'll be able to catch a flight home in time to make it to work on Monday but then I laugh at myself, which I seem to be doing quite a lot of lately.

Barely a hundred miles away, Mystery Flesh Pit is waiting for me. I don't know what I'll find there – personally, I feel rather certain it'll be a hell of a let-down – but it feels nice to have a purpose for once, to feel as though my life is being put to some kind of use other than to see how many cigarettes I can smoke in a single day and still retain some dignity.

It's nice to not have to think.

I take a breath and throw some clothes on and get started on the hard part.

* * *

The guy mopping the floor at the bus stop:

"Excuse me, sir? Do you know anything about the Mystery Flesh Pit Disaster of 2007?"

"The what?"

Businessman on the street, approached while tying his shoes:

"Excuse me, sir? I'm doing some research on the Mystery Flesh Pit disast –"

"I'm sorry, lady, I don't have any money."

Lady at the counter of the pharmacy:

"Excuse me, ma'am? I'm trying to find out some information on the Mystery Flesh Pit, do you have a moment to talk about it?"

"Sure, honey, but I'm afraid I don't know that much about it. That was back in, what, 2003? 2004?"

"2007, actually. Did you ever happen to visit while the park was still operating?"

"It was a park? I just remember something about some sort of tunnel collapse."

"Right. Thanks for your time."

Guy at the 7-11, asked while filling up the tank on my car next to him:

"Hey, dude, you know anything about the Mystery Flesh Pit?"

"Went there once when I was a kid. Pretty cool. Why?"

"I'm a reporter, doing a story on it. You remember the disaster that closed it down?"

"It's closed now? That's lame. What happened?"

"Thing woke up and ate everybody."

"For real?"

"Yeah. I've been asking around, like nobody's heard about it. Kind of surprising."

He taps his finger to his chin. "You know," he says thoughtfully, "it has been like five years since then."

"Four years."

"Even so. People don't have any kind of attention span any more."

His pump clicks off and so does our conversation.

Yeah, alright, maybe it isn't a very representative group, but it seems like nobody cares. Is that reasonable? Well...seven hundred plus people died, most in pretty gruesome ways, according to Wikipedia. Then there were the, god, the thousand or ten-thousand-plus people affected by the vomit and ejecta scattered hundreds of miles away. I’m not sure. You'd expect that apathy from the rest of the nation, maybe, I don't know why somebody in Arkansas or Kentucky or Illinois or wherever would give a fuck if they didn't personally know somebody who was affected, but here? Just a hundred miles from the place or so?

Maybe they did a really good job of cleaning up the cities, maybe it's only the little towns and places where the legacy of it has really clung on. I know there has to be a story, somebody who was there, somebody who saw it. That jerky camcorder video of CNN is a start, but something real, something visceral, in the words of a survivor...

That was the one thing I didn’t find much of. No memoirs, no autobiographies, just a few mentions here and there but nothing like a back-to-front story of what that night was like. That is what I’m really after.

I put my cigarette out in one of those trashcan-cum-ashtrays that dot the corners of every city I've ever been to, Lubbock no exception. I get in the rental car and again forget that it has crank windows instead of buttons. "To the library, and step on it," I giggle to myself as I pull out into traffic. I feel a little lightheaded and I remember that I never bothered to eat anything.

Perusal of the newspaper archives at the Mahon Public Library downtown confirmed what I'd already assumed – that there was no big government coverup, there was no conspiracy of that sort. The disaster at the Mystery Flesh Pit was capital-letter Very Big News for about a month, back in 2007, at least in the area. The stories towards the end of the month cast a little light on why it didn't last, though – it wasn't ongoing, it was just sort of a one-and-done thing. Yeah, finding the caustic vomit everywhere kicked up another stink a week or so later but the Powers That Be seemed to get that under control fairly quickly, at least in more populated areas. After that there were grumblings about disclosure and fault and blame and all that, and quite a few articles about Anodyne Mining or whoever going bankrupt but by the end of the month, aside from a few overly sentimental memorial pieces dedicated to delicately sidestepping the exact causes of death of the people they were memorializing, the news had moved on.

A librarian pokes around the corner with a cart and smiles at me; I smile back at her. She's young, pretty, long skirt, dark eyes. I scoot forward so she can pass behind me. I read on for a while, the faint swish of her skirt and the slim sliding sound of books going back into shelves registering dimly and pleasantly in the back of my mind. I put the paper down and stretch a little, and then I notice she's glancing over at me. I smile at her again.

"Doing some research?" she asks, and I nod.

"Yes," I say. "I'm a reporter for a paper in Corpus Christi and I'm doing a story on the Mystery Flesh Pit. Have you heard of it?"

As soon as the words pass my lips there's something dark and guarded lurking in her eyes that makes me perk my ears up. She waits a couple of seconds before she answers, clearly thinking of what to say, of how much to tell me. I mention, after a moment, that I'm surprised that so few people here in Lubbock seem to really remember it or care about it, and she nods, leans up against her cart.

"It was a big deal for a while," she says, gesturing to the stack of papers next to me, "but after that I guess it just wasn't exciting any more. The only people who really remember it are out in all the small towns where it really affected them. Here, in Lubbock, they just had vans working overtime to clean everything up and then it was easy to forget about. Every now and then I hear about them finding another pile of that vomit somewhere just...festering away out there in the desert."

"Were you there?"

"No," she says, "but my brother was."

"I'm sorry," I tell her. I want to reach out and touch her or something but I don't know if she'd appreciate it, so instead I keep my sympathy subdued. "Is he - ?"

"No, no," she says quickly, "he's alright. He was a park ranger there, he just…happened to be working that night. He, ah...it really fucked him up for a while," she says finally, giving me a grimace. "We haven't talked in a long time."

"I'm sorry," I say again. "That must have been hard, for both of you."

"Yeah," she says, cutting her glance downwards. "He always said some strange things about the disaster, real Alex Jones type stuff. But he just couldn't, you know, move on at all. We got in a big fight about it and, well, that was that."

I wonder what to say for a moment before I cross my legs, set the newspapers aside. "You must have gone there, then, while it was still operating."

"Yes, plenty of times."

"What was it like?"

She laughs softly. "God, that's such a...like, where do I even begin, you know? Have you been to many other National Parks?"

"A few," I tell her. "Not as many as I'd have liked. Crater Lake, Devil's Tower, Badlands, Petrified Forest..."

She laughs. "Real Midwest girl, aren't you?"

"Hey, Crater Lake is in Oregon, that's not the Midwest."

"I wasn't knocking it. Um. Well, it wasn't like any other park you've ever been to, I can guarantee that. It was like, you drive up to it and you park and you walk up these stairs to get to the main observatory building, and you get in there and you look down and there's just...skin. In a hole in the ground. It was extremely disconcerting. From that distance it didn't look real, it looked like it was plasticine or something, like it was a model. And there was something...I don't know, kind of lewd about it?"

"Lewd?"

"Yeah. The way they were spreading it open with these giant metal, like, flanges or whatever, and how it was all raw and pink around the opening...Freud would have had a field day with it. Made you feel like you were watching a gynecological exam."

"I still kind of can't believe they found this thing and thought opening a theme park was the best thing to do with it."

"It was the 70s, I guess." she shrugs. "Place is old, you know. Anyway, once you actually got down into it, it was...it was an experience. You rode this giant elevator down and they had a massive visitor center something like 1200 feet down inside the thing's throat, and you could look out the windows and see all this flesh outside. It was honestly like something out of a movie, it was so surreal. I went there a bunch of times with my brother cause he got an employee discount and I could get in for five dollars and I saw at least ten people have panic attacks and hyperventilate."

I think about my next question for a moment. "Would you say overall that it was, you know, a negative thing? Like, the park on the whole."

"No, absolutely not."

"Why's that?"

She licks her lips. "I think that it's really easy to forget how small we are. We've done all these great things, we've built civilizations, we've put people on the moon, we're exploring the bottom of the ocean, I think humanity in general likes to think that we have everything figured out." She shrugs. "The Mystery Flesh Pit is a really good reminder that we know basically nothing. I mean, they were studying it but they knew practically nothing about it, not how big it was, not whether there were more creatures like it elsewhere in the world, not where it came from, not even if it was awake or if it could move or what the thing looked like as a whole. I think what they ended up doing with it was stupid as hell, but as far as the experience of actually going down inside of it and walking around on a trail and, I don't know, watching macrobacteria roll past outside the fence or seeing something really weird moving around down there and seeing the park ranger guiding you not know what it is either, that's an experience I genuinely wish everybody got to have. It'll change your life."

"How did it change yours?"

She laughs. "Besides, you know, everything with the disaster and my brother and all that shit? Just going down there really made me realize who I was."

"How, exactly?"

She shakes her head. "Like I said, I figured out just how small I was and how – I don't know, how insignificant we really are. These days whenever I get worried or bothered or I stress out over something I think about standing there in the elevator looking up through the glass ceiling and watching the light get smaller and dimmer, like I was falling into a bottomless pit, and I find peace."

"Seems like an odd way to find peace."

"Different strokes, right? Anyway. I really ought to put these books away. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

I think about it for a moment, then shrug. "I'm planning on heading down to Gumption tomorrow, aside from the pit itself is there anything else I ought to check out?"

She lets out a low whistle. "I think you're going to be very disappointed. They don't let anybody go to the Pit any more, it's all sealed off, has been for years. And Gumption, well...that town has seen better days. I'll give you a tip, though, even though maybe I shouldn't. Look for my brother there, I know he still lives in town. I can't give you his number or his address, unfortunately, because I don't have them any more, but I know for a fact that he works at the only gas station in town, a 7/11, so ask around there and you'll be able to find him. His name's Peter; I'd tell you to tell him I sent you but I kind of get the feeling that might not get you very far."

I thank her for the tip and set the newspapers aside. If I head out tonight I might be able to get some good shots of the fence around Mystery Flesh Pit. I think of it, of the sunset, then discard the thought. Forget it. I'll need a whole day to really dig into it, I think. And more's the better. I have plenty of batteries, I have plenty of storage. Easy girl, there's no rush. Assuming they let me just walk up and start filming, but if I really hype myself up I can half-believe I could talk my way into at least getting some shots of the fence, at the very least.

"Oh, and one last thing."

I blink, look back up at her. She has a faint smile on her face, probably from watching me zone out, that fades quickly. "Don't stay in Gumption too long."

* * *

The drive down to Gumption is dusty and hot and boring. I get about halfway before I realize I'm not driving my poor old Hyundai, I'm driving a rental car, and that it has a functional air conditioner, and then I feel very silly, for though the wind certainly felt nice on the whole I would have much rather just rolled the windows up and sat in the cool air. I see a grand total of four other cars, all coming from Gumption, on the two-hour drive. It's mostly a straight shot but my phone tells me to take a county road that turns into just a dirt track towards the end that, after a little meandering, plops me out onto a back street of Gumption, Texas.

The research I'd done suggests that at one point Gumption had been a bustling little town, fuelled by the Pit’s tourist draw, and initially its size would indicate that it still is. But as I drove slowly through the empty streets, the general air of disrepair and decay became more and more apparent. I see a couple abandoned houses, and not the foreclosed sort with realtor's signs out front, but straight-up shattered-glass, boarded-windows, holes-in-the-roofs abandoned. The ones that weren't just looked sad, like no one was taking care of them properly. The cars parked on the street are all at least five or six years old, as best as I can tell. I see only two people out and about while I'm driving around at 15 miles an hour, getting some video footage, cruising down the middle of the road, eyes flicking between the empty street ahead and the screen on my camera. One, a youngish-looking black guy, keeps his head down and doesn't look at me, and the other, an old man in a wifebeater mowing his lawn, stares at me all the way down the street, until I turn the corner and pull onto the main road.

There's the 7/11. I'm tempted to head to it right away but I refrain, look for a diner or something, but the ones around look about as welcoming as the rest of the place. There's a McDonald's but it's so small it doesn't even have a drive-through, which is something I'd never seen before. There's a drug store and a liquor store and one of those tiny little storefront churches, something something Starry Wisdom. I think about going to McDonald's but instead I pull a u-turn and head back to the gas station. The clerk, a haggard-looking woman, doesn't look up from her magazine when I walk in. I wander to the back and grab a Coke out of the fridge unit. The credit-card reader is broken so I have to dig around in my wallet and find some bills. The entire exchange continues without any speech at all until I work up my nerve and lick my lips and ask her if there's a hotel around here somewhere.

She looks at me for a few moments and then jerks her head towards the road. Her voice sounds like a frog croaking. "There's a motel down the road a ways. When you pull out take a left and turn at Third street."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"By the way."

"Yeah?"

"Can you tell me when Peter works?"

I had to think for a moment to remember his name. I have it written down in a notebook but it's out in the car. Her eyes flash a little more lively. "Who's asking?"

I think of what to say for a moment before I shrug. "A friend."

For a moment I think she's going to tell me to fuck off, but something in my face must have convinced her. "He's off today. Come in tomorrow at eight or nine at night, he'll be here. He works graveyard most days."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I walk out the door and the heat hits me like a thrown punch. I blow a breath out and lean up against the rough cinderblock edge of the gas station building and drink my Coke.

It's four in the afternoon and it'll take me maybe half an hour to drive down to the Mystery Flesh Pit. It'll be cooler, too, in the evening, and if this town is any indication I doubt there'll be much of a line. I wonder where the people who work there live; maybe they have a dormitory there or something. Clearly they don't live here. Maybe there's some little patch of suburbs somewhere, behind those hills over there, perhaps, where all the people are, but it's four in the afternoon and I've seen a grand total of three other cars driving around, so maybe not.

The guy at the motel gives me a nicer greeting than the lady at the 7-11 did, although not by much; at least I get a few dirty molars of a smile out of him as he hands me the key to my room. I had to wake him up from his nap at the front desk in order to get the room to begin with, and though I tried to do so as gently as I could he still started and almost fell out of his chair.

"Here for the Pit?" he asks as I'm about to leave, and I turn back, glance at him.

"Yeah," I say after a moment. "Just going to see what's there now."

"You're heading over now?"

"Yes."

"Huh," he grunts after a moment. "Most of you folks don't do that 'till dark."

I frown. "Us folks?"

"You know, you..." his eyes roam over my face and his mouth drops open very slightly. "Oh," he says heavily. "Never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing, ma'am. Now if you'll excuse me –"

"Wait, hang on –"

"You have a good day now, ma'am."

He disappears into the back room and I stand there, glaring at the door as it swings shut, key still looped around my finger. I have half a mind to vault the desk and head back there and demand to know what the hell he was talking about, but I take a deep breath and let it out. What could he have meant? Maybe he thinks I work over at the Flesh Pit or something, although that wouldn't explain why they only head over after dark...that doesn't make sense. Tourists, maybe? But that doesn't make sense either.

I chew on my lip for a little while and then shake my head, push the door open and let the heat swallow me up again. There's no sense brooding on it; the only thing to do is to move forward.

* * *

The drive down to Mystery Flesh Pit is, if it were possible, even hotter and more boring than the drive down to Gumption. The heat is pounding on the window and begging me to let it in so I turn up the AC, trying to drown it out, but it's no use. No matter where I put my arm the sun is pouring down on me, and if I leave it still for more than a moment I get that unpleasant prickling sensation that tells me I'm starting to burn already. I've already got a pretty terrible driver's tan from the ride down but this is just overkill.

No cars pass me on the long road that my phone assures me is the way to the Permian Basin Superorganism Containment Corporation. It's only wide enough for one so if someone did come by someone's going off the road. Hopefully not me, as this rental Toyota is not built for that sort of thing. It's already been complaining at me creakily and jostling me around. I'll have to get it a car wash or something when I get back to Lubbock, whenever that ends up being. I didn't read over the rental contract very closely but I'm pretty sure if I bring it back this dusty there's some kind of fee.

You can see the outline of the plant, growing larger up ahead. It looks unassuming, exactly like any other indecipherable cluster of industrial buildings you'd see along the side of the highway, all greyish-white, tubes and pipes and tanks and corrugation, warning signs and fences and barbed wire, power lines and scaffolding and light poles, all clustering out of the ground like mushrooms after a cold rain. The guard in the gatehouse is watching me as I pull up, but I turn off the road, turning the car around so I'll be ready to go whenever I need to, well away from the road so anyone trying to get in or out can get by without any trouble.

The sign on the fence broadly proclaims that this is the site of the Permian Basin Recovery and Superorganism Containment Corporation, and says that the administration building is to the right, along with the barracks, infirmary, commissary, and so on.

I get out, shut the car door, take my camcorder with me. I keep it on but held low, taking a shot of my feet. I wander up to the gatehouse and the guard steps out, hand on the butt of his pistol, resting loose but confident. He has an MP helmet on and I wonder whether the National Guard is in charge of security or something, and then I wonder if I'm about to get got for trespassing. Surely there'd be more of a commotion if I was, right?

The guard has a sharp face but disconcertingly watery eyes. "Hi," I tell him.

"This area's off-limits to civilians, ma'am," he tells me.

"I'm not trying to get in," I assure him. "I'm a journalist, I just want to take some photos. Is that okay?"

He relaxes a little, points up and down the fence. "Right now," he says, "you're on public land. You go over that fence, you're trespassing on Federal land. Understand?"

"Yessir," I grunt, reflexively. Some old habits never die.

"You can take photos of whatever you like except for people inside the fence, understand? Before you leave I will check your camera."

"Yessir."

"Any questions?"

"Can I take a photo of you?"

"Am I inside the fence?"

"No."

"Then yes, you can."

I bring my DSLR up, snap a picture of him. He gives me a cheesy grin. I look at the display and then back up at him. "You blinked."

"Better take another."

I do so. "You know," I say to him, "this is a much more civil interaction than I expected it to be."

He pauses, halfway back to the guardhouse, to shrug at me. "You're just lucky that the government doesn't also own the land around the park. On most military bases it's like that, you know, they own a hundred-foot radius out from the fence, but here it's different."

"Cause it used to be a National Park?"

"I believe so."

"Do I have to stay in your sight or anything?"

He shakes his head. "No, there are cameras. Just make sure you don't touch the fence, it's electric."

I look at the sign on the fence again; I'd sort of skimmed over it before but a few more things catch my eye this time, especially the bright red one proclaiming that it's charged to 10,000 volts. I whistle. "Y'all really don't want people getting in, huh?"

"It's dangerous."

"So I've heard. Want to do an interview?"

"Can't do that, ma'am. What paper are you with?"

"Corpus Christi Star-Tribune."

He raises his eyebrows. "You're a long way from home. What brings you down to Gumption County?"

I briefly explain what got me interested in the Mystery Flesh Pit and he nods. "Lot of people seem to have forgotten about this place. It's for the best, I'd say."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No, ma'am," he says, but not unkindly. "I can't talk to reporters."

"Come on," I wheedle. "Who'd know?"

"We're on camera," he repeats.

"Fair enough," I shrug.

He gets back in the guardhouse and I run a hand through my hair and turn my attention to the fence. I take a shot of the gates, of the fence, of the signs on the fence, of the great bulging buildings visible through the fence. I get a nice one of the fence extending along into the horizon, a great metal wall bisecting the flat, hot plain of West Texas earth, extending into infinity, it seems, a shimmer of heat distortion bubbling off of it down in the distance. I get another good one of the sun dipping downwards behind the plant, swallowed by it, casting shadows across my face, long spidery ones that scrape the ground. Then, once I'm at about fifty-percent capacity on my memory card, I put the camera away and sit there on the trunk of the car, kicking my heels idly against the gravelly ground, taking it all in. I read the sign again and I call out to the guard. After a moment he comes out of the gatehouse again.

"What is it?" he asks.

"What's that sign mean?" I ask him, pointing to it. He turns, looks at it.

"I don't think it's very ambiguous," he tells me, and I roll my eyes.

"No, I'm serious. What the hell does it mean? 'Over 500 people die each year attempting to commune with the Organism?' What does that - ?"

"Ma'am, I really can't talk about it."

I look at him carefully but he seems serious, and the sign, well...it's a sign on an electric fence on federal property, so surely it's serious as well. I turn my camera back on and snap a photo of it, then I realize that there's a bit of background noise, coming slowly closer. It's the rumbling of an engine.

There, down the road, is an unmarked white Econoline van. It flashes its brights at me and I step out of the road, let it pass by, while the guard at the gate straightens his uniform. It pulls up to the gate and the guard leans in. He and the driver have a brief conversation before the guard steps back and reaches into the booth to open the gate. The gate opens but the driver of the van sticks his head out, looks back at me. He has a jowly, bristly face, about two five-o'clock shadows away from a beard, and a large bald spot.

"And you, what are you doing here?" he calls, and I get up, a little surprised to be addressed so abruptly. The guard comes out in a hurry, shaking his head.

"Sir," he starts, but the guy in the van isn't having any of it.

"Shut up for a second," he says. "Lady, what're you doing out here?"

"I'm –"

"Sir, you really shouldn't –"

"Look, lady," he says, gesturing me closer. "Things don't have to go this way. There've been a lot of advances with medical technology that can really help you out with those urges. There's –"

"Urges?" I ask. I get a prickly feeling all up and down my spine, like I'm hearing something I ought not to.

"Sir," the guard says, urgently now, "she's a reporter."

The man's mouth snaps shut so quickly he might as well have been a cartoon character. He flushes an angry red and glares at the guard as though he wants to say something but he just ducks his head back through the window of the car and drives through the gate, which closes after him. I shake my head.

"I suppose," I say after a moment, "that you aren't going to tell me what he meant?"

"Not a chance."

"Well," I say, getting up and stretching, "it's been fun."

"You have a good night now."

"Am I going to get a visit from the Men in Black at my hotel room later?"

"I wouldn't worry about that."

"Riiiight." I waggle my eyebrows at him. "That's exactly what they'd want me to think."

He laughs. "Good luck," he tells me.

"I get the feeling I'll need it."

"You’ll be fine," he says after a moment, but I do not feel reassured.

* * *

I drive back to Gumption with the setting sun blazing in my rearview mirror. It slips out of view entirely and coats the sky in dusky purples that quickly fade to black, and then it's the figurative middle of the night. One-handed I manage to wriggle a cigarette out of the pack on the seat next to me and transfer it to my mouth and then feel around for my lighter, and then I groan and pull over. The guy at the rental desk at the airport had seen the pack of cigarettes in my hand while I was filling out the paperwork and told me very strictly that I had better not smoke in the car and I, of course, had managed to forget completely. It's a good thing I remembered before I lit up.

The night is cold but not unbearably so. I spend a long time there, leaning against the trunk of my car, cigarette in my hand but forgotten momentarily, staring up at the sky. There's so little light pollution out here that I can see what feels like all of the stars, practically, great scattered dustings of them sweeping across the whole of the night sky like someone had tossed them there. There's the Big Dipper, there's Orion, there's the Little Dipper... I think that bright one is Mars, maybe, it looks a little reddish. And that cluster there must be the Pleiades.

I take a breath and blow it out and realize exactly how tired I am. It's somewhere lurking in the back of my skull, right behind my eyes, coiled around my neck. If I closed my eyes I'd probably be able to fall asleep out here, right on the hood of the car.

I crack my neck and wince. The moon's bright and full tonight, at least, so I can still see the barren terrain all around me.

I consider the cigarette for a moment before I throw it to the ground and crush it out. I don't normally litter, really, I swear, but the exhaustion creeping over me is making me not care.

There's a long drainage ditch along the side of the road here, terminating in one of those white-concrete tunnels disappearing into the dirt, its mouth wide enough to swallow me whole if I felt like going down there. I stifle a yawn, kick a rock down into the ditch, and traipse around the side of the car, get in and start it up. From where I parked it, the headlights angle downward enough to reveal a sliced-pie cut of the inside of the tunnel and there, inside it, I see for only the briefest second a pale, wide-eyed face staring at me, along with a dark-jacketed body and a hand, curled there on the floor of the tunnel like a spider before, in a flash, the man retreats into the darkness deeper in the tunnel and is gone.

I can feel my heart beating out of my chest and I realize my mouth has dropped open. Real animal fear has seized me and my rational mind cannot jerk back the reins. I put the car into gear, fumbling first and sticking it in neutral, and then push the pedal all the way to the floor and roar off into the dark.

I was very lucky that there was no one trying to get to Mystery Flesh Pit that night, for I probably would have flipped the car trying to go around them. The closer I get to Gumption, the slower I drive, until finally I manage to get myself to stop the car just outside of town. I pull over again and get out, curling my lip at my shaking hands, and light up another cigarette.

It was just a homeless guy, hiding in a drainage ditch. I probably spooked the fuck out of him, pulling up right there on top of him and hanging out. He must be wondering what the fuck I was doing out there. Probably scared him more than he scared me.

Why did I wig out so bad anyway? I like to think I've got a pretty good nerve. Well, stress is a good excuse, I guess. Or perhaps it's because he was simply hiding down there, unknown, unnoticed, the whole time I was sitting there on the hood of the car, completely oblivious. He could have rushed out and attacked me, if he'd had the guts to, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it.

I take another drag at the cigarette and glare up at the stars again. Ursa Major, Orion, Pleiades. Sometimes, when it's quiet like this, I allow myself to think about what the coming year, or possibly years, if I'm lucky, will be like.

Whatever.

I crush the cigarette out and drive back into town, head back to my motel room. I feel better once I've showered and put on some shorts. I get into bed and pull the covers up, and even though they're the scratchy, weird-feeling covers used in seemingly every cheap motel in America, regardless of location, I drift off to sleep easily enough.

Continue with Part 2

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#writing #mystery flesh pit #writeblr #Michael Crichton #thriller #novel #alt lit

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

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chasing butterflies | jjk

you never meant to be a jock in school. the volleyball team had just needed people and you were there and then you had a knack for it. you just happened to be good at it and went with it. similar to how you saw jeon jungkook in your friend’s orientation group and thought he was absolutely radiant and just went with it. for two years. you’ve spent the entire time pining from afar, mostly because you always seem to make a fool of yourself when he’s around, but also because jungkook is part of that exclusive crowd, the ones that you never can seem to penetrate: the weebs. that is, until your friends get sick of your hopeless pining and decide to do something about it.

pairing | jeon jungkook x reader

genre/warnings | fluff, college au, coffee shop au, pining, somewhat idiots to lovers, jock!reader, nerd/weeb/otaku!kook, swimmer!kook, jock!jimin, kook smiles a lot, reader is a dumbass, jungkook is a dumbass, everyone’s a dumbass tbh, love confessions, profanity, like a lot of profanity, smut: oral (f receiving), face riding, grinding, hickies, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy before things get silly kids!), creampie, soft!kook except when horny, this is somewhat crack-y, there’s also a very fair amount of secondhand embarrassment in this just fair warning i cringed a lot while writing it

word count | 12.8k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | i busted literally all of this in one day because i couldn’t sleep and had the idea for a coffeeshop au with pining nerd/jock, but i didn’t want to do the trope of pining nerd and i also kept seeing @strawbxxymilk‘s tags saying she was going to fight jungkook, so you can partially blame her for his (love u reni xx) i’m honestly REALLY in love with this fic, it was so much fun to write and even edit, like i honestly have never been happier with how a fic turned out.

If asked, you don’t think you’d be able to point to one exact moment that led to this. You aren’t sure why anything about your college life has been the way it is. You went through almost all middle school and part of high school intending on coasting through under the radar. You didn’t have many friends and you didn’t mind that, citing quality over quantity, and you definitely expected that to continue into your extended school career.

Somehow, though, you ended up on the volleyball team - the captain had seen you playing in a gym class and recruited you. She was adamant that with practice and training, you’d be great, and also they needed at least one more person if they were going to have any chance at competing that year. So you agreed, started practicing, got good, and…kept doing it. You were a talented player, and you made several close friends through the game, ones that had lasted you until even now.

You only got better and better, too, earning you more than one offer from various universities. It was exciting when you finally chose one, and even more exciting that your friend group almost tripled overnight. University teams were large, you discovered, and while that meant more competition, it also meant more friends. More friends that had more connections to people on other teams, in other sports, who were also fun and extroverted and threw really good parties.

You like to think you’re still that little nobody from middle school. You enjoy your readings and your coursework, and a lot of nights you choose to stay behind in your shared apartment instead of going out. As much as you like to think that, though, you can’t help but face the truth every time you look in the mirror after practice or a game or a workout.

You’re a jock.

You don’t even know why. The labels were supposed to end when high school did, and yet here you were. You pretty much only hang out with other sporty people, since no one has much time to make friends with anyone they didn’t see five times a week and every other weekend. You have a strict workout regimen that you run through with other girls from the team. Your class schedule is built around your volleyball schedule. You call yourself an athlete. You get looks sometimes, from the smart kids who think they’re better because you’re ‘only’ an athlete and they’re not. It reminds you of the people who look down on other sports because theirs is the only ‘true’ sport. Those people used to piss you off, but you’ve grown used to them now; there would always be people who thought they were better because of some imagined divide.

Realistically, there is no divide. People are free to associate with whoever they want, fuck the social norms that become ingrained in high school to contrast class differences. Okay, your Societal Influences class may have skewed your thinking a bit, but your point stands. You had no good reason to conform to the antiquated ideas of high schoolers.

So why, why, are you still standing by a waffle maker and staring helplessly at him?

Jisoo nudges you and you move to let her at the waffle, not looking away from him. She follows your line of sight and laughs when she sees him. “Seriously?” She asks, shaking her head.

“Shut up,” You groan, popping part of a roll into your mouth.

“It’s been almost three years,” She teases. “How have you not worked up the nerve to talk to him?”

“Two years, three months,” You correct as you follow her to where the chocolate syrup and fruit await for her waffle monstrosity. You can’t even look at it anymore, sickened by the mere sight of all the sugar stacked atop it.

“That is not helping your case the way you think it is.”

“I can’t just…talk to him, he’s gonna think I’m weird. Who just walks up to someone and says ‘hi, I saw you in my friend’s orientation group two years ago and thought you were the most beautiful man in existence, and still think that in fact, would you mind going out with me?’” Jisoo levels you with a look that could make cacti wilt.

“Uh, plenty of people do that every day. That’s how relationships happen. I know you’ve got this big hard-on for this whole…pining, lovesick idiot look,” She barrels on, ignoring the squawk of defiance you let loose, “But it’s getting kind of hopeless. That one guy asked you out, like, last month, and you literally laughed at him.”

“In my defense, he was like way older than us! I don’t want to go out with a grandpa!”

“I cannot believe you just called Kim Seokjin a grandpa, the entire team is going to revolt against you for this.”

You huff and lead her to the table you picked out, which she very kindly does not mention gives you a perfect view of him while you pick at your food. She continues to rant at you about your hopeless crush, but you don’t even hear her anymore, because he’s laughing at something across the dining hall and it makes your chest tighten.

God damn, you don’t know how in the hell someone so fucking nerdy can make you so fucking weak in the knees.

Across the room, Jungkook adjusts the round lenses that have been sliding down his nose, and it makes your heart flutter. He laughs again at something someone beside him said. His nose scrunches as he does it, and the cute bunny teeth are obvious, and it makes you want to die a little inside but also throw him off a bridge a little bit. He starts talking, animated and excited, and you wonder what it is he’s talking about. You can almost pretend that he’s talking about you for a second, until he pulls something out of his bag and sets it on the table, covering it with his hands before pulling them back in a dramatic effort to reveal–

God, it’s a fucking Hatsune Miku figurine.

You feel like sobbing at the sight. “God, he’s such a fucking weeb,” You say, hatred for yourself rolling off the words in absolute waves. Jisoo huffs, probably annoyed that you haven’t been listening to her rant, and waves a hand.

“You knew this,” She tells you bluntly. The issue is that she’s 100% correct; the first time you ever remember seeing Jungkook, he was in a God damn Naruto cosplay, dumbass wig in his hands while he adjusted his ninja headband, and he was still the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid your eyes on.

His eyes dart over like he could hear your thoughts and he makes eye contact; you get whiplash, you look away so fast. Your face is burning, you can feel it, and you’re actually in danger of staring a hole into the table with how hard you’re looking at it.

“You’re safe, he isn’t looking anymore,” Jisoo eventually says. You chance a glance to see that Jungkook is focused on whatever conversation he’s having, Hatsune Miku nowhere to be seen and replaced with a very pretty red flush across his cheeks. You audibly coo over the sight and Jisoo pretends to gag.

“Don’t you have class?” She says. It’s obviously an attempt to distract you, she’s always so transparent about those things. Jungkook looks over again and suddenly your phone becomes the most fascinating thing in the entire world. You balk at the time, because fuck, you really do have class in two minutes.

“Bye Jisoo, love you, don’t gorge yourself on waffles, or Rose will kill you at practice!” You shout over your shoulder as you bolt from the dining hall.

You don’t see nor feel the eyes on your back as you go, too focused on making the five-minute walk into a sixty-second sprint.

Work is boring. It always is. You work the overnight shift, 9 pm to 4 am, so that you can balance your volleyball schedule and your classes and your bills. If there were less 24-hour coffee shops around, it may be busier, but alas, the trend of having spaces for haggard and exhausted college students to roll into at all hours of the day had caught on, and thus, you work at one of four all-night coffee shops. And that’s only on this side of campus. There were even more on the other side, where the dorms were, and they see much more traffic than yours. Kids never want to go very far to get caffeine, so the ones across the way were always bustling and packed full of people writing last-minute papers and emailing for sources and who knows what else.

Which meant that only the stray customer wandered in after dark, usually people getting off work and wanting to unwind for a second before heading home. You got a lot of homeless people, camping out in corners away from other people and sipping on one coffee for hours at a time. Some of the other workers complained about them, but you didn’t really care one way or another. If it kept them off the street and out of the cold, then you’d let them sit there as long as you could. It wasn’t like there were many people around to complain, anyway.

Of course, the few customers meant that there were fewer interruptions to the daily tasks you had to do, so it only takes an hour or two, max, every night to get everything clean, stocked, polished, and counted. Which left another five for you to fill.

You sigh, staring at a blank page of your notebook. You’re lucky your boss doesn’t care if the workers do schoolwork on the job, so long as the work gets done and the customers are happy, but just this once you curse him for being so kind. You’ve been procrastinating this essay for a week and it was due next class, but you had absolutely no idea where to even start. You sigh again and straighten as the bell over the door rings, the customary 'Welcome to Brew’d Awakening, what can I get for you today?’ already halfway out before you actually look up.

You choke on air as Jungkook smiles at you, small and shy and sweet, and you can actually feel part of your soul shrivel up and die along with every single one of your brain cells. You stare at him for a solid six seconds as he peruses the menu hanging above your head, and you’re so focused on memorizing the way he looks this close up that you nearly miss his order.

“A large iced black, please?” He phrases it like a question and it’s adorable, despite the countless times you’ve bitched to Jisoo about people doing the exact same thing in the past. You tack on your customer service smile as best you can and ring him up.

It’s a relief to turn away from him to actually make his drink. He’s gorgeous, even with the dumbass hoodie with some naked anatomy model on it that has to be from some anime, that it makes it hard for you to breathe. He’s not even wearing the nerd glasses and it just makes his eyes so much more obviously beautiful, and you know Jisoo is going to whine about hearing you wax poetic over them for weeks after this. Your hands shake as you pour the coffee into the cup and click the lid into place, but you force yourself to steady them as you hand it to him.

He’s blushing again, and you want to kiss it so badly, and he waves. “Thanks,” He says as he starts to leave. Your brain is torn between responses, one half reverting to your generic response and the other wanting to assure it him it was absolutely not anything he needed to thank you for, and you can feel the stupidity coming, but you cannot stop the words as they claw up your throat and you nearly shout–

“Your problem!”

He falters in his steps, turning to give you a confused look, and you’re honestly disappointed the earth doesn’t quake and part to drag you directly to the pits of hell, because even that would be less painful than having to maintain your professional demeanor like you didn’t just say the absolute stupidest thing you’ve ever said in your entire fucking life.

Jungkook just nods and strides out of the coffee shop, bell dinging in his wake.

The screech you unleash in the break room a few seconds later is inhuman and chilling, and yet Rose doesn’t seem at all fazed.

“I would say you should just talk to him, but clearly you can’t even do that like a normal person.” She pats your arm as you bang your head into the table, and you consider the option of getting new friends.

You’re no stranger to wild Jungkook sightings. You both go to the same university, you both have similar classes, you both take full advantage of the dining hall at every opportunity, you both use the library. It’s hard to go ten feet on campus without seeing someone you know, and it’s even harder when you’re actively looking for that person everywhere you go.

So you’ve already seen him a couple of times after the Your Problem Incident - and you may have turned around and completely avoided even thinking about it, but who’s going to judge you for that, really - when you walk into an extra-credit lecture for one of your science classes to immediately zero in on the familiar grin.

You’d foolishly believed this would be a popular lecture and as such would be held in one of the big lecture halls, the ones that seat 100+ people, but no. Of course not. This was in a regular ass classroom, with regular tables and regular students and regular everything, including the dumbass that regularly stars in every single one of your daydreams. The impulse to turn and run jolts through you, but before you can do exactly that, Nayun is calling your name and waving you over to the seat she saved just for you.

Right in front of him.

Several people turn at her call, but you focus your gaze on the chair and refuse to look to see if he’s looking at you. You refuse, you will not be that girl, you have standards, dammit, and grades to keep up, and immense public humiliation to pretend never happened.

You have to pass him to sit at your chair since Satan himself designed the classroom and put the door at the back of the room, as only a literal demon would do. You focus on not falling flat on your face, as you’ve been prone to do when Jungkook is in your range of vision, and as such you’re wholly unprepared for the way his scent floods through your brain.

You’re able to sit before you collapse entirely, legs shaking because he smells so fucking good. You’ve become accustomed to the boys’ volleyball team, who’re known for always wanting to hang out right after practices but not ever wanting to shower after practices. You’ve been friends with guys before. You are very close with several of the guys on the volleyball team. You’ve been around college dudes for three entire years. You know how guys smell, you know they all tend to get wrapped up in whatever boys think about and neglect their own hygiene unless gently reminded that no, Taehyung, girls do not like it when a guy is sweaty.

Apparently, one dude didn’t get the memo, because Jungkook smells like fucking heaven. Clean linens and summer flowers and rainstorms, with a lingering and faint whisper of chlorine that shoves you into the nostalgia of high school summers at the pool with your friends. It’s glorious and wonderful and you’ve never been close enough to smell him before, which you also never thought would ever go through your brain.

You wish you could say you’ve never thought of how he might smell, you really do. But the truth is you are a girl in love, with an overactive imagination and a lot of time spent not writing essays. You’ve imagined a lot of things. And yet. Even in your wildest daydreams, there is no possible way you ever could have expected it to floor you the way it did.

Nayun is saying something and you’re nodding along, but she could be telling you the secret to life itself and you would never know. You’re too focused on him. You can’t look at him - a blessing and a curse, because now you may be able to pay attention to the lecture, but you’ll also be too distracted to think about anything but if he’s looking at you - but you can hear him. You’ve heard him speak before, you’ve built up somewhat of a resistance to his voice and the way it slides along the air, which is such a sappy romantic thing to think but here you fucking are.

You have not, however, heard him speak for such a long period of time about the continuity errors in Boku No Hero Academia. You don’t even know what the fuck that is, never heard the phrase in your entire life, but he’s so passionate about it that you can’t help but listen. He’s making all sorts of points and giving all kinds of examples and you want to nod along just to encourage him. For all you know he could be wrong about every single instance he mentions but fuck, he just sounds so sure of himself and so absolute that it has you wanting to agree.

The sheer confidence in what he’s saying has you getting weak in the knees. He’s such an absolute fucking weeb, and yet it’s always been so sexy to you when someone knows their shit and can prove it. You could have gone your entire life without knowing that that particular kink extended to fucking anime.

The professor walks in shortly after and you are blessedly saved from more of Jungkook’s rants about anime inconsistencies. You’re impossibly wet and you curse yourself for the millionth time for somehow falling for the biggest dork the planet has possibly ever seen. You focus all of your attention on the lecture, doing your best to take notes even as you find yourself doodling the best (read: atrocious) representations of Jungkook in the margins of your notebook.

You groan on the way out. You’d spent the full hour and a half taking sporadic notes between doodles of Jungkook as a prince. You still couldn’t decide if you were imagining the feeling of someone watching you, either. Nayun just laughs and leads you to the dining hall for dinner before you both had to head to practice.

You are blessedly free of Jungkook for exactly four days. It is, in fact, a new record, since the first time you saw him.

It’s turned your life into a hellscape and you hate it.

You look for him around every corner and past every door, and more than once you’ve caught yourself expecting him to walk through the door at the coffee shop for absolutely no reason. You’ve only ever seen him there the one time. There was literally no reason to expect him to show up ever again, and yet each time someone walked in, you responded as if it was the 1500s and the king himself had entered the building.

If you’re being honest, though, your biggest issue with not seeing Jungkook’s dumb ass for four entire days is that it is just long enough for you to start to expect not to see him. It’s just enough time for you to get so accustomed to not seeing him around that you stop turning corners and looking for him immediately. You don’t immediately think 'this is it’ when the bell above the shop door rings. It takes a second to kick in, a delayed response that is still habit but one on its way out.

You miss him, that is definite. You find yourself wishing that he would show up out of the blue one day, spouting some nonsense, just for the sake of hearing it again. His rants about which Bleach character would actually win a fight because 'well, according to the manga,’ his tirades about how the revamp of Voltron is nowhere near as genuine as the original and is clearly pandering, you just…miss it. You never understand a goddamn thing he’s saying but it’s so fucking attractive. He’s so passionate about all of it and he’s so knowledgeable that even the discussion you overheard in the library about the top ten most powerful moves in the entirety of YuYuHakusho had you dripping and running for your apartment, and you miss that.

At this point, though, you should know the universe fucking hates you.

It’s late, close to 2 am, you haven’t slept in too long because you had an away game that afternoon that you lost on a fucking bullshit call and then had to stay to watch the boys’ team play. They, of course, crushed their opponents, which you were proud of, but it only made your defeat that much more bitter. You were still pissed about it when you rolled into work that night, Rose lagging behind to talk to the coach and Jimin glowing beside you with how well his team had done.

You’re tired, you’re pissed, you’re starving, you have a test in six hours that you haven’t studied for, the cafe is mercilessly dead, there’s a guy in the corner building an actual literal scale model of a castle, and all you can think about is the bullshit ref insisting that the ball touched Jisoo’s elbow after she made contact and completely fucking over the last serve of the game in favor of your opponents.

Jimin, the light of your life and angel among men, had gotten your food before your break. It isn’t fancy, two quick drive-thru burgers with fries and a drink, but it may as well be the nectar of the gods with the way you’re inhaling it. The angel and future father of your immaculate conception babies sits on one of the stools against the counter, chin in his hand as he watches you eat. He looks torn between horror and fascination and you can’t blame him for it. It must be a sight to behold: you, behind the shop counter, elbows planted for maximum efficiency, mouth stuffed full of French fries, ripping viciously into a burger as you continue to go off about the bullshit that was your match that day.

Really, you wouldn’t be this mad any other day. But the combination of so many shitty things - hunger, exhaustion, stress, frustration, not having seen the love of your life Jeon Jungkook in y e a r s - has you absolutely livid. You’re well past the end of your break by now, but Rose knows all too well how you are and is graciously letting you vent until you’re less ready to rip the head off the next person that comes in the door.

You express the sentiment to Jimin, who laughs, the fucker, and fail to realize that someone has, actually, just walked into the coffee shop. You’re halfway through your sentence - “I swear to God, Park, if I see that fucking ref again, I’m gonna rip his balls off and shove them so far up his ass that he starts to digest them, what kind of bullshit even was that, her elbow was nowhere near the ball, that foul never would’ve stood if we had been on our court,” - when it registers that Rose is taking an order. You glance over, out of habit more than anything, and proceed to attempt to inhale the food crammed into your mouth as you gasp.

Of course, of fucking course, Jungkook would show up while you’re like this. Your hair is a mess, still damp from the post-game shower, you’ve got some kind of stain on your shirt from the food that’s absolutely smashed into your mouth, and you’ve just been basically shouting expletives all over your workplace, which he definitely heard. It’s made worse because he’s staring at you, eyes wide behind his stupid round glasses, and his striped shirt with fucking ridiculous overalls. You’re torn between planting one on him since he looks so fucking cute and bewildered, decking him straight in the face because where the fuck has he been, and just bolting straight out of the shop because the guy you’ve liked for two fucking years witnessed all of that and you want to die.

You stare at him and he stares at you, looking as shocked as you feel. Jimin is just looking between the two of you, a shit-eating grin overtaking his face as he starts to connect dots you never ever wanted him to connect, because-

“Jungkook-ah, I didn’t know you came here!” Jimin says, grinning at the younger boy and one of his very best friends. He’s got a glint in his eye that you recognize and you contemplate not for the first time if you could actually impale him with a coffee stirrer.

“Oh, yeah, well…” Jungkook stutters and you hate that it’s so cute. “The others close to my dorm are all really busy at this time of night, y'know, so I like to get coffee on this side of campus so it’s still coffee and not watered down when I get back to my dorm.”

“Why don’t you just drink it here?” Jimin asks as he stirs his own coffee that had long since gone cold, as if he had every right in the world to offer up your coffee shop to a literal God among men. “It’s quiet, you could probably get more work done here than in your dorm. I remember you said your neighbors have been keeping you up.”

Jungkook turns red and looks away. Rose takes the opportunity to slide his iced coffee across to him and he takes it with a smile that makes your heart melt. You watch the exchange with more focus than you probably should, and the food is forgotten in lieu of your future husband right there in front of you for the first time in days.

“I guess I could,” Jungkook eventually says, eyes darting all over. They rest on you every few minutes before quickly flying away, and it makes you even more self-conscious of the stain on your shirt and the way grease has no doubt pooled around your mouth. You grab a napkin to try to clean yourself up as Jungkook continues. “I just don’t know if I could focus here, y'know, there’re a lot of…distractions.”

The silence that follows the statement is deafening, only broken by the quiet huffs of the guy building a castle in the corner.

Jungkook turns even redder and ruffles the back of his hair. It’s impossibly cute and you’re halfway to offering to ruffle it for him, either between his sheets or in the alley out back, when Jimin cuts you off.

“Well, you should consider it, at least. I always have the best times here, even with all the distractions.” Jimin sips at his coffee as he speaks and you get the very distinct sense that he’s teasing Jungkook about something you don’t know. The younger boy just smiles and gives a quick bye to Jimin and Rose. You like to think his smile softens as he looks at you, and the way he says your name as he waves will forever be embedded into your mind.

He’s gone before you can respond and you’re glad, sure you must be at least as red as the strawberry syrup. Jimin whirls on you the second Jungkook is out of sight, Rose doing her best to pretend she isn’t mortified for you.

“I cannot believe that you didn’t tell me - me - that the guy you’ve been pining after all these years is Jungkook.” Jimin sounds scandalized and betrayed and his face just makes you think of- “Top Ten Anime Betrayals, really.”

“Fuck, this is exactly why I didn’t want you to know! I used his codename for a reason.” You whine, dropping your head to the countertop with a resounding thud.

“Oh, yes, because Dumb DumbDook is oh-so-subtle,” Rose mutters. You ignore her.

“I could have been doing wingman work this whole time, though! Imagine how much further along you’d be if I’d been able to hype you up every time I hang out with him. You’d be able to talk to him, five words at least.” You smack Rose when she laughs.

“No, absolutely not. There’s no way it’s gonna happen, Jimin, I can’t set myself up for that failure.” You shake your head and go back to your food, though you’re much less angry after seeing your weeb. “Besides, we’ve got like…nothing in common, what would we even talk about?”

“Are you serious?” The deadpan is what catches your attention, and when you glance up, the look Jimin is giving is scathing. “I’ve heard you gush about his nerd rants, alright, you said yourself you could listen to him talk for weeks without getting bored of hearing his voice.”

“Conversations are a two-way street, Jimin. What the fuck could I contribute to that?”

“Uh…you’re kidding me, right? You didn’t see that face he made while you were doing your whole 'I’m gonna shit talk the ref because he made a call I didn’t like’ thing.”

“It was bullshit and you know it, he never would’ve done that shit for the other side.”

“Point stands, dude. Kook could listen to you go off about your sports shit for just as long as you could with his anime shit. I’d put money on it.”

“You’re delusional, Park, but I’m gonna let you live in this fantasy world because it’s nice to have company here.” He scoffs but doesn’t press the topic, which you’re thankful for. Instead, you fish your study guide out of your bag and hand it to him so he can quiz you about the test you have in four hours.

It seems that Jungkook takes Jimin’s word as law because he starts to show up more and more often. At first, it was just the coffee shop, where he would order his iced black and then leave with a shy smile that had you melting. Then he was at the library at the same time you were, one table over and typing furiously away at his laptop. You assumed it was for a class until he disappeared and returned with a printed copy and you caught the “Neon Genesis Evangelion: A New Order, Chapter Five” at the top.

You won’t lie, you did judge him just a bit for that because you don’t even know anything about the show but no way in hell would you be caught dead printing your fanfic on wireless school computers when cloud hacks are a thing.

He appears at your favorite takeout place, too; not that he saw you since you dove behind a fish tank to avoid getting caught. You’d watched carefully through the water as he waited, looking around in the meantime as if in search of something. He almost looked dejected when he left, though you didn’t know why until you got your food and found out they were out of crab rangoon like you hadn’t just been playing peekaboo with one in the fish tank for twenty minutes.

The thing that really gets you, though, the one that grinds your gears, is how he makes the coffee shop his thing. He just keeps showing up, night after night, and while at first he just left with his coffee, he apparently decided that wasn’t enough, because now he stays. He parks himself at the corner table near the outlet and taps away at his laptop while you try to do any semblance of work. He’s so distracting. He makes the most adorable faces - the brow furrow and slight frown when he’s focused and trying to figure something out, the clenched jaw with tongue in cheek when he’s irritated or frustrated, the cute ass bunny smile that makes you want to jump off a bridge and/or push him off a bridge.

Honestly, if you’re being truthful, you could’ve gotten used to that. He’s quiet and doesn’t talk much and even though you can feel him nearby like a sunflower to the sun, you could’ve managed eventually.

The issue is that his nerd friends start joining him, and they are not quiet. They are loud and argumentative and enjoy debating their dweeb things and they especially enjoy dragging Jungkook into said dweebates, if you will. Which in and of itself is not terrible. You’ve had a literal debate team in here practicing, you’re accustomed to that kind of thing.

No, the issue is that Jungkook is like the king weeb. He seems to know everything about everything complete with sources to back it up and even if he doesn’t know something he can either find out in ten seconds or he can bullshit his way to being right. And it’s so goddamn sexy. He just fucking…owns the other nerds, no matter what the subject is, and he’s so confident and sure and he gets sassy with them when he knows he’s right and they’re wrong. The body language, the expression on his face, the way he just stomps them into the dirt…it gets you hot and bothered every fucking time, and it’s a problem, because you’re at work. It is not socially acceptable to kidnap someone into the break room to fuck their brains out because they just won an argument about whether Yu Gi Oh or Pokemon was a more successful trading card game.

It’s made even even worse because Jungkook has started to pay attention to your rants. Every time you have a game or watch one with the team, you and Rose spend at least part of your shift talking about the ups and downs, what can be improved, what you specifically need to work on and how you can do it. One night the two of you spent upwards of an hour debating whether Lang Ping or Mireya was a better overall player and why, and when you finally stopped to restock the coffee beans, Jungkook was staring at you with a look in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

Of course, that was when you turned and hid in the storage room for the rest of your shift, but the point fucking stands.

Jeon Jungkook is a menace and he is taking over your life and you really should be more mad about it. It almost comes to a head when Jimin drags you to a swim meet, which you have attended exactly zero times in your entire life because who the fuck cares about swim meets.

“Trust me,” He had pleaded. “I want to go to support some friends, but I’m gonna be bored if I have to sit alone on the bleachers.” You’d eventually caved when he promised to buy you food, and now your ass was planted on the most uncomfortable stand seats you’ve ever been on and you were about to pop a blood vessel because Jimin was being so fucking infuriating about everything. He’d pulled you straight from practice, not letting you change or shower or anything, and he’d been trying to goad you into a debate the entire time you’d been waiting for the meet to start. It was legitimately starting to get you riled up, even as you stretched your legs out, thighs spread wide as your fingers massaged the muscles in your familiar post-game routine.

“For the last fucking time, Jimin, no, the Canada/Mexico save was not better than the fucking Italy/France save!” He rolls his eyes, but he opened this can of worms so now he has to suffer with you. “It was flashier, sure, with the sliding and the moving of the barriers, but the Italy/France save was more technically sound and less likely to result in any kind of ref interference. They were both good, sure, but there is no way you can truly believe that the flashier and less technically sound and less safe of the two is actually better.”

“Oh, your boyfriend’s waving,” Jimin says as he smiles and waves, eyes turning into crescents as he does.

“What? I don’t have a-” You stop when you look. You really should have expected this because life is a cruel mistress and the universe itself is even crueler, but here you were. Rendered speechless by the sight of Jungkook. In swim pants. Shirtless.

“You’re drooling,” Jimin comments dryly.

“Fuck off, it’s not my fault he’s sculpted by the gods.” You don’t even bother to look at Jimin, too focused on the way Jungkook’s back flexes as he pulls himself out of the water. Time legitimately slows, water falling off of him and trailing down abs you did not know were there, and your heart honest to God stops beating. “What the fuck is he even doing here?”

“He’s on the swim team,” Jimin smirks and calls Jungkook over before you can shove your hand over his mouth. “Kook-ah, good luck! You’re gonna do great!”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook says with an excited grin as he jogs over. You don’t think you take a single breath in the five minutes they chat. Your chest may actually explode, and you’re tempted to dive into the pool not two feet away to cool off. Jungkook steps back like he’s going to leave, giving you a small smile as he does.

“Wait, Jungkook, remind me, how did you get into swimming? Someone was curious,” Jimin nods ever so subtly to you but you can’t even find the strength to be upset because Jungkook’s chest is right there and you want to run your tongue along his muscles.

“Oh, there’s actually this anime called Free! I don’t know if you’ve heard of it, it’s really good, but it’s about these swimmers. They complete and a lot of it is them learning how to get better at their techniques so I thought, 'well, that can’t be that hard can it?’“ You let out a quiet sob. He’s just…you clench your fist in your lap and sigh. He’s just such a fucking nerd. Jungkook shoots you a somewhat worried look but continues. “It’s how I learned archery and boxing, too. I saw them in manga and got really interested and figured if the characters can do it, why can’t I?”

“God, that’s so fucking nerdy,” You mutter. It doesn’t register that you spoke out loud until you see Jungkook’s reddening face and hear Jimin’s soft choke. “In a good way! I mean, I think it’s…it’s really awesome that you just saw it and did it, that’s really…” Don’t say sexy. “…cool.”

Jungkook stares at you, cheeks reddened, and you struggle not to start digging your own grave here and now in the middle of this indoor pool area. You’re about to stand and do exactly that when Jungkook’s face brightens and his nose crinkles and the most blinding grin you’ve ever seen in your life takes over his face as his shoulders bunch up. Your eyes are probably actual fucking hearts now, it’s easily the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen on a human male as tall and buff as he is, and it kind of makes you want to shove him in the pool.

You really don’t have to, though, because he just shakes his head and turns to go back to the swimmer’s benches or whatever they’re called in swimming. He’s ruffling the back of his hair again and watching the ground, but he keeps turning back to beam at you and Jimin. You see it before Jimin does, and both of you start to call for him when his heel slips and he falls completely back into the water.

Every face in the area turns to look at where Jungkook is surfacing, wiping his face and slicking his hair back out of his face. The sight of it nearly sends you into heart palpitations because you honestly didn’t think he could get more fucking attractive but you were wrong. You force yourself to calm down because Jimin is too busy rolling on the ground beside you to be of any use in resuscitating you if your heart actually gave out.

“Ah, nani,” You hear Jungkook mutter as he climbs out of the pool and you wish you had a brick to hit yourself with because of course, of fucking course, he looks so fucking good and is so fucking bone-meltingly hot and still says weeb shit like ‘ah, nani’ when he falls into a goddamn pool.

You’re honestly legitimately fucked and the fact that you don’t even care anymore says a lot more about you than you want it to.

It all actually comes to a head nearly a week after the swim meet. The sight of a wet and dripping and half-naked Jungkook doesn’t leave your mind, forever burned into your retinas, but even more wonderful is the shy, bashful Jungkook that greets you the next day at the coffee shop. It’s almost like he thinks you’re going to tease him, as if he didn’t see you shoving your whole mouth full of junk while cursing out a ref, as if he didn’t fully hear you tell him ‘your problem!’ with a happy grin and death in your eyes the first time he came into the shop.

It’s just…it’s so fucking cute that you physically cannot contain it anymore, and you find yourself bemoaning your state of perpetual adoration with Jisoo and Rose while you all shower after the latest match.

“I’m just going to suffer for the rest of my life aren’t I?” You say, speaking louder than you typically would in order to be heard over the several showerheads currently running. “It’s too much for my heart to take, absolutely too much, he’s too fucking…ugh, clenches fist, he’s too fucking cute.”

“Did you just verbalize the ‘clenches fist’ meme?” Rose shoots from her own stall. You shoot a face at the wall separating you, not that she can see it. “Listen, you know how I feel about this. You need to make a move because that boy never will. He’s a mess.”

“Wow, who else do we know that’s also a mess at all times for the guy they’ve liked for years?” Jisoo comments from her own shower across the way. You groan and kick your stall door, which only results in a muffled curse and you cradling your toe as you balance precariously on one foot.

“Do not injure yourself, we have a tournament next weekend,” Rose says offhandedly. You huff.

“Why would I even make a move? He’s got…Hatsune Miku and anime girls and shit.”

“Oh, of course,” Rose says. “I forgot, every guy would willingly give up a gorgeous, real-life girl willing to fuck him senseless for a pretty cartoon. Silly me.”

“What I don’t get,” Nayun calls from the locker room proper. “Is why you think he isn’t interested. He gets a chub every time he so much as looks at you, and don’t think Jimin didn’t tell me about the swim meet. The boy fell into a pool.”

“Yeah, because he’s a goddamn idiot.” You shake your head and wash the conditioner from your hair.

“What if we dare you to do it?” Rose’s voice echoes from too close. You turn and see her silhouette against the plastic shower curtain. She takes your confused silence as permission to continue. “Seriously, if we dare you to ask him out, will you?”

“What the fuck,” You say, sticking your head out of the curtain to level a glare at her. “I’m not ten years old, why the fuck would I do something just because you dare me to?”

“Bet, then,” Jisoo says as she wraps her hair in a towel. Your eyes must be wide as saucers because she laughs. “Bet on it. If the boys lose this game, you have to ask him out.”

“No no,” Rose says, and a familiar and all-too-dangerous grin spreads on her face. “If the boys lose this game, you have to confess. Do the gift and the letter and the whole fucking anime thing for him. If they win, we’ll drop it, and listen to your moaning and groaning for the rest of forever without complaint or comment.” Jisoo and Nayun look much too excited at the prospect, but you’ve been watching the boys play all season.

“What kind of bet is that? The boys haven’t lost a game all season.”

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?” Rose says, grinning as she saunters over to put her street clothes on. “Five minutes before game start.” You curse and rush to finish your shower, determined not to run laps for being late again.

As fate would have it, you do have reason to worry, because apparently, the rival university recruited some fucking professional athlete super mutants or some shit. It’s a close game, the boys only losing by one, but with the level of skill they’ve been playing with all season, it should’ve been an easy win.

And yet.

You’re standing outside the boys’ locker room, waiting patiently for Jimin. It’s a routine you got into when you first met, just after you’d both joined the respective teams. He would wait for you and you would wait for him, as long as it took, especially after a loss. You’re still in shock, still reeling from the game itself. You would almost think Jimin had found out about the bet and thrown the game, just to get you to shut the fuck up about Jungkook, if you didn’t know him.

If you didn’t see the dedication he put into the game, the perfection he expected of himself and his team. It rivals even Rose’s, and you can hear him yelling from where you stand, slamming what is probably his fist into a locker several times before he falls silent. As much as you had riding on this game, as pissed as you are that you lost the bet, you know it’s minuscule in comparison to the way Jimin feels, and you can’t even summon up enough energy to fool yourself otherwise. You’ve known him too long.

When he finally does emerge, you help wrap his knuckles with a clean bandage and ruffle his hair. “It’ll be alright, Park,” You tell him, quiet. He doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you sling your arm around his shoulder to lead him to your car. He’s quiet the rest of the night, even as you eat shitty fast food burgers in your car, even as he sits at the counter at the coffee shop, textbook open in front of him but not reading it.

“So I bet the girls that I would do an anime confession for Jungkook if you lost, you wanna help me plan it?” You ask him towards the end of your shift, long after said dork is gone from the shop. It’s the only time you see Jimin smile all night, but it’s worth it for the way his eyes crinkle and he starts outlining ideas.

“Did you even sleep last night?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Jimin responds as he chugs the rest of his coffee. Calling it coffee is generous, if you’re honest because it smells like he put twenty espresso shots in a cup and added some sugar. You force back a gag and shudder at the thought. “Everything’s in place?”

“This isn’t a bank heist, Jimin, I’m giving him a fucking box and a letter.” Even behind sunglasses you can tell the look he’s giving you is withering. “Whatever, yes, everything’s in place.”

“Good. Target sighted. Commence mission.”

You huff, grumbling as you move forward to the door. Of the cafe. Where you work. Where Jungkook is sitting, surrounded by his dork friends and heatedly arguing about something you no doubt have no clue about. Looking absolutely delectable, despite just being in a regular ass fucking jacket and a beanie that almost matches his skin and his hair looks so soft that you want to rub your face in it and also maybe bury your fingers in it while he’s between your legs.

You open the door and are immediately hit with the sound of Rose choking on her drink, the sudden conversation about which dps character is better - what the fuck that means, you don’t know - screeching to a halt, and every single person in the shop staring at you. Which is only like three people that aren’t Rose, Jungkook, Jimin, or the six people around Jungkook, but still. You force yourself not to throw up and move, cursing the itchy and uncomfortable dress the entire way.

Really, it was Jimin’s fault. You’d been brainstorming ways to confess and how to make it so perfectly Jungkook that he at least had to respond. He’d been the one to suggest dressing up as Hatsune Miku, which you, of course, nixed immediately. You weren’t about to spend who knows how much on a fucking wig and costume of one of the most popular cartoon characters of the modern age, not when you were only going to use it one fucking time.

So here you fucking are, dressed up like god damn Haruhi Fujioka, in an itchy yellow dress that doesn’t move where it should and feels like fucking sandpaper against your skin, that Jimin just happened to have on hand, like that wasn’t super fucking weird, and now everyone at your place of employment is staring at you and the small white box in your hands with a little pink envelope on top of it and you can hear Rose’s muffled laughter as you step further into the shop.

You stare at the ground as you walk, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. It doesn’t take more than a few steps before you’re staring down at Jungkook’s Timbs. You take a deep breath, and then another, and then another before you look up. He’s openly gawking, jaw nearly on the floor as he looks you up and down. Not a single soul is making a noise in the shop, so your voice rings out loud clear as you say–

“My chest hurts when I think about this person. When this person is happy, I am happy. When he smiles, I feel like crying. I distinguish his voice better than other people’s. I think this person is respectable. I want to become this person’s strength. I have scored more than 80 points, and it’s official. I-” You stop, cursing the fact that you’re doing this at three in the fucking morning on your day off in your workplace all because of a fucking bet and the fact that you couldn’t shut up about Jungkook’s stupid fucking face for more than two minutes without being in danger of combustion. “I like him, and I hope that he feels the same.”

You shove the white box into his hands and turn on your heel. Without looking back, you march out the door, grabbing Jimin on the way even as Jungkook calls after you. You keep going, walking quicker than you ever have to get to your apartment as fast as possible. Jimin just laughs as he follows you.

“I can’t believe you actually did it, holy shit. I hope he likes the chocolates, you worked really hard on them.”

“This is going to end up on the internet, I just know it, and I’m stating right now that this was not how I ever wanted to fucking tell him.” Jimin laughs again and hands you the coffee Rose had made you. When you finally make it back to your apartment, he helps you take the dress off and gets the pint of ice cream out of the freezer so you can wallow in peace.

“You don’t even know what he’s going to say,” Jimin protests, though he heaps his own spoon with ice cream in the process.

“I walked up to him in a jank cosplay of a shojo manga character and confessed my fucking love for him, Jimin.” He balks at the look you give him. “I don’t care how much of an otaku he is, he’s gonna think I’m fucking weird.”

“Well, don’t count yourself out just yet, alright?” Jimin ruffles your hair and you swat at him. “You never know. Maybe he’s really into Ouran and you just don’t know it.” You groan and bury your face in a pillow in an attempt to smother yourself. It doesn’t work.

It still hasn’t worked the next day when you wake up around noon to find Jimin gone and your dishes done for you. You grumble about it since you had every intention of doing your own dishes, but you send him a quick ‘thanks for washing my grime bitch’ because no matter how capable you are, you never want to do them.

It’s later that night when you’re fresh out of the shower and getting ready to head to your practice except for the fact that you can’t find your fucking keys that there’s a knock on your door. You open it without looking and dive back into the couch, bent nearly in half while you dig through the cushions. “Hey, Nayun, I’m almost ready, I just have to find my keys. I think Jimin threw them somewhere last night, after that fucking debacle at the shop-” A choked noise that definitely does not sound like Nayun reaches your eyes and you bolt upright, eyes wide.

Jungkook stands in the doorway to your apartment, wide eyes darting up from where he most definitely was staring at your ass and his face bright red. “Jimin gave me your address. Um…can we talk?”

You really want to say no. You want to tell him that no, you can’t, because you have volleyball practice, as he can tell from your uniform, and you absolutely cannot be late because Rose will literally use your entrails to make a new net.

Instead what comes out is, “Sure!”

You wave him in and close the door behind him, shooting off a quick text to Rose to let her know you might be late or may not show up at all, you’re not really sure because motherfucking Jeon Jungkook just showed up at your door. All you get back is a string of the cry-laughing emojis, and you curse whatever deity decided she should walk this earth with mortals.

“So,” Jungkook says. It’s long and drawn out, like he doesn’t really know where to go from here, but you’re distracted because he looks so good. Matching grey hoodie and sweats that are just the right side of baggy, standard Timbs, hair pushed to the side slightly to show off a bit of forehead. God, what is the world coming to that you’re this worked up over some fucking forehead?

“So,” You echo.

“Did you mean those things you said yesterday?” You hesitate and he takes it as an answer in itself. “Listen, I…I get it, y’know? You’re this super cool volleyball star, and I’m a big nerd who swims, haha, let’s tease the kid about his crush, but…it didn’t really seem like you were teasing. And now I’m confused because I can’t tell if you actually meant any of that or if you were just…dared to do it.”

“I was. Kind of. It was a bet, actually.” Jungkook’s face falls and you wince. “No, not like that, it wasn’t. Fuck, okay, it wasn’t a mean bet. I made a bet with the girls on the team that if the boys lost their game, then I would confess my feelings to you in some big dramatic anime way, like all that shit you like, right, and then the boys actually lost their game, so I had to do it, and then, wait.” Your brain catches up. “Did you say you have a crush on me?”

Jungkook’s face is still slightly pink, but he’s got the most tentative bunny smile on and he looks so unbearably fond that your heart is breaking. “I did,” He says softly. “So you really have feelings for me?”

“I’ve been in love with you for more than two years,” You blurt. You immediately want to take it back, want to suck the words back in before they can escape and embarrass you further, but it’s too late. “I mean…I was an orientation leader with Jimin right before my second year and you were in his group, and I saw you talking to some people and you were just really super cute and you have a really nice smile and I was kind of hooked and then later that year we were both at the dining hall and I was sitting near you and this guy said something about some anime and you were all, ‘really, because if you’d bothered to watch the show then you’d know blah blah blah’ and it was the single hottest anime takedown I’ve ever seen.”

Jungkook is silent through your babble, though his smile just grows and he fluffs the back of his hair. He looks around your apartment briefly, like he’s looking for words, and he’s got the prettiest flush on his face and you want to kiss it but he hasn’t said anything.

“I went to your first volleyball match that year, and you spiked a ball into a girl’s face,” He admits. You remember that match, mostly because- “And then you argued with the ref for almost ten minutes about whether or not you deserved a penalty for it because technically she was the one that tried to hit the ball with her face, you hadn’t tried to hit her in the face. I’ve never been so turned on by sports in my entire life.”

“I once spat water out my nose because you said hi to me in the dining hall.”

“I fell into that pool because you looked really fucking hot in your uniform and I couldn’t process the fact that you thought my anime shit was cool.”

“I want to lick your abs.”

He stops at that, and for a second, for a single second you think maybe you went too far, but then he’s glancing around at the apartment as if he’s actually looking for something now. “Is there anyone else here?” He eventually asks. You can’t even finish shaking your head before he’s on you, pressing his mouth to yours in a feverish kiss.

You want to say that it was soft and sweet and gentle at first, but it wasn’t, at all. The two of you had too much pent up sexual frustration for that. Instead, his lips move against yours with a ferocity you didn’t expect, and his hand on the back of your neck is unforgiving as he tilts your jaw to get deeper into your mouth.

“Fuck, Kook,” You moan, hands already roaming along his sweatshirt. “Please take it off, I’m begging you.” He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling against your lips and it sends a wave of arousal crashing through you even as he strips his hoodie off to reveal nothing underneath. You feast your eyes on the muscles he keeps hidden away, hands hesitating as they start to run along the skin. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, seems to actually bask in it, and he chuckles again as he lets his hands fall to your hips.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” He whispers in your ear, and you find yourself shaking at the way it feels. Erotic and sensual and hot as fuck, you want to return the favor, but you find yourself at a loss.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?” You ask, pushing against his chest and walking back with him until his knees hit the couch. “Do you know how often I’ve thought of this?” You push again and he falls back onto it, hands coming to grip your thighs as you straddle him, and you make sure to grind your hips against his as you move to whisper into his ear. “How often I’ve touched myself thinking of you?”

Jungkook moans, and you want to etch the sound into your fucking skin, it’s absolutely glorious. He says your name like it’s a curse and you’ve never wanted someone more. You grind yourself against the stiffness you can feel through his sweats, your own volleyball shorts leaving little to the imagination. You’re absolutely soaked, and you know it’s going to be a bitch to wash but you could not give less of a fuck right now.

He rolls his hips up to meet yours and it’s your turn to moan, hands coming up to brace on his shoulders as your tongue slides along his neck and down to his throat. His breath hitches when you graze the skin there with your teeth, so you repeat the action. His hands tighten at your hips and slide to palm your ass; you never thought a guy’s hand on your ass would feel as good as it does, but you also never thought you’d be making out with Jeon Jungkook on your couch instead of going to practice.

“Fuck, Kook,” You moan into his mouth as he slides his right hand up your shirt to cup your breast. It’s more difficult than it usually would be, as you wear your sports bras to practice, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. “Need you.”

“Don’t wanna fuck you on your couch yet,” He replies between the slide of his tongue against yours. “Your room, wanna make you come in your bed first.” Your legs tremble at the thought and you push yourself up. It’s hard to stand, your legs are wobbly, but Jungkook doesn’t even seem to notice it as you turn. His chest is pressed against your back immediately, one arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady while the other gropes your ass. His mouth is harsh on your neck and you can feel the bruises forming but at this point, you don’t even care.

You press yourself into him, and you can feel him. He curves, you can already tell; the heat radiating from the hardness pressed into the swell of your ass is delicious, and another wave of wetness seeps into your shorts as you think about what it’s gonna be like with him inside.

“You have no idea what these shorts do to me,” He whispers, nipping at the skin of your neck one last time before he slaps your ass - hard. You yelp, more in surprise than anything, but before you can say anything he’s pushing at your hips to force you through the apartment.

You’ve only made it to your bed faster once before this, when you thought you were being chased by an ax murderer that turned out to be a coat rack.

Jungkook isn’t gentle when you get to your room. He doesn’t even pause, just flips you around and shoves you onto the bed. It shouldn’t be nearly as hot as it is, and you’re quivering a little because of it. He slides between your legs, hands running slowly up your thighs, and it seems that now he’s decided to take his time.

His touch is feather-light against your skin. You can barely feel his hands as they slide up your thighs and over your hips, around your waist, and between your breasts, but you can’t ever deny where they are. You’re hyperaware of him, and the smirk on his face tells you that he knows it. The competitive side of you, the one that makes you so fucking vicious during games, swells; he needs to know you’re not one to take it lying down, and he needs to know now.

Your legs move up around his waist and you push, using all your weight to flip the two of you so he straddles you once more. He’s rock solid against your ass and you grind back into it. His hands slide along your waist again and he pouts a little.

“Wanted to taste you,” He whines, fingers dipping just below the waistband of your shorts. You hook your thumbs in alongside his and pull, letting the material slide down just enough to tease.

“So do it,” You tell him. He looks confused for a second before recognition washes over him. His dick twitches behind you, but you pay it no mind. You rise up enough to slide your shorts off, a true feat of excellence considering how tight they are, and when you settle back down on your knees, his tongue runs across your slit. You gasp at the feeling and he takes this as permission to continue.

Whatever you expected him to be like in bed, every sexual fantasy you’ve ever had about him, none could ever live up to the reality of Jungkook’s tongue sliding between your folds to flick your clit. You moan, nails digging into your thighs.

“You like that, princess?” He asks, muffled by your thighs and pussy. You nod before realizing that he may not be able to see you.

“Yes, I do,” You tell him, and your nails dig in harder when he flicks it again. He continues, tongue darting out to tease you but not giving you enough to get you where you want to go. You growl, and he laughs.

“Maybe you should be kitten instead if you’re going to growl at me.” You shudder at the name, and when you look down with red cheeks, he has one brow raised. “Really? Kitten?”

“Shut up, I know you have a Hatsune Miku body pillow,” You tell him. He looks ready to protest but you lower yourself so his lips brush your folds. He takes the hint, thankfully, and lets his hands curl up to grip your hips. “Put that fucking mouth to work, Jungkook, or so help me-” You’re cut off by an unexpected moan. He slides his tongue along you once more, from clit to hole, and you whimper.

You can literally feel the smirk against your pussy and you rock down onto him. He laps up your juices, swirling his tongue around your clit and back down to your hole. You grind your hips down into his mouth, desperate for more friction, and you feel soft breaths against you as he chuckles. You whine and he takes pity, angling himself better before sliding his tongue tantalizingly slow into you. You clench around him and are left unsatisfied. As wonderful and skilled as it is, it’s not nearly big enough to do what you need it to. Still, it feels damn good as he thrusts it in and out of you, good enough that when he starts to pull away, your hands dart down and tangle in his hair to keep him right where he is. You can feel your orgasm coming, it’s so close you can taste it, and when he slides a finger over your clit, you break.

Your hips stutter in their rhythm and you slide yourself to the side so he can breathe properly once more. He’s got a grin on his face and looks entirely too pleased with himself. He moves to lay between your legs, pressing soft kisses to your torso and thighs with every breath, and the fondness in your chest swells.

You can see him straining his sweats, it has to hurt, and yet here he is, showering you with kisses and sweet nothings instead of immediately trying to get off himself. What a refreshing change of pace.

“Thank you,” He mutters with a laugh, and you realize you’d been talking out loud. “I do really, really want to fuck you, though.” He trails kisses up your neck to your ear and you shiver. “Would you like that, kitten?” You whine and arousal courses through you once more. He trails kisses back down and unsnaps your bra; you would have to remember to thank Jisoo for suggesting you get a clasped sports bra, because it’s never been helpful before but thank God you don’t have to try to peel yourself out of a regular one now.

Jungkook presses his lips against your nipple lightly, fingers ghosting over the other to stiffen it. “You didn’t answer me, kitten. Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want me to slide into that pretty pussy?” You whimper, doing your damndest to pull him far enough that you can grind against something that isn’t air, but he holds his body just far enough away that you can’t. He gives your nipple little kitten licks, his saliva making the air that much colder and your nipples that much harder.

“You’re so wet for me, kitten,” He mutters as he lets his free hand rest on your thigh, thumb swiping lazily over your hipbone. “Can you feel it? Because I can, even from here. You’re absolutely soaked, I could probably just slide right in. Do you want that, kitten? You want me to pound that little pussy of yours until you can’t walk straight?”

“Fuck, Kook, please,” You moan. Your hands slide along his body, looking for any kind of purchase and finding none. He’s enjoying himself too much, and you’re too desperate right now to do anything about it. “Please, Kook, please fuck me already. I swear to god, I’m gonna send your fucking Evangelion fanfic to your professors if you don’t get in me soon.”

“How do you even know about that?” He asks, momentarily stunned out of character. You give him a satisfied grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” You lift your hips off the bed completely, letting them brush lightly against him. He stifles a moan and closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them, your entire body shivers with delight; he’s still that dumbass weeb but fuck, he looks like he’s going to absolutely wreck you.

“I’m gonna fuck this slut pussy of yours until you’re gushing, you hear me, kitten?” He says, kicking his sweats off. You don’t even get a chance to appreciate the sight of his dick before he’s lining up with your hole, the tip brushing against your clit in the process and making you moan. “I’m gonna fucking pound your pussy until it’s so fucking full you can’t remember your own name, let alone random shit about me. You’re gonna be begging for my cock, all day every day.”

“Fuck, Kook, yes, please, I want that,” You grind your hips up again and he moves, sliding inside of you in one easy movement. The stretch burns at first; he’s fucking huge, and he does curve, and it presses against every inch of you in such a phenomenal way that you never want him to stop. Your eyes must have rolled back in your head because when you open them, Jungkook has one hand stroking your cheek as the other supports his weight.

“Are you good?” He asks, soft and gentle. You nod, rolling your hips in a quick circle to let him know how good. He lets out another groan, soft and muffled, as if he’s containing himself. “You’ll let me know if you need me to stop?” You nod again. “Fuck, kitten, you’re so good for me.”

He starts to move then, dick dragging against your walls as he pulls back out slowly before slamming back in. Your moan echoes through the apartment, but all you hear is the soft call of your name from his lips as he repeats the motion. You raise your hips to meet his thrusts and it only takes a couple of minutes before you’re both panting. Your legs lock around his hips to bring him in deeper and he moans at the contact. He sits back on his knees and brings you up with him.

You’ve wanted to ride his dick for years, and it’s so much better than you ever thought. Every drag of his cock has you clenching, every thrust with this new angle has him hitting your g-spot and you’re seeing stars. He’s got one hand on the small of your back to keep you steady and the other on the back of your neck so he can bring you in close and kiss you deeply, whispering sweet nothings in your ear when he has to breathe.

The two of you move in tandem, hips gyrating against each other’s as you chase that high together. Having him inside of you feels like heaven and you never want it to stop. He starts to pull out and you shake your head, slamming your hips down onto his with renewed vigor.

“Gonna cum,” He huffs, and you press a kiss to his cheek.

“Good,” You tell him. His grip on you tightens and he slams into you harder. “Fucking cum inside me, Kook, please.” He moans, loud and unashamed, as he hits deeper inside of you with more force than you expect. You’re bouncing on his dick now, there’s no other word for it, and you fucking love it.

“Fuck, kitten, gonna fill you up so good,” He mutters. You nod, feeling the pressure inside of you tighten. “Gonna paint you with it gonna cover your pussy with my cum, want you to feel me inside you for days. Fuck, take it, kitten, take my cum inside, all of it, don’t let a single drop fall out.” He slams into you, again and again and again. Your throat is raw from the screams, you’re pretty sure he has scratch marks on his back, but you can’t bring yourself to care because, fuck, he feels so good.

He slams into your g-spot again, at the same time he kisses you deep and moves his hand to rub against your clit, and your orgasm slams into you like a freight train. You can’t even say anything, moans swallowed up by Jungkook’s mouth, but he knows by the way you clench and spasm around his cock, you can tell, because it only takes a few more shallow thrusts and he’s over that edge with you. You can feel his hot seed settling inside, spreading to fill you completely.

He lays you back on your bed, gentle, and slides out. His cum starts to seep out of you, you can feel it on your thighs, and when you open your eyes, he’s staring at the sight.

“Is this…something to be worried about?” He eventually asks. You shake your head and tap your bicep.

“Implant,” You tell him. “We’re good.” He nods and leans forward, and you feel his finger slide up your slit once more, gathering all of his cum before he pushes it back inside of you. When he’s satisfied that you’re as full as can be, he lays down next to you and tugs you into a lazy embrace. You take his hand and lick it clean, surprised at the fresh wave of arousal that hits despite your exhaustion. He smiles, cute and bunny-like, with the nose scrunch and everything, and you let yourself get lost in it.

He traces invisible shapes on your skin with his hands, all over your thighs and belly and arms and chest, and it’s an intimacy you’ve never had before. You watch him, eyes following each curve he makes, and trying to figure out what he’s drawing.

“It’s not Hatsune Miku,” He eventually says. You raise your brows at him and he grins. “I don’t have a Hatsune Miku body pillow.”

“Oh,” is all you can say. “Well, then, I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

“It’s Nami from One Piece,” He admits. You roll your eyes and grab a pillow to smack him.

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Kook.”

“I disagree.”

“What do you mean, you disagree?”

“I’ve got you, don’t I?”

The blush on your face gives you away even as you suppress the smile, but Jungkook lets you pretend, content to continue drawing on you with his fingertips. It’s the first time you’ve felt content and at peace in two years, and - you can’t believe you’re about to think this - you’re glad you put on that fucking cosplay.

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uwua3 · 4 years

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hi parental goose (should I say bunny?) figure I am here to request 😌🤘 can I request some amusement park date hc for kazunari? ♡♡♡♡ I love how you put songs you listened to while writing so I, your goose ally, will suggest a song! I really recommend listening to "She Looks So Perfect" by 5 Seconds of Summer since it gives off summer vibes and specially, kAZOO VIBES ♡♡♡ THANK U ILYYY ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

erisu 🥺 hi baby how are you everyone this is my Daughter my Baby my Other Child (lyd is the other baby) ♡ how r u did you sleep well here is *All My Love* of course you can request!!! i would do anything for you!!! but, thank you for recommending a song~ it is ON REPEAT as we speak!!! i remember being obsessed with this song when it came out! thanks for the nostalgia :D

summary: there was a rumor that couples who went on the ferris wheel together would be in love forever

warnings: multiple mentions of food

author’s note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERISU !!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH I’M SO HAPPY YOU’RE A YEAR OLDER YOU’RE GROWING UP SO FAST ♡ I LOVE YOU (so. much. hand. holding)

word count: 3,562

music: she looks so perfect – 5sos, hey mama! – exo–cbx

all the luck in the world.

🌻🎨 miyoshi kazunari

this was it, the biggest fair in the whole country was this weekend and this weekend only. you guys had to go

“yo~ we gotta go!!!” kazunari practically pushed the flyer in your face, not giving you time to read the colorful, bright font as he excitedly rambled about it being his dream to even attend such an iconic event

it didn’t take much convincing before he had whipped out two admission tickets from his pocket, as if he already knew you’d be on board with such a fun date with the coolest boyfriend ever!

(seriously... if you said no... he might’ve cried by himself, he just wants to check off a bucketlist goal with his favorite person and best friend ever!)

(“wah~ i’m so #cool right? give me a kiss to prove it!!!” when you actually did it, he was quiet for about three seconds before he started cooing and sending an attack of affection your way)

you two planned your outfits ahead of time (the only thing he bothered planning), with kazunari rummaging through your closet and throwing pieces he thought would coordinate behind him (ultimately landing on your face).

he was being your personal fashion consultant (you didn’t question him, he was an art student who knew how to dress!)

throughout the entire process, you strutted out of the bathroom like it was a runway with your ever chaotic and supportive boyfriend clapping. he had a questionable french accent as he complimented you without end

“my chérie, you are absolutely darling!” kazunari flipped the end of a feather boa over his shoulder dramatically as he had on a pair of sunglasses (how he found that in your room was beyond you). he sat at the edge of your bed with his legs crossed, pretending to write critics down on an invisible notepad as he feigned fainting out of shock

kazunari ran over to pull you in a hug as soon as you found one of his options perfect. he blabbered about how cute you were and how he was so lucky

you tried processing how your boyfriend had so much energy. he was so dramatic, but you never felt unconfident or nervous to be yourself around him because kazunari loved you for who you were!

when you collectively agreed on the best outfit, kazunari worked to find something of his own to match you to be that couple at the amusement park (it was hilariously coincidental he almost had the same items)

(the #ootd on instagram that day got him so many likes when he included multiple mirror pictures with you doing ridiculous poses. he captioned the picture with so many happy faces and heart emojis)

(yes, he had his own story category reserved just for your pictures)

(yes, you also were the person behind a majority of his posts online and was credited every single time without fail) (you were known as “kazu’s photo guru”)

“kazu... are you sure you don’t want to plan ahead?” you asked carefully as he just scrolled through his phone, disrupting his rant about having the most iconic date of all time. kazunari just laughed, shrugging without looking up

“don’t worry~ everything will be fine!” kazunari exclaimed as he asked his followers recommendations for rides to check out. you knew he wouldn’t change his mind with his “happy–go–lucky” attitude

you just hoped the drive to the park wouldn’t be a nightmare since it would be so crowded

on the ride up, you two screamed pop lyrics at the top of your lungs no matter how busy the road was (you two never noticed, but at stop lights, you’d be the center of attention as kazunari just had to fail at a whistle note with the windows down)

the moment kazunari took control of the aux cord, you knew it was going to be a party until you arrived. you two sang together so much that you knew which parts were yours and effortlessly bounced off each other, flowing naturally and laughing nonstop

although kazunari went with the flow, he had the luck of the world on his side the day when you guys showed up. he had managed to find parking, got in line fast, and made it into the amusement park like it was second nature

(you knew of horror stories where the lines were way too long in the blazing heat, kids crying about not winning, indifferent employees not caring at all... how did kazunari manage to repel all the bad from your life and make it as easy as possible?)

it was as if his positive energy about the whole day manifested the universe to give him the easiest entrance ever (or it was his insanely charming charisma that got him off the hook with just about anything)

you two even got a discount on your tickets, believe it or not! somehow, one look at you two and the seller knew you were a couple (the matching outfits definitely didn’t give it away) and gave you extra for “young love”

(kazunari was so ecstatic, you were almost worried he was going to kiss the employee right then and there. you had to drag him away before he got on first–name basis with everyone)

when you two got your wristbands and went to the grounds, kazunari let out the loudest squeal of excitement ever and had to stop himself from jumping up and down (just bouncing on his heels like an impatient child)

“O. M. G!!! we’re gonna have the best date ever!” kazunari shouted, holding onto your hand as he took in the entire view, with so much to do for the entire day

booths were set up with so many fun (but rigged) games with yelling handlers, advertising their set–up to passerbys with infectious energy. crowds of children were rambling in awe about the animal display (like the world’s biggest pig apparently, who knew?). screaming passengers were swinging over your heads from the multitudes of crazy rides only the country’s biggest fair could have

you were so busy taking in the view of kazunari’s excited big eyes and huge grin that you missed the mischevious spark glinting back at you

when he craned his head back at the tallest ride there was, that contraption that somehow brought tens of people in the air just to swing them around in a circle, you suddenly came back to earth

“—wanna bet?” kazunari finished, tilting his head towards you with a competitive edge. you raised an eyebrow, not bothering to question it when you swung your arm around his shoulders and smirked back

“bet.”

suddenly, you were being dragged to the games section, passing by the crowds easily when kazunari was always by your side. it was as if the road parted for him when he reached a display with balloons pinned to the wall

“i know you didn’t hear me, which is why i’m going to win~” kazunari teasingly hip–bumped you, passing the necessary amount of tickets to the game runner which they accepted graciously. you just shrugged, picking up the fake plastic rifle they let players use

(“was i too handsome?!” kazunari joked, missing how you actually agreed)

“yeah, yeah. i don’t need to know, i’m gonna win.” you winked, making kazunari swoon as he lifted his arm to his forehead with a dramatic flair

“my hero!” kazunari called out as you readied yourself to shoot the balloons, knowing the odds were gravely against your favor

“what am i shooting for again?” you asked, putting your cheek against the gun. kazunari just slid up to next to you, his lips brushing your ear with a smile

“if you lose, we’re riding the swings together~” kazunari giggled and you fired, hitting one balloon with satisfaction. kazunari wrapped his arms around your waist, reading his chin on your free shoulder despite you trying to focus

“and if i win?” you asked, not bothering to entertain your clingy boyfriend as you hit another balloon. even the person running the game seemed anxious about your chances at crushing the whole thing

“we can do whatever you want.” kazunari breathed out, placing a gentle kiss on your neck with a laugh when you flinched. you hit your last shot though, exhaling in relief when the attendant begrudgingly gave you a large–sized prize

(it was a super triangle, you definitely knew who you were giving this to when you got to the dorms)

“you know what, i think we’re both winners.” kazunari tried to laugh off, but you didn’t let him get away that easy when you grabbed his hand quickly

“nu–uh! you know where we’re going!” you giddily pulled him towards another game, leaving kazunari holding onto the super triangle with great difficulty as you two played game after game

(you were right; kazunari was an universal favorite as he somehow managed to swindle the toughest of games with sheer luck)

(when a kid began asking him to play a game for them, you knew you had to stop making your boyfriend do outrageous things just for a stuffed animal)

(at least kazunari got a cool boomerang story on his snapchat of him throwing a ring onto a bottle)

“make a deal with me~” kazunari begged, holding way too many prizes to count in between his arms as you looked around for more. he was about to give up but as he caught sight of two double doors with a neon sign, he knew you’d agree immediately

“if i win every game in the arcade, we’re going on the carnival rides.”

when you accepted the deal, you regretted it. somehow, you forgot how kazunari always had everything go his way

it was like you forgot all about the rides outside. you two entered an air–conditioned, hipster arcade and had to play everything despite dropping the coins everywhere (“please keep them in the cup!” “it’s not my fault!!!”)

you name it, kazunari probably won it. fuseball, air hockey, pac–man, nintendo crane machines, zombie shooters, motorcycle/driving simulators, he won it all just for the hell of it. you’d never admit it, but he really was just the best at everything he did

although the games were fun, it was time to fulfill your end of the deal (as deserved since kazunari had no reason to go as hard as he did at the ddr pad inside the arcade)

after storing all the stuffed animals into the cramped back of the car with kazunari apologizing to them profusely (“dad is so sorry! we’ll be back soon~ promise!”), you two returned to have the biggest adrenaline rush of your life

any rollercoaster kazunari saw, he wanted to go on right away. lines felt like nothing when all he did was talk them away and get so excited seeing the ride rush by

kid–specific rollercoasters had to prevent him from going (“i’m sorry, sir, but your height exceeds the maximum” “what???” kazunari would feign shock as if he wasn’t five heads taller than the whole line)

he wanted to try it all since he never had this experience before! he wanted to make all these memories with you even if it meant yelling his head off as long as you were by his side

(seriously, one ride you had squeezed your eyes shut but heard the most high–pitched scream ever. you thought it was someone else, but of course it was your boyfriend)

you didn’t mind that much, since you used the whole ride time to grip kazunari’s hand tightly and make sure his hat stayed on the entire ride (why he wore one was questionable, anything for fashion, you guess)

ironically enough, you had done about ten rides with dizzying effects before ending it with the swings, the tall ride he initially wanted to go on with you. when you looked up at the full height, you gulped after being strapped to the two–person swing (how was this safe?!)

it was the first ride you weren’t exactly comfortable with, but when you looked at your seat partner, kazunari had two thumbs up with a big dumb grin. you instantly calmed down before the ride started

“i love you!” kazunari exclaimed as the ride began pulling you up further from the ground, holding onto your hand and looking up at the blue sky with the giddiest expression ever

it was the first time he had said he loved you out loud before, but before you could process it, all you could do was scream when the ride began rotating you around in a circle

(you had to stop him from taking out his phone, reminding him the post wasn’t worth it)

(though, kazunari did drop his hat this time. he really was lucky to find it again)

“okay, okay,” kazunari stumbled off the ride, exaggerating his lack of balance by holding onto you, his excitement not even decreasing a little after so many hours of fun

“food time! my muse needs a snack!” kazunari had whipped out the crumpled map someone gave him from his pocket, quickly locating the area without being delayed (he was always good at directions, it must’ve been why he was so popular at these types of social events)

somehow, kazunari always knew what you needed at every exact moment. you were thankful he couldn’t hear your stomach growl over the sound of the general atmostphere

when you guys arrived at the food hall, it was definitely the greatest prize of all (sorry to the stuffed animals who were defintely overheating in the parking lot)

all the best chefs and caterers came together for this event with the most outrageous food options of all time. fried oreos, cheese curds, cotton candy, caramel apples, churros, basically anything you imagined, it was most likely 1000x better with some funky twist

you never had to be nervous ordering because kazunari always stepped up and spoke, letting you hold his hand as if to reassure you he had the situation handled. he would somehow form a meaningful friendship with someone within two minutes of ordering and got extras, hurrying over to a table with every option possible

(yes, he took a photo of the whole spread and added ridiculous hashtags only savvy internet users knew) (he also posted on his private an embarrassing candid picture of you drooling at the food)

kazunari liked feeding you whatever he was eating, always encouraging you to try new things but respecting your boundaries at the same time just in case you weren’t up for it

(“oh, you don’t want to? no big deal~ just happy to be with you!” he’d say, wiping your mouth with a napkin regardless and just being content with you not being hungry)

while eating, you noticed a pattern of kids walking by, pointing at kazunari like he was a legend

“is that the guy who won basically every prize back at the games? wow~” they whispered, not realizing kazunari was extremely observant as his ears perked up at his name. he had turned to wave at the children, but they ran off

“you know...” kazunari started, and you already knew what he was gonna say as you rolled your eyes fondly, knowing how big his heart was, especially for innocent children who kept getting scammed by games

“yes, we have no need for most of the giant stuffed animals.” you pretended to sigh, as he quickly got up, giving you a quick kiss as thanks on your cheek as he ran back to the car

for the next hour or so, you and kazunari managed to give out most of your prizes (except anything triangular) to the children who had been staring, all of their parents or guardians thanking you guys profusely for your gift (though, there were some who were staring at kazunari suspiciously)

(as if they should be afraid of a liberal arts college student)

“it’s no big deal~ no problem!” kazunari always said, truly finding it not bothersome at all to share. you always admired that about kazunari, his natural instinct to care for everybody and make people smile. at a distance

you leaned against a light pole with a small smile as you watched kazunari crouch down, ruffling some kid’s hair as he gave them a prize

when he instinctually looked for you, he smiled back like you were the only person at the park

suddenly, you wished you said “i love you, too” before back at the swings

after indulging, you two shared an ice cream cone on the hot summer’s day as the lights began to turn on and the sun set. this was apparently the best part of the fair, where all the colors would pop like fireworks and the night breeze was your friend

you two had basically done everything at this point, even being the amusement park’s robin hoods with your wins. the arcade had both your names at the top of every digital leaderboard, the ride controllers had seen you too many times to count, and you two had digested an unhealthy amount of snacks that you’d regret the next day

what else could you do? it was already the most perfect date, there was nothing else except...

this time, you leaned your head back and saw a circular shape blocking the sunset: the ferris wheel

you turned to kazunari, who was already admiring the way the light hit your face. he wanted to paint you right then and there before you ruined the serene moment by biting your ice cream (why?!)

“i bet i can make it to the ferris wheel the fastest, wanna bet?” you questioned and you never saw kazunari grin even bigger as his eyes lit up with recognition

“bet!”

you two raced to the ferris wheel, much to the chagrin of every carnival–goer ever who dodged your fast advances. you got to the line first, skidding to a stop and nearly bumping into the person ahead of you as kazunari whacked into your back with an “oof!”

“awww, what do i have to do now that i totally lost?” kazunari pouted, but you just giggled and poked his cheek, not noticing how he became slightly flustered from your touch (you could never tell, it was a hot day)

“go on it with me.” you offered and he didn’t even think twice before he agreed, realizing this was the ride he’s been waiting to go on with you this entire time

(kazunari remembered the only other thing he really researched was this ferris wheel, where a rumor around it stated two people who went on it would be together forever)

when you two were allowed into one of the trolleys, you two sat close like always with your head on his shoulder. the orange light made everything feel like a fantasy, like this was a daydream. you didn’t want to wake up as kazunari squeezed your hand the moment the wheel started increasing

slowly but surely, you two were going around in circles as you savored the moment, wanting nothing more than to be here with kazunari forever

“you know... i never thought i’d be here.” kazunari started and you hummed, encouraging him to keep going as his thumb traced circles around your palm

“i didn’t have many friends growing up, so it would’ve been totes not cool to come to these things alone!” kazunari tried to play it off as some joke, but you knew better, just lowering your hand to his lap and waiting for him to talk

“but... now... i have friends? good—no, great friends! and... i have you. i’m living, and i have you.” kazunari trailed off, like this was a revelation he hadn’t realized before. the quietness between you two dragged on too long, you wondered what he was thinking

you opened your eyes and kazunari was already looking at you again with a soft smile, not bothering to notice anything else but you, like he wanted to remember this forever

you two reached the top of the ferris wheel, the wheel stopping to give you two a moment by yourself with the sunset

“i love you.” kazunari said again, and you didn’t hold back this time

“i love you, too.” you whispered, afraid to break the moment. but kazunari laughed, and you were laughing, and it was like the funniest joke ever as you two tried to maintain your composure

even as you two got off, you couldn’t let go of him as he did the same. these were the memories child–kazunari always dreamt of, and they were so much better than he ever imagined

after saying goodbye to all his new friends, kazunari couldn’t stop smiling as he drove home, with you sleeping beside him in the passenger seat

he turned off his music this time and carefully watched the road. taking one hand off the wheel, kazunari took your own and kissed your knuckles again and again with love

“i love you, i love you, i love you.” kazunari said, like he couldn’t say anything else but that

(kazunari posted a shot where he held your hand in front of the sunset on the ferris wheel with the caption: “best date ever”)

kazunari really had luck on his side if he was in love with you, maybe he had the ferris wheel to thank for that!

#miyoshi kazunari #kazunari miyoshi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#a3! actor training game #act! addict! actors!#a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #kazunari x reader #a3! kazunari #a3 kazunari

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

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The Satellite Images

A friend of mine showed me how to use Google Maps. I'm sure you've seen it. It lets you use satellite images to look at locations all over the world. A few years ago, I was in a car accident. Since then, I really don't leave the house that often. It's difficult, and the idea of a seeing a car drive by me makes me feel lightheaded. I was fascinated by the fact that I could see all over the world, almost like being there. I could virtually walk down the streets, and it almost felt like I was really there.

I became instantly hooked. It gave me a real eye on the world. I could go to almost any major city, and I did. I'd seen streets in China, Japan, Germany, and England... so many places. I'd even gone to tourist attractions like the Great Barrier Reef and Dracula's castle.

My favorite was to go to random places in major cities and see how many people and animals I could find. The faces of the people were always blurred to protect their privacy, but it was still enjoyable to see them out there, enjoying their life, walking like it was no big deal.

"She must have good taste," I laughed.

I zoomed in closer and noticed the grey bag she carried on a grey and purple shoulder strap. She was walking in a relaxed manner, one hand trailing the wall beside her. I bet if I could have seen her face, I would see that she was smiling. I began to feel a little sad. I let my hands fall onto the arms of my wheelchair and looked at her for a minute more. I wished that I could be there, walking so carefree with her. That wouldn't happen though, until I died. I was stuck in this chair. I sighed and zoomed out of Tokyo. Enough of this for tonight. I turned off the computer and went to bed.

—

I got up early and decided to look around Paris. Paris was always fun. I liked the look of the city, with all of the old, beautiful buildings and so many people to watch. I randomly zoomed to an area and saw a street, lined with old brick buildings, a few small shops, and an old tan brick church. Ahead was an intersection, and dozens of people walked by. A balding businessman walked quickly past, looking back at an old woman, hair covered with a scarf, carrying a large purse. A curvy woman in black pants that were too tight stared into a store window, and two women led a group of small children around a corner.

I spun the view around a few more times, and then saw something peculiar. Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, were two people. One of them was a young woman with her feet stuck in front of her in a relaxed manner. She was wearing a pair of red sneakers, like my own. I was startled for a moment; as I noticed the black pants, white t-shirt, and black hooded jacket. Her dark brown hair was tied loosely behind her head. A grey bag sat on the bench beside her, the shoulder strap hooked over her shoulder.

"This is crazy," I thought. "It can't possibly be the same woman. This is a different country, different continent even. How could it be her?"

This was stupid. It wasn't as if these were live photographs. They were taken ahead of time and then stored. It's not like she was in two places at once. She could just be a traveler. Besides, without seeing her face, it was impossible to tell it was the same person. Brown hair was probably the most common hair color in the world. Those red sneakers were something I purchased online. I'm sure a million other people did too. I shook my head and went to fix some lunch.

When I got back online, I decided to look at Berlin. I picked a random street, as usual. It looked pretty empty. There were brick buildings lining the streets, looking more like factories than anything else. There were also empty lots, full of long grass and piled gravel. There wasn't much to see at all, really. There was a line of motorbikes and a car with two German flags sticking up from it. After more searching, I found one kid. He looked like he was dressed for school, a jacket thrown over his bag. He was intently looking at some kind of mobile device. I was disappointed. I started to leave, but then I caught something out of the corner of my eye. I turned the view, and there they were. Those damned red sneakers.

She was standing on a street corner, next to some kind of signpost. She had a hand on the post, looking down the street, as if waiting to cross the street. I stared, in shock. How could she be there too? Even if she was traveling, there's no way I would find her every time. Even finding her in Paris would have been one heck of a coincidence, but this? This was crazy. Was this some kind of joke? Had Google decided to play a prank on its users that used their product so much? It would have been a great joke...

I did a quick search, looking for a note about a woman that shows up like Waldo. There was nothing. I looked through articles on strange things you can see on Google Maps, but none of them mentioned the woman that travels the world with you. This was crazy. Had my self-imposed isolation driven me mad? Had I become so lonely that I created a hallucination for myself?

Leaving the Berlin image on my screen, I sent a text message to a friend, asking him to look at the locations. I asked him if he saw the same woman. Then I waited, hands sweating, heart thumping in my chest. I jumped when my phone beeped with a return text message, ten minutes later.

The text read, "I see the lady you're talking about in Berlin. I didn't see her in Paris or Tokyo. Is this some kind of game, or what? Are you okay?"

I didn't respond, instead returning to the locations in Tokyo and Paris. There she was. She was there, but it was different. She no longer sat on the bus-stop bench, in Paris. She was standing in front of it, looking for something in her bag. In Tokyo, she was blocks away, squatting down to pet that calico cat. I shivered. Who was she? What was happening?

I switched the map to Brussels. It was another city street. It was lined with old looking buildings, with shops on the ground level, and what I guessed was apartments above. I quickly scanned the streets. They were empty, other than a stocky woman in a bright blue sweater. I did a second sweep. She wasn't there. I sighed in relief. I couldn't believe I was getting so worked up about this.

It was nothing but a coinci-- I stopped, my eyes frozen on the screen. There was a building at the point of a fork in the road, white with a black-ironwork-framed balcony jutting from the second floor. I hadn't seen her, as I had been looking at the sidewalks. There she stood, standing on the balcony, her head tilted in the direction of the camera, almost like she was coyly looking toward me. My breath caught in my throat.

I switched to Sydney. She was leaning against the wall, inside the doorway of a bright blue Carricks Pharmacy building. London showed her getting ready to step onto a red double-decker bus, her head turned to look over her shoulder. She was everywhere I looked. She stood on a brick sidewalk on a bridge in Venice, she walked across a yellow barred crosswalk in Zurich; and in Hong Kong, and she stood between a Wing Lung Bank and a McDonald's adjusting the strap on her bag. In each picture, she came closer and closer to looking directly at me with her blurred out face.

My heart felt like a terrified bird, slamming around inside my chest. I couldn't catch my breath. I wasn't sure what to do. I couldn't call the police. Should I send screenshots to Google?

I clenched my fists tightly and closed my eyes. Who was she? Was she following me? Was I following her? I wish I could see the expression on her face, know what she saw when she looked back at me. I wanted to get out of the chair and run. Why is it that the only thing that made me feel free again, was the thing that made me feel even more trapped? I had to know.

I typed in the name of my town and zoomed into a random street. It was a couple of miles from my house; the gates to the city park were shown in the clarity of daylight, despite it being night here. There she was. There... There she was. She was only a few miles from my house, standing under the ironwork arch that stated the name of the park. She looked directly at the camera, directly at me. I felt like I might throw up. She was near me, and she was watching me. She was coming for me. What did she want?

I typed in the name of the apartment complex where I live. I could see the outside of the building. The parking lot was full of cars, and there were a few blurred out children on the playground. I searched everywhere for her. She wasn't in the parking lot or on the sidewalks, not hiding between the buildings or standing in the playground. I even scanned each of the cars, behind the bushes, and each of the blurred windows. She wasn't there. I curled tightly around myself and lay my head down on the desk.

This place was safe. I didn't leave the apartment anyway. I would never use Google Maps again. I would never see her again. She could stay at the park for all I cared. I smiled to myself and was surprised to find a tear slipping down my face.

"I'm safe," I said to myself in a whisper. It felt good to hear it out loud. "I'm safe."

As I said it, there was a knock at the door. A chill ran down my spine. I had a camera hooked to my computer that showed who was at the front door, which made it easier for me, with my mobility issues. I slowly reached for the control to show myself who was outside, but my hand trembled furiously. As I touched the control, I realized my mistake. The last of Google's images that I'd seen had only shown the outside of the building. Just the outside.

I looked at the screen and saw a woman in a white t-shirt, black pants, black hooded jacket; and carrying a grey bag with a purple and grey striped shoulder strap. Of course, there were those red sneakers. She looked directly at the camera, her face still a complete blur. As I tried to stifle a scream, she raised a hand and knocked loudly on my front door.

#explore #beginner witch #spirituality #sigils #journal #creepy #creepypasta #horror #horror community #truefacts #true stories #follow #new to tumblr #scary stories #creepy photo #Reddit

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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Klaine one-shot “Fitting” (Rated NC17)

Summary:

When Kurt tasks Blaine with picking out an appropriate match to his witch costume for the annual Vogue Halloween party, he pictures his husband choosing something skin tight and sexy. ... Well, he gets the skin tight right ... (1435 words)

Notes: This is a re-write. Don't @ me. Why am I posting this now instead of holding onto it till Halloween? Murder hornets, that's why.

Read on AO3

“Blaine! Honey! Come on! We’re going to be late!” Kurt emphasizes this point (to himself, at least) by checking his phone, pulling a sheepish face when he realizes it’s only been a minute since the last time he scolded his husband. Still, his criticism stands. This costume party, organized each year by the Vogue event coordinators, promises to be campy as hell, but as a gay man, he can appreciate that. He’s been looking forward to it for the past few months.

He’d like to get there some time before it’s over.

“I’m sorry, Kurt,” Blaine calls from behind their bedroom door. “I didn’t think … mmph … I was … ugh! … taking too long. Besides … *grumble grumble grumble* isn’t there … grrr … a certain greatness … mmph - to fashionable lateness?”

“Fifteen minutes is fashionably late,” Kurt says, checking his face in the mirror to make sure he hasn’t started sweating from all the pacing he’s been doing. He doesn’t want his makeup to smear before the world gets the chance to see his masterpiece. Good thing he added a healthy spritz of Urban Decay All Nighter, then Instagrammed it the second he finished. It’s been duly recorded for posterity. “Twenty-five minutes is excusable. But close to an hour? That’s just plain rude. If we take any longer, we might as well call it a night and go Trick or Treating instead.”

“God, I would kill for a Snickers,” Kurt hears Blaine mutter, and he laughs. “I’m sorry … urgh! … but this … (incoherent muttering) isn’t an easy … frick frick frick! … costume to get into.”

Kurt stops fussing with his makeup and grins. He’s annoyed that they’re late, yes, but he can’t deny the fact that Blaine squeezing himself into a difficult costume has the potential to make up for it. Since the day they began dating, Kurt and Blaine opted for the ‘couples costume’ thing, alternating each year as to who picks the theme. Blaine goes for the same general idea every turn – a dynamic duo from either the MCU or DC Universe, or a problematic fave from reality TV. Kurt aims for more Broadway based or drama series inspired costume ideas – Elphaba and Fiyero, Loras and Renly, Agron and Nasir. But this time, he decided to take a different route - shake things up a bit. He picked out his costume, then had Blaine come up with a match, just to see how things would go if they played off one another, bearing in mind that the costume party has a theme.

This year’s is Expect the Unexpected.

When Kurt chose to go with his own twist on a witch costume, Blaine was then tasked to find something to match. Surprisingly, he did so almost immediately … then refused to tell Kurt what it was.

And the suspense has been killing Kurt ever since.

Blaine could be going as a warlock - simple, maybe slightly unoriginal, but Kurt has faith in his husband to throw in a wrench somewhere. Since Kurt’s rendition is Tonks influenced (complete with an ombre pink/blue/purple wig), Blaine may also follow the Harry Potter route (since it’s his favorite book/movie franchise of all time) and go as a werewolf. Or he might be dressed as a witch’s familiar.

A cat springs to mind.

A long, black, sinewy cat; a skin tight leotard exposing bulging biceps (along with a bulging something else); and a tail sliding between the crack of his muscular buttocks. That would explain the painful grunts and groans coming through the bathroom door.

That much cinch-y Spandex would be a bitch to put on after a shower and without any help.

Kurt lets that thought linger in the forefront of his mind for a moment, lets it settle into his body and do things to him.

And while he does, he whimpers.

If Blaine comes out of their bedroom dressed like that, they may end up leaving later than they already are … if they leave at all.

Of course, Blaine’s superhero alter ego since high school is called Nightbird so there is a chance that - while still staying true to the Harry Potter vein - he’s dressing like an owl.

Could a full-body suit of feathers be sexy? Kurt wonders.

He hates to admit the jury’s out.

The door to their room opens while Kurt is daydreaming, so he doesn’t notice his husband until he clears his throat and says, “So … what do you think?”

Kurt snaps out of his stupor at lightning speed, eager to see his husband’s version of whatever character he came up with (please be a cat, please be a cat, please be a cat!), but finds himself stumped by the creature in front of him, swathed in brown latex and bearing his husband’s face.

“That depends …” Kurt tilts his head from side to side, trying to find an angle that will ultimately reveal what he is, but he can’t seem to find it. Kurt definitely got the ‘skin tight’ right, but whether or not that’s a good thing, he has yet to decide. He circles his husband, looking him over from top to luscious bottom, but neither from front nor back can he figure out if Blaine is supposed to be some sort of animal … or a shiny turd with furry feet. The brown seems to have some kind of grain painted on. What could that mean? “… what are you supposed to be?”

Blaine raises his arms as best he can and announces, “I’m a broom!”

“A … a broom?”

“Yup.”

“And why, of all the things you could have chosen, did you pick a broom?” Kurt asks, amazed that somewhere in the recesses of the web, some company (more than likely out of Hong Kong) came up with a broom costume … and his husband ordered one.

“You wanted me to pick out a costume that would match yours,” Blaine reminds him. “Something unexpected …” He waddles over to his husband, trying his best to look sexy even though a good two feet of his costume sticks up over his head like a wonky dildo. “Plus, you know what they say …”

“And what is that?” Kurt asks, distracted by the fact that he has no idea how they’re going to get Blaine into an Uber.

“If the broom fits …” Blaine pauses to bounce his eyebrows suggestively “… ride it.”

“Does that fall along the lines of ‘I licked it, so now it’s mine’?”

“That makes every inch of my body yours then, doesn’t it?” Blaine manages to wield his seductive voice even though he looks absolutely sexless. “Except maybe my feet below the ankles.”

“Yeah, well, sorry, but I’m not into that.” Kurt leans back to get another full look at his husband and shakes his head. “How long exactly did it take you to get into this?”

“Longer than I care to admit.” Blaine attempts to tug at the rear of his outfit, leading Kurt to assume there may be some kind of attached brief underneath, causing him a latex uni-wedgie, and probably some unmentionable chaffing. “Does that deserve some kind of reward?”

“Possibly.” Kurt crosses his arms. “Can I dress you up in something more appropriate if you get one?”

Blaine grins, but then he scowls, wiggling his body with a tortured expression on his face. “You know, originally I did all of this to vie for a little unnecessary external validation, but this costume is crushing me.”

“That bad, huh?”

“A-ha. My butt itches like crazy, and I’m having trouble breathing. So, if you help me out of this, I promise, you can put me in anything you’d like.”

“Good.” Kurt walks over to his drafting table and grabs a heavy duty seam ripper. “Because I’ve always thought you’d make a stunning Morgan le Fay.”

Blaine fixes his husband with an anxious expression as Kurt searches for an air pocket big enough for him to poke without impaling his husband. He has to give Blaine credit. This costume looks so painted on, he’s having trouble finding any gaps at all. “Can I wear that McQueen thing with the red brocade coat and those black thigh high boots of yours?”

Kurt finds a safe spot and pricks it with the sharp tip of his tool. The material pops, giving way to a long rip down Blaine’s left side, freeing him from his latex prison. He lets out a sigh that sounds downright orgasmic. It alone is worth lending him the boots. “Deal.”

#klaine #klaine fic #klaine fanfiction

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daosfanficcharacters · 3 years

Note

cat person and dog person meet at petco and their pets won’t stop hissing and growling at each other au with a ship of ur choice

Cross-posted to AO3!

The ship is Jasvando, of course. That's probably what I'm known for at this point.

"Shhh, shhh, do not fret." Jasper holds Baron close and gives him a kiss on the forehead. "We are here to get you a birthday present, remember? It is your first birthday."

Baron writhes in Jasper's grasp, obviously scared of the storm raging outside the car. It hadn't been this way when Jasper started driving to the pet store. In fact, it had been a perfectly sunny day before the weather abruptly soured, creating a thunderstorm so bad that even the strongest animals would have trouble coping. Jasper retrieves Baron's harness/leash combo from the cat carrier and holds it near Baron.

"Baron. Baron. Hold still."

When Baron refuses to follow Jasper's orders, Jasper sighs and wrestles the harness onto poor Baron. Once the harness is secure, Jasper holds Baron tight before opening the door and dashing to the pet store as fast as he can. Baron chirps as loud as his tiny lungs can, digging his claws into Jasper. Jasper rips open the door and gets inside, making sure it's fully clothed before quickly wiping water droplets off Baron and setting him down on the floor.

"That was not so bad, was it?" Jasper pets Baron before firmly grasping his leash and walking to the cat section, passing a black-haired woman with a small, leashed poodle. Baron starts to rear back and hiss at the dog. "Baron! Be nice!" Jasper scolds.

The woman spares a glance Jasper's way as she sips her iced tea. She has a pleasant face, Jasper notes. Jasper continues on his way, keeping an eye on his tense cat. Baron's fur stands on edge as he stays so close to Jasper that Jasper risks kicking or tripping over him. After a near-miss, Jasper just picks Baron back up and holds him like a baby.

Jasper turns and steps into the aisle full of cat toys. Baron can't help but look at all the pretty, colorful toys on display. And Jasper can't help but smile at Baron. Jasper sets Baron down so that he can investigate the toys.

"Pick any toy you want. It is your special day, after all." Jasper watches as Baron sniffs the toys one by one. Jasper bends down to gently rub at Baron's fur to help him stay calm.

Baron takes his time deciding what toy he wants. In the meantime, Jasper checks his phone. There's not much in terms of notifications. Just a spam text, a notification from a game Jasper stopped playing a little over a month ago, and an email from his boss. Jasper ignores them all in favor of the weather forecast, only to groan. It claims that his location is perfectly sunny, without a single cloud in the sky.

"Meterologists need to learn the function of windows…" Jasper grumbles.

Thunder strikes the building with a deafening crash, making Jasper nearly drop his phone. The lights flicker before returning to normal.

"Goddess!" Jasper shouts, clutching his free hand to his heart. He pants as he waits for his heartrate to calm down.

A shout followed by a cat's yowling and a dog's barking rings through the mostly empty store. Jasper rolls his eyes.

"Ugh. Some animals must have gotten out again…" Jasper sighs. He shoots a glance to Baron, only to find a harness without a cat. "Wait a minute!"

Jasper quickly stands, scanning the aisle for Baron. Growls and barks emit from outside the aisle. Jasper doesn't waste a second running to the angry animals. Please don't let Baron be involved. Please.

Jasper rounds a corner. The woman from earlier is shrieking in Valorian, with none other than Baron clinging to her with his claws alone as he and the poodle threaten one another with their voices.

"Baron!" Jasper reaches for Baron and pries him off, Baron resisting the whole time. Once he's forced Baron away from the woman, he clutches Baron close, ignoring Baron's sharp claws as they rip into him. "Shhhhh. The dog is not going to hurt you. I am here."

"Atole!" The woman half-shouts to her dog. "Quiet!"

Surprisingly, the poodle stops barking.

"Sit."

The poodle sits down.

Both humans let out a sigh of relief. The woman glances down at her shirt, soaked down the front, and grimaces. Jasper sees the remains of her drink lying at her feet.

"My deepest apologies." Jasper gives a mini-bow. "My cat, Baron, got scared of the thunder, broke out of his harness, and bolted."

"Oh, honey…" The woman frowns. "I'm so sorry about my doggie. He gets really protective of me."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. One minute, I was looking for some cute new clothes for my little Atole-" The woman bends down to pet the poodle. "The next, your cat came out of nowhere and scared the living daylight out of us."

Jasper sighs. "You little brat…" Jasper scritches Baron's neck. "Naughty cat. And on your birthday, too."

"Noooo! Baron's a good widdle kitty! He just got a little scared!"

Jasper laughs at that. "Do not fret, it is mere affection."

"Baron's just a baby!" The woman looks legitimately distressed at Jasper's words.

Jasper chuckles and smooths out Baron's fur. "Baron is a grown man, now. He can handle it."

"All animals are babies!" The woman picks Atole up. "Just look at little Atole's itty bitty baby face!"

Atole starts barking now that he is at eye level with Baron.

"Atole! No!" The woman frowns at Atole, and Atole stops. She starts bringing Atole to her chest, but apparently thinks better of it and puts Atole down.

"…What is your name?" Jasper asks.

"Right now, it's Sylvia." Sylvia replies. "As soon as I become a boy again, it will be Sylvando."

Jasper glances at the drink and carefully picks the cup up. "After I finish shopping for my cat, may I get you a new drink to replace the one Baron ruined?"

"Of course." Sylvia smiles as she tucks her hair behind her ear. "There's a pet-friendly cafe nearby. Do you want to go there?"

"I do not see why not. Perhaps I could get a birthday cake for Baron." Jasper looks down at Baron, who seems to have calmed down. "After the rain passes, of course. Baron does not like the rain."

"Then it's a date!" Sylvia declares with a wide grin.

Jasper sputters and blushes. "It- it is not-!"

It's Sylvia's turn to laugh. "Darling, has anyone told you that you're adorable when you blush?"

Jasper groans and hides his face in Baron's fur. "Sir Baron Ratonero the First, this is all your fault."

Sylvia pulls some tissues from her purse and wipes up the spill before throwing the wet tissues away. "Come now, darling. Is a trip to a cafe with your new friend all that bad?"

"…I suppose not." Jasper sighs in defeat.

"Or should I say… your new girlfriend?" Sylvia leans forward and winks.

Jasper nearly dies on the spot.

#dragon quest 11 #sylv #jasper #jasvando #dragon quest #dq11 #dqxi #writing #ask #prompt

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kpopchangedme · 4 years

Text

Im Jaebeom | Pregnancy!au [M]

Jaebeom read so many baby-related books he's forgotten how to enjoy some simple pleasures... (Oh, and you are obviously cranky and hormonal but he knows better than to tell you that!)

Protagonists: Im Jaebeom & You

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: NSFW - Newly Weds - Romance - Angst - Pregnancy - Pregnancy sex- Smut || [Drabble 2k]

Prompts: “I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time” + “Should have gotten a puppy.” [Anon]

Lyly's note: Is this sexy pregnancy!au worthy of Things I Wish I Knew or what? lol. Pregnant ladies, go get some! ;)

GOT7 | M.list

You let out a loud swear, stepping on a phone charger someone has somehow abandoned in the middle of the living room. It freaking hurts, like a tiny torture device, tore the sensitive skin of your foot. Of course, when you sit on the couch to examine it, it looks perfectly fine.

“Should've gotten a damn puppy,” You curse again under your breath, unreasonably livid.

Instantly, the guilty party's head pops out of the doorframe to his office. “Honey!” Jaebeom considers you from head to toe in outrage, “The Shrimp has ears.”

That's his thing now that the third-semester started; obsessing about auditory development and what the baby is able to hear. Swears, news coverage of dramatic events and loud quarrels are strictly prohibited. He plays music whenever he has the chance, boasting about how you are growing a music whiz.

Ever since he read his first damn pregnancy book, Jaebeom turned into a helicopter daddy-to-be, always hovering to make sure you are doing everything right. At the end of the third prenatal visit, he decided on moving his whole studio at home to work and mommysit – as he calls it.

By the time he was done with the fourth pregnancy book, you felt like nothing but an incubator to his spawn. That's not exactly what you wished your first year of life together would feel like. But then again, you didn't plan on getting pregnant on your honeymoon, the first time you two ditched contraception. It happened very fast. Everyone called it a blessing and you did too for a while, you were elated. Right until you started to lose your hair and struggle with acne like a damn teenager… Now it varies daily, you are either excited or scared shitless, in high spirits or easily irritable, you can't tell before it shifts. Overbearing, Jaebeom has gotten better than yourself at reading your daily disposition.

When you glare at him, he straightens worryingly in the doorframe, partly to blame for your current mood. “Don't look at me!” You snap in exasperation, still rubbing the sole of your aching foot. “Can you stop looking at me like that?”

He risks taking a few steps in your general direction, expertly assessing the situation, “Like what?”

"Like I’m a ticking bomb; like I'm gonna start yelling at you any second!” Freezing in the middle of the place, he presses his tongue to his cheek. You are almost shouting, but he knows better than to point that out.

“I’m not,” Jaebeom comes to sit by you guardedly. He makes sure not to maintain eye contact for too long, as though you're a dangerous fickle animal. "Did you hurt yourself?"

You hiss threateningly at the question but he still reaches for your perpetually bloated foot. Gently, he massages it, flashing you a dumb innocent smile. Still sullen, you at least allow him to do that much.

Fine, you do not completely hate having your man work from home.

“I can’t help the fact that I’m so goddamn moody all the freaking time...”

“Moody?” You cross your arms over your chest and Jaebeom chuckles, shaking his head. “You're the living definition of serene honey... You're the best. I love you.”

“Shuddup.” Groaning at the fake compliment, you offer your second foot after a minute of pampering, slightly appeased. “Stop trying so hard, it turns me into a cliché bitch.” You don't miss Jaebeom’s grimace at the word, but he isn't brave enough to correct you again. “Tell you what, if the baby's first word is a swear... I’ll do everything you ask of me for a year.”

"Everything? A whole year?” Raising his eyebrows suggestively, Jaebeom leans in for a lengthy kiss. “You know I can't say no to a promise like that. I would abuse that power, I’m quite imaginative.” You laugh against his mouth, sliding your arms around his neck for him to linger a little longer. Your hub has one hell of a gift, he can always change your mood, even on the worst days. That being said, you're always in the mood for some sexy time with him lately. You just have limited positions and flexibility. “I might teach the Shrimp your favourite cusses just to win that privilege.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

Laughing, Jaebeom sits back but you follow, managing to climb him without difficulty. It's clear he has started something with his massage, stirred your desire. “I’m not done,” he warns pointlessly, not talking about you, "I'm working hard." He points his chin to the studio, but you don't climb down. There's no way he believes you will let him go back to his office right now.

“Very hard yeah,” chuckling, you pull at the collar of his shirt, “Mister Producer.” He breaks the kiss to get rid of the piece of clothing himself, eager to entertain your favourable disposition. Some sacrifices are harder to make than others, and taking a break from work for quick sex is a no brainer. Your hands roam his shoulders, even after all this time you still can't get enough. “Did you save it?” Nudging your nose to his, you pull away to throw your loose gown over your head.

Jaebeom groans, already expertly unhooking your bra, “Of course I saved, but I’ll need to get back to it...” His mouth explores your neck and you throw your head back, savouring every single one of his kisses. “Feeling better?” He hums, lightly sucking your skin and you moan. Fine, having your man work from home is the best damn thing that ever happened to you. At your natural response, Jaebeom cups your swollen breasts, thumbs rubbing circles on your areolas.

“Shit.” Instantly, he shushes in disapproval making you laugh. You lean into him as much as your 29 weeks belly allows. “I can't help myself, I'm too sensitive.”

“I can see that baby,” Jaebeom marvels as his constant stroking of your nipples makes your thighs jerk. “I read third-semester’ orgasms are incredibly intense...” You rise to your knees to slide his fleece jogger pants down, smoothly freeing his erection. These darn books sure reveal some useful information sometimes… “What do you think?”

“Oh, how would I possibly know that?” He stops altogether, freezing under you at the joke. Barely two days prior, you finished twice before he did – very expressively – but still, he hesitates. For a man as skilled as he is, it sure is easy to make him question himself. Jaebeom is contemplating his life, a dubious look on his face when you take his cock in your palm. His eyes shut, goosebumps spreading on his body at your touch. Smirking, you stroke him leisurely, “I guess you’ll have to keep working hard so we can find out.” You say that but really, you’ve been so hypersensitive lately, he could make you reach your high without even trying.

“You know...” Opening his eyes lazily, Jaebeom frowns; “I'm not sure how I feel… About the Shrimp is hearing all our sexy talk...” It's your turn to stop everything.

Oh no, he did not just say that… Not after all the stuff he put you through!

“I swear to God, Im fucking Jaebeom! I let you have your way until now; I gave up caffeine, cheese and fish…” Suddenly livid, you start checking things off of your fingers. “You are worried of dumb stuff you read about despite the doctor's best opinion... So, I let you hire a cleaning service; I stopped driving myself around and dyeing my hair; I allowed you to post our ultrasounds all over your socials; I didn't say anything when you sent the cats away to your mom's…” His mouth is open in awe as you angrily go on. He's clearly racking his brain to find out what he said wrong. Him and his stupid pregnancy obsessions. “But this... This is where I draw the fucking line Jaebeom. If you stop making love to me because it creeps you out... Honest to God, I will murder you. I don't care what the baby hears. The doctor said it was safe. I want sex, I need sex. Give me sex, or I'll destroy you.”

“Honey,” Jaebeom bites his lips, struggling to conceal his amusement, “I wasn’t saying we should stop. It doesn't bother me like that...” His right palm rubs your lower back in repetition to ease you. “I was just wond–”

“I don't care what you wonder about,” you interrupt, still down, “just do me.”

Before Jaebeom can fully laugh at you flaring over nothing again, you're kissing him roughly, intended on getting your way. Wriggling under you to get to a better angle, he doesn't seem too affected, simply enjoying the hormonal rollercoaster ride. One of the actual perks of your pregnancy is being in the mood quickly and it's more than just your desire, it's physical too. Something that is undeniable when his hand finds its way between your legs. You're ready for him already, wet and messy. Though you rock into his palm briefly, there's only one thing on your mind right this instant.

You don't want to wait any longer to feel him inside you. You use Jaebeom's shoulder as a fulcrum to position yourself, raising on your knees and he helps, holding his cock as you gradually sink down. Once you're sitting back on him on the couch, filled, you pause, dropping your forehead to his. Eye to eye, out of focus, Jaebeom pecks your lips tenderly. His hands caress your belly on their way to the side of your thighs. That's enough to make you soft all over again. The power that man holds over you knows no limit. Careful, you rise, rocking your hips forward to add friction before sliding back down. This lazy back and forth goes on for a while and every time you fall down and your ass meets his thighs with a clap, you feel like breaking.

“Okay?” Jaebeom mumbles, using his strength to firmly guide you upwards. You're thankful for his help because you're heavy and tired. You nod, letting out a weird throaty sound when he fills you up once more.

Jaebeom chuckles, entertained by your acute senses and unusual reactions. Sliding on the large couch to lay, he makes sure you follow closely, riding him. From this position, he can take better control, raising his hips to slam into you. You coo when he does, hovering above to let him have his way. You're already too taken by so little. There's a gentle thud in your belly at the shift of position but Jaebeom doesn't seem to feel the baby stir, awakened by your unrest. Thank God, because the last thing you want right now is for him to stop or slow down. It's not something abnormal or new at all, but now that the baby's movements are getting more noticeable from the outside, you wouldn't be surprised if it messed up with Jaebeom's sexy groove. In the dark, he picks a swift pace, thrusting faster but lighter, making sure to stretch this moment for as long as you both can.

Yet, you're shaky and unfocused, unable to calm yourself. Way too fast, you come undone, overwhelmed by the friction and pleasure. Ecstatic, you drop on your hands, on all fours, as your intense orgasm washes through you. Aware you're peaking already, Jaebeom maintains his rhythm, breathlessly laughing at your shortage of stamina. Sure, he was right, pregnancy orgasms are amazing but they also come almost unannounced and are ridiculously exhausting.

Losing the smile, Jaebeom frowns in concentration, probably trying to finish too. After a whole minute, you're still being carried by your own paroxysm, core quavering when his hips halt altogether. Sighing deeply, he cums in spurts inside you, letting go probably more hastily than he would have wanted to. He's a team player. He knows you won't be able to handle him for long after oversensitivity hits you.

Afterwards, you both stay like that for a moment – as one – trying to repossess yourselves. Some days, it's like you're an entirely different person. Food doesn't taste the same, you yell at your caring husband over nothing and your orgasms are absurdly drawn-out.

“Hey,” Jaebeom speaks up after an eternity and you take it as a cue to pull away, letting him fall out of you, “that was very quick. Are you alright, was it good?” Typical of him lately, being so overly concerned, you snort. Reaching for the tissue box on the coffee table, he offers them up so you can clean yourself. Still overpowered, you nod, laying back naked on the couch to do so.

What a sight it must be, a stranded whale in the middle of his living room.

Jaebeom doesn't seem to see that though. Transfixed, he positions himself to comfortably kiss and hold your heavy belly. His fingers linger, tracing patterns over the stretched skin. “What about you Shrimp?” He asks mouth pressed to the bump, tickling. “How are you doing?” Sure enough, the baby rolls, following the sound of his familiar reassuring voice.

“We definitely woke her up”, you announce casually, grabbing one of his hands to position it better. Now that it's over, hopefully, he won't mind or get weirded out by that idea. “And you’ll need another nickname, we're both getting huge.”

“Sorry,” Jaebeom apologizes with adoration when there's a more obvious kick. To him, his baby girl's tumbling never gets old. To you neither, but it's a different sensation entirely. Whispering in confidence, he adds, “You'll always be a shrimp to me." At the words, you can't help the flutters you feel, not from the baby. When he looks up this time, Jaebeom doesn't seem as apprehensive of your reaction. You're on the magical post-coital cloud of happiness, together. “What?” If it could, your heart would physically expand from emotion at the sight, swelling with unconditional love. As an only answer, you run a hand through his locks and he cutely grins. “Shrimp, I think we're safe for now. I don't think mommy wants to murder daddy anymore...”

“Daddy needs to get over himself,” you dramatically roll your eyes, smiling, “he knows mommy loves him, no matter what…”

GOT7 | M.list

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