#wow its almost like i project onto him lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 4 years

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some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected.

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead.

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook.

Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with.

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke.

Neither of you laugh.

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak.

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got.

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case.

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car.

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight.

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him.

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father. “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing.

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance.

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering.

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #mine

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kpophours · 4 years

Text

Sweet Night (M)

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, camping trip AU / fluff, smut / REQUESTED

➵ warnings: slight cursing, explicit mentions of sex (slight public teasing, orgasm denial, oral: receiving, slight choking)

➵ word count: 6k (lol oops)

a/n: after a few anon requests/inquiries, I decided to write this one shot as the second part to Way to You - you can absolutely read this on its own though.

I’M WALKING ON SUNSHINE, OOOOOOH! I’M WALKING ON-

Your eyes fly open as soon as the song starts blaring from somewhere beside you, and you blindly fumble for the alarm clock, thankfully managing to find the off-switch quite quickly. This very annoying clock was a horrible yet also kinda thoughtful birthday gift from Chan’s roommates, as it’s quite possibly the loudest one on the market, meaning it is able to wake literally anyone. It could probably even wake Dracula from his deep slumber in the depths of his castle somewhere in Romania. And while Chan might not be a vampire, he isn’t one to wake easily either, so this extremely loud alarm clock was the only solution your friends had been able to come up with. Which sadly means you experience something close to a heart attack every morning - or well, at least a few times a week, as you do still spend some nights at the apartment you share with Jisung.

You fall back into the pillows, heart still racing from the sudden noise. Pale sunlight filters through the curtains and into the otherwise dark room. You groan, blinking against the rays of light hitting you straight in the face, and turn around to cuddle into your boyfriend’s broad back. He hums, only half-awake himself, and turns around to wrap both arms around you, leaving a lazy kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, there’s a crash from somewhere in the house, and you jump. Chan sighs deeply, and murmurs “Hyunjin, probably.” under his breath - it’s no secret that his roommate is a walking disaster. You don’t answer, only pressing a soft kiss on his naked chest. “How’d you sleep?”, he asks, one hand beginning to trace gentle patterns on your bare back. “Like a rock - which was exactly what I needed after my midterms.”, you answer, and he nods. “You more than deserved that, babe. I’m really proud of you, by the way. I’m sure you aced all your exams.”, he says, and you can’t help but smile at his sweet words. You look up at him, gently cupping his cheek, and kiss him. He basically melts against you, pulling you even closer towards him, and bites down on your lower lip to slide his tongue into your mouth. Before this can end in a steamy morning make-out session, there’s a knock on Chan’s door. He groans and draws back from you, expression grumpy. “What?”, he then yells, shooting daggers towards his door. “Just wanted to make sure you’re up, we’re supposed to be leaving in an hour!”, Felix answers, sounding way too cheerful so early in the morning. “Ugh, I hate morning people. Just once I want to get up in the morning without having to go through the seven stages of grief first.”, you mumble, your warm breath tickling Chan’s neck and making him giggle and wiggle away from you. “Yeah, we’re up!”, he quickly answers Felix, who shuffles away from the door, before turning towards you again, “Wait, aren’t there only five stages of grief? What are your extra two?” “Denial part two and astral projection.”, you answer, and Chan laughs before giving you a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“Breakfast?”, he then asks, and you nod. “Absolutely. I need coffee, and lots of it.”, you agree, and he rolls his eyes. “I swear, by now there’s definitely coffee running through your veins instead of blood.”, Chan mumbles, before jumping out of bed to grab his underwear from the floor. You just chuckle and follow him, but can’t seem to find your bra anywhere. “What the Hell…”, you mumble under your breath, twirling around once in a desperate attempt to locate it. “Uh. Looking for this?”, Chan asks and you follow his gaze. You both burst into loud laughter when you spot your bra happily dangling from the ceiling light. “Well, we had to be very fast yesterday evening. Clothes went flying, and quite literally it seems.”, you say, lips twitching while you stand on your tiptoes to get your bra, and Chan nods in agreement. “Very fast indeed - but we couldn’t let the others begin the movie night without us! We had valid reasons.” He grins and wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to him again, giving you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back again, expression stern. “No time for that, we have to get ready, eat breakfast and you still need to pack some of your stuff before we can leave. And we don’t want to let the others wait, right?” You sigh and pout. “No, we don’t, apparently.”, you just answer, and wiggle into your jeans and turtleneck, finally ready to leave the privacy of Chan’s room and get something to eat.

The scent of fresh coffee and pancakes greets you when you arrive downstairs, and you inhale deeply. Felix is standing in front of the stove, humming a soft tune under his breath while working on making the tower of pancakes beside him even taller. He turns around when you enter the kitchen, giving you his signature sunshine smile. “Morning, Y/N.”, he greets you, “Slept well?” You nod and peek over his shoulder. “Yup. And have I ever told you how much I love you?”, you ask, stealing a piece of pancake directly out of the pan, and Felix tries to swat your hand away before he chuckles. “Shouldn’t you say that to Chan, not to me?”, he replies, and your boyfriend, just entering the kitchen behind you, sighs deeply. “She’s an opportunist, meaning she’ll tell anyone she loves them if it means she gets what she wants, so beware. I actually rarely hear her say it to me.”, Chan says warningly, and you shoot him a dark look. “Oh shut up, that’s so not true. I tell you I love you at least once or twice a day, you needy baby.”, you grumble, and just then, Minho joins the small kitchen party. “Needy baby? You’re not talking about Hyunjin, are you?”, he asks, ruffling his crazy bed hair while filling a mug with coffee, sighing contently when he takes the first sip. You grin and shake your head, before taking a mug out of the cabinet yourself.

Said roommate also enters the kitchen just then, face looking quite puffy. You raise both eyebrows. “Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?”, you ask, and take a sip of coffee to hide your shit-eating grin. Hyunjin throws you a dark glare, and crosses both arms in front of his chest. “No. But I did have a slight mental breakdown after realizing I probably failed my last exam yesterday, so I decided to treat myself to some late-night-ramen, and now I look like this.”, he points at his face, beginning to pout, “God just hates pretty people, he’s clearly punishing me for my dashing looks.” “Or maybe he just doesn’t like narcissists.”, Jeongin offers when he enters the kitchen, shoving Minho out of the way to get to the kitchen cabinet almost overflowing with mugs. You decide it’s finally getting too crowded in the kitchen, and leave it again. You’re absolutely not a morning person, and can’t deal with the boys’ constant bickering without having experienced the positive effect of the caffeine you’re currently consuming.

Seungmin is sitting on one of the sofas, currently scrolling through Instagram and apparently trying to like every cute puppy pic in existence. “Morning.”, you greet him and take a seat beside him, peeking over his shoulder and cooing at an extremely cute baby golden retriever. Seungmin just greets you with a curt nod of his head, not being a morning person either, and keeps scrolling. Minutes later, Felix enters the living room, balancing a giant plate of fresh pancakes in front of him while all the other boys follow him like stray dogs. “What would you guys even do without Felix cooking for you all the time?”, you ask, mouth watering when you inhale the delicious smell. “Starve and die.”, Seungmin deadpans, while Jeongin answers: “We’d have to look at Hyunjin’s ugly bloated face every day because we’d solely live off ramen.” Hyunjin hits the back of his head for that, but the younger boy just shoots him his cheshire cat grin. “I mean, I could cook too, I guess.”, Chan says, frowning, and everyone bursts into loud laughter. “Wow okay, I’ll try not to take this personally…”, your boyfriend grumbles, and sits down at the dining table. You slide onto the chair next to him, and pat his thigh affectionately. “I love you, babe, but you literally didn’t know how to whisk eggs when we wanted to bake cookies last week.”, you say, and Chan sighs. “That’s... sadly fair. But I could learn!”

“No offense, but we actually like our kitchen intact - thanks for your humble offering though. If Felix should die unexpectedly, we might get back to you.”, Minho answers, and before the situation can escalate into a playful bickering battle, Felix yells “SO, WHO WANTS PANCAKES?!”, successfully managing to distract everyone.

One and a half hours later, everyone is packed and ready to go - you’ve planned this little getaway for almost two months now, everyone having finished their first round of exams at this time of year and being able to just relax for a bit. For some reason, the boys had wanted to go camping, and as you, Jisung’s girlfriend Lina and Hyunjin’s girlfriend Marie were clearly outnumbered by the boys, you hadn’t really had the chance to disagree with them. But you honestly don’t even mind, having gone camping lots of times already and just being happy to enjoy some time with your closest friends. Only Changbin won’t be able to join you guys, as he’s currently doing an internship and wasn’t able to request some time off.

Chan is just about to lock the front door to the frat house, when Jeongin zooms past you, yelling for his older roommate to wait. “I forgot something extremely important!”, he explains, almost breathless, and disappears into the house again. “What’s he getting now?”, your boyfriend wonders, and shoots you a questioning gaze. You just shrug, and let your bag fall to the ground, too lazy to hold onto it while waiting for the youngest of your group. A few minutes later, Jeongin comes back, a huge grin on his face and a giant stuffed animal in his arms. Chan blinks a few times, and opens his mouth to say something, but he gets cut off by the younger boy: “You guys can cuddle with each other, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than cuddle with Minho, Felix or Seungmin, whoever I’ll end up sharing a tent with. But I do wanna cuddle with someone, so Mr. Sunshine it is.”, he explains stoically, and you just nod in support. “I totally get that, plus I wouldn’t be too sure that Minho doesn’t just turn into a bat or something like that during the night. He’s at least part demon, we all know that.”, you say, and Jeongin giggles.

You’re truly prepared to give him anything whenever he smiles at you like this, his eyes almost disappearing, teeth almost blindingly bright. While you detain from squishing his cheeks, you do poke the dimple on his left one, being too endeared by him. He swats your hand away, of course he does, but you still bask in the victory of having poked his cheek. One thing to cross off your to-do-list for today.

“Okay, let’s go to the others.”, Chan finally says after locking the house, and without you having to say anything, he takes his and your bag and walks over to where the others are waiting beside the cars. Chivalry is not dead and you’re ready to swoon over your amazing boyfriend. “Okay, we still have to pick up Jisung, Lina and Marie.”, Chan says after he’s put your bags into the trunk of his car, “So, who’s gonna ride in which car?” “Well I obviously want to ride with Marie.”, Hyunjin says, a goofy smile on his face - they have been together for almost a year now, but he’s still very much extremely whipped for her, but luckily, she seems to feel the exact same way -, and Minho murmurs a sarcastic “Shocking, really.” under his breath. “I want Jisung and Lina in our car.”, you quickly say, and Chan gives you a short nod. Of course you’d say that - Jisung is your best friend after all, and you’ve grown quite close to Lina as well. You’re also good friends with Marie, but Jisung just wins this round - not that you’d ever tell that to his face, he’s too cocky as it is, no need to push his ego even more. “Then Minho, you take Hyunjin, Marie, Felix and Seungmin, and I take Y/N, Jisung, Lina and Jeongin, okay?”, Chan suggests, and everyone agrees. Five minutes later, all the bags are safely stored away and everyone has taken their seats. Being Chan’s girlfriend means you get to ride shotgun, something you’re more than thankful for, knowing how crowded the backseat is going to be once you’ve picked up Jisung and Lina. “See you in a bit!”, Felix yells through his open window, and flashes you his extremely cute gummy smile. You wave at him, immediately returning his smile, and successfully ignore Minho’s mock salute and cocky grin while he backs out of his parking spot, almost cutting Chan off.

Twenty minutes later, Jisung and Lina are squished into the backseat with Jeongin, all three having bright smiles on their faces. “Road trip, whoop!”, Jisung yells and gives you a high five, “Happy to have a few days with y’all before we have to face the sad reality of probably having failed most of our exams!” Lina beside him rolls her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, I’m sure most of us will have aced everything.”, she says, and Jisung wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple. “Sorry, but I have literally only one functioning brain cell and I use it to overthink.”, he explains, yelping when she playfully tickles his side. You chuckle at their bickering, and hit play on your road trip playlist - a second later, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody fills the car, all of you immediately beginning to sing along. “LET’S GO!”, Chan yells over the sad attempts of everyone trying to imitate Freddy Mercury, and backs out of the parking lot. You smile and interlace your fingers with his. He cheekily returns your smile, and raises your intertwined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. Over a year of being with him, but you still swoon over this simple yet sweet gesture. Yes, you’re just that whipped for your boyfriend, and what about it.

It doesn’t take long for you guys to arrive on the interstate, you and Jisung trying to trump each other's impressions of Beyoncé singing Single Ladies (and failing miserably, sorry Queen B). Your belly almost hurts from laughing with your friends, and you can’t wait for the rest of the weekend to begin.

Minho’s car arrives before Chan’s, and of course he’s gloating about it the second you guys join forces again. But you can let him have this small victory, and decide to just ignore him for now, helping Chan get the bags out of his car and to the campsite. It’s quite cold, the air crisp now that the sun is slowly beginning to set again, but you brought lots of blankets and sleeping bags, so you should be fine. And at least the weather means there aren’t any other campers here right now, so you have the whole area, including the washing rooms, to yourselves, which is nice.

Setting up camp takes longer than anticipated, mostly because Jisung somehow manages to crash into his and Lina’s almost finished tent twice, which means they have to start from the very beginning again. She truly has the patience of a saint, simply smacking him over the head rather playfully before picking up the sad remains of their tent to begin the whole building process again. Chan and you, having gone camping lots of times already, are quickest with finishing your tent, so afterwards you offer to help Jisung and Lina with theirs, while Chan does the same for Minho and Jeongin. Marie, an experienced scout, has set up hers and Hyunjin’s tent in record time as well, and takes pity on Felix and Seungmin, quickly building the tent for them. After an hour, your camp has successfully been built, and everyone begins to search for firewood.

Felix decides to make a giant pot of spicy chili sin carne for tonight’s dinner, and as soon as all the plates are filled, your conversations slowly dwindle down, everyone too busy with eating. “Lix, you’re a cooking genius, Gordon Ramsey found jobless.”, Marie says around a mouthful of chili, giving the blonde boy a bright smile and the thumbs up. He waves her compliment aside, blushing profoundly. “Thanks, but it’s honestly not that difficult - you just have to follow the recipe, if you’re too scared to improvise.”, he murmurs, and she throws a small piece of kindling at him. “You should really learn how to take compliments.”, she teases playfully, and he shrugs. “Okay, okay, I’m the best cook ever.”, he says sarcastically, and Minho raises one eyebrow. “Whoa, now don’t get ahead of yourself.”, he replies, and Felix smacks him over the head. “You can’t cook at all, so for once, you should just stay quiet.”, you say, and Minho sighs dramatically. “What can I say… We all have our weaknesses. I, for example, am extremely good-looking and tragically funny.”

You almost choke on your chili because of his audacity, and lift your fork in front of your face, staring through it and at Minho, who just frowns at you. “What are you doing? Why are you looking at me through your fork?”, he asks, obviously confused by your behavior, and you give him a lopsided smile. “I’m pretending you’re in jail, it’s spiritually healing.”, you explain, and Chan beside you bursts into laughter, the others following him quickly. Minho begins to pout and sticks out his tongue at you, always the mature one. “It’s okay if you don’t enjoy my dashing looks and hilarious humor, not everyone has good taste. That’s why you picked Chan over me after all.”, he claims, and you answer by throwing a piece of wood his way, making him squeal and dive for cover. Just then, the flames of your fire flicker and slowly begin to die down. Seungmin, Jeongin and Hyunjin stand up to go get some more firewood, but somehow, the latter one’s shoe gets caught between two logs and with a loud yelp, he tumbles to the ground. “What the Hell is he doing?!”, Chan groans, and Jeongin deadpans “Sadly his best.”, before he begins walking over towards his friend to help him, but Marie is faster, already dragging her boyfriend up from the ground with tears of laughter in her eyes. Hyunjin’s cheeks are red from embarrassment and he murmurs something about nature being out to get him, before he, Marie and the other two boys disappear into the forest to get more firewood.

The rest of the evening is filled with playful banter, soft guitar music from Jisung, and funny childhood stories. Lina soon begins to nod off, her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder while he continues to strum a soft tune on his guitar, humming along. When he notices his girlfriend is about to wander into Morpheus’ realm though, he’s quick to place the guitar back into its bag, and wraps both arms around her. “I think it’s time for us to retire, huh?”, he says, leaving a gentle kiss on Lina’s forehead. She blinks sleepily, and smiles up at him. “It’s pretty safe to assume that at any given moment, I want to go back to sleep - so yes, I agree, time to retire.”, she answers, and Jisung chuckles, before standing up to declare: “Well, we’re off to bed now!” Minho and Seungmin boo immediately, while Jeongin murmurs something like “Old people” under his breath - even though he’s literally only one year younger than most of you guys.

“So, as I’m legally required to kiss my homies goodnight, y’all getting some smooches!”, Jisung says, already walking towards where Hyunjin and Marie are sitting, bodies entangled and breaths mingling. Hyunjin looks up and shoots his friend a murderous look. “I swear, if you kiss me, I’m going to dump you into the river.”, he threatens, but Jisung just grins. “How about you dump your girlfriend instead and run away with me? We’d make such a pretty couple.”, he says, making Hyunjin roll his eyes. “Bro, no offense, but I’d be the pretty one in this relationship, and while everyone can clearly see you already have quite the experience being the ugly one in a relationship” with that, Hyunjin first points at Jisung and then at Lina, who bursts out laughing, “I don’t think I’m ready to hear your constant whining about my face being prettier than yours. So thanks, but no thanks, I’ll stay with Marie.” “Wow, I feel so honored and loved right now, babe.”, Marie says sarcastically, “But does this mean you think you’re the pretty one in this relationship as well?” Hyunjin goes into instant panic mode, quickly reassuring his girlfriend that she’s far prettier than him, while she tries to keep a stern expression on her face, but everyone can clearly see the way her lips twitch. She just loves teasing Hyunjin, and you honestly can’t blame her for that, especially not when it’s just so easy.

“Okay, goodnight, then!”, Lina interrupts their playful bickering, and gives everyone a soft smile, before dragging Jisung towards their tent. Everyone wishes them a good night and sweet dreams as well, and then Seungmin clears his throat. “Time for some ghost stories, don’t you think?”, he says, voice low and grin almost evil when his eyes find Hyunjin, who immediately falls silent. Everyone knows he’s a huge scaredy cat, which is quite funny seeing as his own girlfriend is a big fan of horror movies and stories. Truly a match made in Heaven. Seungmin just raises one eyebrow, expression challenging - but when no one contradicts him, he begins to tell his first ghost story.

It doesn’t take long until Hyunjin is pretty much sitting on Marie’s lap, shooting daggers at his friend while his girlfriend is trying very hard not to laugh at him. You yourself cuddle closer to your own boyfriend, smiling when he presses a soft kiss against your temple. Your eyes rest on the big bonfire, following some sparks drifting into the dark night sky from time to time, and you sigh contently. This, right here, is your happy place - in the midst of your friends, just laughing and joking with them, not a care in the world. Midterms lie behind you, and you’re currently not even thinking about your grades for once, your anxiety at rest. This trip was truly a great idea, maybe even Jisung’s best one so far.

“Okay, wanna hear a really creepy one-”, Seungmin begins, and Hyunjin has finally had enough, standing up and taking Marie’s hand into his. “Well, goodnight!”, he says, a determined expression on his face, and pulls his girlfriend towards their tent. Marie suppresses an amused smile at her boyfriend’s dramatics, and waves at everyone, before following him inside the tent. Seungmin just grins evilly and shrugs. “He’s so soft hearted.”, he then says, and leans back, obviously content with his work. “Okay, maybe it’s three demons, not only two.”, you murmur into Chan’s ear, and he chuckles. You’re always joking about Minho and Hyunjin being demons, as they’re constantly testing your nerves by just being themselves, plus they were definitely the main plotters behind the plan to get you and Chan together - not that you’re complaining about it as their plan had worked pretty perfectly and in your favor. “In the end you’ll probably find that I live with six demons.”, your boyfriend murmurs, and begins to play with your fingers. You shake your head. “Oh no, Felix is definitely an angel, not a demon.”, you disagree, and Chan nods. “Okay, that’s true. The others though… Well, time will tell, I guess.” “Or holy water.” He just laughs and gives you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back. “Later.”, he murmurs against your lips, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you shiver involuntarily. He grins at your reaction, before turning his attention to Seungmin’s new ghost story again.

You on the other hand feel hot and bothered all of the sudden, and decide to tease your boyfriend a bit. So you place your hand on his thigh, not moving it for some time, until you slowly slide it higher, bit by bit. At first, Chan doesn’t seem to notice or care, until you’re getting dangerously close to his crotch. Then, he quickly leans forward so the others can’t see what you’re doing, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”, he asks, voice low, and you smile innocently. “Nothing.”, you answer, and have finally reached your desired destination, slowly beginning to palm his semi over his jeans. “How about you be a good girl and stop?”, he breathes out, but you know he doesn’t actually want you to stop - you know him well enough for that by now. Still, you decide to play along. “Oh, I’ll gladly be your good girl.”, you whisper, and quickly withdraw your hand. He groans at your words and the sudden lack of contact, and locks eyes with you. “Tent. Now.”, he grits out, and stands up, pulling you with him and hugging you from behind so your body hides his erection from the others. “We’re tired too, so goodnight!”, he says in a fake cheerful voice, and you have to hide your shit-eating grin while innocently waving at the others. “Oh you’re in so much trouble now, babe.”, Chan murmurs into your ear while you walk towards your tent, and bites down on your lobe. You feel arousal gather between your legs, stomach jolting at his words. You and Chan have a very playful relationship, full of bantering and loving jokes, and your dynamic in the bedroom isn’t that different - there’s a lot of bickering too, you being a total brat at times, while he’s more on the dominant side, enjoying making you obedient.

As soon as he closes the tent behind you and turns around to watch you with an almost predatory gaze, you know you might have been a bit too forward at the bonfire. But it’s too late to back down now, so you simply raise both eyebrows, a challenging expression on your face. “So you think touching me like that in front of our friends is okay?”, Chan asks, his voice low and dark. You tilt your head to one side. “I mean, you didn’t seem opposed to it, to be honest.”, you answer, and now he’s the one to lift both eyebrows. “I want you out of your clothes, now.”, your boyfriend orders, and for once, you follow his command immediately, knowing this is for your own good this time. So you quickly wiggle out of your jeans and take off your jumper, shivering in the cold night air. Only left in your panties and bra, Chan smirks to himself, before crawling over your body and beginning to kiss you slowly. You gasp into his mouth when one of his warm hands finds your waist, drawing lazy circles against it, before traveling higher to cup your breast over your bra. His thumb rubs over your clothed nipple before pinching it, hard, and you arch your back, breath hitching.

“So, let’s see how quiet you can stay while I eat you out, hm? Remember, the walls of the tent are too thin to mask any noises.”, Chan whispers against your lips, before he suddenly descends down your body. Oh no, you know you’re screwed. He’ll try to make you scream his name, but while you’re quite open about sex and have no problem talking about it with your friends, you definitely don’t need them to hear you during the actual act. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased your boyfriend after all - but it’s too late now, he’s determined. He spreads your legs, and begins to leave soft love bites on the inside of your thighs. You’re trembling already, and it’s not because of the cold alone. Chan always has this effect on you, no matter how often he touches you - you’ll never get used to it. He plays with the hem of your panties, until he finally drags them down your legs, his warm breath hitting your wet core. You begin to squirm, impatient to have him finally touch you where you need him most. He smacks your thigh, the crack resounding through the tent, and you yelp. “Chan.”, you hiss, and he grins cheekily, before suddenly pressing his thumb to your clit, beginning to draw lazy circles against it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you clamp one hand over your mouth to mask any noises.

Chan soon replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking on your clit like his life depends on it while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside your heat. A loud moan tears from your lips and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle your noises but already failing miserably. You feel Chan smirk against you, and then, he slips a third finger inside you, curling them upwards and picking up the pace. You buck your hips against his gentle ministrations, skin feeling too hot and too tight already, goosebumps rising all over your body. It doesn’t take long until you begin to tremble, your high approaching rather quickly, and you’re this close to finally snapping, when Chan draws back from your core, face glistening with your juices, his smirk almost devilish. “I can’t hear you, babe, are you even enjoying this?”, he murmurs, back to drawing lazy patterns on your clit with his thumb. You feel frustration wash over you, and shoot him a dark glare. His grin gets even wider, before he completely withdraws his hand from your heat to suck on his glistening fingers. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather your wits, until Chan slaps your thigh again. “Look at me, baby.”, he says, voice dark, and your eyes snap open again. You begin to pout. “Please.”, you mumble, trying your best to appeal to his softer side, “I’m sorry I was a brat earlier. You know I can’t be loud or the others might hear us.” Your boyfriend just hums, hands ghosting over your thighs and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Too bad, I guess you can’t cum tonight then.” And before you’re able to reply anything, he dives back in-between your folds.

You throw one arm over your mouth, and bite your own soft flesh to suppress any noises. It takes little to no time until you’re close to your orgasm again, but for the second time tonight, Chan draws back in the last possible second. You’re almost ready to cry with frustration now, eyes glistening with unshed tears. When your boyfriend sees this, he softens a bit and leans towards you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “This is what you get for being a brat.”, he murmurs, and you bite down on his lower lip, making him groan into your mouth. “Please.”, you whisper and try your best puppy eyes on him. He just smirks again, finally ridding himself off his shirt, jeans and underwear. When he’s fully naked in front of you, you sigh, eyes raking his beautiful, defined body. Unlike you, Chan actually enjoys going to the gym - and his effort pays off. “Stop drooling.”, he says, sounding way too pleased and cocky in your opinion. So you quickly sit up, and wrap one hand around his hard cock, already leaking with pre-cum. Good to see you’re not the only one being affected by this, you think and grin. You begin to slowly jerk him off, spreading the pre-cum over the rest of his cock as lube. He groans, lower lip pulled back between his teeth and eyes almost black with desire. Finally, he’s had enough, and pushes you on your back again, hovering over you. “There’s condoms in the bag behind you.”, he murmurs, leaving gentle kisses on your neck until he finds your sweet spot, beginning to suck on it. You moan almost inaudible, fingers fumbling for said bag to retrieve a condom.

Just seconds later, Chan rolls it over his cock, and then, he aligns himself in front of your wet core, teasingly rubbing your clit before you shoot him a pleading look. He finally sheathes himself into you with one swift motion, and you both moan out loud at the feeling. You quickly cough to cover the noise, making Chan chuckle and press a kiss against your forehead. “You’re okay?”, he asks, and you nod, biting down on his neck and leaving a hickey. He groans and finally begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, immediately hitting that spot. Your fingers wrap around his biceps, needing something to hold onto while he drills into you. Suddenly, he pulls out of you to sit back on his knees, wrapping your legs around his hips, and thrusts back into you at an even deeper angle, simultaneously picking up the pace. One of his hands snakes towards your neck and he wraps his fingers around the base of your throat, using just enough pressure to make breathing harder for you. When his thumb begins to circle your clit again, you close your eyes, clamping one hand over your mouth to mask your almost obscene noises.

“C-Chan, I’m so c-close.”, you say in between two moans, and he grins, murmuring a “That’s my girl” under his breath before deepening the angle even more. He suddenly pinches your clit once, and that’s all it takes for you to finally tumble over the edge, his name leaving your lips maybe a bit too loud this time. He quickly leans forward to seal your mouth with his, chasing his own high while guiding you through yours. Not long after, he groans and presses his forehead against yours, shuddering a bit while releasing into the condom. He stills inside you, both your breaths mingling, hearts beating fast while you try to come down from your high. Chan smiles, brushing some of your hair out of your face, and gives you a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you.”, he murmurs, and you return his smile. “Love you more.”, you whisper back, and he chuckles. “Impossible.”

Before you can begin to playfully argue, Minho’s voice cuts through the night “Next time we’ll build the tents far away from each other, y’all are nasty for doing it with us sitting almost right next you.” Both you and Chan freeze, before you burst out laughing. “WE HAVE ZERO REGRETS.”, you yell back, hearing the others groan. “WELL, YOU REALLY SHOULD THOUGH!”, Jisung complains from somewhere to your left, and you hear Lina starting to giggle. You groan and bury your face into Chan’s neck. “They’ll never let us hear the end of this, will they.”, you murmur against his soft skin, and he shakes his head. “Nope.” You sigh and lean back. “Well, it was still worth it.”, you say, and grin up at him. Your boyfriend just smirks and leans down to kiss you again. “Oh, definitely.”

[masterlist] | [requests]

263 notes · View notes

nikrangdan · 3 years

Text

photographer!ni-ki

pairing: photographystudent!ni-ki x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, comedy

description: every time you went to the park you noticed a mysterious boy who would take pictures of the scenery on his cute little camera. you liked to see what he’d take pictures of from afar but one day you noticed his camera pointing straight at.. you

for ni-ki’s bday!!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE <33 sorry i posted a day late but i hope u all enjoy!

———

“y/n!”

you groan before getting out of your bed at 10am

it was a saturday why was your mom yelling at u ..

you walked into the kitchen all sluggishly and rubbed your eyes

“you need to start taking suki on walks to the park. you need the exercise too.” your mom doesn’t even spare u a glance before walking out the door to run some errands

right

u forgot u were taking care of ur cousins dog while he was out of town... her name was suki

shes a little shiba inu AND SHES THE CUTEST THING EVER!!!!

WELP

u dont even have a choice anymore

u got somewhat ready before heading out with suki in your arms

shes so soft and fluffy

though u dont like to admit it, u kinda agreed with ur mom about u needing to exercise and get out the house

you’ve been cooped up in your room for days with no social or nature interaction

the park was about a 10 minute drive from ur house

and it was actually a really pretty park...

there was a lake and really pretty flowers everywhere and alot of gazebos and benches

and a nice open field of greenery

it basically looked like a park out of a movie

so you weren’t suprised that there was a decent amount of people there

but not too much thankfully.. or else you would’ve driven to another park with less people

you got out the car with suki and put her on the leash

let the walking begin!!!!

it was a really nice day out... the sun was shining but it wasnt too hot or cold

you led her onto the sidewalk and she began sniffing at the grass around her

whenever a few people would pass they would coo at how adorable she was

it wasnt until 5 minutes later that ur eyes locked onto a figure infront of the lake

you were just walking with suki in silence.. admiring the scenery

until u caught sight of a boy

u could only see his back but u noticed the camera over his shoulder

he was standing in one of those photographer poses where like one leg is bent and kind of out while his back is hunched to get that perfect angle of a shot

he was infront of the sidewalk railings where the lake begins and he was taking photos of the scenery across from it

it was a beautiful sight honestly

there was another sidewalk but behind it was colorful trees and blossoming flowers and bushes

u understood why he’d take pictures of it

you didnt see his face but u kind of acknowledged the boy before walking past him with suki

basically thinking he was just another passerby that you noticed making a single appearance in your life and never expecting to see him again

OH BOY U WERE WRONG

the next time you see him is 3 days later at the same park

you were walking suki again but this time at 7pm after dinner

the sun was almost done setting so the sky was getting darker but there was still a hint of the orange circle peeking from below

this time you walked further down the sidewalk path towards the scattered gazebos

and you noticed the same boy again

this time he was sat in one of the gazebos with his tiny camera in his hands

his back was hunched over again and he was looking closely at the pictures he had taken

‘oh its him again’ u thought

and that was it

LOL

u just acknowledged him in ur head AGAIN before u thought nothing of it and continued ur walk with suki

so the NEXT time u saw him was another 2 days later at 7pm again

you wanted to take suki on a quick walk

but you got tired after like 10 minutes so you sat down on a blanket u brought

suki was just laying next to u while u were on ur phone

it wasnt fully dark out yet and there was still a few people in the park

the fairy lights that were placed around were lit up already

it was super pretty and the weather was nice

after staring at ur phone for a few mins u looked up just to look around

and u saw Him again

wow

why do u keep seeing him !?!?!

his back was faced towards u like always

and he was like 40 feet away from u so he looked so tiny

but u could tell it was him because of his blond hair and black coat he always wore

you kind of zoned out and unfortunately ur eyes were trained on his back without u even noticing

and he

turned

around

for the first time EVER!!!!

its like he sensed someone staring at him

but yes he turned around with his camera in his hand

the first thing u noticed was that he got a new camera

it was a larger black one

definitely more expensive

Awe good for him!!!!!

and then u glanced up to see his face

and u made EYE CONTACT

u looked away so fast

because

He was SO CUTE.............

u awkwardly started looking to your left and tried turning ur face away from him

‘oh look at those beautiful um... birds.. yeah’

hopefully he didnt notice

*nervously sweats*

u didnt dare look back in that direction so u spent the rest of your evening in the park on ur phone or playing with suki

eventually it reached 8pm so u packed up ur stuff and went home

U were still kind of thinking about that boy....

so u were like

i need to go back

and u did Lol

u went back the next day at 6pm this time with suki

it was lighter out and the sky was beautiful

perfect for a certain boy to be taking photos

*evil laugh*

u were walking for like 15 minutes and u didnt see him anywhere :((((

the one time u go there for HIM

u settled down under a tree

suki immediately went on the blanket when u sat down too

you played tug of war with her and fed her some treats while playing

playing with her for 10 minutes straight definitely tired u out so u laid down and just stared at the sky

it was a faded blue turning into orange and pink

U were kinda bored so u sat up and started petting suki

you would occasionally glance up at the strangers walking past u

and

let me tell u what Happened..

u looked up at another lady walking her dog and went like

‘aweee that dog is so cute’ in ur head

and u took ur eyes off the dog and glanced to ur right

idk bc u felt like it

AND GUESS WHAT U SEE???!??????

THE BOY

LIKE 20 FEET AWAY

STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FIELD

AND HE HAD HIS CAMERA UP TO HIS FACE

and it WAS POINTED AT U ??!?!

as soon as u looked in his direction he jumped and put his hands down

he like

Blushed????? and awkwardly smiled u know rubbing the neck and all that

he was embarrassed

ur cheeks were turning so red

BUT HE WAS SO ADORABLE

was kind of weird.... stalkerish but um

he cleared that up BECAUSE

He started walking over to u

he was wearing black jeans that were ripped on the knees with black high top converse

and a gray sweater with a black coat over it

HE JUST LOOKED CUTE OK

ur were like OMg []£{€]%[#{%€]£{

n he just Plop

he stood right infront of u basically towering bc u were sitting under the tree

suki noticed the boy and tilted her head like hmmmm???

u had the SMALLEST smile on ur face bc u wanted to seem friendly but not TOO friendly

he had his camera strap over his arm while he held it and his other hand was rubbing the name of his neck

“uh... sorry about that.. i didn’t mean to seem weird or anything!” he waved his hands infront of him to deny it

u just sat there while he talked like ❤️_❤️

“im uh taking photos for my class and i thought u looked nice so i took some pictures.. im really sorry i should’ve asked first now i seem weird or something im really-,”

u cut him off so he didnt ramble any longer

“no its okay! i get it” you gave him a warm smile and pet suki while she drifted to your side and kept her eyes on him

u both just stared at eachother for a few seconds before you spoke

“um.. would you like to sit?” you scooted over and made room for him in the blanket

WOW U WERE FEELING BOLD TODAY...

“uh sure” he set his camera down and sat beside u

“this is suki.. shes my cousins dog” u said when she climbed into his lap and started sniffing him

he grinned and pet her before looking up at you

“im ni-ki by the way” his cheeks turned a bit pink which u thought was cute

“y/n” you smiled

“suki seems to like you” u laughed

“so how long have you been working on this project or whatever?”

“oh um i started last week... i just have to make a portfolio of photos i take and turn it in” he said while keeping his eyes trained on suki

u noticed he didnt make eye contact with u often but u knew it was probably because he was nervous because u do that too

“can i see the pictures...?” u hesitantly ask him

his eyes light up when u say that

“yeah!”

AWE HES SO EXCITED

he picks up his camera next to him and clicks a few buttons

“oh by the way... ive noticed u at the park before! you’re always with the camera” you laugh

“ah yeah, this park is where most of my project photos are taken.”

he leans over and shows you the pictures on the device

“woah” you let out a gasp

he showed u the picture he took of you first

How does a picture look better than real life...

you’ve never really been into photography but now that you’ve seen his work u might just have to start getting into it

“this isnt even done yet, i still have to edit it so it’ll look even more perfect” he shyly says

“this is amazing what the heck” your jaw is Dropped

“thanks”

“i need to see the final result” u said because it was such a nice picture

“um.. if you give me your number i can show you it” he sent you a cheeky grin

SMOOTH.....

he was so AGGGHGGHG ur kind of obsessed

you two exchange numbers and talk about random things for a whole hour until he says he has to go

“it was really nice meeting you.. i had fun” he tells you as he starts standing up

suki is sleeping so he tries not to wake her up

“i had fun too” you smile

“would you like me to walk you to your car?”

A GENTLEMAN !!?!?!?!

“oh yeah, thanks”

you two spend another 2 minutes together as you walk side by side with suki in your arms and he held your blanket and bag for you

you reached your car and thanked him

“ill see you soon, dont forget to text me! and good luck on the project, i know you’ll do great”

“thank you..”

ni-ki’s cheeks turn pink once more before he turns around and starts walking away with a smile on his face

he is just the cutest thing ever

you definitely need to see him again

194 notes · View notes

threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

Text

Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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avalonmoonshinesstuff · 3 years

Note

Sirius or Remus?

Dear Noony,

I have no context (and way too many ask games to check which one this is about) so I'll make this a long-ass post because I just have ✨ thoughts ✨ on these characters.

The topics are:

Who do I ship more with Severus.

Who do I see becoming friends with Severus.

Which character do I prefer more.

Who would win in a fight.

Who would I choose for myself.

Who would I write in my next fanfic.

Who do I see myself getting along with.

Whose counterpart is cooler.

Conclusion.

Who do I ship more with Severus: Now, although I like a good Snupin (love it when Moony recognizes Severus as it's mate), it's Snack/Snirius that steals my heart. It just has that perfect level of angst, enemies to lovers, and love angles (not triangles, I usually dislike them, thanks). Hate sex is amazing too, and the fiction is beautiful. And the weird tingling that the fighting seems like flirting in the back of their minds. And when they're both mutually pining but they think that it's unrequited. And more.

Also, yes, Remus may be more wholesome and might give Sev some therapy (after he gets some himself, of course) but I can't ship a relationship that may have a NPC that's being too giving and a replacement for therapy. Trust me, Remus would drop Sev because of how much he hates himself not being there for him as therapy.

Who do I see becoming friends with Severus: Remus, tbh, even though I'd like to say Sirius. Sirius has an irrational dislike for Severus from the start, while I think Remus just went along with his friends. He's the flow in the moment kind of person (I'm pretty sure he's a February Pisces) and they are kind of NPC characters or they believe they are. Obviously, Remus has to stop having NPC syndrome for him to actually move on from his prejudice against Severus and SEVERELY beg for forgiveness if he wants to be on friendly terms with Severus. Severus (in my opinion) has the capacity to forgive people with time and convincing (as I imagine is the case with McGonagall, who used to favor her Marauders). And Remus has the capacity to work really hard for a goal (as we see when he is spying in the Werewolf camp), to the point that people start questioning his loyalty.

When we see Remus go back to his pregnant wife (I hope he did, I can't remember)... We know that Remus can get over all this and try, at the very least, to be Severus' friend.

Which character do I prefer more: I'd love to say that I prefer none of these because I usually do but... I like Sirius more than Remus (not that I hate Remus). As a Pisces Rising, I get that Remus wanted friends and that he had a serious hindrance stopping him, but the fact that even after everyone is dead and gone... He doesn't reevaluate what he thought of Severus really shows. His behavior towards him, his first lesson, the way he minimized what James and Sirius did even after so long really shows that Remus is very comfortable and in love with the position he is in. I get that its easy to not think critically, but Remus was in a position to bring change. You see, after the job was gone, and Harry came to him asking about James' bullying... Remus should have really taken the chance to talk positively about a fellow order member that Harry would be trusting his life onto (if not for Severus, for Harry's mental health because he was trusting Sev with his life). When I realized that Remus was a Pisces, I felt very offended because I would never not use the power I had for some good (he was prefect) and I couldn't imagine life being as passive and unchanged as Remus was. I guess, in the end, I kinda dislike him for personal reasons... I mean, did this fictional character have to be a Pisces??

No shade on Sirius, I actually do like him, and it's not completely based on how much I kind of dislike Remus. Remus is a gray character and Sirius is the kind of gray that's closer to black. But I love him for it because he didn't have any leadership roles (except as Harry's godfather) that he completely fucked up. Sirius does show change, minimal though it is, he really does. As a teen, he believed in complete evil and complete good. He desperately tried to be completely good, who was James ig. He did become mini James but as an adult, he kind of realizes that James isn't completely good. Obviously, his hate towards Severus is still there; he's still the bully. However, I do think that his redemption from that role was set up when he says that line "the world isn't divided into good people and death eaters". I think (?) this is said around Regulus' sacrifice was found so it was mostly applying to Regulus and not Severus for Sirius. But, in my opinion, Regulus is the appetizer for Severus' redemption. And! Sirius told Harry that he never thought Severus could actually become a death eater, so this feeling multiplies. I see amazing Snirius happening Post war (whether they survive or not doesn't matter, they can get together in the afterlife for all I care). Sirius being the elder brother, having all responsibility on his head, and him breaking through them is really cool (although he didn't break away from two stereotypes: crazy and dark/dark gray). Him never feeling remorse is scary af but brief moments before his death, I did see some spark of redemption there. Above that, more than 10 years of isolation and prison does drive people mad, okay? This man needs some serious therapy (I think I also project some of my BPD onto him).

So, in the end, I like Severus only (I almost never need to project onto him because he's that good) and barely tolerate the others 😅.

Who would win in a fight: My man Remus, plz, he'd win anyday. He did, against Sirius, in canon (POA).

Who would I choose for myself?: Neither for sex, Sirius as my slave coz he'd hate it. (He's fictional) I have a gf so I'm happy everywhere else. All I want is a good slave 🤣. Also, dogs are cool, lol.

Who would I write in my next fanfic?: I have two planned already, but I think I want to write some Severus x male!Reader with background Severus x Remus (onesided, atm).

Who do I see myself getting along with: Neither, really, because I would think that Sirius is too much and Remus too NPC. I do think that I'd be acquainted with Remus because we love libraries and chocolate but our interests would vastly differ and I think it's weird trying to talk to someone new when in a library.

Whose counterpart is cooler: I was going to go with Remus, and I'm still going to go with Renus. I do see the potential in Sirius (change at your will) but from a medical perspective, and muggle too, Remus is way cooler. Potion-making barely (if ever) needs magic and that's what the muggles have. Becoming a Lycanthrope doesn't require a magical core (as far as I'm concerned). Lycanthropy is the kind of magic that muggles are familiar with, a moon-blessed-craziness (it's well documented). If muggles research, they can find a way to make transformations completely painless etc. Muggles can be Lycanthropes but not Animagi so Remus is definitely cooler.

Conclusion: Wow, that was long! Okay, in the end, I think they were both complex characters who each had their redeemable qualities. Gray af, too, as most of HP characters are. Too bad, I only like Sev and those who I think matches well with him (he is the bar and if anyone is beneficial to him, only then will I like them).

It's the mentally ill character for me!! Sirius wins!!

Thanks so much for asking and if I didn't cover any part, feel free to ask some more!! Or even if you want more elaborations 😌

#pro snape #remus lupin critical #sirius black critical #fair warning #Severus is the bar against whom I judge all other characters #severus snape #personal #i guess?#ask #ask response #ask wasn't specific so I had fun #snape #hp #severussnape #apparently #siri wins??

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sociallyawkward--fics · 3 years

Text

Last Christmas

Here it is, lol. The fic I wrote last night with Wham!’s “Last Christmas” on repeat for literally Three Hours Straight lol. It is entirely unedited except for me having a friend read it over briefly and them go “you’re missing a period here” and nothing else lol. Please be kind though, I have not written for months and any Christmas fics I’m posting are more just warm-ups to get me back to the level of writing I was before I accidentally took a break, cuz no way I’m jumping back into my Big Projects without getting myself back up to par lol

ALSO, I know Jaskier seems like,,, really aggressive towards Yen in this fic. She's not meant to be a villain! Jaskier just is jealous and sad so he takes it out on her a little bit, which is definitely not the right thing to do but I think it's a very human thing to do. After this I imagine them going for coffee or smth and just lovingly trash-talking Geralt and realizing "wow we can actually be decent friends" lol

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

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types; Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game); The Witcher (TV); Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski

Relationship: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Triss Merigold; Zoltan Chivay; Iorveth (The Witcher); Eskel (The Witcher); Vernon Roche

Additional Tags: eskel triss iorveth and roche are barely-there btw; Jealous Jaskier | Dandelion; Mistletoe; Getting Together; Misunderstandings; Miscommunication; Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg; Alcohol; Drinking; Smoking; (very briefly) - Freeform; Communication; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings; Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia; Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings; Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion; Mutual Pining; Kissing; Hugs; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Holidays; Christmas; Christmas Party

Word Count: 3614 words

[ao3 link]

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

It took an embarrassing amount of time for Jaskier to work up the courage to leave his car. Instead he sat there, heat off and car growing increasingly frosty, forehead against the steering wheel as he bemoaned his own very existence. He did not want to go to this party, which was very out of character for him.

But Jaskier couldn’t take another repeat of last year’s holiday party. And he knew the second he saw Geralt, he would be back there again.

They had both been decently tipsy, which was their first mistake, but Jaskier knew that neither of them were drunk. That’s why he had been so shocked when Geralt made the first move, pressing him up against the wall to the men’s room and ravishing his mouth. They’d gone home together to Jaskier’s flat and had a wonderful night together, but Geralt had been gone come morning.

They never spoke of that night. And by the next week, Geralt had been back in his on-again, off-again relationship with Yennefer.

Jaskier thought he’d gotten over it. As much as he didn’t regret it, it was clear that Geralt did, and he wasn’t going to push his feelings onto the man when they were so clearly unwanted. It was a miracle their friendship survived it, with how testy they had been with each other for weeks afterward.

Jaskier took a deep breath and tightened his scarf around his neck, finally leaving his car to make his way into the hotel ballroom that Foltest had booked for the night. At least their work holiday parties weren’t held in the offices, Jaskier wouldn’t have been able to force himself back to work after last year if they were.

Jaskier’s traitorous eyes immediately sought out Geralt the moment he walked in. He wasn’t hard to find, with his striking silver hair and refusal to wear anything but black. He stuck out like a sore thumb, in the sea of red and green and gold. But god, did he look good. Unfortunately, he was already occupied with the only other person in the room who refused to wear color: Yennefer.

Jaskier forced his eyes away, directing them instead towards the makeshift bar. Zoltan was already there, and, judging by the red on his cheeks, already several drinks in. Jaskier couldn’t exactly judge. He was going to need quite a few drinks to get through this night as well.

“Good old Dandelion!” Zoltan crowed as he approached, words only slightly slurred.

“Zoltan,” Jaskier greeted with an easy smile, nodding at the bartender. “When are you ever going to give up on that silly nickname?”

Zoltan snorted. “You’re the one who calls himself a flower, Julian.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Soon enough, Jaskier had a drink in his hand and an earful of Zoltan’s voice, accent only growing thicker and harder to understand the drunker he got. He was barely following what Zoltan was talking about, anymore. Something about his ex father-in-law’s business tanking? He seemed rather pleased by it, in any case. Jaskier probably would be to, if he wasn’t still so anxious.

“What’s got a stick up yer ass?” Zoltan asked after a while, winding down from his latest story.

“Just… not in a partying mood, I suppose.”

Zoltan laughed uproariously. “You? Not in a party mood? Never thought I’d see the day!”

Jaskier gave a half-hearted smile, knowing Zoltan was too far gone to notice that fact, and let his eyes wander the crowd. After a few drinks, he was beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy. The idea of lasting out the party was actually beginning to feel manageable, though he still felt like giving Yennefer and Geralt a wide berth. They always exploded at these things, and Jaskier didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that.

Again.

That was one fight their friendship almost hadn’t survived, and it was the worst six months of Jaskier’s life. And that was including the past twelve months after the last holiday party.

“Come on, Dandelion,” Zoltan said, and Jaskier’s attention was drawn back to the bar. “Sit down for a game of cards with me! Or perhaps a round of dice?”

Jaskier laughed, his first true laugh of the night. “I know better than to gamble with you, old friend. It’s about time I mingled, don’t you think? Give the masses what they desire.”

Zoltan laughed again and gave him a sloppy wink. “Go get ‘em, tomcat. I’ll find some other poor fool to swindle.”

Jaskier grinned. “I don’t doubt it.”

Jaskier slipped away from the bar and into the crowd. He greeted people with hugs and kisses on the cheek, making them laugh and shove him away with teasing grins. He twirled between groups of people in a carefully perfected dance, muscle memory even with the alcohol in his system.

Unfortunately, that muscle memory rather quickly led him to Geralt’s current circle of companions. Yennefer and Triss were there, clearly making an intense effort to not be at each other’s throats. Eskel was there, which wasn’t surprising: as much as a sweetheart as he was, Eskel’s social skills definitely needed some development, and he tended to use Jaskier and Geralt as a social crutch (despite the fact that his brother was even worse with people than he was). Iorveth and Vernon Roche were on opposite sides of the little circle the group had formed, and Jaskier dreaded that disaster waiting to happen.

Really, how did Geralt attract such dramatic people to him so easily?

Despite how suddenly off-kilter Jaskier felt being so close to Geralt, last year flashing through his mind, he knew he couldn’t show it. Geralt would notice, and then it would be awkward for them both, and Jaskier would never forgive himself for ruining Geralt’s Christmas two years in a row.

So he flitted around the group, being his charming self. His smile felt forced as he gave Iorveth and Roche (very awkward) one-armed hugs. His stomach churned as he kissed Triss on the cheek. His balance felt off as he waltzed into Eskel’s arms for one of his patented bear hugs (though that was likely the alcohol, now that he thought about it).

“How is it that you’re already drunk, Jaskier?” Geralt said as Jaskier pulled out of Eskel’s arms.

Jaskier shot him a cheeky grin. “Not drunk, my dear--friend. My dear friend. Merely tipsy.”

“With a stutter like that forming?” Yennefer teased, holding out her hand.

Jaskier indulged her dramatics and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles, chest burning white hot all the while. His smile was probably slightly too-sharp when he stood back up again, but he couldn’t be bothered to fix it.

“The heavier side of tipsy, perhaps,” Jaskier replied, smoothly sliding in beside Geralt to drape himself over Geralt’s shoulders.

A chorus of titters and chuckles went through the circle and Jaskier furrowed his brow. He rubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair, searching for imperfections but finding none. He then looked toward Geralt for an explanation, but the poor man looked just as confused as Jaskier was.

“Aren’t you wondering why none of us were standing all that close to Geralt?” Triss asked, that coy smile Jaskier was all-too-familiar with making its way onto her lips.

And now that she mentioned that, it was odd. Yennefer was usually glued to Geralt’s other side, and Triss was almost always trying to butt her way in. Her jealousy tended to be a great deal more obvious than Jaskier’s, deliberately trying to provoke the two of them. Jaskier simply got drunk and wrote songs about unrequited love, he knew better than to try and put himself between them.

Roche rolled his eyes as Jaskier and Geralt still just stared at the group rather dumbly. He pointed upwards and their eyes followed his finger.

Geralt, very unfortunately, was halfway into a doorway. Taped to the top of the frame of said doorway was a little sprig of green. Jaskier felt his heart stop. He had to swallow to keep the bile from rising up in his throat. He pulled away from where he was leaning on Geralt. The group was still laughing and teasing good-naturedly, but Jaskier felt like his world was crashing down around him. He looked toward Eskel for help, being the kindest of the group.

Only Eskel just shrugged with a grin. “It is tradition.”

“Oh come on, now,” Yennefer said, her voice twisting around Jaskier’s throat like a noose. “We’re all adults here. Just get it over with.”

Jaskier slowly met Geralt’s eyes. He was impossible to read, even moreso than normal, and Jaskier felt that familiar pit open up in his stomach. He needed to get this over with and then smoothly make his escape. Perhaps claim he’d had more to drink than he thought and needed to call a cab.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked quietly, barely more than a whisper.

Jaskier gave him a small smile and leaned forward. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the scruff of Geralt’s cheek before pulling away, his heart not able to take much more than that.

Jaskier couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes as he walked away.

Jaskier’s kiss was a barely-there peck to the cheek. Before Geralt could even hope to respond, he was gone.

The group’s teasing had quieted down, and Geralt dared to look up. Iorveth and Roche seemed confused, not close enough to the rest of the group to be caught up on the drama. Eskel seemed torn between beating himself up and beating Geralt up. Triss seemed guilty.

And Yennefer was just smug.

Geralt found himself grinding his teeth. Of course she was behind this (though it was clear that Triss had some hand in it, as well). Their most recent breakup, for once, had been amicable. The past few years had been hell for them, trying to make their relationship work even though they both knew it was never going anywhere. Jaskier was Yennefer’s last straw.

Geralt was more horrified that Yennefer had so easily picked up on his feelings for Jaskier than hurt by the breakup. If she had picked up on them, then surely Jaskier had?

Is that what that hauntingly sad smile Jaskier gave him before he kissed him was for? Did Jaskier pity him? Was he trying to let Geralt down easy?

“Go after him,” she said simply.

“Yen, this isn’t one of your games--”

“No,” she replied, voice suddenly terse. “So stop treating it like one and act like an adult, Geralt. I think we’ve all had quite enough of you two being like this, and it only got worse after last year’s party.”

“Which you still won’t talk about,” Triss chimed in, raising an eyebrow.

“So go talk to him.”

Geralt resisted the urge to growl. “Fine.”

Jaskier wasn’t hard to find, when you knew him as well as Geralt did. He liked to be high up when he was upset, saying it made him feel like he was getting some perspective on his problems. Geralt liked to joke that it was because he was more at home with his head in the clouds.

Jaskier was on a balcony overlooking the city, a pack of cigarettes sitting on the railing. A lit one rested between his fingers, the smoke curling into the air and entwining with the condensation trailing from his lips thanks to the cold air.

“I thought you quit,” Geralt said quietly.

Jaskier turned his head, not far enough to face Geralt but far enough to let Geralt see the wry half smile on his lips.

“You know how the holidays are,” Jaskier replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette and turning back to the cityscape.

Geralt moved forward to lean against the railing next to him, letting out a heavy sigh and watching the white vapor twist into the air. He didn’t know how to have this conversation. Between the two of them, Jaskier was by far the more emotionally intelligent one. With him shutting down like this, Geralt didn’t know what to say.

“Are you… okay?”

Jaskier snorted. “Yeah, Geralt. I’m great.”

Geralt considered the words for a few moments, turning around the tone of voice in his head. “Sarcasm,” he decided.

It was much easier to decipher when he himself was using it, rather than try to pick out when others were.

Jaskier sighed, hanging his head. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Geralt shook his head. “What’s going on?”

Jaskier took another drag of his cigarette. “Nothing, Geralt. Don’t worry about it.”

Geralt let out a frustrated growl, not sure how else to express himself in the moment. He snatched the pack of cigarettes off the railing (breathing out a sigh of relief when only one was missing -- the one between Jaskier’s fingers) and ripped the lit one out of Jaskier’s hand, tossing both items over the edge of the balcony.

“What the fuck, Geralt?!”

Geralt stared at him. “You told me last time you quit to not let you start up again.”

Jaskier groaned and put his head into his hands. “Shit. I did, didn’t I?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative.

“Aside from saving my lungs, was there something you needed, Geralt?”

Geralt leaned back against the railing, clasping his hands together. “To know what’s had you acting so weird all night.”

He felt Jaskier’s eyes on him, could see him staring out of his peripheral, but Geralt kept his eyes on the lights of the city. With all the light pollution, it was probably as close to stars as they would get without driving out to the mountains.

“You really want to know?” Jaskier asked eventually, his voice low.

“Yes.”

“Tonight I was pressured into kissing the man that broke my heart, about a year ago now.”

Geralt flinched back, finally looking over toward Jaskier. Jaskier was still staring at him, his blue eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark of the balcony.

“Who--Who broke--”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow, face remaining impassive.

Geralt hesitated. “I broke your heart?”

Jaskier sighed and turned away, looking toward the horizon. “Last holiday party, we went home together. We made love for hours. I told you I cared for you deeply. And when I woke up, you were gone.”

Geralt wanted to say something, wanted to defend himself, but his voice felt like it was glued in his throat, unable to escape.

“Barely any time had passed before you were back in Yennefer’s pocket, not a thought given to us. And we never talked about it.”

Geralt swallowed. “I didn’t realize--”

Jaskier threw his hands up in the air, a frustrated laugh escaping his lips. Geralt’s frown deepened when he saw Jaskier’s eyes glistening.

“Didn’t realize what, Geralt? I thought I was being pretty obvious about the fact that I’m in love with you!”

“Yennefer and I broke up,” Geralt said, deciding to tackle the topic he knew how to talk about first.

Jaskier snorted, leaning his back against the railing and crossing his arms. “What else is new?”

Geralt shook his head. “For good, this time.”

Jaskier only stared at him. Geralt huffed out a breath as he searched for his words, running a hand through his hair.

“You know how… Sometimes, you can have a great friendship with each other, but when you try to date you end up being really toxic and horrible to each other? That’s me and Yen.”

“Could’ve told you that three years ago. Oh wait, I did.”

Geralt sighed. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t listen, Jask. I just… I wanted it to work so bad, we both did. Even though we knew it never would.”

Jaskier looked down at his feet. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping like that.”

“It’s okay.”

Jaskier looked back up at him. “So what was the final nail in the coffin? What sealed the deal for you two?”

Geralt looked away, choosing a specific building to look at and staring at it intensely. His fingers itched to fiddle with something, but he forced them to stay still, clenching the freezing metal of the railing.

“I love Yen. But she and I both realized that I would never love her as much as I loved you.”

The silence stretched on for far too long and Geralt could feel his skin prickling with anxiety. His throat felt like it had swollen shut, making it difficult to breathe and impossible to get any words out. He wanted to look at Jaskier, see his reaction, but his body was locked in place.

“And if you love me so much, Geralt,” Jaskier said, his voice even more icy than the balcony railing leeching the warmth from his fingers, “why did you leave me?”

Geralt gave into the urge to fidget, reaching up for the pendant on his chest. His fingers were clumsy and numb from the cold, making him fumble, but the action was still soothing.

“I didn’t realize you meant it. Jaskier, you flirt with everyone. You’ve probably slept with half the company, and while I don’t judge you for that, I couldn’t help but feel like I was just the next notch in your bedpost.”

Jaskier dropped his face into his hands. “God, Geralt, I only slept with most of those people to try and get over you. You had Yennefer, and I was just me. I knew you would never choose me over her.”

“I am now.”

Jaskier stayed silent for a moment. “And if I decide that it’s too late?”

There was an uncomfortable burning feeling behind Geralt’s eyes and he did his best to push it back down.

“Then I would respect your decision, and hope we could still be friends come tomorrow. I don’t want to lose you, Jask.”

Jaskier didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I’m sorry I was so blind to your feelings.”

“And say we did do this,” Jaskier said, his voice still guarded. “What about Yennefer?”

Geralt shook his head. “There’s nothing left for me and Yen. We’re done hurting each other for a relationship that will never feel good.” Geralt couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips as he tacked on, “Plus, with the looks Triss has been shooting her, I don’t think Yennefer will be too lonely.”

Jaskier shot him an incredulous look. “Triss and Yennefer hate each other!”

Geralt chuckled. “Yeah, when I was involved. Yen can, quite frankly, be a jealous bitch, and Triss certainly wasn’t letting up on the flirting.”

Jaskier searched his face. “And Triss?”

“There was never going to be any me and Triss, and she knew that. Honestly, I think her flirting these days has been more to toy with Yen than to actually try and woo me.”

Jaskier turned his gaze toward the night sky, a muddy brown-black-orange that ruined any hope of seeing the stars “Huh.”

“They both know there’s only one person I’m looking to woo me, anyway.”

Geralt watched Jaskier break out in a goofy, giddy smile, clearly involuntarily based on the way he quickly bit his lip to try and suppress it. Slowly, carefully, Geralt reached out for one of Jaskier’s hands, tugging gently until his arms came unravelled.

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shook his head. “I’m sorry, too. I should’ve said something.”

“Can I hug you?”

Jaskier’s goofy smile was back and Geralt felt his heart clench. He hoped to see that smile so much more.

“Only if I can kiss you,” Jaskier replied, bouncing on his toes a little.

Geralt grinned. “I find that an acceptable trade.”

Jaskier laughed then, pulling him into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long while, sharing heat and just soaking in each other’s presence. Slowly starting to accept that this was real, that this was happening. Geralt clenched his hands tightly into Jaskier’s sweater.

And then, some long minutes later, they pulled back from the hug just enough to press their lips together. It was soft and chaste, but by no means short. Geralt decided that kissing Jaskier felt like coming home.

They slipped away after that, deciding not to head back to the party. Their friends would assume things, sure, but they didn’t care. They had lost time to make up for, they could make up for not saying goodbye later.

Geralt drove them home, back to Jaskier’s flat just like last year. Jaskier fiddled with the radio as the streets blurred around them, trying to find an appropriately-themed holiday station. He burst into cackles the second he found one.

“Tell me this is not Wham!,” Geralt begged.

Jaskier was laughing too hard to reply.

“I hate it,” Geralt said, despite being on the verge of laughter himself. “I hate it so much. Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

“It’s so funny!” Jaskier wheezed, clutching his stomach as he doubled over in his seat.

Jaskier had only just barely calmed down by the time they got to his flat. They curled up on his ratty old couch with some hot chocolate and put on a Christmas movie, but it became more background noise than anything.

Instead they talked. They talked about their past together and how it hurt them, and their future and how they would prevent that from hurting too. They talked until Geralt’s throat was sore and Jaskier was nodding off on his shoulder. Geralt couldn’t find the energy to carry him to bed, so he simply readjusted their position on the couch to be something more comfortable and settled in to sleep himself.

“L’ve ‘ou” Jaskier breathed out against his neck.

Geralt smiled, closing his eyes. “Love you too, Jaskier.

#witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #the witcher fanfic #witcher fanfic #My writing #triss merigold #Yennefer of Vengerberg #zoltan chivay #iorveth #vernon roche #eskel

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mochifics · 4 years

Text

❝ something special ❞ | two.

• pairing: im jaebeom x reader. • genre: romance, really slow burn, fluff. • word count: 3.5k. • summary: it’s 2018, and got7′s hard carry 2 has begun filming. the company assigned you to tend to the two eldest members in the group all throughout the season, and you didn’t realize that being around them would be so... difficult.

author’s note: when i say that this is going to be a reaaaaally slow burn, i meant it LOL. anyway, i hope you enjoy this chapter! if you’d like a reference for how the ride was like you can click here and ride it yourself! happy reading <3

table of contents: prologue. | one.

“So, how do I look?”

After mindlessly waiting by the public bathroom (while snacking on popcorn from a Mickey-shaped container hanging around your neck), you were greeted by Jaebeom. He was dressed in his gift shop attire—a classic, grey Disneyland sweatshirt paired with patterned black joggers. Even with the brim of his Mickey embroidered bucket hat hovered over his eyes, it didn’t take away from his confident smile.

“I think it’s nice,” you answered politely, while awkwardly pulling a thumbs up.

It caused him to laugh, and your cheeks warmed up instantly. “It’s not too loud?” He followed up before walking behind you. You were a bit taken aback by his actions, but still allowed for him to shove the uniform he previously wore into your backpack. “You should’ve seen what Mark bought. It’s definitely… a lot to take in.”

Timing couldn’t have been any better, because Mark walked out right after. You were sure Jaebeom was exaggerating to get a reaction, but he was… not wrong. His matching set of Disney characters in bright colors could make him easy to spot, even pitch-black darkness.

“What is this, Fashion Week?” Jaebeom teased the older member, snickering quietly to himself. You were doing your best not to laugh yourself, so you continued to stuff a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you watched their interaction.

“Hey, it was on sale!” Mark protested with a small frown, though joined in on the laughter after. He made his way towards you before putting his old clothes into the backpack as well. “It doesn’t look that bad, right intern?”

“Huh?” you mumbled with your mouth still obviously full. You took a moment to quickly clear your mouth before answering. “No, it looks good, Mr. Tuan.”

“Ah, you’re just being too nice,” Jaebeom playfully rolled his eyes, his hands comfortably settled in his pants’ pockets. “You know, you don’t have to be so formal with us anymore. The cameras are done rolling, it’s just us three.”

“I’m being serious!” you reassured, a small yet panicked smile evident on your lips. You weren’t sure if his words were genuine or some sort of a test—so you decided to stay cautious and play it safe for the time being. After all, you were still technically working for them.

“Alright, alright, let’s stop picking on the intern,” Mark interjected kindly once the laughter’s died down a bit. He managed to already grab the masks that were in the front pouch of your backpack too, so he handed one over to Jaebeom before wearing his own. “Let’s go, we don’t know how long the line’s going to be.”

Disneyland at night had a completely different atmosphere. The concrete pathways were only illuminated by street lights and nearby signs, but having all the brightness also oddly felt… calming. The summer night breeze was comforting too, and the crowds have died down since the morning. You, Jaebeom and Mark began the trek towards the ride that they agreed to go onto, which was located in an area called Mystic Point.

“Are you sure this is the scariest ride here?” Jaebeom asked Mark, who were both walking on each of your sides. No matter how many times you tried to walk a little slower until you were fully behind them to give them space, they always managed to bring you back to them again. According to Mark it felt like they were being stalked, and it felt more comfortable to have you next to them instead.

Mark still had his eyes on his phone’s screen, using his thumb scroll through the article he found on the ‘scariest ride in Hong Kong’s Disneyland’. “That’s what it says,” he shrugged in response. “Apparently it’s like some type of haunted ride.”

“Haunted?” Jaebeom repeated, sounding a little shocked. “Isn’t Disneyland supposed to be for children? Why would they make a ride that’s scary?”

“I don’t know, ask Walt Disney,” Mark retorted as he reached back to give Jaebeom a nudge, causing your eyes to slightly widen. You didn’t think he would do something like that with you there, but you tried your best to refrain from laughing.

There was just something about this whole predicament that felt weird—you felt like you couldn’t be too casual, but you couldn’t be too formal either.

Thankfully Jaebeom responded with a lighthearted laugh.

Silence littered the air for a few minutes, and it wasn’t uncomfortable. You all just wanted to get to the ride as quickly as possible, so that you’re given plenty of time to get on the bus without the rush. Mark had his eyes on the map, Jaebeom was humming to a song, while you were just trying your best to keep up despite your exhaustion.

The walk uphill was a challenge. You didn’t imagine spending the entire day walking so much, but you figured it was a good workout anyway.

Upon finally arriving at the destination, the three of you were left in awe by the sight of the Manor displayed before you. It was this tall, Victorian-looking home illuminated in a cosmic blue light, and it vaguely reminded you of the Haunted Mansion in the other Disney parks.

“Wow,” you heard both Mark and Jaebeom say in unison, clearly enamored by it.

“Do you want me to hold anything for you while you two are on the ride?” you asked, despite having to ruin their small moment. You wanted them to enjoy their free time, but there was still a schedule you needed to follow.

They only responded with a strange expression—almost as if they were confused as to why you had asked something like that in the first place. “What do you mean?” Mark was the first to say something, “You’re coming with us.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, who else would we be talking to?” Jaebeom joked, giving you a light nudge on the arm. The contact alone was enough to make you feel shy for whatever reason, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t resist his charm. “You’ve been watching us do things all day, and you haven’t been on a single ride. Come with us.”

“But I really don’t want to come between your free time… I’m fine, seriously! There’s a bench over there that I can sit in and—” your words didn’t seem to matter to them, because before you knew it, you were being gently dragged inside. One of their arms was linked with yours on each side, and they began to walk up the stairs without giving you a heads up.

And you didn’t fight it. Because deep down, you wanted to come along anyway.

There wasn’t much wait time. Which was surprising, considering the crowd the members drew in earlier today. The line was moving fairly fast for a popular ride, and the surroundings made waiting easier and more entertaining. Inside the manor was a well-lit hallway that slightly resembled an underground railroad, matched with green paneled walls and stone flooring. Various photos in golden frames hung together, each with portraits of important marks of history.

“I feel like I’m in a museum,” Mark remarked as the three of you were asked to step in a room with the crowd that was in the queue with you. It was a closed space with brown and golden walls, and a screen placed in front for everyone to see.

The room turned pitch black before anyone could say anything. The screen began to play a video in black and white, which was similar to how those old-timey films were decades ago.

Hello! Could you hear me out there, from the back of the projection room? Oh! Welcome…

You felt a hand wrap around yours, and you froze. It was as if all of the air had been sucked out of you and you found it hard to breathe, because when you turned to see who’d grabbed onto you so suddenly, you could only see Jaebeom’s profile illuminated by the screen’s light. He wore a small, yet genuine smile as his eyes watched the movie projected on the screen. His lips moved and you assumed he was making small commentary of what he was experiencing, but you were too in your head to really decipher what he was saying.

Why does it feel like your heart’s about to jump out of your chest?

It felt like you just faced the hardest three minutes of your life. You tried your hardest to focus on the screen along with the talking monkey animatronic in the bell hopper uniform, and thankfully, it was over before you knew it. Jaebeom’s hand released from yours once the lights turned on, and you caught your breath. Blood continued to pump loudly in your ears while your head stirred, you let Mark and Jaebeom go ahead when the doors finally opened without them noticing.

After weaving through another set of brick pathways and metal fencing, the three of you finally arrived at the actual ride. You were quietly waiting for the green vehicle to park where the three of you stood so you could get in, mainly because you still couldn’t process what happened in that projector room.

Did anyone else see? Should you have just bit the bullet and let go?

“Hey intern,” you heard Mark call, which snapped you out of your trance. You looked, only to see that he and Jaebeom were already settling into the front row of the vehicle. “Don’t back out on us now, we’re already here.”

Hearing that made you relax a bit. “Sorry!” you apologized softly with a bow, then sliding into the back row alone. You pulled the lap bar in front of you and waited for the employee to make sure its in place, your eyes wandering everywhere else but Jaebeom direction.

“That room was kind of scary, wasn’t it?” Jaebeom asked Mark while the employee checked your vehicle’s lap bars. The sound of his chuckle was loud enough for you to hear. “I didn’t know it was going to be dark like that. Sorry if I squeezed your hand too hard.”

“What do you mean?” Mark answered. “I had my hands in my pockets the whole time.”

“What?” Jaebeom said in disbelief. “I could’ve sworn I was holding onto someone’s hand… If it wasn’t you, then who could it…”

Then, he figured it out.

For what was classified as a ‘haunted ride’ it was very… family friendly. In fact, it wasn’t scary at all. The ride basically gave you a tour around the infamous manor, and you watched it come to life. Inanimate objects singing and moving back and forth, dancing tiki statues in a room with lava, the bell hopper monkey getting into different predicaments from time to time—it was still a good ride, nevertheless. You liked it better than the Haunted Mansion back in the American Disney parks, and if you could ride it again, you definitely would.

Though no matter how immersive it felt, it was hard to really enjoy the ride when your mind was riddled with pointless thoughts. They were mainly about the boy who sat right in front of you, and you wondered why it had such a toll on you out of nowhere.

“Can I be honest?” Jaebeom spoke up as the three of you exited the manor. “That ride wasn’t scary at all. It was nice, though. I liked it.”

“Right?” Mark agreed. “I thought the same thing… it was still fun though. What about you, intern? Did you have fun?”

“I thought it was fun,” you answered with a smile. “That part in the end was probably my favorite. I felt like it was raining magic.”

Your words caused for the two to chuckle.

“Where should we go next?” Jaebeom wondered, glancing around the area. The night was coming to an end, and it was almost time to leave. “We probably have time for one more thing before we have to go back.”

Mark was attentively on his phone, as it looked like he was talking to someone through text. You and Jaebeom looked at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of guidance because he was the one who’s been leading you three to begin with.

“Uh…” Mark began, still keeping his eyes on the screen. “Jackson, BamBam and Yugyeom are actually at Tomorrow Land right now, they’re asking if we want to join them in line for Space Mountain. If we run, we might be able to catch them.”

“That sounds fun,” you encouraged. “You should go, it’s a good ride. It’s like the roller coaster you rode on with everyone else, but inside.” Maybe this way, you could go back on the bus early and take that nap you’ve been dreaming of.

Silence simmered between everyone for a moment, since the decision was ultimately up to Jaebeom. You were confident that in the end he would join the others though, considering the fact that he wanted to ride a thrill-seeking ride to begin with.

But boy, you were wrong.

“You can go, Mark. I’m kind of tired.”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get more awkward between you and Jaebeom, here you were. The two of you were standing idly on the side of the pathway, glancing at each other from time to time like you’re waiting for someone to say something… anything. You didn’t imagine you’d be stuck with him for the remainder of the evening, but you promised management you’d them back on the bus safely and on time.

“Are you hungry, Mr. Im?” the words were finally coaxed out of you, though, it was more of a way to break the awkward silence. Your grip on your popcorn container was a little stronger than usual, as your knuckles turned pale.

“I kind of am, actually,” he responded with that warm smile, softly patting his stomach. The answer was just enough to have you quietly sigh in relief. “Let’s go look for a stand that sells those churros. I saw someone eating one on our way over here, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterwards.”

You and Jaebeom then went on a small quest to look for a nearby churro stand. You two were directing each other with really no sense of where everything really was (all because Mark was the one who knew where to go), but you were making it work. Besides, with the map not having special points for churro stands, the two of you had to rely on memory. And even then, it was a challenge.

It took you two a while, but the mission was completed. Jaebeom secured his two churros, and you got a refill on your popcorn by a stand located in Main Street. The two of you decided to sit in a nearby bench, which was the best call on Jaebeom’s part, considering the fact that you were beginning to lose feeling on your feet. It didn’t really hit how exhausted you were until the moment you took a seat let your legs rest.

At least your surroundings were nice. Main Street always looked beautiful at night, with its stores perfectly illuminating the streets. Not too far away too, you had the perfect view of the castle. If you waited long enough, this would be the perfect spot to watch the fireworks show.

“Listen… About what happened in that projector room…” Jaebeom brought up amidst the silence, clearing his throat.

That alone already made you tense up, because you weren’t sure what was going to happen. “It’s fine! You didn’t know it was me, and I totally understand Mr. Im.”

He made a face after, one that’s filled with concern. “Are you sure it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable? Because I just grabbed your hand out of nowhere, and it was really stupid of me to not check who it was before… holding it for so long.”

Hearing him say it that way caused for your cheeks to burn. It suddenly brought you back, remembering the way his hand felt around yours. How you it made your heart stop for a second for whatever reason, and looking at him made it all the more overwhelming.

You tried to snap out of it multiple times though, and you responded kindly with a soft smile. “Trust me, it’s fine. Anyone would’ve been lucky to hold hands with GOT7’s very own Im Jaebeom. Even if it was on accident.”

The two of you spent the remaining time you had comfortably. You continued to stay stationed in that bench, sharing a conversation that mainly involved Jaebeom asking questions to get to know you better. Where you were from, how you got the job, your interests, some of your favorites, etcetera. You didn’t realize how kind and genuine he was until now, because he really paid attention to what you had to say. It was nice.

“Okay, be honest with me,” His body sank lower onto the bench, hands properly folded over his lap after throwing away his leftover churro wrappers. His eyes were intently staring at the starry sky, though his attention was on you. “What did you think about us before meeting us? And I’ll know when you’re lying, so answer truthfully.”

“Um…” you took some time to really think about the answer, because you could say something that may potentially offend him. Fingertips drumming against the plastic popcorn container, you pressed your lips in thought. “To be honest, I thought you all were going to be intimidating. I mean, no offense, it’s just that I don’t know any of you personally. So, I assumed you all weren’t going to like me from the start.”

“Intimidating? Really? None of us look intimidating—maybe Mark or Jinyoung might be an exception, but the rest of us… we’re like the total opposite,” he laughed. “Besides, we like you already. Jackson’s been talking about inviting you to our outings when we’re not shooting.”

“I didn’t know I became the eighth member of GOT7,” you quipped, which made you softly giggle. Your eyes were on the stars too, while your arms tightly clung onto the popcorn container. “I can’t sing, dance, or rap, so I might just be in the back doing nothing.”

“No… you’ll definitely be our visual,” he said with a satisfied nod. “It only makes sense.”

Your eyes rolled playfully as a ‘tsk’ sound left your tongue. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious,” he fought back with a grin. “Your face is nice to look at.”

The fireworks show happened not too long after. It was as if timing couldn’t have done any better, because they did an amazing job in masking the way your heart pounded. You let out a deep sigh when Jaebeom’s attention fell onto the colorful patterns lighting the night sky. So, you decided to sit back and watch quietly too.

You didn’t know how, but the two of you have gotten closer throughout the show. Up to the point where your shoulders softly met, but neither of you decided to say a word or pull back. Instead, you enjoyed each other’s comfort as the fireworks were displayed above the tower, even if it was for a little while.

Youngjae and Jinyoung were the first to arrive at the bus. You and Jaebeom spotted their heads leaning against the window, which had you two laughing. Jaebeom tried to wave right in front of them for their attention, but they were far too out of it to even notice. Which was understandable, considering the fact that they did have a long day today.

BamBam, Yugyeom, Jackson and Mark arrived not too long after. They were all happily walking towards you two, all carrying bags with souvenirs, mouths yapping on and on about what they did. You also wanted to make sure all seven of the members were in the bus before going inside yourself, so you patiently waited on the side of the door.

“Man, that ride was…” BamBam began as he made his way into the entrance of the vehicle, “EASYYYYY!” he was joined at the last word by Yugyeom after. You laughed, louder than intended, and they all joined in with you.

“Was it better than the roller coaster we went on?” Jaebeom asked as he stood right across from you, the members all hopping in between your bodies.

“The outdoor one was better, it had more surprises,” Jackson was the one to answer, as he was the last (aside from Jaebeom) to hop on. He briefly looked at you with a friendly smile, giving your shoulder a small pat before entering. Jaebeom then soon followed. “What about you? How was it when Mark left?”

“It was nice,” he took a moment to glance back at you, then looking back ahead to sit with the rest of the members. “It felt like a date.”

#im jaebeom #jaebum #jaebeom x reader #got7 fanfiction #jaebeom x you #got7 #got7 fanfic #im jaebum #something special.

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