#Axel from Date ME! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brookediamonds · 4 months ago

Text

who's the guy with the wide, blue eyes and the big bad, mmm?

Part 2 to ‘Who’s the cute boy with the white (black) jacket and the thick accent?’

Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: After you and Axel confirm each other’s interest in each other, you decide to take things a step further and attempt to go on a date when, of course, there’s the trouble of Cobra Kai.

gif is not mine

(In Croatian, "ljubavi" is pronounced "loo-buh-vee" and is used to address someone directly. It translates to “love.”)

—————————————————————————

“Thanks for walking me back to my room,” you say turning back to the tall Croatian boy trailing next to you.

You stop when you reach your room, pulling your key card out of your pockets from your dress.

“Of course,” Axel nods eyes trailing down to your body.

“Oh,” you realized you’re still wearing his jacket, beginning to shrug it off. “Your jacket, here.”

“No,” he holds his hands out to your shoulders keeping you from removing the piece of clothing. “You keep it, ljubavi.”

“Oh, giving nick names are we?” You tease Axel, slipping your hands around his torso.

He lets out a small laugh, snaking his large hands around the back of your neck making you feel giddy inside.

He’s delicate with his touch, gently tilting your head back so it allows him to lean down and softly graze his lips with yours.

You sigh as he pulled away, your lips almost reach up for more affection but knew it was getting late and another round of events waited for you in the morning.

“Good night, (Y/n),” he whispers pressing one final peck to your forehead. Your heart flutters in your chest as he pulls away.

Watching him walk to the elevator, you tap your key card against the sensor and twist the handle, ready to go inside.

But not without looking back towards the handsome flushed boy, waving him one more goodbye.

Once you finally make it inside, you lean back on the closed door to your shared room, and breathe.

Tonight’s events replayed in your mind, the conversation’s you shared with Axel played on a loop, his european accent engraved into the part of your brain that memorizes sounds.

You’re brought out of thought when you see your roommate saunter out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

“And where have you been missy?” Sam muffles through a mouthful of toothpaste before continue to brush her teeth.

“I ran into Axel,” you grin walking over to your bed, slipping off the black jacket that held the sweetest scent of the young man you were just with.

“You’ve been with him this whole time?” Your best friend questions, her mouth falling open.

You nod bringing up the piece of clothing to your nose, inhaling the musky scent of Axel and his cologne.

“We talked, walked, kissed-“ you say holding the jacket tight against chest.

“You kissed?” Sam exclaims running over to you, plopping down on the bed. “How was it?”

“It was so…” You shake your head trying to grasp the wording for how you felt, how electrifying and dizzy his lips made you feel inside. “Consuming.”

The brunette girl watched you in awe as you described your night and took in every word you poured out.

“I hate that we met here,” you admit later that night as you and Sam laid in your beds, cozy in your pj’s and soft sheets.

“Why?” She asks lying on her side to look at you. You turn over, placing your arm under your head.

“We live on the other side of the world from each other, I feel like I met my match and he lives in another country,” you say glumly.

“You don’t think you guys would stay in contact?”

It would be a challenge. It’s your senior year of high school, college just around the corner, karate has always taken up most of your time, you hardly gave any attention to relationships.

“I want to say it would be hard but wouldn’t it be worth it if our connection meant that much to us?” You think out loud.

“So don’t think about it too hard,” Sam assured me. “We have a few days left here, just take things day by day, see where it goes.”

You sighed mentally agreeing with your best friend. She was right, you’re getting ahead of yourself.

The screen on your phone lit up catching your attention. Picking up the device, you noticed a text notification from an unknown number.

Unknown: Sleep well, ljubavi.

You smile seeing the nickname, knowing exactly who it was.

You: What does “ljubavi” mean?

You see the chat bubble rise above your keyboard before a message pops up.

Unknown number: Love.

Heart? Soaring. You were never one for nicknames, but this one turned you into mush.

You: I love it. Sweet dreams, Axel ❤️

You click your phone off and set it back on the nightstand before looking back up at the ceiling. Rerunning the night through your head, you fall asleep soundly.

—————————————————————————

It was a rough start to the morning. Mr. LaRusso informed your team that Terry Silver had once again weaseled his way back into your lives, this time with a different team.

The Iron Dragons, Axel's team. Silver was psychotic and a mess, it left you worried what could happen to the boy you took a liking to.

Anxiously waiting, you sat alone on one of the benches around the corner from the locker rooms, fiddling with your fingers.

Axel strode down the hallway, dressed in his green Gi, captain's headband tied on and ready to go. Why did he have to look so good?

"Hi," you greet the young man nervously as he sat right next you. The blue-green eyed boy wasted no time wrapping you in his arms, making you feel almost grounded.

Your eyes slumped shut, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, resting your chin on his left broad shoulder.

"Is everything okay?" Axel asks taking notice to your longing hold. You sighed pulling back from his warm embrace, still trying to figure out how to tell him about Silver.

"I brought you something," he says diverting your attention. Reaching into his pockets, he pulls out a braided bracelet with the Barcelona flower in the middle of it.

"Axel," you pout as he held the hand woven accessory between you two. "It’s beautiful, thank you.”

You take the gift, holding it to your heart forgetting why you asked him here in the first place.

“The woman who sold it to me said each petal represents something different, it reminded me of you,” he says tracing the four gold petals on the bracelet, a pink hue cascading across his nose and cheeks.

“Axel,” you hear a girls voice from down the hall making you both turn to its corporate.

Zara, the other Iron Dragon’s captain stood with a straight face, calling out to her teammate.

“Sensei is waiting,” she speaks calmly. You couldn’t read her, was she annoyed? Unbothered?

“I’m coming,” Axel says before standing up. Crap, you didn’t get to inform him on Silver.

“I must go,” he says facing you. “Good luck today, ljubavi.”

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before striding over to Zara who glanced over at you with a questioning look.

She raised an eyebrow and walked off with the other captain, leaving you to ponder your thoughts.

“How’d it go?” Demetri asked as you approached your team, scratching the back of your head.

“Um, it didn’t- I’m sorry!” You apologize quickly. “He caught me off guard with something!”

“(Y/n!)” Hawk gave you a disappointed look, Robby and Miguel sighing with the same shared expressions as everyone else.

“Okay, but even if she did tell him, what could he do?” Sam interjects, hands on her hips. At least someone was on your side.

“Sam’s right,” Kenny agreed. “Silver has a way with anyone, one person makes no difference.”

“It could if they’re the winter soldier,” Demetri retorted making you whip your head to the tall lanky boy next to you.

“We already told you to stop calling him that,” you muttered lowly to him. “You have no idea what he goes through, look at what Tory was going through this entire time.”

The team fell quiet at your words.

“Let’s just get through this next round, okay guys?” Robby spoke up breaking the silence. “We have work to do.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, making their way to where your sensei’s stood.

—————————————————————————

You fought like hell, everyone did. Robby pulled through in the end against Kwon, defeating our biggest match.

We had finally defeated Cobra Kai.

As you and Sam hugged celebrating your group win, you notice the boy you've been infatuated with this entire trip approach you.

“Congratulations,” Axel spoke as you pulled back from your friend's arms.

“Thanks,” you smile widely crossing your arms over your chest. “And congrats to you.”

“Thank you,” he nods a small closed mouth grin on his face.

“I'll leave you two alone," Sam shoots you a wink before walking off. Axel glanced around him, taking a step closer to you.

Due to your height difference, you tilted your head up at the 6 foot boy admiring his post fight look. Messy auburn hair, cheeks flushed.

"May I take you to dinner tonight?" Axel asks reaching out his hands for yours. You intertwined yours fingers together, the tingles starting to form inside.

"I'd love that," you grin trying to contain your excitement. After this big win, and getting an opportunity to spend more time with Axel, you were on cloud 9.

"Kovačević."

You both turn to see Sensei Wolf and none other than Terry Silver standing side by side, his sensei glaring at you and Silver looking smug.

You suddenly felt caught, like you were just exposed from a dirty little secret. Silver saw you holding hands with one of his students, you, a Miyagi-Do with his team captain.

Pulling your hands from his grasp, Axel turns back to you, a frown forming on his face.

"We'll talk later?" You ask bringing his eyes back up to yours.

"Yes, I will text you," he confirms. You turn on your heels to walk away when you're suddenly caught by the wrist and twirled around falling into Axel's chest.

He brings a hand up to your face, softly caressing the apple of your cheek before locking his lips with yours.

You can't help but melt into the kiss, your tongue lightly grazing against his. You're both breathless when you disconnect, you stood dizzy as he walked over to the men that called him.

Shaking your head, you stride over to your team, a million thoughts running through your head.

After changing into normal civilian clothes, you closed the locker moving to leave when Miguel walks in.

"Hey," you greet him. "I was just gonna go look for you guys."

"No worries," he assures you. Your friend stood awkwardly, his eyes saying something but his mouth relaying nothing.

"Is everything okay?" You ask noticing his stance. "How’s your mom?"

"Yeah, no she's fine, thank you," he exhales walking to where you stand shoving his hands in his pockets. "We're actually worried about you."

"About me?" You ask with a light laugh. "Why?"

Miguel sighed trying to find the words.

"Demetri thinks-"

You rolled your eyes, slinging your gym bag over your shoulder crossing your arms defensively.

"I'm gonna kick his ass," you mumbled. "What now?"

"He thinks Silver might be going through Axel to get to you," your friend reveals.

No, you think immediately.

"I- I don't think he would do that," you say lowly. "Right?"

You're asking yourself at this point. Miguel stares at you with empathetic eyes, you rub a hand over your face.

"We just met Miggy," you begin to think about your interactions. "But I know this wasn't planned, this was all by chance."

"Okay," Miguel nods taking you for your word. "We have your back then."

You smile softly at the curly haired boy, before pulling him into a tight hug.

"What's this for?" He asks with a slight chuckle.

"I'm just glad you and Johnny are back, and your mom is okay," you breathed out. "It's not easy losing a parent."

He rubbed your back knowing your history of losing your father a few years back.

That same night Miguel left, you went to the beach because your dad and you loved spending time there. He would teach you the kata you know now, and practice your breathing work with you there.

"Thank you, (Y/n)," Miguel whispered. You both pulled back, and silently went back to your team together.

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

"Why am I so nervous? I've already kissed the guy!" You freaked brushing your comb through your curls.

"Kissed, made out," Sam shrugged flipping through the channels of your tv.

"Made out?" Miguel speaks up sitting up from his spot on Sam's bed. "I was only gone for like a day."

"A lot can happen in 24 hours," you wince. Setting the comb down, you stare at yourself in the mirror rechecking your appearance.

You wore a red romper that held an array of tiny colorful flowers with a pair of raffia flats to complement the style.

"You look gorgeous," Sam came up from behind you, her face lingering next to yours in the mirror. She ran her fingers through your curls giving them a more tousled look that she knew you favored.

"Thanks, Sam," you say as she finished fixing your hair.

"I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick," she says to you and Miguel. She stepped aside and went into the bathroom.

"Where are you guys gonna go?" Miguel asks propping his arm behind his head.

"One of the local restaurants at the square," you respond spraying some of your Valentino perfume into the crevices of your neck.

Before Miguel could respond, there's a knock at the door. It was Axel.

"Be safe," your best friend's boyfriend wishes you as you grabbed your purse. You roll your eyes playfully, swinging the door open to reveal your company.

"Wow," Axel breathed out. "You look beautiful."

Your nerves vanished, all the worrying you held earlier diminished at his words.

"Thank you," you blushed. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Axel wore a grey henley shirt with a black bomber jacket and dark blue jeans, he looked absolutely handsome. And he was all yours.

He blushes at your compliment, his eyes lingering down your face before they shifted behind you making him frown.

"Who is that?" Axel asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Oh," you open the door a little wider. "This is Miguel, my teammate and Sam's boyfriend."

"Sup man," Miguel gives him a small wave before he goes back to watching tv.

"You ready to go?" You ask turning back to Axel with a soft smile. His eye tear away from the comfortable boy in bed and focuses on you.

"Yes," he responds a little more relaxed. You shut the door behind you, walking hand in hand with your date to the elevator.

As you both stood in the moving transportation, Axel lifts your hand noticing the gift he had given you earlier wrapped around your wrist making him smile.

He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your it making you giggle.

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

It was a perfect night. The food was amazing, the art was captivating, and the company made it ten times better.

"So Mr. Europe, what do you think of Barcelona?" You ask as you and Axel strolled down the streets of the city. You stood on his right side, arm looped with his.

"Reminds me of Koh Samui," he says referring to a part of Thailand.

"You've been to Thailand?" You gasped. "That's so cool."

"And Japan," he adds. "China, Malaysia, India, every country in Europe."

You shake your head, stunned at his list of traveling destinations.

"That's amazing," you exhale nuzzling further into Axel's side.

"You ever been to Europe?" He inquires.

"No," you admit sadly. "Sam has taken me to Disney World a few times when we were kids, but other than California, I haven't been anywhere."

He nods, taking in your words.

"I really like it here though, being able to come here has been eye opening. Makes me want to see the rest of the world," you say thoughtfully.

"What do you hope to see while here?" Axel asks as you turn a corner into an alley way covered from wall to wall of art, lights hanging above you.

"Everything," you say untangling yourself from his hold to look closer at a mural on the wall. "Las Ramblas, Cascada Monumental, Park Güel!"

Axel stood behind you watching as you admired the painting, a small smile on his face as he listened to you ramble about your wants and wishes.

"And end with fight for the world tournament of karate?" He asks with a slight chuckle coming up to your side.

''And maybe something else," you tease him glancing up into his dark blue orbs. He reached towards you, moving the strands of hair away from your face so he could see your eyes.

"Can we take a picture together?" You ask almost shyly. You wanted to memorize this trip through and through, and you especially wanted proof that you had in fact met someone across the world that you very much liked.

"Anything for you," he says making your heart flutter. Axel stood behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist, gently taking your phone from your hand to take your picture.

You leaned back into his chest, smiling with complete bliss as he snapped a few pictures, your face feeling warm when he takes a few of him kissing your cheek then your lips.

But of course, there's an interruption when a back door is slammed open and out fall a few members of Cobra Kai.

"Ohh, what do we have here?" Kwon spoke almost slurring his words letting you know he had been drinking. You rolled your eyes as he and his teammates stood around you.

"How cute," your opponent says observing the situation in front of him. "Little rival team play time, huh?"

Him and his friends laughed making you huff in annoyance. Axel stood still a look of anger casting across his face.

"Just ignore them," you say making the tall boy look down at you. He silently agreed, both of you working to move past them.

Two members of the Cobra Kai gang closed in on you, not allowing you to pass through.

"Say the magic words," Kwon cockily dared you. Your blood began to boil at his arrogance, it was a perfect night and they were ruining it.

"Move aside," you state slowly. Kwon looked Axel then back at you, faking a shock.

"Wrong," he says pissing you off further.

"Get the hell out of our way and leave us alone," you seethed not being able to control your anger for much longer.

With a fake innocent look on his face, Kwon bends down to your level resting his hands on his knees before stating, "only if you say 'please."

As Kwon sent you a smug smile, you were ready to deck him in the face when another member suddenly attacked Axel.

"Hit me, come on," Kwon taunts you, tapping his chin for you to hit him.

As Axel threw his teammate into Kwon, you followed your instincts to turn and kick the other member that threatened to attack you.

When he landed on the floor, you turned back to Kwon who stood toe to toe with Axel, instigating a fight.

"Come on, I'll take you both, let's go," he challenged us. Suddenly the sounds of sirens were heard in the distance bringing you back to reality.

"We need to go," you say hurriedly stepping in front of your date gently pushing him back.

"I'll see you on the mat," Kwon promises.

"Come on," you beg grabbing Axel's hand tugging him with you. He finally listens to you, and you both run in the opposite direction of Cobra Kai.

When you make it to the beach, you halt to a stop, bending over to catch your breath.

"That," you inhale. "Was Cobra Kai. Actual pricks."

You had explained the entire back story during dinner to what brought your team to the Sekai Taikai, not leaving a single detail out.

"I can see why," Axel pants. Tiredly, you plop down onto the sand, the tall boy mimicking your actions.

"Nice round kick," he says a big grin on his face making you laugh.

"Nice counter strike," you throw back at him a small grin on your face. He chuckles watching as you turned to face him, his eyes becoming hazy.

Within the heat of the moment, you lean forward smashing your lips together, lips moving in sync with one another. You moved to straddle his waist, his hands going straight to your waist.

A fire ignited in the pit of your stomach as you felt him open his mouth allowing you to explore it with your tongue.

Gently pushing him on his back, your lips never disconnected, his grabby hands wondering over your backside.

Axel moaned as you lightly bit his lower lip as you tore apart for air.

"Best date ever," you whispered looking through half lidded eyes.

"Definitely," he agreed with a small smirk before tangling his long fingers through your hair pulling your head back down to continue what you had started.

—————————————————————————

part 3

Tag List: @karmaswitch

(a/n: um omg thank you for requesting a part two?? i’ve never done this before this is so exciting, and lmk if y’all wanna be added to the tag list!! i’ve been a wattpad girlie since i was 12 and was so intimidated to write for tumblr but it is so nice over here lol. incase you’re a fan of Teen Wolf i do have a book on wattpad for Liam Dunbar, my user is @ district12girlonfire that has been my pride and joyyyy.

anyway, part 3?)

#axel kovacevic imagines #axel kovacevic x reader #axel cobra kai #axel x reader #axel kovacevic #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine

441 notes · View notes

m1guelsgf · 2 months ago

Note

Request enemies to lovers with Axel?

hiiiii sorry this took me so long but i hope u like it and i hope u don't mind diaz!reader. if so just lmk and i will write you another version <3 enjoy!

alacran

axel kovacevic x diaz!reader

it was the first day of the sekai tekai and the arena was buzzing with excitement. all the worlds best fighters had made it to barecelona. this was no all valley. there wouldn't be any 'easy' matches. everyone who was here had fought and earned the spot that they have.

being on miyagi do's team was a blessing and a curse. you had been fighting alongside your brother since he started learning (it was the only way your mom would agree to letting him take the lessons) and now the both of you have the ultimate chance to prove yourselves. on the world stage at the sekai tekai. of course, miguel was still salty over losing the captain spot but you knew he would get over it eventually. robby was his best friend, thankfully after years of drama involving both sam and you. you knew miguel would eventually be able to be happy for him.

the announcer began explaining away the sekai tekai and the rules, introducing all the teams and letting you all know what your day had in store for you.

"it's a beautiful day to make a first impression."

you looked around the mat at all your competitors. fighters you will have to face at some point. you peered over at tory from your spot on the mat and frowned. you had been good friends with tory, starting when she started dating your brother. it didn't even phase you when she started dating robby, your ex, because you two were such good friends. no matter what has happened, all the drama, you and tory had always been there for each other and now she's on the other side of the mat.

"come on, let's go get changed." sam waved you over and you followed her out of the arena. you could see the weight on her shoulders and her concern for tory. you could see it on everyone, but especially robby and sam.

at the aquarium, you were watching all the captains get a group shot together.

"they're really going out of their way to let us know how special the captains are."

"yeah i'm getting that." miguel spoke, arms crossed and his eyes set on the group. it didn't take a genius to see that he was still seething over the captain debacle.

"it seems like everyone already knows each other." you commented, observing people going at each other and yelling. "and it's not friendly."

"maybe it's like prison. just punch the toughest guy square in the jaw on day one." demitri suggested.

you, hawk, and miguel turned to face him, evaluating what he had just said. "not sure where we should start then."

"what about ivan drago over there?" hawk nodded in the direction of one of the captains and you turned to look.

the first thing you noticed were his eyes. they drew you in really close and you could get lost in them if you weren't careful. he towered over everyone and his expression was serious as his gaze all but burned lazers through you.

"you there in the back, focus, come on!" the photographer got his attention back and the boy managed a half smile.

"he's been checking you out since we were at the arena." hawk nudged you with his elbow and you promptly nudged him back a little harder. "ouch."

"ugh." miguel rolled his eyes, disgusted at the notion that someone had been checking out his little sister. "i'm gonna catch up with sam, stay with her." he spoke to hawk and he nodded.

"i'm not a child miggy!" you called out after him and huffed, knowing hawk and demitri wouldn't let you out of their sight at miguel's order. no, you would have to be more clever. "hey guys, is that a polar bear?"

"where?" they spoke in unison and whipped around to see what you were talking about.

"they really shouldn't have one here in captivity, it's far from the best conservatory." demitri spoke and for a moment, they forgot that they were mad at each other while you quickly ran in the first direction you could.

quickly making your way through the halls of the aquarium, you were turning to look over your shoulder so much that you bumped into someone and sent yourself straight to the ground. you peered at their shoes, noticing they were still upright and let your gaze follow upwards until your heart dropped.

it was the boy. the ivan drago look alike. the guy hawk said had been checking you out was now standing above you, staring down at you with the same expressionless face as before. and then he utters his first words to you.

"watch where you're going."

"excuse me?" you immediately responded, brows furrowing as you stood yourself up.

"that's what you should have said." he shot back, posture rigid. he was almost like a statue.

your mouth parted to say something but you didn't know what to say. you narrowed your eyes at him. he was cute, but not cute enough to talk to you like that.

"y/n!"

thankfully, before you two could stand there gaping at each other, miguel had called your name from the end of the corridor. his arms were crossed and you could tell you were in for it.

"let's go."

you turned to follow miguel, not before throwing one last glare in the boy's direction.

"what the hell did i tell you?"

"technically, you told demitri and hawk to watch me. like a child." you spoke pointedly back at your brother.

"dude, mom told me to keep an eye on you and to keep you out of trouble. it's not my fault she doesn't trust you after everything." miguel referenced your cobra kai days after his injury where you partied, fought, and had a severe lack of respect for your family. "you really think i wanna babysit you while i'm in spain with my girlfriend? if you don't want a babysitter then grow the hell up."

you only raised your middle fingers in a childish display of disrespect and walked away from him. you spent the rest of the afternoon stuck between hawk and demitri who were competing on who could name the most sea creatures.

after the first day of challenges, where it seemed like everyone but miguel got properly washed on the mat, you decided to go down to one of the exercise rooms in the hotel. you had been stewing over what miguel said and your interaction with the boy, who you now know is named axel, so you really just wanted to escape into your head to the sound of your playlist while you beat the ever loving fuck out of the punching bag.

you thought back on axel, letting your anger towards him motivate you into throwing harder punches, making the bag inch across the floor with every blow of your fists or kicks. you hated that he was such a jerk because he was cute. you hated admiting it to yourself but it excited you when hawk told you he had been checking you out. you hadn't dated since robby (after miguel's injury you just couldn't see him the same) and you were looking forward to dating someone outside your immediate friend group. you felt stupid for getting your hopes up.

and you felt stupid in general. miguel was right. you had no one to blame but yourself for being on a short leash in the middle of spain. it was you who came home late all those times and yelled at your mom and yaya and caused so much trouble. you started imagining the bag as your past self, letting out loud yells of effort as you practiced different combinations.

"where was this on the mat?" a deep voice penetrated the music blasting into your ears from your headphones. you turned around to face axel, who was analyzing you.

when you saw him on the mat, you got a good idea of his skills based on the brief take down of both yoon and kwon.

and while your heart thumped against your chest because of the way he was looking at you and the way his white t-shirt outlined his frame, you were still annoyed at him. "excuse me but i have to go." you wiped your sweat, grabbing your gym bag and making your way to the door that was being blocked by axel. "excuse me." you reiterated, looking into his eyes that had a slight humor in them. "what?"

"you're pretty when you have manners." axel smiled at you and it angered you even further. instead of responding, you managed to squeeze through while passing underneath his arm. your hips brushed against his and you both went warm in the face.

you walked away from him, not before turning to look at him over your shoulder again. he was watching you leave, arms crossed over his chest while he leaned against the door frame.

that night you dream about him.

the second day of challenges was rough. you had held your own just fine but if it wasn't for miguel, you all would have had to go home. on top of that, daniel was missing for the entire day. the cherry on top though was learning that your mom was in the hospital.

"that's not fair, i should be there." you pleaded to johnny. you weren't as close with him as miguel was but he saw you as one of his kids.

"i know sweetheart, but me and miguel are gonna make sure she's okay." johnny placed his hands on your shoulders. "between you and me? miguel wouldn't be able to handle staying, not knowing if she's okay. i can't handle it. we both get caught up in our feelings and lose focus. but you're strong. you can do this. i need you to be here."

warm tears started rolling down your face when you realized he was right. miguel was in his room, sobbing while packing his bags and you were taking it better than the both of them. it's not that you didn't care, no your stomach was in knots and your heart was threatening to crawl out of your throat, you just knew there was nothing you could do except hope for the best.

"take care of her. call me as soon as you see her i don't care if it's still the middle of the night here. call me when you know she's okay." you hugged johnny tightly and he hugged you back in a fatherly way. you hadn't been hugged like this since the last time you saw your actual dad and that memory was slowly fading. johnny's hug communicated just how much he loved and cared for your family.

"okay." he whispered into your hair and kissed your forehead. "i'll go get miguel."

you sighed once johnny left your room and not long after, sam, robby, demitri, and eli trailed in.

"you okay?" robby asked cautiously. he had always been gentler with you but especially after everything. even though you had broken up ages ago, he never stopped caring about you and neither did you about him. you were good friends.

"i need a drink." you grabbed your purse and walked past them, out of your room. they all followed you.

at the bar, you had been on a slightly destructive path. you were nearing the threshold and about to cross over from being charmingly tipsy to just drunk.

"do you really need another?" tory asked, taking a seat besides you. "rough day?"

"you don't even know." you looked at your friend before taking a sip of your new drink.

"you didn't suck out there." she complimented in her own way.

"thanks." you replied dryly. the alcohol was starting to sour your mood and you could feel your head beginning to spin.

"are you okay?"

"no." you stood up, walking out of the bar. tory tried following but was stopped by robby. you stumbled your way down to the beach, dropping into the sand like a bag of bricks. you held your head in your hands, sitting with your knees to your chest as you tried to ground yourself.

it was all too much though. you started thinking about your mom and how much you needed her to be okay. other than when miguel got hurt, you hadn't been this scared before. the difference was, you were able to ride with miguel in the ambulance. your mom was across the globe and you wouldn't be able to tell if she was okay until they did. you had so many regrets about your mom. you weren't always the easiest child and lord knows you got into it with her too many times to count. that didn't mean you didn't love her though. she was the person you loved the most in the world after all her sacrifices for you and your brother.

you sat in the sand like that for a while, unaware of the people passing and the person watching you intently.

"too much to drink?" you recognized axel's voice and it plucked your heartstrings.

looking up at him with your glassy eyes, you saw his expression change. sniffling, you respond. "i'm really not in the mood right now so if you could please just fuck off, i would really appreciate it. thanks."

"i don't feel right just leaving you here." he responded, tone now serious. "i'll go back to practicing where i was. when you're ready to go back to the hotel just tell me."

and before you could respond, he was back at his spot in the sand practicing his kata.

you wallow for a bit longer, letting the sound of the ocean drown out all the other noise rattling around in your head. you checked your phone for any calls or messages but you had none. they were probably barely taking off. you used your phone as a mirror and wiped your face of any tears and snot that may have trickled and you slowly stood up. your head wasn't spinning any more but you still felt the effects of the alcohol as you stumbled your way towards axel through the sand.

his back was turned to you and you could see dark purple bruises on his back.

"jesus, what happened to you?"

this time was axel's turn to be surprised. "bo staff competition." he pulled his shirt over his head.

"right." you distinctly remember the announcer praising axel for not having a single point against him. untouchable. as he called him. your drunk brain was loosely connecting dots, like the shouts you had heard from the exercise room while axel and his sensei were training.

"ready?"

"yeah."

the two of you set off into the night, neither of you knowing what to talk about if anything.

axel felt conflicted. the only reason he had been so cold towards you was because he thought it would help him shove his feelings down. he liked you. he thought you were beautiful and talented and he wanted to get to know you but it would also be a devastating distraction for him. by the looks of it, you were dating that guy who had called out to you in the arena. to brush you off and away was supposed to help him focus on the tournament but here he was, walking you back to the hotel while you followed him like a sad little puppy. he wanted to ask what was wrong, why you were by yourself, but he knew it wouldn't lead to anything good so he stayed silent.

"can i ask you something?" when you got no response, you figured it was your queue to keep going. "why do you hate me? like i have a reason to hate you- because you're a stupid jerk, but why do you hate me? why do you-"

"i don't." axel hoped this would seem like a dream when you woke up in the morning rather than a memory. "i just can't like you."

"why? what did i do?" you were looking at him with those puppy dog eyes and he wanted to melt.

"i just can't. leave it alone." he spoke sternly, almost as if scolding a child.

"okay..." you huffed and it was silent for the rest of the walk. every now and then axel would have to grab onto your arms or shoulders to keep you from falling. it made it all so much harder for him. "thank you axel. you didn't have to."

he gave you a warm, unfamiliar smile. "i did. goodnight."

"g'nite." you got into the elevator and from there you can only remember waking up in your bed with a massive headache.

the next day, you had decided to go on a run with hawk. he told you the best way to cure a hangover was to sweat it out and it did help. you were just still confused at the way your night ended.

apparently miguel had called and informed you that your mom was okay and he and johnny were coming back but that moment was lost on you. the same as how you got home. were your dreams getting too realistic or did axel take care of you last night? you didn't know and were afraid to ask anyone. the miyagi do's trust was delicate and the captain of the iron dragon was giving you the cold shoulder when you saw him in passing. he had even started messing with miguel. glaring at him and shoulder checking him throughout the third day of challenges.

you didn't know what his problem was and you weren't eager to find out. especially with zara at his side, who you could only assume was his girlfriend. tory had already made an enemy of her and you weren't keen on doing the same.

"what the hell was that?" miguel asked you when axel shoved his shoulder into him for the nth time. this time was definitely intentional, there was no way to convince himself it was an accident.

"i don't know." you shrugged, glancing at axel who was coldly staring at you.

"stay away from that guy, yeah? he gives me the creeps." miguel places a hand on your back, leading you out of the arena while throwing a questioning glare over his shoulder at axel. you said nothing as your brother led you away.

after beating cobra kai and securing a spot in the semis, you had a bone to pick. your irritation was crawling all over you as you felt axel watching you through your whole match. it made you feel uneasy, being watched so closely. more importantly, it made you nervous. self conscious to the point of having a point landed on you.

"what the hell is your problem?" you asked harshly, slamming the door to the exercise room behind you. axel was alone just as you were the last time, taking his frustrations out on the punching bag.

"manners..." he tsked at you and you scoffed.

"fuck manners." you stepped closer, face heated with anger. "you're being such a pain in my ass and in miggy's and i wanna know why." you demanded.

"miggy." axel sucked his teeth, shaking his head at the affectionate nickname.

"seriously. what is your problem with me and my brother?"

brother? suddenly axel felt bad. "he's your brother?"

"what the fuck else would he be?" you narrowed your eyes, extremely annoyed by your inability to read him. axel didn't respond and you stepped closer. "i want you to leave us alone. stop bothering him and stop watching me."

"or what?" axel knew it was dangerous but he took another step closer to you. the silence hung heavy between the two of you as frustration was being emitted by the both of you. axel had been frustrated about you and now you were here. your eyes looking at him. your soft lips parting to speak. the blush on your cheeks. he just couldn't help himself.

and neither could you. it was like an impule for the both of you, immediately grabbing onto each other and going in for a kiss.

it was rough and angry. axel had been trying so hard to get you out of his head. his own mind and body were betraying himself because of you and he hated it. he hated the way you infected his mind.

and you hated that he had the same effect on you. he had been nothing but annoying since the very first day but you still wanted him. it didn't matter what miguel or anyone else thought. you finally gave in and you wanted this.

he wanted it too. you were pressed against the wall, his teeth grazing your bottom lip making you open your mouth wider for him. he held the back of your head as he kissed you deeper, liking the way your body pressed against his. quickly, you managed to swap postitions so it was him pressed against the wall.

from this vantage point, you were able to provide friction the both of you desperately needed. axel was moaning into your mouth and you were returning them. when your lips parted from each other, a string of saliva connected you two together as you panted breathlessly.

"leave me and my brother alone." you whispered, licking your lips and pecking his one last time before sauntering out of the room.

axel watched you go. he could leave miguel alone, sure. you on the other hand...

#axel kovacevic #axel cobra kai #cobra kai season 6 #axel kovacevic x reader #cobra kai x reader #axel kovacevic x diaz!reader

281 notes · View notes

ladybirdswritings · 3 months ago

Text

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at, and now he’s whisking you away on a date. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

three;

Your skin was drowned in amber and cashmere—rich, silken, and sparkling. Your hair was tied up in a bun, allowing a few mischievous ringlets to escape, highlighting the curve of your slender neck, and the pulse racing there.

Your dress was a deep violet, so deep that only under fluorescent lights could you see the purple hue—otherwise, it appeared black.

You looked gorgeous.

And nervous.

Entirely nervous, as you reapplied your gloss and paced the tile floor, where Kate and Axel eyed you suspiciously.

“Y/N, you really need to stop pacing. You’re making me anxious,” Kate snapped, having had enough of your shaky tirade. Axel nodded in agreement. “Calm down, you’re going to scare him away before he even gets here.” You scowled at that.

In the time since you and Clark had shared a quiet moment by the fire, when he trapped a ruby berry between your joined palms and blurted his desire to take you out, you’d texted sporadically and awaited a jolt to snap you from this dream.

“He’s definitely a serial killer,” you decided, and Kate pinched the space between her brows, shaking her head.

“Y/N, if he was a serial killer, don’t you think he would have killed you when you were alone at the bonfire?”

You huffed. “Ted Bundy had a girlfriend he adored. He didn’t chop her up into tiny pieces.”

“Oh my God…” your brother sighed, and Kate snorted.

Vera, Kate’s strawberry-blonde bombshell of a sister, stood and pressed warm palms against your shoulders. “Or maybe… you’re a really pretty girl, and he wants to take you on a date because he likes you. Duh.”

You gazed into the sincerity swimming behind her cyan eyes, nodding hesitantly. No, she was right. Your doubt, your pacing—it was just self-deprecation that had burrowed into your bones over the years. It had been so long.

Your ex was a jerk. Beyond that, he was cruel. His words still echoed in your mind.

You won’t find anyone else like me…

No one can deal with your baggage like I can…

No one else would want you like I do…

When you first dumped him, you were confident—until that confidence slowly evaporated, as time passed. Two years, in fact, with no strong man to keep you warm. All the boys you looked at were either taken or vile creatures who only wanted in your pants. Or worse—they didn’t want you back.

Vance was a great example.

Flirty, but noncommittal.

Yet for some reason, you still pined, and it made you feel pathetic.

The hum of the doorbell made your eyes widen to saucers. A cold chill kissed your skin.

“Do I look okay?” you nearly shouted in a whisper, anxious.

“You look great,” Vera promised, and you nodded, dragging your kitten-heel-clad feet toward the door.

The scent of pine from January’s chill lingered with honeyed whiskey, chai, and… flowers.

Flowers? Oh, you were definitely dreaming.

His glasses were lopsided and fogged, and he bumped them up with his wrist before offering the bouquet of creams, mauves, and navies toward you.

“Hi,” he breathed, furrowing his brows in frustration as the fog filtered his perfect view of his date. But he could smell you, and hummed a low, satisfied sound in his throat that you just missed.

“Hi.” You offered back, glancing anxiously at Vera and Kate, who hid their smiles behind their palms. You gently grabbed the flowers, fingertips grazing his, and brought them to your nose, inhaling their lovespelled scent.

“They’re… lovely. So lovely. Thank you, Clark.” He grinned, less lopsided than usual, and you handed them to Kate, who promised she’d find a vase before waving goodbye as you stepped outside.

A chill ran across your skin, and though Clark couldn’t see you clearly through his foggy lenses—too big for his face—he felt the ice linger on you. Without a word, he draped his suede blazer over your shoulders. It smelled of him, just like the bonfire, and you inhaled deeply, wrapping it closer.

Who taught him to be so… bookish?

“Come on,” he urged gently, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you to his sparkling navy truck.

You felt every bit the Miss Bennett to his Mr. Darcy as he offered you a warm, far larger than yours, palm and helped you into the elevated truck. Once inside, he quickly rounded to sit beside you. After buckling, he cleaned his glasses with the cloth of his navy shirt before tucking it back into his onyx pants.

Then he faced you and grinned again.

“Well, don’t you look purdy.” He teased, amplifying that Kansas twang, making a flush kiss your cheeks.

He was handsome. So handsome behind those glasses and his books and—well, everything. And here he was, on a date with you, one he initiated.

You’d been anticipating the night to go horribly wrong.

But it hadn’t just yet.

“So, I was thinking, I want to give you options. Mellow, casual—or fancy and… schmancy? Trust me, I don’t mind either. Especially not with you looking like that… uh—not that you don’t always look like that, I just mean—”

You arched a brow, watching the pinch return between his own chocolate brows. He met your eyes, catching the glint of mirth there. He huffed a laugh at his own expense. “I’m bombing this already, aren’t I?”

He tilted his head, his lazy grin making your head spin. You pursed your lips.

“Just a little,” you whispered, grateful that the moonlight cast enough of a shadow over your lips to show him you were joking. He laughed softly. A moment passed, and you realized you hadn’t answered his question.

“Is this another test of yours?”

His brows shifted upwards, and he smirked.

“Maybe.”

“Hmm…” Fancy schmancy restaurant sounded… exhausting. As pretty as you were, you knew very well you couldn’t keep up a tiresome charade for the entirety of the date. It wasn’t you. His pretty car and his Pinterest-worthy face made him seem like the type to prefer that option. But you decided that after you spoke your next words, he’d likely kick you out of his truck— and maybe that was okay.

“Mellow. Casual,” you whispered, and your heart dropped when his mouth turned into a thin line.

There it was.

Too good to be true.

Your palm itched for your seatbelt before that lopsided grin slid back onto his face.

“You’re trying to steal my heart, huh?” he whispered, perhaps more to himself, eyes roaming over your glossed lips. He offered a satisfied nod. “Okay, Y/N, hot chocolate or chai?”

•••

By the time you reached your destination, your eyes widened in awe at the glowing fluorescent letters.

THE WANDERING QUILL;

A bookstore.

You blinked, glancing toward Clark, who flexed his palm in an anxious manner whilst stepping out of the truck. Before shutting the door, he ducked back through it.

“Stay there,” he ordered, and you had to purse your lips together to stifle the giggle bubbling in your throat when he circled to open your door and offer you a veined hand.

Maybe this was a trap. Maybe this perfect stranger was leading you into a slaughterhouse, ready to slice your skin and pick his teeth with your bones.

“C’mon, purdie,” he whispered as you hesitated, grabbing his hand. He led you down with ease, his fingers twitching in your grasp, but he let go, not wanting to push you before he even had you.

“I’m taking you book shopping,” he said, his hand on the small of your back as he guided you through the doors. You were admittedly overdressed, but his suede jacket hid that from view.

It didn’t matter, though. The moment the scent of aged parchment and spiced chai kissed your nostrils, you almost melted in contentment.

“This is my favorite place,” he said, his voice snapping you back to your senses. You looked up, and he was already peering down at you with an anticipatory expression.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, and his lips twitched as he turned you sharply right and led you to a quaint café beside all the books. He was amused, perhaps because it was maybe the third word you’d spoken all evening. A flush spread across your skin at that realization. You were being too shy. He’d undoubtedly grow bored of you, tire of your muteness, and—

“What’re you thinking about?”

Your eyes snapped to attention, and his expression softened when you spoke.

“No one’s ever taken me to a bookstore,” you said, catching yourself. The barista handed him two warm cups of molten chocolate that made your mouth water. Goosebumps erupted as you wrapped your hands around it.

“Do you like it?” His voice carried hope, and you were far too naive to catch it. Your beaming face melted something in him—like a puppet freed from its strings.

“I do,” you promised, and his lips twitched again. He blew on his drink and led you to a corner behind the café, surrounded by gold-dusted pages and crimson and violet-bound books, like something straight out of a storybook. He swapped your cups, less scorching than before, and then grabbed his own. He tilted his chin, signaling you to take a sip.

You did, and when the molten chocolate coated your tongue, you nearly melted too.

Christ.

If he dumped you on the side of the road after this, at least you’d die with a stomach full of this delicacy.

He laughed—a subtle, joyful sound. “That’s good, right?”

You could only nod, sipping again in tandem with him. His eyes wandered over the books around you. Then you blinked when you read the cursive sign that displayed “romance” in bold letters.

“Okay,” he began, taking your cup gently from your hands, making you pout. As if afraid to wilt you, he guided you forward. And god, if your neck wasn’t so close—so suckable—he might have stopped there. “Um…”

You tensed, wondering if maybe your amber-and-cashmere scent was off, if you’d forgotten deodorant. Christ, your stomach dropped.

Then you felt it—his hand at your hip, warm and firm, much firmer than you expected from his sweaters and flannels. Slowly, it snaked around your waist. He was asking permission, not demanding anything.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, so low you almost missed it. His touch wasn’t sexual; it was exploratory, as if seeing just how the pretty, shy girl—who he’d seen in ridiculous hedgehog pajamas before this—could feel in his arms. You exhaled shakily and nodded.

“And this?” he whispered again, guiding you a step back, treating you like the delicate flower you were. You were back to chest with the bookish stranger you’d met just a week ago. Held. Wanted.

And though your paranoid, self-saboteur mind screamed that this would be disastrous, The gentle thrum of your heart told you this was exactly where you needed to be.

A breathy giggle escaped you as he tested a gentle squeeze on your hip.

He felt almost barbaric, on the verge of losing control as he buried his nose into your honeyed locks with a not-so-subtle inhale, followed by a grin. You smelled like fresh linens and gourmands, and if he were a lesser man, he’d tilt your chin up so to taste you with his starved tongue.

But you were shy, and he wasn’t a lesser man. Raised well by his parents, he only swayed you slightly, loosening the tension in your sharp bones.

“Alright,” he whispered, amusement in his voice, dipping his head low as if to shut out the noise of the world around you— as if to trap you both in this moment. He handed you your cup back, warm, though his body was warmer, and it took all your strength not to shiver and melt into him.

“How about this: you pick a book for me, and I pick one for you. We’ll read them, then when I take you out again, we’ll talk about them.”

When.

Already… when.

You swallowed hard, wondering for a moment if he was seducing you or if he was just a little mad. You were shy, quiet, and painfully awkward, yet he was planning a second date already.

Despite your racing mind, how you felt in that moment told an entirely different story. Maybe playing along wouldn’t be so bad.

“Deal,” you murmured, a mirrored grin tugging at the corner of your mouth. He swayed you again.

“Yeah? Okay. Romance only.” You nodded, “Romance only. Got it… close your eyes.”

And he did. His lashes brushed against your silvered ear as he lowered his head to steal another inhale. It took all his restraint not to pull you closer, not to lazily lick at the vanilla coating your skin.

Your fingers skimmed over the book spines for a long moment before settling on the first one that came to mind— Book Lovers by Emily Henry. Fitting, the title alone was enough, but beyond it— the meaning. Girl doesn’t believe in love, boy changes it… maybe this little game he had you playing could be more than just fun— maybe it could tell him something deeper.

For a moment, you considered playing it safer, but in the end, you decided against it, tucking the book to your chest. “Okay, your turn.”

His grin grazed the place just below your ear as he tilted his head up again, moving his hand from your hip to cover your eyes. You giggled, the sound light and sweet.

“No cheating, y/n,” he murmured, waiting patiently as he plucked a gold-trimmed book from the rattan shelf.

“I’m sure you know this one,” he added, tucking it to his side as you turned to face him, free from his warm grasp. You felt cold again.

“On three?” you offered, and the corner of his mouth lifted, a lazy grin spreading.

“Three,” he said, and your eyes widened as you quickly turned your book to him— and he did the same.

The Notebook.

“Oh, Clark.” His gaze shifted from your chosen book to his own, brows furrowing. “You’ve read it,” he concluded, but you shook your head. “Never even seen the movie.”

His brows lifted, blue-gray eyes widening slightly as he processed your words. A ringlet of onyx hair fell across his forehead as he checked his watch.

“Can I steal you for another… two hours?”

You just didn’t have it in you to say no…

275 notes · View notes

extinctlesspains · 5 months ago

Note

heyy can you pls do a kwon x y/n story, that y/n and Kwon are already dating and their in the Sekai Taikai as captains, and y/n is kreeses granddaughter and she’s a literal SOCIOPATH and blud is insane 💀 and she saves him from his death by taking the knife before he grabs it and running with it with another guy (probably Diego from the spanish dojo) from a dojo chasing her upstairs and she casually just pushes him off the railing and he’s the one that dies and y/n gets away with it and she’s like ‘it’s not my fault, he shouldn’t of chased me and he knew about the knife) and Kwons kinda like ‘wtff’ but he’s so in love 💀💀

A/n: LMAOOO THIS IS GOOD😭 I worked really hard on this y'all... I hope u enjoy 😓💕

𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝐷𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐾𝑤𝑜𝑛 𝐽𝑎𝑒-𝑠𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑡𝑏ℎ 𝑖𝑑𝑘... 𝐻𝑂𝑅𝑅𝑂𝑅? 𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐼𝐿𝐿𝐸𝑅?

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑆𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ��𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑠, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝐼𝑓 𝐷𝑖𝑒𝑔𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑒, 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢? 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟... 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑓𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑏𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑧𝑦 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑟, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛.

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

Kwon loved you. You were his partner, his love, his everything. Being the granddaughter of Kreese meant you were amazing at manipulation, combat, and you had ruthless intelligence. Enough to break a man in both body and man.

The way you carried yourself—poised, dangerous, and utterly indifferent to the weight of lives—was something that both terrified and fascinated him.

Today was no different. You stood tall at the forefront of the Cobra Kai team, your eyes scanning the other teams. Your expression was unreadable, but Kwon had learned to understand the little things—the subtle flickers of excitement behind those cold eyes, the way you moved ever so slightly when she was truly intrigued. He couldn’t help but admire you.

He thought today was no different yet it had become different.

It happened in the blink of an eye. As the match ended, a sudden commotion erupted behind you. A figure lunged at you from the shadows—Diego, the most dangerous fighter from the Spanish dojo, a man who’d been gunning you since their last encounter. He’d seen the way you moved, the way you fought, and he didn’t like it.

Kwon saw it all happening too fast and wanted to reach out and help you, but he already his hands full.

Diego was coming for you.

You didn't flinch, making your movements fluid, almost graceful, as you swiftly disarmed Kwon, who was holding a knife, when running past him. Your hand snatching the blade from his grasp before he could even comprehend what was happening.

In one smooth motion, you were on the move again, darting down the hallway with Diego hot on your heels.

Kwon’s heart raced as he began to follow, completely ignoring hi fight with Axel and leaving him baffled. There was something in the way you were moving now that made him hesitate. You weren't panicking. In fact, you were calm, almost too calm.

"Y/N!" Kwon shouted, running after you, his feet pounding on the stairs behind you. He saw Diego just behind you, the knife in his hand now, desperate to finish what he started.

You reached the staircase that overlooked the main arena, a steep drop to the lower level. You were running with fluid speed, effortlessly leading Diego up the stairs. But then, in an unexpected flash, you turned.

Kwon barely had time to process the movement before your hand shot out, shoving Diego in the chest. He didn’t even have a chance to scream before his body was sent careening over the railing, falling to the floor below with a sickening thud.

You casually brushed your hands together, as if nothing had happened.

You didn’t even look back.

Kwon stood at the top of the stairs, frozen in disbelief. His eyes locked on the twisted body of Diego sprawled at the bottom, blood slowly pooling beneath him. His thoughts were racing. What the hell just happened?

It was then that you turned to face him, your face eerily calm as you strolled back toward him, the knife still in hand. Your smile was so unsettling that it made his blood run cold.

"It’s not my fault," you said, tone utterly matter-of-fact. "He shouldn’t have chased me. He knew about the knife. He made his choice."

Kwon blinked, still processing your words. His heart was thudding in his chest. He knew exactly what you were saying, and part of him understood it, but the other part—the one that had been so in love with her—was beginning to unravel.

"You… you pushed him," he said, almost in disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow, expression never faltering. "Yes, I did," you replied simply. "But don’t worry. It’s not my fault. He was going to die anyway. If I hadn’t done it, someone else would’ve. It’s survival."

Your gaze softened for a moment, and Kwon swore he saw a flicker of something—regret, maybe? But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared.

You stepped closer, and for a moment, Kwon didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to shout, to be furious, but the other part—the part that had fallen for you, that couldn’t resist you—just melted under your gaze.

You were a monster, but you were his monster.

"I had to," she added with a shrug. "You understand, right?"

Kwon blinked, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts. He had always known you were dangerous—hell, he'd seen you kill before. But seeing you do it so... casually, as if it were nothing, unsettled him. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to be angry.

He reached out to you, pulling you close. His voice was soft, but there was a hint of something dangerous in it as he spoke. "You’re insane," he muttered, his forehead resting against yours.

You smirked, your hand trailing up his chest. "I know," you whispered. "But I’m your insane."

Kwon sighed, his heart still racing, but he couldn't deny the pull between you guys. You were a sociopath. You were ,terrifying. But you were his—and no one else would ever be able to tame you.

"Let’s go," You said, your voice light. "I’m bored of this place."

Kwon didn’t know whether he was going to survive this relationship. But he knew one thing for sure: He would follow you anywhere.

As you two walked off into the chaos of the Sekai Taikai, the crowd oblivious to the brutal death that had just taken place, Kwon couldn’t help but wonder what his life had become. But as long as he had you by his side, the world could burn, and he would still choose you.

After all, it was just self defense.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #miguel diaz #robby keene #daniel larusso #kwon cobra kai #johnny lawrence #kwon jae sung #kwon jae sung x reader #kwon cobra kai x reader #kwon

216 notes · View notes

velvrei · 4 months ago

Text

cozy christmas

pairing: axel kovacevic x reader

summary: you and axel go on a cutie little christmas date! 🎄

word count: 2k

…

the evening began in the most ordinary way, but with axel by your side, it quickly turned into something you knew you’d never forget.

you had agreed to go on a holiday stroll through town after work, one of those impromptu things where you had no real plans, just a vague idea of spending time together while the world around you decked itself out in christmas lights and cheer.

the first thing you noticed was the snow—it was soft, gentle, and made everything look like it belonged on a holiday postcard.

the chill in the air nipped at your cheeks and made your breath puff in little clouds as you walked beside him, bundled up in layers, with your scarf flung over your shoulders.

axel, ever the adventurer, had insisted that you leave the car behind and walk through the heart of the town’s Christmas market, which was tucked away at the end of Main Street.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” axel had said earlier that evening, a wide grin spreading across his face as his green eyes twinkled with mischief. “we can get a hot cocoa, check out the lights, and just… enjoy the vibe. what’s christmas without a little adventure?”

“adventure?” you had raised an eyebrow. “we’re just walking through the market, axel.”

“you’ll see,” he had said, “you’ll see.”

and you had, in fact, seen more than you had expected.

the first stop had been the cocoa stand, where axel—being, well, axel—had insisted on getting two extra-large cups for the both of you, making sure to get whipped cream, marshmallows, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

“i know what you like,” he had said with a knowing smirk as he handed you your steaming drink, his hands brushing against yours just a little longer than necessary.

the warmth of the cocoa seeped through the cup and into your hands, melting away the chill from the snowflakes that had landed on your scarf moments before.

“you really think you know me that well?” you had asked playfully, taking a sip of the drink.

the sweetness of the chocolate and the cream made you smile involuntarily. you could already tell this was going to be a good night.

“definitely,” axel had responded. “i mean, who else would order a drink with that much whipped cream?” he had flashed you a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous.”

“and you love it,” he had said, the smugness clear in his tone.

after that, you had spent the next hour or so meandering through the market, stopping here and there to admire the handmade ornaments, the sweet smell of roasted chestnuts in the air, and the colorful lights decorating every street corner.

everything felt like magic, like the entire town had conspired to make christmas as perfect as possible.

axel had pulled you toward a booth selling scarves, and you had spent a few minutes sifting through the soft fabrics, picking out your favorite colors.

he had insisted on picking out a new one for you, despite your protests.

“i told you, i’m fine. i don’t need anything else,” you had said, waving your hand dismissively. “i’m not cold. seriously.”

“nonsense,” axel had countered, already picking out a red scarf with a little tassel at the end. “this one’s perfect for you.”

the moment he had draped it around your neck, adjusting it just right, you had felt something stir inside you, something more than the usual warmth of a sweet gesture.

it was the way he looked at you, his green eyes gentle but with an unmistakable intensity that made your heart beat a little faster.

when he stepped back to admire his handiwork, a playful grin tugging at his lips, you had to swallow back the rush of emotions that suddenly hit you.

“perfect,” he had said, his voice soft. “it’s the right shade of red.”

you had laughed nervously, unsure of what to say. “thanks,” was all you had managed, but it had come out with more sincerity than you’d expected. “it’s really nice.”

it didn’t take long before the two of you had found a cozy bench by the giant christmas tree that dominated the center of the park.

the tree was grand, far bigger than any tree you’d ever seen, decorated with thousands of lights that twinkled in time with the soft music playing in the background.

there were people sitting all around, sharing quiet moments, but it was the two of you who were completely caught up in the scene.

you had sat down first, your legs tucked under the red-and-green blanket axel had gotten from one of the market stalls, and axel had sat down beside you, his thigh brushing against yours.

a soft silence fell over the both of you as you took in the beauty of the tree, the lights blinking in the crisp air, the snowflakes softly falling around you. for a moment, everything else disappeared, and you were left with just the two of you in the middle of this magical world.

axel shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he could look at you more directly.

his gaze was soft but intense, and you could feel the weight of it.

“you know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “this is probably my favorite part of christmas.”

you turned to him, your brow furrowing a little. “this? sitting here?”

“yeah,” he replied, his smile small but sincere. “just being here with someone who actually makes the holiday feel… real, you know? like, all this stuff—” he gestured to the lights, the tree, the people walking past, “it’s nice. but it doesn’t really mean anything unless you’ve got someone to share it with.”

your heart fluttered in your chest, and you couldn’t help but feel something stir deep inside you. it wasn’t just his words.

it was the way he said them, like he wasn’t talking about christmas itself, but about the connection the two of you had built over time. something about it made you feel warm, like you were part of something bigger than the world outside.

“that’s… sweet,” you whispered, turning your head slightly to catch his eye.

axel shrugged, but his grin never wavered. “yeah, well. i can be a softie when i want to.”

you laughed softly, bumping your shoulder against his. “you’re full of surprises.”

“you have no idea,” axel said, his voice teasing, and you could see the familiar glint of mischief return to his eyes.

after a while, the two of you had moved from the park and wandered back into the heart of the market. there were more stalls, more people, more laughter.

it was the perfect night, the kind of night where nothing seemed out of place and everything was just… right. axel had promised that the surprises were far from over, and true to his word, he had led you to an old-fashioned carriage ride that was decorated with christmas wreaths.

“this,” axel had said, handing you a woolen blanket, “is my next grand idea.”

you had laughed, your cheeks rosy from the cold. “you’re really going all out with this, huh?”

“why not?” axel had replied, his hand warm against yours as he guided you into the carriage. “christmas is all about making memories. and you’re a very memorable person.”

the ride through town had been absolutely magical. the clop of the horse’s hooves had echoed in the crisp air, and you’d both watched the twinkling lights of the town pass by in a blur, the world around you lit up in all its christmas glory.

the carriage was warm and cozy, and axel kept glancing at you from time to time, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

after the ride, you found yourselves walking back toward the car, the streets lit up with christmas cheer. your hands brushed together again, but this time, axel’s fingers lingered, his grip tightening slightly as he pulled you closer.

you didn’t pull away, instead allowing the soft warmth of his hand to settle into yours. your heart raced, and you couldn’t quite explain why it felt so natural.

“you’ve really outdone yourself tonight,” you said softly, your voice full of admiration.

“well,” axel teased, “what can i say? i like to make sure you have a good time.”

“you definitely succeeded,” you said with a soft smile, “and it’s not even over yet, is it?”

axel grinned, his eyes twinkling. “oh, it’s far from over.”

and true to his word, by the time the night came to a close, the two of you had shared everything from hot cider to more kisses beneath the twinkling streetlights.

the world around you had melted into the background, leaving you with nothing but the warmth of the holiday spirit and the man beside you, who had made this night more than you could have ever imagined.

when axel dropped you off at your door later that evening, his eyes were soft, his smile easy, but there was something else—a knowing look, like he had just shared a secret with you that you didn’t even know you were part of.

he stepped out of the car, walking you to your front door with that same relaxed, confident air that you had come to love about him.

“thanks,” you murmured as you reached for the door. “seriously. this has been the best christmas eve ever.”

“just wait until christmas,” axel said, his voice full of promise. “i’ve got a few more surprises up my sleeve.”

and as you kissed him goodbye under the soft glow of your porch light, you couldn’t help but smile. this christmas—this night—had already been something you’d never forget.

…

hope you enjoyed! i’m so excited for christmas

🎄🎄

taglist: @karmaswitch @mamasfavourite @justchillin13 @timotheechalametswifeys @jeonkoowife @yoyouourmum @astreiz @adv3rs1ty @yslbaeee @amnesique @yaya-1loveart @izzyelise11

150 notes · View notes

taegularities · 1 year ago

Text

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep.

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching.

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh…

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

921 notes · View notes

hiddenreamers · 5 months ago

Text

Telegraph Road 1977 & 2024 - Lando Norris

SUMMARY: For Lando, the words "first love" just make him think of his childhood neighbour. Then, his heart breaks a little when he remembers she's somewhere in San Francisco. How surprised he is when it turns out you're much closer - in an apartment across the hall. Lando couldn't be more grateful for the strange mysteries that led you to this doorway.

WC: 983

Everybody has those moments when they are suddenly reminded of someone they knew long ago. Old classmates, kids from summer camp, playground friends – people who once were part of your daily life but now you think about them maybe once a year if not less often. Those silent questions of “I wonder what happened to them?” come and go just as quickly, like a golden brown leaf carried by the wild, autumn wind.

Lando is something of an exception to that rule. The thoughts of his old neighbour never quite leave him, as though his autumn is more of a perpetuity than a season. Despite the passage of time, that curious quirk of his stuck. However, the why has changed. While still a child, he’d ponder the memories of you simply out of longing. It is only natural when one’s closest companion is gone one day. Then, as his young heart began revolving around crushes, dates and girlfriends, Lando suffered an epiphany. Finally, he understands! It was as if on some random Tuesday lightning had struck him – it was love he felt for you, not just friendship. And what a tale of one’s first love it told! “We were inseparable, soulmates, if you will, when one day she moved away and I never heard from her again.” Truly, a drama worth a thousand novels.

Little does he know, that those strange mysteries that separate lovers, sometimes lead them to each other’s doorways…

Lando is closing his front door, when the sound of paws tapping the floor grabs his attention. Without much thought, he looks down the corridor.

The tapping belongs to a rather happy-looking Scottish setter. He recognizes the breed only because he’s spent his childhood running around a small British town with you and two of those dogs. Despite the lingering memories of the past, Lando doesn’t mind the pet any longer, again focusing on his own things. Then, a strangely familiar voice distracts him again:

“Come on, Axel! We’ll have plenty of time to make friends later.”

Almost giving himself whiplash, Lando looks for the source of the sound. Could it be…?

You’re a little surprised when you hear someone calling out your name in a questioning manner. As far as you know, none of your friends live in Monaco. So how come someone here knows you? Fixing your grip on the box labelled Kitchen, you take a look around the corridor.

For a moment, you think you’re just seeing things. But you’ve stared at that face for so long, you could recognize him in the darkest, most inexplicable fever dream; the face that you’ve associated with home for your whole life.

“Oh my God, Lando Norris!” you exclaim between chuckles. “I can’t believe it!”

His cheeks redden a little. “You remember me?” The question has a distinct tone of surprise.

“Of course I do! You were my best friend,” you say. “Well, the only friend for a few years,” you add, your voice noticeably quieter than before.

“What are you doing here? I thought your family moved to San Francisco.”

It is only then that Lando truly sees who you’ve become throughout all those years away. Perhaps you are more beautiful than he could imagine but you’re also much sadder. There’s a wistful look in your eye, a tell-tale sign of maturity that is only born out of tears. He can only wonder what pains have brought you back to him.

“At first, it was San Francisco, then New York, Chicago, L.A… I never fit in anywhere. They’re all very lonely cities, you know?” Just for a second, your eyes become glossy. His heart feels a painful sting that only gets worse as you force a wide smile on your face. You’ve had practice in faking happiness, haven’t you? “But enough about me, it’s not that interesting,” you say in a casual tone. “Congratulations on your driving career. Seriously, you’re amazing. Would it be creepy if I admitted now that I’ve watched every single one of your races?”

“Not as creepy as admitting I’ve stalked your social media and never followed you because I thought you don’t remember me.”

“Are you dead serious right now?” Lando’s sheepish smile earns a loud laugh from you. “You should have tried anyway!”

“Funny that you’re the one to say that,” he retorts. “Why didn’t you message me if you’re such a big fan?”

Flustered, you look away for a moment. “Honestly, I thought it would be weird,” you confess. “I was sure you’d forgotten all about me and pulling this ‘we were childhood friends’ schtick now that you’re famous would be so embarrassing. You’re this top-of-the-top racing driver and I’m, well, me.” A bitter chuckle comes after your words but the faux amusement isn’t enough to fool Lando.

“You’re staying for long in Monaco?” His question is accompanied by a light gesture towards the box in your arms.

“As long as they don’t fire me, I guess.” That strange, sad laughter again. “Listen, you look like you have somewhere to be and I’ve already taken up too much of your time. You could come by in the evening, catch up if you want?” Your tone rises, revealing uncertainty about whether the invitation is welcome.

But to him, the answer is obvious. “I’d love that.”

You give him one last smile, then disappear behind the door to your apartment.

In some sense, he has you back. Not the girl he remembers, no. Something innate seems to be gone from your soul but Lando lacks the words to name the change. The sights, the loves, the pains – whatever it was that took your life on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, it sprouted melancholy in the very marrows of your bones.

“What happened to you?” he whispers to himself.

The only answer that comes is muffled footsteps and the shuffling of cardboard boxes.

Check out other fics in the Ampersand Themed Works

147 notes · View notes

beardedjoel · 2 months ago

Note

💗🎉💗CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!💗🎉💗

I’m so happy for you! I found you through Closer, and I couldn’t be happier about it. You’re an amazing writer and such a lovely person!

I’m wondering… what about one of these?🌹the prompt number 1. I love your writing and I cannot stop myself from asking. Perhaps with Joel, or Frankie, or Pero…I’m not picky, I’ll be happy with whatever the inspiration leads you.

Alsooooo… Is it too much if I add a little bit of 💌? I’m curious about your writing process. How do you do it? Is it linear, or do you jump around, and later “paste it”?

wym, you're so sweet and i love sharing this space with you my friend 😘 thank you for sending in this prompt and allowing me to do something special with it. thanks for your patience as i have been painstakingly slow with making my way through this backlog of requests! i'll answer your thoughtful writing question at the very bottom of the post after the one shot, if that's alright!

axel and ember — joel x f!reader

request: "overwhelmed, but happy crying during sex". sent in as part of my 5k celebration! i decided to use this one for something very personal to me. as someone who has dealt with vaginismus, this was challenging to write the last few days but it felt like the right direction for me to go in with this prompt. in no way does this describe the experience every person with vaginismus has (nor 100% true to mine), and it is a lot of hard work to help your body and mind learn to work with the sexual obstacles that come with it. i simplified things for the purpose of this story but still found it really gratifying to write so much from personal experience and feelings that i have dealt with. i highly encourage anyone who has not heard of vaginismus to do a little research as it's something that many, many women deal with in silence or is ignored as much of women's sexual health is. happy reading 💓

wc: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader has vaginismus, unprotected piv

“Maybe… maybe it just doesn’t fit.”

You’d said the words, exasperated after trying for the third time that week.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, darlin’,” Joel teases the words playfully, his hair hanging down into his face as he holds himself perched above you. His smile brusquely fades when he sees that you’re genuinely upset. Some days, it hadn’t been that big of a deal, you’d been able to shrug off the frustration. Today, however, you felt frayed and emotional, pissed off that your body couldn’t just behave like a normal body should. It’s infuriating, living in a body that won’t cooperate with your mind, seeing others do with ease what you never could. What you could only have as a fantasy.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He leans down, kissing you softly before moving from where he’d been stationed on top of you to lay at your side.

Another dream of finally having sex with your boyfriend tonight slipped away in an instant.

“What if I try the dilators again?” you ask desperately, meeting Joel’s gaze. His warm eyes look back at yours with empathy, and he shrugs.

“If y’want. But maybe you should jus’ rest. We already had our fun, yeah?”

He’d gotten you off, you’d gotten him off. Fingers and tongues and mouths, which admittedly were great, but you craved to know what more of him felt like, more than just the one, sometimes two fingers you could handle without soon wincing in discomfort.

You wanted him inside of you, wanted your bodies joined in the way that you were so cruelly being denied by the universe.

“N-no, you’re right. It was fun.” You flash him a somewhat forced smile, grateful for his patience and love when he wraps his arms around you. Joel had been such a constant with you, so wonderful, and that only made it hurt more that you couldn’t give him this. He’d never pressured you, never made you feel at fault these last five months you’d been dating. In some ways, it had brought you closer, not being able to rush into sex, but it didn’t mean that he’d stick around forever if it meant he couldn’t get the one thing you know men always want.

“We’re gonna get it one of these days,” he reassures you, stroking your hair. “You’re workin’ hard at your sessions and here at home. Don’t tell you enough that I think it’s great, seein’ you tryin’ all of that. But don’t do it for me, okay? Do it ‘cause it’s what you want.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. You were of course doing all of this work for yourself, so that you could freely enjoy something that should come so naturally to your body. Yet you knew that deep down the pressure was mounting, wanting to give Joel the sexual satisfaction you assumed he craved, something that your hands and mouth couldn’t give him. It was putting up a block between you and your sexuality, making each interaction that much more strained and distressing. You’re surprised Joel caught on to all of that when you’d been trying to put on a brave face for him.

“I - I know,” you concede with a sigh. “I’m afraid sometimes. That I’ll never be enough without this piece of me.”

Joel’s deep set brow furrows further, looking hurt - for you or for himself, you can’t quite tell. His lips set into a firm line before they part, readying to speak. “I think you’re pretty damn amazing the way that y’are. I want that for us, ‘course I do. But I’d rather jus’ have you, whatever, however you are.”

“You would?” you ask sentimentally, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You laugh slightly, wiping under your eyes, knowing your question is ridiculous but still needing that extra validation that he’s sure. That he’s okay continuing to try this with you, even if it never results in anything.

“Yes, silly. Why do you think I’ve kept you around all this time?”

“‘Cause I find us all the good TV shows to watch?”

He laughs, his burly chest shaking with it. “Quit bein’ a pest, I’m tryin’ to be serious with you,” he quips back, trying and failing to hold back his chuckle.

“I know. I know what you’re saying, Joel. I -“ You swallow, your face falling, pulled back into the seriousness of the moment. “I appreciate you. So, so much.” You reach and wrap your arms tightly around him. You relish in the feeling of being close to him, your naked bodies melding together, the heater-like quality of Joel always comforting to you.

“You’re all the good in this relationship, baby.”

“Who’s being a pest now?” You flick his chest, sending the both of you into a fit of laughter again, giddy at the late hour and the tax of this evening leaving you emotionally spent.

The voice deep inside your mind taunts you as you slowly listen to Joel falling asleep next to you, his breath falling to a rhythmic pattern interlaced with tiny, endearing snores. You hold back tears that come in the dark, feeling so small and alone in this moment, knowing that despite his reassurances, he could never truly understand how this feels for you.

The next few weeks go by with much of the same - you’re busy with life, work, friends, and going to your physical therapy sessions. It was awkward at first all those months ago, laying there bare underneath the sheet while a woman practically had half her hand inside of you, but you got used to it, even started to look forward to hearing about her life and her kids.

You and Joel try a few more times to no avail, your body once seeming to have a breakthrough before promptly making you inhale sharply in pain, shaking your head dejectedly.

You try to let it go, let all of it go. Learn that life doesn’t surround this, it simply can’t if you don’t want this pressure, this hole in your heart that you think you need to fill, to eat you alive. This cannot mean that you’re broken, that nobody could want to be with someone born with their factory settings just a little bit off.

You see it on Joel’s face and in his demeanor, proudly taking note of the change within you. You start to pounce on him every chance you get, fueled by trying to feed this new, insatiable mental freedom you’ve allowed yourself. If you couldn’t have the sex you were dreaming of just yet, you figured that in the meantime you may as well make the sex you are having something new to dream about.

Joel, as predicted, is highly receptive to your new outlook, hands and lips all over you more often than not the second you step through his door to spend the night with him. You find yourself laughing with him when you’re being intimate instead of focusing on that pit in your stomach that worries if this time could finally be the time. You’ve done away with taking it far too seriously to even enjoy when your gracious boyfriend is buried between your legs like it’s his favorite thing. Now, you can appreciate all of it for what it is - a way to connect with Joel, to share something special and fun and sexy together.

You lie in bed with Joel this evening, cackling as you two take turns narrating excerpts from a friend’s most recent read in the romance department that she’d lent you. For inspiration, she’d teased, saying it might help your mind and body become more open to connecting with one another on the topic of sex. You’d taken it with a grain of salt but now it was the evening's top entertainment. You had to admit that she had a point - it did feel nice to read about characters that were so sexually open that anything seemed possible for them.

“The people in these books are unreal,” you manage to get out through your laughter, wiping the stream of tears that coats your cheeks. Joel wipes at the corners of his own eyes, still chuckling.

“Wouldn’t mind givin’ some of these a try one of these days, bet you’d be sexy flipped upside down or whatever the hell they were doin’,” Joel says, propped up on his elbow, his handsome eyes smoldering in your direction. The implication that many of the acts the fictional couple are doing involves things that your body hasn’t been cooperating enough to even go near makes you stiffen for a moment. Maybe a month ago, the comment would have wrecked you, sent you spiraling or feeling self conscious about this perceived insufficiency of yours, but now you let it slide right off your back.

You scrunch your nose at him, letting it fall into a sly smile as he flicks his eyes over you in appreciation. “Shush,” you tease. “We need to find out what happens next to… whatever their names are.” This had all been in good fun, and their names seemed secondary to the juicy details of their sex lives.

“Axel and Ember.” Joel cuts in, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You deadpan. “Right… Someone has been paying attention.”

“Go on, then…” Joel insists with sass, his hand motioning expectantly to the open book in your lap. You smirk before focusing on the page and continuing where you left off. You two read until both of your eyelids get heavy, the words muttered slower and slower, your bodies buzzing hotly with arousal from the content yet far too tired to do anything to make a move on the other person.

“Tomorrow,” Joel utters in your ear just as you’re moving into that cozy, floaty, drifting sensation before it all goes black. “Tomorrow I’m gonna Axel your ass into oblivion.”

You’re awoken by a kiss, feather light upon your lips. Your lids flutter open to see Joel, his scruffy beard and unbearably cute bed head up close and personal with you. It’s barely light out, the room bathed in the pale blue glow that comes right before dawn. Your skimpy camisole strap has slid off your shoulder, the entire thing askew and leaving one of your tits bared to him. Joel’s eyes seem to be glued there before flicking back and forth between your now perky nipple and your face. His lips close around it, gently sucking, and you writhe, your body turning towards his.

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he mutters against your hot skin, breath ghosting over your sensitive nipple. You shudder, your skin prickling with anticipation, the space between your thighs desperately empty. Going to bed so unsatisfied seemed to have done a number on the both of you as you’re now acutely aware Joel pressing up against you, his cock already hard and leaking.

“Joel…” you whine, hips bucking towards him.

He dives in, his lips devouring yours, shifting his body to straddle yours, grasping the sides of your face in his hands. His tongue laps into your mouth and you arch your back into the way his hips start to grind into yours, burning desire low in your belly. You’re already so damn wet from his teasing, more than you’ve ever been, built up longing spilling over from last night.

“I… want to try right now,” you finally manage to gasp out as his lips separate from yours for a brief second. He pauses, looking down at you, his heavy lidded eyes sincere as they dance over your features.

“You sure? It’s okay if we jus’ -”

“No. I’m sure,” you tell him. “I feel so good. I want to feel good with you.” Your fingers dig into his bare back, urging him on.

He only nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows. He places gentler kisses on your lips before moving to your neck, then down your body until he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts. Tugging those down along with your panties, he moves with certainty and care, adoring your soft skin in every place along the way.

He touches a gentle finger to your slit, so sensitive and swollen now, and you suck in a breath.

“Holy shit. God damn, baby,” he muses with awe, fire burning in his dark eyes.

You chuckle shakily, feeling your cheeks flush as you avert your eyes shyly. “I - I know. I need you.”

“Can practically feel her puslin’,” he growls, licking his lips, desire clouding his mind.

Your cheeks only grow hotter at his dirty words, pulling your lip between your teeth. “Taking a page from Axel’s book, I see,” you tease him breathily.

“Nah. This is all Joel Miller, baby,” he replies just as he uses his whole hand to cup your slick cunt, the both of you groaning quietly. Joel starts to shimmy his briefs down, leaving him completely stripped underneath the covers with you. You wait for him to climb back on top of you, carefully removing your top and taking you in.

“Perfect.” He smiles, and you wrap your legs around his waist, a silent signal that you’re ready. Joel reaches between your bodies, bringing his cock to your cunt, lazily moving it through the folds until he’s coated in your arousal, each stroke making your hips buck, your need climbing to an unbearable level.

“Please…” you whine, feeling the emptiness inside of you, craving that full sensation you’ve been romanticizing time and time again in your mind.

“I got you, baby. No matter what. I’m right here, ‘kay?” You feel him line himself up, trying to manage your expectations as you nod for him, swallowing down your nerves. Even if it doesn’t work this time, it’ll be okay, you’ll be oka -

The tip of his cock pushes past your entrance, and you gasp, eyes going wide. You both pause, staring at each other in an optimistic, full silence, breathing heavily.

You nod again, mouth agape. “More…” you whisper softly, taking a deep breath, trying to relax your body.

Joel smiles, pressing his hips into you the tiniest bit more. He still slides in with ease, the smallest pinch subsiding when he takes a beat, then pushes a little more, repeating the process a few times. You feel the stretch, the slight burn as your body adjusts, your mind racing at the miracle that’s occurring, barely even able to register it right now.

“Oh my god,” you mutter, starting to shake. Joel leans down to kiss you, a comforting move, but it only pushes his cock in another bit, making you gasp softly at the fullness.

To your shock, when he pulls back the sensation begins to near something pleasurable. “Sorry,” he quickly spits out, his concerned stare meeting yours.

“No. It’s good. A-again. Do that again.” You start to smile in earnest, a toothy grin that you can’t help but feel spread across your face.

“What… this?” he asks coyly, more overt with the thrust inwards as he pulls his lips into yours. He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and kissing the sensitive skin there. “You’re so wet, so fuckin’ tight, baby. You feel incredible.”

You shudder underneath him, moaning softly as his words travel right to your core, burning with a new kind of eagerness you’ve never felt before. “You feel so good,” you echo back to him as you pant.

Joel starts to move, testing the waters with slow, steady movements. You keep breathing, terrified that any minute the ball will drop or this will have been a dream or some cruel trick your body is playing on you. But the sporadic bursts of discomfort subside with each new roll of Joel’s hips, blooming into something pleasurable and sweet, pulling up from deep inside of you.

Emotion bubbles to the surface before you can even tame it, your eyes brimming with tears when Joel bottoms out inside of you, pulling back and pushing in to the hilt again. It feels good, amazing even, to be so full of him, to celebrate this victory, even if only for today.

“Shit. Sweetheart, you’re okay, right? Are you hurting?” Joel freezes when he sees your watery eyes, every muscle coiled stiffly, his face screwed up in fear.

You shake your head, fighting the urge to sob, but Joel’s faithful, genuine concern puts you over the edge. Tears spill, rolling down your cheeks in profound little streaks, every bit of your frustration and pain and anger from the last half of a year pouring out into this beautiful display of pure joy.

“I swear, I’m happy, I’m happy,” you cry out, immediately cradled in Joel’s arms.

“Good,” Joel breathes out in relief. “You’re happy, I’m the happiest fuckin’ guy in the world.”

His words make the tears flow faster, but you start to laugh amidst it all. “Stop making me cry harder!” you chastise him, hugging him tightly around the neck.

“Joel…” you say after a long, tender embrace, the two of you soaking it in. His cock still throbs inside of you, reminding you of the pleasure you’d started to chase moments ago, lost to the emotion of the moment.

“Hm?” he asks, pulling his head from where it had been buried in the crook of your to look at you.

“Please fuck me now.”

He grins, the movement lighting up his entire face with a lusty glow before he eagerly crashes his lips with yours again. When you see his eyes again, you swear they’re a shade darker, his cheeks tinged with the color of desire. Low and gravelly, he finally speaks.

“Grab your god damned vibrator, sweetheart.”

to answer your 💌 my writing process is a little all over the place! i used to write mostly linearly, that was what worked for me and i kind of thought of everything in order. but lately i have been doing a bit more doc hopping when i get stuck. maybe writing a later scene that i have ideas for and feel like it's more fleshed out or going back and polishing older paragraphs and such. i definitely am not a big outliner and plotter, which i'd like to get better about! but mostly everything just lives in my head and gets blobbed onto the doc once i have time to write it, which sometimes leaves things forgotten hehe

(divider by @/saradika-graphics!)

#julie's 5k celebration #julie's 5k celebration fic #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #x reader #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

164 notes · View notes