#a lot of time was spent on explaining the predicament which was great but i didnt quite understand the actual reveal | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1kook · 4 years ago

Text

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all.

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms.

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization.

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him?

You’re not so sure.

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows.

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed.

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did.

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?”

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that.

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you.

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes.

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise.

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well.

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows.

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments.

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary.

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight.

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise.

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s.

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face.

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth.

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self.

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first.

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups.

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.”

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features.

Oh, you loved this man.

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane.

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway.

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself?

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on.

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.”

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car.

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant.

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you.

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass.

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass.

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit.

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks.

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe.

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear.

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs.

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck.

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush.

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river.

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river.

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!”

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is.

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.”

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song.

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off.

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign.

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device.

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line.

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?”

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?”

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.”

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred?

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend?

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate.

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell.

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk�� many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird!

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at.

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?”

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words.

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?”

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.”

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut.

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead.

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again.

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account.

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?”

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now.

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook.

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.”

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms.

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing.

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes.

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.”

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat.

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment.

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze.

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river.

“I thought he was cool before.”

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you.

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth.

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor.

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?”

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?”

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own.

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.”

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.”

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling.

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen.

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud.

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief.

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship.

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.)

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man.

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot.

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim.

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either.

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.”

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”)

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes.

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.”

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement.

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.”

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes.

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself.

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone.

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura.

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.”

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end.

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.”

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly.

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is.

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead.

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them.

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.”

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.”

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr.

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet.

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again.

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue.

You whimper. “That hurt.”

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey.

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see.

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck.

Of course.

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss.

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it.

And you’re all too ready to act on it.

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy.

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw.

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare.

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him.

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds.

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair.

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips.

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit.

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders.

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you.

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull.

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around.

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you.

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up.

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view.

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings.

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you.

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely.

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise.

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth.

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness.

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest.

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor.

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes.

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air.

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead.

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions.

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been.

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table.

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again.

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs.

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true.

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low.

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you.

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you.

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix.

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin.

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction.

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper.

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust.

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly.

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface.

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed.

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy.

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why.

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home.

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you.

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad.

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying.

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses.

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes.

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside.

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds.

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly.

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?”

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder.

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you.

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit.

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you.

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different.

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap.

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out.

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath.

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds.

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.”

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly.

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you.

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic.

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom.

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet.

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums.

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?”

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?”

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you.

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house.

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise.

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors.

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.”

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag.

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts jungkook #bts fic #bts smut #mine

4K notes · View notes

photogirl894 · 3 years ago

Note

Hello genius! I love your writing!

Could you maybe do fluff/relationship #4 with Tech, please?

"Genius"?? 😲🤭 Oh my gosh, you are far too kind!! I am so not worthy of such high praise! Thank you, @jonesandjoanna !! 💜

There could not be a more perfect prompt for Tech! 😆 I love it!! (The wording is slightly rearranged, but the point still gets across.)

"Isn't it Obvious?"

4. “Because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

Pairing: Tech x fem reader

***

Whenever things needed repaired on the Marauder, Tech usually had Echo or Omega help him out, but recently he started soliciting your help, as well, which you didn't mind at all. Every so often, you wondered if Tech perhaps had a crush on you, but he was hard to read. More often than not, his behavior towards you didn't always seem that different from how he behaved around the rest of the squad. Maybe he was just more comfortable around you. You were one of the only ones who let him go off on his rambles without giving him a hard time. Though, if he did have a crush on you, you knew you wouldn't mind it. Sometimes, the thought of the two of you being together romantically made your heart skip a beat. He was kind and a complete gentleman. However, you figured that romance was probably the last thing on Tech's mind, so you were fine with just keeping things the way they were. As long as you still got to have time with him, that was all that mattered.

One day, you were helping Tech get the central systems of the ship back up and running. He was on his back underneath the control console in the front of the ship and you were kneeling between the two pilots seats.

"Hand me the spanner," he requested.

After giving him what he asked for, you commented to him, "You know, you have to repair things on this ship a lot. Maybe you guys should look at getting a new one."

"That would not be the most prudent course of action," he replied as he kept working. "As long as things in the ship can be fixed and still prove functional, then there's no need to replace the whole ship. If anything, we would just continue replacing parts that cease working. The ship itself is perfectly fine."

You grinned and shook your head. "Whatever you say, Tech."

"Do you doubt my assessment, (Y/N)?" he inquired.

"No, you make a good point," you answered.

Tech came out from under the console and moved up to one knee in front of you as he put his tool back into the toolbox. "This is why I like when you work with me," he said, rearranging things in the box without looking at you. "You support my various analyses of different things."

You snickered. "That's the reason you have me help you? Because I agree with you all the time?"

"Not exactly. There are other reasons, as well."

"Like what?"

He turned to look at you, a puzzled expression on his face. "Isn't it obvious? It's because I fell for you."

It suddenly felt like you were hit over the head with a brick and you thought your jaw was going to hit the floor. Did Tech really just say that?

"Y--you...you what?" you stammered out in disbelief. "You actually fell for me?"

"Indeed," was his simple reply.

"Since when?" you questioned in disbelief.

He appeared a little taken aback, seeming genuinely surprised that you didn't know. "I can't place an exact moment for sure, but I do know it's been some time," he explained. "Your outgoing personality and charming wit drew me to you and I found great enjoyment in the time I spent with you. I wanted that to continue, but I didn't wish to put any sort of pressure on you for anything, so I presumed that enlisting your help with repairs and such would prove to be an ideal solution to that predicament. However, I understand if you do not return the sentiments and--"

"Tech, would you just shut up?" you finally interrupted him before reaching out to grasp his face with your hands, pulling him forward and placing a sweet, lingering kiss on his lips, the two of you feeling fireworks explode within you.

Then you pulled back, gave him a playful smirk and said to him, "Isn't it obvious? I fell for you, too."

He grinned at you, his cheeks turning uncharacteristically pink as he admitted, "For once...I'm pleased that what I thought was obvious turned out to be wrong."

You smiled brightly and shook your head. Tech was an odd one sometimes...but he was your odd one and you wouldn't have changed that about him for the whole galaxy.

20 Fluff/Relationship prompts

More Tech fics

Bad Batch Writing Requests

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch tech #the bad batch prompts #tech x reader

216 notes · View notes

floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song iii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, eventual smut, eventual angst, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, lots of lasagne talk, flirting, kissing, fluff 🥰 words; 9,340

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

After you had time to calm down, of course you ended up telling Soojung about what happened on the date. You kept some things to yourself, mainly about how giddy you had felt throughout the whole thing, but you were sure she could see that for herself – she kept looking at you knowingly, and for once she kept the teasing down to a minimum. You ended up staying awake quite late, Soojung opening a bottle of wine. You were still excited from the date and the thought of what was to come next, but somewhere along the line, you and your best friend started getting into your feelings. (Was it really a Saturday night until you and Soojung ended it with slightly drunk sappy heart to hearts and hugs? Obviously not…)

For the first time in a while you felt comfortable enough to open up about your love life (or lack of one) and felt it easy to talk about the past and to even bring up Donghae. He was a forbidden topic for the most part, no matter how much you were over him, but tonight had changed something. You didn’t know how to explain it, and no, it wasn’t because Seokjin was somehow the man of your dreams who had magically made things better with just one date. That was dumb and only happened in cliché Hallmark movies.

No, it was because tonight had shown you that life goes on. No matter what rock bottom you hit, or how long it took you to get over it, no hurt was forever. You’d been single for a long time, and happy at that – after you’d gotten over the heartbreak of Donghae cheating on you – but tonight you’d had fun. You’d enjoyed yourself, enjoyed Seokjin’s company. You didn’t know what would come of your second date, or if there would be a third, but you were okay with that. You were just living in the moment, and right now you really liked that infuriating-not-so-infuriating bastard.

You were taking a chance, just like he was, and it was actually pretty exciting…

You woke up late the next morning, something you didn’t reprimand yourself for because it was summer break after all, but also, you had a raging wine headache that had needed all the shut eye it could get. Your head was still throbbing slightly as you reached for your phone on the bedside table but seeing a text from Seokjin waiting for you made it miraculously disappear.

Seokjin (10:28am) Hi Y/N, Thank you for such a great time last night. I can’t wait until Saturday. Would it be alright with you if I kept in touch throughout the week? Seokjin

You giggled to yourself at his insane formalities. Why was that so adorable? But most importantly how could he be both cute and sexy at the same time? He was hellbent on making you lose your mind. You thought about teasing him, asking him when he’d grown comfortable enough to drop the Regards from yesterday, but despite how well last night had gone, and despite how much you loved joking around with him in person, over the phone seemed different. You were still a little nervous – giddy nervous, but nervous, nevertheless. Your conversation from last night with Soojung came back to you, reminding you that this was all too real. You were potentially catching feelings for this man, and it was new, and exciting, but equal parts terrifying now that you’d woken up with a hangover.

Everything you typed out in reply seemed way too stiff, so growing frustrated, you settled on an emoji to cut through the formalities.

You (10:49am) I had such a lovely time too, Seokjin. Of course it’s fine to keep in touch. I’m looking forward to Saturday night! 😊

What did he mean exactly about keeping in touch?, you wondered as you got out of bed, padding your way down the stairs and into the kitchen for a much needed glass of ice cold water. A good morning text? A how are you? You knew he was busy with work all week, so you weren’t expecting too much, but just knowing he wanted to stay in contact until next Saturday made you smile to yourself as you waited for his response.

You didn’t have to wait long.

Seokjin (10:55am) Great! I’m so excited to try your World famous Italian lasagne 😁

Cute. He’d followed your lead, ditching the last of the formalities and even signing off with an emoji instead. You instantly felt more at ease, but –

Oh no.

Why did he have to bring that up and remind you of your humiliating blunder? You knew what would be taking up all of your time for the few days – you needed to perfect this goddamn dish.

Soojung on the other hand was unbothered by your predicament. Mind in the gutter as always. “Do you think that’s a euphemism for something else?” She asked straight away once you’d shown her your messages a few hours later.

“Soojung!” You exclaimed, feeling yourself get a little hot in the face. You wish she’d stop bringing up sex, it was stressing you out. You told her as much.

“You’re the one who’s invited him to your house for a second date.”

You stared at her, greatly unimpressed. “You know why I invited him here.”

You’d told her last night. You’d been hit with a surge of confidence when you’d suggested it was your turn to decide on something. In truth though, you didn’t know the first thing about restaurants, you hardly ever ate out, and when you did it was either fast food or at the food court in the department store Soojung worked at. You knew he wouldn’t have minded any choice you’d made, but that didn’t stop the slight apprehension you felt.

It was normal, given your difference in lifestyles, and whilst that seemed to be no issue thankfully, that difference was still there. However really, that’s why you’d chosen to cook for him. Seokjin had shown you something close to him last night – the restaurant he owned with his brother, and now you were to show him something close to your heart. Something that was you. You loved cooking and baking in your spare time and you wanted to share that with him however small. Granted it was things you were confident with, but lasagne couldn’t be that hard, right? A true perfectionist, you’d master it quickly enough…

Soojung rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you could suggest McDonald’s and Dilf would be insanely happy.” She nudged you, squealing like a kid. “He’s just so into you!”

You wouldn’t bite. She was making you nervous again. “Stop calling him Dilf, he has a name.”

“Geez, sorry.” She held up her hands in apology. “Didn’t mean to offend your man.”

You pushed her shoulder, silently telling her to quit it.

For the next few days it became your life’s goal to master the art of lasagne. Sunday night was spent googling recipes, trying to find the most authentic one. There seemed to be a lot of fuss on the right type of pasta. Flat edged would be fine, but the wavy edge was best. You made note of that. Next was the sauce. Two types. The tomato based one and then the white one – which you learned was called Bechamel. That seemed pretty easy to cook up, but the former seemed a little daunting. Every time you’d had pasta sauce in the past it had been premade, starting from scratch was giving you anxiety. Seokjin thought this was your expertise so you had to make it believable. What if you made it too salty? Too bland?

…Possibly you were thinking way too hard about this. Soojung thought the same.

“Just buy it in a jar, Y/N, for Christ’s sake. You’re taking this way too seriously. You don’t need to learn fluent Italian to make your little white lie believable. It’s a goddamn lasagne.”

She had a point.

“He’d be happy with a sandwich. He’s coming over for you, not the shitty lasagne.”

“Don’t call my non-existent lasagne shitty, you’re setting me up for failure.” You grumbled, looking at the ten tabs you had up on your laptop screen, all claiming to be the best most authentic recipe around.

On Monday you went shopping for ingredients. You knew a small world foods store that was just outside of town, you’d been there a couple of times when you’d been baking with the children for class. With help from signposted aisles, you found what you were looking for in no time at all, so that night, you and Soojung both tucked into your first (sort of) homemade lasagne. Only the Bechamel sauces was harder to master than you’d first thought.

“I think you added too much flour.” Soojung’s nose wrinkled as she spoke. “It’s nice, don’t get me wrong, but the white stuff… I don’t know, maybe it’s supposed to taste like that?”

Nope, she was definitely correct, too much flour, which was odd because you were pretty positive you’d followed the right measurements…

Tuesday you had a day off from the sight, and even the word lasagne. You met for coffee with your mom but kept the date with Seokjin a secret. Not that she pressed about your love life anymore, she’d long given up on that topic. It was nice to catch up and you made plans for a trip soon. It was hard to find time to visit her when you were in work so you were always thankful for the summer and Christmas breaks. You were her only child, so it made your time together even more precious. She’d only remarried ten years ago, and while Jonathon had kids from his first marriage, they lived abroad. They were older than you and had families of their own. You weren’t particularly close for no other reason than the distance. You’d only met them a few times but they were lovely people. Your father had remarried while you were still in high school, having two more children (a son and daughter) with his wife. You were very close to them despite the age gap and saw them as regularly as you could. Your extended family had long been the norm and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Wednesday you were back on the lasagne. You purchased more pasta sauce and decided on the pre-made Bechamel sauce too, just to be safe. This time around everything went smoothly, Soojung had no complaints and neither did you, but you still invited Taehyung around on Thursday for a third go. He was way more enthusiastic than your best friend, singing your praises all night.

“Y/N, that was amazing!” He exclaimed, leaning back in his chair to pat his belly. “Dilf dick – Uh, I mean, Seokjin, is going to love it.”

“Guys, is that what you really call him when you’re alone together?” You whined.

“Blame Soo,” Taehyung shrugged. “She’s rubbed off on me. But, I’m right,” he smirked. “He’s going to want to give you his DD once he tastes this, if you know what I mean.”

Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, you looked on unimpressed. Maybe if you gave them no reaction they’d stop?

“Oooo. I wonder what his dick even looks like. I bet it’s as handsome as his face.” Soojung squealed, sat beside her boyfriend.

“SOOJUNG!” He cried, mouth open in disbelief.

“Can we just stop talking about his… y’know…” You sighed, unable to say the word aloud. “Imagine if it was the other way around and he was wondering about what I looked like naked.” Soojung wouldn’t be impressed, that was for sure.

“Fine, you’re right,” your best friend sighed. “I’m just way too excited because you finally like someone!!” She was getting loud now, she always did when she was excited. “And I want it to work out because you deserve it!”

You chuckled. “Soo, calm down.” But you had to admit her words were sweet. You reached for her hand across the tiny table, giving it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

“What about Barman dick?” Taehyung asked randomly, totally oblivious that you and she were having a moment. “Huh? Soo? You want my Barman dick tonight?” He wiggled his eyebrows again, a playfulness to his voice as he nudged her.

She giggled but wasn’t having any of it. “It doesn’t really have the same ring to it, babe.”

Highly offended he pulled away, pursing his lips. “Whatever.”

“Okay guys, let’s not have a domestic at the dining table.” You laughed. Which was a mistake because now Taehyung’s attention was back on you.

“So, Y/N, when are you going to invite Mr. Dilf to my bar?”

You sniggered. “How about never?”

“Hey, you ladies are being very mean tonight. I complimented your lasagne.” Hm. That was true, you guessed. “What’s wrong with my bar? I think he’d love it. What does he drink? I see him as a dark rum type of guy.”

You shrugged. “He was drinking red wine on our date last week.” It still made you feel funny to say the word date. You’d gone on a date. You were dating. A flurry of excitement found its way to your stomach, your excitement for Saturday growing.

“Interesting,” Taehyung mused.

Soojung stood up, starting to collect your plates. “Okay, I’m washing, who’s drying?”

“Not me,” you sang. “I’ve cooked nearly every night this week.”

Soojung eyes were wide when you met them, as if she was silently begging you. For what? “Just please promise me there won’t be any lasagne waiting for me after work tomorrow night? I’m going to turn into one at this rate.”

Saturday arrived soon enough. You woke up the same time your phone went Bing and you knew exactly who it was. Seokjin had been texting you Good morning every day since Monday. He was no longer signing them off with his name, which was progress, and he was even adding more emojis, so you guessed you had rubbed off on him.

Sometimes he’d drop a meme with the greeting. They were mostly to do with early mornings and workloads to which you’d tease him about because it was your summer vacation after all, you didn’t need to worry about work. But you always sent a Hope today runs smoothly his way too. You didn’t want to rub it in too much.

Yesterday’s meme had been about dating, something about the guy trying to flirt but being garbage at it and asking if she liked cheese. You didn’t agree that was like Seokjin though – you were gradually learning that he was incredibly modest – but it had made you laugh. Only Seokjin could send you lame memes and you’d find it adorable… You were possibly whipped.

Seokjin (8:01am) Good morning. [Image sent]

Today the meme was about lasagne, which made you question whether he was googling these every morning because no way had a lasagne meme popped up on his social media – if he used any at all. The realisation that he was searching for memes every day was even more endearing and your heart got a little gooey. You read the text on top of the image of lasagne. Dude, is that your new white shirt? Lemme just hop off this fork for a closer look. You genuinely laughed at that one, still wrapped up in your bed sheets. So incredibly lame, but equal levels funny.

Seokjin (8:01am) I will not be wearing white… I can’t wait to see you later. Just a reminder that I hope you omitted the garlic for tonight’s meal. I don’t want to embarrass myself by itching all night 😅😂

Immediately the smile dropped from your face and you shot forward, horror washing over you. Oh no. He was allergic to garlic. With the stress of perfecting the world’s best lasagne you’d totally forgotten. What were you going to do? Find a plain tomato sauce? Where the hell were you going to find one? Was that even a thing? You needed to leave now. Jumping out of bed you almost forgot to message Seokjin back. Looking at your phone again the image of the lasagne mocked you…

Two hours later you were back at home, in need of a sit down after you’d rushed around town looking for a pasta sauce that didn’t contain garlic (very hard, by the way.) The stress had aged you about ten years. Soojung of course found it highly hilarious.

“You’d have been in ER before 9pm,” she chortled, still in her pyjamas on the couch. She’d been still asleep when you’d dashed off, a woman on a lasagne mission.

You ignored her. It wouldn’t have been that bad, right? He said himself he’d only be itching… Clawing off his own skin was probably better than his throat closing up… maybe…

“How did you manage to forget?” She was still laughing. “AND you said you’d make a lasagne. Italian food always uses garlic. He must think you’re trying to kill him.” At this point you could hardly understand her, words blurring into one as she lost her shit.

“We went over this. I wasn’t in my right mind when I said I’d cook lasagne.”

She stopped her laugher immediately. “No way, you’re not blaming me again.”

“Ugh.” You sighed, suddenly remembering something. “I was going to make my homemade garlic bread.” Now that was a speciality of yours. This night was going to be a disaster.

“Skip the garlic,” Soojung suggested.

“So, just bread then.”

She tried her best not to laugh again, not wanting to make it worse. “Yum.”

It didn’t help.

What did help though, was making her clean the entirety of the downstairs of the house. As the day went on you started to get more and more nervous, which was silly, but you couldn’t help it. You realised that your place was a shoe box in comparison to his, what the hell were you thinking when you’d invited him here?! It needed to be spotless, to distract him from the fact you would be eating dinner in the same place you would be cooking it…

You knew there was no need to worry, it was just like last week when you’d grown self-conscious only to be fine once you’d set eyes on Seokjin. No doubt tonight would be just the same, he didn’t give a crap about stuff like that, so why would you even think he would? He’d probably be hurt if he knew… You just couldn’t help those little bubbles of insecurities from floating around inside your brain. You were a law unto yourself, and the garlic-less lasagne wasn’t helping. You’d had no time to prep for it. What if it tasted like cardboard?

“Lasagne is lasagne,” Soojung reassured you, in the kitchen as you got all the ingredients together. “It’s not going to taste gross just because there’s no garlic in it. Put it this way, at least you can kiss without needing to pop a mint.”

You whined, shaking your head, you couldn’t even dare thinking about kissing him right now. You’d spontaneously combust from anxiety.

“Should we clean your room too?” She asked, picking up the jar of pasta sauce absentmindedly. You’d already read the label approximately fifteen times, double checking it was indeed garlic-less.

“What? No,” you told her, voice all high-pitched. There would be no going upstairs besides from bathroom usage. “But hey,” you exclaimed, rounding on her with the spoon you were holding in your hand. “My room is always clean, bitch.”

She was the messy one.

Soojung left for Taehyung’s place at half 6, ready for Seokjin’s arrival at 7pm, a hug for good luck before you waved her off. You’d calmed greatly now, nothing like some table laying to ease some nerves. The lasagne was prepped and ready to oven cook, you had a fresh key lime pie in the fridge and you were dressed and presentable with ten minutes to spare. Wonderful.

The doorbell rung not long after you’d made your way downstairs and you were quickly finding out that Seokjin was a very punctual man. Opening the door to reveal him stood at the porch your heart instantly warmed, skipping a beat when he gave you a dazzling smile and a soft Hey. You felt a little weak at the knees. Nope, you were not ready for tonight.

In your tiny entryway he offered you a silver gift bag. “I didn’t know what to bring, so.” He said with a shrug as you pulled out a bottle of red wine.

“Oh, thank you, Seokjin.” You hadn’t been expecting him to bring anything at all. It was a lovely surprise.

“You probably have some waiting already. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you reassured him. “We’ll use this one.” You were going to use a bottle of white wine you had laying around, nothing special at all. Red wine seemed better, fancier, maybe it would go better with the lasagne?

“Are you sure?” He asked. “I was gonna get you flowers but I didn’t want to freak you out or anything.”

You laughed. What was he going on about? “Why would that freak me out?”

His smile was crooked as he chuckled quietly. “I don’t know. I’m new to this, I thought they would’ve been too forward.”

You gave a small shrug, voice barely there when you replied. “I like flowers.”

He gazed at you, warm eyes softening as he stepped forward. “Next time.” He smiled. “Next time I’ll get you flowers.”

You swallowed fairly loudly, averting your gaze as you outstretched your arms. “Let me take you coat.” Was it hot in here? You felt a little stuffy.

He shrugged off the beige wool blend, revealing the tight fitting black shirt he had on underneath. It stretched over his shoulders, accentuating how broad they were, how hard his chest was and how much his waist curved inwards. The pants he was wearing didn’t help matters too. He looked effortlessly gorgeous, hair parted to the side, a piece curled above his left eye, softening the blow of his exposed forehead. You moved to hook his coat on the rack, realising you could’ve been gawping. Not that you could help it, the man was trying to kill you.

As you turned to face him again, he smiled. “You look really nice.” His voice was soft which just made it even more dangerous. “I think this may be the first time I’ve seen you in pants.”

“Really?” You wondered. You were partial to a dress in the summer, so he was probably right. You’d chosen a pair of black skinny jeans and a patterned chiffon blouse. Nothing too fancy, but he looked at you with awe-filled eyes. Unless you were imagining it. You cleared your throat. “You look good too.”

He stepped back, arms outstretched as he looked down at himself. “Thanks. No white.” He chuckled.

You forced yourself to laugh too, nerves creeping back just because of your stupid damn lasagne. “No white.”

Moving forward again he took your hand. It was warm and soft, just as you remembered from last week. Who cared about the lasagne when you were this close to him? When he was looking down at you with those brown, twinkly eyes? Not you anymore.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, Y/N.”

Oh.

You invited him inside the living room first, pouring him a small (and his only because he the car) glass of wine as you chit chatted for a few minutes. Sat next to him was RJ, who you’d taken from your bedroom to join you both for the night. He wanted to say Hi, had been your opening line and Seokjin had found it hilarious, cracking up instantly. Although his “I missed you buddy, how have you been?” went rudely ignored. Maybe the alpaca was nervous…

Ever the gentleman, he complimented you on the house, noting the décor with a fond eye. That surprised you, maybe he had played a part with the interior of his home. Well, you’d only seen the cosy family room – but it suited him very well. You knew there had been no need to be nervous when it came to inviting him into your home. There wasn’t a judging bone in Seokjin’s body.

You talked about your weeks, yours had been fine, but of course you left out all the stress over the lasagne. Seokjin’s week on the other hand had been quite demanding, but that was nothing new he told you with an accepting shake of his hand. He was used to it by now, but he had to admit tonight’s date had made it easier this time around. He was full of the charm, not that you were complaining…

Misook was babysitting Arin tonight, he told you when you asked how she was. It was his weekend this week, he and Nana took it in turns – when she didn’t cancel, he added as an afterthought – but he seemed a lot more relaxed talking about his ex-wife this time around seeing as last weekend she hadn’t broken any promises. He was happy if his daughter was happy, and that made you smile. You remembered Arin’s sorrowful face that day her mom had cancelled on her, so you were glad they’d found time to spend time together. You also remembered how irritated Seokjin had sounded when he was opening up to you on the bench at the school fate… You wondered just how often Nana cancelled plans, and couldn’t imagine how frustrating that was for both Arin and Seokjin… You hoped this marked the start of things being easier for them now.

Soon after that, you served him your starter (“garlic – wait, no I mean, no-garlic bread.”), and you chatted some more over that and while the lasagne baked. It was surprising how little you’d touched the sides on your first date, so tonight you covered even more bases. Family mainly. You told him about your half and step siblings, your parents’ remarriages of course coming up too. He seemed interested in that, wondering about your views on it and if it had affected you as you grew up. As a divorcee you understood the relevance to him and because he was so easy to talk to you found yourself opening up freely.

His parents were still married and Seokjin was the youngest out of their two sons, so it was quite unheard of for the second born to take over a family company. In fact, it was the first of its kind for his, which made it even harder for him. His older brother had been the rightful heir to LG Electronics but his passion had always been in culinary arts. His parents had been kind enough to let him follow his dreams, and thankfully, for Seokjin, that meant he could follow in his father’s footsteps. He’d been eager to prove himself but it had been hard in the beginning. His status as the youngest son meant that a lot of people set him up for failure, but with his family’s love and belief he’d managed to succeed and confirm himself as the rightful CEO. You didn’t doubt it. It seemed he’d worked hard to get where he was now. That was admirable.

The influx of information was so interesting to you and it didn’t feel real. While you could imagine Seokjin taking charge, visualising him in that tailored houndstooth suit he’d worn when you’d first met him, it was strange to think the smiley and soft-spoken man sat in front of you was from a long line of power and wealth. He should be untouchable, yet here you were able to reach for his hand across the table. Able to feel his forefinger stroking delicate patterns into your palm as you opened up and got to know one another more and more…

“So, if your family’s a big deal, what about things like arranged marriages? Are they still a thing?” You asked, maybe confusing fiction for fact.

Seokjin laughed at your wording. “They used to be, not so much anymore. I met my ex-wife through a friend. They concentrate less on things like that these days.” He shrugged, adding as an afterthought, “As a divorced CEO I think I’m a great example of that.”

That was true, you thought to yourself, wondering how the breakdown of his marriage had also played a part in the stress of his early years as CEO.

“I know it all sounds pretty crazy, but I like to think my family is just like anyone else’s.” He continued, smiling bashfully when you met his gaze. “That I’m just like anyone else.”

You wondered how many people had immediately judged him because of his status… You’d been one of them, right? Even if you hadn’t known any of the details, you’d written him off as some obnoxious, rich guy who flaunted his wealth… You felt guilty thinking back. He was the complete opposite.

You nodded in agreement before grinning. “I’d have liked to see what college Seokjin was like.”

“A complete nerd, to tell you the truth.”

He answered so seriously, you didn’t know how to react, and then he was laughing loudly, cracking up at himself. You couldn’t help but join in. That’s when your stove alarm went off, shrill and incessant, signalling the arrival of the dreaded lasagne…

It turned out he loved it though.

“This is amazing,” Seokjin praised, mouth still half full as he chewed. You did have to admit it was good. It tasted just like the original, despite the lack of garlic. Seokjin quirked an eyebrow, smirking your way. “So, how lucky am I to be able to try this World famous Italian lasagne?”

“Very lucky.” You kept your answer short. Hoping he’d just drop it.

He didn’t.

“How lucky?” He tried to pry from you. “How many people have tried it?”

You gave him a small smile, hovering your fork over the plate. Technically he was the third, but you couldn’t tell him that, could you? “I can’t disclose that.”

He emitted a short laugh. “What about the recipe? Care to share?”

You brushed him off with a soft chuckle. “A chef never tells her secrets.”

“Not even me?” His bottom lip jutted out as he looked across at you.

Your heart did a little dance. He was being unfair. “Don’t pout like that, it’s making me feel guilty.”

Thankfully the lasagne topic fizzled out after a couple more minutes, your cold sweat having time to dissipate while you chatted and ate together comfortably. However a few minutes later you noticed Seokjin fidgeting slightly in his seat. You politely ignored it to begin with, unsure if you were just imagining it, but then he started itching the back of his neck. You put your fork down, a sick feeling washing over you. “Is anything wrong?” You asked, now watching him itch up his forearm. “Seokjin?”

He looked at you in mild confusion, eyebrows creasing together as he opened his mouth. “Are you sure there wasn’t any garlic in this?”

You swallowed away the panic racing up your throat. “I’m sure.” You’d read the back of that jar and then read it some more. “I’m positive.”

… Weren’t you? You watched him scoot his chair back, leaning down to start scratching the back of his calves. He made noises of discomfort as he did so.

“Oh, no…” You were up before you could stop yourself, racing around him to start hunting in the recycling for the glass jar.

“Wait, where are you going?”

You could hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, sounding alarmed, but you were too panicked to really take it in. You needed to be sure. This was just your second date, you couldn’t ruin things already. Turning him into one giant itchy red blob had not been your intention.

“I was only teasing you.” Still, his words didn’t sink in. That was until you felt a hand on your elbow, tugging gently for your attention.

You spun around, worried eyes wide – even wider when you found him so close. He was on his feet too, bent a little to level with you, pretty much within kissing distance. His voice was soft when he spoke, you found yourself distracted by his mouth. “Y/N, I was just messing around.”

You blinked, not truly understanding with all those annoying distractions zooming around your mind, but slowly you pieced his words together. Oh. Despite the relief you felt, now you just felt silly. Plus, he was still so close to you…

You took a step back, the small of your back pressing up against the counter. You needed a clear head. “Don’t freak me out like that.” You told him, but you still sighed in relief, hand against your chest. “I thought I’d poisoned you.”

He looked a little concerned, but you could tell by his eyes he found your reaction amusing. “I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”

“Make me laugh? You nearly gave me heart failure.” However, you gave him what he wanted, a laugh that sounded weak and shaky, but it was something – you did see the funny side.

He joined you, shoulders relaxing now that he knew you were okay. He looked behind you, eyes on the trashcan, a bemused smile on his face. “What were you looking for anyway?”

“The jar.” You answered, as if it wasn’t obvious. You turned, deciding to fish it out anyway. Holding it up to him, you were adamant. “See, no garlic. Check.”

He chuckled. “I already said I was joking.” He took one look at your desperate expression and gave in, taking the jar from your hand. “But if it makes you feel better…” You watched him as he read the label, silently soaking in his handsome features. He looked softer tonight, the curve of his jaw rounding as he smiled. It took you a moment to realise he was done. He handed the jar back to you, and you prayed to God he hadn’t caught you staring at him all gooey-eyed. “It’s fine.” He confirmed. “I’ll be itch free tonight.”

You smiled and plopped the glass back inside the can. “I looked around town for hour trying to find lasagne sauce sans garlic.”

He looked guilty. “I’m sorry for being awkward.” Then he paused, eyes narrowing, the hint of a smirk itching at the corners of his mouth. “But… Y/N, are you a fraud?” Huh? What did he mean? You didn’t need to wait long for an explanation. “I thought a certified chef would cook up a batch of her own tomato sauce.”

Oh. You’d gone and put your foot in it, hadn’t you? It was probably time to explain yourself… “I have a confession,” you began, sounding wary. Seokjin looked interested albeit it mildly confused. “I… may have told a little white lie.”

He shook his head, a puff of laughter leaving him. “You’ve lost me.”

You took a deep breath, knowing you were going to have to spell it out for him. “I’ve never made lasagne before. Ever. In my entire life.”

He looked confused as silence spread out between you. He sounded it too when he spoke again. “Then why did you say it was your speciality?”

You groaned, dropping your face into your hands for one dramatic moment. “I panicked.” Peeking at him, you babbled on. “I know it sounds stupid but Soojung was curtain twitching and it was stressing me out and then you were asking me what I cooked and lasagne just popped into my head!”

Seokjin blinked, his mouth twitched and then he was laughing – loudly.

“You find it funny?” You asked, relaxing a tad.

“Very.” He laughed harder but seeing the look of bafflement on your face he tried is best to still it.

“I’ve been practicing it like crazy,” you whined, happy you could finally tell him all about your lasagne struggles. “This is my fourth time eating it this week. Soojung nearly killed me.” You snorted at the memory. This started up Seokjin again. “And then I forgot you were allergic to garlic. Your text reminded me this morning and I had to rush out to the grocery store.”

He was weak at the knees at that, and you were laughing just because he was. It was contagious. “Stop,” you wailed, attempting to get a hold of yourself. This week had actually been quite traumatic. “I’m glad you find it funny, I’ve been in constant stress ever since you drove off last week.”

“I can’t help it.” He chuckled, although he did sound apologetic. “You’re just so adorable.” The air that settled around his effortless admission made your skin prickle. When he carried on, his tone was gentle. “You know I wouldn’t have minded if you changed the menu to something else, right?”

You pouted ever so slightly. “But you were looking forward to it.”

He gave a small shrug. “True, but… that was more so code for ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you again.’ The food was just a bonus. I’d be happy with a Big Mac.”

You felt your cheeks burn and you tried to shake yourself out of it. “So embarrassing,” you murmured. You didn’t know what for… The lasagne mess or the fact he could have this much of an effect of you? You were inclined to go with the latter.

“What about the no-garlic bread?” Seokjin asked, changing the subject a little. Maybe he’d sensed your embarrassment and didn’t want to make it worse. He was sweet. “Did you make that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Well, I didn’t bake the bread. I just toasted it.” It was still a speciality of yours though. “It would’ve been much tastier with the garlic.”

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. This body wants to turn me into a miserable old man.”

Pfft. Old? Miserable? He was anything but.

“Sit,” he prompted you, smiling as he motioned with his head to the table. “Finish your World famous Italian lasagne before it grows cold.”

As you moved he delicately cupped his hand around the curve your waist, giving it a soft squeeze before he got to his chair first. Your stomach flipped, head dizzy as you sat and tucked your chair in. Last Saturday popped into your head, the way you’d loosely held hands outside and how you were sure he’d been leaning in to kiss you – properly.

You knew one thing. You really wanted to kiss him tonight.

Trying to get a hold of yourself, you glanced at him, catching his eyes. He was already tucking in again, and he grinned bashfully, as if embarrassed. “This really is great. All that practice paid off.” A pause. “You should show me how you cooked it sometime.”

Your face lit up in surprise. “You cook?” In the back of your mind you were aware that he’d probably been hinting for a third date, but you were so shocked by the possibly of Seokjin cooking you couldn’t stop yourself from asking.

He chuckled quietly. “I mean, when I have time and can be bothered. I like cooking but it’s just easier to go to a restaurant or get it delivered.” He looked sheepish before adding, “Or Misook does it for me.”

There was no shame when it came to that. Seokjin probably worked all hours of the day, no one could expect him to tie on an apron when he got home and start pulling out pots and pans.

“Do you cook a lot?” He asked.

You nodded. “Soojung and I take it in turns.”

“So what is your speciality?” He smiled.

This time around you were in your right mind and able to answer properly. “Veggie tacos.”

He raised his eyebrows, impressed. Then he tried again. “Can you make them for me sometime?”

He was persistent, you’d give him that. You shrugged, trying your best to sound impassive but the little smirk gave it away. “Maybe if you say please…”

He laughed, leaning forward, a hand clasping yours as he tilted his head. The piece of curled hair falling into his left eye. “Please?”

Your heart did another little dance inside your chest.

After dessert you both made your way back to the living room, settling on your couch with two pomegranate mocktails Taehyung had prepared for you yesterday. All you had to do was add the pomegranate juice and lemonade to the ice cubes and crushed lime segments and mint before serving, easy-peasy. Seokjin was highly impressed, but of course you couldn’t take the credit. It was all down to your best friend’s very helpful barman boyfriend.

You were glad Seokjin wanted to stay as you didn’t want the night to be over yet. It had flown by so fast and you’d had so much fun. You already felt like you knew him better, even after only two dates. It was strange to you, how you could feel so relaxed in a stranger’s company, but then again, you guessed he wasn’t a stranger anymore… Plus, he was so easy to talk to, so interesting to get to know…. Everything between you two came easy.

Like opening up to him, being a bit more vulnerable…

“I’ve been slightly nervous all week,” you admitted, clutching your drink to you before chuckling softly. “– and not just about the lasagne faux pas…”

“There was no need to be nervous. I thought we left all that behind on the first date,” Seokjin reassured, smiling warmly your way.

You were sat together, turned to face one another. It was intimate and cosy. He had one leg lifted, the ankle resting on the knee of the other leg, and where his pants had ridden up, you could see an inch or so of his calf before it met the black cotton of his sock. For some reason, you found that very, very sexy. Maybe you had been single for far too long.

“We did,” you agreed, hesitating slightly. “It’s just… I haven’t done anything like this in so long.”

You didn’t even think you’d ever invited someone around for dinner before. You were still quite young when you found yourself in a relationship with Donghae so your dates before him had been very basic. Your dates with him hadn’t really classed as such just because you became official fairly quickly, and your dates after him, well, it was already known that they had been few and far between.

“You already know we’re in the same boat,” he smiled before chuckling bashfully. “No, but really, when I asked you for dinner that day at the fate I was expecting you to turn me down.”

“How come?”

He looked down at his drink, lifting a shoulder. “I thought you’d think that I was crossing a line… or maybe the spark I was feeling was all in my head and in reality you just found me really annoying.”

That was cute. He’d been doubting himself. Human after all. Not that you’d ever thought he wasn’t. You still didn’t miss the opportunity to joke around though. “I mean, both can exist simultaneously.” He taking a sip of his mocktail when you replied so he ended up snorting into his glass, amused by your wit.

A moment or so passed and Seokjin gazed at you, smiling softly. If he kept this up, you’d be a puddle on your parquet flooring. “So, tell me,” he hummed. “How did I luck out so good?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering what he meant. “How come an amazing person like you isn’t married or in a relationship?”

He must’ve seen the slight shock on your face and panicked instantly. “Is that a weird thing to ask? I feel like it is. I apologise.”

“No,” you insisted, sitting up a little straighter. He followed. “No, it’s not.” You wanted to open up to him. You really did. You just didn’t know where to start. Although, it was pretty simple. “I’ve been single for a while.”

“How long?” Seokjin was instantly focused, attentive, noticing the change in your body language.

“Three years. My last relationship didn’t end very well.” You paused, wondering if you should continue. But then… It had been a massive part of your life. No matter how much time had passed and no matter how okay you were now, it had still happened. And Seokjin, he had trusted you enough to open up about his divorce – even before you’d gone on your first date. You wanted to talk about it. You really did.

“I found out my fiancé was cheating on me.”

Seokjin’s eyes widened, unable to cloak his surprise. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said sincerely.

“It’s fine,” you smiled. “It was rough getting over it. Took me a while, but it is what it is. It’s in the past now.”

“Did it put you off dating?”

You were pleasantly surprised to find it was actually easy to talk to Seokjin about this. Your mouth was opening before you had to think about it. “I mean, at first. I was still very much in love with him, even after he broke my heart. But I got over him and I started dating again – briefly – It just didn’t feel right.” You stopped to smile. “It’s been over a year and I can’t say I missed it… but you…” Nerves growing, you pushed them away. “You’ve changed that. I’m having fun.”

Seokjin’s face lit up and he chuckled. “I did hit second date status after all.”

“You did…”

“So,” he leaned closer, a small smirk on his face. “You could say, hitting your car that day wasn’t actually my fault because it was supposed to happen.”

You snorted as you laughed, head falling against the back of the couch. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

He made a sound. “But we wouldn’t have met otherwise.”

“We would!” You exclaimed. “The parent-teacher meeting.”

He blinked, feeling dumb. “Oh, yeah.”

It wouldn’t have had the same effect, granted, but you would have become acquainted with one another regardless. “Would you have still liked me?” You asked without thinking, surprising yourself.

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “I was instantly attracted to you after all, it’s just…” Instantly attracted? Definitely a charmer... “There would’ve been no way for me to get to know you like I did.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re really adamant that you had to reverse into my car to make this work, huh.”

He shrugged casually. “It was the only way.”

You laughed quietly, finishing the last of your drink. Time was getting on, it was pretty late, Seokjin had already finished his, you watched him sit up to lean forward and place the glass on your coffee table. His shirt tightened across his shoulder blades and you could see his back muscles as he stretched. Oh.

Settling back into the same position, he looked over at you and grinned. His teeth were perfect. Did this man have zero flaws? Why were you so whipped? It was embarrassing.

“I had fun tonight,” you told him, trying to keep a lid on whatever was going on with you right now.

He seemed pleased with that, nodding his head. “I’m happy to hear that you think I’m a fun person.”

You scoffed, body falling closer to his. Your shoulders brushed together. Seokjin didn’t take his eyes off you. “Hm. I don’t think I said that.”

“Hey, don’t be so mean.” He murmured, one side of his mouth quirking up.

Like you couldn’t stop yourself, your hand reached for the collar of shirt. He had the top two buttons loose and your pinkie finger brushed against his collarbone. Sparks flew, but you tried to ignore them. “I thought you liked it when I was mean.” You teased, voice low.

Seokjin hummed, his eyes still twinkled like they always did but there was something else to them, a depth that made you feel funny. He sunk closer to you. So close you could study the thick curve of his eyelashes, notice that both his eyelids were different. He really did have beautiful eyes. You could stare at them forever.

Preoccupied, you slowly realised that he was watching you too, studying your features in the golden glow of the floor lamp that hovered over the couch. His lips parted, you heard them rather than saw it, but then your attention was on them again. Just like it had been earlier on in the night. He was staring at yours too as he spoke. “I wanted to kiss you last week.”

You heartbeat quickened but you tried to keep cool. “You did kiss me.” You laughed.

He sighed. “On the cheek.”

You lightly tugged his collar, fingertips now brushing the skin of his chest. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted to do?”

You could feel his own heartbeat against your forearm that was pressed into him. It was definitely running a little faster than it was supposed to – stronger. “Yes, but…” He glanced up to your eyes. “I was just being polite. I wanted to kiss your lips.”

It felt like you were holding your breath. Maybe you were, you just couldn’t think straight. Time seemed to stretch out, but you knew what you wanted. So you went after it. Giving him a small smile, you replied. “Maybe I wanted that too.”

He swallowed, voice so low now it was barely a murmur. “Is that an invitation?” His eyes bounced to your lips again, then back to your eyes as he asked permission. “Can I kiss you?”

You ever so slightly dragged your bottom lip beneath your teeth as you nodded, breath catching in your throat as Seokjin leaned forward and closed the distance between you. The hand in between your bodies moved to delicately hold the wrist of your arm against his chest, holding you there as his other hand reached for your jaw, angling your face to press a kiss to your mouth. His eyes were already closed so you followed.

He hummed at the contact, his lips soft and warm and you let yourself sink. His actions were light at first, faint as he kept constant pressure, as if he was familiarising himself with the sensation. You couldn’t even let yourself think about how this was the first kiss you’d shared with someone for a very long time. All that was going through your mind was how good it felt to be touched like this by him.

He readjusted the hand on your face, tucking some hair behind your ear to cup your cheek. You liked that. You liked it when he touched you, and he eased from your mouth completely before coming back with a firmer pressure. It was your turn to make a sound; a tiny gasp as your lips began to move together ever so slowly. He liked that, a hum of satisfaction vibrating against the soft skin of your lips. You clutched at his shirt, gathering the crisp cotton in your fist, that would surely turn it creased, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was too preoccupied with reaching for the glass you’d forgotten was hugged to your body by your free hand.

He unclasped it from your fingers and had no choice but to break away from your mouth to put it next to his on the coffee table. You whined, attempting to tug him back to you, and he chuckled, taking a hold of one of your hands. “I’ll be back,” he whispered, leaning forward to place the cocktail glass down.

And he was.

This time he used both of his hands to grasp your face and dive back in. He was more confident this time, moving in such a way his lips pried yours open. You reached for his shoulders, grasping them to hold him closer and this time you both made noises – sweet, quiet ones that worked beautiful together as your lips moulded with gradual urgency.

When your hands found the nape of his neck, fingers through his hair, he had to drag the tip of his tongue across your bottom lip, seeking entry. You met it with yours, tasting hints of pomegranate and lime with each wash of tongue. A hand of his slipped down to your side, stroking up and down the curve as if he couldn’t help but to touch you. He settled at your hip after a moment, the other splayed against the side of your neck, his thumb rolling small circles under your cheekbone.

This was getting addictive. You could tell by the way you moaned softly against each warm, wet curl of his tongue. This was everything you’d imagined and more – because you had imagined it. Late and secretly at night when you were trying to drift off to sleep and thoughts of lasagne were banished… You were glad your first kiss was here, inside, on your couch, because this wasn’t something for the open, your knees wouldn’t have been able to hold you up.

You could have kissed him forever, you mean, you definitely didn’t want it to stop but you pretty much had to. Breathing was a necessity, right? If you couldn’t breathe you wouldn’t be able to ever kiss Seokjin again and that would be absolutely awful…

You did it the right way though – gradually. Seokjin slowed it right down, only hints of his tongue left as he hummed indulgently, like he was savouring your taste before he had to inevitably pull away. It made your insides jump around like crazy, hearing him enjoying himself, and you tried your best to come to when he started easing the pressure of his lips, pressing small, chaste kisses to them instead as you ultimately (but slowly) broke apart.

You opened your eyes, blinking up at him, hands falling from his hair, aware you had become one with your cushions. You struggled to free yourself as he sat back and you watched him smile fondly at you. His breath was shaky – so was yours, and you were sure his hands trembled slightly as one reached up to scratch the back of his neck. His neck that was blotched with red, flushed, travelling to his cheeks. They were rosier than you’d ever seen them before. Your gut stirred.

“I’ve been dreaming of that,” he told you, before making a face at himself. “Too cringey?”

You giggled – it sounded foreign. “Just a bit.” But didn’t deter the fact you loved it.

You warmed when you felt him squeeze your hip, realising his hand was still there and you reached for it, tangling your fingers with his. He pulled them to his mouth, kissing your knuckles softly. His expression was thoughtful when he lowered your hands. “In all seriousness, thank you for giving me a chance, after well, you know, everything.”

You smiled, touched by his earnestness, but it was hard to keep a sane mind when his lips were as kiss bitten as they were – deep pink and glistening. You wanted to kiss his face off.

“It’s no problem,” you quipped, as if you were doing him a favour.

He chuckled tenderly, and luckily for you he was unable to stop himself from kissing you again. He reached forward, hooking a finger under your chin to press his mouth to yours softly. “I’d really love if we could keep on doing… this.” He murmured.

“The dating or the kissing,” you grinned, stealing another kiss in the process.

“Hm,” he contemplated. “Both preferably.”

And then you were on one another again, eager once more.

Although, you did manage to pull away briefly to tell him something, his mouth moving to the side of your face to kiss there instead as your hands dragged down his back. You were somehow able to get the words out – ones that made him laugh against your wet jaw.

“I’m so glad you hit my car.”

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjn fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:mls

1K notes · View notes

mcufox123 · 4 years ago

Text

Would you maybe? I don't know

Modern AU WandaxFemReader

Summary: Reader is confused by liking Wanda.

Warnings: PG-13, some cursing

A/N: This is a fun little piece. The group is mentioned but the main focus is the reader. Any suggestions please let me know!

I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACTERS!

*****************************************************************************************************

You are a nurse working in Boston. You had moved here right after graduating college and besides working you spend a lot of time with your very close-knit group of friends. The group started with you and Nat who moved into your apartments. A couple weeks after moving in you were at a bar and Nat tried to hit on Steve. He turned out to already have a boyfriend, however, named Bucky. Soon enough it was the 4 of you. Steve was a veteran and worked with other veterans and soon introduced everyone to Sam who brought along his friend from college Tony. Carol and Wanda were next to join they happened to be your next-door neighbors. Carol came over to complain about the noise you and your friends were making, and Wanda came over with apology cookies, that is how your friendship started. Tony also brought along Bruce who was friends with Thor. Clint, Nat’s childhood friend also moved to Boston for his job who also brought his roommate T’Challa. Your group expanded over the course of a year. And now 3 years in you all spent a majority of your time at your apartment.

Nat and Bruce had just started a new relationship and it was nauseating to you. They were often cuddled on the couch when you came home and were definitely not quiet in the bedroom. Living there started to interfere with your sleep schedule. One day while Nat and Bruce were out Wanda and Carol came over to hangout.

“Maybe you should just tell them to shut up?” Carol told you as Wanda and her listened to you whine about your predicament.

“But Nat is finally happy. It took her so long to be this happy, I'm not going to whine to her about it just yet.” You said trying to compartmentalize your thoughts in your head.

“That’s so kind of you Y/N, but what about you? What makes you happy?” Wanda asked in a sweet tone. You and Wanda had grown closer as Nat was preoccupied. You both spent many nights cooking dinner together and cuddling up on the couch watching tv shows, most the time falling asleep on each other. You had a soft spot for her. You considered it to be more than a friendship, but you had never been with a girl to make it more than a thought.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right I’ll talk to her, thanks guys.” Just then Nat comes through the door with a very drunk Bruce.

“Hey guys! Let me just put him to bed then I’m all in for the girl’s night!” Nat said while escorting Bruce to her bedroom.

You opened up another bottle of wine and as soon as she came out, she pulled up a stool to contribute to the conversation. The 4 of you gossiped about almost everyone in the group, company excluded. You talked about Tony’s new girlfriend Pepper and what she started bringing to the group, which was mostly keeping Tony in check. You talked about T’Challa and his advancements in his job and hoping that he didn’t move because of it. You talked about when you think Clint was going to propose to his long-term girlfriend Laura.

“Alright I'm making a group chat without Clint and Laura to take a pool for when he’ll pop the question. $1 buy in.” You sent the text to all of your friends and soon your phone was blowing up.

“Ya know, I don’t know why but you sending that text reminded me of this one time in college when I was at a party and we were playing truth or dare, and I got dared to send a text to our professor saying that I believed that I was a giraffe. He recommended that I seek help.” Carol said wiping her eyes as she laughed. You all stared at her in confusion. The comment being from out of nowhere.

“That’s really a great story, you should tell everyone at movie night.” Nat said sarcastically.

“Hey now, let’s all just get along. Carol that was a random story, Nat she should tell everyone she is a giraffe when she wants.” Wanda let out in an almost serious tone.

“Yeah,” you said backing up Wanda. The night went on a little longer with now 4 empty bottles of wine and a very tipsy group of friends.

“Hey, I have an idea, let’s play truth or dare.” Nat said with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Now why would we do that?” you ask very annoyed. You guys weren’t in college anymore and you had nightmares about the game. You knew the idea was only in her head because of the giraffe story.

“Because it’s fun,” Carol chimed in.

“Thank you, Carol. Now let’s start I’ll go first. Carol truth or dare?” Nat said.

“Dare!”

“I dare you to go flash our neighbors.” Nat said. Carol was not even hesitant, she got up walked to the window and lifted her shirt to flash the outside world, before walking back like she had just accomplished a huge task. You rolled your eyes as the game continued.

The game continued with a few more rounds all being very stupid tasks. Nat was currently in the room with Bruce giving him a lap dance with the door closed. She walked out with her hair a mess.

“Ok my turn. Y/N truth or dare?” She asked fixing herself back on her seat. You were very tipsy by this point.

“Dare!” you said very enthusiastically. You were not prepared for the task you were asked to do.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.” You froze. The obvious choice was Wanda, but you couldn’t do that. Could you? You for sure weren’t going to kiss Nat because that’s weird, and you always secretly disliked Carol so that was out of the question. The only logical choice was Wanda. You hesitantly leaned over to give Wanda a kiss on the cheek. As you pulled away you saw her cheeks were as red as tomatoes causing you to also start to blush.

“Boo that wasn’t even a kiss.” Nat groaned on.

“Yes, it was. You never specified what kind of kiss it had to be!” you counteracted Nat.

“I thought you would just assume it was a kiss kiss like on the lips like an actual kiss.” She argued back. Carol and Wanda just kept looking at the two of you unsure of what was happening.

“You want a kiss kiss? I will give you a kiss kiss.” You turned to Wanda and put your lips on hers with all of the liquid courage you had built up. You heard her gasp at the action but soon was reciprocating the kiss. Her lips were so soft and perfect, and you felt electrical shocks go throughout your body at the interaction. Your lips moved in perfect sync with each other. You only pulled away when you heard Carol wolf whistle at the two of you.

You felt embarrassed as your cheeks started to turn red. Wanda just looked at you stunned by the action. There was an awkward silence before you spoke up. “Wanda I’m sorry that was, that was,” you couldn’t find the right words. “Ya know what it’s pretty late and I’m getting sleepy I’m going to head to bed.” You said not looking at anyone in particular. You stood up and walked to your room.

“Y/N wait.” You heard Wanda say behind you, you just shut the door behind you and locked the door crawling into bed.

The next morning you woke up and walked to the kitchen to get breakfast. Nat was already out there, and you saw waffles, pancakes, sausage, bacon, toast and eggs all spread out on the table. You ignored all of that and simply walked to the coffee pot.

“I made you breakfast, also there is freshly squeezed orange juice, with no pulp.” She said pouring you a glass. You didn’t even acknowledge her. Instead grabbed the box of cheerios from the cabinet with your coffee and heading back to your room. Before you could close the door Nat put her foot in the door.

“Look, Y/N, I'm sorry about last night I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just I thought you both liked each other, and I figured I’d give you a little nudge ya know? Be a good friend?” She said while you continued to walk to your bed and get your laptop out to watch Netflix.

“Ok well you were wrong. I don’t know what to tell you.” You said trying to convince yourself more. In all honesty you haven’t stopped thinking about the kiss. You had thought about Wanda’s lips from the moment they left yours. And the way that she kissed you back. That had to mean something right? Like maybe she felt the same way for you. But you weren’t sure you liked girls. But maybe you did? Maybe Wanda could be your girlfriend. That was weird for you to even think about having a girlfriend. You were so confused.

Nat saw your internal turmoil by look on your face. “What’s wrong Y/N?” she asked concern clear on her face.

“I never liked a girl before.” You said staring at your hands. You couldn’t even look her in the eye. You were so scared saying it out loud. But it was true and now you felt like you did like a girl. A very specific girl, who had beautiful reddish hair and green eyes that pierced your soul. She had the best laugh where her nose would scrunch up and she always tried to make everyone feel better.

“Y/N, its ok. You are allowed to like girls, especially ones who make you happy. You’re allowed to like Wanda as more than a friend. A friend would not kiss another friend on a dare the way you kissed Wanda last night.” She said rubbing your back.

“I know I just, she’s just, and I'm just.” You tried to explain failing to find the words.

“Talk to her, let her know. She’s a pretty understanding person and I think she could help you.” Nat said before giving your arm one last squeeze. “Also come eat my breakfast, I cooked too much food.” She said while getting up and moving to the door.

“Can you bring it to me please? I'm super comfy right now.” You asked with pleading eyes.

“Yeah sure.” She said while walking out of the door to get you breakfast.

You spent a lot of time that day writing in your journal and watching tv, the perfect lazy day. You didn’t see much of your friends that week. You took on more shifts at the hospital and stayed in on call rooms to avoid thinking about your friend who you couldn’t keep out of your head. You thought if you just stayed away, it would all go away and be ok.

You came home one day exhausted and just went right to bed. When you woke up you opened your door to go to the kitchen, but you stopped as your eyes landed on a specific pair of green eyes staring back at you. You were frozen in your spot. The person you had tried to get out of your head was now sitting on the couch in your house. “Want to watch a movie?” She asked like nothing had happened. Like everything that happened that one night didn’t happen. It frustrated you that she was so calm about all of this while you were losing sleep. You continued to walk to the kitchen to get food before answering.

“Sure, you want any snacks?” you asked her.

“Yes please! Can I have some popcorn?” you started to get the popcorn out and put it in the microwave and then went to get out a bowl to put it in. There was a silence that came again and stayed there. The only sound was the kernels popping in the microwave. You looked at your hands while you could feel Wanda staring at you.

When the popcorn was finished you dumped the bag in the bowl and walked over to give it to Wanda who was sitting on the couch. You would usually sit on the same couch as her but tonight decided to opt for the love seat. You didn’t even look at her, but Wanda had a frown at your choice of seats. You kept your eyes trained on the tv waiting for the movie to start but it never did.

“What is it Y/N? Why are you in such a mood?” she asked.

“I’m not in a mood. Why do you say that?” you asked her, knowing it was stupid because you were in a mood and she could read you better than anyone, even Nat.

“Yes, you are. If you weren’t in a mood, I would’ve seen you this week. If you weren’t in a mood, you would tell me all about work and how crazy it is, and we wouldn’t even get to start the movie. If you weren’t in a mood, you would be sitting on this couch with me probably with your feet draped over my legs. Why aren’t you sitting with me?” She was aggravated you could tell but you didn’t know how to answer that.

“I don’t know.” You said which only made her get up and start pacing in frustration.

“God, Y/N, you’re so frustrating just say it we all know why you’re in a mood.” She said now standing directly in front of you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It seems like you know why I am in a mood more than I do so tell me why.” You said to her not having the courage for the words that needed to be said. You quickly regretted saying that. She climbed onto your lap, so her eyes were directly in front of yours. She put her arms around your shoulders so there was no way to escape. You suddenly couldn’t focus on anything other than how close your faces were.

“You do know Y/N. It’s because there is something here, with you and me. That kiss that we shared was incredible and I couldn’t stop thinking about it, or you. So why are you pushing me away.” You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I never kissed a girl before, and I just didn’t know I could feel this way about someone until we kissed. And I just wasn’t sure if it was ok for you.” You said giving her the basic train of your thoughts.

“You weren’t sure if it was ok for me? Did I not communicate that enough in the kiss or do I have to show you how ok it was for me?” she asked. You sat there frozen as she leaned in and put her lips on yours again not even waiting for permission. You tensed up at first, but after a second you were quick to reciprocate how right this felt for you too. Her hands were playing with your hair and yours on instinct went to her hips trying to pull her closer.

She pulled away when you did that. “I thought you weren’t sure Y/N? Do we have to keep figuring this out?” she asked while pretending to make a confused face.

“Yeah, I think we can keep figuring this out.” You said while leaning up to kiss her again. She pulled back again though.

“Are you sure you’re, ok? We don’t have to do anything. I’m ok with taking this slow.” She said looking at you, reading your face for any signs of being uncomfortable.

“I just really want to kiss you again.” This time you spoke the truth.

“Then kiss me.” You didn’t even hesitate leaning in again, placing your lips on hers. It quickly got heated as she pushed you back further onto the couch. You didn’t try to fight back, you only continued to move your hands all over her body, exploring places you never would dare before.

Her lips left yours and started to leave a trail going lower down your face till she started sucking on your neck. You let out a moan and felt her smile against your skin. All of your earlier thoughts, questioning if this was right were out the window now. With her in your arms everything felt right.

She came back to your lips where your tongues were soon dancing together. You didn’t even hear Nat and Bruce come in the door. You only pulled away when you heard a cabinet close in the kitchen. You looked over your shoulder to see them both staring at you and Wanda.

“Don’t stop on our account we’re just grabbing some snacks for the show.” Nat said smugly. Wanda buried her face in your neck, clearly embarrassed, as were you. She climbed off of you and walked into the kitchen.

“Ha ha very funny Nat.” Wanda said while walking over to grab some water. You sat up on the couch eyes trained on the girl with reddish hair. Her hair was disheveled from the heated make out session, and her lips were already swollen a little.

“It’s so good to finally see my roomie after a week of being MIA.” She said while smiling at you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You said as you rolled your eyes. You finally got up from the couch to sit on a stool in the kitchen. You weren’t sure what would happen next. Wanda came over however and picked the seat right next to you scooting it closer, so she was basically on top of you, which you weren’t complaining about. It had only been a few minutes, but you already missed her being in such close proximity to you.

The four of you stayed up chatting before Bruce and Nat decided to go to bed, claiming they had a long day tomorrow. As they walked out you turned to Wanda smiling.

“Hi,” you said with a smile spreading across your lips.

“Hi,” she said back just as smiley, reaching her arms around your shoulders as she had done earlier that night.

“Would you maybe, I don’t know, mind if I kissed you again?” you said shyly. She didn’t even answer before bringing her lips to your again. The action that was so foreign before was now becoming addicting. The kiss this time was short however before she pulled away.

“Would you maybe, I don’t know, want to be my girlfriend? If not, I totally understand if it’s too fast for you.” You just brought your lips to hers as your answer. You pulled away and simply took her hand in yours before guiding her to your room. You made out but that was it nothing went any further. You just laid in the comfort of each other’s arms for the rest of the night.

In the morning you woke up with a smile on your face and an amazing girl in your arms. You got up to go get some coffee for the two of you in the kitchen. You walked out to see none other than Nat and this time Steve too.

“Hey there Y/N! Do anything fun last night?” Steve asked with a smile on his face. Nat had already told him.

“You’re dead Romanoff.” You said while pouring a cup of coffee.

“Oh, come on Y/N! I can’t help it if you guys are adorable together. Steve, you should’ve seen them last night they were like connected at the hip the entire night.”

“I can’t wait till the rest of the group finds out. Bucky, Sam, and Tony, all owe me $15.” Steve said nonchalantly.

“What do you mean they owe you money?” you asked confused by the statement.

“Well, you guys were already inseparable, and I figured it was a matter of time before you both got together so I made a pool of when it would happen. I said before the end of the month which happened, so I win.” He said it like it was obvious.

“Yeah, you guys couldn’t get together like a week earlier?” Nat asked annoyed.

“Hey now, no more betting on my love life, ok? Or else next time I want in.” you said cheekily.

“Well now, there is a pool when the two of you will sleep together, you want in on that?” Steve said.

“They almost did last night believe me.” Nat jumped in before you could argue. Just then Wanda came out of your room with a yawn. Steve and Nat just whipped their heads to look at you with ‘oh shit’ eyes.

Wanda came over and wrapped her arms around your waist before reaching up to give you a kiss. You melted into her before she pulled away “Morning cutie.” She said before taking the coffee out of you hand and going to sit next to Steve who was still shocked that Wanda just exited your room.

“You do not mess around. Damn Y/N” Nat said with a mischievous grin.

“Ok Nat, it took you what like an hour before you jumped Bruce’s bones.” You counteracted. That shut her up real fast as Wanda looked around clearly confused by the conversation she had missed. After that night you and Wanda were the next couple in the group. Everyone supported you guys and soon enough you got your own place together to watch movies together.

152 notes · View notes

narrators-journal · 4 years ago

Text

The great escape

oh boy oh boy, it’s here! The sequelette! For those who don’t know, this is a small follow up to my story ‘Inquisitive obsessions’ So if you want the full story, go read that first. This one won’t be overtly Yandere, but I still hope you guys have fun with it.

CW: lotsa pregnancy talk in this one. I’m not that knowledgeable of the topic, so likely gonna have some shoddy parts.

Ever since you had met Illumi, your life had changed forever. You didn't notice it at first, too caught up in being in a relationship to remember seeing him lurking outside your house after a date, or to remember the pair of underwear you'd randomly lost despite seeing them on your bathroom floor right before you went to bed that night. It was only after that brightly colored, card-slinging maniac, who you later found out was named Hisoka, murdered the butlers Illumi had set as your prison guards and then tried to 'introduce himself to you' as if he hadn't just slaughtered other humans like cattle that it finally really set in how deep of trouble you were in. Luckily, you had run to the bathroom as if to throw up and then slipped out of your bathroom window to run for help. Unluckily, Illumi was swift to find you. After that, the 'honeymoon phase' violently ended.

Of course, after kidnapping getting you safely to his family home, Illumi didn't explain anything you asked him about, your life couldn't be that easy, but you had your suspicions that a lot of the weird occurrences you'd been faced with before properly meeting him could be placed at his feet. However, you were in no place to investigate or try to escape. You were taken to the main house, situated in Illumi's bedroom, and almost never alone after that. If Illumi wasn't showering you with gifts, compliments, and cuddles, his mother was eager to befriend you, snatching you up from the halls at the rare times you were permitted to walk the home alone to have tea and tell you all about her plans for you and her son's marriage, or the baby. You hated it, and you were noticeably miserable.

Because of that, Illumi did his best to make you happy, distracting you with talk of baby names, wedding details, your hobbies, anything he could think of to try and make you happy. And it would work for a while, you'd get swept up in his charms and melt into his touch when he cuddled up to you at night, but not too long after, you'd crash again. You'd given up on trying to escape, you'd been driven up to the estate, so you knew how big the mountain was and just how hopelessly trapped you really were, but you would still sob, smack and try to hit the long-haired assassin, and just try to get away from him, even though he never let you leave his sight for fear of 'the baby being harmed.

' As the days passed, you did eventually settle into your predicament, though there was always an intense urge to run if you got the chance. You played along with Kikyo, let Illumi love on you and be excited for the baby, and learned how to not only cope with the fear you now felt towards your 'fiance,' but avoid the brunt of Illumi's manipulative powers, mostly by avoiding looking into his dark, soulless eyes, which would leave you groggy and with static for thoughts. He wasn't a fan of that, but he remained unreadable and cold, never laying a hand on you or showing aggression towards you to avoid stressing you out. He treated you like the world's most fragile porcelain doll because of your pregnancy. That one odd behavior at least got explained though, so that was progress. "I'm very well trained to fight, so I'm very strong. You...are very much so not." It wasn't much, but considering the most you'd gotten out of him when you'd tried to question him before was some form of topic change, you took it. Either way though, you were thankful that he treated you so delicately, because you didn't want to think of the possible alternatives. On the bright side though, your reluctant acceptance did open up more freedoms to you. Mainly, it was the freedom to talk to a single person outside of the Zoldyck family when Illumi was off on jobs, but once he was home that freedom was taken away again. Thankfully though, that wasn't your only freedom, you also got to go along with a butler to shop in town. Of course, Illumi or Kikyo came with, hovering protectively nearby while you walked the town's shops, getting exercise and socialization under the watchful eye of your fiance or karen-like mother-in-law. Illumi usually spent your time out trailing behind you like a ghost, helping when he felt you couldn't do something alone, but otherwise leaving you to do whatever you needed while always feeling his eyes on you. At the very least, you could somewhat ignore him and maybe even...pretend to be normal while he was being protective, unlike his mother, who would never leave you alone when out, and was all around demanding and very hard to miss. It was a brief reprieve from the insanity, but it was welcome. However, that was just it. A brief escape. Whenever you returned to the car you were reminded that you really had been snatched from your home by your boyfriend and pushed into a marriage you didn't want. Finally though, on a particularly cold late-winter night almost three months after your engagement, as you laid in bed with Illumi, staring at the wall with his arm wrapped securely around your midsection and his forehead resting between your shoulder blades, you decided to try a pretty risky ask. You didn't expect him to agree, but you couldn't deal with him lingering around you anymore. It was worth a shot. "I-Illumi," you croaked, your voice quiet and almost strangled with anxiety and fear, but you forced yourself onwards after he hummed in acknowledgement, "Tomorrow, could I maybe go out alone? O-or at least only with a butler?" you squeaked, your stomach twisting with nerves as you waited the excruciatingly long moments it took for him to ponder your request and reply with no sign to give away his feelings. "Why?" He asked, and you were really missing the days where he put feeling into his words. His monotonous, unreadable voice gave you anxiety. "I..." You took a deep breath to steady your quivering voice, deciding honesty was safest, "I'm still scared of you after you got so aggressive when I told you I was pregnant, and...um, y-your mom is...kinda smothering." Your voice died with each word after 'and', but he still heard you. There was another stretch of silence before he hummed, "Fine, but if you misbehave in any way on this trip, you won't leave the house for the rest of your pregnancy." He warned, and you didn't need him to emote to know he was deathly serious, so you simply nodded and thanked him before curling up and trying your best to sleep. When morning came, you were sure to be on your best behavior while Illumi arranged a butler to take you into town. You'd only get an hour to do whatever you wanted, but it was maybe your only chance to leave the mountain without the manipulative predator who called himself your fiance breathing down your neck. So, when it finally came time for you to leave, you gave the assassin a kiss on the cheek before you left. With that, you had a long car ride with no looming threat or awkward, prying conversations, just peace, quiet, and a lovely view of trees drifting by outside of the car window along the way. It ended up being so peaceful, that you fell asleep for most of the ride, only waking when the driver hit a bump in the road and jolted you out of your dreams and into a slightly panicked state. Instantly putting you on edge as you expected to be faced with Illumi beside you, watching you blankly, or your mother-in-law trying to feel the small bump beginning to show on your belly for the umpteenth time that day. But, when you opened your (e/c) eyes and gave a frantic scan of the backseat, neither were there. You're safe. They're back at the estate. You told yourself, taking a few deep breaths to slow your thundering heart. You finally had no murderous assassin of any sort nearby. You were 2 hours away from the estate, a total of at least 4 from the main house. You soon realized, you could run. Do you really want to live life in terror? Being used as a broodmare and watching your baby be turned into a small Illumi? The braver, more realistic voice in your head whispered while you watched trees zoom by through the car window, but he's a dangerous man. He found you when you ran the first time, do you think you could get away a second time? And STAY away? the more fearful inner voice piped up, but at the thought of possibly being free that first voice won out. Because of that, you knew in an instant that you were already at a point of no return if you even began this path, but you were also determined to not be trapped in a fearful marriage, watching your child suffer. So, you curled up and covertly unlaced your shoe lace, a small luxury you'd gotten to sooth one of your earlier melt downs about being trapped in such a restrictive relationship, than, you struck. In a flash, you coiled the lace around your hands and looped it over the driver's seat and the butler's throat. You put your foot against the back of the seat and felt hot tears burn your eyes in both terror and instant regret as the car skidded to a halt so the butler could try to fight for his life. However, while the help had been trained to be demons in their own right, you somehow managed to overpower his frantic attempts to free himself with your own frantic, shakey, teary-eyed strength. You were hysterical as you did it, but you successfully strangled the poor butler after an excruciatingly long time. "ohgodimsosorry," you wept as you scrambled to the front seat and pushed the body out onto the deserted road, fighting the urge to vomit just yet as you took his place. You then had to scrub your eyes three times before your vision was clear enough for you to drive, but even after calming down a bit, your breaths were still raking through your chest, and you could already feel a headache coming from the intensity of your sobs as you drove into the town and repeatedly plead for forgiveness for the murder. However, when you found a bus stop, you scraped up your composure and did your best to hide just how distraught you were. Luckily, the clerk was an angel, getting you a ticket for free when they saw just how dishevelled and snivelling you were, deducing correctly that you needed help and doing their best to assist. So, you got a cup of water and clutched your ticket like a child protecting their lollipop from a greedy sibling, settled inside and out of view to await the bus and calm down. That was when you got the call. The phone ringing sent an icy hot bolt of primal terror through your body, but you bit that back and went ahead and answered it with shaking hands, (e/c) eyes blurring with tears again when you heard the sickly familiar indifferent voice on the other end of the line, "(y/n)," Illumi said, not even sounding pissed, just slightly bored, as if he'd expected this. "I understand you are scared about all of the changes and are somewhat sensitive right now, but I cannot let you leave. Please return home before I have to come collect you." Just like that, the rabid courage that gave you that first push of determination was wiped away like a leaf in a tornado. After all, it was so much easier to make an escape when Illumi wasn't looming over you, but now that he was talking to you, knowing damned well what you were up to, you had the powerful urge to burst into tears and drive back to the Zoldyck estate. No! This is the exact reason you were such easy prey for him in the first place! that courageous voice pointed out, essentially slapping some sense into you as you swallowed your sobs and those submissive urges, this is your one chance! if you go back, he's never going to leave you alone for a SECOND. Run! This is your only chance! With that last point, you gulped down breaths, steeling your nerves before speaking at last "No." You croaked, your voice barely a whisper, but you still sensed the switch in Illumi's mood when he heard, "(y/n). Come home. Right. Now. You won't like it if I have to come and get you." he said, his voice finally changing from flat and bored, to dripping with a threat as his mask cracked and his anger slipped through so clearly you could almost feel him grabbing you by the throat, but you saw your bus beginning to load, so you had to make a snap judgement as quickly as Illumi's emotional outburst passed and he returned to indifference. "Listen, I'm trying my best to not be terrifying or anything, but I'd be a horrible hu-" You hung up on him and tossed the phone out of the window once you'd gotten onto the bus and it had begun the journey down the road. Something about that single, simple action felt more like throwing one of your shackles out of the window instead of a phone.

#Illumi x reader #Sequelette #sequel #Illumi #x reader #outrunning obsessions #fanfiction #quotev #hxh #hunter x hunter

90 notes · View notes

maadorii · 4 years ago

Text

taste my disaster— i. matsukawa x gn! reader

max.note’s: i really thought about not posting this and just keeping this in my dungeon to never see the light of day but i really like this concept so here it is, mattsun romcom hehe

synopsis: where a supposed “one time fling” during iwaizumi’s bachelor trip turns into something more. somehow.

warnings/tags: strangers to lovers, fluff, implied sexual content, suggestive themes, slow-burnish, mutual pining, recreational drug-use, food mention, pancakes

w.count— 3.8k

if there was one thing matsukawa was expecting to do on this trip, it was to get drunk while speeding down the strip at 2am from a night of gambling from the most expensive casinos las vegas had to offer. right? it was iwaizumi’s 2-week bachelor trip that oikawa had so meticulously planned mostly because he didn’t want to throw some measly little party like everyone else. he was getting married, why wouldn’t they all go out for him this one time.

but, if there was one thing matsukawa was not expecting to do on this trip, was somehow end up black out drunk; the only thing he could remember was hanamaki losing a game of black jack at caesar’s palace–– and wake up in a unfamiliar bed, naked, with a unfamiliar warm body next to him still sound asleep. who was just as naked as he was.

it took him a minute, but when everything clicked together in his brain, matsukawa let out the deepest sigh he could muster. sinking deeper into the plush bed below him, dragging his hands across his face, pulling at the skin. his head was pounding, unbearably so, the luminous rays of the sun that filter through the curtain drapes making it worse. he looked over to you, your back turned towards him as you slept away peacefully. matsukawa’s indolent eyes leisurely scanned the expanse of your back, how it bloomed with hickeys and teeth marks. your muffled snores were the only thing that filled the stark silence of the room.

matsukawa didn’t know what to fear more, the fact that he had sex with a random stranger last night and is now laying in their bed or iwaizumi’s wrath when he eventually gets back to the hotel.

iwaizumi’s wrath, he chooses. definitely.

peering over the bedside to the floor, he sees the clothes he had on yesterday strew haphazardly along with your own clothes. in the mess he finds his phone just barley alive and about several hundred text messages and missed phone calls. most of them were from oikawa, unsurprisingly. a lot of “where are you’s” and “please call us” and even a “did you die on us bro?” but that’s when he noticed the time.

[12:42 pm]

“aw fuck.” matsukawa cursed as he flopped back on the bed, his arm lifting up to cover his eyes in annoyance. as he contemplated his options on potentially surviving this fuck up of his, you shifted next to him which caught his attention. he watched as your body turned to face him and how your eyes slowly fluttered open, the way your pupils dilated to welcome the grating sunlight.

and when your eyes met his, you stared for a moment before closing your eyes again and snuggled back into your pillow. “––mornin’ random person in my bed...”

matsukawa looked back confusingly, opening his mouth to say something back, when your eyes shot back wide open and jolted out the bed, dragging the duvet with you.

“random person in my bed?! how–– how did get into my room,” you paused as matsukawa’s naked and lean body was on full display for you to gaze upon, inevitably resulting in your face burning up like a sauna.

“and why are you naked, why am i naked?!” you screeched, wrapping your duvet around yourself, completely drowning yourself in the material. and then it sunk in for you.

“oh no, don’t tell me––”

“that we fucked? yes.” if any more possible, you could feel your face grew hotter at his... extremely blunt statement at your predicament. you watched as matsukawa reached over the bed and slipped his legs through his boxers. at least he had the decency to cover up you thought to yourself as he shifted his way towards you on the other side of the bed.

“look... i- i’m just as surprised and quite frankly, embarrassed about this too. i’m really sorry about all this. i’ll... just grab my stuff and i’ll be out of your hair in no time.” you didn’t get the chance to say anything as he backed away to start pulling on the clothes he had on the night before, watching him silently as he did so. you couldn’t help but feel bad as he took his time to dress himself. your gaze lingered on his eyes, and how they droop in remorse.

just as he was pulling on his right sock, you stepped closer into his field of vision. “can i... at least know your name?” you take note of how the dark umber in his eyes seemed to glow for a split second, his gaze shifting over to you. still draped in that damn duvet like a fucking burrito.

“it’s issei, issei matsukawa.”

you nodded your head, jutting your chin out confidently.

“well then, issei matsukawa. i, (y/n) (l/n), kindly ask you to join me for breakfast–– wait time is it... brunch? lunch? ahhh, fuck it. just come get something to eat with me. please?”

––

matsukawa watched as you shoved half of your omelette in your mouth, your eyes gleaming as you chewed happily, savoring the flavor.

the table was loaded with an assortment of all kinds of food, mostly breakfast food. from sweet honeyed pastries to smoky, charred sausages. in front of him was a stack of warm and fluffy buttery pancakes, dripping in warm gooey syrup. matsukawa could feel his mouth water just simply staring at it, his fingers twitching to inch towards the fork next to the plate, dying to have a bite.

you noticed his tentative actions towards the plate in front of him, the way his teeth pulled on his bottom lip in slight anticipation. swallowing the mouthful of food, you nudge him with foot, catching his attention.

“eat, i know you’re hungry. you don’t need my permission to eat,” you chastised, returning to your omelette.

matsukawa didn’t waste any time digging into his food, practically shoving the whole pancake in mouth. his nostrils flared out as he chewed, moaning at the flavor bursting on his tongue. you chuckled as he quickly shoveled another one in his mouth.

“woah, slow down there tiger. good aren’t they?”

he nodded frantically and continued to shovel bite after bite. and you smiled at that. it still was kinda crazy how you’re out eating with someone that you... just had sex with last night. a one night stand? can you even call it that? was this even a normal thing? you weren’t entirely sure considering you couldn’t remember a single damn thing from last night.

when you both finished most of the food, tummies full and satisfied, a slightly uncomfortable silence fell between you two.

“so...” you started, tapping your fingers against the mug as you looked anywhere but the man in front of you.

“so...” matsukawa copied your actions. you sunk lower in your chair, blowing the hair that landed on your face. why was this so hard? oh wait...

“since we...we, well you know where i’m going with this––”

“since we had sex? fucked?” his eyebrow twitched upward.

“well shit, you didn’t have to put it so... bluntly, issei.” you remarked.

“shit, i was just simply stating what we’re both thinking, (y/n).” the corner of his lips tugged with mirth at your annoyed face, his eyes crinkling at the corner.

you couldn’t help your own lips tug the same as his, your body shaking as laughter struck between the two of you. as you both laughed, the waiter brought over the check, clearing some plates out the way while doing so. matsukawa was about to reached out to grab the bill before you snatched it out of his reach. he was about to argue but you pulled out your card, already handing it to the waiter as he returned.

––

“oh, so you’re from new york?” you asked as you both weaved through the heavily dense sidewalks of the vegas strip, an assortment of performers and tourist, big and small accompanied you. nothing new you haven't seen before. all while dying in the blistering heat that did nothing but sit on your backs.

“well technically, i was born in a small town in japan, but moved when my parents decided to immigrate here when i was about, ahhh i don’t know 4 or 5 years old.” matsukawa explained, wiping the sweat beaded at his brows. “what about you?”

“me? i was born and raised here in good ole' nevada. but i didn’t move here to vegas until high school.” you cheered unenthusiastically with just as unenthusiastic jazz hands. "it's nothing really special, vegas i mean."

“really? well, i guess that makes sense. you did take me a hole in the wall restaurant with damn near the best pancakes on the fucking earth. ” you chortled at his statement, hanging off matsukawa’s arm as you laughed loudly, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

“oh god, you’re still on about those damn pancakes?”

“yes i am! those beautiful, golden brown cakes of pure buttery fluffiness that just basically melt in your mouth at the first bite?” he rambled, basically foaming at the mouth. conversation was light between the two of you, it felt natural. not forced. matsukawa didn’t make things awkward. it felt so carefree talking to him, almost as if you’re floating.

but it was when you came to, that you realized that you made it to the hotel that matsukawa was supposed to be staying at. a part of you grew glum at the thought of having to separate from the man next to you. within the last few hours that you spent with matsukawa, you came to the conclusion that you really, really liked him. what wasn’t there to like about him? he had a great sense of humor, he was charming and gentlemen like. and, that fact he was incredibly attractive was just the cherry on top of the sundae.

you didn’t want to leave, in fact, you can bathe in the attention he showered you in.

“welp, i guess it’s time to die.” he said dryly as he turned to you, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“good luck with that. i hope your friend doesn't kill you, but based on the description of him you gave, it seems likely.”

“yes, highly.”

a silence fell over the both of you again for the second time that day, avoiding each other's lingering gazes. why was this shit still hard?

“can- can i have your number?” he blurted out randomly, voicing your thoughts out loud for the both of you. staring into his umber eyes, you broke contact first to pull out your phone from your back pocket to hand it to him.

“i’ll be honored.”

––

surprisingly, matsukawa wasn’t murdered by iwaizumi when he walked into the hotel room ten minutes later. though, he did get a hard scolding from not only iwaizumi but oikawa as well while hanamaki snickered in the background.

“i feel like a five year old who's been caught with sticky fingers.” matsukawa slumped, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“as you should! what the hell were you thinking last night? getting drunk and having a one night stand with someone else, jesus mattsun, and i thought maki was bad.” oikawa grumbled frowning, but it didn’t last long when hanamaki threw a dirty sock at the back of his head. matsukawa rolled his eyes at the two childish adults began fighting with each other, wrapping each other up in headlocks of the sorts.

he sighed again, lifting himself up from the so called “interrogation” chair as hanamaki called it to head towards the shower. “hey, mattsun.”

perking up at the nickname, he turned around to see iwaizumi standing behind him with an unreadable face. earlier when he walked in, his face definitely was the face of anger and rightfully so. but now...

“just be careful next time, okay?”

and matsukawa knew exactly what he meant.

“yea, okay.”

––

later that evening, after contemplating whether or not you should send a “hi!” or a simple “hey,” you finally texted matsukawa. and almost immediately you got a text back from him. you bounced up and down in your room, feeling like an excited teenager who just talked to their crush for the first time all over again. is this what it was? a crush? maybe, and you should be mad at yourself for feeling like this, but you didn’t have the heart to do so.

and over the span of the next week, the messages never seemed to end. on some nights, he would call you instead of texting you to tell you about his day. what attractions he went to see that day, what places he went to eat at that day and how much money he lost playing poker at the casinos. and he would ask you about your day, about your day at work. did you eat today, are you taking care of yourself?

your heart melted at the sweet messages he would send you throughout the day, reminding you to care of yourself and heck, maybe even be a little selfish if need be. some of your coworkers caught onto your starstruck gaze when you looked at your phone and few even tried to ask why but you’ll brush them off. oikawa, hanamaki and iwaizumi even noticed matsukawa’s sudden interest in his phone recently. and even when they're all laughing at oikawa losing again for the third time at russian roulette, matsukawa wasn’t entirely in the moment.

because he’s waiting for a text from you.

they noticed the way his eyes glowed when his phone ping, indicating that you texted him back finally. the way his ears perked like dog. although they were suspicious, they didn’t say anything, knowing he’ll come around eventually.

–

it was the friday before they all had to fly back to new york, the cool desert night air filled his lungs as matsukawa perched himself on the balcony of the hotel room. the gleaming lights of the vegas strip below illuminated the curves of his face in a soft glow of blue, magenta and gold.

suddenly, his phone started ringing in his back pocket. he smiled when he saw it was your contact lightening the screen of his phone. answering, he brought the phone towards his ear, “well hello my dear (y/n). nice of you to call me on this fine evening we’re having here.”

he hears you snort on the other end over the slight static of the phone. there was muffle shuffling before you replied, “nothing much my dear issei, just sitting here bored as hell so i thought, why not give you a call.”

matsukawa felt his heart skip a beat at your statement, trying to contain the smile that was tugging on his lips.

“haha, how thoughtful of you...” and then it was quiet again, save for the occasional horns of cars stuck in traffic.

“hey, uh… issei?” you interrupted.

“yeah?”

“can i… can i see you tonight?”

––

matsukawa stood outside the place you asked him to meet at 30 minutes ago on the phone, which just so happen to be a very crowded and loud nightclub not far from the hotel he was staying at. he could hear the bass of the music thump against inside of his bones, the rhythm sending chills up his spine. he watched as people filed into the building like a swarm of files.

it was another 5 minutes until he heard your voice call out to him from behind. and when he turned around to say hi back, his jaw dropped to the floor at the sight of you. but he quickly contained himself as you approached him, trying to blow away the rouge that tinted his cheeks in the slightest.

“hey, ready to go inside?” you questioned, reaching out to hold his hand, pulling him slightly towards the entrance of the club. and he nodded dumbly behind you, cursing himself inside his head for acting like a hormonal teenage boy in front of you. he couldn’t help it, especially when you’re holding his hand. you can blame it on being touch-starved.

when finally inside, bulbs of black light were hung overhead on the ceiling, making everything brighter, making the sea of club goers nothing more than blobs of fuchsia, tangerine, and aqua. you and matsukawa wormed your way through the swarm of adults, bodies sweaty, sticky and hot, shaking and bobbing their heads to the music that blasted in the overhead speakers. finding two available seats at the bar, you both situated yourselves onto the stools overlooking the crowd.

“this is an interesting place you’ve brought me here, i honestly wasn’t expecting it.” you hear matsukawa say next to you, turning his attention to you.

“yeah, this is one of the few clubs here in vegas that i actually go to from time to time. plus security is pretty tight here, so hopefully you won’t end up fucking someone else.” you gave him a thumbs up, a dorky smile making its way onto your lips. matsukawa’s shoulders shook as he laughed, turning towards the bartender, ordering two old fashioned’s.

“an old fashioned? wow, i didn’t take you for a rye whiskey type of guy.” you teased, reaching out to grab your drinks when the bartender placed them in front of you. matsukawa shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of his own drink.

“well, i’m always full of surprises, they say.” and when he looked at you from the corner of his eye, you could’ve sworn a you felt a chill borrow itself into your bones from the predatory gaze he sent your way. that, mixed with the half-buttoned up shirt with the gold chain he wore exposing so much skin–– much to your own liking; the way his inky curls were slicked back away from face. you swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling incredibly hot under the neon lights.

this was simply a recipe for absolute disaster, but you didn’t mind at all.

an hour later, after several drinks later, you found yourself being dragged onto the dance floor by a slightly tipsy matsukawa leading the way. reaching the center, the lights dimmed down even lower, the neon lights appear more luminescent in the room. The nerves you felt moments ago seemed to vanish as your body began moving to the beat of music along with matsukawa, feeling lighter than the air around you. matsukawa started doing these stupid dance moves to the song currently playing, getting a rise out of you. and at some point, the mini circle formed around the two of you as you danced the night away together, encouraged by the cheers and whistles of the crowd.

matsukawa didn’t want this to end.

the way you’ll cling to him whether it was from laughing too hard or when you danced together to another song.

then this one song started crooning over the speakers, catching his attention.

almost instantly, it was like time stopped around him, bleeding into a colorful flurry of fireworks. illuminating your face even more so with explosions of lavender and magenta, hints of quinacridone gold and phthalo blue.

his body relaxed seemingly watching you jump around without a care in the world. the beaming smile that radiated on your face that could argue the sun. your eyes glittering with such mirth. he hasn’t even known you for very long, but was really going to admit to himself that he… that he was possibly in love with you?

no, no, no, it’s too early to say something as... drastic as something like that. but was it?

he’s never felt like this with anyone before at all, but with you, he felt at ease. like he could be himself without having to worry about what’ll think. but there was no denying that he felt something for you.

“issei? hey, are you okay?” it was you who snapped out of his daze.

“oh yea, i’m fine… say, how about we get out of here?”

––

you drove yourselves just outside the strip to the open desert, gazing up the phosphorescence of stars in the pitch black sky on the hood of your car. no words were shared between the two of you as you let the alcohol sink into your systems. And it was like that for a while, until you interrupted that silence.

“you have to go back to new york on monday, right?”

matsukawa didn’t answer right away, letting your question digest in his mind, word by word. he wanted to say no, he really did, but y’all both knew that’ll be a lie.

“yes…”

at his answer, you sat up from your lying position on the hood, matsukawa following right behind you. your eyebrows were scrunched in distress, and he was about to say something before you beat him to the punch line.

“issei, i… i know this whole thing is really out of the ordinary for both of us, but i can’t get these feelings off my chest. i’ve only known you for what–– two weeks? but it feels like i’ve known you my entire life and i don’t know what to do— a-and you’re leaving and i don’t want you to leave and—” you rambled on before matsukawa leaned forward to press his lips against yours, ultimately shutting you up. you didn’t waste any time returning the kiss. the same fireworks from before were going off like crazy around you like it was new year’s or the fourth of july. the moment was too surreal for any of you to believe it was real.

and when he pulled just enough where your lips barely met, he the corner his lips twitched upwards, his hand coming around to cup the supple roundness of your cheek, his thumb gently grazing the warm skin, “it’s okay, (y/n). i feel the same way.”

“then, promise me you’ll come back.”

“for you and those pancakes? a thousand times over.”

smiling, your lips dove to meet his again, this time harder, steamier. matsukawa slowly pulled himself on top of you, trapping you as you lie back down on the hood of the car, intensifying the kiss. he moved his lips away from yours to latched them onto your cheek, leaving a trail of glowing kisses, trailing down to your jaw as a small mewl slipping past your teeth. you weaved your fingers through the ringlets of curls of his hair, gently tugging on the strands.

matsukawa’s hands felt up and down your torso underneath your shirt, feeling the expanse of skin beneath the pad of his finger tips, leaving burning trails in its foot.

“issei, p-please…”

“with pleasure.”

turns out he wasn’t wrong, he was certainly always full of surprises.

#haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu x reader #hq!! x reader #issei matsukawa #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa fluff #mattsun x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu fluff #hq imagines #mattsun fluff

111 notes · View notes

purpletaecup · 4 years ago

Photo

7 ☾ i loved you. i’m sorry.

warnings: depictions of panic attacks

notes: writing the end of this chapter made me cry t^t luv u guys, thank you for the support. i love writing this story so much! feel free to send an ask to the IFU universe characters or vent to me about them! also, there is a picture in here that i drew!!!! it’s not that great but I hope you guys like it :-)

word count: 4,471

“Who are you?”

Those words echo in Yoongi’s ear as if it was his final judgment from the king of hell. He staggered but held onto the edge of your hospital bed to keep from falling. He could only look at you in shock and silence while the doctor came up from behind him and examined you.

“Miss Kim, how are you feeling? Is there any pain?” The doctor asked.

You rubbed and blinked a couple of times. Everything was still a little blurry.

“M’head hurts and my body is so sore,” you reply. “Why am I here?”

“What’s the last thing you remember, Miss Kim?”

Rubbing your temples, you groaned in frustration, not remembering how you ended up in this hospital bed.

“I can’t remember. Everything’s really fuzzy right now.”

The doctor turns to Yoongi, who sat himself down on the chair further away from you.

“Do you recognize him?”

You looked at the man in the chair and examined him for a while. There’s a chill that runs through Yoongi’s body as he sees your eyes roam him from head to toe. He almost expects to see some kind of anger or resentment on your face, but receives nothing but confusion.

You turn back to the doctor shaking your head. He opens his mouth to say something but Yoongi beats him to it.

“It’s okay, doc, we can talk about that later, but is she okay? You said your head was hurting, right, Yn?” He says, looking back at you.

Cautiously, you nod at him before looking at the doctor again.

“It’s throbbing and it feels like there’s drums banging in my head.”

“This is all completely normal. You were in a pretty severe car accident and received a pretty worrisome head injury. You were unconscious for about five days, so your body has already started its healing process. In the coming weeks, you might experience some delayed symptoms related to the concussion you received.”

“What kind of symptoms? Is she going to be okay?” Though shocked as he was with your current predicament, Yoongi couldn’t help but worry even more.

“Mr. Min, if you would just let me continue, I can give you and Miss Yn all the answers you need. Because of the nature of the accident, she received a pretty bad head injury resulting in a concussion I believe to be grade II or III.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked.

“It’s just a way to classify the severity of the concussion you received. Since you were in a car accident, you sustained a lot of other injuries but nothing too severe like broken bones. Miraculously enough, you managed to be wheeled away with only lacerations, bruising and a head injury. You were unconscious for about five days and you’re exhibiting signs of amnesia along with blurriness and headaches. These are all signs of a grade II or III concussion, though we won’t know which one until after a few more days of monitoring. Either way, there is the possibility of delayed symptoms like headaches, nausea and imbalance. After we’ve monitored your brain activity and symptoms for a few days, we can determine the grade of concussion clearly and proceed with treatment if needed. I’m leaning a bit more towards a grade II because you’re still able to speak and understand in a normal manner, but the memory loss is worrisome so we’ll have to monitor that and see if it lasts for over 24 hours or not.”

You groaned and tried to sit up straighter, but your muscles, so sore and unused for days, were making it difficult. Yoongi, who had inched closer and closer to you while the doctor spoke, held your hand in one of his while the other helped push you to sit up more comfortably. You murmur a soft thanks in his direction.

“I still don’t understand. You’re saying that I have amnesia, but I feel like I remember everything I should. I know my name, my parent’s names, my friends and my family’s names.” You begin to explain, not really understanding the whole ‘amnesia’ thing.

“How old are you? And what year is it?” The doctor asked while scribbling on your chart.

“19, and it’s 2016.” As soon as those words came out of your mouth, Yoongi fell into a quiet shock once again. Not only had you not recognized him, he was completely erased from your memory. You two met when you were 19, and in your head, you were 19 and you had no idea who he was, so your memory must have conveniently stopped sometime before you met him. He almost scoffs at the irony of it all.

“Miss Kim, you’re 23. You just turned 23 two months ago and it’s currently 2020. Today is the eleventh of November.”

The gasp leaves your mouth before you realize it. Your shaky hands lift up to cover your mouth and you feel tears well up in your eyes from the impact of the doctor’s statement.

“What do you mean? How can I just lose four years in my memory?” Your voice cracks when you ask and through the tears and the shaky breaths, you feel the ghost of a hand on your back.

“That, we don’t know. We haven’t seen an amnesia case this severe in decades, but that’s why we’re going to be monitoring you. Amnesia in head injury patients is pretty unpredictable, but most people who experience amnesia usually only lose memories within the day or at most a week, but it usually never lasts for more than a couple of days. You losing four years of memories doesn’t essentially correlate to how long it will take to regain those memories. For all we know, you could get them back tonight, but like I said, it’s pretty unpredictable.”

It takes a moment for all of it to sink in and absorb. Okay, so you lost four years of memories, but you might regain them soon. Although it’s not a guarantee, it’s still a possibility. You wipe the tears and you steady your breath before turning to the doctor once again.

“What’s he got to do with all of this? I still don’t know who he is or why he’s here.” You ask while pointing to the man beside you.

The doctor looks at you, then looks at him as if expecting him to take the floor and explain things himself.

“I’m Min Yoongi.” He holds out his hand intending you shake yours. You lift your wired up hand to his and he encloses it gently. It’s warm.

“Okay, Min Yoongi, that doesn’t explain how I’m supposed to know you?” You question again, a little bit of attitude in your voice.

It’s silent for a moment. Sensing the tension, the doctor excuses himself, telling them that he’ll send some nurses to help with your headaches and soreness.

Yoongi’s grip tightens on your hand. He contemplates for a little while about how to explain who he was in your life and who you were in his. Can he say that you’re his wife? Will that make it easier for the both of you since you were pregnant? But that was a lie, because you were divorced.

And he had lied to you enough times during your marriage. He thinks it might be the time to be more truthful.

“We were together for four years.” He starts. You wriggle your hand out of his, feeling a little too warm.

“Ah, if we were together for four years, how come I don’t remember you?”

Yoongi thinks about how to answer this one. He hums for a couple of seconds before he asks, “well, in your head, when did you turn 19?”

It was your turn to let a “hmm” pass your lips this time.

“Last week!”

“Okay, so in your timeline, we would have met next week. Two weeks after your birthday, on September 24.”

You nod your head in understanding, but you wince pretty obviously right after. The bruises are aching and you think it’s because you sat up for too long. Yoongi puts his hand on your arm and guides you to lay down.

“Here, just lay down and I’ll sit right here and answer your questions, okay?” He reassures.

After laying down, you try to move your body to the side so you could face where he was sitting.

“So how come you’re here and not my family members?” You asked after a minute’s silence, trying to think of a question to ask. If baffled you that this man you don’t even remember is the only one visiting you in broad daylight after a severe car accident.

“Jin was here with me the day of your accident. He said he was going to take care of you, but he got called in for work and had to travel out of the country a couple of days ago.”

“What about my mom?”

“Actually, I’m not really sure. Jin told me that she was abroad.”

“So you’re the only one left. Must be important if you were in my emergency contacts.”

“I was the only emergency contact you had according to the nurses.”

At this moment, Yoongi looked at you with sad eyes, but you didn’t know why. It felt like it was penetrating you and a nagging voice in the back of your head told you to stop looking at him.

Eager to ease the tension, you ask how the two of you met. Yoongi rests his elbow on the arm rest of the chair, plopping his chin down on his palm.

“Well, I had a music video shoot on the same day as yours. You were doing a photoshoot, I think, and you were using the same set room as me. I went there early to talk to the directors, but you were in the middle of your shoot and I just stayed. I asked my manager to ask for your number and we started talking and then I asked you to be my girlfriend on Halloween at a costume party.” There was a smile on Yoongi’s face when he recalled that particular memory.

He had no recollection of whose party it was, but you two showed up in the best costumes you could muster. Lydia Deetz in her wedding dress and Beetlejuice. The party was fun and the two of you had spent the night in the garden of the venue, just laying down and admiring the stars on Halloween night. It was nearing midnight when the both of you heard a countdown coming from inside. Why there was a countdown for midnight on Halloween, neither of you had a clue, but he took it as a sign and as the grandfather clock chimed, he gave you a gentle kiss and asked (whispered) you to be his girlfriend.

He remembered your laughter from that night and it brought an even larger smile to his face.

You looked at him in awe, thinking his smile was simply breathtaking.

“So you fell in love with me at first sight, huh?” You asked teasingly.

Yoongi glared at you, but as soon as he spotted your little smirk, the glare melted away and a hesitant smile made its way on his face again.

“For your information, it was at first laugh.” He simply stated. At that, you gave a gentle smile and a quiet giggle into your hand.

In that moment, Yoongi was taken back to the early days of your relationship. The appearance of that gentle smile had catapulted him back to the happier days of your story. It was so different from you in the recent months. You, who had been so sad and exhausted and frustrated. Though pale and bruised and in a hospital bed, you looked much more youthful than before, as if you had reverted back to the person that was happiness personified.

“Right, okay. At first laugh. Never heard that before.”

“I’m serious. It was like hearing bells.”

“That doesn’t sound very appealing.”

“Good bells.”

You laughed again, a little scratchy this time. Yoongi handed you the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Okay, so you fell in love with me at first laugh, then what happened?” You asked, eager to find out about this story. At the moment, you really had no inkling of who this man was, but it intrigued you to hear your apparent love story. You loved a good love story and this one, yours, seemed to have a good start. Because you couldn’t recall it, hearing it from his mouth is like looking into your own love story from an outsider’s point of view.

Yoongi took the glass of water and placed it back on the table.

“Well, we got together obviously, and we were together for four years.”

“Past tense, so you’re an ex-boyfriend?” This was getting more interesting. You have always associated exes with heartbreak (at least the ones you remembered), so this was interesting. You must have been good friends after the breakup for him to be your emergency contact.

“Ex-husband, actually.”

Oh.

That stopped you in your tracks. Now, divorce was something you had never, ever thought about. Mentally, you were 19, and at 19, you were worried about your career. You had suffered your fair share of heartbreaks and cheating bastards in high school and swore off marriage until you got yourself together, so this revelation confused you a little bit. You two met when you were 19, but here you are at, apparently, 23 years old and you’re divorced. That’s actually… unbelievable.

“We started dating on Halloween technically, but I proposed in July and that’s when we agreed to celebrate our anniversaries even though that sounds kind of silly. You thought it would be cute to just have one single date to celebrate our anniversary. Something about Halloween being sacred to you.” Yoongi laughed a little nervously, eager to soften the mood just a little bit. He knows you don’t really remember, but it still feels strange to talk about your divorce.

“Wait, so break this down for me a little bit more. How long were we married for?”

“2 years. So I proposed the July after we started dating and then we got married a year later on the same date.”

“And when did we get divorced?”

Yoongi fiddled with his fingers a bit before answering, “ The end of September. We were drifting for some months already, so I think divorce was the best option for us.”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was a little strange to be here, in a hospital bed, listening to this man (who is apparently your ex-husband) talk about your divorce. You felt like you should be feeling something more than this, but all you can feel is some kind of nonchalance, like you were listening to a lecture on a subject you didn’t like. Still, this was your love life, something you treasured with all of your heart, and the news of this divorce with a man you can’t even remember is shocking but in a detached way, if that made sense.

“That makes sense. No one should stay in a marriage where the feelings aren’t there anymore.” You say slowly, silently, absorbing this whole situation.

From your peripheral, you see Yoongi just nod, not saying anything. The silence that befell the two of you was somewhat comfortable but solemn at the same time.

The silence was interrupted by murmurs coming from Yoongi.

“Don’t worry. Even though we’re not together, I’ll still take care of you. You don’t have any immediate family and I’m the only one you really know in this city. The least I can do is take care of you.”

You look at him and shake your head. The independent part of you wanted to deny that. Even though you were mentally 19, in actuality you were 23 and you knew how to take care of yourself.

“It’s fine, Yoongi. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

That silences Yoongi for a bit. He remembers you saying that all the time, moreso during the time you decided to quit modelling. He was worried about you, but you always reassured him that there was nothing to worry about. You were a big girl. A woman. When these words came out of your mouth, it reminded him that although you didn’t remember much, you were still the woman he knew deep down.

Before he gets lost in his thoughts again, he lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I know you can, but you don’t even know where you live. Do you even remember how to drive? I remember you learned how to drive when you were 21.”

You furrow your brows, angry at his statements, but decide that you can’t refute since what he’s saying is completely true.

“Okay, valid. You can go home if you want, though. They said they were gonna keep me here for a couple of days, so you don’t have to come to the hospital until then, I guess. You look kind of rich… and famous, so you must be busy all the time.”

“I’m my own boss, so I can take my own time off, but I do need to go to the company to settle some things before you get discharged.”

As he talked, your eyes become droopy and were slow to blink.

“Yn, are you okay?” Yoongi asks as he moves closer to your face to examine you. Instinctively, you move back a little, but you’re still close enough to see his eyes up close. You decide to close your eyes.

You mumble a little. “Mhm, just sleepy. Head still hurts.”

Yoongi pulls the blanket up to cover up to your neck and fixes your hair so that it’s not in your face. The intimacy is strange, but not unwelcome, you think.

“Kay, just go back to sleep. I’ll go talk to your doctor then I’m going to the company, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow to give you some of your necessities.” He whispers.

You could barely hear him, but you nod anyways. The disappearance of his warm hand left a cold, empty feeling. Soon enough, you drifted off into sleep.

☽

Yoongi takes one last look at your sleepy form before he quietly leaves the room. He sees your doctor from the corner of his eye and walks up to him. Before he could ask anything, the doctor tells him that they have the results from a scan taken the day prior.

“There seems to be no traumatic damage to the brain, so we have high hopes about a smooth journey to recovery. Of course, she is pregnant, so that might make things a bit more delicate, but nothing that is too difficult to adjust to. She’s right in the middle of her first trimester, so you both really need to be careful. It’s already a miracle that the fetus survived. The rest is up to you guys.”

“And what about the amnesia?”

“We’re still confused about the memory loss. As I mentioned before, the last case of amnesia that was that severe was such a long time ago, and there was no explanation or pattern that was found in the brain to justify the timeline of the memory loss. 4 years is a really long time. We believe she might be more sensitive due to having such a huge gap in her memory. We don’t know what could trigger memories or how she would react to them, but you and the rest of her family should come up with things or events to stimulate her brain activity and remind her of some of the memories that she lost.”

“That sounds reasonable. I don’t want to overwhelm her too much, so I held back a lot when I was talking to her today. If it’s possible, can we hold off on telling her about her pregnancy? At least until I come back and I can tell her myself. I tried to take the day off today, but I have to deal with the company first so I can be here when she’s discharged.” Yoongi explained.

The doctor looked nervous at first, but thought about it for a while.

“Yes, I think that might be for the best. Waking up in an unfamiliar place with no memories of the past four years can be very overwhelming so it might be easier to ease her into the news. Thank you Mr. Min, we’ll call you when there’s news.” The doctor says before holding his hand out for a handshake.

Yoongi let out a small smile as he shook the doctor’s hand.

“Yes, please let me know if anything happens and if her situation changes. I’ll be back tomorrow to drop off a new cellphone for her so it’s easier to contact people. I’ll see you then, doc. Thank you so much for your hard work.” Yoongi couldn’t help but praise him for being such a helpful person during a difficult time for both him and you.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Min. It makes me happy to see how devoted you are in taking care of your wife and future child.” The doctor smiles at him and pats his shoulder roughly before he walks away whistling.

Yoongi only stared at his back as he walked away from him. Devotion. That wasn’t something he was used to.

☽

He’d gone home that night and contemplated the strange encounter that you both had today. The initial shock he received when realizing that you couldn’t recognize him, worse yet remember him, was swept away quickly by your questions about your relationship with him. As the night ended and he tucked himself into his bed, he couldn’t stop thinking about your conversation today.

It was the most civil conversation you’ve had since before the divorce. It was basically the only conversation you’ve had since the divorce. The more he thought about it, the more he zoned out of the reality in front of it. He thought about your teasing smile when you asked if he fell in love with you at first sight. He thought about your laugh, like bells, when he corrected you and said it was love at first laugh. It was like the fates turned back time to when you two first met. It was like he was seeing you for the first time again.

The you from today was such a stark contrast from the you that Yoongi had lived with in the months leading up to your divorce. Being reminded of what you were like back then and comparing it to the person you turned into after 4 years together made his heart beat faster. He didn’t know what it was but thinking about how you changed, how you grew, made him nervous. These weren’t fluffy feelings of romance or admiration. It seemed to be more like fear. He looked down at his hands and realized that they were shaking. As the shaking continued, he noticed his breathing getting shorter and shorter. He didn’t know what was happening but having these thoughts made him feel so scared.

The tears escaped his eyes before he even realized he was crying. He had never experienced this before. His heart was beating so fast and he couldn’t stop shaking or crying but all he could focus on was your soft smile today and every time he saw it in his head, it crumbled into the 23 year old you who sobbed into her hands in front of him. He just kept thinking and thinking and thinking and it made him cry into his palms more and more. Behind his closed eyes were images of the two of you through the years and the way you had changed from a beautiful, happy person who could probably make the sun and all the planets stop into a sad, quiet, reserved woman who preferred to stay at home and be alone with your paper and your words.

Did he do that? Did he do that to you? Did he make you that sad? Was it his fault that you pulled away from him? Was it his fault that you two fell apart as catastrophically as you fell in love? Was he the reason for your accident?

No, no, no, no. He cried and cried and couldn’t breathe. I didn’t do that, I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t mean to do that. I loved you. I loved you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

At the same time, you woke up in your hospital bed, shocked by a nightmare that eventually dulled and became forgotten as soon as you woke. You felt like there was something important that the dream told you, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Instead of trying to remember, you looked up at the ceiling of your hospital room and contemplated on your strange encounter with your so-called ex-husband today. Mentions of the divorce were vague, so you didn’t focus on it much. He told you a love story that you wouldn’t have believed if you hadn’t lost your memories. You smiled as you remembered that way he told you he fell in love at first laugh. There was a twinkle in his eye when he said that, but you still noticed a twinge of sadness and regret behind it all.

“For your information, it was at first laugh.”

You closed your eyes and tried so hard to remember anything, just the smallest thing, to confirm whatever Yoongi had told you, but nothing came to you except for a barrage of tears that was so sudden it shocked you. You tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t. You tried to laugh but it only ended in broken sobs. There was a hurt in your chest that you couldn’t precisely describe. It was sharp, and it hurt your heart, like it was breaking little by little. It wasn’t happiness. Not at all. It felt like a sadness that you hadn’t ever felt before (or at least your 19 year old self), but you couldn’t possibly remember why you felt like this. The tears kept coming and coming and it frustrated you so much that you didn’t know why you were crying like this. You just wanted to remember something about your marriage, your relationship, and Min Yoongi. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling like this.

Of course, though the memory is lost, the hurt and sorrow that your heart had gone through couldn’t be forgotten. At least not by your body. It was a sadness so deep in your bones that not even the loss of the memories associated with this hurt could erase it.

☽

← masterlist →

taglist 1: @victoriedulce @yoongistruth @rebeccawoodrow @moon-asia @koochiekoo @sonderkook @fangirling-gallifreyan @teresaisla @veronawrites @haeilove @rjsmochii @mama-m0chi @agustd-2020 @imluckybitches @dreamer95 @coldfreakeggsexpert @rjsmochii @loveyoongles @selfproducingfanfictionauthor @mr-robot-x

377 notes · View notes

silverisbestboy · 4 years ago

Text

Sonic Boom x Reader

Requested by @blackace1993: Conversation was accidentally deleted but from what I remeber of it, they wanted hc for the Sonic Boom characters who has a partner who frequently gets into trouble and/or captured by Eggman. They didn't specify which character they wanted so I just did all of them minus Tails. Hope you enjoy!

Sonic:

There's no denying it

Sonic was smitten

The moment you set foot on the island Sonic was taken aback by you

To him, you were drop dead gorgeous with a great personality so I guess you could say it was love at first sight for him

This boy is a fool for you

It's actually quite funny watching him zip across the island at the slightest remark that you need something

"Man, you what? I'm feeling kind of hungry"

"Say no more!" He'll say as he zooms away and reappears seconds later with a chili dog in hand

"Uhhhh"

But, unfortunately for you, being in any sort of relationship with Sonic is not wothout complication

Eggman sees you as a new oppurtunity to best Sonic and ends up taking you hostage on a regular basis

The first time it happens, Sonic all but destroys Eggman's fortress looking for you

But after it continuously happening, it starts getting kinda old

"Greeting Sonic! I see you've come to rescue your little girlfriend"

"Yeah, yeah. Can we just we just get to the part where I clobber you?"

It gets to the point where Sonic starts teaching you how to defend yourself so you can hold your own against Eggman

Not that he doesn't mind rescuing, it's just he can't always be there to protect

With the amount of times they've had to save you, the team are already very familiar with you and consider you apart of their friend group

But as you get better is self-defence, Sonic officially announces you as part of the team and you start joining them on missions

While Sonic does tend to stick to your side more than his other teammates during battle, he's glad to have you fighting alongside them

After all, he's happy to spend as much time with you as possible, even if that means having to bash Eggman's robots to do so

Knuckles:

You're not a bad person

So what if you have anger issues

So what if you get into fights from time to time

So what if you've been in trouble with the cops before

Doesn't mean you're a bad person, it just means you've.... got some issues

One day you're not in the best mood and have already had a pretty shitty day, and you're just a ticking time bomb waiting to explode

So it's no wonder that when a big guy bumps into you and causes you to drop the tray of food you're holding, you go off on him

Unfortunately for you, this guy is huge, a tall red echidna with bulking arms that looks like he could punch you into next week

But you're not one to back down from a fight, you've beaten up guys twice your size before and you're not afraid to do it again

"Woah, hey, sorry about that, didn't see you there."

What, is he dense?! Who does this guy think he is barrelling into anyone he pleases just because he's big? You bet he was just gonna walk off without even helping you. Well, you'd show him!

Without warning, you lunged at the echidna with the intent of knocking him over the same way he almost did to you

But you underestimated his initial strength and reflexes and he caught you midair with your legs kicking and your hands clawing for his face

"Woah, dude chill! I said I was sorry!"

He just kinda holds you up in air at arms length with you kicking and screaming until you eventually tire yourself out

The echidna stares at you cautiously

"Are you good now?"

After a moment, you reluctantly nod, and he gently sets you back on your feet

He then carefully leans down without takong his eyes off you and grabs your burger which is still wrapped in foil and reaches it out to you

"How about we start over? I'm Knuckles."

You thought after that encounter, that was the last you'd see of him

But one day, you've gotten yourself into another fight, and to say you're losing would be an understatement

It's once again, a guy twice your size and he's absolutely beating the crap out of you

But by some miracle, Knuckles happens to be walking by and immediately notices you

He steps in to save you, and the guy you're fighting knows about Knuckles being part of Sonic's team and doesn't even bother attempting to fight him

Knuckles takes your half conscious body to Tails's work shop where they fix you up

After that, Knuckles refuses to leave you alone

Even if you try to leave, he always ends finding you to make sure you don't get into more trouble

He helps you find outlets for your anger by sparring and working out with him

You grow a soft spot for Knuckles that you'd never thought you'd have for anyone

He's your big goofball that somehow always manages to calm you down and get you out of whatever trouble your in

Though it's beyond you why anyone would want to put up with you, eespecially a lovable ray of sunshine like Knuckles, you're so grateful that you have someone like himin your life to keep you in check

A/N: Might make more hcs for that because I absolutely love the idea of big, strong goofball Knuckles having a little ball of pure rage as a partner.

Amy Rose:

Some would say you're a pacifist

Some would say you care too much

Some would say you're too nice

But you like to think that you're just trying to do good in the world

You're definitely the type of person that hates conflict and wants everyone to get along, and you're more often than not a bit of a pushover

You like to give people benefit of the doubt and prefer to see the good in people, although sometimes, this affects you negatively

A kindly looking (or at least in your opinion) wolf with a showman's top hat and a certain glint his eyes one day stops you in your tracks and asks you ever so politely if you would kindly lend him some money to help feed his family

Of course, you're quick to help, but little do you know that this is none other than T.W. Barker himself, and he's been watching you carefully for some time

He notices the way you jump at the oppurtunity to help someone in need, and he being a con man at heart, decides to take advantage of that

But before you can lend the man all the money you have in your pocket, a certain pink hedgehog decides to interfere

"Hey, you leave her alone Barker! Go find your own ATM machine!"

Amy Rose herself stands not far behind you, hammer in hand and ready for trouble

"N-now, now, let's not be too hasty. I was simply accepting a generous donation from this unsuspecting-- I mean self-less young lady."

"Yeah right. Beat it before I hammer you into next Tuesday, punk!"

You're in utter shock as the seeming wolf in sheep's clothing (pun intended) makes his escape

"Gotta look out for scumbags. Seems this village is getting more and more of them everyday. Anyways, I'm Amy, what's your name?"

Since then, Amy keeps a close eye on you to make sure you don't become prey to anymore scam artists

Now Amy will never admit she has anger issues, but she does get... irritated from time to time

On more than one occasion, you're there to help her calm down and have a sleepover planned or a spa day for when things get particularly rough for her

Whenever she needs help choosing which paint to redo her wall with, or which dress she should wear to a party, she calls you up, because no matter what you're interests are or how inconvenient the timing might seem, you're ready to help a friend, even with mundane things

Amy has you become a part of the Sonic family, and while you never do join them in battles, you help keep the peace between the team whenever there's an argument

And Amy always makes sure your overly caring attitude isn't being taken advantage of

No matter the time or the place, Amy knows she can always count on you, and you know she's always got your back

Sticks:

Well this is quite the predicament you've gotten yourself into

A lot of people would descibe you as clumsy, but you knew you just bad luck

And to prove just that, here you were dangling upside from a rope trap after deciding to take a liesure stroll through the forest

What are we, nomads? Who sets out traps in the middle of the woods anymore?!

After about 20 minutes, the blood is rushing to your head and you're starting to feel faint

But just as you think that your bad luck will finally be the end of you, figure bursts from the bushes with a fierce battle cry

It's a badger girl with a boomerang clutched in her paw, ready for a fight

But after a moment she realizes just who's gotten caught up in her trap

"Hey, what's the big idea?! Why're you in my snare?"

"Why am I in your snare? Why did you put out a snare you loon?!"

After about 5 minutes of arguing, Sticks reluctantly cuts you down, begrudgingly explaining that she set out a trap for any woodland monsters

You run into her again on another walk, crossing a small stream before tripping on one of the stepping stones and almost falling in before a furry arm wraps around your waist

"You outta be more careful out here. The wilderness is no place to be a klutz."

"Hey, I'm not a klutz. I just have bad luck is all."

And what more to gain the attention of a superstitious badger than the possibility of supernatural forces at play

"You could've been hexed by a witch. Or worse, there could be a vengeful spirit after you! We gotta get you an exorcist!"

"I'm fine, I'm just unlucky. Always have been always will be."

"We should still burn some sage in your home just to be sure."

You let Sticks do what she wants with you, after all, her superstitious perspective is a nice change from everyone just thinking your clumsy

You think her attempts to "cleanse" you are endearing, she tries something new everyday, and you end up learning a thing or two about survival and the corruptedness of politics from her

Weeks later, her attempts slowly dwindle down, and she just comes to accept she's just gonna have to keep an extra close eye on you, especially when she sets out booby traps

The time y'all have spent together, although it was somewhat motivated by Sticks not wanting to get whatever curse you exposed her to, lead to y'all having a close bond

Everyone has their quirks, she's paranoid and you're clumsy, but you two always manage to work things out

And that's the beauty of a relationship

A/N: Sorry I haven't been that active lately, so take this as an apology. Four hcs for the price of one!

#sonic headcanons #sonic the hedgehog x reader #sonic x reader #sonic boom #amy rose x reader #sticks the badger x reader #knuckles the echidna x reader

581 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

Intro

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Lee Minho (SKZ)

Warnings: Angst and Fluff

Genre: Family AU; Haven Prequel (thus the title)

Word Count: 3K

Summary: It was nerve-wracking sometimes - keeping her new relationship with Minho a secret from the others. But Y/N also has bigger problems on her mind, like why Seungmin seems determined to ruin her life.

It was warm outside with the promise of summer interrupting the long weeks of mild temperatures and cool wind. But I loved when the weather felt like this - full of potential that would carry through the weeks leading to summertime. Because there was nothing better than that prospect - escaping school for a few months while I relaxed inside the house with everyone else.

When I was younger and still inexperienced, I might’ve enjoyed reading in the basement with Jeongin because he liked the sound of my voice. But that was a long time ago, and I had recently developed another preference. And he was 172 centimetres of imposing height and stature - spending most of his waking hours working at the warehouse before returning home in the evenings to relax with the rest of his family.

At first, I tried to keep my feelings a secret from him - following Minho around the house or helping him outside. But I must’ve been too obvious, especially when he confronted me about my sudden interest. It was probably around the same time when I realized that one of hugs was far more arousing than it should’ve been.

Thankfully, Minho reciprocated my admiration, and we both agreed to try out a relationship. But one that we kept to ourselves because the rest of our family might prove to be an unanticipated obstacle. I trembled just thinking about the idea of Chan finding out that Minho often snuck into my room at night to sleep with me while we tried to keep silent. Because there was no way that he would understand, and I was afraid that Chan would try to separate us before we could truly explore our feelings.

But I guess we were really good at keeping things private, and it was probably for the best. In the meantime, I could prosper under Minho’s affection, and it was kinda nice to keep him to myself without anyone else’s intervention. It almost felt like we were lost in our own little world - enjoying the honeymoon phase of our romance.

I smiled just thinking about it, even though I was still in the middle of my class, and I was startled out of my thoughts by the sound of the dismissal bell. “Good work, everyone,” our teacher said as I collected my books together - listening to my classmates wish one another a great summer vacation. I offered several of them a courteous smile on the way out the door since they were nice, but I was far more excited to see Minho again.

And I could already feel the tension start to lessen when I located Jeongin standing next to his locker. “Hey,” I said, knocking my shoulder against his own. “Are you ready?”

“Y/N, I’m sleeping for the entire summer,” Jeongin said. “It sucks to wake up early.”

I smiled at him while patting his shoulder. “We can take a nap together when we get home.”

Jeongin brightened at the suggestion before glancing at someone over my shoulder. “Seungmin!”

I hesitated at the mention of Seungmin, even as I glanced at him from my peripheral with a murmured greeting. “Felix is waiting outside,” Seungmin offered as a response when he started walking in pace with us.

“Felix is picking us up?” I questioned, and my mood instantly deflated because Minho had promised to bring us home after school.

“Yeah?” Seungmin scoffed. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing,” I muttered, following behind Jeongin and Seungmin as we walked outside.

Sure enough, Felix was waiting in the parking lot next to Chan’s car with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans. “Head count,” he announced before making a show of looking around.

“That will never be funny, Felix,” Seungmin said, and I wondered if he was having another one of his infamous bad days.

Felix shrugged indifferently because he had an amazing ability to remain perfectly nonchalant. “Let’s go home.”

“Can we stop by the store to get a snack?” Jeongin asked, climbing into the backseat next to me while Seungmin sat up front.

“Sure,” Felix said - agreeable as always when he started backing out of the parking spot.

“Hey, Felix,” I said, running my hands against my thighs. “Did Minho have to work?”

“He was called back in,” Felix replied, and I couldn’t help the way I sighed upon hearing this unfortunate news.

“Why are you so worried about him?” Seungmin asked before glaring at me in the rearview mirror.

“I’m not,” I insisted while crossing my arms over my chest.

Screw Seungmin and his stupid attitude problem!

“I wish Chan would just let you two wrestle your problems out,” Jeongin commented.

“Like she could beat me,” Seungmin said.

“I’d just substitute somebody in to fight for me,” I retorted.

“I’ve got dibs on Changbin!” Seungmin shouted.

“No way!” I exclaimed. “Changbin would fight for me!”

“I’d go for Chan,” Jeongin contributed as if he was somehow involved in our conversation. “I think he could take Changbin.”

“Whatever,” Seungmin huffed, slinking down lower in his seat. “Can’t you go any faster, Felix?”

“The speed limit is 45,” Felix said, and I glanced at the speedometer to confirm that, yes, Felix wasn’t budging over the limit.

“He’s doing fine,” I said - just to spite Seungmin because it was way too easy to rile him up.

But it was the unique dynamic that we shared - a strange coldness reserved for one another ever since I could remember. And no matter how many times Chan sat us down together in the kitchen for one of his infamous “interventions,” we still always argued over trivial things.

“That’s wise of you, Y/N,” Jeongin remarked. “If you’re nice to the others, then you’ll have more allies in your war against Seungmin.”

Seungmin growled from the front seat, and I smiled with a renewed sense of satisfaction.

By the time we returned home, I was practically sitting on the edge of my seat as I surveyed the driveway for any sign of Minho’s car. But I found myself disappointed yet again - resigning myself to a boring afternoon until he returned home. Meanwhile, I noticed that Changbin was working at the bushes lining our front porch, and his skin was practically burning from his time under the skin.

“Put on some sunscreen,” I suggested to him as I passed on my way inside.

Changbin glared at me playfully. “Do I not get a hug?”

“Maybe later,” I replied, laughing at the pout on his face.

It was far too hot for me to be outside, and I entered the kitchen with a sigh of relief as I grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. I also spotted Chan looking over some documents on the table - shifting through the pile with a concentrated expression.

“What are you doing?” I asked while trying to peer over his shoulder.

Chan didn’t respond at first - humming to himself before meeting my gaze. “Will you help me out?” he asked.

“Of course,” I said, dropping my bag near the table.

“I need you to clean up the kitchen,” Chan said. “I have to help Changbin in the yard.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” I said, smiling when Chan ruffled my hair on his way outside.

I was actually grateful for the distraction, especially since I didn’t have anything else planned. “But what about our nap?” Jeongin whined, and I watched him sit down on top of the counter.

“Maybe Seungmin will give you some company?” I suggested - making my way over to the sink to run some warm water for the dishes.

“He’s moody,” Jeongin replied, and I snorted around a laugh.

“You could always help me.”

Jeongin shrugged while he considered my proposal. “Okay, but I’m not touching the trash.”

“Fair,” I agreed, and we exchanged places at the kitchen sink so that Jeongin could clean the dishes while I took care of everything else.

It wasn’t really meant to be that much work, and I had almost finished when I noticed Seungmin walk into the kitchen. “Must be nice to be Chan’s favorite,” Seungmin said. “He’s making me wash the cars.”

“The water might feel good,” I said, even though there was a slight part of me that was laughing at Seungmin’s predicament.

“Yeah, whatever,” Seungmin muttered, and he pushed me aside as he opened the fridge. “At least get out of the way!”

I frowned as I looked around to ensure the kitchen was presentable. “Fine, have it to yourself,” I snapped at Seungmin, ignoring his glare on me as I stormed down into the basement with Jeongin hot on my heels.

It was too quiet for the remainder of the afternoon, and I had been sleeping next to Jeongin in his bed when everything fell apart around me.

At first, I was paralyzed by the remnants of sleep, and I was blinking my eyes repeatedly when I realized that Chan was calling my name: “Y/N!”

I startled awake from my nap at the sound of Chan’s voice, noticing that Jeongin was groaning from next to me. “You don’t have to get up,” I told him and he simply grunted in response.

I was careful when I rolled out of bed, trudging upstairs because I wasn’t sure why Chan needed me. But when I walked into the kitchen, my mind instantly went blank when I realized that it was a complete wreck - like I hadn’t just spent half an hour cleaning. “Y/N,” Chan said, giving me a very stern look that I usually never experienced. “Can you explain to me why the kitchen was never cleaned?”

“Channie,” I started, but there really wasn’t a rational explanation, until Seungmin made his presence known as he smirked in my direction.

“I never ask you to do much, Y/N,” Chan said, and he seemed far more disappointed than angry, which was honestly worse. “I hope you’re not planning to be this lazy all summer.”

I could feel my heart breaking at Chan’s cruel words because I knew that they were misdirected, but the evidence was against me. Instead, I quietly murmured an apology and promised to clean everything while Chan groaned in response and messed around in the cabinets for an Advil. “Please listen to me from now on,” Chan said before leaving me alone with Seungmin.

“Why would you do that?” I asked him - getting straight to the point.

“Like you didn’t deserve it,” Seungmin snapped, and his tone was harsh.

“Can you just leave me alone?” I sighed, and he had the decency to give me enough space to re-do everything once again.

It was still a tedious process - scrubbing down the counters and re-washing the dishes. But this time I didn’t even have Jeongin’s assistance, and I couldn’t help but wonder how Seungmin even managed to make such a mess out of the kitchen. Did he not care at all about my feelings?

I was close to a breakdown, and it was the condition Minho found me in when he came home. “Y/N,” he cooed until he realized that I wasn’t returning his enthusiasm, and his smile disappeared when he saw me. “Y/N,” he said with a careful tone. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, tossing aside a wayward dish rag before slumping down at the table. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Minho said, but it wasn’t accusing; instead, it was a gentle observation - a reminder that I didn’t need to lie to him about these things.

“Maybe it’s hard to talk about,” I said, and Minho sighed.

“Come upstairs with me,” he requested, and I allowed him to support my weight as he once again acted like my silent guardian.

There was nothing better than the feeling of Minho’s arms as he kept me close next to him in bed. It was warm and comfortable - allowing him to run his fingers through my hair while I breathed in the faint scent of his cologne. It had long wore off since he came home from work, but I could still find it on the collar of his shirt with every deep inhale.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” Minho asked, and I squirmed next to him.

“Seungmin and I had another fight, I guess,” I replied.

“That’s nothing new with the two of you,” Minho remarked. “I know Chan’s already said something, but what’s keeping you both from getting along?”

“We weren’t always like this,” I said - remembering all the special moments that I had once shared with Seungmin. For example, there was one in particular that stood out to me, and it had occurred only a few months after I first moved in:

Seungmin and I were still learning about each other because we had become roommates in the blink of an eye, and I could tell that we were both still reserved around one another. But I also sensed a mutual desire to open up and talk about our lives, and we developed this interesting ritual where we would talk every night before bed and share our most intimate secrets.

“What’s something that you’re embarrassed about?” Seungmin asked, and I looked over at where he was laying across his bed.

I thought long and hard about his question before allowing the first thing that popped inside my head to speak for me: “I’ve never been kissed before,” I revealed to Seungmin.

When I met his gaze from across the room, my new roommate’s eyes visibly widened upon hearing my confession. “Oh...”

I smiled at him. “It’s okay, though, I guess I have to be patient.”

“Not necessarily,” Seungmin quickly interjected. “Uh, I mean, I could always help you out.”

“What do you mean?”

Seungmin quietly scrambled off his bed, tripping over the sheets, and he was sitting next to me in a flash. “I can be your first kiss,” Seungmin said, and his chest was heaving from his previous efforts.

“Are you sure?” I asked while moving into a better sitting position.

“Yeah,” Seungmin said with his best puppy-dog eyes. “I want it, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes and puckering my lips - waiting for him to make the first move.

And the simple slide of his lips across mine sent a shiver down my spine. But I held myself in place - allowing him to move his lips against mine as he gently held my face between his hands. It was nothing outrageous, and I found a delicate peace in the simple act.

It was nice - both warm and familiar, and I had never felt closer to Seungmin. Yet, when I offered him a new secret during one unforgettable night a few years later, those moments between us eventually stopped:

“Seungmin,” I said, finding myself smiling before I could even get my words together. “I think I really like Minho.”

It felt nice to finally come clean about the confession, but there was a strange silence from the other side of the room.

“Seungmin?” I questioned my roommate, but he never answered, and I simply assumed that he had gone to sleep.

However, in the present, my brain quickly put the pieces together, and I felt an unmeasurable guilt weigh heavy on my consciousness. “You couldn’t have known, Y/N,” Minho said - offering me one of his familiar kisses instead.

“It’s my fault that he hates me,” I said, and I could feel myself on the verge of tears before Minho quickly pulled me away from the edge.

“It’s not,” he told me sternly. “Seungmin made that decision for himself, and he’s the one who allowed that to come between you both.”

I shook my head as I buried myself into Minho’s chest. “I feel really bad.”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Why don’t you get some sleep? We can talk about it again in the morning.”

I nodded my agreement before closing my eyes, and I found myself dreaming about the past.

It was quiet when I felt Minho whisper my name. Despite the grogginess of sleep, I craned my head to the side to see him. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Minho said. “I don’t have to be at work for another hour.”

“It’s early, then,” I noted, turning over onto my other side because it allowed me to burrow closer to Minho.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“I’m better,” I replied, and I met his expectant gaze. “Do I have to keep talking about it?”

“Of course not,” Minho said, and he encouraged me to lay back down. “If you’re not comfortable, then you should never force yourself.”

“But it makes me sad sometimes,” I said. “I don’t think Seungmin likes me anymore.”

“You’d have to ask him that yourself,” Minho said, but I dreaded the prospect of such a conversation.

“No thanks,” I grumbled. “I’ll just suffer alone.”

“Look at me,” Minho instructed me softly, and I obeyed with only some hesitation because there was nothing more reassuring than the affectionate gleam in Minho’s familiar eyes. “You’re never alone, Y/N.”

He was serious - I could tell by his tone and the manner in which he forced our eye contact. “I didn’t mean to say that,” I told him. “I know that I’ll always have you.”

“That’s right,” Minho said, and he gave me a proud smile. “Whatever we have between us - I hope it’s the deepest bond you could ever imagine. Because I’m never going away, Y/N.”

I closed my eyes when I felt another soothing kiss across my lips. “I like you a lot,” I said, without really thinking.

But Minho just laughed, and there was something safe about him. “I like you too,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper - like his next words were only meant for us to share: “More than you could ever know.”

I grinned and reached for his hand. Because if Minho liked me even half as much as I liked him, then there was nothing that could stop us.

It was our special relationship as long as we remained together.

#stayverse #skzwriternet #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz oneshots #stray kids fanfic #stray kids minho #skz minho #stray kids lee know #skz lee know #lee know fanfic #lee know fluff #skz lee know fluff #stray kids minho fanfic #mostlycompetent

94 notes · View notes

crimson-ace · 3 years ago

Text

Basewarming Party

Archive of Our Own Link

It’s been a few months, but here’s another Miraculous Transformers AU story! This time with some backstory.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino were leaving school when they saw three familiar vehicles nearby.

Nino ran over to the green dump truck and got in, planning to play some new songs for Stoneheart.

Alya headed over to the yellow sports car and groaned as Queen Bee told her to not mess up anything inside her.

Adrien got on the red motorcycle and smiled when Ladybug asked how his day was.

The three headed off and separated for a little bit to not draw suspicion as they soon met up on an empty road.

“So we spent the last solar cycle setting up an area of the base for you.” Ladybug explained to Adrien while they drove. “It’s normally used for human liaisons to present top-secret information when they need our help, but Pegasus thinks we did an okay job setting it up.”

Ladybug, Queen Bee, and Stoneheart soon made it to a road in Fontainebleau Forest and drove to a secret area that led to the location of the Autobot base. After giving their security codes, the three Autobots drove into the base and let the humans out, immediately transforming to their robot modes.

They noticed there was a banner hung up near one of the base’s computers that depicted the faces of Adrien, Alya, and Nino, as well as the Autobot insignia, with something written in an incomprehensible language.

“Uh...what does that say?” Nino asked.

Stoneheart tapped Ladybug’s shoulder lightly. “Ladybug...” He pointed to the banner, causing Ladybug’s optics to widen.

“Oh, scrap!” Ladybug hit her own head in frustration. “I forgot to write that in your language, not mine! Sorry!” She replied. “I meant to write ‘Welcome, Humans!’.”

“You made this?” Adrien was impressed with the level of detail in the banner.

Ladybug nodded. “Uh, yeah. I used to be an artist back on Cybertron. It was more of a hobby I picked up while I was in the Autobot academy. Why don’t you check out what we set up for you?” She added, realizing she was rambling on, and pointed to a staircase for the humans to walk up.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino walked up the stairs and were surprised by what they saw.

There was a couch set up in front of a small television which looked like a model from the mid to late 2000’s, and in between those was a “table” made from a board of wood on top of four cinderblocks. There was also a minifridge nearby, though most of the Autobots didn’t know what the humans ate, and planned to ask them later before getting snacks.

“So? What do you think?” Stoneheart asked as he walked over to the area and looked over them.

“Dude, this place looks awesome!” Nino chimed. “You guys did a great job!”

“I still think we should have put a cage here.” Queen Bee snarked, earning a glare from her fellow Autobots.

“So. what do you guys want to do now?” Alya asked the others.

“Well, earlier today, Stoneheart asked me about what Earth’s greatest warriors are like, so...” Nino took out a Blu-ray player and a container of the original Star Wars trilogy in the same format. “I said I would introduce him to Luke Skywalker.”

So the three humans sat down on the couch with Ladybug, Queen Bee, and Stoneheart sat down behind them to watch the movie. Even though they asked if this was based on Earth’s actual history, the Autobots were surprisingly invested in the film. When Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed by Darth Vader, Stoneheart cried out in despair, surprising everyone.

Apparently, the noise was enough for Pegasus to walk down, wondering why everyone was being so loud. “Can you all please keep all that noise down? I’m busy performing system diagnostics here.”

“Okay, C-3PO, we’ll be quiet.” Ladybug snickered as soon as she finished the sentence. “Did I say it right?” She asked Adrien, who nodded with approval.

Pegasus let out a sigh of frustration at the commotion. “I wasn’t built for this…” He grumbled. “What exactly are you doing anyway?”

“We’re learning about Earth history, obviously.” Queen Bee smirked. “Optimus said we need to familiarize ourselves with the planet.”

Pegasus scoffed. “We came here for a reason other than to watch human entertainment, Queen Bee.”

“Hey, why exactly are you here anyway?” Adrien asked. “I know you guys fought a war over control of your home and its energon, but why did you come all the way to Earth for it?”

Queen Bee smirked. “Well, as Optimus Prime’s second-in-command...”

“You mean acting second-in-command” Pegasus added, earning a glare from the Autobot.

“I, uh... I can explain what happened and how we got here, provided you don’t tell anyone else...” Queen Bee started to explain

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

The civil war between Autobots and Decepticons had lasted for a very long time, so both sides were forced to abandon the planet Cybertron to find new sources of energy. For some reason, our ship’s scanners found your planet to have an a lot of raw energon. Like, we've never seen a planet with this much energon before.

Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones to find out...

"Hull breach on Decks 3 to 5! Shields are also damaged!” Ladybug cried out.

“We’re taking heavy fire, sir! We also just lost one of the thrusters!” Pegasus added.

While the Decepticons had a majority of their resources with them on their ship, which they called the Nemesis to show how friendly they were, it was only the five of us on a much smaller ship not nearly as armed as what the Decepticons had.

After another onslaught of fire from the Nemesis, a majority of our systems were knocked offline.

“Brace for impact!” Optimus ordered as our ship plummeted to Earth. It was a miracle we managed to survive.

We all came back online after about a few of your Earth hours and assessed the situation with our ship.

“Diagnostics say the ship is beyond repair with our current resources.” Pegasus said solemnly. “Some of the computers are still online, but we don’t have a lot of working parts right now.”

“So, now what? What can we do now?” Ladybug seemed to be the most nervous about our predicament. Then again, she had the least amount of experience out of all of us. (Hey!)

“We came to this planet in search of energon, but it seems we have an additional mission now: to protect it from the Decepticons.” Optimus stated. “Is the ship’s probe still online?" After checking the systems, Pegasus nodded, causing Optimus to walk over to one of the ship’s control panels. “Teletraan I, scan the area for local lifeforms. We will take on their appearances to blend in to avoid suspicion from the Decepticons.”

So the ship’s probe flew around for a little bit and not only came back with data on forms we could take, but also an image of an energon mining site the natives had set up.

“Carbon-based lifeforms?” I scoffed at the idea of these inferior lifeforms being able to harvest energon. “Do they even know what they stumbled upon?”

Pegasus continued to browse through the footage and gasped. “I’m detecting Decepticon signals converging near that area. They must have noticed the energon too.”

“Nevertheless, we must scan an alternate mode and try to obtain this energon in a discreet manner before the Decepticons. We must disguise ourselves as what these lifeforms view as vehicles.” Optimus declared as a mechanism on the ship popped up while we all browsed through ideas for possible alternate modes.

Ladybug saw something with two wheels and smiled “Ooh, that looks nice.” she said as the ship’s systems reformatted her so she was able to transform into that.

Stoneheart saw what looked like a green vehicle designed to carry heavy objects. “So is this supposed to be like one of Earth’s more powerful vehicles? Either way, I like it”. Soon, he was reformatted as well.

Pegasus saw a yellow and white vehicle with brown highlights and emergency lights, reminding him of the Rescue Bots on Cybertron. “This seems like a suitable form to take.” He was the next to be reformatted.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I couldn't really find anything like this in brown, but the motorcycle isn't spotted either, so just work with me, alright?)

Optimus chose a large red and blue vehicle with a trailer attached to it without saying anything as he was reformatted.

I on the other hand, had looked through the options for a form to take for a few nanoclicks. Naturally, a bot as beautiful as myself needed an appropriate form. Thankfully, I found something just as interesting, and one of the few good things about this planet. It was one of your Earth cars with a sleek design and yellow paintjob. I stood still as I eagerly waited for the machine to finish reformatting me.

“Remember, we must keep a low profile and only reveal ourselves unless absolutely necessary.” Optimus ordered. “For now… Autobots, transform and roll out!”

With that familiar command, we all transformed into our new vehicle modes (except Pegasus, who stayed to see if anything else on our ship was working) and left for the excavation site the humans had set up.

Granted, it took us a couple of run-ins with some other Earth vehicles to get the hang of this planet’s traffic laws, but we eventually made it to where the energon was. There was also a sign written in your language that said something like “GOPHER-MINT PROPERTY/NO TREE-PASSING”. In hindsight, we really should have familiarized ourselves with the language before we headed out.

It didn’t seem like the Decepticons had attacked yet, although we were in trouble with a different form of opposition.

“This is Officer Raincomprix! Step out of the vehicles right now! You have violated several traffic guidelines, and are now trespassing on government property.” Someone from your planet’s law enforcement had apparently been following us. The strange thing was that he had a human partner who looked much younger than he did, almost like she shared genetic qualities with the man. “I’m going to give you until the count of ten to get out of the vehicles. Wait… where are the drivers? WHY DO NONE OF THESE VEHICLES HAVE DRIVERS?!”

Before we could really say anything, a stray shot from the distance hit the ground, signaling the Decepticons were here. The officer ran back to his car and tried to drive away as the Decepticons made their way to the surface.

“So, Optimus Prime. I see you and your little band of Autobots managed to survive the trip to this planet.” That raspy voice taunting us belonged to only one Decepticon. The very same Cybertronian who started the Decepticon cause behind the civil war that had caused so much suffering across the galaxy for megacycles. The Emperor of Destruction and leader of the Decepticons, Megatron.

“I see you’re trying to maintain cover on this strange planet rather than simply harvesting all the energon the local life forms have managed to discover for us. Typical Autobot weakness.” Megatron smirked as he and his Vehicon troops opened fire on the mining site. “Take the energon, and see if these lifeforms found any more locations with it. If you find nothing, leave no survivors.” He gave that last order with a sadistic grin.

“What should we do?” Ladybug asked nervously.

“Even if it means exposing our cover, these organic lifeforms need help. Autobots, transform!” With that order, we all transformed into our robot modes and activated our weapons. “Autobots, make sure none of the local lifeforms are hurt. Now, split up!”

So we all scattered to engage the Vehicons. I armed my stingers and fired off electrical blasts at some of the Vehicon forces. Of course, the organics were afraid of a superior being like myself, so they ran away like cowards… or maybe that was because another Decepticon was right behind me.

“Reckless as usual, I see.” That stoic voice came from my Decepticon counterpart, the (actual, not acting) (shut up, Pegasus!) second in command of the Decepticons, Malediktator. I slowly turned around and saw he was armed with his signature weapon, a rocket launcher.

“Maybe, but at least I know I’m fighting for the right side.” I quipped as I aimed my stingers at Malediktator.

Malediktator began to open fire, shooting several heat-seeking rockets at me. I tried to blast some of them, but there were some rockets that still managed to hit their target. I was knocked to the ground and struggled to get up.

Malediktator was going to fire again, but he was hit in the head by Ladybug’s “weapon”, her yo-yo, causing Malediktator’s weapon to misfire. It was probably the only time she actually helped out in a fight before. (I’m standing right here, Queen Bee!)

One of the stray missiles went towards the human law enforcement and his genetic experiment in the distance, until Optimus ran over and covered the two, taking the hit in the process. I think they talked a little, but my auditory processors couldn’t pick up their conversation.

Ladybug and I kept fighting to disarm Malediktator, but even though it was two on one, he still managed to overwhelm us. We tried our best, but it was really hard to keep up with the second in command of the Decepticons. While we were fighting, I noticed Optimus fighting Megatron one on one, but it was hard to make out who was winning.

Malediktator knocked both me and Ladybug to the ground and took aim at us with his rocket launcher. He was about to open fire when we all heard a crash to the ground. We turned around and saw Megatron slowly getting up after presumably losing to Optimus.

“If you are to harm the humans, Megatron, know that I will do everything in my power to stop you.” Optimus said, raising his ion blaster and pointing it at Megatron.

Megatron simply laughed in response. “Very well. If you’re so determined to protect this pitiful race, I’ll let you have this victory. But be warned, the next time we meet, I won’t have such mercy.” He stated grimly as a ground bridge appeared behind him. “Malediktator! We’re leaving. You can scrap those two another time.” He said as he turned around and walked into the portal with the remaining Vehicons.

Malediktator lowered his weapon and nodded. “Yes, Lord Megatron.” He said before walking away into the ground bridge. I tried to blast him, but Optimus raised his arm, silently ordering everyone to stand down.

As soon as Malediktator entered the ground bridge, the portal closed.

We all got up and collected ourselves as the humans swarmed around us. Strangely, the law enforcement unit and his experiment were the closest to Optimus. It was like everyone was afraid of us except those two.

“Did you really mean what you said back there? That you’d protect us?” The law enforcement unit asked.

Optimus leaned down so he could look the human in whatever optics were for him. “Of course. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.”

The unit was amazed by how serious Optimus sounded. “Is there anything we can do to hel--what am I doing? W-Who’s the highest ranking officer here?” Another human ran up, calling himself a “Colonel”, or something along those lines. He said he would talk to his superior about what happened.

After a mega-cycle or two, some vehicles I assumed belonged to this planet’s government arrived. One man came out, who was referred to as the “Prime Minister”. I didn’t really see what made him a Prime and I certainly didn’t know Earth had their own Primes, but everyone still listened to him.

“So, from what I’ve heard you’re at war and have come to our planet.” The Minister said. “What exactly are these ‘Decepticons’ you’re fighting after?”

“They are after a powerful source of energy and the lifeblood of our kind, energon. Your planet seems to have an abundance of it for some reason.” Optimus explained.

“And your ship crashed so now you need a new base of operations?” The Minister asked, earning a nod from Optimus.

“That is all that I ask for.” Optimus replied. “You kind need not interfere in this war. Even depleted of their resources, the Decepticons could lay waste to your planet if you aggravate them enough.”

This made the Minister sigh. “We can have some of our best men work on helping you construct a new base. Other than that, we’ll try and let you fight this war as long as you keep it a secret. If things heat up, we inform the United Nations about these... Decepticons. We’ll also expect status reports from you to make sure things are okay.”

Optimus nodded and stuck out his hand. “Understood.” He extended it to shake the human’s hand, but because the human was so small, he could only shake Optimus’ finger.

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

“But yeah, after a few orbital cycles, the humans helped us set up this base in the forest, and we keep in contact with them through a liaison.” Queen Bee said, finishing her story.

“Wow...” Adrien was impressed by everything Queen Bee had told about their journey to Earth. “And you really can’t get back?”

“Not unless we fix our ship or create a working space bridge.” Pegasus sighed.

“Oh...” Adrien felt bad for all the Autobots. “I’m so sorry...”

“You have no need to apologize.” Everyone turned around to see Optimus Prime entering the room. “Although we were forced to abandon Cybertron, Earth is not a prison. We are more than willing to protect any world from the Decepticons.”

“R-Really?” Adrien asked, earning a nod from Optimus. “Are you sure we can’t do anything else to help you get used to the planet?”

“Can we, Optimus?” Ladybug got up and asked. “It’s a good learning experience.”

Queen Bee got up next to her. “Ladybug has a point. Learning about Earth culture can help us better understand these strange organic lifeforms”

Optimus took a few moments to think about it and smiled in response. “Very well. Maybe this can be the humans’ way of repaying us for protecting them.” He said, making them all cheer.

“This is so lit!” Nino cried out, which only confused Stoneheart.

“What does ‘lit’ mean?” Stoneheart asked.

Ladybug shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with lighting things on fire?”

“Maybe we can teach you all about memes first! That’ll be fun!” Alya suggested. “Ooh! Let’s teach them about Rickrolling!” She took out her phone and started to look something up.

Queen Bee rolled her optics. “This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to know about Earth culture.”

“And now you know how I fe--” Before Pegasus could finish his sarcastic comment, they were all interrupted by a song playing on Alya’s phone that all three humans were dancing to.

We’re no strangers to loooooooove~

You know the rules, and so do I!

“Welcome to Earth!” Alya and Nino cried out to the music while they kept dancing

Optimus sighed. He had a feeling he really should have put more consideration into letting the humans educate the Autobots.

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down!

Never gonna run around and desert you...

8 notes · View notes

nev3rfound · 5 years ago

Text

not just an apprentice : b.b

brief summary: over the years you’ve worked as an engineer for the avengers, you and bucky have become closer as friends, but there’s always been something unspoken between you both. and at this point, bucky is running out of excuses to come and spend time with you

word count: 2.6k requested: nope. i’ve not really written anything in a while, but i had this idea today and fell in love with the end result warnings: none that i’m aware of

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

masterlistin’

permanent taglist

“Hey, Y/n?” Glancing over your shoulder a small smile forms on your lips as he stands in the doorway, meekly holding part of his suit with his eyes avoiding yours.

Placing your tools down, you swivel in your chair and lean against your desk. “What’s up, Buck?” You question, raising an eyebrow as he walks in hesitantly before placing his arm cover onto the main work station.

“I erm, had some problems with the cover during training.” He tells you quietly, not wanting other techs to pick up on your conversation as they continue to work away, their backs turned to you both.

Leaning forward, you pick up the mechanical cover and place it onto your desk. Bucky watches as you take a seat, picking up your glasses as you squint.

As a force of habit, Bucky finds himself lost watching you. He notices how you tilt your head, pursing your lips as you pick at the fabric. You remain silent, oblivious to the growing smile forming on his usual stern expression.

When you first joined Starks team, Bucky was nervous. He never warmed to newcomers, even if they weren’t part of the core team. You worked in the science and engineering behind their uniforms and weaponry.

You were a lot brighter than the others before you. Unlike previous employees who made no effort to engage with the Avengers, you spent the time to get to know the people behind the uniforms you helped fix. That’s what Tony saw in you back when you were an apprentice, just a newcomer wanting to do more.

Whilst you were just an apprentice you worked longer hours, stayed later than required and often found that Bucky didn’t sleep much. He wandered the compound in the midst of the night only to notice a light still on in the tech department. And that’s when he first noticed you.

Tucked away with a lamp on as you worked on a circuit. You wore headphones as you tapped your foot on the floor, oblivious to company hovering nearby. But somehow you noticed and invited him in.

Since then, you two got closer. Years have passed by, but there was always something unspoken between you both.

“How’d this happen, then?” You speak up, lifting your glasses and pushing them on top of your head, forcing your hair back.

Bucky tries to hide his smile, knowing it was another dumb thing that happened. “You want the true version of events or somethin’ that sounds dangerous?” He questions, watching as you softly laugh before turning your body to face him, crossing one leg over the other.

“I’ll take the true version today, Buck.” You ask him, watching as he exhales loudly before taking a chair and sitting alongside you.

“Well,” He starts and leans forward, a sign you know that this isn’t just an accident like other times. “I was training with Sam, and he just threw himself at my arm. Tore the cuff and it short-circuited.” Bucky lifts his sleeve, motioning to the plates on his wrist that are sticking out as opposed to tucked in like they should be.

“Damn.” You lean closer, your knees touching his as you rest your hands on his metal arm. “Sam’s got force I’ll give him that.” You softly laugh, looking up to see a tint crossing Bucky’s cheeks before you move away and clear your throat. “Okay, I’ll repair the arm cover for you, fix that hole.” You lift up the fabric of the cover, poking your finger through the hole caused by the metal plates of his arm. “And then come in tomorrow and I’ll sort your arm out?”

Bucky nods in response as he rises to his feet. “Knew I could rely on you, Y/L/N.” He salutes you, forgetting everyone else was in the room as he walks out, leaving you smiling like an idiot.

It had been just over a week since you had last fixed something for Bucky, and you were busy working away with Peter on his newest webbing.

Once more, you were stuck in another predicament - quite literally in this case.

“I just feel like it’s too sticky.” Peter tries his best to explain as your hand remains webbed to the main work station in your office. “Is there some kinda remover in here somewhere?” He questions whilst pacing around, looking in drawers whilst everyone is off on lunch.

Bucky whistles to himself, finding he’s wandered into the tech building once more without realising it.

“Try that drawer,” Bucky’s ears perk up at the sound of your voice and he turns the corner, seeing you with your arm extended as you try to reach your desk from the main table. “no, that drawer, Peter.” You huff loudly and Bucky leans against the doorframe, seeing the kid rummaging through drawers with a sense of urgency.

“Have I come at a bad time?” Bucky speaks up, and you look up with wide eyes.

Peter hits his head on someone's desk as he rises to his feet, holding the solution in his hand. “Oh hi, Mr Barnes.” He nervously mutters as he walks over to your side, squirting the solution on your hand whilst your other rests on your hip.

“I’ve told you, kid.” Bucky holds a hand up and Peter knowingly nods, watching as you lift your hand up and stretch your fingers.

“Thank god for that.” You let out a small laugh as Peter smiles to you. “Okay, how about we reduce the elasticity by 5%, and reevaluate once I’ve got the components sorted?” You suggest to Peter who nods, excitement crossing his face as he places the solution on the table.

“Sounds great, thanks Y/n!” He tells you before walking out of your office, leaving you and Bucky alone. “Bye Mr Barnes, I mean, Bucky.” Peter adds, quietly swearing to himself as he turns the corner.

Taking a seat at your station you run your fingers through your hair. “Bad time?” Bucky steps forward, watching as you lower your now cold mug of coffee from your lips as you shake your head.

“Not at all,” You tell him, trying to hide your tiredness. “what’s up?”

Sadly, Bucky knows you well enough by now to notice when you’re overworking yourself. “Nothing, it can wait.” He states and you shake your head, knowing what he’s going to suggest based on how he’s lifting his hands up.

“No, no, Bucky I’m fine.” You try to tell him, but it’s no use as he’s taking a hold of your hand, guiding you into your private office where you have a small sofa. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night, I’ve got too much to do to nap.” You protest as Bucky takes a blanket from underneath the sofa, motioning for you to lie down.

“Y/n, we both know you’ve not gone home until after midnight for the past week.” Bucky reminds you and he watches as you lower your head in defeat and kick your boots off.

“Alright, fine.” You mutter, lying down on the small sofa as you pull the blanket up over your body. “Just, just don’t let me sleep longer than an hour alright?”

Bucky nods. “I’ll be back in an hour.” He smiles to you as he pulls your blinds down, blocking out the bright sun reflecting from the Avengers tower. “Sleep tight, Y/n.” He whispers, watching you drift off almost instantly as he quietly closes the door behind him.

Walking with difficulty, you try your best to look over the tower of folders in your arms as you make your way into the lab.

As you walk you hear footsteps approaching quickly and a series of folders are lifted from your arms, allowing you to see ahead of you and who has taken some of your load.

Unsurprisingly, it’s Bucky.

“What’re you doing down here?” You chuckle, seeing him smirk as you blow loose strands of hair from your face as you turn the corner into the lab.

“Why has there gotta be a reason?” Bucky responds with another question, catching you off guard as you place the folders on the counter, noticing your colleagues turning their heads.

You lean against the counter, crossing your arms as you shrug. “I, I just assumed something was up.” You answer, feeling a small wave of guilt cross you as you lower your eyes from his.

“Hey,” Bucky leans closer, nudging your arm as he mutters your name. “sorry.” He whispers, catching your eyes and cracks a small smile to you. “There was something, it’s kinda embarrassing.” He scratches the back of his neck and looks over his shoulder, catching some of your colleagues quickly turning their heads away.

“We can talk about it in my office if you want to?” You quietly suggest, but Bucky shakes his head.

Taking his hand in yours, you guide him into your office knowing the signs he needs some privacy. This was one of the many small things you did that Bucky appreciated more than you’ll ever fully understand. You don’t force him to say things he’s not comfortable admitting, you can just read the signs across his demeanour.

Closing your office door, you sit down on the sofa as opposed to your desk. Your desk makes things feel too formal, it’s where you have meetings with Tony about progress on certain projects or your fellow colleagues and future apprentices he’s considering. But your sofa is a friendly place, there is no separation between you both.

Bucky sits beside you as he places with the hem of his shirt. “I erm, it’s my arm.” He tells you quietly, avoiding your intentive gaze. “During combat practise I was giving it my all you know,” He rambles, always wanting to give you some form of background which you secretly loved to listen to. “and I went to tackle Ant-Man but before I reached the guy he went small and got into my arm and tore something.”

You nod along, but then pause and straighten up. “Wait, when did this happen?” You ask suddenly and Bucky tenses.

“Erm, yesterday?” He answers unconfidently and notices a smile forming on your lips.

“And you said Scott did this?” You raise an eyebrow, watching as Bucky shuffles on the sofa and nods. “Buck, Scott’s been out of town since last week visiting Cassie.” You tell him and his cheeks turn a deep shade of pink within a blink of an eye.

“I erm, I,” He stutters over his words, rising to his feet as he nears your door. “sorry, I, I.”

You rise to your feet, remaining still as Bucky grips the door handle, keeping his back turned. He doesn’t want to see you laugh at him, make fun of him for being so stupid. “Bucky, you don’t need to be sorry.” You say softly, no hint of laughter leaving your lips.

Turning back around, Bucky slowly lifts his eyes up to see you looking at him caringly. You aren’t holding back a laugh at his mistake, you’re concerned. “Look it was a dumb mistake. I wanted to make it sound like I’m not just a dumb ass.” He huffs as he lifts his real arm and runs it through his hair.

Taking a step forward, you rest your hand on his shoulder watching as his eyes focus on yours. “I’ll never make fun of you, Buck.” You remind him. “Unless it was something really stupid, then I might contemplate it.” You crack a joke, and it eases his mood as the corners of his lips rise. “Now, you wanna tell me what happened?”

Bucky nods as you both walk back to your sofa. “I fell over during my run this morning and landed on my shoulder.” He mutters, waiting to hear you laugh but you just nod in response. “It didn’t feel right, I knew I did something to it.”

“Okay, can I see it?” You ask him sweetly.

Despite how close you two are, you haven’t seen him shirtless before. Normally you’re given pieces of his uniform to fix, whether it be clothing or parts of his arm. Most of the time, he sits with you as you fix plates on his arm whilst it’s still attached to him. But this is a first for you both and nerves were rising around you both.

Slowly, Bucky unbuttons his shirt and tries to keep his breathing calm. You focus on the clouds in the sky, covering the top of the Avengers Tower across the site until Bucky clears his throat.

Your eyes focus on the top of his shoulder, noticing the scarring that still remains from the botched job HYDRA did when they attached his first arm.

Lifting your hand up, you look up at Bucky. “Is this okay?” You whisper, watching as he nods.

Leaning closer, you run your fingers along the joint from metal to flesh and Bucky relaxes under your soft touch. You were always gentle, overly cautious which Bucky loved and struggled to adjust to at first compared to what he was used to.

“Okay,” You mutter to yourself as you stand up and move to grab your glasses and sit on the arm of the sofa. “the wires have just come out and have sliced across the top plate, it’ll be easy to sort out don’t worry.” You explain to him, knowing it’s comforting for him to know exactly what you’re going to do.

You rise to your feet and turn to your filing cabinet where you keep some spare equipment. Bucky watches as you pick out a few tools before sitting beside him once more.

“If any of this hurts, you will tell me, right?” You ask him, looking in his eyes as he nods before his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“I will don’t worry doll.” He mutters, unable to ignore how close you are to him.

Clearing your throat, you begin to work on his arm, checking in every few minutes ensuring he’s comfortable.

“Did I tell you about the time Peter once shot a web at his own pants?” You speak up, breaking the silence as you listen to Bucky chuckle, a sound you’ll never tire of.

“He did what?” Bucky continues to laugh, imagining the sight as you carry on sorting the wires out as you lean against his chest. “How’d he manage that?”

You can’t help but join in with his laughs as you explain the story, both lost in each other as you share more stories.

Across the site, Tony stands alongside Steve in his office where he can see your office with a clear view.

“You think they’ll ever say anything?” Tony turns to Steve, unable to miss the smiles you’re sharing with Bucky as you remain tied up in one another.

Steve exhales quietly, leaning against the glass panes as he notices that unmistakable curiosity in Tony’s expression. “I don’t know,” Steve answers, a small smile on his face as he can see Bucky’s growing smile, something that is a rare sight to everyone besides you. “but I hope they say somethin’ soon.” Steve chuckles to himself. “I don’t know how many more accidents Bucky can cause before he runs out of ideas.”

Their attention returns to you both as you fix up Bucky’s arm and move away from him.

“And you’re all fixed up, Buck.” You say with a bright smile, your face aching from laughter as he puts his shirt back on. “Just avoid falling over anything for a few days.” You tell him and Bucky nods as he stands up.

“That’s gonna be hard, doll.” He states with a heavy sigh as he stands in front of you.

“And why would that be?” You tilt your head as Bucky rests his hand on your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Because I’m already falling for you.” He chuckles as he leans closer, finally acting on his feelings rather than leaving them unspoken.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio to add yourself☺️

@biss-stuff @psychicforest @lourightm @mywinterwolf @justsomedreaming @stanlux17@supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx @courtneychicken@marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @fandom-princess-forevermore

251 notes · View notes

confessionsofabiguy · 4 years ago

Text

LONG POST: So, I recently got engaged to my gf of 3 years about a month ago. I’m 36 and she’s 25. Everything is good “on paper”...she’s a great person, she had a good spirit, very intelligent, comes from a great family, nurturing, etc. She’s the first woman I’ve dated in over 10 years. My most recent ex was with a guy that lasted 4.5yrs. We’re still good friends til this day. However, something is missing is my current relationship and I don’t know how to process it.

Earlier this year, I was diagnosed with moderate anxiety and depression and I began medication to help treat it. I’d dealt with this in the past but never had been prescribed meds for it. I used to pride myself on my ability to always be “even keeled” mentally but with the pandemic and other drastic changes to my life, it became too overwhelming for me. I’m grateful for the meds bc I now feel a lot better. I also recently began therapy but the results are still pending since it’s so new.

With the meds I’m taking, it has seriously drained my libido which has, in turn, affected my sex life. I have absolutely no desire to have sex whatsoever. As a recovering sex addict, it’s been one of the best changes of my life. However, my fiancée is on the opposite end of the spectrum. She wants it ALL THE TIME. We’ve had numerous conversations about this with her explaining to me how she feels it’s not fair for her to not be able to express herself sexually like she wants. I actually agree with her. It’s not fair and I don’t know how to remedy this. I’ve explained to her about my past addiction and my current issues with my libido to no avail. She also suffers with anxiety and depression but refused to get back on meds or even begin to do the work with therapy. Again, I feel like I’m doing the work and working on changing and she’s not.

She was very sheltered growing up and hasn’t had much life experience whereas I’ve had a very full life up to this point which includes of course sexual experiences. She doesn’t like masturbating (she says it doesn’t feel right) so the only way she has orgasms is if I give them to her. She doesn’t want to use toys. I like all of that stuff and have very extensive sexual interest. None of which she’s interested in.

Another thing is...she hasn’t grown or changed one bit since we’ve been together and I’ve grown/changed quite a bit. She has no hobbies. She doesn’t know what she likes. She doesn’t really have any friends. She’s self-described as “very low maintenance”. Getting her to try new things is like pulling teeth. I once offered to pay for her to get her hair and nails done and I was given excuse after excuse why she didn’t want to do it. When it comes to the women I’m attracted to, I like certain things. I like a woman who takes some care in her appearance. Not necessarily a face full of make up or anything like that. Just switching up hairstyles or dressing up every now and then. I’m pretty thorough with my style and would like to see her match my fly sometimes. She’s only done this once where she had her hair braided for about 12 hrs and then took them down. I spent $100+ for her to do this and was so excited and turned on with the change. She looked so good! However, I felt extremely let down when she took them out. She only wears jeggings and t-shirts and wears her hair in a ponytail or bun. I understand the need to be comfortable but I just expect to only see her like this for the rest of our lives. This, in turn, feeds into my lack of desire for sex. I’m bored with it. It doesn’t turn me on. I have nothing to motivate me to even be turned on enough to be horny for sex. She just expects me to just be horny from being around her and I’ve explained that that’s just not how it works for me. When we do have sex, I feel like I’m just doing it for her. I feel like a character from Westworld where I’m only using my body for her sake. I feel like a robot just going through the motions. I feel pressured and I hate it so much. Not to make light of it or anything, but I feel like I’m somewhat being r*ped when I’m being put in a predicament where I have to have sex just to please her when I don’t want to.

Which leads me to this. This morning, one of the first things she said to me when I got up is requesting that I ask my doctor to change my prescription to another med that supposedly doesn’t have the side effect of altering my libido so we can have more sex. I immediately felt so bothered, offended, and quite frankly, disgusted by this which triggered my anxiety and depression. I feel like how dare she ask me to change yet another thing just for her pleasure. I’ve changed the way I smoke 420 (she hates it but tolerates it bc it was something I did before being with her). 420 is important to me bc it helps with my anxiety. I’ve started wearing more colors in my wardrobe (I mainly wore a lot of black and other neutral/earth tone colors) because she asked. I would grow my hair out at times bc she likes when it’s longer and curly. I just feel like asking me to change my meds so she can have more sex is crossing the line.

It’s really making me question if I want to spend my life with her. This isn’t something that’s just going to go away. I’m probably gonna be dealing with anxiety/depression for the rest of my life. I don’t want her to have to alter her needs/wants for my sake and vice versa. It’s not fair to either of us. Like I said, everything on paper is good. But things are off. I love her and her daughter. We’re financially in a great place and I love the life we’ve built together but sometimes I just want to be alone. I’m at my happiest and most at peace when she’s not home. I could handle all the financial responsibilities by myself but the same is not true for her. I sometimes imagine what life could be like without her living here and I hate to say it but I’m ok with it. I really do love her as a person but these other things that are off are slowly chipping away at my mental and spiritual peace. I don’t know what to do.

#bi guy confessions #therapy post #long post #tw #sexuality #bisexuality #tw: r*pe #tw: anxiety

9 notes · View notes

make-it-mavis · 4 years ago

Text

Homesick (Entry #40)

(cw: discussion of addiction and relapse) ----------

02/02/88 8:04 PM

Hey.

Well. At this point, it feels like there is so much to say, yet so little… comparatively.

Most of this bedtime story has been rife with screaming arguments, hallucinations, and explosions. There will not be so much of those, moving forward. I could say that the day I blew up Felix’s apartment was a turning point for me. It was the first moment where I truly felt like I had taken a step towards moving on and… letting go of what I could. But it was not a sharp turn, nor was it a great, leaping bound. Things did not suddenly get easier. No, they were only difficult in a different way.

But they were different.

I could probably fill a completely separate notebook with the details of my journey through counselling since then. But that would be very boring to read and to write, so I will just give you the important bits to catch you up to speed. Stay with me, now. This is going to be a whole lot condensed into chewable pieces.

In counselling, we learned about the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Looking back, I can see how non-linear it was for me. I spent so long dancing around the first three. But after my amnesia was cured, I arrived at depression. Collapsed into it, really.

Now, I’ve been depressed before. It was quite some time ago, before you and I even met. So I recognized what I was experiencing. But this time around, it was… more acute. Less existential, and more like an injury. I wasn’t lost inside my head. I knew exactly what I was sad about, and it was as real and tangible as any physical wound I had sustained before.

It was as if my very code had been pushed to the point of exhaustion and could not get back up. I spent most of my time on Felix’s couch, and most of that time was spent sleeping. I barely showered and I smelled like hell, but Felix still insisted on having tea and chatting at least once a day. He did almost all the talking, and I usually didn’t drink the tea, but he didn’t mind. He’d just drink it for me, and end up taking such frequent trips to the bathroom that I’d fall asleep again.

Given that I could barely make myself get up and walk around, going to counselling was more daunting than ever. November passed by without me taking notice, and it was maybe a week into December before I was able to make it there again. When I did, I told everyone what I’d done. What I’d remembered. And how I had been absent so long because I felt too depressed to come. Then, of course, they told me that the best time to come to counselling is when you don’t want to. I wanted to argue with that, but they were probably right.

I very quickly came to understand why counselling was done in a group. At first, it felt like a punishment, like we all had to sit around and think about what we’d done. Or that there just weren’t enough counsellors for one-on-one therapy. It’s not even entirely just for empathizing with others’ similar experiences, or creating a sense of community. No, it’s something much more annoying than that.

A group will hold you accountable. They’ll make sure you’re participating and call you out when you’re not. I went into the counselling experience hoping I could just do the time and get out, but no one gets away with that in a group. You can’t just rip off the bandaid.

No, counselling is more like ripping off the bandaid, then digging into the wound with tweezers to pull out all the shrapnel, then stitching up the wound, and repeatedly changing the bandages to avoid infection. And then those stitches can sometimes come loose and you have to do them all over again.

It sucks. It hurts. But I won’t say it doesn’t work.

Anyway, around this point in the ‘story,’ I still hadn’t quite finished Step 4, with the ‘fearless moral inventory.’ I was still having trouble deciding just what to say. I had Felix be the audience to my venting one night. I explained to him my predicament: I had done many things that others would consider ‘bad’ or ‘immoral’ over the course of my life, far too many to count or to list. And a whole lot of them, I didn’t even feel bad for. Pranks, petty theft, and general snarkiness seemed harmless enough. I didn’t know what was worth adding to the list.

Felix suggested sticking to the big ones. What things did I consider not so harmless? What things were bad enough to make me lose sleep over? What did I really, truly regret?

I didn’t want to tell him. Those questions felt too prying. But, reminding myself that I was trying to make big changes, I eventually managed to name it all.

I felt bad for… assuming the worst of everyone. Especially anyone close to me. I felt bad for getting them all involved with my problems, and… refusing their help, but still somehow taking advantage of them. For making Felix worry that I was going to die, and for making Wreck-it feel responsible.

And Tapper. Just… in general, Tapper. Everything I’d done to him. Lying to him. Using him. Endangering his game.

Endangering my game.

Threatening that one anonymous stranger for a hit of GC.

And getting you hooked on my Shield and Lift buffs… way back when.

I took Felix’s suggestion to write all that down, and whatever else I might have been feeling. It definitely helped me sort out my thoughts. It didn’t feel good. At all. In fact, it was hard to fight the idea that I was a lost cause, and that even before all this, I was not worth saving. But I pushed on regardless, because it felt like the only direction to move in.

As difficult as it had been, listing all that earned me Step 4, and after I recounted it all to the counselling group, I had Step 5, Integrity, under my belt.

Even though it was hard, I was doing well in the program. I really was, all things considered. I had made it farther than I thought possible at the beginning. But like I said… those stitches come loose sometimes. Recovery, like my grieving process, has not been linear. And after Step 5, some part of me felt stretched too far. Like my code once more remembered that I’m not the sort to lay myself open for others to see. Too many sprites had been given deeply personal pieces of my mind to take home with them. It was unnatural. It wasn’t right. It was not like me. I couldn’t piece together this new life with the life I knew before and have it make sense. I was trying to make meaningful changes, for sure, but suddenly, I felt like I didn’t recognize the sprite I’d become. I didn’t recognize my game or anyone in it. It was… eerie.

It put a panicked, defensive fight in me. I had to set things straight. I would not allow this strange, foreign life to continue until I did. So, for the first time in… longer than I had realized, I went back to my den in the woods. Just to be somewhere familiar and see if I could remember who I was.

It helped a little at first. I dug through all the junk I had amassed, each one connecting to some small memory from before this all happened. But then I found three things that were… a dangerous combo.

Your scarf and goggles… and the bottle of blue wine Tapper had given me at the memorial. Still unopened.

I was able to resist the wine. But I… didn’t exactly get rid of it, like I should have.

As for your old, burnt belongings...

I didn’t understand what I was doing at the time, or why. I get it now, I think. Writing my thoughts down had helped in Step 4, and my head was a twisted, tangled mess that I just had to sort out before I went insane. I needed to understand what I’d been through and how I got there. It’s just that I was only inspired to start writing once I saw your scarf and goggles again. Once they threw that angry, vicious anxiety through me and I was possessed by the overwhelming need to reach you from beyond the grave and tell you just what you had done to me.

So… I started writing this story. Or these letters, or... journals. You know.

Since then it’s been… well, incredibly therapeutic. And, just like I thought they would, the folks at counselling said that journaling is a very healthy coping mechanism. That’s what I called it, too. Journaling. I wanted to keep the fact that I was writing to you private. I was already revealing so much to them. I wanted to have just one thing I didn’t have to tell them.

I didn’t think it would have made a difference, anyway, and it didn’t. Not at first. I finished Step 6 just fine, which was Willingness. I was pretty willing to let go of my old bad habits in whatever way I could. Step 7 was harder for a few reasons, not the least of which being that my higher power is not sentient, and I could therefore not ask it for forgiveness, or to remove my character flaws. But I sort of earned Humility in a different way.

You see, I didn’t tell them I was writing to you, but I also... didn’t tell them about the wine.

And thoughts of you had not mixed well with the temptation of substances in the past. So, around Christmas, I holed up in my den and… relapsed. It was nothing big, as far as relapses go. But I’m still not proud of it.

I just wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be. My first Christmas without you.

Anyway… don’t worry. That didn’t put too big a snag in things. I told Felix, and I told everyone in counselling about it, and they all understood. A couple others actually had similar challenges. Many of us had someone to miss, and it was a hard time of year to miss somebody. I admitted to them that I sort of felt like I’d failed. But Clyde remarked that I showed humility by so willingly turning to the group for support, which had been hard for me at the start. I very easily could have tried to hide out of shame or a need to shoulder it alone. Maybe I couldn’t ask color for forgiveness, but in a way, I asked the group for it.

I still sort of don’t understand it. But, hey. Whatever the ghost says.

In any case, I was able to let the mistake go and move forward, which… felt very freeing, now that I think of it. Since then, I’ve been counting the days I’ve spent completely sober, slowly racking them up like the most boring, most difficult sort of high score.

It’ll be forty today.

I’m forty days sober, and I just finished Step 9 a couple days ago. So… I guess I’m doing pretty well.

I’ve been writing a while, and this pen is nearly out of ink, but before I wrap this entry up, I really ought to tell you about Step 9, and what it brought about.

Step 8, for the record, is barely worth mentioning. It’s Love, which, y’know, gross. But it’s basically making a list of the sprites you’ve wronged, which I felt like I had done three times already. Step 9, then, Responsibility, is making amends with those sprites wherever possible.

I’m already well on my way with Felix. Tapper, well… I’ve done the best I can for now. I don’t even know who the sprite I threatened was, so there’s little I can do there. And you… are kind of hard to reach lately. So, the only possible option left was...

Wreck-it.

I’d known for quite some time that we were overdue for a chat. We hadn’t really talked at all since I’d come out of that coma, which meant we had been surviving on brief, awkward greetings and the smallest of small talk for a couple of months. We were not on bad terms, nor good terms. We just sort of existed in the same space, trying our best to just tolerate each other and to ignore the elephant in the room. And before all this, I would have been content to leave things that way forever if it meant I wouldn’t have to talk to him about our feelings.

I only managed to speak to him once the 12 Step Program gave me any idea of what to say, and the desire for things to stop being weird outweighed the awkwardness.

I caught him shortly after the arcade closed the other night, just as he was about to board the train to leave our game. Caught him quite off-guard too, apparently, given the way he jumped and tried to smooth his little yelp into a casual speaking voice.

Like this: “Ahh--!! Ahh! Ahh, Mavis, I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

Making someone jump always brings at least a bit of a smile to my face. “Hey there, uh… Ralph.”

The use of his name rather than his title already earned me a confused eyebrow quirk, but I saw it as setting the mood for the uncharacteristically intimate conversation we were about to have. It seemed effective, given how still he became, almost holding his breath in a nervous sort of curiosity.

“You, uh… going to Tapper’s?” I asked, trying to get him to relax a bit.

“Yep…” he said, rapping his fist against his leg slightly, like he does. “Do you… wanna come too, or..?”

I pressed my lips together, not quite smiling. “Nah. Still can’t go anywhere.”

“Oh-- oh-- yeah, of course. Wow. Stupid question,” he sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “That, uh, counselling thing still goin’ on, then? Or am I not allowed to ask?”

“It is,” I shrugged, shoving my hands in my pockets. “And… you are allowed. It’s actually more or less what I need to talk to you about.”

“...Really?” he asked cautiously. “Me? Why?”

I closed my eyes and let out a steady breath, sorting my thoughts for the hundredth time. “We probably should’ve talked sooner, it’s just that…” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Well, I’ll say it outright. I’m supposed to talk to everyone I’ve wronged. And that includes you.”

He paused. Then he squinted. “Everyone?”

“Well,” I said flatly. “No. Just the ones I’ve done the dirtiest. The big deals.”

“And I really made that list for you? Me?”

I sighed with a slow blink, and cut to the chase. “Ralph, I heard everything you said to me when I was in that coma. Everything.”

“Oh,” he said, shifting his weight awkwardly, until the memory visibly returned to him and he stood rigid. “...Oh.”

“Yeah. Do you…” I struggled to maintain eye contact, “Do you… I mean, do you still actually blame yourself for anything that happened to me… after that night at Tapper’s?”

“Pfft,” he huffed, smiling joylessly. “C’mon. Ew. Did I say that?”

I stared.

He quickly gave in, folding his arms with a sigh. “...No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it. I wanted to help you. I did. I never would have dragged you out there if I’d known you’d… Well. Whatever. Bad Guys aren’t meant to help anybody. Lesson learned, yet again.”

“Yeah… sure. Except the thing is, you, uh… did help,” I said, and saw him perk up the tiniest bit. “You let me stay with you. Even though I was a thankless, entitled pain in the neck. You kept me company just because I didn’t want to be alone. I know you n’ I aren’t exactly bosom pals, and I know you’re a Bad Guy, but… I guess that just makes it even more of a damn decent thing to do.”

He seemed surprised by my words, even a bit shaken by them in some way, but still, his gaze fell away from me a bit. Seemed like he was no better at accepting genuine praise than I am.

Pushing on, I said, “And if you feel guilty right now because you actually wanted to cave in my skull the whole time, then, don’t. I’d have wanted to throw my ass to the curb, too, if I were you. I don’t blame you for pushing me out. I did at first, but I don’t anymore. I was already primed to spiral, Ralph. I was headed for rock bottom one way or another. Don’t blame yourself for what I did. That’s my fault, not yours.”

He looked at me again, a quiet sort of disbelief in his eyes, which was good, because I needed to look him in the eye for what I was about to say.

“Ralph, I’m sorry.”

At that, he seemed… put on the spot, almost. Like he had no idea how to react. He took a moment to think and to breathe, like everything had to sink in. I knew that he would be surprised, so I didn’t really react. I had gotten all of my weird, emotional words out. The hard part was over.

I watched him begin to scrutinize me, like there was some hidden trick behind my back. He even slowly walked in a circle around me, trying to figure me out. He found nothing, and I offered nothing.

“So…” he said, squinting at me sidelong, “you’re sayin’... you’re sorry. You. You, Make- it Mavis, high queen of the gremlins, are sorry.”

I knew he would do that. Make a huge, obnoxious deal out of it. “Yes,” I said plainly.

“For everything?”

“Yes,” I repeated, with just a twinge of annoyance.

“Everything.”

“Yes.”

Then he pointed at me, as if firing off his question quick-draw style: “Even for calling me a trash gorilla?”

“Hell no,” I recoiled a bit. “I’m a recovering addict, not a kiss-ass.”

That was the first time I saw him almost relieved that I’d sort of insulted him. He straightened up and folded his arms, the tension in his body visibly relaxing as he sized me up. He nodded the slightest bit. “Yeah, I know,” he said, “that was just a test to see if you’d actually lost your mind.”

“Oh, so this is the point where you question my sanity. Nothing in the past couple months has been all that unusual, then,” I said, sort of smirking.

“Nah,” he reluctantly mirrored my smile. “Home intrusion, explosions, tryin’ to conk Gene over the head with a wooden club -- all standard Mavis fare.”

That earned a snicker from me. “Don’t think he’s escaped my clutches just yet.”

“Yeah, in his dreams.”

A silence set in at that point. Both of our smiles slowly began to fade as the silence grew from content to awkward once again. I wasn’t sure what else to say, but Ralph looked like he was working on something, so I waited.

“So,” he eventually said, his tone more sober, “you… really mean all that, huh. What you said about… Y’know. That you’re sorry.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I do,” I said quietly.

“Wow,” he almost chuckled, and gave me a sort of smile that I’d otherwise never seen on his face. “Counselling’s sure done a number on you, huh?"

"Well," I shifted my weight, unsure how to respond. It was a strange truth, and it was even stranger hearing it from him. "That's the idea, anyway."

Ralph seemed pleasantly surprised by the whole encounter, but it was just about over. Some small part of him must have wanted to draw it out even longer, a sentiment that I'm sure came as puzzling to him.

Scratching his chest a bit, he said, "Yeah, well… maybe once you're free again, and if you're up for it, we could go for drinks at Tapper's again. Just rag on Gene like the old days. Or Felix, even. I'm sure he's drivin' you up the wall lately with all the fussing."

I clicked my tongue. "Not… for drinks, no. As amazingly depressing as it is to say, I don't drink anymore."

"Really?" He asked, just before lightly smacking himself in the head. "D'oh, of course you don't. Wow. Sorry. I don't know where my head's at today."

"S'okay," I shrugged. "But there's more than just drinks at Tapper's. We can still go. I'll just have snacks or something. Maybe some actual, real pretzels, unlike last time."

He tilted his head. "Last time…?"

Opting to not recount the embarrassing tale of my snack hallucinations from my last visit, I waved it off. "Nevermind. Anyway, this is all making the very big assumption that Tapper will even let me through the doors. Y'know… after everything."

Ralph frowned. "You miss him, huh."

My gaze fell to his feet. "Yeah," I muttered.

"Well, I'm just on my way to see him now," Ralph said, finally turning around to slowly squeeze himself into an undersized train car. "I'll let him know."

Just the thought of any sentiment of mine reaching Tapper sort of sprung a leak in my heart, and before I could think, I was talking, my voice trembling the tiniest bit.

"If-- If you're talking to him anyway," I said, stepping forward almost as if I would follow him, "could you tell him something more?"

Ralph seemed a little surprised by my emotion, but he nodded anyway. "Sure. What is it?"

"Tell him I'm-- I'm…" I sighed, and my shoulders fell heavy. "I'm... sorry. I was probably the worst to him, out of everyone. And I know I can't take any of that back. And if he never wants to see me again… I can accept that. But there's just one thing I really need him to know."

I swallowed. "He's the reason I even agreed to counselling in the first place."

"Really?" Ralph asked quietly.

I nodded, not quite looking his way, focusing all my energy on keeping it together. "Yeah. He… urged me to get help, and when I didn't, I… nearly got his game unplugged. I'm putting in the work now. I'm getting help. I'm getting clean, just like he said. I'm thirty-eight days sober. And it all started because I just… had to make it right. Doing right by him is what's kept me going through a lot of this."

I took a moment to breathe and rein in my unruly emotions, trying to consider just how much I really wanted to share with Ralph. I'm working on being vulnerable, but I've found that I can't rush it. Plus, I'm sure Ralph felt a little awkward on the receiving end. He just watched me, unsure of what to say, but a quiet sympathy still showed in his eyes.

"Just…" I cleared my throat, "just tell him I'm sorry… and thank him for me. Please."

He offered me a half-smile and a soft nod. "Okay. You got it."

At that point, the dinky little cord train began to slowly pull out of our tiny station, sort of squeaking with the effort of bearing Ralph's weight. I watched him go, feeling that hot embarrassment that follows a particularly personal share. The thought that Ralph was probably happy to see me being good to Tapper for once was both comforting and… kind of annoying.

After the train had moved a short distance away, I just about turned to leave, but Ralph's voice caught my attention.

"Oh, and Mavis?"

I looked to see him twisting awkwardly in his seat, calling back to me.

"...Thanks."

That just made my face feel a little bit hotter, but I gave a small smile and flicked a casual salute his way. "Don't mention it," I called back, and waited until the train disappeared into the dark mouth of the tunnel before adding quietly, "...ever."

After that, for the first little while, my evening carried on just about the same as ever. I wound up in Felix's apartment for the usual tea and chats. I played my guitar for a while, and Felix listened happily until the tea was all brewed, and we sat on the couch while he told me about his day. I talked a bit too, but I didn't tell him about my conversation with Ralph. I wanted some light chatter about nothing in particular, a break from the heavy topics that run so rampant for me lately. I even wanted a bit of tea. I still maintain that chamomile tastes like soap, but peppermint is actually pretty good with a hefty scoop of sugar.

It was a couple hours into our visit that the most unusual, most… amazing thing happened.

I had given in to the primal need to lie flat on the floor as I often do, and Felix was sitting at the table polishing his medals when we heard footsteps in the hall. Huge, heavy, thumping footsteps. We glanced at each other for just a minute before we both nearly leapt out of our pixels from the front door being knocked off its hinges.

Through the open, splintered door frame, there stood Ralph, eyes wide. Instantly, his face filled with apologetic embarrassment.

"Woops," he chuckled nervously. "Sorry."

I sat up, and Felix walked over to the door with a bit of an exasperated sigh. "That's alright, Ralph," he assured, easily repairing the door with his hammer and holding it open anyway. "It's polite of you to knock."

My heart began to settle from the frightful shock it suffered, but I was sort of wary to see Ralph again so soon after our last conversation. I didn't know what more he could want, but I didn't feel the emotional energy to deal with whatever it was. I stood and walked over to the door to meet him. He had to twist down a bit to see through the doorway, and his awkward stance was punctuated with a nervous grin.

"Hey-- Hey Mavis," he said.

"Ralph," I grit my teeth just a bit, more from discomfort than anger. I let my eyes dart to Felix just a bit, hoping to signal to Ralph that now was not the time. "...Hi. What… what's up?"

"Uh, well…" he sucked his teeth, "could you step out here for a sec?"

"Why?"

"So I don't have to stand like this."

That was fair. I obliged, and nodded to Felix to give us some privacy. After he closed the door, I immediately whispered to Ralph, "Okay, now what's so urgent?"

Even though he didn't have to bend over anymore, Ralph still had to bow his head to fit under the relatively low ceiling. He put out his hands just a bit to urge me to be calm.

"Look, I'm not here to bug you," he said, and lowered his voice when I shushed him. "I'm just here to make a delivery."

I squinted at him sidelong. "Of what?"

"Well, a message, for one," he shrugged, smiling a little bit. "I talked to Tapper for you, like you asked. And he wanted me to tell you something."

I straightened up, and my heart sort of skipped a beat. "...Oh. What did he say?"

"A couple things. He's, uh… well, he's real happy to hear you're getting help. He wants to congratulate you for that. You've got his full support, he said. It meant a lot to hear that you've been doing well, because you've been on his mind. He thinks about you all the time."

I didn't know what to say or how to react. It was a lot to take in. I had sort of made my peace with him hating me after everything I did, so to hear that he still cared about me was… a relief so acute that it sort of broke my heart.

I barely had time to process it all before Ralph revealed the true hard-hitter.

"In fact, uh," he said, "he'd been thinking of you so much that he… made something for you. He told me to give it to you right away, because… I dunno, he said you seemed ready for it."

Then he reached into the chest of his overalls and pulled out a square picture frame. I was confused at first, but once he handed it to me and I saw what it was, my heart stopped.

Inside the frame were napkins from his bar. Four of them, arranged in a neat square. And on those napkins were… drawings. Two of them were clear, loving depictions of you that I didn't even remember drawing. And on the other two were doodles that you and I had done together. Unflattering, playful caricatures of each other. Our drawing styles could not have been more different -- mine being fluid and organic and yours being clean-cut contour line drawings, but somehow, they worked so well together. The fragile paper was slightly ripped in places from the pens we used, and there were small sections where the ink bled from mug-shaped rings of moisture. All in all, it was a chaotic, dirty mess.

It was us.

It was us at our very happiest moments, just goofing off together, adoring each other without ever needing to say it.

It was the most beautiful gift I'd ever received.

Struck silent by a wall of emotion, I just held it and stared at it in utter disbelief. The fact that Tapper would have cared enough to save such simple things was more than I could comprehend. The drawings could have been years old by then, but still…

It wasn't until my tears fell and splashed against the frame that I even realized I'd been crying.

"Oh," Ralph whispered, a bit of panic in his voice. "Mavis. Crying. Uh-- I'm-- I'm sorry. I didn't want you to-- I'm--"

His hands hovered around me hesitantly, completely lost as to how to comfort me. But he didn't have to decide. I felt an urge and followed it immediately.

I just reached out and took one of his huge, square fingers in my hand, even though his heavy code burned a bit to touch. He froze, rightfully taken aback. I didn't explain. I just stepped a bit closer so that he would not have to reach out to me quite so far, hugged the frame to my chest with my other arm, and bowed my head while I wept silently. Ralph said nothing, but I felt his arm relax a bit once he accepted the situation.

Eventually, I pushed a few quivering words out. "Thank you," I muttered. I looked the gift over once again. "I… I can't believe this."

"So you like it?" he asked quietly.

I could only nod.

"I'll pass that on to Tapper, then," he sighed, but I could hear a smile in his voice. "Gee, I'm just a nine-foot-tall messenger boy, aren't I?"

"Thank-- thank you," I choked out again.

"Nah… it's nothin'," he shrugged.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the gift in my hand. It was so perfect. It felt like everything I needed. Like it was the one thing that was missing in my road to recovery. That feeling in itself stood out to me, and I followed it through my mind. Apart from all the staggering sentimental value, there was something about Tapper's gesture that felt so empathetic, so validating, like he was acknowledging that I lost something wonderful, something worth mourning. It was the first thing anyone had given me, or the first thing anyone made at all, that honored your memory.

Then it hit me. The thing that was missing. The thing I would absolutely need if I had any hope of moving on.

I let go of Ralph's hand and burst through the door of Felix's apartment. He had gone back to polishing his medals, but he quite nearly dropped one when he saw the tears on my face.

"Mavy? What--"

I interrupted him, trying to keep up with my rush of clarity. "Felix," I said urgently, "I need your help. There's something I need from you. I know what I need."

He stood, approaching me with concern in his eyes.

"I need a funeral for Turbo," I said firmly. "A real one. It doesn't have to be big. In fact, it'll probably be just the three of us," I glanced back at Ralph, who was bending down once again, "but that'll be fine. It just needs to happen. Please."

I looked at Felix again, and his eyes were full of understanding, sympathy, and love.

"Then we'll do it," he said gently.

"Yeah," I heard Ralph say. "Count me in."

I choked out a single, grateful laugh. "Thank you."

We began planning right away.

It's happening tomorrow.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #make it mavis #tapper #turbo #original character #homesick

5 notes · View notes