#and he reeks of daddy issues

[beef-unknwn]

My son rhombus. I hate him <3 i hope he explodes. He's a homophobic homosexual and should be tortured for a hundred years for his crimes of being a massive doodoohead

[persistentplums]

Idk I like Orpheus a lot but I think it’s still messed up he messed with Triana mind. Maybe I’m a party pooper but I do think Triana should be a bit mad about it AND get into mind magic which leads into the limbo dream world Hank was in.

I think it’s weirder that Orpheus did it bc I mean the magic stuff isn’t a secret also they actually have a good relationship so I think Triana being upset by the whole thing would make sense there’s no reason not to trust her. I think being upset at his forever image of Triana (his little girl) is something interesting to work with for her development. Especially combined with Dean thoughts about her.

The idea that Triana character was already good so they didn’t need to get back to her I can’t agree with bc she actually has so much more you can do simply starting from the 2 guys who are kind to her keep seeing her in this innocent fashion for their own personal feelings rather than her being a person.

I’m not saying she should spiral and hate her dad I’m saying the complexities we give so much time to the men in this show over small things we didn’t think was gonna be important but are that we praise this show about should be applied to the women in the show too. In that sense Triana still had stuff to do! Not as a major big character but still yk around.

[akkivee]

evil sasara must be so interesting lol like an inverted sasara i think is still just sasara since he’s like two faced asf, but maybe that asshole side of his personality would be his main side lol 🤔

[silversparl]

What do you think of knuckle joe? (So sorry if I already asked and I forgot 😅)

Dw you havent asked before! :3

HES THE GUY EVER!! I really love his design :)

I wish he got more screentime during the anime but oh well, I did enjoy the times he was on screen tho! I dont have many thoughts on him but he is an intresting character :) I do find his voice for the dub a bit strange but its alright. I would KILL to see him interacting with more characters hes a really fun character. Not much other than this!! :)

[jsb-inc]

Man I don’t have anything to post besides oc stuff so that’s what ur gonna get

[bi-writes]

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

next

[bunny-jpeg]

house sitter au

while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*

task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.

that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!

when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.

the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.

four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.

price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)

johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.

simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.

kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.

but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.

other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.

when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*

(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)

<3

[shorthaltsjester]

doing questionable things like rewatching a bard’s lament for “fun” and scanlan and vex you will always be famous. the fact that scanlan brings up that they’ve travelled across planes to fix vex’s daddy issues but then it’s vex’s daddy issues that ground her rebuttal to scanlan when she tells him to stop treating kaylie like an object. and god. vex’s “fuck him! fuck him for not saying anything sooner. and fuck us for not asking.” in the immediate aftermath, and then once she has time to put her walls back up, vex’s “my take-away from scanlan is that we all talk too much.”

the fact that vex was the one who made that comment that without his magic scanlan is just some guy but he’s also the some guy that vex spends the campaign looking up to (even if she does it through barbs and snark), the fact that when vex was fighting against saundor hearing things like “unproven ally” scanlan was all jokes until he realized how much vex believed what was being said to her. the fact that when scanlan comes back, it’s vex who literally sees through his disguise.

what do you mean scanlan was a deadbeat father who discovered a daughter that he did love but loved only as an object until vex called him out on it? what do you mean vex was a woman who struggled to forgive in part due to her crapshoot father and she was the first to forgive scanlan when he came back?

vex and scanlan also have such interesting interactions in terms of the balance of snark, silliness, and sincerity. it’s not uncommon from any characters of sam or laura’s since they are both silly little guys who also love drama and roasting each other especially when it comes to character rp, but as always it’s so dynamic when it’s the two of them bouncing off each other, especially when they’re doing so through scanlan and vex who are already bitchy characters (affectionate) with humour as a deflection method. but it’s a silly and deeply sincere moment when vex finally puts the witch hat scanlan gave her back on with his promise that he won’t run away from the final battle. it is one of my favourite laughable moments in c1 but it also reeks of sincerity when scanlan asks vex if she prefers planetar scanlan or normal scanlan and vex tells him he is fucking hot as a planetar, but she loves him like he was and he’s her favourite when he’s just himself.

like. they’re insane do you understand. the dawnfather asks vex to prove herself and scanlan turns her into a dragon to help her succeed, pelor asks vox machina what vex means to them and scanlan says she’s greedy and mean and the most perfect of them all. the knowing mistress asks scanlan to prove himself and vex escorts him on a broom he unlocked for her and then she picks an impossible lock for him, ioun tries to remind scanlan that his strength is the joy he provides to his friends and he makes a deflective quip that he’s really powerful and vex undercuts his deflection with a sincere assertion that he is. scanlan cast his last wish spell letting her see her brother on her wedding day. vex sent herself across the continent alone with her worry and grief while scanlan’s corpse lay awaiting resurrection to ensure that his daughter could be there to either bring him back or say goodbye.

they are the platonic chosen soulmates of all time to me. i make a post like this like once a year minimum and it’s because they Haunt me. both sam and laura said what if we made high charisma characters using their charisma as a shield and humour as a weapon and they saw through each other’s masks but they never explicitly talked about it to one another. good riddance to talks machina but i will never forget the episode post bard’s lament with laura and sam where sam revealed that vex was the only one who said anything that actually got through to scanlan and another episode where laura revealed that the reason vex was so angry and sad when scanlan left was that vex felt like her and scanlan had a unique bond where they were the only two who really saw one another’s masks for what they were. also laura providing the insight that while vex was actively working on being more forgiving, another reason she was so open and happy with scanlan when he came back was that vex didn’t want to scare him away again.

what am i supposed to do with all that? be normal about scanlan and vex? literally impossible

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Chapter 2- Explanations

Series masterlist

Warnings: daddy issues, drinking, readers more empathic than I’ll ever be, some angst, this is long so grab ur popcorn!

Summary- you finally listen to your boyfriend’s explanation of why what happened, happened. You feel for him, understand his actions. you begin to realize it’s him or your brother.

You glanced at your phone screen and back at your dad on the couch. Was it a good idea leaving him right now? He sat there, switching through the tv channels, mumbling to himself.

He had been drowning himself in his beer ever since Jj came. He hasn’t come back since, you haven’t seen him or heard from him since you dropped him off at his friends house after he had begged to be.

He shouted angrily at you, threw things, and yet it was always you taking care of him at the end of the day.

It was always you tucking him into bed like he was a fucking kid.

“coming in a second,” You typed back. Rafe had been begging for you to come over so he could explain- even going as far as to coming to the house, while you weren’t there.

“Hey, dad, I’m gonna go out for a bit. You gonna be okay?” You asked him, looking up from your phone.

“Where you goin’?”

“My boyfriends.”

“Was that the uh…” he took a sip, pausing before speaking. “Boy that came the other day?”

“Yeah. Rafe.”

“Rafe? Like Rafe Cameron? You,” he laughed as if if it was the funniest thing in the world. “Y/n Maybank, who is 19 and still living with her dad, are dating a kook from figure 8?”

“Yes, dad. Not everything’s about money. Are you gonna be okay here?”

He shook his head to himself, before standing up, slamming his fist onto the table next to him. You flinched at the sound.

“I’m not a fucking kid, y/n. You don’t have to watch over me like I am.”

“Your PO-“ you tried. His mood had changed drastically.

“I don’t give a shit about what my PO says.” He interrupted, downing the rest of his drink and throwing it onto the ground, shattering underneath him.

Your lip trembled as you looked at him. “Okay. I’m sorry. I’m gonna…” you took a deep breath, standing up. “I’m gonna go, dad. Be careful.” You mumbled to him, slamming the door and starting your car.

Grabbing your phone from your pocket, you sent him “on my way”

༶•┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈•༶

“Hey, wheezie. Where’s your brother?” You asked her when she opened the door.

“Hi, y/n. He’s in his room. He’s in one of his moods. You okay?” She asked, noticing your state. Your eyes were red and your face was puffy, you reeked heavily of beer and weed, from your dad.

“I’m fine, thank you.” You told her when she opened the door, and walked to his room. She knocked on his door.

“Go away, wheezie.” He said agitatedly, getting a line ready on his desk.

“Y/n’s here.” She said. You could hear him getting up from the bed, putting things away before he unlocked his door.

“Hi.” He sniffed, looking at you. Wheezie rolled her eyes and left, closing her door.

“Hi.”

He opened up his door and motioned for you to come in. He locked it again and you stood in front of him.

It was silent, the both of you staring at each other. He leaned against his desk now, running a hand through his hair.

“You wanted to explain what happened, so… explain.” You spoke first.

He sighed, biting the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I heard that dad wanted to take Sarah to the Bahamas for some business trip. And what the fuck did Sarah know about business? Nothing. She was running around with the fuckin’…” he stopped his talking for a moment, remembering your brother.

“It doesn’t matter. I was at the tarmac, and I didn’t think… I didn’t think anything like that would happen.”

“Sheriff peterkin told my dad to get on the ground.” He relived the moments in his head, each agonizing moment. “She put a gun to his head and began to arrest him. I couldn’t just.. I couldn’t just watch him get fuckin’ arrested.”

“What was he getting arrested for?” You asked him quietly.

He shook his head. He didn’t want to say.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, the tension in the room thick.

“Rafe…” you began.

“I didn’t wanna do it.” He mumbled, his voice a croak now. He held his face in his hands, shakily breathing out.

You walked closer to him, he just looked the other way as you gave him a hug, something he had not expected.

He began to stutter out, but you stopped him.

“Sh, sh, sh. It’s fine. You’re fine.” You told him, he cried onto you, your shirt getting soaked.

“Sorry.” He mumbled, clearing his throat and wiping the tears from his eyes, pulling away from you now.

One thing about rafe is he never cried. At least not in front of people. He hated to feel vulnerable.

“I just wanted him to… I just wanted him to pay attention to me for once, you know?” He pointed to himself. “Everything’s about fuckin’ Sarah, forget me and Wheezie.” He motioned to the door on the other side.

“I get it.” You did get it, knowing exactly how he felt. He felt bad for his actions. You could tell.

“Sorry. Thank you. For…” he sniffled and cleared his throat again. “For listening.”

“Yeah.”

“How’ve you been…?” He asked, not having seen you in a little.

“I’ve been… okay. I guess. Jj hasn’t come back since he stole the boat, but then he got in trouble with the sbi for helping his friend escape or something, then the phantom drowned and shit.”

“So… that was fun explaining to my dad.” You took a deep breath. He’s been… angrier since then. Feel like it’s my fault, kind of.”

“It’s not your fault.” He quickly spoke, a frown on his face as he listened.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He picked up a cup from his desk, offering it to you.

You shook your head and a small smile on your face. “I think you need it more than me.”

“Shit, I think we both need it.” He chuckled, pouring the liquid down his throat and putting it down onto the table.

“You can stay here. If you want.” He offered once it became silent.

“Oh. No. It’s- I don’t have any clothes or anything, so… I wouldn’t wanna interrupt…”

“Just borrow some of mine. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have offered it. You should go take a shower.” He told you.

“Yeah.” You glanced down at yourself. He went to his closet, grabbed a towel and rummaged through his drawers for clothes.

You stood behind him, he handed you a stack of his clothes and you gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, rafe.”

“Of course.” Was all he said, he directed you to where the bathroom was and you entered it.

Jesus Christ, this bathroom is fucking huge. You thought, looking around. How the hell did this shower even work?

You turned on the shower, getting rid of your clothes and letting the droplets fall onto your skin with a sigh.

Once you got out, you changed into his clothes. Leaving the bathroom, you grabbed your stuff and dried off your hair when someone walked by.

Ward.

He looked at you, stopping for a moment.

“Who are you?”

“Hi, sir. Sorry.” You quickly turned to him. You told him your name and held out your hand for him to shake.

Rafe came out from his room, his eyes landing on the both of you.

“She’s my uh… my girlfriend. She’s staying the night.” He swallowed. Hesitating because he wasn’t sure how his dad would react.

Ward furrowed his eyebrows at that.

“Nice to meet you.” He said, giving you a small nod and smile.

Ward eyed Rafe, who just rolled his eyes at his dad and led you back into his room.

“Sorry. About him.”

“It’s fine.”

“I guess I should tell you… I have to go to uh… peterkins funeral tomorrow. I don’t know if you wanna go or…” he took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay..?”

“I’ll go.”

“Okay.” He nodded. Inside, he was just glad to have some sort of emotional support there. Knowing his dad wouldn’t be helpful.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The drive to the funeral was silent. You greeted and introduced yourself to Rose, who seemed to like you a bit more than Ward did.

You noticed Rafe’s distant eyes, putting a hand on his shoulder and just leaning against him was enough to ground him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I should really get going.” You mumbled, his lips were on your neck and you were laying against the bed.

“Why?” He mumbled against your skin, his hands wrapped around you.

“My dad. I can’t leave him alone this long.”

He nodded. “Right. Right. Of course. Sorry.” He said, running a hand through his hair, getting off you.

“Thank you for letting me stay again.”

“Text me anytime you need to, okay?”

You nodded, standing up and gathering your clothes now.

He stood up too, leading you downstairs and to the door. He cupped your face, smashing his lips against yours before you left, wrapping his arms around you.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When you began to drove home, you noticed two familiar figures.

“Okay, I’m not sure, but I think they can see us from there.”

“Who cares? Should be glad I’m not setting the house on fire.” Kiara replied, turning to Pope and continuing her movements.

“Can you hurry up?”

“Look, doesn’t it piss you off? Even a little?!”

“Of course it pisses me off: I’m just-“ he paused. “I’m just trying to channel my rage into different vectors right now.”

“Oh, okay.” She stepped back, looking at her work she had done on the wall. “Not bad.”

“Hey, I think somebody’s up there.” Pope said, looking over the wall.

“Shit. It’s Rafe.”

“Look, we know what you did!” Kiara shouted to him.

“Hey, no.” He covered her mouth and began to pull her away.

“Murderers!”

“No, now is not the time. Are you serious?” They began to run when you pulled up to them.

“Kiara? Pope?”

“Y/n?” They both said in unison.

“What the hell are you two doing?” You motioned to the wall.

“What are you doing here?” Pope asked you.

They both hopped into your car without you saying anything.

“Oh, great, yeah, just hop into my fucking car why don’t you? I’m not a damn Uber.”

“Can you please just drive us somewhere?” Pope asked.

You sighed and shook your head to yourself.

“No. I can’t. I gotta go back home.”

“Please, y/n?”

Fuck. Being pulled into their stupid shit, again. You groaned, and began to drive to where they told you to.

Once you got there, they both thanked you multiple times and hopped in their boat.

“Hey, do you know where Jj is?” You shouted.

“He got a new job. That one place on figure eight, island sun.”

“Thank you.” You told them. Your dad would be fine for a few more minutes, you thought. But you had to figure out something with Jj, at least check up on him.

So, you put it into your phone and began driving to the restaurant.

You walked in on Jj having some sort of speech. You stood, frozen in your spot.

“My best friend, John B, did not kill Sheriff Peterkin! Rafe Cameron killed and shot the sheriff in cold blood!”

You swallowed as you listened. He wasn’t wrong. And that was the worst part.

He wasn’t wrong and yet you still felt for Rafe, you understood what he was going through and what he thought.

But he was still a murderer. A murderer who helped you in your darkest times, a murderer who you met while doing some stupid job as a teenager.

How was he going to react when he realized you’ve been dating him for months?

Kelce scoffed.

“That’s what happened.”

“Is that so hard to believe, Kelc?”

“It is actually hard for me to believe, because you know, it’s always…” he stood up from his chair. “The kooks fault. It’s never the pogues fault.”

Jesus Christ, this stupid shit. It was stupid, the whole pogues vs kooks thing. You never understood or cared for it.

Jj poured water onto Kelce, and Kelce threw his hands at Jj.

You stepped in now, grabbing Jj and pulling him away while Topper grabbed Kelce.

“Get off me!” He shoved you, the two broke up finally.

“It’s not the time, man.”

“Jj.” His boss called.

“Yeah, I know Raz. I’m fired.” He threw off his apron, you followed behind Jj, grabbing his shoulder.

“What the fuck was that?!” You asked him. He whipped around to meet your eyes.

“I cant stand there and fuckin’ listen to their bullshit! That’s my fucking friend they’re talking about, y/n. That’s my friend.” He motioned to them.

“I get it, J. I do, but you can’t keep doing this. You’re already on probation-“

“I don’t care, y/n. I don’t care anymore.” He hopped on his dirt bike. You called his name, he drove straight into the flowers, destroying it.

“Jj- please!” You shouted, he just drove off, flicking them off.

He sounded just like your dad.

————

Tag list:

@cassie0sstuff

@rafesgiirl

[marvelous-slut]

Call Back - Chibs Telford x Reader

YALL!! I can’t lie, I am a hoe for this troupe if you can’t tell from my other works. Like the close friends daughter? Idk it makes me feral. I swear to god I don’t have daddy issues, like I have the best dad ever so idk why I’m like this but here’s this work that has been stuck in my drafts for weeks.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY! Age gaps & smut.

You watched the club members make their way into the club house as you puffed on the joint that rested between your fingers. Chucky had kept you company while you waited for them to come back from a run. As much as you wanted to slap the shit out of Chibs when he come through the door, you held back. Knowing you couldn’t risk Clay finding out that one of his most trusted members had been with his daughter right under his nose. Even if through all the rage you felt right now toward him, you’d never want him to get hurt.

While the MC was on a run, you’d realized you’d forgot many of your things at Chibs house the night before they left. He told you were the extra key was through text for you to get them back, a part of you wished you’d never went in. You found your things and as you did, the phone rung. Before you shut the door to leave, you heard a voice mail being recorded and decided to stay and listen. Sure, maybe it was a little bit of an invasion of privacy but you wanted to know who else needed to talk to him besides the club and you.

“It’s Fi. Fillip, I want our family back. Jimmy is gone, hasn’t been here for months. Haven’t heard from him either. There’s no sense in us stayin’ apart now. Let me know when you get this, please.” Family? What family? The only family you’d known Chibs to have was the MC. You cursed yourself for not listening to Clay and Gemma more when they’d talk about the members and their lives. You’d think the feelings you’d had for Chibs through the years of being around the club would have made your ears perk up when they’d chat about him. Maybe it was a detail you’d heard and didn’t care about, as you’d never met or seen him with a woman, thinking it was an old fling. Chucky filled you in once you brought it up, telling you how Chibs had been married before with a daughter. He didn’t know much more besides that.

“You gotta go home, no need for you to be here.” Clay says, throwing his bag on the pool table. “And put that shit out, this place reeks of pot cause of you.” He walks past you, just like you were a stranger in the house. You didn’t know what happened on the run, but it had to be something tough. Clay typically treated you and Gemma both like dirt on his shoes when a run went bad or an issue come up with the club. It didn’t make the coldness he came off with sting any less. The hurt was plastered on your face, you put your joint out in the ash tray and ran out of the club house in tears. Pushing past Chibs as you did. Jax looks at him, confused as to what happened.

“Think it’s somethin’ with Clay. I’ll go make sure she’s okay.” He says, Jax nods his head and follows the rest into the house. Jax cared about you, sometimes both of you thought he cared more about you than Clay but right now he had to fill his role as VP.

“Love,” He begins to say. You turn around, laughing as you did. Between the new found information of him being married and your fathers cold demeanor toward you, something snapped inside of you.

“Shut up!” You yell at him, he’s confused and shocked as you’d never talked to anyone this way before in your whole life. Even if you had Gemma for a step mom you weren’t quick to yell out in anger or use your fists to resolve issues like her, even sometimes being like a dog that keeps getting beat down makes anyone eventually explode. “Don’t you have a fucking wife to get back to?” You ask, Chibs eyes widen. He’s speechless and you take the opportunity to get in your car and drive off from the club. Wanting to be anywhere but here.

_____

You laid on your bed looking up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything other than Chibs. Even your father snapping at you today didn’t hurt like this did. That you were used to, being lied to by someone you trusted deeply wasn’t. It was 12:42AM, not a word from Chibs or Clay. You were shocked that Gemma hadn’t been crawling up your ass to find out where you were. Typically you’d go over to visit before heading to your house but today you just wanted to be alone. Trying to sleep hadn’t worked out in your favor and you’re forced to lay in bed with only your many racing thoughts. Before anything else can cross your mind, you hear a knock at the door. You grab your pistol, not knowing who would be here at this time of night. When you look through the peep hole, you’re somewhat shocked at who you see.

“What do you want?” You ask, opening the door. A part of you was excited that he was here so the two of you could talk, but the anger in you didn’t want to see him at all.

“I want to talk.” He says, pushing past you into the house. You couldn’t lie, it was kind of hot that he asserted himself like this. It was always sexy when he did it, one of the many reasons you liked him. He sits down on the couch and you sit on the other end, looking at him. He was looking at you, almost like he was waiting on an explanation. You chuckled, slapping your hands on your thighs as you did.

“What?” You ask sharply, he leans back into the cushions, placing his hands on the top of his head.

“I listened to the voicemail that you heard, and deleted it as soon as it was done playin’. I married Fi when I was in Ireland and younger, a man named Jimmy O got me kicked out of the IRA and married Fi. Raised my daughter, Kerrianne.” This was a lot to process right now, your head still swimmy from the tears youd shed through the day. “Also, did this to ma face.” He says, pointing at the scars that ran over his cheeks. You sit, listening to everything he’s saying. It sounds like some kind of TV show, how the hell do you get kicked out of a country unless you’re a terrorist?

“Listen lass, I should have told you about Fi and my Kerrianne, but it just wasn’t something I thought about bringin’ up to ya. You make me forget all the bad shit in my life, when I’m with ya I don’t have to think about any of it.” He moves over to sit beside you, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “Fi hasn’t had a hold on me since the day you decided to spill ya drink on me.” You smiled at him and laughed. It was your first night back in Charming after moving away for college, Chibs only faintly remembered you when you were younger but you’d made an impression on him your first night back. Being drunk out of your mind, staggering everywhere and eventually bumping into him and your drink flying all over him. You sigh deeply, looking away from him as you attempt to hold anymore tears from coming out. He turns your head back to him, resting his forehead onto yours.

“I know it’s wrong and I know Clay would put a bullet in ma head if he knew about this, but I love you lass. I can’t help it.” He says, at this moment you don’t need to hear anything else he has to say. You lay your lips onto his and he returns the favor. You feel his rough and calloused hands run up your leg, shivering as the coldness from his rings hits your skin. You let out a soft whimper as you’d missed this familiar feeling of his hands on your body.

“How I’ve missed that noise.” He breathes out, breaking the kiss. You stand up, adjusting your clothes. You don’t know why you did, sooner rather than later they’d be scattered across the floor anyways. You reach a hand out and he accepts, following you to your bedroom. Once the two of you are in, he sheds his kutte and lays it on the desk that sits in your corner. The familiar scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke takes over your senses as he places his lips to your neck, kissing gently and carefully not to leave a mark on your precious skin. Before you knew it, your shorts and underwear were scattered on the ground along with his clothes. You lay down on the bed as he hovers over you, typically you got things rolling by landing on your knees for him but he felt like he needed to make this about you. The beads that hang from his neck are hanging in-front of your face, a sight you’ll never get tired of seeing. You feel his hand sliding to your dripping cunt, he slides in two fingers and you arch your back in pleasure. He would have started off with one, but he knew you’d immediately tell him to add another just like you always did.

“So beautiful.” He says as he’s kissing the inside of your thighs. “So wet.” The kisses, how his fingers curl inside of you, hitting your spot just right it was all enough to send your head spinning. His fingers are buried deep in you, but he’s moving them at such an agonizing pace. Knowing you were going insane and silently begging him to spend up his movements. He leans down to you, placing his lips onto yours. This time it’s messy, almost sloppy but you don’t mind.

“Always takin’ my fingers so well, can you still take this cock just as good love?” It had been a few weeks since the two of you had sex due to him being on the run and you’d longed for this moment since the day he left with the MC for Tacoma. You nodded your head yes, knowing if you tried to speak you’d just embarrass yourself by stammering around. He slides himself into you, your hands tighten around his arms as you feel yourself stretch around him. Once he’s buried himself into you and sees the pleasure across your face, he starts to thrust into you slowly trying to set his pace.

“Fuck.” You manage to moan out, he moves the hair from your face so he can take in your beauty. To the both of you, the sex you had was like a drug. Once never being enough. The first time it happened, he insisted it would be the last as well. The minute he slid himself inside of you, seeing your face and feeling you clench around him he knew he’d made himself a liar. Every-time was sensual, even when it was a quick fuck it was always meaningful.

“You always take me so well, love. Almost like this pussy was made just for me.” He lets out as the grip on your hips tightens. You feel your stomach begin to tighten, your face burning and you know you’re there. He knows it too, pumping into you steadily but harsher. “Be a good girl and let go all over me aye?” The words sent you over the edge, bucking your hips against him to intensify the experience. It sends him over the edge, watching you like you can’t get enough of him and he releases into you. Not worrying wether there was a condom on or not. He pulls himself out, grabbing a towel to help you clean up and get himself situated. You wrap yourself up in a silk robe as you watch him dress, knowing the worst moment of him leaving was coming.

“You know you can stay right? Dad shouldn’t be down this way anytime soon.” You tried your best, hoping he’d give in. He sighs, tightening his belt. He walks over to you, kissing your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow love. I have some things to take care of tonight.”

Chibs rides home, it’s almost 3AM and he’s feeling it as his eye lids become heavier and heavier. He silently thanks God when he makes it inside that he didn’t crash his bike into a semi on his way here from the fatigue. He sits on the couch, staring at the phone. He listens to the voicemail from Fiona once more, thinking of her and the life they had. How they had a shot of getting that back. His mind then went to you, he loved you and he couldn’t shake the feeling. He hated to lie to you, but at this moment he didn’t know which path to go down. Telling you the voicemail and feelings for his wife were gone was better than saying “I don’t really know what to do”. He couldn’t bare the thought of hurting you as he’d already seen how that went earlier in the day at the club house.

He didn’t fear anyone, but he knew it would be tricky with you due to Clay. He knew he’d never be able to boast or call you his old lady. Things would be a secret till the day Clay died, and Chibs didn’t like keeping those. He picked up the phone and dialed the familiar number, praying he’d get the mailbox before he had anymore time to think.

“Hey Fi. It’s Fillip. Just wanted to see if you still wanted to talk.”

[lisired]

keep on

pairing: johnny x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, non-idol au, fwb!johnny, alcohol consumption, mentions of addiction/alcoholicism, daddy issues, mommy issues, unprotexted sex (dont b silly wrap ur willy!)

summary: All things love and commitment are feared upon by you. You keep a tight crew and let few people in, cynical of other’s intentions and leaving a trail of broken hearts in your wake. If you break other people’s hearts first, they can’t break yours. And yet, it was all too easy falling for Johnny, digging yourself into a depthless hole of love. But he is no exception to your heartache games.

word count: 13.6k

a/n: this was a pretty quick write. inspired by keep on by kehlani, garden (say it like dat) by sza and off the table by ariana grande featuring the weeknd. have fun reading <3 feedback is appreciated!

Through the blurry lenses of your eyes, love was a synonym for heartbreak.

It happened everyday. People gave people their all and in return, they received nothing but brutal agony. You had seen it happen and experienced the heartache firsthand.

Like when your father left your mother. And thus, the baby they had brought into this world together. It stung like nothing else to watch what became of your mother, drowning her sorrows in liquor. She was never the same.

Perhaps she had passed her bad habits down to you. The apple never falls far from the tree, they say.

Irene’s house was your deemed safe haven for the night. It was Friday and you were having a girl’s night out, but given the gruesome work week everyone had, no one wanted to truly go out.

You strutted inside and collapsed against her island, dropping your purse on the surface. “Get me drunk,” you sighed, tired beyond imagination. Not to mention the text message creeping in your mind.

Yeri giggled and slid you a glass. She had already been drinking, you could tell. She got all bubbly when tipsy. She reached for a bottle, and said, “Irene’s getting the good shit. She’ll be right back.”

They got the bottles and poured the glasses. When they were empty, you didn’t hesitate to fill them up again. There was no doubt that the next morning would bring you a terrible hangover, though you wanted to drink like there was no tomorrow.

You wanted to forget everything. Forget men. Forget the way that they all hurt you. Fuck that, you didn’t even want to remember what hurt was or meant.

They were nothing but trouble.

As the hours ticked by, less and less of your sullenness was masked by your inebriety. It became evident that there was something plaguing your mind. You sat slumped on the couch, bitter.

Irene sat beside you when the coast was clear. The girls had either passed out or gone back home if they were sober enough. But you were seated on her sofa, reeking of depression.

“We can always talk about it, you know,” Irene said softly. She grabbed your hand and let you rest your head on her lap. “It might make you feel better to open up.”

You shook your head and quipped dryly, “And ruin your perfect girl’s night? I thought the point was to de-stress.”

Irene gave you a faint smile and patted your head gently. She was one of the few people who knew the extent of trauma you dealt with. Your every secret was kept under lock and key but she protected them with her whole heart. Irene cared for you, that was undeniable. All things considered, she was like a mother to you. But you depended on no one but yourself and you hated seeming weak. Even if you were.

Besides, there was a time and a place, and this was neither. Ranting about your daddy issues wasn’t the point of tonight. It was to clear your head. Nothing good came out of recalling the irreversible damage your father had inflicted upon your broken family.

I’m sorry. Let me make things right, the text you received read. It made you feel a fusion of emotion - anger, sadness, confusion, disgust. What he did, upping and leaving, was unforgivable. It was a sin.

He broke your family. There was nothing he could do or say to make things right, to mend the shattered pieces. If he wanted to leave then he should have stayed gone. He had no right to try to come and intrude years later. He didn’t get to pick and choose when he could be in your life.

Irene was firm when she told you, “I’m here for you whenever you need me. I know you like to think that you don’t need anyone, that opening up makes you vulnerable, but being vulnerable is okay. I’m not going to attack you for being human and having the feelings you push away.”

Right in the heart - that was where her words always hit you. Irene had a habit of always being right, even if the truth hurt. Even if you desperately wanted her to be wrong. And yet, she never was.

But your lips were sealed. It was too much. Irene could try and soothe you, but even she couldn’t always break you. She sighed, but had another solution.

Irene lifted your head off of her lap and stood, rummaging for her keys. You stared at her with confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you to Johnny’s. No buts. If there’s anyone that can get you to open up, it’s him, and the very last thing that you need to be in this state is alone.”

Your eyes flickered with shock. It wouldn’t be the first time that a drunk you had been dropped off at his doorstep - and it more than likely wouldn’t be the last - but you always woke up penitent the next day.

Johnny didn’t deserve that. He deserved better than you.

“But…”

“Ah, ah, ah - I said no ‘but’s,” Irene wielded her dismissive weapon of a finger. Her motherly instincts were kicking in and it meant that her decision was final. “Let’s go.”

With no other option, you followed Irene to her car with a slight stumble in your walk. Given they lived in the same neighborhood, you were at Johnny’s place in a blink. For some reason, you felt nervous. That was how you always felt around Johnny, even if you knew deep down that you had nothing to worry about.

He keeps on taking me in, you thought somberly. He’s nice to me. Even when I don’t deserve it. And I don’t know why.

If you were sober, you might have felt more guilty. Scratch that, you would have felt like nothing short of a villain. And maybe you were. Maybe you were the bad guy, the wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing.

But that was because you couldn’t help but think everyone else was out to get you. Whatever much excuse you could bring yourself to give.

Irene walked you up to Johnny’s doorstep and rang the doorbell. It was late at night and Johnny liked his rest, but he was wide awake when he came to answer the door. And his entire expression changed when his eyes fell on you.

Johnny had seen you too many times too many in this state and just enough to know when you had spent the past few hours maintaining your friendship with alcohol. It was much more effort than you were putting into yours.

Irene squeaked in her soft voice, “Hi.”

He looked stone cold. It made your stomach twist, just a little. Although you knew Johnny was the warmest person there was. He stifled a sigh and said, “Come on, y/n.”

You shuffled right past him and through the doorway. By now it was routine, yet Johnny thought he would never get used to seeing you this way. He tried to help you, tried to get you to break out of your bad habits. And you were genuinely improving. For you to relapse out of the blue meant that you had been triggered.

When the coast was clear, Johnny shot Irene a glare, and snapped, “Why would you let this happen?”

Irene kept a straight face and took his harsh words in stride. If Johnny lashed out at her, she understood. It wasn’t easy dealing with you, loving you, and she could only imagine what it was like to be in love with you. “I know you’re stressed, but don’t antagonize me for her actions, Johnny. I can’t control what she does.”

“No, but you can enable her. And that’s exactly what you do,” Johnny barked.

“She’s one of my closest friends!” Irene shouted, tears brimming in her eyes. “I would never do anything to hurt her. All I want to do is help her. I’ve been trying. Trust me. I’ve been trying so hard, Johnny. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to help themselves.”

Irene never cried. Much less in front of men. She was too busy being strong for everyone else to let herself be weak. She deserved to lash out, too. Being the calm friend, the responsible one, was hard. And she felt like she only got closer and closer to losing you everyday.

Johnny simmered down once he realized that she was right. All of this was unwarranted. He knew that doing this for you over and over again was only hurting the both of you, and everyone you loved, but he loved you too goddamn much to let you go.

It was frustrating. It made him angry - loving you. Being in love with you. Hearing his heart call out your name. And watching you use him just to dispose of him when you were done like he was some replaceable toy. What made him even more upset was that you were showing progress, and he thought that maybe something good could finally come out of it. Now he had to watch it all go down the drain.

Johnny rubbed his temple and sighed out, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Irene took a deep breath and exhaled. Johnny knew it wasn’t like her to lose her sense like that, but as long as you were hurting, so was she. “Just take care of her. Please. That’s all I ask.”

Johnny gave a nod of head and turned around. He was about to go inside and check up on you when he heard Irene call his name again.

“Please be patient with her. She’s trying.”

She loves you. Irene didn’t say it, but it was clear as day. Written all over her face, swimming in her dark eyes.

He nodded again, more reluctant this time, then pushed his door open and came inside the house. Glancing around, he didn’t spot you nearby. He called out your name, and when you responded, the sound of your voice led him upstairs to his bedroom.

You were now wearing one of his t-shirts, but it looked more like it was wearing you. Things had been like that since you were in high school. He towered over you with the skies above and yet he was filled of nothing but adoration. The memories of you wearing his clothes almost made him break into a smile. Almost.

Instead, Johnny sat down beside you and said, “Are you gonna tell me what happened now or in the morning?”

You frowned. People always wanted to talk, as if talking would make all your problems magically disappear. All you wanted to do was forget that they existed for as long as you could.

Without saying a word, you unlocked your phone, went to your messages, and handed it to him. Johnny gave you a confused glance, but read the text nonetheless. It was from an unsaved number, but the contents of the message gave away everything he needed to know. Clearly, it was from no one other than your father.

“Shit,” Johnny said, more to himself than anything else.

You pushed your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Yeah. Apparently he wants to make up for leaving his daughter and her mother when she was a toddler and driving the woman he used to love into substance abuse. Funny, right?”

Johnny sighed. No wonder you were beginning to sink back into your old ways. This was a trigger and you knew nothing else.

“How’d he even get your number?”

“My mother’s rash decisions or my cousin’s spite for me, who knows,” you shrugged, chuckling. Family reunions weren’t your favorite. At some point of becoming fed up with your family fiascos, you stopped attending. There was no way that you would see your evil cousin, your old-fashioned grandparents, aunts, and uncles, or even your mother. The only thing she and you shared was resent for your father, but you weren’t sure what she was capable of when drunk.

Johnny frowned. As much as it hurt to see you like this, he understood why you reacted the way you did. He was your best friend and your lover and knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew every bit of your trauma, down to the rawest detail - your childhood, all of the boys you once loved that weren’t him.

Part of him wished that you had given your heart to him first. He would have guarded it with a sword and fought off dragons for you. Instead, the boys you trusted handled it carelessly and shattered it into pieces. Now it was much harder to salvage what was left of it.

Johnny pulled you into his arms. He was angry. Angry at your father, angry at the world, even angry at you. But he wanted to be there for you, even if you took advantage of his kindness. When you felt his hands around you, you wept into his shoulder. He smoothed the palm of his hand against your back, and whispered soothingly into your ear, “It’s okay. Let it all out.”

You wept and wept, until you had no tears left to cry. God, you hated crying in front of other people. You hated being vulnerable, but it came naturally when you were with Johnny. Ever since you became friends in high school. And though Johnny never made a move to hurt you, he could have. That was the part you hated. Being vulnerable to someone meant trusting them not to hurt you the way everyone else had.

When you were done, you pulled away and noticed the damp patch on Johnny’s shirt. “Sorry,” you croaked.

“Shirts can dry,” he reminded, and lifted it above his head. “Let’s go to bed. You can talk to me in the morning when you’re sober.”

You nodded, then climbed into bed with him. To say that you hadn’t been in this position before would have been a lie, but you liked being so close to Johnny. He was your refuge from the world that liked to throw knives at you. And when you bled, he was always there to tend to your bloody scars. He made you feel safe, and that scared you more than anything.

Johnny kissed your forehead. “Goodnight.”

Heat flared in your cheeks. Safe didn’t even scratch the surface of how Johnny made you feel, but it would have to for now. You weren’t ready to unpack your feelings for Johnny. You weren’t ready to confront them.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

Even in the dark, you saw Johnny smile. And beneath it he hid the storms of emotion induced by you that were killing him softly.

Between the pain of knowing Johnny was hurting because of you and the pain of your hangover, you couldn’t tell what hurt more.

It was a well-practiced routine. You woke up with a splitting headache, a bottle of water and Aspirin waiting for you on his bedside, and sometimes Johnny would be tucked into the sheets next to you. When he wasn’t, he was downstairs making breakfast.

And when you woke up, taking in your surroundings and realizing they were nothing like your bedroom, the regret settled in. You’re so fucking selfish, you chastised to yourself. Johnny was in love with you. That was positively the only reason he put up with your bullshit, but he deserved better.

And you were trying to give him better, to be the one that he needed. Given your habits of sleeping around to ignore the weight tugging at your chest when you thought of Johnny and drinking away your problems, you were trying to stop. Instead of drinking, you ranted to Irene or Johnny. Instead of finding someone to toy with for a night, you tried to be a good friend to Johnny.

It worked. Even the rest of your friends caught on to how much better and healthier you seemed. Then, your dad sent that stupid text and your whole world went crashing down. You didn’t know what to do. You were torn. Ripped and shredded to fucking pieces.

Maybe it was time Johnny accepted that he deserved someone better than you. For his own sake. You were a tainter that ruined everything you touched and rotted it to the core.

You popped the Aspirin and came downstairs. Johnny wasn’t there when you woke up, but judging from the delicious scent wafting through the air, he was downstairs cooking.

“Morning,” you whispered, sitting at the island.

Johnny shot you a glance over his shoulder and tended back to the stove. He was making pancakes. “If it isn’t Sleeping Beauty.”

You blushed and tried to hide it, asking coyly, “Momma’s recipe?”

“You know it.”

That made you crack a soft smile. He was right - you did know. Part of you envied the relationship Johnny had with his parents: strong and healthy. That would never be you. You didn’t remember the last time you spoke to your mother and your father was self-explanatory.

You shook your head, and hopefully the thought away. It was too early. Instead, you focused on Johnny. He was still half-naked, and you caught yourself gazing at the details of his bare back. Damn, did he look good.

Then, you watched him cook, subconsciously trailing off into your own head again. I don’t deserve him. He went above and beyond for you, from making you breakfast to even letting you inside in the first place. He held you and listened to your rants and tried his best to aid you, but you threw that all away. And yet, here he was.

When Johnny was finished cooking, he fixed you both plates and sat across from you. Apart from giving him your gratitude, the two of you ate in silence. After a while, he commented, “I thought you weren’t drinking anymore.”

You stared at your plate, refusing to look Johnny in his eyes. That would kill you - seeing the pain submerged in his eyes staring back in you. It was obvious that you didn’t want to have this conversation, preferring to leave words left unsaid. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you.

Maybe you already knew and you were trying your hardest to ignore it.

“Old habits die hard,” you murmured, fiddling with your knife and fork.

Your relationship with alcohol was typical. Although you weren’t addicted, it was still unhealthy. For the most part, when you drank, it was to forget about the feelings and thoughts plaguing your heart and mind. Escapism was your go-to coping mechanism. You weren’t strong enough to confront your problems head-on.

“You can’t keep doing this.” We can’t keep doing this.

“I know.”

Johnny sighed. “What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip. Of course, Johnny could tell when there was something troubling you. There was no hiding from him. He was the only one capable of coaxing you of an answer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up here unannounced expecting you to take care of me.” Just like you always do.

Johnny was quick. “It wasn’t unannounced. Irene texted me.”

“That’s not the point and you know it,” you said, finally looking up at him. The expression he sported was grim. It hurt to see the way he looked at you, but you knew that you didn’t deserve his beautiful smile. 

He sighed and glanced off, almost looking offended. “Then, what is your point?”

You shook your head. You weren’t ready to have this conversation and you doubted that you ever would be. “Forget it.”

“No. Talk to me. I just hate when you freeze me out,” Johnny urged swiftly. He hated it more than anything else. All he wanted was your love, but he was quick to realize that it was hard to thaw your frozen heart out.

Eyes drifting back to your plate, you shook your head and whispered, “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Johnny softened up. For fucks sake, you were impossible, but he had too much sympathy for you. He understood why you acted the way you did, even if that didn’t ease the pain or validate your behavior. Most of all, he didn’t want you to follow your mother’s footsteps and become the person you swore you’d never be.

Last night hurt him, too. Patient was all he had ever been with you. He had been patient with you for at least ten years. He was so sick of waiting, but it was safe to say that no matter what, you would be his first and last love.

When the room got quiet, you spoke up again in a little voice, “He texted me Thursday night. I still haven’t responded. I don’t know what to do anymore, Johnny.”

“Do what you wanna do,” he told you, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s up to you. You don’t have to forgive him. You don’t even gotta respond. What he did was fucked up and he shouldn’t expect you to give in easily. But whatever you choose to do, your first priority should be letting go.”

Letting go. Easier said than done. All your life, letting go had never been your forte. Part of you was still scarred by your past lovers. Grudges ruined your life.

There were reasons why you came out this way. Of course, part of it stemmed from your childhood, though not everything and your identity was intricately layered.

In high school, you fell for Lee Jeno. He was the sweetest boy that you’d ever met - or at least you thought he was - and he almost instantly swept you off your feet. Jeno had all the girls swooning and the fact that he chose you made you feel a special type of bliss. Until you found him making out with a cheerleader in the locker room.

Then, in college, you decided to give romance a second try. It was Osaki Shotaro’s turn to break your heart. You remembered like it was yesterday and it was all so sudden. Out of the blue, Shotaro broke up with you and told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. He left you for another woman. You couldn’t imagine how many times he had been with her all while being with you. It made you sick to your stomach.

After that, you were scarred for life, scared shitless of love. Boys proved time and time again without fail that their only intention was to treat your fragile heart like dirt on the bottom of their shoes. They walked all over it, taking advantage of your blind love. Fed you lies and empty promises of forever.

That was why you kept your heart guarded and under lock and key. You intentionally kept your relationships short and discardable - no strings attached. You didn’t want to trust anyone else with your heart. They threw it in the middle of a busy highway and now it was in traffic.

Trust issues, they called it. Issues - that was your forte. And you had a variety. Trust issues, abandonment issues, daddy issues, commitment issues. Whatever the label slapped on them, they all controlled every moment of your life.

Johnny added, “I know that’s easier said than done, but promise me you’ll try. Will you?”

You nodded your head and fought back tears. Weak was the word you used to describe yourself in your head. It was far too easy to break you. “I’ll try, I promise. But I don’t know if I can do it.”

“I believe in you,” Johnny whispered, voice soft yet powerful. You were convinced that he had too much faith in you. Never had anyone believed in you this much. Never had anyone loved you the way that Johnny did and you didn’t know how to accept it.

Your heart was at constant war, unable to choose between two stances. Johnny wasn’t like the other men once in your life. Or maybe he was, yet hid it well. Maybe he was waiting for you to trust him to break your heart.

Both of you finished eating and changed the subject. It was a relief. Johnny hated making things awkward and you were grateful for that.

After a while, Johnny drove you back home. You hated leaving and Johnny hated watching you go, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t used to this cycle. You stood at your doorstep and said, “Thanks for breakfast.”

Johnny nodded. “Any time. When will I see you again?”

He liked seeing you. Just not after a long night of you disregarding your troubles with sex and alcohol.

“My schedule’s packed Monday through Friday, but maybe one of those nights,” you said. Often you found yourself making time for Johnny when there was none. And in return, he did the same. He showed you a good time and to your definition, that meant a night of relieving pent up stress. “If not, I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Okay,” Johnny nodded again. “Later, alligator.”

Before he could leave, you leaned on the tip of your toes and smashed your lips against his. Johnny seemed genuinely caught off-guard, but he wasted no time in kissing you back, stealing your every last breath like there was no tomorrow. You liked kissing Johnny. Apart from the warm feeling boiling in your chest whenever he pressed his lips to yours, he was just so damn good at making you feel like you were on a cloud.

You pulled back and caught your breath, smiling. “After a while, crocodile.”

Johnny grinned and walked back to his car.

You didn’t see Johnny again until the following weekend.

Not that you didn’t speak. You and Johnny were inseparable and spoke everyday if you could, via texting or phone calls when there was no chance of seeing each other in person. You told him that you needed time to yourself and he both respected and encouraged your decision.

You were busy thinking - an upside of Johnny’s influence. Most of the time you hated being in your head and avoided it at all costs. It was a dangerous place to be, but you were trying harder to not disappoint him once more.

In that time, your father sent you another message. He wanted to meet up with you and was unyielding. The ball was in your court. You could agree to hear him out or you could block his number and pretend it never happened, but it was no easy decision.

Saturday approached far too leisurely. Uneventful days of work and pondering led to the date of your friends’ betrothal party.

With a very Yuta-esque spin to it. The event was casual through and through. The dress code was loose and neither party held good relationships with their family, meaning most of the guests were close friends. It was a pool party and everyone would be in the backyard.

When you caught up to Yuta and Winwin, you didn’t hesitate to ask, “Okay, I’ll bite. Who did it? Who popped the question?”

Yuta fought a smirk and shrugged blithely. “Guess.”

“Winwin?”

Winwin shook his head. “Nope. Contrary to popular belief, Yuta’s quite the romantic. In his own way, of course. He even crouched down on one knee.”

It was somewhat believable. The Yuta from before he met Winwin wasn’t the Yuta that stood before you now. He had seen the light and became a man of all things love and cheesy.

Still, you teased, “No way. Can’t believe the main hoe of the town is settling down. What happened to being non-monogamous buddies?”

“Shit changes,” Yuta said, sighing blissfully as he wrapped an arm around Winwin. Then, he teased back, “Besides, we both know it was either me and Winwin or you and Johnny next in fate’s line.”

You blushed and spluttered, “Where’d you get that idea from?”

Both boys laughed like you had told the funniest joke. You narrowed your eyes, and Winwin answered for his future husband, “I know I’m the latest addition to the gang and all, but even I can see the sparks between you and Johnny. There’s obviously something there. I don’t know why you haven’t acted on it.”

Yuta exchanged knowing glances with you. He probably understood you the best out of everyone present. Your life’s weren’t carbon copy’s of each other, but he had lived the closest thing to your trauma. You weren’t ready. For a while, neither was he, but if he could let go and move on, maybe so you could you.

“There’s been sparks since motherfucking junior high. It’s always been a given that you two like each other and you’ll get together one day in the future. I couldn’t see it any other way,” Yuta said.

That should have made you feel happy, but all you could feel was dread and regret fused with yearning. All of your friends could see you together, but you weren’t sure if you could give him that. How selfish of you to be the one holding the two of you back.

You should have told him to move on and let you go. Instead, you avoided confrontation for as long as possible, craving every moment of his love and attention until the flame went out. You didn’t want to give him all of you yet, but you didn’t want to give him away either. Losing Johnny meant that he would never be yours. Maybe that was what it would take for you to open your eyes.

New guests caught Winwin’s eye and he tugged on his fiancé’s arm. “We’ll catch up with you later, we have to greet the other guests. Come on, Yuta.”

“You go ahead, babe. I’ll be right behind you in a minute,” Yuta dismissed. Winwin only nodded and went to greet their guests. Then, Yuta turned to you and quietly asked, “Everything okay between you and Johnny?”

“It’s your engagement party. Don’t worry about us,” you sighed, searching for the bar through the corners of your eyes.

Yuta was quick to retort, “And you’re my friends. I can worry about you whenever I want. Now, what’s up?”

You bit your lip. This wasn’t the kind of conversation you had in the middle of a betrothal party, but Yuta was adamant. You thought about the last time you had seen Johnny, how you felt when you kissed him. God, you missed the feeling of his lips on yours. Whenever Johnny was near your side you wished that you could hit pause on time. It was funny how the most beautiful moments in life were the most short-lived ones.

Your voice was small when you said, “I’m not a good person, Yuta.”

Yuta glanced at you curiously, eyes urging you on. “What you do?”

“I let Johnny down. A couple of weeks ago I told him that I’d try to break out of my habits. And I was actually doing better. I stopped resorting to drinking whenever something inconvenienced me and finding one-night stands to forget about Johnny.”

Yuta nodded along. “And then?”

“And then, my dad texted me and said he wanted to make things right between us, and I didn’t know what else to do. I got drunk last Friday night and Irene took me to Johnny’s house. I don’t remember much, but I know I winded up telling him what happened and crying on his shoulder,” you chuckled sourly. “He made me breakfast the next morning and we talked about it. And I feel bad because he doesn’t deserve none of this shit. He deserves someone better.”

He deserves someone that isn’t afraid to love him.

“Are you gonna be that person?” Yuta questioned, tone genuine.

I want to be. You exhaled. You didn’t know the answer to that.

You blinked, feeling tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know. The worst part is he has so much faith in me when I’m not even sure about myself. He should have walked away a long time ago, but he’s still here, waiting for me.”

“He’s ready when you are. But you aren’t ready yet, are you?”

Shaking your head, you frowned. You were far from.

“Be better. Do better,” Yuta said assertively. “I know that’s harder than it sounds, but you gotta try. Figure that shit out with your dad. What you choose to do is none of my business, but you have to heal and let it go so that you can be a better person for yourself and for Johnny.”

“That’s practically what Johnny said.”

“Great minds think alike,” Yuta grinned.

You snickered. “You got engaged and got all wise and shit, huh?”

“You know the tale. My dad was a drunk and treated me and my Mom like shit. It was up to me to decide if I wanted to grow into him, or if I wanted to be better,” he spoke monotonously.

But you were scared. You wanted to do things the right way, but you weren’t certain if you knew how. “What if I mess up?”

Yuta didn’t hesitate. “The point of mistakes is to learn. We all fuck up once or twice. That way, you know what not to do so you don’t fuck up the third time. It sucks, but that’s the way life works. Don’t make the same mistake thrice.”

He spoke the gospel. Where your family lacked, you were at least glad to have supportive friends. They were kind and you knew at the end of the day, they were people you could confide in. Maybe you would do it more often.

“I won’t,” you told Yuta. You sounded firm.

“Good,” he replied, and scanned the crowd for Winwin. “Now I gotta go with Winwin before he beats my ass in front of everybody. You go find Johnny, alright?”

You nodded. That you would. It had been too long since you had heard his voice and felt his touch and you were craving a taste. With that, Yuta left to join his husband-to-be and you scanned the crowd for your own lover.

In an instant your eyes landed on Johnny and you could spot him in any crowd. He was at the edge of the pool talking to Ten, who you caught casting Johnny a wink before walking away once he noticed you coming over.

When you got there, you crouched down and sat next to him. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Johnny greeted, instinctively wrapping an arm around your waist. “You look great.”

You blushed. This morning you had deliberately chosen the sexiest bikini set in your wardrobe. It raised the stakes and given how addicted Johnny was to your body, your chances at getting laid tonight. “You look the best.”

Johnny was also half-naked, obviously. And damn did he look gorgeous. You bit your lip. You were thoroughly convinced that the gods themselves had sculpted him. His body was to die for and you were offering yourself up.

Johnny joked, “I won’t argue with that.”

You snickered and nudged his side.

“How was your work week?”

Johnny groaned and you immediately knew the answer to that question. “I’m stressed and exhausted. I need an outlet for my pent up frustration.”

“Oh?” you stammered, mouth suddenly dry.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. His hand ran up and down your back and he leaned to your side, whispering, “Good thing I have you, right?”

There was a crushing weight on your chest that made it difficult to breathe. Whenever Johnny was near you, the pressure came back, and it only got more intense when he did things like that. The effect he had on you was strong and he had you tingling with lust.

“Yeah,” you murmured back, trying hard to keep your cool and avoid appearing anything other than indifferent. But he could see right through you. “Good.”

“What about you?” Johnny pressed. “How was your week?”

“I don’t wanna think about it,” you grumbled.

Johnny was so close to you that you could feel the warmth of his body radiating your skin. Given the sunny weather, you were already hot, but something about this felt internal. It was like trying to breathe on the moon. Johnny parted his lips and suggested, “Kiss me until you forget about it.”

There was no need to tell you twice. You initiated the kiss, steering his lips to yours until they met with a clash. Johnny took control, arms still wrapped around you as he took passion to another level. It wasn’t long before you were sucking on each other’s tongues. You crawled into his lap for easier access, wanting to be as close to him as humanly possible.

Heat flared from your chest to Johnny’s and vice versa, spreading from bone to bone at the skin on skin contact. Whenever you made out, it was like you were floating in air or navigating through space with no gravity. His hands clung to your body and you were on a cloud, elevating and trying your hardest to refrain from grinding down on his crotch.

Johnny deepened the kiss, holding you tightly as possible and moving his mouth against yours fiercely. His heart was thundering against and threatening to leap out of the cage of his bare, burly chest. God, there was no greater pleasure than kissing you and feeling your warm body on his. But you both were putting all of your strength into resisting each other and it was too much. The feelings were overbearing.

When you both pulled away, you exhaled little breaths, hearts racing. You looked Johnny in his lustful eyes and heaved, “I like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You taste good as hell,” you flirted.

“Mm,” Johnny hummed, nodding his head. He pulled you square to his chest, face hovering hardly inches over yours. You gulped, which undoubtedly didn’t go unnoticed. “What do I taste like?”

You pressed your palms to his naked chest, purring, “Strawberry champagne.” 

“Yeah, you missed the bottle popping,” he chuckled. God knows you would have loved that.

Faking a pout, you replied, “Bummer. I was too busy trying on different bikinis.”

“You wear this all for me?” Johnny flirted, ever the intuitive man. Unbeknownst to you, he had been eyeing you from the moment you stepped onto the scene. And the second he laid eyes on you in your bright red bikini, he knew that he had to have his way with you.

“Especially for you. I know blue’s your favorite color, but red suits me better.”

“You make short work of supermodels in anything you wear,” Johnny growled. He was looking at you from head to toe, as if he were going to swallow you whole.

“You’re just saying that because you wanna have sex with me.”

Johnny wasted no time in shutting you down. “I’m saying it because it’s true. Sex would be a nice bonus, though.”

You laughed.

“Come swim with me,” Johnny said, gently sitting you back on the edge of the pool before coming to his feet.

You hesitated. “Won’t Yuta be upset we ditched him at his engagement party?”

“That wasn’t a question,” Johnny added, lowering his voice. Which definitely did unspeakable things to you. “And trust me - Yuta doesn’t give a flying fuck as long as we join in when it’s time to gather around and shit.”

That was true. It didn’t mean Yuta had unsophisticated tastes, he simply just didn’t care for rules and formalities - untraditional by any means. Winwin was the opposite. Conventional to a fault, he was a man of decorum and the party was a clear mix of both of their personalities. Somehow, they both made it work.

Ignore the pace of your heartbeat, you muttered, “Okay,” and sunk into the pool.

Johnny followed suit with a tiny splash, swimming to your side. Being in the water felt good, all things considered. It was cold and gave your brain - and body - a quick refresh.

“You know, this reminds me of high school,” he started, pensive. “When Joy threw that pool party on the first night of summer break, and Jaehyun pushed you into the pool as a joke.”

The memory made you roll your eyes. In high school you were nothing if not a bunch of stupid teenagers. “He’s lucky I didn’t let myself drown and have my Mom sue him for everything he’s worth. Now that I think about it, I should have. Every penny to his name. Mommy and Daddy Jung would have killed him.”

Johnny chuckled. “Oh for sure. He would have been taking the city bus instead of high-end luxury cars and gotten a job at the nearest McDonald’s like the rest of us.”

“Damn nepo baby,” you shook your head and sighed. “Gotta love him, though.”

“To be born into wealth,” Johnny sighed dramatically.

You giggled.

Moments later, a thought passed your mind. A memory - the beautiful kind. You fought a smile and asked, “You know what else happened at that party?”

Johnny gave you a long, hard cook. It was practically inscrutable and noncommittal. If he had any idea what you were referring to, the only thing that gave it away was the slight smile on his face for a mere fraction of a second.

Of course, he knew. How could he forget? It was easily one of the best moments of his life, made even better because it was spent underneath the moonlight with you.

He shrugged, feigning oblivion. “What happened?”

“We made out for the first time,” you reminded, voice little. “We were each other’s first kiss.”

The memory was anything but vague. The both of you were a little drunk, and somehow found yourselves in each other’s embrace. And then, in each other’s mouths. For someone who had never made out with anyone before, then-Johnny kissed you like royalty. With every intention to conquer your mind, heart, and body.

In that sense, you guessed he had been successful. Johnny lived rent-free in your mind and had built a little home both there and in your heart, with enough room for the both of you. Not to mention your body. You were counting down the seconds until you could get him in the sheets right now. In your attempts to keep him out, you had simultaneously been giving him access to the most vulnerable parts of you.

To say nothing of himself. Johnny wished he could turn back time. Part of him wished that he could undo meeting you and falling in love with you, because he was beginning to lose faith in the two of you. The other part of him loved you too goddamn much to even begin to imagine a world without you in it. It wouldn’t be worth living.

“I remember,” Johnny assured, finally letting himself smile. He couldn’t control it. “Wanna know what you tasted like?”

You squinted. “What?”

“Guess.”

You rolled your eyes and deadpanned, “Your mother’s chocolate chip cookies.”

Johnny’s laugh was mocking. “You wish.”

Whining, you said, “Tell me! I don’t remember.”

He gave in - though because he wanted to and not because you told him to - and replied, “Tequila.”

“The cheap kind?”

“Nope. I’m sure Jaehyun stole that from Mommy and Daddy Jung’s liquor stash,” he quipped.

You snickered. It was a relief that he was good at directing conversation. For a moment, you thought that it was going south. God knows the past was a sensitive subject.

Although he said nothing, Johnny couldn’t help but think about it. For years, he had been in love with you. He remembered meeting you like it was yesterday - you were the new kid in school and Johnny was the one kind enough to be your friend. He showed you around, ate lunch with you, studied with you, and introduced you to his friend group. In no time, you were best friends.

You were his first kiss. Johnny knew he wanted you that night. When he pressed his lips to yours and felt his body elevating into the clouds above, he knew.

Eventually you became a series of each other’s firsts. First kisses, first times, first loves. You had been vulnerable to each other in ways that you hadn’t with anyone else.

And you, you were multifaceted. Johnny had seen the rawest sides of you and fell hard and deep in love with each one - the beautiful and the ugly. All of those things made you fall for Johnny, too, but you noticed it a little later than he did, once it was too late. Which hindered his progress.

By the time you realized you were in love with Johnny, you had already given your heart to the wrong people. That was why you couldn’t comprehend how someone would ever be able to offer you their love, and mean it. That was why you trusted no one.

Forget being your first. Johnny wanted to be your last and as the clock ticked, his chances felt slimmer and slimmer.

You stared at his lips, not even attempting to hide the direction your eyes were searching. “I want strawberry champagne.”

Johnny tilted his head. He had x-ray vision when it came down to your intentions, though this game he wouldn’t mind playing along with. “Do you?”

When you nodded, Johnny took the bait and leaned in to kiss you. It was like magic. Every time felt as surreal as the first one. You just couldn’t believe that you were blessed enough to have him at your fingertips.

Johnny was the same. I love her. It was old news to almost everyone, though the realization hit Johnny the same way it had that night when he first tasted you. When he realized that you were the one and only love of his life.

Sucking on Johnny’s tongue and moaning into his mouth, soaking in all his little sounds was all you wanted to do. Maybe this was why Yuta said you and Johnny would be next in fate’s line. It would be a lie to say that you hadn’t dreamt of having your daddy walk you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

Though if there was anything that you had learned, it was that fate was an evil lady and she had it out for you.

Johnny soon backed off. He hadn’t had his fill, but you were driving him crazy. And as much as he wanted to be a good friend to Yuta, the urge to drag you away for a fuck was growing stronger. He warned in a low tone, “We’ll miss the rest of the party if you keep kissing me.”

“What’s so bad about that?” you purred, leaning closer to his face. You could feel each other’s breath on your skin. “We can have a party of our own.”

To your credit, you were dangerously skilled at tempting Johnny. It made him feel bad to think that you practically already were having a party of your own. Both of you were surrounded by people, but to him, it felt like there was no one else around you. The sound of your voice and laughter had been drowning out the sound of the presence of people.

With the last of his restraint and self-control, he said, “Mm, that’s tempting. But no. Be a good girl and be patient.”

Immediately, you frowned, but didn’t dare disobey. Johnny would give you what you wanted sooner or later because you knew that he wanted you, too. And though you had your flaws, you weren’t terrible enough to dip in the middle of your friend’s betrothal party.

“Fine,” you said exasperatedly, peeling yourself off of him. “But you better make it up to me later.”

Johnny gave you one last kiss to placate you a little, then whispered softly in your ear, “Don’t I always?”

That he did.

For the better half of the evening, both of you decided to interact with other people, including the ones being celebrated. Most of the time you and Johnny were incapable of resisting each other, and with the thoughts plaguing your minds, there was no way on earth that you would survive side to side without breaking your agreement.

You had a fun time, but you were more than relieved when Winwin announced that he and Yuta wanted some alone time. Everyone said their goodbyes and you raced to Johnny’s side.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine’s closer. Meet you there?” Johnny asked, though he already knew you would. You were practically careening to your car the moment he got the words out.

“Meet you there!”

Both of you arrived in turn, with you slightly ahead of him. You didn’t even wait for him to pull into the driveway before you were rummaging through your purse for the extra key Johnny had bestowed upon you long ago.

It was game over once he stepped out of his car and you were only alone for a split second before he entered, wasting no time in backing you against a wall and stealing a kiss. Johnny always kissed you like it was the last time he would ever get the chance. There was something eager in the way that his mouth moved against yours. It was heated, unchaste. He kissed you so hard that it was impossible to keep up with his pace.

“Someone’s desperate,” you teased through shallow breaths. Johnny nibbled at your ear and you sighed, pitching your head back against the plaster.

He ribbed, breath tickling your neck, “You’d oughta know a thing or two about being desperate. Seeing as you got to my house before me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up and kiss me.”

Under any other circumstances, Johnny would have teased you and made you wait before he kissed you again. Though seeing as he had been waiting too goddamn long for this moment, all he could do was cave.

Goddamn, his lips were soft. In contrast to the rough manner he handled your body. Everything was escalating too quickly and you were being dug into the wall by the weight of his body. There was so much tension in the room that you could hardly even breathe through it.

Johnny nudged his knee between your thighs and stuck his hand down your bottoms, the other roaming your body. “You’re so wet for me.”

“Do something about it,” you whined.

Johnny sneered. Part of him was half-tempted to tease the living hell out of you and see how much you could take. The other was losing hold of his heavy load of patience much more quickly than he would have liked.

“Wanna fuck in the shower to wash off the chlorine? Kill two birds with one stone.”

“Just don’t let me fall.”

He smiled. “I would never.”

Before you knew it, he was lifting you up in his arms like you weighed nothing. You squealed when you felt yourself being hauled into the air, locking your legs around his waist and resting your head on his shoulder. It felt too right being in his hold. As if it was supposed to be this way.

Maybe it was.

Johnny carried you to his bedroom and you clung to his chest for dear life. While he went in the bathroom to run the shower, you began to quickly peel off your clothes. You were on the threshold of insanity, bursting at the seams with lust. 

When the water was hot, Johnny stepped into the shower and you followed suit. As soon as your feet hit the non-skid shower mat Johnny shoved you against the wall, and the noise you made was eaten by the force of his lips. Your palms rose to his wet chest and his mouth fell from yours to your collarbone, soft and plush against your skin.

He simply couldn’t stay away. He spread your thighs apart and slipped one of hands back between them, this time moving them inside of you. Much to your pleasure. “Johnny,” you whimpered, breathless.

The sound of your lips parting to emit his name was like music to his ears and a melody stuck in his head. Thoughts of you underneath him, crying out his name whilst taking his size kept him up late at night, wishing he could rewind time to feel you back in his arms again. Where you belonged. It took every bit of willpower he had not to beg you to stay.

“Think you’re ready for me?” Johnny asked, leering at you with the darkest gaze that made your stomach churn.

You nodded. Johnny was big, that was undeniable, but you had taken every inch of his ungodly combination of length and girth countless times before like a champ. It was almost nothing to you.

He removed his fingers from your cunt and before you got the chance to whine from the emptiness, your lips were widening to sigh at the feeling of his bare cock brushing against your folds. Every second felt like minutes and your patience was wearing more and more thin. You needed him and you needed him right now.

Then, Johnny finally pushed inside, taking his sweet time to fill you. You swallowed him in with ease, simultaneously sucking in the deepest breath you could take. His eyes fell on your chest, water trickling down the swell of your breasts as you inhaled and exhaled.

Maybe taking him wasn’t like nothing. You felt not an ounce of pain, but the pleasure of having him fill you to the uttermost was overwhelming. The stretch meant something.

The moment the head of his girth prodded your entrance Johnny had already felt you pulsing tightly around him and you only kept clenching the deeper he pushed inside. You raced to anchor yourself, clawing at his shoulders while he pushed you firmer against the wall and he caged you between his big arms.

Johnny kissed your neck, then growled, “So tight for me.”

“All for you,” you stammered through thick breaths. It was too hot to breathe. The water burned your skins and Johnny made you erupt in flames all over.

Johnny grinned smugly.

Through hooded eyes, you soaked in the sight of water cascading down his neck - where his muscles flexed - and chest. For the better half of your life, Johnny had been a presence, but you would never get used to how gorgeous he was. His beauty was so ethereal to the point that it felt forbidden to be able to touch him like this. He was sent from the heavens above, both a blessing and a curse to you and your body.

The chains of restraint that bounded him snapped and Johnny latched his mouth to your nipple, meriting an automatic sigh of pleasure from your lips. With how close he was, you wondered if he could feel the thud of your heartbeat. It was racing inside your chest, the feelings you had for him raining hail and begging for freedom. Your heart was bursting at the seams with your love for Johnny and it pleaded desperately for you to unlock its door.

“You’re so hot,” Johnny whispered, keeping himself occupied with your body. Your brain was going into autopilot.

From Johnny’s perspective, your body was a treasure, and he knew its map by heart. All of your weaknesses were on display in his mind and he could choose whichever one he wanted to use to his advantage. He knew what felt good and what felt earth-shattering, and judging from the way you throttled his cock, this was the latter.

Neither you or Johnny talked too much during sex. It was difficult to speak when you were being fucked divested of every little thought you possessed and your mouth was too busy producing other noises.

And all Johnny hoped was that his body could say everything that words could not.

He couldn’t think of anyone else when he was with you, and when you were with someone else, you were still thinking of Johnny. Given the amount of nights you had spent searching for one-night stands you were no stranger to sex, but Johnny made it feel different. The emotions were stronger and so was the yearning. The two of you fucked each other like you had never wanted anything so badly before in your lives.

Johnny struck you somewhere deep and you rasped, “Fuck, baby.”

Fuck, he felt good. Even though you were prone to running away, there was no doubt that you would find yourself coming back for more. Johnny was your home and your heart would always drag you back to him. He owned your body. Whatever he desired to do with you - to you - you would let him. At the end of the day, you were his. Whether he knew it and you accepted it or not.

It wasn’t a choice. It was a feeling.

Looking at the dazed expression on your face gave him deja vu. The first time Johnny had sex with you, he genuinely thought that his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He was nervous, but if anything, dedicated. He vowed to himself that he would learn the ways of your body and put your pleasure before his. Which he did.

It was college, months before you met your soon-to-be ex, and you were freshmen. Giving your virginity to one another was one of the most unsurprising things that you two had ever done. At least back then, you were thick as thieves and did everything together. Who better to give it to than the one you could always bet on?

He still remembered that night like it was yesterday. All of your friends were going to a party, but you snuck inside his dorm while his roommates were away. One thing led to another and soon you were writhing beneath him, calling out his name like it was the only word you knew.

His feelings for you only heightened.

Johnny could still remember how heartbroken he was when you got with another man again - and how angry he was when he broke your heart just like the last guy. The emotions were so prominent that he could still feel them now. How long would it take you to realize that the man meant for you was already right by your side?

Even if he wasn’t the perfect match for you, Johnny knew deep down that he could love you better, because he already had without even needing to be in a relationship with you. Maybe if those boys had treated you right, then he could have came to peace with the fact that fate wasn’t on his side and you weren’t meant to be. But watching you cry after other men treated you like nothing only fed his flame.

“You close, baby?” Johnny asked, aiming to take you over the edge. His number one goal was to drive you out of your mind.

You could only nod, willing yourself not to speak. The words that would have left your mouth if you did were unimaginable.

Johnny fucked you even harder, chasing relentlessly for your orgasms. And you were just as - if not more - eager. He fought a complacent simper as he admired the way you were maneuvering your hips against his, whimpering with every touch.

The look on his face made you run your tongue over your dry lips. Barely were you resisting the urge to smash your lips against his. That look alone made you want to milk him dry of everything he was worth.

As badly as you wanted to savor every last moment, you could feel it in your bones that your orgasm was approaching. Listening to the noises resounding throughout the bathroom was what finished you - the sounds of your moans and Johnny’s hips slapping into yours with every thrust drowning out that of the shower pouring down on you both. You convulsed with release, gripping Johnny’s biceps for dear life as you met your orgasm with a high-pitched cry of his name.

Johnny wasn’t too far behind you. He couldn’t even grunt at the feeling of your nails digging into his flesh - it was outweighed by that of the pleasure of you clenching tightly around him with orgasm. It triggered his own, and he held you bruisingly tight as he spilled inside you with the lowest groan he could muster.

“You okay?” Johnny asked the moment you both were in the clear to speak.

You nodded weakly. “Perfect.”

Johnny smiled.

The two of you actually showered once you had caught your breaths, occasionally interrupting the other with a kiss. When you got out of the shower and re-dressed, Johnny pinned you to his bedroom wall and enveloped your lips in the biggest kiss yet. It was noticeably different from the other kisses that you had shared as of late. They were lustful and impatient. This was slow and steady - like he wanted nothing more than to savor the very taste of you.

He pulled away and whispered adoringly, “I love you.”

Your brain immediately went into overdrive. Given that you were childhood best friends, of course you and Johnny had said that you’d loved each other before. That was indubitable and not to be questioned. But this was different. This was in the context of a post-sex I love you.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Johnny bristled. “I do mean it. I love you.”

Sighing, you walked off to his bed. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

He stared at you incredulously, and reminded, “I’m not them.”

It was obvious who them was. Your past lovers. The ones that had left you so heartbroken that you could no longer let anyone inside your glass heart.

You shook your head, voice small when you replied, “I don’t know that.”

Johnny was visibly offended and upset. “How can you say that?”

“I don’t want to fight, John,” you said, exhaling loudly. This had escalated far too quickly and everything was heading in the wrong direction. For as long as you could, you wanted to steer clear of this course. But deep down, you knew that it had been inevitable.

He ignored you, walking closer to you and pestering, “I need answers. Do you really think I don’t love you?”

“Johnny…”

He didn’t relent. “Answer me.”

Frustrated, you shouted, “I don’t know what to think, Johnny! I’m scared to trust people - you know this!”

“And do you think I deserve to be punished for that?” Johnny snapped, white-hot rage seeping through and his restraints falling loose. “You and I both know I’m not just ‘people.’ We’ve known each other longer than you knew them. I’ve been here with you, for you, for a goddamn eternity. When have I ever let you down, huh? Tell me!”

His tone made you flinch and you were given whiplash. Johnny rarely got upset and never did he ever yell at your face, even if you sometimes deserved it. He was patient with you. For him to finally snap meant that you had wounded him deeply.

“I’m scared,” you croaked, teary-eyed.

“Right, you’re scared,” Johnny groused, turning around and heaving a thick breath. “Forget it.”

Pain burned through your chest in flares much like the anger spreading like wildfire throughout Johnny’s. Goddamn, this hurt. Was love supposed to be so complicated? Was love supposed to ache like this?

It hurt so good to love Johnny.

You stood up and shook your head. “No,” you told him, demanding, “Get it off your chest. Everything you want to say to me - say it right damn now!”

It wasn’t for you. No, you knew that the following words to come out of his mouth were going to scar you indefinitely. It was for Johnny. You knew that he had been holding all of this back for a long time and now this was his chance to erupt his heart volcano.

Johnny stormed right back over and said, “You want me to be honest?”

You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. He deserved it. You deserve it. You treat him like shit.

“Fine. I’ll be honest,” he seethed. You gulped, bracing yourself for his words to come. “You wanna know something? You’re so fucking selfish. You’ve been breaking my heart just because you’re trying not to get yours broken.”

That was true. You had been sacrificing his feelings in an effort to preserve yours and it was a futile plan - Johnny had already crawled his way inside your heart, yet you were still trying to keep him out.

“You have too much pride to show people your scars and that’s why every time I get closer, you push me away. Because all you know how to do is run like a coward. That’s what you’ve resorted to your whole life because you don’t know any better. But you can’t hide.”

You bobbed your head, willing yourself not to speak. Both of you needed this.

Johnny’s voice got lower as he said, “You think you can hide, but you can’t. You can’t fucking drink all your problems away. You can’t fuck them away, either. You can’t keep running to me and using me to dry your goddamn tears every time you realize all your problems are still there!”

“Johnny…” you called out through tears. As true as his words were, they stung. And guilt was eating at you from the inside.

“No. You fucking asked for this shit,” Johnny snapped, scowling. “I’ve been nice to you and patient with you, but all you do is take me for granted. And it hurt when you said you didn’t think I loved you, because I could have stopped putting up with your bullshit and cut you off a long time ago - but I didn’t. You know why? Because I fucking love you. And walking away would hurt as much as it does to stay.”

You told him softly, “I love you, Johnny.”

“Do you love me enough to stay?”

The room got silent. Did you? You knew that you wanted to, but damn was it hard. You were just so goddamn scared of hurt and betrayal. You had been left before and it broke you. It shredded you to the tiniest of pieces. But Johnny made you feel complete and whole again.

“Answer me. So I know if it’s time we move on,” Johnny commanded, impatient. “Am I just some booty call to you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“That I need you!” you screamed, the tension getting to your head - and your heart. It was too goddamn much. “I can’t live without you, Johnny. I can’t. I won’t. I’m scared because I don’t want to lose what we have. Losing you would be like losing the other half of me.”

Johnny got in your face again, but instead of yelling at you, he smashed his lips against yours. Just like that, you were relieved of the burden of all your fears and worries. He absorbed them and kept them somewhere safe, just like he did with all of your other secrets.

He kissed you with an emotion that was unmistakable - love. So much love. Maybe you had been blind to it before, but you could see it all clearly now.

Johnny was in love with you. And you were in love with Johnny.

“You’ll never, ever lose me,” Johnny swore in your ear once he detached himself from your mouth. He wiped at your tears with his thumb. “I promise. You’ve got me for life, alright?”

With a couple nods of your head, you crashed into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you snugly, welcoming your touch. This was where you were meant to be.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized after a couple of moments. It didn’t undo the pain you had been inflicting upon him for years, but it was a starting point for something better.

Johnny held you closer and kissed your forehead, then whispered softly, “I forgive you.”

He shouldn’t have, though you were grateful that he did. If it weren’t for his tenderheartedness, you weren’t sure what you would do.

“Let me be yours,” you sang.

It was tempting. You were offering him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter. Granted, it didn’t take much to satisfy him - all he wanted was you. But as much as he wanted you, he wanted the most authentic version of you.

“Not yet,” Johnny said. You gawked, but he finished before you could interject, “I want to be in a relationship with you, but you need to take care of yourself first. Start tackling your problems. For starters, figure out what you’re going to do about your dad. Okay?”

You exhaled a long breath, but eventually nodded. “Okay.”

Johnny fought a content smile. “I’ll support whatever decision you choose to make,” he assured, pulling you closer to his chest. Then, he glanced down and asked, “Now - are you gonna run away or are you gonna stay the night?”

“I’m going to confront my fears and stay with you,” you whispered, refusing to separate yourself from the warmth of his body. You weren’t sure how you had done it before in the past. Tonight had given you an epiphany.

“Atta girl,” Johnny praised and led you to his bed. You flopped to his side, snuggling to his chest. “I have to go to work in the morning. Promise me I’ll wake up to your pretty face for motivation.”

You giggled, your laughter ringing through his mind beautifully. “I’ll be there. I promise, baby.”

Johnny was beaming from ear to ear. God, you loved seeing him like this. Happy. And he was happy because of you.

He couldn’t wait to wake up beside you in the morning.

Given their engagement, Yuta and Winwin were to have plenty of parties and the betrothal party was only one of many. Today marked the day of the housewarming party.

Their engagement meant that their relationship had developed into something serious. With marriage rapidly approaching, they were certain that they wanted to spend every moment of their lives together. And thus, they decided to move in with each other.

Which was how their new home came to be.

Guests spread out and filled the house to its brim, most of the ones you didn’t recognize being associates of Sicheng. After a couple of hours, you got off of your feet and went to rest in the living room.

And when you saw two very familiar men approaching you, you knew that you would be doing anything but resting.

“Oh no.”

Jaehyun and Ten sang in harmony, “Oh, yes.”

Watching the two of them take seats beside you, you could only wonder what in tarnation they were up to. Jaehyun and Ten were individual wildfires all by themselves, so you weren’t sure if you were ready to face the aftermath of combining the pair. Part of you was certain something would blow up in flames.

Narrowing your eyes, you asked cautiously, “What do you two bloodthirsty leeches want?”

“Chill, babe. We just wanted to hang with our favorite friend,” Jaehyun said. Given the untamed smile on his face, you highly doubted that. Jeong Jaehyun was nothing if not sheer trouble. And his partner in crime, too.

Ten nodded his head in confirmation. “Right,” he smirked, then pointed to the cup beside you. “What’s that - Bacardi?”

“Ha, ha,” you responded, deadpan. “No, bitch. It’s water. Contrary to an oddly popular belief, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Jaehyun interjected, “Babe, I can’t tell the difference between you and an alcoholic. That’s a problem.”

“What he said. I can hear your liver screaming ‘Ten, help me. Help me. Please…’”

You snapped, “Did you guys just come over here to terrorize me or is there something meaningful you have to say?”

Jaehyun leaned and asked quietly, like he was telling you a top-notch secret, “It’s because of Johnny, right?”

You spluttered, “What?”

He smiled, adding, “Don’t worry - you can tell me. Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, enough of the bullshit. Fess up,” Ten groaned in your other ear. Meanwhile you were thinking of ways to remove yourself from the Jaehyun-Ten you were between. “Something happened between you and Johnny. Something good.”

It wasn’t a question. He was saying that something happened and he knew it - he just didn’t know what. Yet.

You bit your lip. “Why do you say that?”

“Johnny’s been doing better lately, too. He’s been smiling more and in a better mood recently,” Ten replied, a spark of something raw and tender in his voice. “I like seeing him this way. It feels like I got the old Johnny back.”

Jaehyun nodded, all of the signs of jokes and games gone from his eyes. His expression was nothing short of soulful. “Me, too. There’s clearly been a shift. And whatever happened between you two, I hope it doesn’t shift back. He’s in a good place right now and so are you.”

Johnny had been happier lately. Everywhere he went he stood like a tall beam of light, radiating energy and warmth. And you two technically weren’t even together yet.

There was no way in hell that you would mess that up again. True to your promise to Yuta, you wouldn’t make the same mistake thrice. You had learned from your wrongdoings and decided that you were going to treat Johnny’s heart the same way you wanted others to treat yours. With caution and hypervigilance.

He deserved to be loved. Every bit of him. And you loved him to pieces.

“I won’t mess it up,” you assured them, confident. You knew what you wanted. And though you were still scared to go after it, you were willing to face your fears for Johnny. “I swear.”

Ten and Jaehyun smiled contentedly and replied in sync, “Good.”

Across the house, Johnny was having a similar conversation with your friends. And you were none the wiser.

“Hey, tough guy!” Yeri called out, grabbing Johnny’s attention. If it weren’t for the fact that she had bestowed the nickname upon him ages ago and was hellbent on sticking to her guns, he would have kept walking. She folded her arms across her chest and said, “Let’s talk.”

Johnny flickered his eyes between Yeri and the woman beside her - Irene - and a terrible feeling settled in his chest. Reluctantly, he admitted lightheartedly, “I feel unsafe.”

Both women responded in unison, “Good.”

He brought his plastic cup from his lips, then asked, “What’s this about?”

“You and y/n,” Irene said, eyeing him suspiciously.

Yeri wasted no time. “Are you two dating?”

On cue, Johnny’s heart seemed to boom at the mere thought of being in a relationship with you. As much as he wanted to make you his that night and as terribly as he fought against his every irrational decision, it wasn’t convenient timing. He wanted you to heal before anything.

Johnny feigned indifference, replying honestly, “No, we’re not. Why?”

Irene sat on the couch nearby, glancing off pensively. “She’s been… better again. She told us that she wouldn’t be drinking again for a while and she’s been opening up to me more and I’m proud of her. I just thought that it might’ve had something to do with you. You’re one of the biggest influences in her life, you know?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded. “I know.”

“And considering you haven’t given me the side eye yet, I think you’ve been happier, too.”

Johnny chuckled.

Then, Yeri cut to the chase and warned aggressively, “Take care of her, Johnny. I trust you, but you know how she can get. And if you break her heart, so help me I will…”

Irene reached for her friend’s hand and quickly interjected, “Yeri, I think they’re gonna be okay.”

Gladly, Johnny thought so, too. Things were far from perfect, though they were still going well and he was simply content to see that you were giving the two of you a try. He was tired of giving more than he was receiving and he had faith that those days were coming to an end.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Johnny repeated, assuringly. He believed it. He believed in you and him together. “But I appreciate all of your concern.”

Arms still folded and eyes still narrowed, Yeri eased up and nodded. Content, she walked off.

Irene rose from the chair and gazed up at Johnny, whispering softly, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being patient with her,” she replied, full of gratitude. Then - in an even tinier voice - she added, “And for doing what I couldn’t have done.”

Johnny said with no hesitation, “I would do anything for her.”

“I know. You’re strong.”

“So are you.”

Irene smiled. With that, she went to go meet back up with the rest of the girls.

Over the course of the following couple of weeks, you had been putting your all into becoming a better person. You kept to your word, steering clear of alcoholic beverages - more especially in mentally trying times - and you vented to your friends whenever necessary. They didn’t mind one bit. Anything was better than your typical methods of extreme self-destruction.

The passionless hook-ups came to an end, too. Johnny and you had never been exclusive, and though you weren’t yet together, it was impossible to do as much as imagine yourself with another person. Johnny’s touch was the only one that you wanted to feel on your body. You wanted to feel the way he poured his heart out to you whenever you had sex.

You wanted love. You wanted passion and fondness and intimacy.

And Johnny delivered.

After a while, you came to a decision about your father. One day, you chose to answer. In those that followed, you stalled to the best of your ability, still indecisively wavering over the option to meet him in person.

But the conversations, both through text and over the phone, swayed you. It broke you to hear his voice and vice versa. Talking to him for the first time in decades was life-changing.

That was how you ended up outside of a restaurant, fast forward some weeks later.

Johnny helped you out of his car, walking you to the front of the building. Your fingers were interwoven, and he let you clutch his hand when you felt nervous. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

You nodded. Though you were sure, you were anxious. And you were grateful that he had so much power over you, to the point that his mere touch made you feel at ease again.

“I’m sure,” you said, clinging close to him.

“Breathe, baby,” Johnny whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your neck. “I’ll be right outside waiting for you. Okay?”

Waiting for you. What would you do without him?

Instead of replying, you whirled around and stood on your tiptoes, kissing his lips. Johnny kissed you back with fervor, holding you like you would fall if he were to let you go.

Through your heavy breaths, both nerve-induced and from the breathlessness of making out with him, you confessed gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Johnny replied without hesitation. It was a no-brainer. He loved you. So goddamn much. And that was exactly what you needed to hear. “Now go meet your old man.”

That was the last push you needed. You were standing on the threshold of a self-healing journey and that was what made you swing the gates open.

You approached the table your dad reserved. It must have been miles away, because when you got there, you couldn’t breathe.

Your father looked at you, face full of sincere emotion. He stared at you with so much awe, incredulous through and through. Tears threatened to fall from both of your eyes.

You croaked thickly, “Dad.”

“Princess,” he heaved back.

His arms were wide open and you raced in, desperate. The tears began to rain. You couldn’t even remember the last time that your father had held you. This is what you had been missing. During all those heartbreaking times, this is what you needed most.

Soon, he began to apologize profusely, voice bursting with shame and regret. There was absolutely no satisfactory explanation that he could offer you - you just needed to know that although he couldn’t take it back, he would do whatever it took to earn your forgiveness.

And once you reached closure, you were talking as if the past had never happened and he had always been there.

Your father looked at you and sighed - contentedly. He shook his head, all sullen when he stated, “You’re a woman now.”

You quipped, “And you’re an old man.”

Your father chuckled. He was adapting to your humor very quickly. Perhaps there was a reason why.

After a moment, he asked curiously, “That boy outside your boyfriend?”

“His name’s Johnny,” you smiled, teary-eyed, then confessed, “You should meet him some day.”

“Do you love him?”

There was not a bout of reluctance. “So much.”

“Then, I will.”

You beamed.

There was no holding you back, no reason not to say it proudly anymore. Johnny was yours and you were his. His heart would always belong to you and yours to him. That was the way it was supposed to be. Meant to be.

And some day, your Dad would be walking you down the aisle to the man of your dreams.

[anamenooneowns]

BEING RAFE'S GIRL✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

an: i realized that the 'being ___'s girl' doesnt actually fit what i'm writing bc youre not their girl yet so imma change the titles most definitely bc i dont like it. um, so this is actually you being rafe's gf. not just meeting him. enjoy!

warnings: toxic!rafe, toxic!reader, name calling (bitch), you deck rafe in his shit so physical abuse, talk of drug use (coke), verbal abuse, lowkeyyyyy sub!rafe i dont make the rules, angst☹️, accusation of cheating

DNI IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO. THIS BLOCK BUTTON GOES BRAZY

No one knew how it happened, to be honest. Not that it was anyone's business why Rafe was dating you, a 'Kook poser'. But was it really so bad to be a girl who just wanted to live well?

Besides, before you met Rafe, you worked your ass off for everything that you had. A new Telfar bag dropped that you wanted? You damn near didn't sleep with the overtime you were doing at your job. Your credit card? Never not paid. Wanted a new set of nails? You sat your ass down and learned how to do them yourself.

Hyper-independence was your middle name and you wore it well.

Sometimes, it seemed your boyfriend needed to be reminded of that though.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you talking to, Ra-fa-el," you mushed his head with the pad of your index finger and watched his face get red from your exaggerative pronunciation of his full name, "but it's not fuckin' me."

His eyes were dilated and he reeked of that disgustingly expensive alcohol that Kelce gave him. His hand shot out, snatching you toward him as he sneered down at you. "Y-y'know, for someone who gets everything they want from me you don't fucking-" he barked, breathing out a humorless laugh as he shook you- "show me any goddamn respect. You get caught chatting up so-some loser and get mad at me for being a trashy, Pogue, whore-"

Rafe grunted as his head snapped back because you didn't smack him. You just socked the absolute fuck out of him. "God- dammit!" He touched his nose with a trembling hand and pulled it away to look at the blood that was already leaking down his philtrum and spread between the crevice of his lips.

He doesn't get a chance to speak again because you grab his jaw, acrylics biting into his face and squishing the meat of his inner cheeks against his teeth painfully.

You got real close to his face, eyes narrowed and lips curled into a snarl. "I don't fucking need you. I don't need you, or your coke-induced paranoia, or your goddamn daddy issues, or your fucking money. I wasn't 'chatting' that guy up, because he's my brother you idiot."

His lips parted an a hushed 'oh' fell from them as you snatched your hand away and scoffed in disbelief. "Are you serious? 'Oh'?" you mocked. "Not even an 'I'm sorry'? Better yet–getting on your knees and fucking begging for forgiveness? But of course not, that would be asking the world from Kook King, Rafe Camer...on," your voice died as you watched him slowly get on one knee, the other following.

His hand reached out and grabbed yours, bringing it to his pink, bloody lips to kiss your knuckles. Then he turned it over to press a kiss to your wrist... then your palm. His breaths were warm as they blew over your hand that he was now bringing to his face, his eyes softer now. So many times would you look at him and be staring into two voids that were nothing if not full of malice and something that made a person's soul ache.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I... I should've asked. I'm sorry, baby."

"Rafe-"

"I don't- I don't know what's wrong-" his voice wavered and his face pinched together as his skin flushed again, but not from anger but misery- "with me. I don't wanna be like this, I swear... m'not like this, okay? You believe me right?"

His other hand twisted itself into your dress, gripping your thigh. Words escaped you as you just let him pull you closer, and it was only natural when your arms cradled his head against your stomach.

Your heart was racing. You couldn't tell whether it was out of fear for this sudden, vulnerable turn or concern that this boy was hurting more than you thought inside. "Of course I believe you, baby," you whispered.

Wetness spread through your dress and the way he was trembling told you he was crying.

"I'll always believe you, Rafe... I'll always be on your side."

It took a while but he eventually got up from his knees, accepting your sweet, glossy kisses to his wet face as you apologized for hitting him. Somehow, you convinced him to just stay at Topper's house and sleep off what was in his system, and through your exchanged gazes it was unsaid that a break was needed between the both of you.

And the next morning, when you woke up and got dressed to go grab the mail, a bouquet of white yarrow flowers and purple hyacinths. The note inside was in his cursive handwriting.

I'll always wait for you

R. C.

an: comments and reblogs appreciated!

[fruitmins]

For You | yoongi

➭ summary: in which Yoongi is the son of a big business man and is now the CEO of the million dollar company so naturally he grew up distant and stern. But suddenly, his attitude changes when he meets you, a local kind hearted stripper that catches his curiosity. He finds himself lost in your smile and warm spirit, despite him being the opposite. But he’s willing to let down his walls for you..

➭genre: oneshot, strangers to lovers, stripper reader, slowburn-ish, fluff

➭warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence & blood, tsundere-ish tbh, didnt check the spelling, yoongi is stalker-ish but that’s ok, daddy issues

➭note: don’t ask me why this takes place in winter💀 senior year of high school + writers block + I’m lazy. i like half of this and i hate half of this. omg yoongi going to the military I’m gonna cry & throw a fit

Yoongi put his cold hands in his pockets, small snowflakes falling from the sky as he stepped out of the dirty and vulgar parking lot. He ignored all of the horny thugs who were making out with hookers outside as he headed to the dimly lit building.

SEASAW

The word was lit on top of the building and for some unknown reason, Yoongi had been drawn to it for weeks. He knew there were better clubs than this one, and he’d most likely be seen and on some headline by the time he stepped in the door but tonight, he didn’t care.

His mind went back to the fight he had with his dad on the phone as he stepped through the door, some terribly made whiskey in mind.

A breeze washed over him as the door closed with a loud thud, it was at least a little warmer than the cold air outside. Yoongi glanced around taking in the symphony of multicolored lights illuminated the air, casting a vibrant palette across the dance floor. The room throbbed with an infectious energy, resonating with the beat of the music that reverberated through every corner.

Soon, his eyes found the bar, a couple of nicely dressed men sat at the stools. Without another thought, Yoongi strutted to a seat, leaving an empty space to separate himself and another man.

“Whiskey.” He said in a deep raspy voice despite how the woman working was already in the middle of making another drink.

“Yoongi!” A older sounding man suddenly called out of him, making his head turn to the man on the stool next to him. He recognized the man as one of his dad’s friend.

Perfect. He scoffed to himself, hoping his drink would came faster.

“Now what are you doing in a bar like this?” The man asked with a scratchy laugh, hitting his shoulder.

Yoongi tried to let out a small chuckle that ends up sounding dry. “Same as you.” He spoke, turning back to the bar when he hears the bartender loudly slam his drink on the counter.

He goes to take a large swig as the old man continues to chat and laugh with him, his reeking odor hitting his face as he turns to look back at him.

Behind the old man, Yoongi notices the dance floor. Bodies moved in sync with the rhythm, twisting and gyrating, surrendering themselves to the intoxicating melodies. But one soul figure seemed to catch everyone’s attention on stage.

Slowly, he started to tune out the annoying old man the more closely he watched. But unlike the other men in the bar, he watched with curiosity rather than lust. Your movements were elegant and graceful, your tight crop top and glittery skirt making every sway of your body seen.

Your hands played in your hair and caressed your body as your body moved, painting a mysterious story about you with help of the music. Your eyes closed and a bright warm smile on your face as if no one else was there.

Despite dancing in a shabby club probably to make ends meet, you were dancing as if this was your long time dream.

“Her?” The old man’s itchy voice suddenly came back to him, pointing to you on the stage. “That’s Y/N. She’s kinda a favorite here.” He said and this made Yoongi even more intrigued.

“Has she worked here long?” Yoongi asked glancing back at the old man as he nodded. “Almost a full year.” He said and everyone clapped and whistled as you suddenly came down from the stage with a warm smile.

Yoongi just hummed before quickly finishing his drink before paying the bartender and leaving, deciding to dismiss the thought of talking to you.

But at weird hours of the day Yoongi would think about you, so every time he happened to pass the club he went in and watched you perform.

This happened for weeks. He never said a word to you, he never went further than the bar. Until one day when you had stepped off the stage, looking cheerful as usual, only to be met with two men meeting you half way.

Yoongi watched, his blood starting to boil as the man surrounded you, complimenting you and touching your hair. It didn’t take them long before they got more physical, grabbing your arm to stop you from walking away as they started to trail closer to you so that their body touched yours.

Yoongi can see the panic and fear settle in your face before his vision was blocked by the taller men.

Without thinking, Yoongi practically sprung up from the stool, furious as he made his way over to where the men had circled you.

“Move.” He said, his voice deep and hoarse as the two men slowly turned around to face Yoongi.

“Mind your business, hot shot.” One man spoke, obviously trying to spook Yoongi which only wanted to make him laugh.

“I’m not going to waste my breath telling you again.” Yoongi said simply, remaining calm as he watched the two turn irritated.

“You wanna get jumped punk?” The man said, raising his voice as he stepped closer to Yoongi.

Instantly and without warning, Yoongi’s right arm swung in the air. His already clenched knuckles that were in his coat pocket suddenly flew out and connected to the guys face, all of his pent up angry unleashing.

Before anyone can react, he punched him a second time, this one making him stumble to the ground with a yell of pain.

The other man quickly backed away with his hands in the air, “I don’t even know that guy.” The man claimed before quickly rushing off.

Yoongi looked up from the ground where the other man was laid, his nose now bleeding heavily as Yoongi stepped over the body, ignoring his groans when he did so.

“You alright?” Yoongi spoke, his expression softening as he meets your eyes. His eyes glazed around your face as he inspected you, trying not to get lost in your gorgeous and unique features as he looked for any sign that they had touched you.

“I’m fine.” You muttered back, out of breath from shock as you looked at the man on the group and then up at him with wide eyes.

“Thank you.” You say with a polite bow, taking a moment to collect yourself before a small smile appears on your face.

“What?” Yoongi asked, curious on why you were suddenly smiling and chuckling despite everything.

“Well, I was wondering when you were going to come talk to me.” You say with a teasing smile only making Yoongi more confused. As if reading his expression you chuckle. “You think I haven’t noticed you always coming in here and watching me?”

Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek, shrugging lightly as he looked away. “I don’t care if you noticed or not.” He spoke in a defensive tone, harsher than intended. He saw the smile on your face drop slightly in disappointment and he bit the inside of his cheek harder out of frustration. He didn’t want to be responsible for a frown on your face when you always wore a smile.

Wordlessly, Yoongi took out his wallet, taking out three hundred dollar bills and holding his hand out for her to take.

Your eyes widen in shock, chuckling nervously as you shake your head, denying it. “Why..?” You start to question, getting a little suspicious.

“For the inconvenience, and all the dances I’ve watched without tipping.” Yoongi states with a serious expression, trying to cover up any other intentions he might of had.

“You just have that much on you at all times? That’s risky.” You respond, still hesitant to take the money. Yoongi lets a smile crack at the irony, “I’ve been watching you for weeks and that’s what your worried about?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want a favor in return or something?” You ask him, still skeptical as Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I guess we’ll never know if you don’t take the money.”

With a sigh, he watches as you slowly take the money out of his hands and put it in your pocket. “Thank you.” You mumble as he turns around and heads for the door. “Wait!” You call for him in confusion, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him as he turns around slightly.

“What’s the favor?” You ask in confusion but Yoongi just looks at you before continuing to walk out without a word.

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to wonder back into the club days after that. Despite the weird exchange it only made him want to get to know you more. But something in him grew colder when he walked in the club only to see you not onstage. Usually around this time you had already started and had a small crowd of men watching you.

“Whiskey.” He ordered in a lower tone as he sat down, tapping impatiently on the counter as he waited. “This was stupid.” He mumbled to himself, ashamed of how he had gotten caught up with this stripper and was just about ready to leave it all behind.

“Min Yoongi! You’re back!” He heard your familiar voice right next to him, causing his head to turn to the side in confusion.

“What are you doing here?” He asked his finger slowly stopping as he looked at you, sat next him in the bar.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I know your name?” You reply instead, wiggling your eyebrows playfully. “I assumed you already knew.” Yoongi spoke calmly, lightly shrugging even.

“Cocky much?” You reply, jokingly rolling your eyes with a smile. “How did you find out, if not the internet?” Yoongi asked curiously, as the bartender slams his whiskey on the counter.

“Well when the son and CEO of a million dollar company starts to take notice to the best employee in the club, word gets around.” You reply with a slight grin and Yoongi can’t help but chuckle a little.

“Cocky much?” He echos your words as he sips on his whiskey and this only widens your grin further. Yoongi stares into your smile, feeling a weight being lifted off his shoulders when he realizes it’s been a while since he actually genuinely smiled for once.

When he finishes his drink he takes out his wallet and pays for the bad alcohol before taking out another three hundred and handing it to you, not waiting for you to take it this time.

“This has to be your way of flirting with me.” You mumble in disbelief as you stare at the bills before reluctantly shoving it in your skirt.

Yoongi scoffed, shaking his head in disagreement. “I don’t have time to flirt.” He mumbled firmly while looking at his empty glass.

“You have time to come here.” You differed causing him to bite the inside of his cheek, standing up and dusting himself off. “Wait that didn’t mean leave!” You state quickly getting up with him and Yoongi can’t help but glance at the sudden look of displeasure and sadness on your face as your hand brushes against his as you attempt to stop him.

“I..actually like having you here. You make me feel safe.” You mumble sheepishly as Yoongi stood there, completely frozen as he took in your words. How had he, of all people, made you feel safe? In a run down place like this?

“Then your standers are low.” He said in a low voice, a hint of playfulness in his tone as you look back up at him, snickering at his comment.

“You say that, but under that frown and sharp eyes is a warm hearted gentleman.” You speak causing him to look away from you, not wanting to take your words seriously. He didn’t want to show any signs of vulnerability, he’d never be ready for anything heavy.

“You don’t believe me?” You challenged him, seeing his silence and he heard the heard an underlying tone in your voice when you asked. “If I asked you to walk me to my car, you’d hundred percent do it.”

Yoongi scoffed and rolled his eyes at you, but quickly knew not to didn’t deny it. “See! You would.” You grinned at his sour expression, knowing you were right.

“Whatever, do you want to be walked to your car or not?” He asked trying to dismiss the fact all together. He had never seen himself in a situation like this, feeling embarrassed and maybe bubbly.

You laughed at the question but nodded, grabbing your nearby coat that was filled with stains as you attempted to squeeze your shoulders in the coat.

Yoongi rolled his eyes, walking in front of you as he leaded the two of you out of the door and to your car. Yoongi sighed as he looked at the state of it, effortlessly taking out his wallet and starting to count some bills.

“If you’re going to give me more money don’t bother.” You quickly said as the two of you made it to your car, stepping in front to him and holding onto his hand so he would stop rummaging through his wallet.

“I don’t need it, I’m fine!” You tried to convince him and he simply raised an eyebrow at you, before going back to counting, taking out a couple hundreds as he did so.

“Then consider it flirting.” He mumbled in a flat tone, taking out five hundreds and getting ready to hand it to you.

As he looked back up from his wallet he felt something soft touch the corner of his lips, eyes widening in shock when he realizes how close you were to him and before he could stop it, you had planted a gentle kiss on the corner of his lips.

Your lips lingered on his skin for a couple seconds before finally pulling away from him, taking a step back.

“Come back tomorrow, okay?” You say with a warm smile, practically glowing in front of him as you spoke to him in a soft low tone.

Silently, Yoongi watched you chuckle at his reaction before getting into your car and slowly driving off, his heart thumping as he watched your car drive off onto the road.

He slowly started to move again when your car was far away enough that it was out of view, as if snapping him out of a trance.

Yoongi could feel himself getting lighter, warmer. He could feel his muscles relax as he took his hands out of his coat pocket.

[daisynik7]

Hii how are you? Hope you are doing well! I have a request. Kento Nanami x f!reader? Where f!reader and kento nanami are happily married but the reader is shy and kinda have daddy issues. Can you please make it comforting,loving and add NsFw.

Pairing: husband!Nanami x f!reader

cw: established relationship (married), angst, reader has some daddy issues, smut – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.3k

Summary: Nanami starts coming home later than usual, claiming he’s working overtime. You start to become suspicious, so you decide to confront him about it.

Author’s Note: Zella! I’m so sorry this took SO LONG. I took a break from all the pending requests in my inbox because of life and to work on my other series. Thank you for your patience with this and for sending this request in! I appreciate you so much!! I hope you like it!

About a month ago, Nanami informed you that he’ll be working overtime at least twice a week. It struck you as odd, considering how much he despises work in general, let alone staying extra hours. However, you don’t question it. At least, for the first three weeks. 

This week, you start noticing subtle oddities whenever he comes home from these supposed “overtimes.” He arrives sweaty, hair disheveled, his clothes slightly wrinkled, as if they’ve been hastily stuffed into a bag and put on again. And before he eats dinner, he’ll take a quick shower. Maybe it’s your paranoia, stemming from childhood trauma when your own father was caught in the act of adultery, resulting in your parent’s divorce. You try to dissuade yourself from thinking this way, knowing that Nanami is nothing like your unfaithful dad. He’s different. Right? 

Tonight, he’s even later than usual. This time, he’s too hungry to bathe, so he goes straight to the table, ready to eat. Your suspicions continue to nag at you. He realizes this immediately, keen on how quiet and shy you are at the dinner table, sliding your fork across your food idly. “Honey? Are you alright?”

You snap out of your thoughts, looking up at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” you answer, in the most unconvincing tone. 

His brows are furrowed, leaning forward with his elbows propped on the surface, studying you. “You’re not fine. What’s wrong?”

There’s dread building in your chest, too afraid to ask the question you don’t want to know the answer too, especially if the truth will break your heart. “Nothing, Kento. I’m fine.”

He gets up from his seat, kneeling beside you, cupping your cheek. “Sweetheart, please tell me what’s wrong.”

His touch always has you melting into him, gentle and sweet, loving and pure. You lean into his palm, nuzzling into it, and you’re so close to forgetting the whole thing all together. But then you get a whiff of it. Perfume. Lingering on the cuffs of his dress shirt, his fingers on your skin, the loose tie around his collar. It’s exactly like it was years and years ago; glimpses of your father, drenched in the stench of another women, denying your mother’s accusations until it was guilted out of him. You never thought it’d be Nanami, though.

You whack his arm away from you, taking deep breaths. “How could you?” 

He stares at you, confused. “What?”

“How could you cheat on me?!” you yell, tears streaming down your face. “After everything we’ve been through…How could you?”

His jaw drops, hands waving in front of him frantically. “Sweetheart, this is a big misunderstanding. I promise, I swear, I am not cheating on you.”

“You’re lying! I’m not dumb, Kento. I noticed how you come home, all sweaty, always in a rush to shower. To wash away your guilt. And I smell the perfume on you, it reeks. You can’t even hide it anymore.” You cross your arms over your chest, heaving, attempting to steady your breathing. 

He’s still kneeling before you, this time, hands in prayer, begging. “Sweetheart, please. Please, just listen to me. I can explain.”

“Then explain.”

He sighs, bowing his head in shame. It takes a couple of seconds before he admits in a stammer, “I’m…taking dance lessons.”

A minute passes for you to process this, considering how hyped on adrenaline you were moments ago. It’s enough time to calm down from the midst of your panic attack. “Dance…lessons?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

He nods slowly. “Yes. My instructor is Mrs. Ito. She’s quite fond of perfume. She’s also much older and married.”

“Mrs. Ito,” you repeat, shocked and embarrassed at your premature freak-out. 

“Yes, my love. And I have videos to prove it.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket, tapping at it until generic ballroom dance music starts blaring from the speaker. On the screen is Nanami, in workout clothes, performing a number in front of the mirror, back facing the camera. In the background is an elderly woman’s voice, shouting, “5-6-7-8 and hips, Nanami! Move your hips!” He pauses it once you clap your hand to your mouth, gasping. 

He chuckles, blushing. “Now you know why I kept this a secret.”

Now, you’re the one feeling guilt and shame. “Kento, I’m so sorry,” you apologize, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I know how much you love dancing. I was sick of having two left feet, so I decided to take lessons. I wanted it to be a surprise for our anniversary trip.”

You bury your face into his neck, sniffling. “And I ruined it. God, I’m a terrible wife, aren’t I?”

He embraces you, laughing. “Honey, you’re not at all. Given what you went through, I don’t blame you for jumping to that conclusion. It was very suspicious of me, I admit it. But you mean the world to me. I will nevercheat on you. I’d be a fool to ruin something this special. I love you too much.”

You smile, kissing his cheek. “I love you too. I’m a fool for even thinking you would. I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?”

“Honey, you don’t have to…”

“Maybe I can show you a few of my moves. If you’d like.” You kiss him on the mouth, gliding your tongue along his lips. 

He raises a brow, smirking. “Oh? What moves?”

You lead him to the couch, shoving him down to sit. He removes his tie completely, unbuttoning his shirt halfway with a naughty grin on his face, watching you. Straddling his lap, kissing his ear, you purr, “How about a lap dance?”

All he can do is nod, sliding his hands around your hips, squeezing at your bottom. You rock yourself on him, tongues swirling around each other’s, wet and sloppy with the rest of your dinner completely abandoned on the table. He delivers a firm smack on your ass, relishing the way your flesh jiggles from the contact. You grind on him harder, running your fingers through his hair, feeling his growing erection beneath you. 

“You’ll make it up to me, huh?” he coos, slipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants, reaching for your pussy. “I’ll prove to you how faithful I am. Never make you doubt me again.” His fingers rub at the wet spot leaking through your panties.

You shove the rest of your pants off, lifting your hips to slide them down your legs. “Fuck, baby,” you moan, bouncing on his lap. 

“Strip. Now.” He watches you undress, tossing all your clothes to the floor in a hurry, eager for his cock. “Do me next. Slowly,” he demands.

You follow his order, kneeling on the floor in front of him, unzipping and tugging at his pants until they’re pooled around his ankles. His cock is stiff in his briefs, the fabric tight along his shaft. He rubs his palm against it, grunting, “Rub your pussy on it. Make yourself come in your panties. Want them wet and creamy for me.”

Without hesitation, you hop back on, riding him with fabric still separating you, extremely horny. He focuses on you dipping slowly into him, biting his lip from the lewd sight. Soon, his thumb is against your clit, caressing it until you’re moaning incessantly, increasing the pace of your hips. “Fuck, Kento,” you whimper, voice trembling with arousal.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Come for me. Make a fucking mess,” he growls, flicking your swelling bud faster. His cock is rock hard beneath you, and you’re so wet, you’re convinced you’re leaking through his briefs, which are now spotted with his own precum. As you approach your orgasm, he slides his fingers past the fabric and directly onto your swollen clit, pinching it gently. You buck, arching your back and gasping from the sensation, reaching your climax. As you descend from your high, he slips into your slick cunt, coating his fingers in your cum, humming with satisfaction. “That’s my good girl. Always so fucking juicy for me. Can’t wait to taste it.” 

Needless to say, Nanami makes sure that you never doubt his faithfulness ever again. 

[kookslastbutton]

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m) || ch. III

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,375

Warnings: 8-year age gap, big flashback of bromance between Tae and JK, slight drunkenness, family drama in-laws, imperfect relationship with parents, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, mentions of therapy, kookie trying to be a good husband, needy kook 😶

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: chapter 3 is here! I know its so short 😩 but I promise it sets up the next chapters really well! Also, I wanted to get into jk's background a little this time, his undergrad days, and Taehyung of course. It's a big leap but they're older now so...meh. Tysm for everyone's patience! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

There weren’t many people Jungkook envied in his life. He was 34 years old, had top-notch experience as an economist within the business and legal sphere, and taught at one of the finest universities in South Korea. He also earned his Ph.D by the time he hit 30, which was undoubtedly the cherry on top.

But if there was one person who could shake the ground from under his feet it would be Kim Taehyung.

The pair met during undergrad through mutual friends. Jungkook had been invited to an off-campus party his first year and Taehyung was an unexpected third party. The man was so put together that it was as if Michelangelo himself reached down and sculpted him from the clay.

16 years ago

“Hi,” a low, baritone voice rumbles. “I’m Taehyung.” He sticks his hand out, waiting for a shake. He’s a little timid but mostly stands upright with a few pieces of his caramel hair falling over his eyes.

Jungkook chuckles at Taehyung’s stark formality. “What’s up, man!” He slaps Taehyung’s hand casually. “Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung reeks of sophistication and has the most annoyingly gorgeous face. His boxy grin could charm the pants off anyone who was two feet from him. Hell, even Jungkook feels a little starstruck by him.

Though barely acquaintances, it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to realize they are on opposite ends of the same stick.

Taehyung comes from a wealthy upper-class family. They have four mansions plus a beach house. Every Christmas, he goes to Italy to visit his aunt and uncle. For his 18th birthday, Taehyung got a brand-new Corvette, red with black rims. Everyone wants to be him…everyone wants a piece of Kim Taehyung.

But underneath the surface of his flashy lifestyle is something oddly endearing. Jungkook can’t quite put his finger on it but as the night goes on, he enjoys the man’s company. Taehyung seems to latch onto him as well which shocks both of them to the core.

“Seriously hyung,” Jungkook slurrs. “I don’t know why you’re hanging around me this whole night when you could be getting off with one of the fifty girls who’ve come up to you. Are you playing it cool are you really a loner or something?”

Taehyung snatches the beer bottle from the younger’s hand. “That’s enough drinking for one night Jungkook. You’re about to pass out, I can tell.”

“I’ll decide when I’ve had enough.” Jungkook grabs the bottle back, taking a big slug before wiping his mouth off with his arm. “Something to know about me Taetae. I live by the work hard, play hard kinda philosophy.”

Taehyung cringes at the pet name but chalks it up to Jungkook being off his rocker. “That’s the type of philosophy that’s gotten my family to spend millions on useless crap. It’s fun for a while but it never lasts. I don’t recommend it Jungkook.”

Jungkook snorts. “So you are a loner huh? Because my parents have been stuck in the same loop for years. All work, no play. It’s caused them both to lose every hair on their head. Do you wanna lose your hair by the time you’re 45 Tae? I wouldn’t think so with those luscious locks of yours. Bet some chick would love to yank on them while–”

“I’m not a loner.” Taehyung interrupts, feeling a surge of embarrassment creep up his cheeks. He knows the looks people shot at him and while he didn’t entirely hate it, it always took more than it gave. All he wanted in those moments was to retreat into himself with his paints. Taehyung loved art and like many, found it therapeutic. “I’m not a loner,” he repeats. “I’m just not interested.”

“Sure you’re not buddy.” Jungkook gives a nod but remains largely unconvinced. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why you hanging around me? I’m not that cool ‘cause if I weren’t here, I’d be at the library right now with my nose in the books. Economics doesn’t slap all the time you know.”

Taehyung is silent for a moment before answering.

“I feel like a normal person with you," he starts. "Everyone looks at me like I’m some spoiled golden boy who they can get a free ticket of off if they talk sweet. And yeah, I’m aware of the advantages I’ve had…the struggles most people have that I don’t. But I’m still a real person that wants what most people do...purpose, belonging, someone that just gets them.”

Taehyung takes a breath before continuing.

"I really fucking love painting. It’s my heartbeat honest to god and I’m tired of being looked at as merely an object of someone’s unfulfilled wishes and desires. I like that I don’t need to worry about that with you. I think...we come from different backgrounds but we’re cut from the same cloth Jungkookie. Oh, are you-are you crying?”

“Fucking beautiful Taetae. You’re straight out of Vanity Fair you know that? I’m more of a Forbes magazine guy myself though.”

Taehyung throws Jungkook a puzzled look. Is he being condescending or is this just the booze talking?

“‘Cause I’m a small-town boy with great ambition, intelligence, and gall? We covered this earlier man, keep up!” Jungkook emphasizes his words, hands flying about.

“Right,” Taehyung joins in, recalling the conversation. “You’re father is an analyst for the city and your mom’s an accountant. They want you to get a job nearby after graduation but you don’t want to because–“

“Because it’s too small, boring, set in its traditional ways, and I for one am not fucking with it.” Jungkook sends Taehyung a lopsided grin. “You got a pretty good memory man. Maybe we can be friends after all.”

“I’m so glad,” Taehyung drawls, a slight trace of sarcasm. Jungkook doesn’t notice, however, too busy staring at the strobe lights dancing across the ceiling.

“Hey!” he suddenly pipes up, eyes wider than before. "What are you doing next Friday?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Why?”

“I got this boring family reunion to go to. Happens every year. I don’t wanna go but my parents force me to. You wanna come?”

Taehyung hesitates. “A family reunion? I know I said we’re cut from the same cloth, but we’re not…related Jungkook.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll ask my parents if I can bring a friend. They won’t give a shit as long as I’m there. Also, I heard from my brother that Ha-Yun’s gonna be there.”

“And Ha-Yun is…?”

“Some girl that my parents want to set me up with. Family friend’s daughter. I went to high school with her.”

“So you think that if I’m there I can be your right-hand man or something? Make you look good in front of your future wife?”

“Fuck no. I’m hoping she’ll go to you instead.” Jungkook laughs when he sees the color draining from Taehyung’s face. “It’s nothing against her bro. She isn’t weird or anything. I say this lightly but, I just don’t wanna go out with her and she’s not my type.”

“I’ll think about clearing my schedule for this but I’m not being your meat on a stick,” Taehyung seethes. “But since we’re on this topic, what is your type?”

“Mm, not sure.” Jungkook shrugs. “Someone who’s unexpecting I guess. Like you shouldn’t be together because it's outside of the usual. But you can’t help it. You gotta have this person or it’s over. What about you?”

“Easy,” Taehyung mutters. “I like artists.”

“Artists huh? Like you? Well, I guess I can understand.” Jungkook smirks before leaning his head back against the couch. “One day, I’ll find an artist for you Tae. I promise.”

Oh, the irony.

present

“Jungkook, stop! I need to get up.” You struggle in his arms, biting back a grin. Jungkook has you in a locked position. His hard chest presses close against your back and his leg hugs your body.

“Mm,” he groans. “It’s not time yet.”

“Yes, it is. Also, you’re nearly suffocating me.”You wiggle your body but to no avail. Your husband always tends to get needier as the school year approaches.

"I just don't want you out of my arms yet. Is that a crime now?"

No. No it's not, you sigh to yourself. By this time next week, you’ll be waking up to an empty bed. "Okay." You glance at the alarm clock. "Ten minutes and then I really need to get ready for work."

"Fifteen," Jungkook mumbles.

"Twelve."

"Thirteen."

"No. It's twelve or I'm going now." Jungkook gives a cute grunt and tightens his grip. He really doesn't want you to leave this morning.

"Fine," he says. "Twelve. But we're snuggling again tonight."

"Jungkook. Can't. Breathe." Being spooned by your husband is nice but this isn't spooning anymore. He's completely cacooning himself over you. As soon you feel him shift his weight off you, hand loosening from your waist, your ribs hum in relief.

After what seems like three minutes of complete silence you decide to bite the bullet and ask the question that's been on your mind for the last couple of days.

"Um Jungkook?"

"Yeah?"

"When we went to get ice cream the other night. There was something that happened...to you." You're uneasy bringing it up but you can't shake your concern. When Jungkook saw the little girl with her dad, he went into a bit of a trance. He didn't talk, didn't move, and was pretty numb to your presence all together.

"Oh god," Jungkook groans. "I was hoping you didn't notice but you're my wife so I guess it's fine."

Crap. Was this a sore subject for him? You twist your head over your shoulder, just enough for your ear to be near his lips. You're in high alert now. "Why weren't you hoping I noticed?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's embarrassing." Jungkook smacks his lips before continuing. "But do we really have to talk about it? Spilling ice cream on my shirt at 34 isn't something I really wanna relive through early morning conversations."

Oh he thinks....of course he thinks that's what you're refering to.

"I'm not talking about you being clumsy Jungkook. I'm talking about the little girl with the ribbons. When she was with her dad, you kinda went a little frozen."

Jungkook doesn't reply immediately so you prod him a little. "I just wanna know if everything was alright. I suppose with our current situation I get it if it hit you in a sort of way. Good or bad, whatever the feeling was, you can tell–"

"They seemed happy is all," he croaks, voice dropping an octave. "The kind of happy that makes someone's entire soul stop, I guess. Like they had something special that no one else could. Does that make sense?"

If you look down you think you'll see goosebumps. The words coming from your husband's mouth are, at most, mumbles but they aren't coming from a place of unease or hesitation. Instead they allude to something warm, wholesome, and new.

"Yeah of course, it makes perfect sense. I had a similar experience when I met Si-woo. The way his face light up when he saw his mom comforted me but I felt envious too. Is that wrong of me?"

"Not at all. I think it's a natural response when you see something you want but don't currently have. You know, there was one thing that popped in my thoughts while I watched that father and his daughter..."

"Hm?"

"I thought, maybe I'll be happy too. If we actually have a kid, we'll be happy together like them or something." Yawning, he continues. "I dunno, honey. Kinda sleepy still so if I fall asleep I love you and I hope work goes well. But we can keep talking if you want."

You untuck your hand from under your head and close it over your husband's arm; the one draped around your waist.

Hope. Real hope.

"Dammit why won't you open?!" Jungkook bangs the jar on the side of the kitchen counter. He's been trying to get it open for the last five minutes. With you at work, it's his turn to prepare dinner.

"Take a breath kid," Yoongi says from the other line of the phone.

Jungkook ignores him of course, continuing beat the shit out of the jar in his hand. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You stupid jar!"

"Kid!" Yoongi tries again, this time grumbling. "Stop doing that and go get a butter knife or something to hit the side of the lid with. It'll pop right off and I won't sue you for making me go deaf."

"Hyung–"

"Oh I thought you didn't call anyone that anymore. Now that you're a real boy and all. With big boy things." Jungkook shakes his head, hearing the older man snort through the speaker.

"You been talking to Taehyung?" That big mouth, he's become as bad as Jimin. What happened to the more reserved Tae he met in undergrad. He likes him better than this new, cocky mf.

"He may have slipped out a thing or two. But I'm glad to see you're still scared shitless of me that you'll keep calling me hyung."

Jungkook slams the jar on the counter, having enough. "Why the fuck did you call hyung? Can't you tell I'm a little busy right now."

Yoongi chuckles. "Alright I'll stop picking on you. I need a favor. The wife and I want to go out just the two of this weekend. I know you got your professor duties starting but would you and __ be willing to look after our gremlins for a couple hours Saturday?"

"Uh–I'm gonna have to talk to __ about this but maybe?" You and him have babysat for Yoongi's twins a handful of times before. They get a little rowdy but it's been mostly fine. Jungkook's not sure if either of you have the energy or time this weekend though. "I thought you usually got a babysitter."

"Yeah, usually but they're unable to this weekend. I'm hoping this time the babysitter will be you and __. We won't be long but we'd really appreciate it if you guys could do this for us. Could you maybe let me know by Thursday if you can?" Yoongi waits for an answer.

"Yeah alright," Jungkook finally responds. "I'll talk to __ about it when she gets home. No promises though." Jungkook wipes the sweat from his brow. It was a little hot in the kitchen. "Listen Yoongi, I gotta get back to prepping dinner but thanks for that tip about opening the–"

"Jungkook! Hello?" A familiar but muffled voice hollers from the front door. "Are you home?" The door bell is pressed continually without rest.

"Uh my ears," Yoongi pipes. "Who the hell is at your door?"

Jungkook walks towards the front of the house, peaking out the window. What the fuck are those two doing here? "Damn it, I gotta go hyung. My parents have decided to pay an unexpected visit." Before Yoongi has time to reply, Jungkook ends the call.

fuckfuckfuckfuck, he repeats under his breath. Could they not have called beforehand? It's a friggen' ten hour drive. Did someone die or something? Why are they here?

"We can hear you Kookie," Jungkook's mother coos in a sing-songy tone. "No one died. We just wanted to see you and __."

Jungkook opens the front door, not even caring if his face shows he's pissed off. "Mother it'd be nicer if you, I don't know. Planned these things?!"

"I told you," Jungkook's father grippes. "I told you woman, didn't I? We should have called. You never listen to me!"

"Oh shut up you goat," Jungkook's mother pushes her way through the door and into the house. "My son loves me and he's happy to see me." She wraps her arms around Jungkook's waist and presses her cheek against his arm.

"Yeah," his father steps in the house. "He's just jumping with joy with that silly apron on. C'mon, he was obviously in the middle of something. Ugh I'm sorry son. Your mother is, well, you know how she is." He slips out of his shoes and shuffles to the kitchen. "Whatcha cooking anyway? Something good I bet."

Jungkook rubs his face in agitation. __ is not gonna like coming home to his parents running around the house.

"You're not mad at me are you?" His mother lifts her chin, big doe eyes just like his own. "We just missed you and we figured you'll be busy with teaching soon so...we just decided to drive down last night."

Trying to smile, Jungkook brings his arm around her. "No, no I'm not mad. I'm glad to see you and __ will be too."

"Jungkook, why the hell are your parents here?" You force yourself to keep a low voice. Your in-laws were steps away and they had the sharpest pair of ears you knew. You didn't want them to hear a single beat.

Your husband pulls at his hair, pacing small circles around the bedroom. "Trust me, I didn't invite them. They just showed up. I don't even know why they're here besides they just wanted to. I'm really sorry."

You yank your silk blouse over your head, tossing it in the hamper. "I love your parents but you're gonna need to tell them this can't be happening." You change into a basic t-shirt and jeans. "I know they're probably a little lonely with you and your brother so far away but I'd be a far better host with some pre-warnings."

"I know. Mom's just so-" Jungkook pauses, scratching his head. "Persistant...and dad will do whatever she wants."

"Look I get it. Saying no is hard when they just want to see us. But what if we had something going on tonight?"

"You're right, you're right," he sighs. "I'll try bringing it up to them."

"Anything else new happen while I was gone?" You mean it as a joke. You really do. Jungkook gives you a look that says yes though. Excellent.

"Well, uh...Yoongi hyung asked if we could babysit Saturday. Him and the Mrs want to go out but thier regular babysitter isn't available that night."

Groaning, your shoulders slope down. "Wha–uh at this rate why the hell not? I was just looking for more things to do."

"Honey," Jungkook makes his way over to you. "We don't have to if–"

"You guys still in there?!" Jungkook's mother intrudes, pounding on the door. "You better not be having coitus! Though grandchildren would be nice if that were to ever be in the cards."

"Coitus?" You mouth silently. Jungkook's parents were a little old fashioned sure but who the heck still says coitus?

"We'll be out in a second. Can you and dad set the table?" Jungkook responds, girmacing at his mothers word choice.

"Okay but wrap it up in there. I'm only here for two days. I wanna see my beautiful daughter in-law!"

You and Jungkook immediately exchange a slack-jawed expression. "What?" With the door thrown open, your husband's eyeborws furrow. "Mom you can't be serious."

"Oh don't look so worried!" The older woman lets out a restrained chuckle. "We're not gonna stay in the house with you or anything. We got a hotel. But ten hours is a long drive and I really wanted to see you. Your father and I don't hear from you often and you didn't come to the last family reunion. What do you expect us to do? Just not see our son?"

"Please don't say it like that Mom," Jungkook combs his fingers through his hair, teeth grinding together. "You know that __ and I are–"

"Always happy to see you!" You rush next to your husband who's startled by your sudden change in demeanor. "Jungkook's just been a little anxious about returning to the university. But we'd love to spend a couple to days with you and dad. Let's start with dinner!"

You usher everyone down the hall and towards the dining room. Jungkook's mother is filled to the brim with joy while your husband slightly, actually very, concerned.

A/N: Apologies for any editing errors! Also close to adding some spicy stuff but we gonna wait on that a little longer 😉 Lmk what you think and if you wanna join taglist comment or send an ask. Thanks!! 😙💗

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[l00rem]

Oh naaaaw they really went and gave him double daddy issues 💀💀

But Gibeon looks quite different to Amethio despite only being his grandad… when you compare liko and diana to amethio and gibeon it’s strange considering liko and diana resemble eachother so closely. Gibeon is more pink than purple and his hair is stylised completely differently, the outer pupil bit is shaped more triangular whilst amethio’s is just round. Also, looking even closer at gibeons eyes he has a white shine to it whilst amethio’s don’t, so has amethio actually had those depressed empty anime eyes the entire time but due to his white pupils we couldn’t tell until now? Maybe i’m just overthinking things 

It’s really interesting to me how differently amethio addresses his respective familial connections. He seems to really respect Gibeon, calling him ojji-sama, meanwhile he calls his dad chichi which is generally more neutral. He seems to be trying to distance himself from who is father was too which reeks of sooo much indoctrination someone please save his poor soul. I can see quite of few explanations for his lack of connection with his father; his father potentially learned of some dark truth and left but couldn’t take amethio for some reason, his father is dead but gibeon covered it up, or amethio never actually knew his father but was told about how he abandoned explorers once he joined. I wonder if Amethio tells himself that his feelings of bitterness towards his father are because he betrayed explorers, when in reality it’s because he’s the one who feels betrayed. 

Clearly there’s some reason amethio seems to have such strong loyalty towards Gibeon. They obviously don’t have a traditional bond, with Gibeon even remarking that it’s been awhile since they met like this which perhaps implies it’s been over a year since they met face to face, and yet amethio regards him so highly. And surprise surprise, the only time he cares to see his grandson face to face is when he’s asking him to continue serving his wishes, really selling himself as grandad of the year here.

This line particularly intrigues me and supports a hc i’ve been holding for awhile which is that amethio and gibeons blood line are descended from royalty of sorts. Perhaps then he intended to make rakua his kingdom, but that would mean destroying it in order to control it which lead to his subsequent falling out with Lucius. 

The way he phrases this is also really interesting to me- because it subverts the usual expected ‘heir to the throne’ and instead Gibeon just says heir of his blood. Which makes sense given that Gibeon seems to be intending to live forever, so he wants to keep playing as king for all eternity. So amethio is just a means to an end, someone to do all the hard work for achieving gibeons dreams and yet reviving little from it himself. 

I doubt this’ll happen but i’m gonna say it just to put it on the record- I wonder if we could potentially see this gibeon/amethio ancestor on the throne in the upcoming legends Z game? Considering Gibeon’s partner being a Zygarde and Kalos’s themes of royalty, potentially we could see the ruler that Gibeon is trying to emulate. Apart from new pokemon forms i don’t think the games have ever taken something from the anime before, but i think it’d make an interesting twist if they went that direction!

It’s pretty upsetting to see how heavily manipulated and indoctrinated Amethio is into explorers. I don’t have any doubts for his eventual redemption arc despite his yearning for power, but seeing how strong of a chokehold gibeon has on him it does make me wonder what’ll actually trigger it.  A lot of people compare amethio to zuko, but for zuko he could see physical evidence of how horrible the fire nation was through going around the world and having uncle iroh to guide him whereas amethio doesn’t really have either of those (zir and conia support him, but they’re not really angels on his shoulder). Either he’ll discover a darker secret somehow and turn against them (potentially the same as his father) or maybe through his development with the rvts he’ll grow to realise how horrible explorers has treated him? (something about chosen family vs biological family). Regardless of how it happens, I just hope Amethio can be happy by the end of all of this. Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll actually see him smile in a year or so.