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hivemuthur · 3 days ago

Text

Nothing's New - Ch.3.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut sort of present moving from this chapter forward

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,5K

tag: #nothings new

summary: Alright folks, some abrupt decisions are made in this chapter and I am foreshadowing Viktor's self-discovery (I will place a warning in the next chapter, as here it's still not that relevant). I will post some smut in a minute so you all don't get too sad :v

Cross-posted on AO3

—

You’ve spent the entire weekend stewing in your thoughts. Replaying the events over and over, from beginning to end, picking up pieces you might have missed before. It’s been a week since your last interaction with Viktor, and today is the final day for you to collect your things from his apartment.

You’ve been lying in bed, wondering if what happened last week was real or just an odd case of pareidolia—attaching meaning where there was none. Viktor’s anger, his cracking voice, the way he slumped back into the chair after you hurled fragments of conversation at each other. And yet, those fragments were more than anything that had happened between you in the past year.

People do such strange things after breakups. They throw themselves anywhere but into the breakup itself. They drink, get addicted to something, take up an extreme sport—or extreme hookups, which could also count as a sport—start smoking, dive into a new relationship, or become completely hopeless or cruel versions of themselves. And those versions do stupid, strange things.

Like giving your ex the keys to your apartment to pick up their stuff. Or being the said ex and going to your ex’s apartment to pick up your stuff. Utterly deranged. Utterly strange. Cruel on one side, hopeless on the other.

You have waited the entire weekend, sitting on pins. You haven’t seen Paul once, ignoring his texts and phone calls. Then, inevitably, Sunday noon has crept in, and you realise, that you have to go.

The journey is a drag in itself, but once you are in front of his apartment, you pause. You hold your breath as you slide the key into the lock. Getting here was torment. You thought the cursed triple-date restaurant ordeal was horrific, but you knew nothing. This is horrific. This is true terror. The terror of what’s on the other side of the door gnaws at you the whole way here, and now it gnaws harder, your hand frozen on the key, frozen in the lock.

When you hear it click, you release the trapped breath and close your eyes, stepping in. It’s dark. The day is muggy, with rain on and off, as the weather broke earlier in the week. The first licks of autumn hang in the air, and suddenly, you remember how freezing Viktor’s apartment is during the colder months. Your apartment. The apartment you lived in together. Whatever.

You take a timid stroll through the hallway—some pictures have disappeared from the walls. The ones of you and him. It’s expected, no reason to sulk. Moving on.

There it is: the lounge. The space where you’ve spent so much time reading, yapping, playing records, having sex on the couch, on the windowsill. Sleeping in front of the TV. So much time spent there alone, waiting, falling asleep with a book on your face, or staring expectantly at your phone. So many times you were abandoned here.

Viktor’s desk by the window is still covered in books, papers, and notes. He’s taken his computer away for the weekend, leaving behind a sharp square-shaped void outlined in dust where it had been. You draw a sad face in the dust with your finger, then hesitate, wondering if you should wipe it away so Viktor doesn’t notice.

You sit in his chair and spin yourself around, your feet dragging on the floor. No pictures to stare him in the face while he works, no particularly personal notes. No signs of Julia yet. No assprints in the layer of dust on his desk. Check.

You turn to the box he’s left for you in the middle of the room. Your name is scrawled angrily on it, as if Viktor forced himself not to write something like "CUNT" instead. It’s sealed, ready for you to grab and flee. But you want to see what remnants of you he’s collected, the things he so firmly believes need to be returned.

You rush to the kitchen and grab the first knife you see. Back to the box. A strange feeling churns inside you—something close to excitement, but also to dread.

With trembling hands, you slice the tape, reopening the wound. The box is stuffed with paper on top, meticulously packed. You pull the layers out and start digging.

Your books and clothes, mostly. You take them out one by one. Your T-shirt with "ALL MY BOOTS ARE FUCKED UP" written across it in huge letters. You used to sleep in it. You hadn’t realised it was left behind. It smells exactly of nothing—just a piece of cloth that’s been hanging in a closet for months. And yet, it smells faintly of Viktor, though maybe it’s just your imagination.

Books, each of them ones you love. Especially your first edition of The Lord of the Rings. Not the first edition, just the first one you ever got. A couple of notebooks with notes for work and personal scribbling. Your pin that says, “Bono in short legs shock.” Nothing in particular.

A few records are stuffed to the side. You wince at how he’s squeezed them in there and wonder if they’ve already melted and warped in the heat that was killing you not so long ago. And then, your heart sinks. Between the books and the clothes and an odd perfume bottle, lies a small box.

A gift you’d brought him: the tiniest chunk of meteorite you’d bought at the weirdest book convention you’d ever been to. It had been mixed with a natural minerals expo, an esoterica expo, and a reptile expo. Truly terrible. Until you spotted a man selling pieces of stars from his private collection. And you thought to yourself that if anyone on this planet deserved to receive a star for no occasion, it was Viktor.

He was speechless when you gave it to him. “Amazing,” he’d whispered, his eyes glinting as he weighed it in his hand. For something so small, it had felt so heavy. His heart had felt heavy too, with affection and devotion. He kissed you, kept kissing you until you were out of breath. It was wonderful.

And now it sits in your hand, discarded and abandoned. And it feels heavier than ever.

Forcing the tears back where they came from, you take a shaky breath and scramble up from your knees, clutching the box in your hand. You go to return the knife to where you’d taken it from in the kitchen, determined not to leave any sign of your snooping—except for the sad face drawn in the dust.

When you turn from the counter, it hits you violently in the face.

A Post-it note on the fridge. Viktor’s handwriting. Very old-fashioned. Very Viktor. More intimate than text messages. He’d left those for you once, before your intimacy had died. But this one isn’t for you.

“Miláčku, if you could grab my notebook on your way to work, I will be eternally grateful. V.”

In an instant, you forget your intention to leave no trace. You snap it from the fridge door, twisting it violently in your fingers. Something roars in your chest, and you can feel yourself spiralling. The need to go somewhere safe is overwhelming. So you go to the bedroom.

And there you are, confronted with another square-shaped void. The outline of where the bed used to be screams at you with the darker shade of wooden floor compared to the rest of the room. The empty space—what you remembered as small and cramped—now feels massive and vast.

You crumble onto the floor, squeezing the box with Viktor’s star in one hand and the wretched note in the other. There is no force that could stop your tears. Your lungs burn as you release a pathetic wail of a sob, granting yourself one of the ugliest cries you’ve had in months. The sun sets at some point.

Your chest and shoulders shake in spasms as your tears fall onto the piece of yellow paper, distorting the handwriting into blurred stains. This is the worst you have felt since the beginning. This is the bottom, surely. Crying in your ex’s apartment, on the spot where your bed used to be, clutching a word in your fist as if you refused to give it away to another woman. You refuse to give Viktor away to another woman. You refuse to give yourself to another man.

When you’ve run out of tears, you just stare at the note. For about ten minutes. No, for around twelve hours. You have no idea how much time has passed. You sit there curled up where the bed used to be, unable to move, unable to cry. The remnants of whatever composure you had when you stepped in are all gone.

You don’t even flinch when the door unlocks, and you hear footsteps and a sigh from the hallway. You are completely content to die here in your ignominy.

“Why are you still here?” Viktor’s voice echoes through the corridor, making him sound like an annoyed ghost. Hearing no response, he sighs again, louder this time, to emphasise how distressing your presence is to him. A caricature of a sigh, almost as if mocking someone else’s.

“I asked, why are you still—” He pauses when he sees you. “Are you alright?” The way his voice is laced with genuine concern makes you sick. It is the truest thing he has said to you in such a long time. One of the very few true things he has said in a year.

“What is this?” you ask, your voice utterly sad and so small. You open your shaking fists, and Viktor crouches awkwardly to make sense of what you are showing him. Once he sees the box and the wet, yellow paper, he understands.

“This,” he says calmly, “is something I no longer want. And this is a note to my girlfriend, Julia.”

His tone is devoid of emotion—quiet, calm, calculated. Inside, he is a storm. He left those two things intentionally, to stab you back. He had no idea the stabbing would work so well.

He planted them to stop feeling so fucking sodden. The rush of adrenaline at the thought of you finding those items was a momentary relief because he wasn’t able to tell you how stumbling upon your things jabbed at his heart. He wasn’t able to tell you that he actually played your records and read your books. Or that, when he found your T-shirt hanging in the wardrobe, hidden under his sweater—the one you stole all the time in winter—he died, just a little. How he hadn’t realised until he put the sweater on and discovered there was another skin underneath the wool. And that it still smelled of you after all this time. He wouldn’t tell you that he’d rather eat drywall than smell it again.

“Why is it saying what it’s saying?” you ask, your voice a sharp, trembling whisper, disbelief written all over your face. It’s so undignified to ask this. But dignity is a luxury you have to shed to get through this.

“Because I forgot my notebook for work the other day,” Viktor replies, his tone dispassionate, his eyes studying you like a scientist observing a failed experiment. This has truly backfired. Or rather, it has worked too well. In his wildest dreams, Viktor wouldn’t have dared to think he would find you curled up on the floor, your face swollen and defeated, exposing yourself to another blow.

“Do I have to wipe your face with it, so you answer my question?” you hiss, though the answer isn’t unexpected. The tiny dent made the last time you saw each other was, in the end, only a dent.

You wouldn’t even call it a crack—something you could peel off and peek inside. So, of course, you have to keep hitting.

His jaw tightens, but his voice remains cool, measured. “It is a pet name. A word you use for someone you are in love with.” He is hitting back. Your anger makes him angry. The fact that you are so angry and broken means that nothing has ended, nothing has resolved. And it boils the fear within him, and he attacks when he is afraid. Normally, it wouldn’t be a phrase to play with. But now, he is afraid.

The paper in your hand crunches loudly as you snap your fist shut. “It belongs to me,” you say in a dark tone, your voice brimming with equal parts defiance and anguish.

Viktor scoffs. “That’s rich. Nothing in here belongs to you, save for the trash you refuse to take out.” He stands up to accentuate his disgust. “Are you honestly being jealous right now?”

��No!” You shake your head and pick yourself up to level with him. “But this is just… cruel,” you shoot back, your voice rising, cracking under the weight of his dismissal.

“You will forgive me,” Viktor says with a bitter smile, “but I don’t follow. Which part of me doing the exact same thing that you are doing—moving on—is cruel?” He hasn’t moved on. He is standing stuck in one place. Julia is a distraction, and he knows it. And he knows it’s wrong to use someone like that, but he is only human. And there is no comfort in the idea of being eternally broken.

“You know exactly what I am talking about! Did you leave it here intentionally? Did you do this to hurt me?” Low. You are so low right now, the sound of you hitting this new bottom is echoing across your skull.

“You are so fucking full of yourself,” he spits, his voice dripping venom. “This is my house. It was on my fridge. As far as I remember, there was nothing in my fridge that you might possibly need to take with you.” Except for this exact note that I left there for you to see. That I left there to hurt you, and you are absolutely right about me because you know me better than I know myself.

“Why did you make me come here?” you demand, your voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

“Do I look like a delivery man to you?” Another cold scoff. Fast, so fast, he’s afraid you are going to see.

“Viktor. This—this is not going to work the way you think it will. You can’t just get rid of me. I will be in your life. I—”

“No!” he roars, the crack in his composure finally showing. “I want you gone. You—you fucking abandoned me! You ran, as if I were some abusive bastard. You do not get the right to demand anything from me!”

You are actually being screamed at by Viktor. Your brain short-circuits, and you blink a couple of times.

“What about Jayce and Mel?” you counter, clutching at straws, desperate to find a thread that could keep you tethered to him. Why, though? Were you really going to be friends again?

“I don’t give a fuck about Mel. And if I can live without you, I can live without Jayce,” he snaps, his voice teetering between fury and despair.

“Viktor, you cannot be serious right now. Jayce is—”

“I would rip off my leg to rid myself of you,” he cuts you off, his voice raw and unfiltered, his accent thickening under the weight of his emotions. “The good one. There is nowhere I wouldn’t go to rid myself of you. I regret—”

“I could slap you for that,” you interrupt, your voice low and trembling with fury.

“I wish you would,” he shoots back, stepping closer, his face a mask of tortured defiance. “I wish you would do fucking anything other than run. I wish you had waited for me that evening and talked to me. I wish you didn’t wipe your face with a note. I wish you’d picked up the phone instead of turning it off. You ruined me. You stole so many months of my life. And you dare to be surprised that I have found someone.”

“You abandoned me first,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but the words hit him like a blow.

“Don’t,” he warns, his voice tight, his eyes closing as if to shield himself from the truth. He knows. He knows. But for once, when he needed you to be strong, you were weak, and he couldn’t forgive that. Just once, when he crumbled under the pressure of stress, under the pressure of investors gnawing at him and Jayce, he just wanted you to stay put. To just be the person he came back to, day after day, until it passed. And when you crumbled, he hated you because you made him hate himself for being weak as well.

“You abandoned me first,” you repeat, louder this time, the words escaping your lips like a confession. “I loved you so much.” There are so many bottoms yet to be discovered by you, you realise. Stacked in layers, only for you to be painfully peeled off, like the paper skin on shoulders burned in the sun.

“Stop,” he says again, his voice faltering, the dent cracking as you keep hitting. As you keep scratching and clawing your nails at it.

“I tried to stay, but I couldn’t,” you continue, tears spilling over your cheeks, your voice alien even to you.

“Stop this,” he pleads, stepping closer. His hand reaches out, hesitating in mid-air before brushing against your face. His touch is tentative, trembling. His thumb sweeps the tear running down your cheek. His face, morphing in anguish, rage, something you can’t read—hesitation, resignation—all of those things watercolour across his eyes, his eyebrows, his lopsided mouth, transforming from one into another second after second.

“It ripped me apart,” you whisper, and his hand drops, his head bowing under the leaden weight of it all.

You feel the fear of the moment escalating or fading—both wrong—as now this is the most real thing that has transpired between you in almost a year. Your breath hitches when Viktor steps closer. And then.

He rubs his face against yours, his breath trapped in his throat as his composure fades. You freeze. The feeling of his skin on yours—so familiar. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple jumping, and finally, his golden eyes meet yours. And then. And then.

And then.

The featherlight brush of his lips—not yet a kiss. A strangled movement, hesitant and unsure. Your face cupped in his hands, the pull of gravity still stronger than the pull of his arms. And you stay, fixed in your place, breathing in his scent.

The last time you kissed was a long time ago, save for the absent pecks you gave each other when coming and going. And before that, you kissed many times. But never like this. Never so uncertain, so afraid.

He holds the back of your head as if you were water. It isn’t just one kiss. It’s plenty of lingering, sad kisses—no tongue, just his soft lips gently pressing against yours, making tiny smacking sounds each time he retreats to start again.

The outside of him is calm, but his heart flutters in his chest, and you can feel it under your hands, fisting his sweater. You kiss him back with equal, fleeting tenderness. Your hands travel to his neck, to his cheeks, ghosting over the beauty marks on his face. In the deafening silence of this space, all you can hear is his shuddery breath.

So this is how it used to feel. You remember. The one tremendous feeling that was missing, that you had forgotten about. Belonging. It crawls back into the periphery of your nerves—the sensation of being taken and kept, falling from his mouth to yours. But this time, you take him back; you keep him back.

He closes his eyes and kisses you deeper, pulls you closer. The familiarity of it erases all his careful plans to kick you out of his life. It clouds his judgment as he does the unthinkable. His fingernails scrape faintly against your cheeks, and you open your mouth fully for him, allowing him to swallow you. Your tongues touch, and Viktor groans. Because it feels different than with other people, and he can’t deny it.

His cane clatters against the wood as he leans on you, pushing you toward the windowsill. His fingers now dig into your ribs, knocking the air out of your lungs. You hop up, open your legs, and he is between them immediately. Leaning on you, squeezing the back of your neck, his hands all over you, under your clothes, and you gasp for air, rutting your hips against him to feel more of him—all of him.

Your hands fumble with his shirt and sweater so you can touch the flat plane of his stomach. His belly button glues itself back to his spine as you slide your palms underneath. Your breaths grow heavy as his hands fist your hair and press you further into his face until you can’t breathe. He gropes you so hungrily it almost hurts; all the clothes you are wearing hurt your skin, and only Viktor’s skin can soothe this pain.

You desperately pull the layers between you up and press your stomach to his. His hips buck into yours, his cock straining in his pants, and he wants—he wants, he wants you so much he whimpers, rutting into your core, the pang of lust and need twisting in his lower belly.

It all falls back into place when he suddenly remembers what it’s like to be just blissfully fucking you, what it feels like to be inside you, and he is aching. He thrusts against you hysterically, cursing his clothes, his hands grabbing fistfuls of your flesh, and you wrap your legs around his hips, digging your thumbs into the hollow of his cheeks.

And it’s only when you moan out his name that he remembers something else—how hard it was to breathe when you left. How bad he felt under Mel’s worried gaze. And he knows he wouldn’t survive it if it were to happen again.

So he pauses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against yours. He snarls and pulls away, and you feel something hooked out of your chest violently, leaving a gaping hole behind. He disappears from your space so fast you can only register him moving further between your blinks.

When you open your eyes again, you see him in the far corner of the room, hunched on his cane, chest heaving, turned so that he wouldn’t face you.

“Get out.” His voice is flat and rotten, as if someone has made him eat poison.

Wordlessly, you take the box with the star chunk from your pocket and place it on the windowsill before leaving the room. You drop your belongings back into the previously gutted box, not bothering to seal it back up, drop the keys into the bowl by the door, and leave with a loud thud echoing all the way back to the bedroom.

Viktor stands by the window, waiting to see you out on the street. His hand clasps against his mouth, trying to suppress a sob, his eyes fixed on you down there, so tiny, waving in a cab. It swallows you and takes you away, alongside your things.

It’s getting late, but he still calls Julia. He gives her the worst, most generic talk he can muster. He gives her a weak “It’s not you, it’s me,” which is, of course, a lie. Because it’s about her—not being you. And he can’t bear another woman crying in his apartment on that day, but he braces through it. He doesn’t tell her about the kiss. She cries a lot, but they part in peace. She’s understanding like that. And he feels about one stone lighter when she leaves.

But it’s not enough. One stone lighter, that’s all he feels after. His apartment is still heavy, still weighed down by the absence of you. He locks the door, leans against it for a moment, trying to breathe. The quiet settles over him, a suffocating silence that makes his chest tight. It’s not like he thought it would be. He should be relieved, shouldn’t he? He doesn’t have to juggle anyone’s emotions anymore, doesn’t have to pretend to be something he’s not. But all he can think about is you. How you left, how he watched you go, how he felt that piece of him break off and disappear when the door shut behind you.

He makes his way to the couch, sits down heavily, his hand finding its way to his lips. His fingers press against the spot where you kissed him, still lingering with the faint taste of you, the memory of your warmth. He mumbles a quiet apology, but it feels hollow, empty, like he’s talking to the walls.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, the words breaking him. “I love you. God, I love you...”

His breath catches on the last confession, as if saying it aloud will somehow make it real, but it only makes the absence feel sharper. It’s almost unbearable. The pain of not having you here, the pain of knowing he pushed you away. He presses his palm harder against his lips, as if trying to hold onto something that’s already slipping through his fingers. He feels completely gutted.

And you come back to Paul with your gutted box of things. He lets you in, no words said. He makes you tea and sits you on the couch. And you feel... so rotten, so evil for doing this. He cradles your head on his lap and makes quiet, soothing shushing sounds. When it starts to feel worse and worse, you snort up your sniffle and sit up.

“I have to talk to you,” you say in a cracked voice, Paul still smiling, still not realizing, because he would never expect you to do something so horrible.

He cocks his eyebrows and hums. “Oh-oh.”

“Paul, I’m serious,” you say, your voice trembling. The tea in your hands cools as the weight of what you’re about to tell him crushes you into the couch.

“You sure you want to do this now? Seems like you had a hard day already,” Paul replies, his tone gentle, though his gaze searches yours cautiously, as if bracing for something heavy. He’s ready for many things. He understands breakups are complicated. He knows how fresh this is when you started. And he’s told himself he’s ready for this kind of moment as well. Yet. Yet.

“I need to tell you something,” you insist, setting the tea down and folding your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking.

“Let me guess. Things are not as over between you and Viktor as you thought they were,” Paul says, leaning back, his face unreadable but his voice still gentle, knowing.

“I—” you stammer, feeling a lump rise in your throat. Were you this obvious?

“You don’t need a genius to know that. It was pretty fast… you and me. I am aware,” he continues, his voice soft but tinged with resignation, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his jumper. He’s actually hoping to be wrong, but well.

“We kissed,” you admit, the words spilling out like a confession you can’t hold back any longer. And then you wince as the memory somehow becomes real once you speak it out loud. But you can’t tell him what kind of kiss it was. That you’ve betrayed Paul about a million times today, with each tender and longing kiss Viktor gave you—and you gave back to him. Let him think it was just a kiss.

“Oh.” Paul freezes, his expression shifting ever so slightly, though you can’t tell if it’s surprise or hurt—or both.

“Oh?” you echo, your own voice quivering with uncertainty, afraid of what will follow.

“Well, I… I didn’t exactly expect you to say that,” he admits, running a hand through his hair, his movements deliberate, as if giving himself time to think.

“What did you think I was going to say?” you ask, your voice cracking, the weight of guilt pressing on your chest like a vice. The bottoms just keep coming.

“Oh, I don’t know. That you’re not ready to move in yet? I don’t know what I was thinking, really,” he says with a bitter laugh, his shoulders sagging as he looks away from you for the first time.

“Paul—” you start, but he cuts you off with a raised hand.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” he asks, his tone measured, though the tension in his jaw betrays him.

“No,” you say quickly, but the certainty in your voice wavers under his gaze. No. No, you don’t want to. You’re sure you don’t want to. And yet.

“Do you want to move in with me?” he asks, his voice quieter this time, almost cautious, as if he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“I… don’t know,” you admit, your hands clenching into fists against your thighs, wishing you had an answer that would hurt less. No. You don’t want to.

“Do you still love him?” Paul’s question lingers in the air like a storm cloud. You swallow hard, your silence speaking louder than any words could. And you hate yourself for it. This poor, kind man. And what you did to him. Almost the exact same thing Viktor did to you.

Paul sighs, the sound heavy with understanding and pain. “Do you love me?”

“I—I don’t know,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes under the pressure of his scrutiny.

“Well,” Paul says, forcing a weak smile that makes his lines more prominent. “I guess that concludes it.”

“Paul—” you try again, desperate to say something, anything, to fix this.

“Don’t,” he interrupts, his voice breaking slightly. “I guess I should’ve known. Jesus, how have I been so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid. I am. I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, your chest aching with regret. He looks so hurt. And it aches to be so broken that you can’t love a nice, beautiful, boring man. It would be so easy if it weren’t so hard.

“Is that all it was? Just a wait up before you can get back with him?”

“Paul, I’m not getting back with him. And no, it wasn’t. I just… don’t think it’s fair. To be with you, when I’m not…” anything in particular. Not in the relationship, not outside of it. Just complacent.

“Do you have any idea… what it feels like to be with someone who is in love with someone else, all the time?” He looks at you and the answer is written all over your face, then takes a long sigh. “I’ll call you a cab.”

You sit in silence for a while. You drink your cold tea. You stand up, pick up your box for it to be taken from your hands and carried by Paul to a cab. He slumps it onto your knees and closes the door before you can say ‘thank you.’ Then he pats the cab’s roof and sends you away. He will make you his own box, soon.

And you come back home, to your dark place, with one box, and another already anticipated, to stack one on top of the other. Thoughts clattering in your head. Viktor, the mess you’ve made, the confusion—all so harrowing.

You should feel something, shouldn’t you? Relief, maybe? But it’s just emptiness, the kind that fills every corner of your flat, each inch of it reminding you of what you’ve lost. You try to focus but your thoughts slip back to Viktor, to the kiss, to the way he touched you, like he still cared, like he still wanted you.

Sitting down on the bed, you press your fingers to your lips, the memory of his kiss burning there, so vivid, so real. You can almost feel him again. The warmth of his hands, the way his lips fit against yours like they were made to. Your chest tightens, the ache deepening. You close your eyes, leaning into the pillow, whispering, “I love you. I miss you so much,” to the fabric, as if hoping that saying it aloud will somehow help you to repent.

And in that quiet moment, when the dust settles down, the truth you've been running from finally breaks through. It was always there, under the surface, but now you admit it. Now, you let yourself feel it, how much indeed you love him and miss him.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x f!reader #arcane #viktor smut #arcane fanfic #my writing #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #viktor x oc #viktor nation #nothings new

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lieutenantfloyd · 1 day ago

Note

Do you know the trend where if you have a significant other in the military you say they can’t come into your house but amendment 2 or 3 which say “ no quartering of soldiers without consent”

That with cyclone or Bob

All Shook Up - Bob x Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: After seeing a trend where military spouses tell their loved ones they aren't allowed inside under the 3rd Amendment, you decide to play a prank on your sweet, returning husband Bob—that is until you get the words out, and he reacts in the only way Bob knows how.

Warnings: fluff, domesticity, husband! Bob, very mild accidental hurt/comfort.

Authors Note: This idea is so funny to me! I'm already working on Beau's version, and I'll definitely be posting that soon.

Read on AO3

The sun had just begun setting when you put your plan into motion. Grinning to yourself as you set dinner to cook in the oven, you check out the kitchen window for any sign of Bob's car. Your husband had been away on a training exercise all week and had just called you thirty minutes ago stating he was close to home.

Minutes later as you spare the driveway another glance, you see Bob climb out of his car, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. You couldn't mask your almost childish excitement as you left the kitchen and trod over to the door. Even after the years you'd been together you never got over just how handsome he was. But today you had other things in mind.

You hear the soft thud of his boots on the porch followed by the jingle of his keys before the door opens.

"Honey I'm home," Bob calls out just as you appear.

His brow furrows when you don't answer, instead just standing and watching him without an ounce of your expected warmth.

"Honey?" He tries again, "Is everything all right?"

You let another long second pass, his brows furrowing, before you answer.

"Oh, yeah," you say casually, "you just can't stay here."

Bob's eyes instantly widen behind his glasses. His gentle gaze fills with a look that is somewhere between confusion and heartbreak.

"I..What?" He questions.

You clear your throat, initial plan shattering but doing your best to follow through with your prank in light of his expression, knowing it'll be easier to explain in the end when you're both—hopefully—laughing.

"It is my right as an American citizen to exercise whatever rights I have the liberty of holding--including the third amendment of the United States Constitution, no quartering of soldiers and related military personnel without consent," You say, still standing in the entryway opposite Bob and the half open door.

Bob blinks, expression leaning more towards the confused end of things. For a second it looks like he's about to say something, only to remain silent. He glances at his hand still holding the doorknob, then over his shoulder outside before slowly— slowly —backing out and closing the door all without a word.

You let the silence hang for a second before you yourself grow confused. You had expected him to laugh or maybe fight back, or...really anything except actually leave . Yet as you're left standing there, your first instinct is to chase after him.

Crossing the distance and pulling the door open, you see him about to get back in his car.

"Bob!" you call out, earning a hurtfully hopeful glance back over his shoulder from the man, "I'm just messing with you!" you continue.

Bob's gaze drops and a brief flash of regret goes through you. He looks genuinely bewildered, as if he's going back through and cataloging months and years' worth of interactions to figure out where all this was coming from.

With a sigh you close the door behind you and step off the porch, padding softly down the steps until you're close enough to wrap your arm around the waist of your hopelessly sweet husband.

"I promise, It's just a prank, Bob," you reassure his worrying mind, "I thought it'd be funny, not that you'd just…”

You trail off, gesturing vaguely at everything as a brief flash of knowing crosses his eyes.

"Oh," he says after a long pause, brows still furrowed but tone far less tense, "I was so confused."

He returns your embrace, setting his bag on the ground and slinging an arm gently around you.

"I thought maybe something happened I didn't know about."

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you look up at him.

"You thought I'd kick you out over something you didn't even know?” You ask incredulously.

"Maybe If I forgot an anniversary or didn't text you goodnight–" He stammers, raising his free hand to rub the back of his neck, "I don't know what you think is worthy of invoking the constitution over, but it felt serious."

By now a soft blush has risen onto his cheeks and you can't help but place a kiss there, his flushed skin warmed under your gentle touch.

"You are too sweet for your own good, honey," you muse with a laugh, "You thought this was it? Really?"

"Well, I...It sounded serious!" He defends again with a bashful smile.

You can't help but laugh again, looking up at him in near warm-hearted wonder.

"You're always welcome to quarter here, or anywhere else I stay, for that matter."

Bob lets out a breath of relief, whatever tension was still held in his body leaving as your words provide the last bit of reassurance he needs.

"I...really didn't want to sleep in the car.”

You pat his back with a laugh and guide him up the steps and back inside before closing the door behind you both.

"Welcome home honey," you try again, a hint of joking still in your tone, "A place you'll always have a bed."

"Good to know," he chuckles softly, "Please, don't scare me like that again."

"I promise," You smile, pulling him in for a proper kiss this time, "I'll make it up to you."

"Yes please," he sighs, only to be distracted by the smell of roasting chicken coming from the kitchen.

"You...made dinner?" He asks gently, always so surprised by the little things even when they're a part of your daily routine.

"Of course I did. Can't have you going hungry, now, can we?"

Bob blinks then nods faintly in agreement.

"Good, go get changed while I finish up down here."

At that Bob practically melts in your arms like he does every time he comes home, never more relaxed than he is in your presence—even if it's your attempt at a prank that shakes him up to begin with.

Taglist: @rosiahills22 @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @callsignaries @blue-aconite @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @kmc1989

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob x reader #top gun x reader #bob imagine #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic

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tinfoil-jones · 3 days ago

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Gravity Falls: What Did You Do? Ch. 2

Summary: "Sixer... what did you do?"

“Nine Lives Lee”, a rare Stanley Pines who ended up on the other side of the portal instead of his brother, literally falls into “The Better World”, the dimension that many versions of Stanford Pines tend to be jealous of and hold over Lee’s head as ‘proof’ that everyone would have been better off if he’d just done what his brother asked him.

The Ford of this dimension, however, isn’t quite what he seems. And neither is his version of Stanley.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Language, violence, medical related gore, and mentions of graphic violence. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Disclaimer: Reverse Portal Stan "Nine Lives Lee" is owned by @urdadsceilingfan

This version of the Better World AU is owned by @mother-ofthe-universedraws

First - Next

Ch.2

Dimension-GB1100.

Yes, Lee had heard about it

It was known more commonly as “The Better World.”

Throughout the decades, Lee had met several versions of his brother, but fewer versions of himself. In most cases, it seemed, Stanford Pines was the one who ended up pushed through the portal, not Stanley Pines.

These meetings with alternate versions of his brother usually didn’t go well. The first ten years of separation in his own dimension had taught Lee that his twin could hold onto a grudge, and the following near-thirty years in the multiverse taught him that it was impossible for his twin to let go of a grudge.

Almost every version of Ford that he’s met projects their own feelings of frustration, anger, and resentment onto Lee himself, despite only being a variant of their Stanley, and not their original twin. They also conveniently looked past the fact that Lee was pushed through the portal by his Ford, underhandedly muttering under their breath that that must have been Lee’s fault too since he’s the Stanley of his dimension.

Lee was not above frustration or resentment himself - the first decade or so in particular was difficult as hope that his brother would do something to bring him back was dissipating and Lee had to come to the grim conclusion that he was on his own (not that it was a new concept to him, but nonetheless a painful pill to swallow). But it’s almost been three decades, he isn’t mad at his brother anymore. He just wants to see him again! His real brother, not bitter multiverse-weary versions of him.

“Name.” Dr. McGucket, the Fiddleford of Dimension-GB1100, asked him from across the table, taking Lee out of his thoughts. A sane McGucket this time, and he held a clipboard in hand as he questioned Lee.

Ford stood in the corner, leaning on his cane with his other hand hooked over his elbow. He was pretending to look away, but sneaking glances over at Lee every now and then, in an anxious way, almost like Lee might disappear or become uncooperative if he looks away for too long.

It was strange that Ford would be here for this interview, according to the other versions of Ford who’d come to this dimension “Dr. Pines” wasn’t one to give his dimensional variants the time of day.

“Lee.” He replied dryly

“Full name?” McGucket looked up from his clipboard.

“Lee.” He repeated, with emphasis. Whether it was the streets on Earth in his home dimension, or the streets amongst the vast multiverse, using your real, full name was dangerous. It was asking for trouble it was asking for-

“You…” Ford spoke up in the corner, his voice still rusty and seeming to sound older than they actually were “you used to go by ‘Stan’.”

-asking for vulnerability. You can’t be vulnerable and survive, you didn’t have that luxury anymore. Lee hasn’t had that luxury since he was seventeen years old.

Lee squinted his eyes slightly at him past his cracked, blocky glasses “Things change.” He replied, feeling the flickering embers of resentment and despair in his gut. He stomped those embers out quickly; this wasn’t his brother, he reminded himself. “I changed.”

Lee hadn’t gone by Stan in a long time, not since he came to the multiverse. Something about Ford - his Ford - telling him to leave with his journal and be as far away as possible from him, and then pushing him through a portal that did just that, something about that had snapped something in Lee all those years ago.

He wouldn’t let himself be defined by that shared suffix ever again, Ford already made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him, he could keep it.

“What’s your Dimension’s name?” Dr. McGucket interrupted the short exchange between the other two men.

“Dimension-CF9L.” Lee replied.

“Your designation is St– Lee-CF9L?” McGucket deduced, quickly correcting himself. At least he respected his preferences, and didn’t deadname him the same way so many versions of Stanford did.

“Ya got it.” Lee nodded half-heartedly.

Each dimension vibrated at their own frequency - and anything from that dimension, be it an object or a person, vibrated at that same frequency. No matter what dimension you were currently in, or how long you’d been away fron your dimension of origin, you were always going to be permanently set to that frequency.

That’s how universes were named, and designations for multiversal vagabonds like him were made. How Lee knew that his dimension was Dimension-CF9L even though he hadn’t stepped foot in it since half of his life ago.

Knowing the frequency of your dimension wasn’t enough to find home, though. Of course it wasn’t, it’s never that easy. You need to know the frequency, and the grid position. And grid positions on a multi-dimensional scale weren’t as simple as latitude and longitude like it was when he was on Earth (his own Earth); there were four ‘major’ coordinates, and two ‘minor’ coordinates. You couldn’t chart a course on a flat map when it came to dimensional travel, you needed an interactive 3D map.

Lee was fairly good at navigating dimensional grid coordinates– much better than he ever did with flat map grids; it was surprising, considering a lifetime ago when he dreamed of sailing the seas, he’d struggled with reading maps, but he had someone who was willing to to navigate those maps and charts. Or, he thought he had someone.

“Are you trying to imprison me?” Lee asked McGucket, while also glancing at Ford, who was the big boss of this institute according to, quite smugly, other Fords. “Ya definitely lookin’ at me like I’m about to jump ship.”

“You’re not a prisoner, Lee.” McGucket replied flatly. Even the rare sane versions of Fiddleford McGucket were anxious, so seeing one so collected was throwing Lee for a bit of a loop when it came to reading this one. “This is a necessary interview and quarantine.”

“Quarantine, huh? I don’t remember being sick, or agreein’ to stay here.”

“I can tell just by looking at it that your portal gun is low on charges. You’ll be needing more portal fluid soon, or you’ll be trapped where you are two jumps from now.” McGucket challenged, and quirked a white eyebrow at him.

Well damn, engineering genius got him there.

Ford spoke up, his words coming out surprisingly quick “We’d be happy to help you, Stanley, if you’d just-.”

“Lee.” He practically spat his reaffirment that time. He hated how Fords did that. They always disregarded what he said, especially when it came to his preferred name. And none of them ever bothered to-.

“Lee, we’d be happy to help you get the necessary resources for your portal gun.” Ford continued, and Lee blinked in surprise at him.

This was certainly new, most versions of his brother stubbornly refused to call him anything aside from what they wished. This was the first time one had actually listened to him.

Lee would almost find it sentimental if he wasn’t too busy finding it suspicious as Hell.

Ford had paused to see if Lee would respond, and continued to speak when he did not. “If you give us a list of materials we should be able to retrieve them for you, I only ask that you stay in quarantine while we do so.”

“Mhmm…” Lee replied, narrowing his eyes at this alternate version of his twin.

Most versions of Ford were on the thinner side compared to him, but it’d always been that way with Lee and his original twin so that wasn’t surprising, but this Ford was skinny. That was why in the dark he’d initially assumed he was McGucket.

Compared to all of these dimension hopping variants Lee had met, with their straight backed posture and confidence that bordered on smugness, this Ford looked very much frail. He even seemed a bit older with how little he weighed, with the way he was slightly hunched over his cane, and the eyebags that had eyebags.

This Ford was… hollow. It was hard to explain, but it was unsettling to Lee, and woke up something protective within him, something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager and felt the need to protect his own brother. Is this what his real brother was like now, back in their original dimension? Older than his years, faded and weary?

“If you’ll wait here, we’ll get the necessary preparations.” McGucket picked up where his co worker left off, he also pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his clipboard and slid both items over to the other side of the interrogation table with Lee. “Write down the components of your portal fluid. We’ll be back with you shortly, if you’ll just stay patient.”

Lee kept his arms crossed and didn’t say anything, he just nodded quickly. They’d already confiscated most of his gear, including his weapons, so he wasn’t in a position to negotiate.

McGucket nodded back and walked towards the door, using his lanyard keycard on a scanner to open it. The door - which was made of some kind of interactive, projected hardlight, turned from red to blue, and McGucket was able to walk right through it.

Ford lingered for a bit before following, noticeably slower than his fellow researcher. Lee didn’t need to turn his head to know that he kept glancing at him, though.

“Take a picture, Stanford.” Lee said flatly, boredly. “It’ll last longer.” Ford didn’t respond, he only somehow deflated even further, before scanning his own lanyard ID and leaving the interrogation room.

---

“‘Back with you shortly’- my ass.” Lee muttered to himself out loud. After having been waiting there for at least two hours. Hard to tell when they swiped his watch.

He weighed his options. He could just keep waiting here, but the antsiness and anxiety was only making him more paranoid the longer he waited.

He knew that this was par for the course - other Fords had explained that they had been held here too, to avoid contact with their alternative self. It was a known phenomenom that if you make physical contact with an parallel version of yourself while either of you is in your home dimension, that dimension will collapse.

Rick had confirmed this to him, and explained further that he and his many alternate selves didn’t have to worry about this phenomenon because of an after effect of their own portal fluid ‘distorted’ enough of their dimensional frequency to prevent a ‘crash-out’. Stan’s portal gun utilized a different fluid though, and it didn’t have the same effect on him.

The way Lee came so close to collapsing that swamp dimension when he almost got into a physical altercation with the frog version of himself, ‘Mr. Ponds’...

But, he’d heard about this dimension enough times to know its vague history. The Ford of this dimension had sent his twin brother away with his first journal decades ago. That was the kicker of this dimension, and what every Ford variant who had been here liked to hold over Lee’s head like a noose.

Everything would have been better for everyone if you would have just listened to me, Stanley.

I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!

They never brought up Lee’s parallel self from this dimension, but knowing Ford they either didn’t ask because they assumed he was fine (they always assumed that about their own twin, after all), or he just wasn’t in Ford’s life at all and they never saw him.

Gambling man Lee was, he was betting on the latter. Ford didn’t have his twin in his life and he was going to use that to his advantage. He didn’t have a dimensional collapse to worry about.

Thankfully, when the nerds and their goons had confiscated his gear, they did leave him with something they’d assumed wasn’t important.

He had a thin gold chain around his neck and on that chain was a very old-fashioned looking key, looking like it was made of iron and thick enough to think it was just a decoration or, if being generous, it could open a lock the size of a softball.

But looks were often deceiving.

Guards did their arounds around this cell, doing a rough square around this wing of the building every fifteen minutes. Lee couldn’t see them, because the hard light door was opaque, but it wasn’t an effective barrier to sound, and judging from the footstep pattern Lee had been mentally keeping track of, there were only ever two guards together at one time. Two guards he could deal with, but if he got his timing just right, he could avoid the guards entirely.

He heard the steps fade in, then come close to the door, and then begin fading, and he made his move.

Taking the key off of his chain, Lee walked up to the hardlight door and pressed the large, pronged key to the scanner box.

There was a confirmation sound from the box, and the door turned from red to blue, allowing Lee to slip out finally.

The key may have looked like it was archaic and medieval, but it was one of Lee’s most sophisticated pieces of tech; The Space President’s Key. It opened any advanced sci-fi lock, the only drawback being that it didn’t work on traditional locks. He’d won it in a poker game a few years back in Dimension-HG42; it turned out that his opponent, Something Beeblebrox something, was the president of that galaxy.

Slipping the key back onto his chain, Lee followed the direction that the guards were going, matching his steps to their cadence to avoid detection. If they were guarding him, it stood to reason they also guarding his gear.

Rounding a corner, he found a door labelled ‘Misc Storage’. His Space Presidents Key couldn’t help him here, because it was a traditional lock that needed a traditional key. But this was no problem for Lee either.

Pushing the hand on his prosthetic all of the way back, he opened up the compartment space where he kept many small tools; these were mostly to maintain his prosthetic, but also his weapons, and even a small repair kit for his glasses frame (can’t do anything about the crack down the left lens, though).

A pick and a small screwdriver were all he needed to get through the locked door, which he silently closed behind himself.

The walls were lined with built-in drawers, reminding him of a post office. He could at least narrow down his search to the ones that would be big enough to hold his gear.

Many of these were civered in dust, so confiscation wasn’t something they did too often. There was one large cubby drawer however, that looked as though someone had tried to brush the dust off of it, but half-assed it leaving large, obvious hand trails.

Bingo.

Lee had echoic memory. He could remember things he heard, he could take the things he heard and make realistic and accurate deductions based on what he heard, but that didn’t mean his hearing was sensitive. Lee was still an old man who had to get one of his eardrums replaced with a sci-fi implant last year to avoid having to use a hearing aid.

But it was still strange when he didn’t hear the door open, and the footsteps that approached him so silently.

“Hello?”

Lee whipped around in an instant and pointed his blaster at the offending source of the words; only to almost drop it at what he was seeing.

A kid, no older than fifteen, yelped in surprise at the sight of a gun pointed in his direction and stumbled backwards with his hands up. Or, shoulders up, really; he was on elbow crutches.

How had he managed to move so silently with those?

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” The kid stammered with a strong, familiar, Jersey accent. Lee instantly put his blaster back into it’s proper holster.

“I won’t- yeesh, kid, ya trying to give me a heart attack or somethin’?” Lee chided, and the kid had a still worried, but sheepish look on his face. How had he managed to move so silently? Especially with crutches. Was Lee just losing his touch?

A kid being there wasn’t the thing that was making Lee feel like his brain had tilted. It was how he looked. With his braces, top heavy build, glasses, acne, and greaser-style slicked back hair, it was like looking into a window to the past.

“I know I’m not supposed to meet you guys but I just had to at least once!” The kid prattled, and even his voice was like hearing himself from that age.

Lee felt his heart both twist and flutter - the Ford of this dimension must have had a kid. It was reasonable the kid could look like him, since they were identical twins.

Did his own brother, back in their dimension, become a father in Lee’s absense? Like their older brother Sherman? God, it’d been so long Sherman’s son could be a father himself now too.

“You should get back to your dad, kiddo.” Lee told him, trying to keep his voice soft. It wasn’t a tone he was used to using, he wasn’t usually around kids.

“My pa? He’s…” The kid shifted uncomfortably “Well, you’re one of the other versions of Sixer, right? You’re him from a different world? I didn’t think ol’ poindexter could look this cool!”

Did he really think that Lee was - well, he supposed that looking past his prosthetic arm and the difference in weight, he was still mostly identical to Ford. Even if they were from different dimensions, they were still twins.

…Who called their dad by a nickname like that? Was this not Ford’s kid? Was he another son or even a grandson of Shermies?

Or… could this even be his own son? As in, the son of his alternate of this dimension? Was his parallel self still close enough with Ford to let his kid stay with him?

“That’s a really cool arm!” The kid continued, not picking up the confusion or the thoughtful look on Lee’s face that he’s sure he was poorly concealing. “Does it shoot out rocket fists or-?”

“STANLEY!” They both bristled as they heard Ford’s deep, rusty voice shouting down the hallway, a distinctive series of clicks from his cane and his soles indicating that he was rushing over.

The man slammed the door opened and his eyes trained onto the two figures in front of him, as if he couldn’t decide who to berate.

“Stanley, get away from him this instant!”

Lee was about to retort that he wasn’t going to or planning on hurting the kid when-

“M’ sorry Sixer… I was just curious, ya know?” The kid answered, just as sheepisj as earlier, as he bunched his shoulders up closer to his head and walked over to Ford, who swifly grabbed at both sides of his arms right under his crutches and pulled him back until he was behind him. And now Ford stood between Lee and the kid, as if shielding him from something.

From Lee?

Lee blinked, eyebrows furled together as he tried to put all of these pieces together, until he asked “Ford, who is that?”

Ford hesitated for a moment, and it looked like the kid behind him was about to answer for him, but a pointed look from the man in front of him shut him up.

“...This is Stanley, my brother.” He explained, slightly strained.

…Huh?

“What?” Lee asked out loud, looking between the kid and Ford “There’s no way he’s your twin!”

“He is!” Ford insisted, still shuffling in a way to prevent Lee from getting a closer look at ‘Stanley’ “When we were very young, he was… injured, very gravely. And put into suspended animation. It was only a few short years ago we were able to take him out of it.”

Lee has met alternate versions of himself before.

Both inside and outside of dimensions.

It’s hard to explain what it’s like to meet at alternate - but it does make the ‘frequency crash out’ that Rick was talking about, the thing that made entire dimensions collapse, make sense.

Even though it takes physical contact to initiate the collapse, just being within a certain distance of an alternate caused you to feel a certain way.

Like there’s a static on your skin thay was always there, and you’re only just now starting to feel it because it’s trying to pull you closer to a very similar static that isn’t exactly the same but too similar to ignore.

Lee looked at Stanley, and there wasn’t that crawling, static pull. And even as Ford continued with his explanation, Lee only had one thought.

‘That isn’t me.’

To be continued…

---

NOTES

Dimension-CF9L (RP Stan's dimension). That’s because this version of reverse portal Stan “Nine Lives Lee” is (or at least heavily inspired by) the Reverse!Portal AU from tumblr user urdadsceilingfan or Ceiling Fan “Ceil”, with 9L referring to Lee’s nickname, he learned his dimensions name and that’s at least part of how he got his infamous nickname. At least in this fanfic.

Lee’s description how the position if a dimension is measured by four major coordinates and two minor coordinates, it’s a reference to how the Milky Way Galaxy allegedly has four major spiral arms, and two less spiral arms or ‘spurs’. This is basically just me BSing how a persons Dimensions name could be known but they still wouldn’t be able to find it.

When Lee internally narrates that he was very skilled with the interactive 3D maps needed for dimensional travel, when he’d struggled with flat paper maps when he was younger, this is a hint towards Lee having a different way of learning and different learning needs. A lot of people have theorized that Stan might have had some sort of learning problem, like ADHD or dyslexia. Lee here is hinting that he struggles reading and learning things that are second dimensional and non-interactive, while having a talent for understanding things when presented to him in a three dimensional format. He was always smart, he just had different learning needs that the education system did not or could not accommodate for. This is also another parallel with Bill Cipher, who was a two dimensional being in the second dimension, but did not fit in because he could see into and interact with the third.

“Faded and weary” is a term pulled from the song “Into the Nothing” by Breaking Benjamin.

Mr. Ponds is a one-off character from Amphibia who is a clear nod to / reference to Grunkle Stan.

The Space Presidents Key is a direct parallel to The Presidents Key from canon.

President Beeblebrox refers to Zaphod Beeblebrox from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. The dimension, HG42, gets the letters of its name from “Hitchhikers Guide”, while 42 is “the Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, The Universe, and Everything” in the story.

#what did you do?#nine lives lee #reverse portal au #the better world #better world au #stanley pines #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanford pines #ford pines #grunkle ford #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #old man mcgucket #gravity falls au #gravity falls #fanfic #fanfiction #cross posted on ao3

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scary-grace · 2 days ago

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Bloody Valentine - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

When you get to school on Valentine's Day, your biggest worry is how you're going to give chocolate to your lab partner and crush, Shigaraki Tomura, without him knowing that it was you, and when it all goes wrong, you can't imagine how your day could possibly get worse. But when a plague of zombies erupts within the halls of UA High and the evacuation leaves you behind, you find yourself trapped with Shigaraki, both of you left behind. You've been forgotten. There's no help coming. Forget being each other's valentines - now you're each other's only chance to get out of this alive. (cross-posted to Ao3) dividers by @kodaswrld

Chapter 1

You slink through the aisles at the convenience store, blinking sleep out of your eyes and wishing you’d gone to bed earlier last night. You knew what kind of day today was going to be, because it’s the same kind of day you have every day – busy. Rehearsal in the morning, before school starts, team practice as soon as the final bell rings, and in between, the heaviest class schedule it’s possible to take while still reserving at least a few hours to sleep. You should have gone to bed earlier. A lot earlier.

But you didn’t, because you never do, and now you’re here, buying Valentine’s Day chocolate on five hours of sleep. You know you should have made the chocolates by hand, like you did for your friends. It’s something you’re going to have to explain, if the person you’re planning to give the convenience-store chocolate to figures out it’s from you and asks why you cheaped out on him. You’ll have to think of something to say. In the meantime, you pick out the package with the least-ostentatious wrapping and the fewest fruit flavors and make your way to the cash register.

You aren’t the only person in line who waited until the last minute. The woman in front of you is balancing a tower of boxes of the most expensive chocolate the convenience store offers, and the girl behind you in a middle-school uniform is holding a tiny box with an enormous bow on top of it. The cashier’s a woman, too. She doesn’t question the woman ahead of you in line, but when you step up to pay, she looks you up and down with a sly smile on her face. “Who’s this for?”

Your face burns red. You haven’t admitted this out loud to anybody yet, but you have to start somewhere. “My lab partner.”

She chuckles and checks you out, and you wander off to one side, trying to store your loose change and hide the chocolate in your backpack at the same time. You overhear the conversation the cashier has with the middle-schooler. “Sorry. You don’t have quite enough for that one.”

“But it’s the smallest one!” the girl protests. She’s barely old enough to be in middle-school – not more than thirteen. “I looked at the price –”

“Sales tax,” the cashier says. You wince. “Go on. There are people waiting behind you.”

You hear the girl sniffle, and you still haven’t stored your change. You step back up to the counter and slide the coins across it, back to the cashier. “That’s enough, right?”

The cashier nods. You pick up the small box and hand it back to the girl, ushering her outside into a cold, mostly-dark February morning. “Thanks,” she says to you, but her mouth’s still turned down. “He’s my best friend, but all the girls like him – he’s going to get so much and mine’s so small –”

“Write something to go with it,” you suggest. “If you put a note on it it’ll at least look different from the others.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?”

You’re going to stealth-mode the chocolate into his locker and hope he guesses it’s from you – or at least hope that he doesn’t think it’s from somebody else. But you haven’t put much thought into it, and this girl’s best friend is probably a far cry from your lab partner, who’s capable of exuding an aura so grumpy and malevolent that first-years have been known to leave the building to get away from him. “Yeah,” you say, feeling only a little guilty. “Good luck with yours.”

“You, too,” she says. She heads for the metro stop; you store your chocolate away at long last, wrap your scarf a little more tightly around your neck, and start the walk to school.

UA High isn’t for everybody. It’s academically rigorous, to the point where the kids taking remedial classes there could still run circles around the advanced students from any other school, and it’s got so many class and extracurricular offerings that it could almost pass for a university. It’s prestigious to the max, and it’s also really expensive. Students who go there come from rich families, or else they’re on scholarship, their grades and participation reviewed at the end of every term to see if the scholarship will be renewed.

Nobody ever comes out and says which one they are, but it’s pretty easy to tell. Rich kids have class schedules that wouldn’t be out of place at a normal high school. Scholarship kids have schedules like yours. A schedule which begins bright and early at seven am with rehearsal for the school play. This year, it’s Romeo and Juliet, performed pop-opera style – next to no spoken dialogue, almost every piece of dialogue sung. The drama club doesn’t have enough good singers to make it work, so they pressed the choir into service. That’s where you come in. You’re not a good actor or the best singer, but your voice isn’t objectionable and you don’t make a lot of mistakes. That’s enough to earn you a part in the chorus.

And enough to make you an understudy – and the girl who plays Juliet is out sick, which means you’re stuck holding hands with Amajiki Tamaki as the director tries for the billionth time to coax some life into his performance. “Come on, Amajiki! This is a girl you’re holding hands with. The most beautiful girl in the world.”

Amajiki frowns. “I thought Rosalind was the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“That was last week,” Yamada-sensei says. You try not to laugh. “This week it’s all about Juliet, and unlike Rosalind, Juliet likes you. Get hyped! Okay, let’s take it from the top –”

Yaoyorozu starts playing the introductory notes of the song. Amajiki looks directly down at your joined hands and starts singing to them. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims ready stand, to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss –”

He’s on-key, which is a big deal for drama club kids, but just as wooden as ever. Off to one side, you see Yamada-sensei shaking his head. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,” you sing. Your performance is probably at least as wooden as Amajiki’s, but you’re not supposed to be here, anyway. “Which mannerly devotion shows in this; for saints have hands which pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

“Cut,” Yamada-sensei announces. “You’re killing me, Amajiki. Look at her for a second while you’re singing it. Chemistry is all about eye contact.”

“They don’t have chemistry,” Monoma, who plays Tybalt, announces from off to the side. “He and Kenranzaki have chemistry.”

That chemistry is probably the result of Amajiki being terrified of Kenranzaki, just like every other guy at school, but at least some sparks are flying onstage when they’re together. You’re not even sure how Amajiki ended up in the play when he’s got the worst case of stage fright you’ve ever seen. His hands are really sweaty. “Pretend it’s not me,” you suggest. “Pretend I’m the person you like, if you like anybody.”

“There’s an idea,” Yamada-sensei says. Amajiki’s face turns bright red. “Ooh, there it is! We’ve got something. Let’s move.”

“You have to do it too,” Amajiki says to you. “Pretend I’m someone you like. If you like anybody.”

“Fine,” you say. If Amajiki gets a good run-through, you get to go wash your hands. The piano playing starts, and you give it your best shot.

Your plan was to picture an actor, somebody cute but distant, but instead your lab partner pops into your head. Your face goes instantly flushed, probably even more obviously than Amajiki’s, because if you confessed your feelings to Shigaraki Tomura by singing them, he’d laugh you out of the school. If he were the one standing across from you right now, you’d be cringing in despair, knowing for a fact you’d already blown your chances, trying to enjoy the few seconds of holding his hands you got before he yanked them away. You definitely wouldn’t feel like singing about it.

Still, you get through your first lines, and manage to hold Amajiki’s gaze during his response. Saints and palmers have lips, et cetera – and then it’s your turn. “Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer –”

“O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do,” Amajiki says. His eye contact is a little too direct, a lot too earnest. Now you’re really uncomfortable. “They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

“Okay, that’s good enough for now. We don’t want Romeo to faint,” Yamada-sensei says. “That was a lot better, Amajiki. I could tell you were feeling – something. Go get some water. And you –”

He points at you. You cringe. “Stay put,” Yamada-san instructs. “Count Paris, you’re up. We’ve got some back and forth we need to run.”

Tetsutetsu, the first-year who plays Paris, hops up from his seat and comes to stand on the makeshift stage. All you can do is hope his hands aren’t too sweaty.

You stagger out of the rehearsal space at eight-thirty, desperate for a place to wash your hands, and Nejire, who was waiting for you outside, follows you into the bathroom. “I got a Snapchat,” she sings out, brandishing her phone while you run water over your hands. “You and Amajiki sound so good!”

Your heart sinks. “Somebody filmed it?”

“Just on Snapchat! It’s not a story or anything,” Nejire says. “Amajiki’s so cute when he’s blushing!”

“He looks like he wants to die,” you mumble. “How did he end up in the play, anyway?”

“He failed English last term.” Nejire lowers her voice. Amajiki’s a scholarship student, just like you, and you know what failing a class means. “Yamada-sensei convinced the principal not to kick him out as long as he made it up somehow, and since he can sing, being in the play is the best way.”

If it came down to being kicked out of UA or doing some extracurricular activity you really hated, you’d pick the latter without blinking. Nejire replays the Snapchat again while you dry your hands. “How come you were up there? I thought Kenranzaki was the lead?”

“She is,” you say. “She wasn’t here this morning. It was weird – she never misses rehearsals, and she didn’t even text.”

“People were missing from dance practice, too,” Nejire says, frowning. “Kodai and Hagakure didn’t text, either.”

“Maybe something’s going around,” you say. Whatever it is, you hope you don’t get it. You have too much to do. You dry your hands and straighten up. “Come on. I brought you chocolate and I don’t want to give it to you in the bathroom.”

Nejire has chocolate for you, too. She bought chocolate rather than made it, and because she’s not on scholarship, she can afford the really good stuff. You feel awkward handing over your homemade chocolates, but Nejire exclaims over them anyway. You know she’s sincere, because she can’t fake anything for more than a few seconds. “I bet we’re giving them to all the same people,” she says, beaming. “We still have a few minutes. Let’s go hand them out together!”

Your homemade chocolates look like nothing compared to Nejire’s expensive ones, but you’re not friends with your friends for no reason. They compliment Nejire’s generosity and your hard work, and hand chocolate back to you with enthusiasm. You manage to pass your chocolates out to three of your friends before homeroom – Keiko, Saki, and Hinata, girls you’ve known since your first day. The rest you’ll have to get on the run.

Other than homeroom, most of UA High’s classes are sorted by ability rather than by year, which means you’ve had the chance to make friends with second-years and first-years, too. Kyoka is a first-year, but she stands next to you in first-period chorus, so you’ve talked to her almost every day since the start of the year. She gets a box of chocolates. So does Camie in second period advanced calculus, even though she thinks you’re sort of boring and you think she’s kind of an airhead. You helped each other study for your final exams last term. You owe her.

You don’t sit next to any of your friends in third-period English class, but someone in that class is on the climbing team with you. You aren’t close enough to give him chocolate, but you’re friendly enough to say good morning. Spinner returns your greeting, but he’s looking apprehensively at your gear bag. “Wait, were we top-roping today? I forgot all my shit.”

“Coach will probably change it to bouldering if you ask her,” you say. Spinner’s the best climber on the team by a mile, but he’s not the most motivated, and Coach Usagiyama will do just about anything to keep him interested. “If not, I’ve got a spare harness in here.”

“Thanks.” Spinner breathes a sigh of relief. Or yawns. “If it wasn’t movie day in here I’d be screwed. I need a nap.”

“Same,” you admit. “Do you know which –”

“Ladies and those of you who are not ladies, take your seats!” Yamada-sensei booms as he slams the door of the classroom shut behind him, and you scurry back to your seat. Yamada-sensei skids in for a landing in front of the blackboard and switches to English. “I only have one question for you this fine movie day – rom-com or action?”

You vote action, and so does Spinner, but it’s Valentine’s Day and advanced English is mostly girls, so of course you lose. As the vote’s happening, though, you realize just how many people are missing from class today. Kenranzaki from the drama club, two people from Nejire’s dance team, and at least three from English class. Something must be going around. As the bell rings to signal the end of the class period, a terrible thought occurs to you. So many people are absent. What if Shigaraki’s absent, too?

Spinner would know. They’re friends. You stop by his desk as he’s waking up from his nap. “Hey,” you start, “do you know if Shigaraki’s here today? We’re starting a new experiment in chem lab, and –”

“He’s here. I saw him this morning,” Spinner says. “He’s probably going to be late, though. He’s late to everything.”

That gives you time to drop the chocolate on his desk, if you hurry. The thought makes you nervous. Spinner notices. “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll text him and tell him to hurry up.”

“No, don’t –” you start, but Spinner’s already got his phone out. You’re running out of time. You mumble an insincere thank-you to Spinner and book it to the lab, trying not to think about how Shigaraki will respond to the idea of you – you, through Spinner – bossing him around.

You get to chem lab first, ahead of everyone – all your classmates and Sasaki-sensei, too. You tuck your belongings under the bench you share with Shigaraki, pull the chocolate out of your backpack, and set it down on his side of the bench. Done. Your heart is racing, and he’s not even here yet – and once he does, he won’t even know it’s from you. Your high school experience hasn’t been a dream by any means, but this might just be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.

It would be different if you had a crush on a nice guy, but Shigaraki Tomura isn’t a nice guy. He’s older than you, courtesy of being held back a year sometime in middle school, and while he has friends, every last one of them except Spinner has a reputation just like his. When you were paired up with him for chem lab at the beginning of the year, most people felt sorry for you, and they said so. But you were determined to make the best of it, not to get off on the wrong foot, and so you were friendly. It took two months for him to start being friendly back. For a given value of friendly.

He makes fun of you for being such an overachiever, such a perfectionist – but never for being here on scholarship. The first time he complimented you, it was vague and almost backhanded, but it had your heart racing for the rest of the period. When you finally swapped phone numbers, it took you three days to work up the courage to text him first. Sometimes Shigaraki leaves you hanging, but if you catch him at the right moment – usually at night, when both of you should be sleeping – you can draw him into a conversation. And he’s different than anybody else you know.

You know you’re a cliché, the stereotype of a good girl with a crush on the dictionary definition of a bad guy. But you don’t think that’s why you like him. You just – like him. And you remember something he said a while ago, when the two of you were complaining about couples hanging out in the hallways and blocking you from getting your shoes back, and he mentioned something about Valentine’s Day being even worse – everybody and their cat gets chocolate, and I just have to look at it. You read between the lines. The idea of bringing him chocolate was in your head way before you admitted you had a crush.

Your classmates trickle into the lab slowly, and once again, you register that there aren’t as many as usual. More than a few benches have an empty seat at one side, but Sasaki-sensei arrives thirty seconds before the bell rings, as usual, and starts taking attendance before the final notes ring out. He has the strictest attendance policy in school, and you watch the door anxiously out of the corner of your eye as you organize your pre-work for today’s lab. Acid-base titration. It should be an easy experiment to run, but not if you’re running it alone.

But you won’t be. A shadow darkens the doorway, then falls across your bench, and Shigaraki Tomura drops down in his seat next to you just as Sasaki-sensei calls his name. He doesn’t hear Sasaki-sensei, though – he has headphones in. You elbow him and he yanks them out, just in time for Sasaki-sensei to repeat himself. “Shigaraki Tomura?”

Shigaraki half-heartedly raises one hand, then lets it drop. Sasaki-sensei addresses the class, all business. “I see multiple absences today. If your partner is missing, pair up with someone whose partner is also missing. As usual, you will not be allowed to begin the experiment until I confirm the completion of your prework, and if you run out of time to complete the lab, you will receive no credit for the day.”

The familiar anxious shooting pains lance through your fingers. You can be as prepared as it’s possible to be, and Sasaki-sensei’s reminder of just how willing he is to fail you always scares you. Next to you, Shigaraki pulls a few crumpled pieces of paper out of his backpack, muttering under his breath. “Half the school’s out sick. He can’t cut us a break?”

You move your papers alongside Shigaraki’s, sorting them to make it easier for Sasaki-sensei to see that you’re both done, and take a risk. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, I figured. Spinner texted me,” Shigaraki says. You cringe. “This lab’s so scary you can’t do it alone?”

“I could do it alone,” you say, stung. It’s the kind of thing he usually says with a teasing note in his voice, but instead he’s strangely flat. He’s not looking at you. “It’s just weird, with so many people out. Did all your friends make it in today?”

“Everybody but Twice,” Shigaraki says. “He can’t shut up when he’s sick, usually – we all get a newsflash every time his body does something disgusting – but this time he hasn’t said a word.”

Kenranzaki didn’t, either. Neither did the girls who were missing from dance team practice. Shigaraki glances at you. “Is that really all it takes to spook you?”

“I didn’t say I was scared. Just that it’s weird,” you say. He’s in a mood today. Is it really just that it’s Valentine’s Day? “Are you feeling okay?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you seem – different – this morning,” you say, stumbling over the words. You thought the two of you were past this. What did you do? “I just wanted to ask. In case there was something –”

“Something you could do?” Shigaraki finishes your sentence. He scoffs. “Nice try. I know what –”

“I certainly hope you do.” Sasaki-sensei looms over the two of you, scooping your prework off the desk. “Shigaraki, your handwriting continues to be atrocious. And you – how many times do I have to ask you to stop writing in 10-pt font? You’re going to strain my eyes.”

“You need better glasses, then, Sensei,” Shigaraki says, almost sneering. That sounds more like him. You can almost fool yourself into thinking he’s defending you. “Our handwriting doesn’t matter. Are we right or wrong?”

Sasaki-sensei glances over your work again. “If I docked points for illegibility, you’d both be on the verge of failing. But your calculations are sound. You may begin.”

You’d be more relieved if Shigaraki wasn’t acting so weird. The two of you start setting out your equipment. “I just wanted to know,” you start, “because I –”

“Shut up,” Shigaraki snaps. You startle. “What the fuck is this?”

It’s the box of chocolates you bought. He scoops it off the desk and brandishes it at you. “This was you, wasn’t it? What is wrong with you?”

“Who said it was me?” You don’t know how to cover up your shock, so you return fire instead. “Whoever it was –”

“I know it was you,” Shigaraki cuts you off.

“How?”

“Because it’s on my desk in fucking chem lab and you’re the only girl in here who talks to me,” Shigaraki says. He drops the box back on the table and shoves it towards you. “Unless you’re going to pretend I’ve got some kind of secret admirer –”

“Maybe you do!” Your voice starts to scale up, and you clench your jaw. You shove the box back across the table towards him. “It could be anybody who left that there. Why are you mad at me?”

“Because it wasn’t anybody. It was you!” An angry flush is crawling from beneath Shigaraki’s collar. He picks up the box of chocolates and drops it on your notebook. “Take this back or I’m throwing it away.”

“Somebody decided to show they like you and you’re throwing it away?” You’re shocked by the acidic note in your own voice, even as you make up your mind to never admit that you were the one who put it there. “You can be mad at me all you want, but you shouldn’t punish them for what you –”

“That’s enough, Station 11,” Sasaki-sensei snaps, from up near the front of the classroom where he’s correcting Yoarashi’s and Togata’s prework. “Focus on your experiment and stop distracting the others.”

This is the wrong class to try to fight with somebody in. You set the box of chocolates down exactly equidistant from you and Shigaraki and start testing the scale you’re supposed to use to weigh your reactants. Sometimes Sasaki-sensei calibrates them wrong on purpose just to throw people off. Next to you, Shigaraki’s sitting still in his seat, visibly seething. His face is still flushed, and when he opens his mouth, it’s to come after you again. “Fuck off with this ‘somebody else’ bullshit,” he says – quieter than before, but not by much. “I know damn well it wasn’t Toga, so that leaves you. You’re the only –”

He breaks off, curses, but you can fill in the rest of the sentence. You and Toga are the only girls he talks to. “And I guess you think this is funny or something, because –”

“Why would I think this is funny?” you hiss.

“Like I’d know. Like I’d ever know what the fuck is going on in your head! I thought –” Shigaraki breaks off again, this time without the cursing, and the look he turns on you is so disdainful that you can barely keep your composure. “You really can act, huh. That nice-girl thing you’ve been putting on since school started. You almost had me fooled.”

Your temper breaks free. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You expect me to believe you’re stupid now?” Shigaraki laughs, so cold and derisive that your eyes sting. “I’m not falling for that one. I’m done almost falling for –”

“Is it really that hard for you to believe that someone might want to be around you?” As much venom as there is in Shigaraki’s voice, you can match it. He might think you’re a nice girl, but you wouldn’t have survived almost three years as a scholarship student at UA if you weren’t tough enough to hold your own with anybody. “I have to tell you, it’s hard for me to believe right now. If this is how you react to some stranger who cares, anybody who wants to be around you must be out of their mind.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you,” you fire back. “Hate yourself as much as you want. I’m not just going to sit here –”

“No, you aren’t.” Sasaki-sensei looms over you, and your heart sinks so far and fast that you feel nauseous. He looks pissed, as pissed as you’ve ever seen him, his eyes narrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. “I warned the two of you once. Not only did you fail to save your lover’s spat until after class, you were both made aware of my policy on profanity at the beginning of the year, and the first-years across the hall could hear the two of you swearing.”

“Sensei –”

“Manners,” Sasaki-sensei snaps, and you fall silent. “To the principal’s office, both of you. And take your belongings. You won’t be coming back here today.”

He’s kicking you out. He won’t let you finish the lab, and if you completely miss a lab, your chemistry grade will plummet. Shigaraki might not care about his grades, but if your grades drop, you’ll be thrown out of UA with a semester left in your third year. “It wasn’t me,” you protest. “Shigaraki started it!”

“Based on what I heard, you were a willing participant,” Sasaki-sensei says. He throws Shigaraki a dirty look, but the vast majority of his disdain is reserved for you. “I expected better of you, at least. Get out.”

Shigaraki’s already packed up his things. He shoves his chair back and it lets out an awful screech as it skids across the tiles, but you’re frozen in your seat. Your heart is racing, and your eyes are starting to prickle and burn. No matter what you do, it feels like the wrong choice – refuse to leave, blame Shigaraki for starting this again, try to make your case? Sasaki-sensei drums his fingers against his forearm, waiting for you, and when you don’t move, he barks at you. “Now.”

Someone giggles, and the sound snaps you out of your paralysis. You whip around to find two of the first-years in third-year chemistry snickering behind their hands – Kaminari and Ashido, who get in trouble for talking every other class, whose grades are worse than yours, who are here on their parents’ money instead of on scholarship. You’re not going to stand here and let a bunch of rich brats laugh at you. You stand up, jam your things back into your backpack, grab the gym bag with your climbing gear, and storm past Shigaraki out the door.

You held it together in class, but now that you’re out in the middle of an empty hall, you’re losing the fight against your tears. At least you are until you hear Shigaraki’s footsteps in the hallway behind you. This is his fault. There’s no way you’re going to let him know how upset you are. You pick up the pace down the hall, then up the stairs, heading for the administrative offices on the second of the school’s five floors.

Shigaraki catches up to you on the stairs. He says something, but you deliberately shift your gear bag, drowning him out with the clatter that results. Then you pick up your pace again. Shigaraki’s legs are longer than yours. He catches up and repeats what he must have said earlier. “Are you happy now?”

You were right to drown him out. You reach the administrative offices ahead of him, but as you reach for the door, it bursts open outwards. Principal Nezu nearly collides with you, and you stammer an apology. It’s as if you’re not even there. Shigaraki, on the other hand, nets a remark from the principal. “If I find out that you’re involved in this, Shigaraki –”

“Involved in what? I got sent here from chem lab.”

“If I find out you’re involved, I’ll personally ensure that you’re sent to prison,” Principal Nezu snaps, and you can’t hold in a shocked gasp. Principal Nezu’s radio crackles, and he raises it to his mouth. “Yes. I’m on my way. Do nothing until I arrive.”

He motors off down the hall, walking even faster than you were. Shigaraki steps past you into the admin offices, and the door closes in your face. You stand there for a moment, stunned. You don’t know what’s going on, what incident Principal Nezu’s referring to, but you can’t imagine what would make the principal say something like that to Shigaraki. You know Shigaraki was in trouble in middle school. Based on the few things he’s said about what it’s like for him at home, you know it isn’t good. And you know that since he started at UA, Shigaraki’s been sent to see the principal for showing up late, for falling asleep in class, for mouthing off to teachers, for throwing a punch after someone else punched him first – but he hasn’t done anything that the other school troublemakers haven’t done, too. You can’t imagine Principal Nezu threatening to send any of them to prison.

It strikes you as really harsh. Almost mean, since whatever incident is going on started while you and Shigaraki were arguing in chem class. But as awful as what the principal said to Shigaraki was, there might be a silver lining for you. If Principal Nezu hates Shigaraki that much, it won’t be hard to convince him that what happened in chem lab was all Shigaraki’s fault.

You feel awful for even thinking it. You open the door to the admin offices and step inside, addressing the first secretary you see. There are twelve of them – with everything that’s going on at UA, Principal Nezu needs all the help he can get. “Sasaki-sensei sent me here to see the principal.”

“Principal Nezu just left,” Secretary Kurose says shortly. She’s always been nice to you before now. “He’ll see you when he gets back. Wait in his office. Shigaraki’s already there.”

He’s probably waiting for you to come in so he can start the fight back up again. You wonder what he said to Secretary Kurose to put that tense, frustrated look on her face. It can’t just be because of you, can it? “I saw the principal leaving. Is something going on?”

“Wait in his office,” Secretary Kurose says. The phone rings and she picks it up, shooing you away. You walk slowly, dejectedly. Partly because you’re hurt by how she talked to you. And partly so you can hear what she says as she picks up the phone. “Yes, the principal is on-scene. The other faculty have Chisaki restrained.”

Chisaki’s one of the biology teachers – anatomy, specifically, and he’s the youngest one on staff. The weirdest, too. They have him restrained? You step into the principal’s office and shut the door behind you, so lost in thought about whatever’s going on down in the anatomy lab that you almost forget what you’re doing here.

But you can’t forget for long. Shigaraki’s sitting in Principal Nezu’s chair, feet propped up on the principal’s desk. He leans to one side to peer at you, half a smirk on his dry, scarred lips. “Come here often?”

You grit your teeth. “Never.”

“It’s your first time. I bet he’ll be gentle with you.” Shigaraki’s smirk sharpens. He leans further back in the chair. “I had to lower this thing about two feet to be able to sit in it. Do you think Nezu hates everybody who’s taller than him?”

You sit down in one of the chairs you think students are probably supposed to sit in and drop your bags by your feet. Your phone buzzes from inside your backpack, and you extract it to find a text from Nejire. What happened??? I heard something went down in lab

I’m in the principal’s office :( you text back, and that’s when it really hits you.

You’re in the principal’s office because you got kicked out of class, because you were fighting with your lab partner, because you gave him chocolate, because you have a crush on him and it’s Valentine’s Day. You might lose your scholarship. You got rejected by the person you like in the worst way possible. And now you’re stuck in here with him until the principal gets back from dealing with whatever the anatomy teacher did. This might be the worst day of school you’ve ever had.

Nejire texts back – ten texts in a row – and you ignore them. Behind the desk, Shigaraki looks up. “You get service in here? I thought this place was dead.”

“I’m on the school’s WiFi,” you say. “Third-years get the password.”

“I don’t have the password,” Shigaraki says. You struggle not to roll your eyes. “I guess it’s only for teacher’s pets.”

“If not wanting to be in trouble all the time makes me a teacher’s pet, fine. I’m a teacher’s pet,” you say. Shigaraki scoffs, and your desire to burst into tears temporarily converts to anger. Anger makes you mean. “You know, you’re a way better actor than me. You did such a good job pretending not to be exactly what everybody said you are that I actually fell for it.”

You’re expecting him to return fire right away. You’ve left him an opening to call you stupid for believing any better of him, and any second now he’s going to jump on it. But Shigaraki stays silent, and without something to react against, your anger starts to fizzle out. All that’s left is hurt and confusion. “I thought we were friends.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Shigaraki says. “Except my friends are a bunch of assholes just like me, and none of them would pull the kind of stunt you did.”

“It wasn’t me,” you say.

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches. “I know it was you,” he says. “Why are you lying about it?”

“It wasn’t me.” You’re never going to admit it to him. You’re going to put this somewhere so far in the back of your mind that you’ll forget it ever happened, and every time you feel that pull towards Shigaraki, those butterflies, you’re going to remind yourself how you feel right now. “Why won’t you stop? You’ve already gotten me kicked out. Isn’t that enough?”

“Kicked out?” Shigaraki laughs at that. “I get sent here three times a week. They haven’t kicked me out yet.”

“You’re not on scholarship,” you say. Despair settles heavily over you. “I’m in the principal’s office and my chemistry grade is ruined – and they can kick me out for breathing wrong. Whatever you think I did, haven’t I paid for it?”

“They’re not kicking you out.” Shigaraki’s not laughing anymore. He takes his feet down off the desk and sits up in Principal Nezu’s chair. “When he gets back, you’re going to tell him I started it –”

“You did start it.”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna cop to it,” Shigaraki says. You blink. “It’ll be my fault, I’ll get detention again, and your record won’t get messed up. They’re not kicking you out.”

“Why do you care if I get kicked out?” you ask. “Do you need a lab partner that bad?”

Shigaraki’s jaw clenches. “No,” he says. “It’ll just be a pain to have to break a new one in.”

That’s what you’d thought he’d say, or something like it. Maybe this morning you’d have thought he cared, but by now you know a lot better. You slump down in your chair, cross your arms over your chest, and wait for the principal to get back.

Fourth period ends without Principal Nezu coming back, which means you and Shigaraki are now missing lunch. School lunches are expensive. You packed your own, like always, and you dig it out of your backpack and open it. Shigaraki takes his feet down off the desk and sits up. “You brought food?”

“Yep.”

“I want some.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” you say. Shigaraki stares back at you, unrepentant. “I’m not giving you my food.”

“I didn’t say I wanted all of it. I said some of it,” Shigaraki corrects, like an asshole. “Share. Unless you’re done pretending to be nice?”

“Maybe I am, since you’re done pretending not to be a bully –”

“A bully?”

“You’re trying to steal my lunch.” You put it back into your backpack. Maybe he’ll leave you alone about it now. “Most guys give that up by seventh grade.”

“Yeah, well, I was in juvie in seventh grade, so –” Shigaraki breaks off suddenly, then glares at you. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you say – and then, from somewhere at the edge of your hearing, a sound hits your ears that’s got no business being in a school. “Did you hear that?”

“What? I didn’t –” Shigaraki’s head snaps up. “I heard that.”

So did you. Two screams, from two different people, and a moment later, there’s a third. A chill goes down your spine, and you hold still with an effort, even when the fourth scream rings out. “People don’t scream like that when they’re just screwing around.”

“No,” Shigaraki says. More screams. They’re getting closer. He gets to his feet. “Get out of the way.”

“What?”

Shigaraki doesn’t answer. He kicks Principal Nezu’s chair out of the way, knocks everything on the desk onto the floor, and starts shoving at the desk, to absolutely no effect. It’s so bizarre that it takes another scream to snap you back to awareness. “What are you doing?”

“Blocking the door.” Shigaraki’s voice is strained. “Whatever’s making people scream like that, I don’t want it in here.”

What could it even be? A school shooter, like they have in America? You’d have heard gunshots. Maybe it’s a crazy person with a knife running through the halls, or a rabid animal, or something. Now there are so many people screaming that you can’t distinguish anything about the voices – male or female, young or old, victim or perpetrator. Whatever it is, Shigaraki’s right. You don’t want it here either. You leave your backpack off to one side and join Shigaraki behind the desk, giving it an experimental push. Sure, it’s heavy. You can see why Shigaraki’s having trouble. You square up, plant your feet, and shove.

The desk skids forward, and you keep pushing. Shigaraki’s not doing anything to help, even though it was his idea, and when you turn to look, you find him staring at you. “Are you on steroids or something?”

“No, I’m on the climbing team. We have to work out.” You shove the desk again, thankful for the fact that Coach Usagiyama makes you and the rest of the team cross-train at least twice a week. “Are you going to help? It’ll be faster with two.”

At first Shigaraki just stares at you, but the screams are so close now, close enough that your ears hurt, and blocking the door was his idea. Shigaraki lines up next to you and starts pushing the desk, and together the two of you wedge it against the door. Almost as soon as you’ve pushed it into place, something thuds against it from the other side. You recoil backwards, but Shigaraki throws his weight against the desk, keeping it firmly shut. “Let me in,” Secretary Kurose pleads. “They’re coming!”

Who’s they? It doesn’t matter, not when she needs help. You grab the desk and pull back, only to catch Shigaraki’s arm squarely across your chest, hard enough that you’ll have bruises. “No,” he snaps at you. “Nobody gets in.”

“She needs help!”

“You think she’d help us? No.” The door handle is rattling, and Shigaraki shoves the desk against the door again. “She can run.”

“Please,” Secretary Kurose wails. “They’re –”

Her voice breaks into a high, wavering scream, and the door shivers on its frame as at least three people collide with it. Secretary Kurose’s scream reaches a new pitch, one that makes Shigaraki flinch and makes you jam your fingers in your ears to drown it out. But some part of you knows there’s no drowning this out. Not the scream that hitches and splits. Not the low growls and wet, meaty sounds of flesh being torn away. Not the rattling breaths that go suddenly, horribly silent.

You can’t see anything that’s happening, but some part of you knows exactly what you’re listening to. Those are the sounds of a person being eaten alive, and before you can even think, you’re throwing your weight against the desk just like Shigaraki is, desperate to keep whatever’s out there from getting in.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #bloody valentine au #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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scribbly-artist · 2 days ago

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Warm You, Melt You

Summary: Jayce insisted that he and Viktor should brave the cold and work at the laboratory at the academy today. However, an unexpected snowstorm had them running home. Viktor was a bit grumpy about slipping over on the slick ground and was absolutely freezing, so Jayce wants to make it up to him and warm him back up, one way or another.

Author’s Notes: This was a long one stewing in the pot. I’ve been building it up piece by piece until this morning. The server has convinced me to post it earlier rather than later tonight, so here’s a little treat for everyone. >:)

Words: ~1,550 | AO3 Link

The door to the apartment flew wide open with the assistance of the strong wind the snowstorm had brought. Two men came tumbling through the open doorway, covered in snow, slamming the door closed upon entry.

They were covered in snow. Jayce and Viktor both had to go out today to the academy to do some work, which was clearly a mistake. They should have just written some notes and ideas down in the comfort of their toasty apartment instead of braving the wild weather outside. But, Jayce had insisted.

Jayce brushed off some of the lingering snow on his shoulders. “I know what you’re gonna say—”

“I told you so.” Viktor responded smugly.

“I know, I know,” Jayce replied with a sigh. “I didn’t think the storm would get that bad, though.”

“Mhmmm.” Viktor was brushing off the cold snow off of his clothes with a frown. The snow on his head was already starting to melt, dampening his brown hair.

Jayce let out a chuckle, patting Viktor on top of his head. “You’re looking like a sad, wet puppy right now.”

Viktor scowled at that, shivering. “This sad, wet puppy just wants to get warm. The cold, it just goes straight through me. That’s why I try to not go out in that weather, I’m not as crazy as you are.”

Jayce’s eyebrows raised at that, not taking Viktor’s bait of attempting to get a rise out of him. He let out a sigh, those emotions clearing as he brain stormed a way to warm each other up.

“Don't worry, I've got an idea.”

And Jayce did. He passed Viktor a towel so he could dry his hair (Jayce offered to assist him but Viktor did it himself), they both stripped down so they weren't in their bulky outside clothes, but in their cozy inside clothes. Jayce lended Viktor a hand to remove his brace on his leg and his torso so he would be more comfortable. Then they got all snuggled up in their shared bed, Jayce being the little spoon, of course.

“You’re like a human hot water bottle.” Commented Viktor from behind Jayce, making the other chuckle.

“I've always ran on the warmer side.”

They were basking in each other's silence for a while. Viktor eventually stopped shivering from the cold, and instead wanted to get into a bit of mischief as payback for Jayce’s insistence of even suggesting stepping foot outside the apartment today. While his core was quite toasty, his hands were still a little cold. Viktor’s chilly hands travelled, finding their way under Jayce’s shirt and planted themselves on his stomach. Ahh, his skin felt nice and warm on his palms.

Jayce involuntarily let out a full body shiver from the difference in temperature.

“Woah, your hands are still that cold?”

“Mhm… you can help me warm them up.”

And with that, Viktor’s fingers started moving. He started tracing patterns into Jayce’s belly. Soft and gentle, enough to make the other jitter with giggles.

“Vihihiktor, it tihihickles!”

Viktor planted his chin on Jayce’s shoulder, giving his neck a little smooch which only made the other only giggle and scrunch up. “How will the full surface of my hands warm up properly if they’re still?”

“Juhuhust leheheave them in thehehe one spohohot!”

It wasn't tickly enough that Jayce was trying to pull away (not that he ever did — and Viktor noticed this), but enough to get him giggling, his nose scrunching up and his eyes crinkling close.

Viktor let out a content hum. “But that wouldn't be fun. Would you deny a man his little bit of joy?” He did slow down his tracing just enough so that Jayce could actually think straight.

Jayce thought for a moment, only giggling more until he responded, “I guehehess I can beahahar it for yohohou…”

And it stayed that way, at least for a while. Viktor mindlessly traced patterns into every inch of skin his cold fingertips could reach — until they felt nice and warm. Jayce appreciated that now they weren't icicles touching his poor bare skin, no longer making him shake and shiver. While Viktor loved hearing Jayce’s sweet giggles, his ears and his mischievous side also wanted to hear him laugh without a care in the world.

Viktor started to squeeze at the little bit of tummy fat that he had discovered last time he tickled Jayce. It was a tiny bit of chub Jayce couldn't get rid of no matter how much he exercised.

And Viktor learnt that spot in particular was very ticklish.

Jayce flinched, then let out a laugh. “Vihihik! I was getting– USED to the trahahacing!” He exclaimed, his voice raising once Viktor squeezed that niiiice spot yet again.

“Need to keep you on your toes, Talis.”

With that statement, another idea to bug Jayce came into Viktor’s mind. While his hands were nice and warm, his feet were still as cold as a block of ice.

Jayce had no time to react to the blankets shifting as Viktor shuffled himself to raise his good leg up, planting an icy cold foot against Jayce’s bare back with an amused chuckle.

The only way to describe the noise that came out of Jayce’s mouth was akin to a prey’s screech from being hunted by a predator.

This made Viktor laugh, but he would be laughing from a different cause in only a few moments.

Jayce spun himself around in the bundle of blankets, grabbing Viktor’s cold ankle in a headlock, scribbling fingers touching down on his sole as revenge.

Viktor screeched just as loud as Jayce did seconds before. Maybe even louder.

“Hey, I think I know how to warm your feet up.”

“JAYAHACE– NOHOT THIHIS!”

“I think some tickling would warm them up plenty. I have you keep you on your toes, too. Don’t you agree?” With that, his dexterous fingers travelled up to his mentioned toes, tormenting the spot underneath their scrunching up that they were trying so hard to protect.

This drove Viktor wild.

“NOHOHO!! B-BACK TOHOHO CUDDLES– BACK TO CUHUHUDDLES!” He attempted many times to tug his foot out of Jayce’s hold with no avail. Viktor was just much too sensitive on his feet.

Jayce let up after a few more moments, giving his poor foot a couple more traces on his arch for good measure, releasing his ankle from his grip. “Seems like someone can’t take what they dish out.”

Viktor rolled over the other way in mock annoyance, letting out a dramatic huff. However, the smile glued to his face betrayed his actions.

Jayce snuck his way over to his partner’s side of the bed, his arms snaking around to spoon him. “Back to cuddles, like you said.”

“Hmph, after you already tortured me.”

“Hey, you did the exact same to me earlier.”

“While yes, I did, you deserved it.”

“What? How come?”

“For making me bear that snowstorm outside. I even slipped over on my ass from how slick the ground was.”

Jayce let out a laugh, and from the contagious sound, Viktor did as well. There was a comfortable silence for a moment, their breath syncing.

Jayce plopped his head down against Viktor’s bare shoulder, his lips ghosting his skin, the other letting out a shiver. Jayce planted a soft kiss on a mole he could see. “I think I can make it up to you.”

Viktor could feel his cheeks starting to burn, but kept up the charade. “Hmph… such bold confidence; you sure about that?”

“Oh, I know I can.”

He put his plan into action. Jayce began tenderly kissing whatever moles he could spot on Viktor’s back and shoulder. This led him up a trail to Viktor’s neck and jaw, kissing a few that were in abundance on the side of his neck. His partner let out a shiver and a huff at the affection. Not only did his cheeks burn a fiery red, but Jayce could see how pink his ears had gotten as well from his service.

Snuggling his face into Viktor’s hair, Jayce spoke up. “So, how’d I do?”

“Mmm, could be better.” He was playing it up, of course. He enjoyed pushing the other’s buttons.

“Don’t lie to me, your ears say it all.” Jayce reached up and gently traced his finger against the edge of Viktor’s ear, getting a giggle and a scrunched up shoulder from the other.

“Alrihihight, alright. You did well, Jayce. But don’t let it go to your head.”

Oh, it already did.

“Want some more?”

Was that even a question? Of course.

“If you would be oh so inclined.” Viktor replied, the grin could be heard in his voice.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Jayce continued his kissing journey — whatever skin on Viktor’s face he could reach, down his shoulders and back again, even a bit against his side and stomach. His moles and freckles were his guide on his devoted act of service. And Viktor was loving every moment of it, and he told Jayce as such.

This continued on from the afternoon, evening till night until they were both very, very warm.

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ww2yaoi · 3 days ago

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as of today, february 2nd, ww2yaoi turns one year old! I initially made this blog to promote my mota fic (which I thought absolutely no one would read) so the first thing I ever posted here was a link to my second clegan fic I wrote. that post got 3 notes (maybe even less at the time) but that fic is now my most popular ever at over 1k+ kudos on ao3!!! just goes to show you never know what's gonna happen...

this year has been a rollercoaster in terms of my interests. going from mota/clegan mania in the first part of the year to my insane web(gott) breakthrough around april when I read parachute infantry for the first time. then these last few months I've been so pacific pilled it's not even funny (sidsledge nation there are dozens of us!! dozens!!!). from the spring to the end of the summer I wrote about 90k of unreleased webgott fic then eventually started posting some other stuff on ao3 again (thank you for your support as always <3333) and although I've been on a bit of a fic posting hiatus lately, there are things in the works... trust

to celebrate my blog's bday, I thought I'd highlight some of my fave things I've made for this blog over the past year. because I have made A LOT of bullshit. this blog has been a passion project of mine and a great creative outlet. even if it's lowkey kind of stupid it takes a lot of effort and love to be this stupid :P here we go...

my fave edits I’ve made: joespresso, this artifact of ron livingston summer, uptown webgott, supercut webgott, winnix lovesickness, sidsledge pop girlie extravaganza, all-american b(ucky)itch

my fave fics I've written (not exactly blog content but my fic is the whole reason this blog exists): buck and bucky paint the town red, welcome to the stalag bozo, joe liebgott in peach lingerie, smooch stained webster, everything is better in the spring :)

my fave posts I’ve made: my web weaves, my webgott wednesday meme dumps, my beautiful wife home safely :), who's the other guy?, that one coworker that's just gotta go, his german's as good as mine, webgott as the five love languages, i suck dick loud as hell and also the entire invention of webgott wednesday

anyways, if you've ever interacted with any of my posts, sent me an ask, reblogged an edit, commented on a fic, left funny tags on a meme, messaged me about these shows, etc. THANK YOU!!! you make blogging on here fun and you will have a piece of my heart forever :) I am so grateful to the friends I've made on here (you know who you are I'm sure) and really there's nothing I like more than analyzing our fave ww2 vets like bugs in the dms

here's to another year of nonsense!!!!! <3

- meg aka ww2yaoi :^)

#thanks for following my beautiful baby you all get a slice of cake <3 #idk what to tag this #personal post

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carlos-in-glasses · 3 days ago

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Thank you for the tag @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba and @henrygrass🩷

I posted a fic yesterday! Most unexpected! Here are (more than) seven sentences from No Goodbyes - an origin story for the phrase TK and Carlos say to each other in the promo for 5x12. Our two heroes are considering what they can say instead:

"Hasta la vista.”

Carlos chuckles into TK’s hair. Terminator 2: Judgment Day has somewhat humorized the term, but it’s actually very romantic.

Until the view.

They’re quiet for a moment. The wind has picked up, rustling the canopy of the live oak that reaches their high window. Out on the street, engines, sirens, the city at night.

“I’ll leave a light on for you,” TK suggests.

“That’s a nice one,” Carlos says sleepily, “Because you did that the other day.”

“Yeah.”

“It was nice to come home to that.” Carlos cuddles up to him. “And you were all soft in bed like this.”

Read on Ao3

Open tag and tags below:

@paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @strandnreyes

@lightningboltreader @goodways @bonheur-cafe @reyesstrand

@alrightbuckaroo @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @welcometololaland

@rmd-writes @liminalmemories21 @ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom

@herefortarlos @tellmegoodbye @orchidscript @mikibwrites

@honeybee-taskforce @theghostofashton @never-blooms

@freneticfloetry @emsprovisions @ironheartwriter @sapphic--kiwi

@pimento-playing-hopscotch @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@anactualcaseofthetruth @everlastingday

@futures-tense @literateowl @butch-buckley @butchreyes

@annoyingcloudearthquake @rangersoup @carlossreaders

@the-126-family @hereghostslive @laelipoo

@nancys-braids @captain-gillian @kiwichaeng @carlos-tk

@sugdenlovesdingle @chicgeekgirl89 - If you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

#seven sentence sunday #911 Lone Star #911 Lone Star fic #Tarlos #Tarlos fic #No Goodbyes #cig fic #my fic

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marylight098 · 2 days ago

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꧁Blossoming Love ꧂

Summary: It was a normal day for you: tending the garden... painting... taking care of your aunt... being the healer of your village... amongst other things. That's until you find a dying kitsune close to your village pleading for your help; in a world where mythical creatures marginalized humans and humans tried their best to live hidden from them all. But you weren't just going to leave him there to die (even if you were full of fear). As always... empathy was one of the biggest weaknesses a human could have. And sadly you were one of those humans.

Rating: 🔞 mature bruh

Couple💕: Jeon Jungkook/Reader

Tags/Warnings 🚨🗯️: Fluff and Smut, Spit Kink, Hybrid Jeon Jungkook, Kitsune, Fantasy, alternate universe, Light Masochism, Dirty Talk, romantic, Animal Instincts, Past Lives, Oral Sex, Loss of Virginity, healer of the town, human and kitsune, Painter Jeon Jungkook, Painting, draw me like one of your french girls lol, Fox, Masturbation, some choking, He loves the smell of your arousal, Creampie

Word count: 15,541

Side notes: i usually write about dreams I’ve had. This is one of them. And if you see typos or something similar… english is not my first language; sorry 🤡 Im just testing the waters here… i usually post only in Ao3…. Meh hope you dont hate it lol

Pic of JK by @jkxxth1 (tiktok)

🌸

Your hometown was small; it only consisted of a few houses and a small plaza where everybody gathered to do their activities or do festivals. All of you were part of the small percentage of humans who still resided in this world full of mythical creatures; looked down upon because of your “weak useless nature”.

But the majority of you didn't care much for the opinions of the other races. You all knew you were so much more than what they had stamped on your foreheads.

You smiled to yourself as you painted the mountains on your canvas, thinking how lucky you felt to be part of these people. But that was not the only reason you were smiling right now… you were also smiling because you could hear your aunt fighting in the background with one of your chickens because it had pooped on her balcony.

You were laughing now as your aunt kept arguing with the chicken as if she could understand her. She quickly noticed, giving you a glare. But even though she was trying to be intimidating at first, she ended up giving in with a smile.

“Don't laugh, _____. This is a serious situation.”

“Yes, auntie… it's very serious that one of our chickens shat on your balcony.” You nodded and continued laughing.

She shook her head with a sigh and a smile, accepting defeat. “Could you at least bring me a bucket of water to clean it? My ankle still hurts from the fall. You would do me a great —”

“Of course, auntie.” You cut her off, giving her a reassuring smile. “No need to explain yourself; I understand.”

“Thank you, darling.” She returned the smile.

“I'll make sure to watch over your painting so the chicken doesn't leave his… “signature” on it.” She said, side-eyeing the chicken.

You laughed once more before making your way to the village’s well.

Your aunt wasn't the type to ask for favors; she always believed in being independent and doing things for her own growth as a person, and of course so she could give her all to the family and dear friends. So on rare occasions like these, you and others close to her, were always glad to help and return all that love she had always given you throughout the years.

For you, she was a role model you aspired to be.

“Great… There is a spider on the edge of the well. And it’s a big one.” You sarcastically smiled as you kept your distance; your bucket now placed on the floor as your hands rested on your hips.

Your village was in an open area where there were no trees. But around it, a forest resided and so did the well of the village… and spiders. Which was one of your biggest fears.

You didn't want to kill it. You may be scared of them but you know they are part of nature and you have to learn to live with them.

You thought of using a stick to get it off but you knew that was just going to be chaos: not knowing where it was going to run to. And you certainly didn't want it crawling up your legs or arms.

A chill ran up your spine just at the thought.

So you just decided it was best to ask someone else for help.

Grabbing your bucket, you turned around to go back to the village.

“P- Ple -ease help m-me.”

You had only taken a few steps when you heard the pleads; the voice was not recognizable to you. It was a man’s…

With your heart almost popping out of your chest, you quickly turned around to be aware of where the man was just in case you needed to defend yourself. But…

You were faced with a pale weak man whose face was covered by a fox mask and hands were placed over a wound under his ribcage, which had and was noticeably bleeding.

“A kitsune…” you spoke under your breath.

How many hours had this man been bleeding? And why hadn't he been healed? But most importantly of all: what was he doing here alone? He was a kitsune… a mythical creature that was supposed to be with his kind right now; not here which was really far away. Was he running away from someone? Was this a hoax?

“Please. I-I’m not here to— hurt you.”

He had noticed your uncertainty and alertness.

You didn't want to believe him.. you really didn't. You were scared of what could happen and the dangers you could be putting your village in. But you could see the sincerity in his eyes that stood out through the mask. Plus he was bleeding to death, what more proof could you ask for?

Dropping your bucket once more, you hurried up to him, placing his arm around your shoulders and letting him lean on you. You were struggling obviously; you weren't as strong as a man. But you could get through. And, thankfully, the village wasn't far away.

“Than—argh!— Thank y-you, madam.” He grunted as he tried not to put so much weight on you.

“Don't force yourself to talk. And you don't have to thank me; it's immoral to leave a man to their death per se.”

Plus you don't have to address me formally either. You thought to yourself.

You could tell he wanted to say more but kept quiet.

As soon as you were back at the village, you immediately began to call for help. Only a few of them came to help since others were intimidated that he was a kitsune; it was understandable. Kitsunes were known for mischief, being playful and deceiving. But you knew that was not the main reason they were intimidating. It was mostly because of their high rank amongst you living creatures; they were known also for their riches alongside other mythical creatures.

One of the villagers saw you struggling with the injured man, so he rapidly went to his other side to help you carry him. Your aunt was also one to respond, quickly going inside your house to prepare the necessary materials to help with his wound before you got there. She also prepared the large table you had for these types of emergencies to lay him on.

“Do you need anything else, ____?” Your aunt pointed at the items she had placed for you to work with.

You shook your head. “No; it’s all I need; thank you.”

She left the room quickly with the man that had helped, knowing it would be more comfortable for you and him that way. But even so, she stayed close by just in case.

Your hands began working instantly; cleaning up the area first. There were a lot of questions in your mind and they all involved the kitsune. How exactly did he end up here? Who was following him? Who or what attacked him? Who was he?

But you reserved the questions for later; making him talk in this state wasn't a very bright idea. Right now you had to focus on patching him and making him feel less pain.

Surprisingly, he wasn't flinching as much as you thought he would be; this is definitely not his first time being injured like this. Only some low grunts and furrowed eyebrows could be seen and heard.

After cleaning up, you grabbed your well-known elixir that you used for wounds like these. Us humans didn't have magic nor any special abilities. But you did have the desire to innovate and progress.

“W-what is that?” He asked, still having some difficulty breathing.

You momentarily looked up to him, eyes more visible since you are closer now. You gulped, remembering what you were treating.

You felt intimidated for a second, remembering all those tales you had heard and moments you had seen with your own eyes where creatures like him would take advantage of your people.

He noticed.

“I a-al- mm- already said, I-I’m not going to h-hurt you.” He gulped with his eyes closed as he tolerated the pain.

“Trust me…” he opened his eyes to look at you. “I would never hurt you.” He reassured you.

And, again, you could see the sincerity through his eyes so you relaxed once more.

“This… this is an elixir I made using an old recipe my village has. It’s for curing wounds like you have. But I will have to add something else for this one.”

“Why?” He asked.

“Because I can tell this was made by another kitsune by the shape of it and because it doesn't want to close. A kitsune’s main weakness will always be their own kind.” You replied.

“How… do you k-know this?”

“Because I’m the healer of my town.” You smiled at him as you opened the other elixir. “And I've treated a few like you before.”

“Like… me?” He weakly pointed at himself.

“Yes. But those were already friends or family with the village people. We don't usually allow Kitsunes here… or any other kind of creature… you know… for safety reasons.” You nervously laughed; still trying to make peace with him as if he hadn't stated enough that he is not going to hurt you.

Again, he noticed the way your eyes immediately averted to his wounds after speaking. He didn't say anything this time; he knew he'd have to instead show through actions his words. He just remained in silence as you finished with his wound; not wanting to stare at you so much to not make you nervous… even though he wanted to; the reason why he would take occasional sneaky glances.

But he couldn't watch you finish, as he soon fell asleep from exhaustion.

Your people were quick to ask you questions in the morning, worried about the unknown kitsune at their village; except for the few mythical creatures that resided there, since they didn't feel the right to judge. And you explained to each one of them about the situation, trying to remain calm as you did to not freak them out even more. You, yourself, were also a bit worried. But you had decided to trust and have the faith that the kitsune wouldn't take advantage of your village. His sincere eyes still hadn’t left your mind; you knew they were real; you felt it. So it was better to trust your heart rather than your anxiety.

As you finished explaining to one of the villagers, your aunt called you from the balcony of your house.

“He’s awake. And he is asking for you.” She called.

You gave your goodbyes to the villager and went rapidly to your house.

“Thanks for letting me know, auntie.” You smiled as your hand reached the door handle, but it was stopped by another familiar hand.

“You sure you’ll be alright all by yourself?” She asked with concerned eyes.

“I'll be fine, auntie. I'm still going to be careful so don't worry.”

“Ok.” She nodded, still noticeably concerned but decided to trust your words, leaving the area. But letting someone know to be attentive just in case.

As you entered, you noticed him standing as he curiously inspected the medicines on your shelf, one hand pressing on the wound.

But that was not the only thing you noticed. There were scars… old deep scars on his back. As if he had received some sort of punishment. You let it go; it was not the time, place nor situation to ask something so personal. It was not like he was going to stay for long anyway; getting close to him was unnecessary.

“Well you healed quickly.” You spoke with a smile, coming closer to him. But not too close.

“And that is thanks to you and these… potions? Are you a witch?” He asked as his eyes now laid on you.

You chuckled. “No, I'm not a witch. I'm just a plain human with very intelligent ancestors who crafted all those medicines and I happened to perfect them.”

“That’s… incredible!”

There it was again: that sincerity.

You blushed. “Thank you umm…”

“Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.”

He still had his mask on. You were so curious of what was underneath, but did not want to disrespect him so you remained silent.

“Can I check your wound?” You asked him.

“Y- yes, of course.” He replied as he snapped out of a trance. A trance you had put him on since he arrived there.

He was already shirtless so you were quick to get to the wound, removing its bandages first. As you did, you became really conscious of how close you were with this kitsune, feeling his breathing collide with your face occasionally. You were trying so hard not to touch him. But it was inevitable.

“Sorry if I'm being inappropriate.” You said nervously.

“No, not at all.”

“I don't mind.” He added.

You ignored his last comment, not wanting to think it had another meaning behind it.

He just said it casually, that’s all. You repeated in your mind.

After finishing checking his wound and adding more medicine, you patched him up once again with clean bandages.

“Ok so…” you clapped your hands together.

“Good news is, you have healed almost completely; which not only has to do with my medicines, but because you are a kitsune and kitsunes heal faster if treated properly.”

He nodded.

“Bad news is… you’ll have to stay a few days more to make sure it heals completely.” You added with a sympathetic look, knowing he probably wouldn't like the idea.

“But you don't have—“

“I'm ok with it.”

You didn't get to finish your sentence; he already had the answer as if he had been expecting your suggestion.

“Oh! Ok. Ummm… Jungkook, right?”

He nodded; sparkle in his eyes as excitement ran through his veins knowing he would get to wake up to your presence.

“You can keep resting on the couch; that will be your bed for now if you don't mind.”

“I don't.”

“Perfect then let me notify the village.”

You were about to leave when he stopped you.

“Wait! Can I come with you?” He asked.

“S-sure.” You replied, taken aback by his sudden request.

“Let me take this off first.” He added as he took off his mask.

Your lips fell apart, taking in the beauty the kitsune held as he laid the mask on the couch. It was true what the rumors said: kitsunes were born with undeniable and inexplicable beauty. But it was understandable since they were born to charm. They always got their way; it was rare to see a kitsune who wasn't able to seduce or charm their target; they had a gift.

“Don't wanna scare anyone more than they already are.” He nervously chuckled as his hand ruffled his hair.

Your curiosity had been fed. And you couldn't help but to become shy and self conscious. Being around an attractive person always makes you feel nervous.

“It’s— it's ok.” You struggled to speak for a second. “They will eventually warm up to you; we’ve had kitsunes before so don't worry so much.”

As he saw your reassuring smile, the kitsune wondered if the rumors he had heard about humans were true: that they secretly possessed the ability to enchant or seduce other creatures like himself. As time passed, more and more creatures of high rank were eloping with humans to the point where it was getting normal. Things were changing, but the hate and contempt against humans was still there. And all of you knew it was going to be hard for it to leave. But he didn't care about what other people thought; he saw all creatures as equals even if they were mortals. And right now, he was ready to risk it all for you.

You both went outside to greet the villagers; you being up front and Jungkook following behind like a puppy, trying his best to make people like him.

You introduced Jungkook to each one of the villagers, also explaining the situation and why he was going to stay a few days more. It was necessary and it was also common courtesy; it was a random stranger that had entered the village and the “cherry on the top” being that he was a kitsune. This way people could be alert for any weird movements from the kitsune.

Jungkook bowed multiple times to each one of the villagers with a “thank you” and “sorry for the inconvenience”. He had already conquered the hearts of many. Not only because of his cuteness but, of course, because of his beauty. You could tell some of your friends were already trying to flirt with him. And you just couldn't help but to shake your head at them. Of course, there were always the doubtful ones that still didn't trust him. But did not treat him badly either.

The two kitsunes we had were the quickest to bond with him, for obvious reasons.

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m Jimin and this is Hoseok.” Both bowed to him and Jungkook did the same. It was a common thing between their kind.

“Glad to see there is another kitsune as handsome as us staying here too.” Jimin said, making Hoseok roll his eyes.

“He is only staying here for a few days until he gets better.” You quickly intervened.

“Oh, ok.” Hoseok said, a little bit disappointed he wasn't staying; he could feel he wasn't a bad guy. But it was understandable to him and Jimin.

Jungkook’s expression changed as soon as you said those words and both of them saw right through their fellow kitsune. They both looked at each other, knowing all too well this situation: a kitsune falling for a human. They both had eloped with humans after all.

Well at least they hoped this was the case. They truly wanted you to be happy and being taken care of; both of them knew how devoted you were with your people. So they saw this as an opportunity for all that love to be returned to you.

After Jimin’s fanboying over Jungkook, you said your goodbyes to them and ended up in front of your house once again. But before you both entered, you remembered the painting you had left outside to dry. You needed to take it inside; chickens, pigeons and kids… they were all hazards to the painting.

“Oh! Give me a second.” You said to him.

The painting had turned out satisfying enough for you to showcase and you were proud. Even though you had some interruptions while trying to finish it… you were able to finish it on time.

Jungkook’s eyes followed you as you grabbed it and went inside the house, following behind.

“Were you the one to paint that?” He pointed, as you placed it on the table.

“Yes, I did.” You smiled, proceeding to cover up the painting with a blanket to protect it.

“Then teach me how to paint.”

You quickly turned to him, mouth falling open at his bold unexpected request.

“Pardon?”

“I want you to teach me how to paint, madam.” He said, taking a few steps closer to you.

“I… I’m no teacher, sir. And you are only staying for a couple of days.” You backed up a little.

“What if I wanted to stay longer?” His eyes sparkled.

Silence.

You had a lot of doubts at that moment. A random stranger had appeared out of nowhere and now he wanted to live there. And it's not like he seemed to not have money nor a home. You could tell that he was from a wealthy family because of his clothing.

“Why do you want to stay?” You asked.

“Just a hunch.”

“A hunch?” You repeated him, and he just nodded with a soft smile, showing one of his dimples.

Kitsunes were known to be very intuitive and spiritual, and you knew this very well. But you didn't think there was any purpose in him staying here when he clearly had it all. But you also knew that was a very ignorant thought. Still… why stay here?

A chuckle couldn't help but to escape your mouth at his absurd response. “You are a wealthy kitsune Jeon Jungkook, why would you want to stay here?”

“I may look like I don't, but I prefer simplicity over luxury.”

“And how can I trust you?”

“Give me a month and I'll prove to you and your village that I am worthy of staying here.”

You took a deep breath and exhaled, fear and worry crippling on you.

It wouldn't be fair to not give him an opportunity like the other kitsunes had. And besides… if he were to turn against you all… you not only had two kitsunes as your allies, but also a werewolf, a nymph and a fallen angel. It was a weird combination you had to admit, but a powerful one.

“I’ll talk to the village. But I do not guarantee anything.”

And his smile grew into an enthusiastic grin.

. . .

“I think we were wrong about him.” Your aunt said as you both sipped some chamomile tea on her balcony, watching the kitsune before you try to convince a kid it was time to go to bed after playing with him for hours. It was a funny sight indeed.

“It's only been a week, auntie. At least my trust isn't there yet.”

“Oh, come on. He has bonded with the village so well as if he had lived here for weeks already. People love him; he has helped with so many things.''

“I find it highly amusing how you were the most defensive about him staying here and now look at you.”

The kid had now started to run with Jungkook’s mask and he was now not only trying to get him to bed, but also trying to save his precious dignity.

You snorted out a laugh, making you cover your mouth with your hand, not being able to hold it in anymore.

“Don't come at me with that poop, darling. You like him too.”

“Poop? Seriously? And I do not like him, I only find him amusing.” You shook her head at her with a chuckle.

“You know I do not curse… and you do like him; just with the smile you're making at him right now… it says it all. Maybe… even more than a friend.” She sipped the tea right after.

You choked on your tea. “I do not— cough like him like— cough that.” Eyes watering.

She just shook her head at you knowingly; your reaction was enough for her. You weren't the type to get flustered easily. “Enough with the lying and go get me some apples so we can bake that big apple-pie for tomorrow’s showcase.”

“But I'm comfy right now.” You whined.

“And you are younger than me, so get going. Just ask Jungkook to accompany you like you always do when you are scared of finding spiders.”

“Hey! I can happily go alone.”

“Yeah, and the Earth is flat. Go on now, I'll be waiting inside.” She said, standing up and going inside as said with both of your teacups.

“Ugh!”

Reality was that you did want Jungkook to accompany you. Not only because of the spiders but because you actually liked his company as much as you hated to admit. He was funny, intelligent, caring, sensitive…

What the hell am I even thinking? Remember _____, he is a kitsune and they have the ability to charm; snap out of it.

Still, it wasn't that bad to indulge in those wants… right?

“Kai! Give him the mask back!” You scolded the child.

The kid immediately stopped running and stood straight as a stick, quickly handing the mask to Jungkook.

“Apologize and go to your mother’s house.”

“But I don't wanna go to sleep! The sun is still out.” The kid whined.

“It’s setting down already so you need to go get ready for bed; mother’s rules.”

The kid whined one last time, apologized and left for his house.

“Thanks for that. That was nice of you.” He cleared his throat. “… and hot.” That last part wasn't heard by you.

“Accompany me to the apple trees and we will call it even.”

“Scared of the spiders again?” Jungkook laughed.

You began mocking his laugh. “And do you wanna talk about how a kid took your mask and you couldn't get it back?

His laughter immediately toned down. “Hey! I almost had it in my hands again!”

“Yeah, right.” You started laughing again, remembering the scene.

“Have a nice time with the spiders then.” He smiled knowingly, turning his back at you as he began to walk away.

“Nooo!” You exclaimed at him, grabbing his arm.

You didn't see it. But he was smirking while he had his back turned to you. He liked knowing that you needed him. He wished you needed him more; In all types of ways.

Where the trees resided, wasn't so far away. But it did take a bit to get there. And since the night was starting to set in, you had a little more difficulty seeing even though you brought a lamp with you.

Jungkook on the other hand didn't have any problem with it since he could see at night, he was a fox after all. For that reason he didn't take his eyes off of you, worrying you might fall. But you didn't gladly. Even though he wanted an excuse to touch you.

There were already some lamps surrounding the trees and other crops since sometimes our people needed crops during the night for emergencies or just random hunger.

You quickly began to work using a ladder to lower the apples as Jungkook stayed on the ground waiting for you to throw him the apples so he could put them in the basket. At one point an apple fell on Jungkook’s head and you couldn't help but to laugh at him as he looked at you annoyed. But at the end he couldn't resist laughing too.

After you finished, you decided to take a break close to the nearby pond, drinking some water while you were at it. But Jungkook had other plans, he wanted to take revenge because of the apple on his head.

“Oh my god, _____! There is a big spider crawling on you!” He shouted.

You gasped. “What?! Where?!”

You quickly stood up trying to shake off whatever you had on you. But then you heard Jungkook laughing so loud, tears were forming in his eyes. And that's when it clicked.

“You ass—-” But your words got cut off as you tripped on a heavy branch and fell on your knees.

“Shit, _____. Are you ok?!” Jungkook’s laugh immediately stopped, quickly going towards you to help and check on you.

You sat on the ground and you raised your skirt up till you saw the knee that was hurting. And that's when both of you noticed you were bleeding.

“Fuck. I-I’m sorry, _____. Let me cure you.” he quickly grabbed your knee regretting ever scaring you like that.

Your anger had toned down; now you were more embarrassed than angry.

“I’ll cure myself at home, it’s ok.”

“That’s nonsense when I can just save you some pain by using my powers.”

“Powers?” You tilted your head to the side with a thoughtful look on your face, not remembering anything about kitsunes being able to heal. But, again, you only knew the basics.

“Here, I'll show you.” He said as he carefully straightened your leg for you to be more comfortable.

One of his hands went on top of your wound, being careful not to touch it, while his other hand rested on the backside of your knee. And a blue light began emerging from his hand to your wound.

“It will take a minute or two, so bear with me.” he said as he focused on your knee.

Gladly you didn't feel any pain. But the adrenaline from the scare and the fall began to dissipate and you were now conscious of where he was touching. You didn't want to think of it as anything else so talking was the best option to distract yourself from your body’s reaction.

“You know your little prank is going to cost you an art lesson, right?”

“Oh, come on. I’m healing you. I’m making up for my sin.”

“Pffft.” You laughed. “Don't say it like that, it wasn't that bad.”

“Well I am trying to convince you not to take an art lesson from our week.”

“I don't know why you want them so badly. You already know how to paint. Besides, you never pay attention to my lessons; you…always… stare at my face. I don't know why.” You chuckled nervously. Recalling all the moments he would drift his attention from his canvas to you, making you feel insecure. You kind of wanted an explanation of why he did that so maybe you would stop feeling so self conscious at your lessons.

His eyes lifted up to you for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but went back to your knee. “I… still need work and you know it.”

“True.” You responded, feeling even more insecure since he didn't comment on the “staring”.

The atmosphere had turned serious and you could feel it, mainly from him. You felt a little bit awkward because of it.

“Done.” The blue light faded and the wound had disappeared; you were completely amazed by it.

“That is amazing. I didn't know kitsunes could do that.” You said, staring at your now healed wound.

But Jungkook didn't say anything back nor did he take his hand or eyes off of your knee; you noticed quickly.

“Jungkook?” You questioned him, nervous you had said something wrong.

His eyes were trailing now to your still covered thighs as his thumb caressed where the wound used to be. And you could feel your heartbeat starting to accelerate.

Your skirt was now being lifted up centimeter by centimeter, slowly and steadily; thigh becoming bare to him before your eyes.

A broken gasp came out of your lips as his hand went up, making him look up at you. Both of you know staring into each other's eyes. The coldness of the night being ignored by your lustful warm body. Your leg was now fully exposed to him to do as he pleased. He didn't stop looking at you as his hand went up and down your thigh with a firm grasp, teasing you; getting dangerously close to your slit with some strokes.

“You still don't get it, huh?”

His head lowered to your inner thigh and began sucking on the skin.

“Fuck…” You said under your breath.

This feeling was new to you; you had never been with a man despising occasional confessions. Yes you had touched yourself, but this was different. You felt your chest fill with an overwhelming lust and slit starting to ache.

After leaving a noticeable red spot, he began kissing the rest of your thigh, momentarily licking a stripe from your knee to your upper thigh and rubbing his forehead against it, ending with a soft bite. After doing so, his eyes returned to yours.

“I stare at you because I think you are beautiful.”

“Not only because of your body but because of who you are.”

“I want to be around you every minute of the day.”

His hand was now stagnant as it laid dangerously close to your slit once more. “Be mine, ______.”

Be mine. You repeated in your head. And that's when you snapped out of it. You remembered they had the gift to get anything they wanted and for you this was an attempt to do so. So you immediately pulled your leg off of his grasp, leaving him with a confused look.

“I-I can’t.” You shook your head scared.

“What?” his eyes were now full of preoccupation as he saw you stand up and walk away from him.

“_____! Wait!” He said as he stood up and grabbed the basket with apples. But you began running, not wanting him close to you as you were scared of him and yourself.

He also began to run towards you calling out to you. He could easily outrun you but he decided to not overwhelm you and just call you from afar.

You continued running despising his calls, eyes blurry from the tears, confused on what to feel or do. It felt like an eternity running, even though it wasn't. That's until you collided with another body, you were going to back away immediately thinking it was him again. But when you were about to run away, the body held you still forcing you to look up and that's when you calmed down a bit.

“____! Are you ok?!” Jimin asked worriedly.

“I… I don't know.”

As Jimin lifted his gaze up to see what you were running from, he saw Jungkook. He was going to confront him until he noticed he was equally as confused. So he decided it was best to leave it like that until he heard you talk.

“Let’s go to my house, Erika is there too so you can talk to us.”

Hearing one of your best friend’s name gave you another reason to calm down.

You nodded.

Before taking you to his house, he gave Jungkook one last look. And he could tell he was worried and at the same time scared. And that gave him the confirmation he needed to wait it out.

As soon as Erika saw you entering through the door, her expression changed.

“____, is everything ok? Did something happen?” she worried as she guided you to the living room’s sofa for you to sit and relax.

“Darling, please bring me a glass of water for her.” She told Jimin and he instantly went to the kitchen to prepare one.

“Please tell me what happened, _____. Don’t leave me worried like sometimes you do. Give me the opportunity to help you once in a while.” Erika said, hand resting on your shoulder.

She knew you very well, how sometimes you would hold onto things to not bother anyone.

Jimin returned with the glass of water and gave it to you.

You drank up a little bit before pondering over what to say. But in the end you concluded it was best to open up to them. One, because you didn't want them to think they were untrustworthy to you. And second, because your best friend was married to a kitsune. And what could be better than advice from a kitsune, himself, and his wife on this situation?

“Erika… Jimin… how– how do you know when a kitsune is mind controlling you?” A mixture of worry and shyness was evident on you, so your eyes stuck to the glass of water to hide them.

But silence was your response. And anxiety was quick to show up.

Is the situation worse than I thought? Did they already realize who I'm talking about? Did I offend Jimin and their relationship? Was I wrong?

Your mind was spiraling with questions. That’s until you decided to look up and face them. And instead of anger or worry, you were greeted with a Jimin who was trying his best to hold his laughter in. But in the end failed.

And all that could be heard was his laughter.

“Welp… prepared to be bullied for the rest of your life.” Erika said to you.

“What?” You were dumbfounded and confused. You just wanted him to finish laughing so you could finally hear his answer.

“Pfffft, it's that what you think we do?” He just continued laughing.

“Jimin, I'm serious. Please answer me.” You grew impatient.

He calmed himself down, whipping tears off of his face. “Fine, fine. I'll calm down now.”

He sat to the opposite side of you; now you were in between them.

“Look _____, I don't know from where you got that information but it's incorrect. Kitsunes do possess the ability to charm but it's because of their natural beauty and art of seduction. It comes natural to us. And it doesn't always work on everybody. Erika… She would be an example. Remember? She was a pain in the ass to conquer.” He rolled his eyes at her.

“What can I say? I just don't give up this piece of ass that easily.” She shrugged and Jimin just shook his head at her.

Red… you were completely red from embarrassment. All this time you were only listening to assumptions from other people and anxiety instead of doing actual research. Like for fuck’s sake you had two kitsunes as you friends. But you just felt embarrassed to ask. Even so, the result was the same: embarrassment. You had learned your lesson.

“Hey… does that mean you never trusted me and Hoseok?” His eyes went into shock mode. As he slowly realized that maybe you never even considered him or Hoseok a friend.

“N-n-no… w-well—-“

“I’m hurt right now.” Jimin said standing up with a pout that was more adorable than intimidating.

“Listen to me! It was only at the beginning but as I got to know you guys I began to trust you with time. And seeing how Erika and Delilah took time to be in a relationship with you guys, then I thought: hey, they are actually trustworthy; they didn't use their powers to make them fall in love.”

“Do you understand what I'm trying to say?” You added.

“Next time just ask us, please. I know us mythical creatures have a bad reputation among humans, but I can assure you, not all of us are snob assholes.” Jimin replied and you just nodded, not able to look him in the eye from the lingering embarrassment.

“Remember, we don't bite.” Jimin’s gaze landed on his wife: Erika. “Unless you want us too.” He winked.

“You are cringe.” Erika replied to his not so subtle innuendo, making you laugh for a moment.

“I agree." An unexpected, but all too familiar voice spoke. All eyes were now on one of the open windows that looked to the balcony where a Hoseok now stood resting his body on the edge of it.

“What the fuck? You were eavesdropping?!” Jimin exclaimed.

“Yes, but that's because I saw the whole thing and got worried.”

“Wait… who else saw what happened?” You quickly asked as embarrassment began to cripple on you once more. You only remember running until you collided with Jimin. But you didn't pay much attention to your surroundings.

“Who cares? What you should be worrying about is how you are going to repay me for defamation and violation of the friend code. Try making me noodles for a week and then maybe I'll forgive you.” Hoseok said.

“Oh! I want too!” Jimin added.

“You guys are asses.” Erika shook her head but then turned her attention to you while the two men planned on how to bother you for the next week.

You had gone into deep thought, analyzing yourself and trying to decipher your feelings towards him. If he wasn't “charming” you, then…

“Do you… do you like him, ____?” Erika read your mind.

Your best friend had deciphered the situation better than you; of course, she was your best friend after all. But…

“I don't know.” you responded as you got up.

“Thank you…for everything…I have to do something now. I’ll see you later! Thank you again!” you said as you rushed out of the door.

“Where are you going-?” You heard Jimin’s faint voice just before you closed the door behind you.

You didn't answer, you just wanted to get to your destination which was anywhere where Jungkook was right now. All you wanted was to apologize even though you still felt ashamed for your previous thoughts.

Your feelings were unsure. But you were sure about one thing: you wanted him to know you were sorry and that things were ok between the both of you.

How do I really feel? The question persisted in your head as you stopped half away, pondering on it, but your feet picked up speed again down the path.

No, I had to see him, I didn’t have a plan of action but I felt after seeing him it will make sense.

Nearby you saw your aunt with the basket of apples heading to her house, which meant Jungkook had been with her. So you immediately went to her and asked if she knew where he had headed, but she also didn't know.

She caught up quickly to the situation, asking you. “What happened between the both of you?”

“N-nothing.” You brushed off as you turned away and left to keep searching for him, ears blocking out your aunt's voice.

You went to your house and searched other parts of the village but he was nowhere to be found. Anxiety had started to creep in and cloud your mind with the possibility that he had left or something had happened to him.

Taking a deep breath in, you continued down the path to the nearby onsen the villagers sometimes visit but at this time most people would be in their homes, it was actually mainly you roaming this path tonight like a suspicious person. But you needed to take a break and calm yourself.

You pushed the bushes away from your face as you peaked at the back entrance of the onsen, the sight took your breath away and stopped your heart momentarily. The sun was setting, painting the sky with warm colors, the smoke from the onsen rising into the air and into the last rays of the sun, gold tinting the onsen and the shirtless man drying his damped hair after he had taken his bath. It was Jungkook, although there was no one else in sight he was wearing his kitsune mask; his hair was in a half up do and his bottom hair was still wet. His torso was still bare; he only had placed a towel around his neck as he gazed at the moon. You could sense the sadness, even though you couldn’t see his expression. He whistled a sad melody, the sight appeared almost like a kitsune crying out to the moon for it to come out.

The shame had returned, killing your determination and making you unsure if to approach him or just leave. But the universe had other plans. Because as the thoughts ran through your mind, something else ran over your hands from holding the bushes, and of course, it was a spider.

You immediately shrieked at the spider, rapidly moving your hand to shake it off. After successfully shaking it off, you noticed the whistling came to a halt and your eyes locked on Jungkook who was now staring your way, so much for stealth.

You needed his mask more than him, to hide from the embarrassment.

Trying not to show embarrassment and reveal your racing heart as you neared him around the onsen.

“...I’ve been looking for you.” You mumbled, not fully being able to look at him fully just yet.

“Are you ok, though?” He stood up and went to you, examining the hand where the unwanted visitor had been.

You nodded and he relaxed.

“It was a spider, wasn't it?”

“Yeah…” you chuckled nervously.

He laughed but his expression dimmed as he remembered. So he backed up and went to sit in one of the benches and took his mask off putting it to the side.

“You ran away from me, I didn't think you’d be looking for me.” He said quietly.

“I know...” You replied quietly too.

“You can sit if you want.” He offered.

You thanked him and sat next to him. Your eyes couldn't stop themselves as they slightly glanced at his body, you had seen it many times before but why was it suddenly making you feel this way, as if you shouldn’t look but also can’t look away. You watched one drop of water slowly making its way down from his chest to his abs.

“It’s pretty, isn't?” he said as he looked at the moon that glanced at you both and the now hidden sun.

“Mhm…” Is all you replied as you secretly referred to his body.

“-about earlier..” He started, startling you out of your intrusive thoughts, making you blush even more.

“Ah..uh..um yes…” You stuttered.

There was a pause.

“I’m sorry.” You both spurted out at the same time. You looked at each other for a second until you both chuckled.

“You don't need to be sorry; I was the one who made you feel uncomfortable.” He smiled as he gazed at the water.

“You… you didn't make me feel uncomfortable. On the contrary… I…” You bit your lower lip as you blushed trying to finish the sentence.

“You liked it?” he finished for you; his eyes searching yours hopeful as yours shied away.

You nodded, staring at your fingers, not being able to look at him; taking advantage of the hair that fell on the side of your face so he couldn't see you blushing.

He bit his lower lip to keep his pleased smile from showing, gaze going to your legs, tempted to continue what he left unfinished earlier. But held himself back, not wanting to scare you again. So he looked away, taking a deep breath to compose himself as his grip on the edge of the bench tightened.

“I owe you an apology, Jungkook. I got scared because of ignorant beliefs.” You continued.

“Can I ask what those were?”

“I…I… thought you were hypnotizing me or…something.”

“Well that’s a compliment.” he smirked.

“Idiot.” you pushed him to the side playfully as he laughed. “I’m just happy I have other kitsunes in my life to explain stuff like this to me.”

“I’m also glad. Because if you didn't, I would've probably lost you after that.” he pushed the strand of hair that had been hiding you from him, behind your ear.

“No… I would've still come to you.” You chuckled. “You are too special to me to lose.”

Oh, how much he wanted to kiss you, but couldn't; not yet.

Your gaze then landed on his mask. “Why were you wearing your mask again? If I may ask?��

“I have a tendency to hide my face when I feel ashamed or angry.” He chuckles a little bit embarrassed. “I guess I use it to hide… my feelings and myself.” He said quietly.

You nodded in understanding; knowing the situation all too well; on your occasion, it was painting that helped you vent those emotions, turning them into something only you understood the entirety of.

“May I look at it?” You asked and he nodded, giving it to you.

You traced your fingers delicately on every feature of the mask; it was as beautiful as him.

“May I put it on?” You asked and he complied once again, never wanting to say no to you. But also because he was curious.

Placing the mask on your face you could smell his scent which made you very pleased.

You giggled. “I like it.” You looked at him, seeing he was smiling at you fondly and intrigued by you. Butterflies filled your stomach and thanked the mask for hiding your blush.

Not knowing how to deal with the emotions, you took off with the mask to tease him and avoid your feelings. “Now it’s mine!” You shouted as you giggled maliciously while running as fast as you can through the trees.

It took him a few seconds to react, not expecting at all what just happened. He wasn't surprised though, as he knew sometimes you could pass as a kitsune because of how naughty you were, especially with him and he liked that the most.

He followed behind you, not even caring to use his powers to outrun you as he was enjoying the chase and hearing you laugh.

But your running was brought to a halt as you encountered a nearby pond you had forgotten about and almost fell into it.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself. You were about to take another route when a pair of arms grabbed you by the waist from behind abruptly, stopping you.

“Caught you! I won!” He exclaimed happily as he tried to take his mask back but you wouldn't let him.

All that could be heard was the sound of laughter as you both wrestled for the mask. At one point you lost balance and almost fell on your knees, but this time Jungkook softened the fall by holding you tightly, not wanting you to get hurt like last time.

You were about to stand up again but he went on top of you, trapping you.

The atmosphere had changed in a matter of seconds.

“I said… I won.” His voice turned suddenly low, his eyes turning lustful as they bore into you, loving the way you looked underneath him. “Now what do I get in return besides my mask, madam? Surely there must be more prizes for the winner… or does the winner get to choose? Because if so… the winner has a few things in mind already.” His eyes then went to your lips, casually licking his own.

You were flabbergasted by the situation and not in a bad way. Your eyes also went to his lips, but since you were shy, you took the mask and placed it on his face and gave him a kiss on what supposedly was his lips instead and chuckled afterwards oblivious to the tremendous effect it had on him.

“There… that was your—-“

Your mouth couldn't finish the sentence as his lips went for yours immediately after taking his mask off.

The kiss was heavenly for you. It was your first kiss so it was a little bit hard to keep with his needy experienced lips. But, even so, you found your way to reciprocate his kiss and feelings; it was something you wanted as much as he did.

You whimpered softly on his lips, making him stop and rest his forehead on yours with his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed with his jaw clenched.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, relaxing himself. “You make me go insane, ______. You know that?”

Still on cloud 9 you just proceeded to caress his cheek and scalp. There was a brief moment of silence as he enjoyed your caresses.

“I have something for you, _____.” He broke the silence.

“And what would that be, sir Jungkook?” you playfully responded.

He laid beside you, facing you. Your eyes then went to his hand that was in a fist, blue light grabbing your attention as it went through the open spaces. Once the light vanished, his hand then opened, revealing a necklace with a little crystal jar as a pendant.

“What is that?” you asked.

“_____… I chose you as my mate.”

You sat up as soon as he said those words. You knew what that meant. It meant he couldn't be with anybody else after this, only you. Every tribe of kitsunes had their own ritual to choose a mate; you didn't know what his tribe’s ritual was but all you knew was that you were irritated by it. You never liked the idea of marrying an immortal to later leave alone to suffer for an eternity. It's not that you didn't agree with those types of relationships but it's just something you didn't want for yourself. You knew you were going to be constantly worrying about the future. Hence why you always admired Erika’s relationship by how fearless and in the moment they were.

“Jungkook, why would you do that?!”

“You already know the answer: because I fell for you, _____… and hard.” He sat up too, surprisingly calm to your reaction.

“Are you crazy?! I’m a mortal; I don't even last one century! You shouldn't have done that!” You were now standing.

Tears accumulated in your eyes, making your vision blurry. It was a reaction that even for you was unexpected; it made you realize how much you cared for him.

“What if I don't love you back, huh?! And what if I die tomorrow? What are you going to do then?!”

The tears were falling freely now. But they were interrupted by the pass of his caress.

“I already know the consequences, _____. And I don’t mind facing them.” He laid a kiss on your cheek, calming you.

“How… how are you not scared?” You hiccupped, wiping your tears away.

“Because my heart is where it belongs. And I knew from day one that you were my person; I could sense it as if… I had met you in another life; and I wasn't in the wrong.” He calmly assured you with a smile. “Now hold your hair up.”

You hesitated a bit but complied.

“This signifies my commitment to you; I want to marry you, _____.” Jungkook explained as he went behind you and placed the necklace on your neck.

“Jungkook, I don't think I'm there yet.” You shook your head and eyes began to water again; scared. But he continued clasping your necklace.

“The jar contains seven flowers. Each time you experience romantic love for me, one will bloom. Once the 7th has bloomed, that means you have fallen deeply in love with me and that’s when I'll marry you. In other words: I’ll wait for you.” He continued to clean your tears. “And even if they never bloom, and you want someone else… it will be ok. I’m not gonna lie to you, it will hurt.” He chuckled. “But knowing I'll still have you as a friend, would be enough for me.”

You couldn't understand how he was so sure after spending such a short period of time with you. You were scared for him; you didn't want him to live an unhappy life because of you and his decision.

But… At the same time, your heart couldn't resist feeling overjoyed at his words and the thought of spending the rest of your life with him.

Your hands then went to the pendant to examine it. It had flowers inside of it, seven different types of flowers about to bloom. You found it incredible how small they were; it was like a miniature garden inside of the jar.

“Can this be undone, the mate thing is only if i wear it, right?” You spoke more calmly now.

She is so cute. He thought to himself, chuckled and wrapped his arms around you, hugging tightly.

“You know... I have many things I love about you, but you worrying about us and our future, just drawns me even more." He smiled. " And no, it can't be undone because the necklace was made specifically for you; I've already committed to you to my creator: Inari.”

“Please ____, stop worrying. I've lived long enough to know that you are the only one for me. I’m going to be ok regardless; I just wanted you to know that my heart belongs to you.” He added.

You took a deep breath and exhaled, closing your eyes as your head rested on his chest; hearing his literal heart beat. You were overwhelmed and scared but you knew it was just anxiety talking. He was determined and you needed to remind yourself that he had lived centuries before you; that he had lived almost through every trial in life and that he was mature and wise enough to make this decision. You also reminded yourself that as long as you had each other, it was all going to be fine. And that living in the moment is what truly matters.

“Let’s go back before my aunt sends Jimin or Hoseok to find me; she knew something was off when I last talked to her.” You broke from his embrace. “…Or worse… Yoongi.”

“Who is Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, amused by your reaction to his name.

“He is a fallen angel and he is scary when he is mad.” You said as you walked the path back to the village, Jungkook followed behind.

“Why? He gets violent?” He asked, concerned.

“No! Not at all! He is just very strict. But let me tell you… he is very sweet under that hard shell he has and makes the best apple pie in the village… don’t tell my aunt I said that, please.” You said making him chuckle.

“Is it that good?” he asked, intertwining his hand with yours.

“Oh, yes! Wait till you try it! Yoongi has made it for me since I was little.” You squealed in excitement.

“Is that so?” he asked, intrigued but also in a trance with your beauty, like always.

And so the conversation continued to the village, without you realizing a flower had already bloomed: a Larch.

. . .

Everything was under a different light now. Every gesture, action and affectionate words were now felt differently. The feelings of love you neglected of him were now finally showing their colors, blossoming into something beautiful just like the flowers that rested on your neck.

Seven flowers… And one had already bloomed.

The second one, a Rumex, bloomed as his hand caressed your hair, both laying on your bed while he told you various stories from his childhood; one of them being how he had learned how to paint; and the others just showed you how naughty he was of a fox when a kid. All so you could fall asleep during the raging thunderstorm.

The third flower, a Spirea, bloomed when he told you how beautiful you were as you focused on your painting.

The fourth flower, a Buttercup, slowly bloomed as you both splashed each other with water in the nearby river and later on played hide and seek with the kids from your village; laughter and joy not seeming to cease.

The fifth flower, a Clematis, bloomed after reconciling on your first fight; making you understand that love isn't always perfect and that was ok. Because if the love is truthful, it is always bound to prevail over any circumstance or pride. That's what makes it so beautiful.

The sixth flower, a Sweershrub, bloomed when you saw him help an elder of the village to find and pick her favorite flowers for her balcony. Later on, bringing one for you too; one that he had found and had “thought of you” as he admired it.

The seventh flower… the last one… had bloomed as your hands cupped his cheeks and eyes went to his lips right after you had hugged him because he had finally shown you the painting he had been making; a painting where he had drawn you so beautifully as you concentrated on your own painting; it was so detailed and colorful, full of love… you just wanted to kiss him at that moment. But timidity overshadowed the courage to do so once again. And he himself had to restrict himself from kissing you as he knew very well that that kiss was just going to be fuel to the fire, and his body wasn't going to be able to be stopped from taking what it had been wanting. So he gently removed your hands and gave them soft kisses; apologizing before leaving you alone, wanting more from him; for him to love you.

“A tiger lily…” You stared at your reflection on the mirror of the vanity table, holding the pendant.

You sat there, amazed how all of them had bloomed so quickly. You also debated on when to tell him; for you it was a little bit embarrassing that your feelings were out there like that physically. For that reason you didn't always have it on your neck; sometimes it was in your pockets or as a bracelet. Although… he never paid much attention to it; he was more focused on just being with you. You did sometimes catch him looking but he would immediately look away. As if he reminded himself to not put pressure on you and just be happy that you were together even as friends.

There was a knock at the door, startling you since it was in the middle of the night. But then you remembered that Jungkook usually likes to sleep over. So you wrapped a blanket around you, not wanting your exposed skin to be seen, and went to the door to open it; revealing what you were already expecting: a smiling Jungkook with a pillow under his arm.

“I should start charging you for the overnight stays.” You joked as you walked towards the kitchen leaving him to close the door.

“But you won't because you like me being here.” He teased back as he entered, following you.

“Well maybe I don't; you always leave a mess on the couch.”

“But you enjoy my breakfasts so you won't kick me out. And I don't always leave a mess, madam.” He smiled.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Not after the over-salted eggs you gave me last time.”

“Hey! It was an accident.” He immediately started tickling your belly as punishment, making you laugh hysterically. You tried to escape his grasp but he held you from behind to not let you escape.

“Jungkook stop! I’m going to pee myself.” You laughed as your eyes watered; he grew weak as he began laughing at your comment and you took the opportunity to escape, and in that attempt to push him off, your blanket fell off, leaving you only on your satin nightgown that exposed your breasts through the fabric while a strap fell off your shoulder, making it worse for you.

As soon as your skin came in contact with the cold breeze, you realized what had just happened and gasped, backing away a bit, lifting the nightgown strap back up. You quickly looked at him, embarrassed. And you saw how his eyes had just finished scanning your body, going from your perked up breasts to your face. You couldn't take any longer the insecurities so you went to grab the blanket to cover yourself up again. But as you pulled the piece of fabric, something interfered: Jungkook's foot, stepping on it.

You stepped back, letting the blanket fall, looking at him with an arm around your breasts as you tried to decipher what he was thinking.

If a needle were to fall, it would be heard; silence and tension was all there was. But not a bad kind of tension…

He walked to you, taking extra steps as you instinctively stepped back, colliding with the kitchen counter. Even though you wanted him, it was your first time and it was instinct to hide yourself.

He removed your arm that covered your breasts, exposing them to him again. You hesitated a bit.

“Let me see you.” He stated.

Your eyes were glued to his lustful gaze on your breasts; his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he tried to restrain himself.

Softly he grazed your neck moving to your collarbone… finally landing on your breast, grasping it firmly; and without warning, his mouth went to your bud and began savoring it, despising the fabric that was in between. Your gasp was followed by a moan and slight twitch of your body as pleasure was felt.

Hearing you moan made his movements more passionate and rough, switching between breasts. He wanted to see and hear more. His sucks were loud and licks were lewd; flicking your exposed nipples and nibbling on them occasionally; all while he massaged your breasts aggressively.

As your lips parted from pleasure, he took the opportunity to collide his mouth with yours as your lips looked too pretty like that to pass the invitation. His hand then traveled from your breast to your neck where the necklace resided. And as soon as his hand brushed the chain, that's when he remembered.

His jaw clenched as he forced himself to remove his lips from yours, It took him every ounce of self restraint to complete that task. But went through it successfully, making you whimper softly from frustration at the loss of his sweet sinful mouth.

He rested his forehead on yours with eyes closed and untamed breaths as he tried to control the animal inside of him that only wanted to claim you before anybody else could.

“It was a mistake for me to come here. And I should stop coming over; it's dangerous for me and for you; I apologize.” He states due to the fact that it was getting harder for him to hold himself back, before stepping away and going towards the door at a fast pace.

“The flowers bloomed, Jungkook.” You made him stop on his tracks.

You wanted this too.

“What?” He asked, not because he didn't understand you, but because he couldn't believe it for a moment.

“All the flowers bloomed… yesterday, the last one blossomed; I noticed it today.” You smiled, excited but nervous at the same time.

He went back to you and picked the pendant, seeing every flower grown and colorful.

He smiled and lightly chuckled, placing his forehead on yours and hands on the counter behind you trapping you, relieved he no longer had to hold himself together when he was around you.

His fingers now held your chin, making you look at him. “You don't know how fucking hard was it to hold back and not fuck you like you are meant to be fucked, _____.” He said so casually; eyes physically changing and a pair of fangs now visible.

You weren't surprised by his choice of words since you knew how they behaved when they were in heat or just needy; sadly you know about this because you had to hear your friend, Erika, talk to you about her and Jimin’s sex life occasionally; more specifically when she had an “amazing night”; you always had to shut her up mid speech before you puked. But at least it helped you get to know a little better how kitsunes worked, or any other hybrid that was part animal.

His eyes… You thought to yourself as their pupil was now slit. Just like a fox.

“Beautiful…” You thought out loud, boring into his eyes; finally being able to see part of his fox side.

And that was enough to send him off edge.

“This nightgown doesn't hold any sentimental value to you, correct?” He asked.

“No, why—“

You gasped as one of his now exposed claws had cut through the middle of the night gown, ripping off the rest with his hands and pushing off the straps from your shoulders and throwing the gown to a side. You were now fully exposed to him. To you, it felt so weird to be naked in front of a man and you also felt self conscious. But the man that was in front of you was one that you deeply loved and trusted your body with; you wanted to give him all of you and you were ready to face and overcome your insecurities with him.

Your arms went to your breasts, but he was quick to remove your arms and place them on your sides, whispering to your ear, “Stop doing that or I'll tie your arms.”

He began tracing his fingers slowly starting from your hip’s stretch marks to the curve of your waist, passing your aroused nipple (making you shiver); ending on your neck followed by grasping it.

“Beautiful.” He repeated your words. “Just like imagined.”

You blushed once more; asking yourself if he had touched himself to the thought of you; the thought alone made you even wetter and wanting to hear more of what he wanted to do to you. Oh, how dirty you felt.

So the words came out of your mouth intrusively, “What else do you imagine?”

He was also taken back by your sudden loss of shyness. But reality was that, you were still scared. Nevertheless, you wanted him even so.

“Do you really want to know, darling?” The grip on your neck tightened, playing with his prey.

“Ye-es.” You almost moaned, loving his hand over your neck.

His mouth attacked yours desperately, connecting your tongues. The hand that held your throat, now positioning your head for easier access; his other hand pushed your crotch towards his so he could grind himself on you and get some relief from his aching cock.

“Go to the couch.” He broke the kiss, his loud pants overshadowing yours.

He had so much control over you; you complied so quickly. Yet, what you didn't know was the amount of control you had over him. Not only because of the smell of your arousal or your naked body, but because of the way you looked at him as if you were high on him; it was driving him nuts. He wanted to be gentle with you… oh how he wanted to. But you just made it so difficult for him… always.

Your living room had two sofas on either side of your wooden coffee table; facing each other.

He followed behind, eye-fucking your ass. He also grabbed the nearest canvas and some paints and pencils, making you curious of what he was going to do.

You stood awkwardly in front of one, waiting for him to give you instructions.

“You do not get to be shy now after you asked me what I think of when I touch myself.” He softly chuckled.

“D-don’t be an ass.” You retorted; somehow enjoying that you could still tease each other even during sex.

He chuckled again. But his expression went back to the previous one: fox eyes full of raging lust. It was like two different people.

An easel was already in front of one of the sofas since you had decided this morning to paint an idea that had come to mind… so it made it easier for him.

He placed the canvas on the easel followed by the words, “Sit.” And you complied.

He was on the other couch facing you as he grabbed a pencil.

Is he… is he going to draw me naked? You thought to yourself, only to be answered afterwards as if he had heard you.

“You asked me what I thought when I touched myself… then I’m going to show you; don't know how much self control I'll have, though.” He said sincerely as he took out his cock out of his lower attire.

You loved the way it looked with cum already dripping from the tip.

“I’m going to paint you bare before me while I touch myself.” He said, already beginning to stroke his cock, breaths of air longer and broken. “And I don't want you touching yourself, do you understand?”

You nodded, rubbing your thighs together, needing some kind of friction.

“But you are going to spread your legs.”

This is going to be hard for me to not touch myself. You thought.

And slowly, and a bit embarrassed, you exposed to him your dripping cunt.

He swallowed hard, thinking to himself that this was going to be harder than he thought. But he still wanted to show you how fucked up you made him all the time. Plus he was enjoying the anticipation before he fucked you like he wanted to.

His other hand gripped hard on the pencil as he began to draw you. He began doing the basics of the painting… your face… the form of your body… and then began adding some details. But the truth is, the drawing was sloppy since he was enjoying more tracing your body with his own eyes; admiring it; memorizing it and plotting ways he was going to fuck you. All while he was stroking himself, squeezing his balls occasionally.

He looked so beautiful: eyebrows furrowed and mouth opened as he cursed and breathed heavily while giving himself pleasure. You wanted to touch yourself so badly…

“Spread the lips of your cunt for me.” He panted. “I wanna see your hole begging for my cock.”

For you that was even more torture since you just wanted to rub your clit or have him touch you or be inside you. But you did it anyway, making him hiss and grunt as his hips thrusted forward instinctively as he saw how it was pulsating from need.

“Fuck.” He clenched his jaw.

The painting was long gone, abandoned. And all that could be heard was the sound of his moans/grunts and hand stroking himself.

This was too much for you, seeing him like that… and your slit aching for him… your fingers just slipped inside you without you noticing as you looked at him touching himself to you.

“Jungkook...” You whimpered as you closed your eyes for a second, focusing on the feeling; your other hand now touching your breast.

The crash of the easel, canvas and pencil with the floor made you open your eyes again. Jungkook had pushed it to the floor and was now moving towards you.

He pushed your back to the couch and held your legs while he aligned himself on your entrance, spitting on his cock to use as additional lube.

“Jungk—-“ you were going to protest because he was going too fast but it was already too late. His cock was already inside of you, pounding you hard.

“Shit!” You yelped as your eyes watered from the sting.

“I wont be gentle, _____.” He grunted as he pounded into you. “But I’m going to make you feel good, I promise.”

It felt so different from your fingers for obvious reasons. There was a mixture of pain and pleasure and you didn't know how to react; you were confused. But one thing was for sure: you felt full and in ecstasy with him finally inside you. And you just wanted more even on uncomfortableness.

Had you just discovered you were a masochist? Probably.

One of your hands went to his and grabbed it, guiding it over your neck. You wanted him to hold you there; you liked the feeling.

“You keep playing with fire, _____. Do you want me to break you?!”

You nodded, too overwhelmed by lust and pleasure to speak.

He cursed.

Your arm was grabbed and in a matter of seconds you were flipped over. You were on your knees, forehead pressed to a cushion by his hand on your nape. This position allowed him to go faster.

Since you were looking down, he grabbed you by your hair and positioned your head sideways.

“Don't want to miss those pretty reactions you make while you take my cock.” You moaned at his words as he thrusted harshly into you, making you yelp.

“Touching yourself and then asking me to hold you by your neck? What a dirty virgin you are. You really don't want me to go easy on you, huh?” He added.

Every word he said, your body reacted to it. And he knew by the way you were squeezing in on him, which you could tell he loved by the way he cursed under his breath.

“Such a slut… my slut.” He commented; his hand never leaving your nape as he fucked you.

He then lowered himself on you, pushing you down to the sofa, your bodies now touching as he pounded you deep. His thrusts were now more paused but each thrust was harsh and loud.

“Feels so good.” You whimpered.

“I know, beautiful.” He whispered into your ear and licked a stripe of the shell and bit it softly.

You were drooling at this point; so focused on him, his sounds and touches. You also knew for sure that your ass was going to be bruised and red as fuck after this by how hard he had be fucking you. Not only were you probably weren't going to be able to stand up tomorrow, but also sit. You were fucked. But it was worth it to you.

“I’m close.” He grunted as he picked up the pace again, lifting your ass up again; both of his hands digging into your hips; more bruises you knew you were gonna have tomorrow.

You turned your head sideways to watch when he came. But you were also enjoying how his eyes never left your cunt as it took him so nicely.

“You were made for me, _____. Your pretty little tight cunt was made to take my cock.” He panted, high on you.

Suddenly, one of his harsh thrusts came with a sharp pain on your shoulder, extending to your neck; feeling drops of a warm liquid dripping from it; it was your blood. He had bitten you as he came inside you. You were now full of his cum, scent and with a mark claiming you as his.

It was so fast that it didn't give you time to react. But the pain was still there, he could see it on your face. So he licked the area to soothe you and clean it, giving your neck and shoulder kisses afterwards. He still didn't pull out.

“Mine finally.” He said burying his nose on your neck, smelling the mixture of your scent with his; he couldn't get enough of it. He couldn't get enough of the idea that you were all marked up by him; it was satisfying.

“You ok, love?” He asked, checking your wound to see if it stopped bleeding.

“Y-yes.” You replied, still surprised by the bite. You had forgotten when Erika had told you about the bite they give you when it's your first time together; it injects the pheromones into you; marking you as his not only by smell but physically.

“You haven't orgasmed yet, right?” He asked, still inside of you, laid on your back as his breathing returned to normal.

“No… sorry; I thought that was going to be enough.” You apologize, somehow feeling guilty that you didn't come during the intercourse. But again, you were new to this. You only knew some things because of Erika.

I should’ve listened more to her even if I puked afterwards. You thought.

“Love, why are you apologizing? That is perfectly normal; please don't force anything; just enjoy my touch.” He said, finally pulling out, pleased to see that you were filled to the brim with his cum.

You relaxed at his words but whimpered as he pulled out, missing feeling full.

“Turn around for me.”

You were facing him now as he hovered over you. He kissed you… lips now more gentle but full of passion; occasionally licking your lower lip.

His hand then slipped to your cum dripping cunt, playing with your folds before going down on you.

“W-wait! What are you doing?” You quickly questioned as his head was now between your legs; still insecure of your body.

But he ignored you.

“What a pretty sight.” He almost moaned seeing your hole still filled with his cum.

“I'll paint this next, what do you think?” He smirked at you and you blushed looking away.

His thumb circled your clit a bit before spitting on it, making it easier for him to pleasure you. But he did not miss the almost silent moan you released seeing him do that.

He smirked, once more. “You really like that, don’t you? When I spit on you.”

“Can— Can you stop teasing me?!” You said annoyed/flustered and he giggled.

He chuckled. “I knew it… that look you gave me when I spat on my cock was enough to let me know.“

He gave your clit more rubs while he hovered over you again.

“Open.” He gestured to your lips with his eyes.

Confusion was evident on your face, not understanding but you still complied.

“My slut is so well mannered; now stick your tongue out for me.”

A ball of spit fell from his mouth into your tongue.

“Swallow.”

It was embarrassing for you how quickly you complied and wanted more.

What is wrong with me?

You were discovering things about yourself that you never imagined existed.

“You want another one, doll?” He asked, begging for you to say yes as he was also enjoying every second of it. He never knew he was going to like this as much as he does right now; but maybe it was just because this was another way for him to mark you.

You nodded, opening your mouth again. And he smirked.

Another ball of spit fell into your mouth. And this time he continued with a kiss, connecting your tongues.

Every touch, kiss, action… was guiding you towards your high and you were starting to feel it. And he could see it by the way you were grinding your hips on his hand.

He lowered his face to your cunt, taking a whiff of it. “So good.” He moaned before sucking your clit.

You were a moaning whimpering mess by the way his tongue was going so fast on your bud; taking a few whiffs in between as he loved the way you smelled. At this point all his lower face was covered in your fluids. And he didn't mind one bit.

His other hand was now stroking his cock.

He is hard again.

You wanted to touch him so badly too but you were about to come.

Maybe next time. You thought.

But you did have one request. “Jungkook, I’m close. I want you to— to touch my clit with your cock.”

He didn't think twice to do so, wanting to make you go crazy for him, to lose all sense of reason for him, to just think of him only him. He wanted to break you.

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He cursed loving how lewd you were when about to climax.

Occasionally he would slap his cock on your clit as he rubbed himself on your clit, making your body jolt from overstimulation.

“fu— uck, Jungkook!” You grabbed onto his arm while you rode your high on his dick.

You had come before by your own hands but this… this was way different.

Jungkook, seeing your climax, also came on you, strings of semen landing on your belly and tits.

As you came down from cloud nine, he left wet kisses on your neck and then switched to your lips, connecting them.

He broke the kiss, resting his forehead on yours with his eyes closed as he caressed your cheek with his thumb. “Finally… mine.” He exhaled in relief as if he had held his breath all these months that he was with you. Because even though he told you that it would be ok if you didn't feel the same way, reality was that he knew very well it wasn't going to be ok for him; he knew that being with you and not being able to touch you… kiss you… hold you… make love to you… or just watching you with another man… was going to be torturous and unbearable pain. But he was willing to go through it just so he could see you everyday and make sure you were ok.

“I love you.” You said to him, wanting to reassure him you weren't going anywhere and that your feelings were true.

He chuckled as he sighed. “That just makes me want to go for round two. But I know you are tired and sore already so I will save that round two for later.”

You lazily chuckled; body so relaxed…

He noticed your heavy eyelids so he picked you up bridal style and took you to your bed. The sudden gesture shocked you a little bit but later relaxed in his arms.

After he gently laid you on the bed, he left the room and came back with a damped towel and proceeded to clean you up. As he did, your enamored eyes went from his face to his beautiful body, focusing on his caring actions. But the scars of the injury you cured grabbed your full attention after. Till this day you hadn't asked him what exactly he was running from and who had hurt him; it had been four months already. There were some times where you wanted to speak about the subject, but decided not to; scared of making him remember something he didn't want to. But right now, you felt so in tune with him; like your souls had reached their peak in connecting… that it gave you tranquility; you just knew he was willing to share his vulnerability with you.

“Jungkook… what were you running from that day?” You finally asked, his eyes quickly going up to you.

He was definitely not expecting that question now but he was already preparing for it; he knew you both would eventually talk about the subject. But he didn't mind; even if it meant going back to such a miserable past. You were his and he was yours, and he wanted to share everything with you.

“My family.” He said as he kept cleaning you.

You were shocked; that was an answer you were definitely not expecting. You were expecting maybe thieves… someone who just didn't like him… or just bad people in general. But his own blood? No.

“Why, if I may ask?” You said, now sitting on the bed.

“You can ask all you want, beautiful.” He smiled, rubbing your thigh as a sign of reassurance.

“They just… didn't like the idea of me going against their— no, her word.” He chuckled softly, but there was pain evident in his eyes.

“Her?” You asked curious of who he was referring to.

“My mother, it was always her and everyone followed… my whole childhood consisted of her controlling every little thing of my life; even the way I dressed. But as i got older, I began to rebel; starting with my hobbies… that's when I learned how to paint.”

It's incredible for you how well he hid the pain and reality of his childhood when he talked to you about it. He always told you the nice memories but never the bad ones. And you could tell there were a lot of bad ones.

“I changed the way I dressed; I got piercings and tattoos… I always got shit for it but I didn't care; I could take it… that's what I always said.” He continued.

And damn does he look good… You were happy he got the courage to be himself.

“But my tolerance was cut short when she forced me to marry a woman from a well known vampire clan. Apparently she got interested in me at one of the many balls I attended. And since she belongs to a very rich and powerful clan… it was all about gain.”

He threw the towel away and went to rest beside you, laying his head on your thigh. He took your hand and placed it on his head. And you already knew what it meant: he wanted pets.

“So I ran before the wedding could take place. But she found out and went looking for me; she sent my two brothers to search for me. The commitment they had to find me was astonishing because I was already far far away when they found me. And that's… that's when my own two brothers that I grew up with, almost… killed me.”

His last two words sounded doubtful, as he still couldn't believe that had happened.

“They tried to talk it out at first but when I kept refusing… all they said was that they didn't have another choice. I was always the strongest one out of the three so that’s the reason why she sent them both. But… even so, I managed to escape and lose them.”

You wiped the tears that had not gone unnoticed by you.

“Damn, I'm crying?” He chuckled and you nodded.

“It’s ok.” You reassured and kissed his hand that cleaned his eyes.

That action secretly drives him crazy.

“I ran all I could; I remember passing a lot of trees. And then… I saw you. Even though I was in pain, once my eyes laid on you I felt that you were someone who was going to be really important to me; I could feel it; as if we had known each other in a past life. But at the same time I was doubtful; probably because my intuition was being clouded with my fight or flight instinct; but once I saw you turn back because of a spider.. I knew I was ok and that you weren't going to hurt me.”

“I don't know if to feel flattered or insulted.” You said making him snort out a laugh.

“So that spider technically made you trust me?”

“Yeah… I thank that spider every day. Because otherwise, I would’ve probably just bled out.”

That was scary just thinking about; knowing that there could’ve been a possibility where you didn't meet each other. You look back and you for the first time in your life… feel thankful for a spider showing up.

“In that case, I'm grateful for the spider too.” You both laughed.

Your fingers kept running his hair while his eyes closed, enjoying your touch like always. There was silence but it was a comfortable one. As you sat there giving him affection, your eyes scanned all his features. Still admiring his beauty as if it was the first time you saw him.

“You are so beautiful.” Those words just needed to come out from your mouth.

His eyes opened with a shocked flustered expression; he was blushing and moved one of his hands to cover half of his face as if it was helping cover the obvious blushing cheeks and ears. He always did that when he got shy.

You chuckled at his cuteness. “Too bad I'm gonna get old and won't match your youthfulness.” You chuckled again but this time a bit more sad.

His expression changed to a more serious one. “Why are you thinking like that?”

“Because… my body will change and… I won't be able to keep up with… you know… your needs.”

The harsh truth; one that had been bothering you for a while now but tried your best to ignore it; you wanted to live in the moment after all. But the problem was that you wanted to make him happy always; to please him and be there for him when he needed you just like he does for you now. You didn't want to lose that ability. Because you knew for a fact he was going to love you unconditionally but it was still going to be hard for you.

He sat now, placing a hand on your cheek. “_____, look at me. Your hair will turn gray and your skin will prune. But your smile won't change, the way you make me laugh won't change, the way you love won't change, your fear of spiders probably won't change either.”

“Hey!” You protested.

“And your way of knowing me so well… the way you have me at the palm of your hands… the way you turn me on… won't change either. All those things are what made me fall deeply in love with you.”

“Even if my ass and tits drop?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh my god, ____. Yes, I will love you even if your ass and tits drop.” he rolled his eyes and began to laugh and you joined.

You were in love; mad, mad in love.

“In other words… Till my end comes, you will always have my heart. Even after our inevitable parting happens, I'll never let go of you.”

Tears unavoidably fell from your eyes as you smiled; feeling so lucky and so loved. Was this the world reciprocating all the love you gave to it al this time?

“Besides, we can just make potions for stamina and endurance. If you know what I mean.” He winked and smirked.

You slapped his arm and began laughing. “You had to ruin the moment you fucking degenerate.”

“Only if it's you.” He stuck his tongue out, stopping it between his teeth with deviousness in his eyes; a playful flirty expression he tended to make.

He really never failed to make you flustered, shy or blushed even if it was sometimes corny. It was something that you knew that even if decades passed, you would still experience.

“I hope I get to see you in my next life too, Jungkook.”

“Oh believe me, I will always find my way back to you.”

And as always, that sincerity in his eyes was undoubtedly one of your biggest weaknesses. Your lips couldn't help but to reach for his.

Now the next thing was to plan the wedding. You didn't have any ideas yet. But one thing was for sure. And that was that Yoongi was going to make the pastries. It was a perfect excuse to make him do pie.

Sorry Yoongi.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook #hybrid jungkook x reader #smut #kitsune #bts #fantasy #human x kitsune #fluff #romantic #past lives #fanfic #one shot

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