#even though i disappeare sometimes im so sorry!!!!

[voyter]

STAGED FOR THE SEASON ⋆ ( 정국 / JJK ) !

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

going back home for the holidays meant facing his ex — the one he still couldn’t let go of. determined to win her back and spark a little jealousy, he brought you along… as his fake girlfriend.

⟡₊ ⊹ CHRISTMAS SPECIAL !

word count. 18.3k words warnings. fake dating au. angst. friends to lovers. jk not over his ex. FLIRTING !! TENSION !! jungkook comes to his senses a lot in this. angst. lots of teasing. smut. unprotected sex. oral (both!receiving). quiet sex hehe. munch jk again sorry i love an eater. a little male masturbation. he looks at her while he strokes it bites lip. dom!jk (still a sub enthusiast tho). oh did i mention angst ?

ana's notes. merry christmas in february !! im crying THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING. i swear this was originally supposed to be posted in december, but i ended scrapping after scrapping. that led to the writing taking much longer than i thought it would and i actually still hate this LMFAO but i did not spend all that time on this just to not post it. so here it is. just .. here JUST TAKE IT. next fic will make up for this mess, i promise x

Jungkook was a wild individual, his life practically a highlight reel of impulsive decisions and stories that somehow always ended with him escaping a war. From his childhood to his teenage years and everything in between, you’d heard your fair share of them — events so absurd that you sometimes questioned if they were even real.

But as wild and ridiculous as those stories were, nothing could have prepared you for what he was saying right now.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for Christmas.”

You froze, staring at him in pure bewilderment. It was so random — like, literally, what the fuck?

The two of you had been lounging comfortably on your couch, a shared blanket draped across your laps as you caught up on each other's lives. The conversation had been perfectly ordinary. He’d just asked about your holiday plans, and you’d told him you were spending your holiday break from work in your apartment.  

And then he said this, like it was nothing.  

Now, judging by the way you were looking at him — eyes wide, utterly dumbfounded — Jungkook couldn’t tell if there was a ghost standing behind him or if his question was genuinely out of pocket.

Jungkook shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Well?”  

You blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his words. Is he okay? “I’m sorry?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but just hear me out,” he said, sitting upright in one swift motion, his previously slouched posture disappearing as if the words themselves had straightened his spine. “I’m going home for the holidays, and you know how my mom is close friends with my ex's mom, right?”  

“Mhm…” you hum slowly, even though you already know where this is headed.

“Well, my mom invited her over on Christmas… and Misa’s gonna be there,” he says, the words spilling out like a reluctant confession. His gaze shifts to the floor, as though the hardwood could offer him some kind of solace or escape from your reaction. There’s a slight edge to his voice, like he’s bracing himself for your judgment, and his fingers tug at the thread on his jeans.  

“Kook…” Your voice drops to a quieter tone, heavy with exasperation, before a sigh escapes your lips.  

Now, you’ve heard that name a few times. And each time you did, it felt like an unwanted stone hurled into calm waters, rippling outward until it disrupted everything.  

You didn’t dislike Misa herself — how could you, when you’d never even met her? What you couldn’t stand was the effect her name had on Jungkook. It wasn’t just sadness or nostalgia that overtook him; it was something deeper, something heavier. Like a wound that had never fully healed, her name had the power to knock the air out of him, leaving him raw and vulnerable every time.

The first time you heard of Misa was through Jimin and Taehyung. According to them, Jungkook and Misa had been childhood friends who started dating in high school. But that love didn’t survive graduation. They were heading to different universities — she to Ulsan, and him in Seoul — and while Jungkook had begged her to make it work, she never wanted to do long distance. It was practical, maybe even logical, but it had wrecked him.

Jungkook never pursued relationships after her; he didn’t see the point. Love, in his eyes, was a gamble he wasn’t willing to take again. Instead, he sought out fleeting connections with girls he found attractive, indulging in temporary pleasures without the weight of commitment. It wasn’t fair, and deep down, he knew it. But as messed up as it was, he couldn’t stop himself.  

Because he didn’t want to love anyone else.  

Love had burned him once — left him raw, scarred, and reluctant to open that part of himself again. It was easier this way, safer. No expectations, no vulnerability, no chance of heartbreak. Just meaningless hookups that kept the loneliness at bay for a little while.  

“You already know what I’m going to say,” he says quietly, his voice subdued yet heavy with expectation.  

“Yeah, I do,” you snap back, unable to hide the sharp edge in your tone. There’s a bite of attitude behind your words, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

And of course, you do. He wanted you to come with him, to play the part, to make her jealous. Everything Jungkook did seemed to circle back to her. Every action, every thought, every breath — it all revolved around Misa. She was an unshakable presence in his life, even in her absence, consuming his every waking second.  

And that’s what stung. Not for yourself, but for him. Because she wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place if she thought about him the way he still thought about her. If she cared even a fraction as much as he still does.  

You could only stare at him, your expression a mixture of pity and quiet disappointment. He had so much to give, so much love that could be directed toward someone who might actually deserve it. Yet here he was, stuck in a loop, still thinking about someone who chose to let him go.  

“I know,” he says softly. And the worst part? He really does know. He knows exactly what you’re thinking because he’s heard it all before. And it frustrates you to no end because knowing and doing are two very different things.

You’ve never held back from telling him exactly how you feel. As one of his best friends, you had every right to be upset about it. Watching him go through girls like they’re disposable wasn’t just reckless; it was self destructive. You’d made it painfully clear how detrimental it was for him to still be hung up on his ex, and even more so to avoid meaningful connections altogether. But despite your blunt honesty, Jungkook has never made an effort to truly change.

He never takes the time to get to know the women he hooks up with — it’s always a simple fuck and go. It’s a vicious cycle that leaves no room for growth or healing. But Jungkook’s stubbornness is both his armor and his downfall.

Before you could scold him, you catch yourself. You take a breath, reminding yourself that emotions, especially Jungkook’s, aren’t something he can just flip on and off. Instead of letting your frustration bubble over, you pause, choosing empathy. You let yourself step into his shoes, imagining the weight he must carry, the way old memories cling like cobwebs in the corners of his mind.

Jungkook has always been there for you, through thick and thin.

Now, it was your turn to return the favor.

“I’ll do it,” you said, finally breaking the heavy silence.

His head snapped up so fast you flinched, half expecting him to pull a muscle. His hair bounced with the sudden movement, and his eyes were wide, shining with a mix of disbelief and cautious hope. “Really?”

“This is very stupid, Jungkook,” you replied, your tone firm but tinged with a resigned gentleness.  

“It is,” he agreed without hesitation, nodding like a chastised child. Because he knew you were right — it was stupid, immature even. The two of you were grown adults for crying out loud, and here he was asking you to fake being his girlfriend just to get under his ex’s skin.

You only sighed, the weight of your decision settling over you. “Then I guess we should lay down some boundaries,” you said, your voice steady, though your stomach churned with unease.  

His face lit up with a bright, almost childlike smile, his eyes sparkling with hope. He still couldn’t believe you were agreeing to this. “Right-”

“I’m not kissing you,” you interrupted, your tone firm.

The joy drained from his face in an instant, replaced by pure, unfiltered horror. “What? No one is going to believe us if you don’t let me kiss you!”  

“Then we’ll just say we aren’t comfortable with PDA,” you countered with a shrug, as if it were the simplest solution in the world.  

“I always kissed Misa in front of our parents!” he argued, a faint whine creeping into his voice.

“Then we’ll say I’m not comfortable with PDA,” you shot back, emphasizing your words. “Kook, I just don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly nodded. As much as he hated the idea of limiting the act, he understood where you were coming from. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. “Fine. Can I at least kiss you on the cheek?”  

“Yeah,” you said, offering a small smile.  

“Great,” he replied, perking up slightly. “We must be touching at all times. I was always very clingy with Misa, so it needs to look natural…”  

You almost grimaced at the thought. You let out a long sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. Touching at all times. But keep your hands where I can see them.”  

“Relax,” Jungkook said with a grin, leaning back smugly. “I’m not a perv. Maybe we should practice-”

“If you touch me, I will hit you,” you cut him off, glaring.

Days after your little agreement with Jungkook, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, the heater humming softly as it worked to fight the cold winter air that seeped through the windows. The trunk was packed tightly with your bags, a visible reminder of the journey ahead, and the winding highway stretched endlessly before you under the dull gray sky.  

Initially, the plan was simple: head to Busan on Christmas day, just in time for dinner. But Jungkook’s mom insisted that you both arrive a day earlier to rest after the long drive. The suggestion didn’t bother you — in fact, it seemed practical. Yet, it also meant one extra day to brace yourself for the moment you’d stand beside Jungkook as he faced the girl who broke his heart.

With an acrylic nail caught between your teeth, you stared out the window, taking in the scenery as it changed around you. It didn’t snow here; the air was crisp, the breeze carried faint traces of salt from the sea. The bustling cityscape of Seoul was a stark contrast to the quieter, more laid back atmosphere of Busan. You found yourself admiring the differences, marveling at how a different part of Korea could feel so distinct yet familiar.

The person beside you was lost in thought, grappling with something entirely different.

In just about a day, Jungkook would come face to face with the girl he once swore was the love of his life — the one who had ruined love for him. Nine years ago. Almost an entire era of his existence had passed since they last saw each other, back when he was just a seventeen year old kid. She had been the center of his world once, and even after she broke up with him, she still lingered in his mind.

During the midst of the long drive, you’d fallen asleep. The steady hum of the car and the rhythm of the road had cradled you into a peaceful slumber. But as the journey came to an end, so did your nap, when you felt a gentle pressure on your arm.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the soft glow of the garage door in front of the driveway. You blinked a few times, your vision adjusting to the new surroundings, before pulling your headphones off your head.

“Sleep well?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze of sleep, his smirk evident even before you looked at him.

“Mmm, sitting up and with my neck bent? Slept so good,” you tease, a sarcastic smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you stretch your stiff limbs.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful edge to his response. He presses the button to turn off the car. “Let’s go inside. I’m fucking beat,” he says, his voice casual, but the tiredness in his tone betrays how much he’s ready to be done with the drive.

You stretch one more time, a satisfying crack running down your spine as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You glance out the window, your eyes falling on Jungkook’s childhood home. It’s a beautiful house, its exterior glowing warmly under the lights, casting long shadows. 

It’s a home that likely holds countless memories for him. You can almost imagine the sound of laughter, of family dinners and the warmth of his parents’ love. The kind of place where so many moments, both small and monumental, are tucked away in corners.

“Coming?” Jungkook calls, his voice carrying a teasing edge. You snap your head toward him, catching the sight of him leaning down, his head poking just enough from the car door so he can see you clearly. His mischievous grin matches the playful tone in his voice. “Or you gonna sleep in here some more?”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Keep fucking with me, and I’ll drive your car back home and leave you here,” you warn, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He clicks his tongue in mock frustration, rolling his eyes dramatically, clearly amused by your threat. “Girl, hurry up,” he retorts, the playful irritation in his tone betraying how little he actually means it.

You chuckle before you grab your purse and swing the door open. The cold air rushes in, sharp and biting against your skin, but you barely notice as the playful tension between the two of you lingers in the space between the car and the house.

You shut the car door with a soft thud before making your way to the back of the car. Jungkook is already there, pulling out the suitcases like it’s second nature — his sleek black one in one hand and your unmistakeable pink one in the other.

“I could’ve got it myself, you know,” you say, reaching out to press the button that automatically closes the trunk.

“Sure you could’ve,” he quips without missing a beat, effortlessly balancing both suitcases as if they weigh nothing. “But I can’t have my girlfriend going around carrying her stuff. That’s what I’m here for.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, though the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrays your true feelings. You two weren’t even inside yet and he was already playing boyfriend. “You’re annoying.”

Jungkook merely smirks, adjusting his grip on the luggage with practiced ease. "Yet, here you are," he teases, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. Without waiting for a reply, he strides past you, carrying both suitcases as if they weighed nothing. Of course, he wasn't just dragging them by the wheels; Jungkook wouldn't dare let them get scratched up. He doesn't even glance back as he says over his shoulder, "And you can't say that to me. I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

You let out a soft laugh, biting back a retort, and simply trail after him, the cold breeze nips at your cheeks as the warmth of his playful energy draws you closer.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon not long before you woke up. The neighborhood was peaceful, a stark contrast to the buzz of the city you were used to. It felt like time moved slower here, as if everyone respected the rhythm of each other's lives. The only sound came from the faint crunch of pavement beneath your Uggs, a small echo that followed you as you walked behind Jungkook toward the front door.

Jungkook reached the door first, the suitcases set down on each side of him as he pressed the doorbell. The sound of the melodic chime was faint but clear, cutting through the stillness of the night. You barely had a second to process it before the door swung open.

The first thing that hit you wasn't the warmth of the house or the inviting scent of cinnamon, pumpkin spice candles, or the faint pine from the Christmas tree you could see in the distance.

No, it was her.

The woman who opened the door was stunning. She stood there, framed by the doorway, dressed elegantly in a red blouse that complemented her bold, perfectly applied red lipstick. Her silky, dark hair fell in long waves around her shoulders, each strand catching the soft glow of the porch light. Her skin was radiant, practically glowing, free of any signs of age or stress — you just knew her husband didn’t stress her out.

"Ah, finally! I was wondering when you'd be here," she exclaims, her voice warm and inviting as she immediately pulls Jungkook into a hug.

"Hi, Ma," he chuckles softly, his tone affectionate and familiar.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to plant a kiss on his cheek, her smile widening as she takes a moment to admire her youngest son. Her eyes then shift to you, and her expression brightens even more. It's as if she already knows you, her warmth extending effortlessly as she steps forward and wraps you in a hug without hesitation.

You glance up at Jungkook over her shoulder, and he's already mouthing a quick, sheepish apology behind her back. Caught off guard, you freeze for a moment, but the comforting scent of her home wafting from her brings you ease. You lean into the hug, letting her warmth envelop you.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, finding your hands and holding them. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says softly, saying your name in a tone that feels so sweet, so genuine, that it tugs at your chest. Her gaze is filled with awe, as if she’s seeing someone she’s already heard so much about, and the kindness in her eyes makes you smile despite yourself.

"It's nice to meet you, too," you chuckle softly, your voice warm and genuine. Her kindness is infectious, and you can't help but feel at ease. "Thank you for having me over," you add, meaning every word.

"Oh, of course!" she exclaims, her excitement bubbling over as she grabs your hands tighter. "I'm so glad you could make it. It's been far too long since I've seen this one with someone."

"Mom," Jungkook says, his tone edged with a mixture of embarrassment and impatience, ready for her to end her swooning.

"Alright, alright," she relents, though the affectionate smile on her face doesn't waver. Releasing your hands, she gestures toward the doorway with a gentle nudge at your shoulder.

"You two must be tired. Let's get you inside."

You step forward as she guides you in, the warmth of her gesture matching the atmosphere inside. Jungkook stays a step behind, standing at the side of the doorway to let you and his mom enter first.

The moment you step inside, the welcoming heat of the house envelops you, melting away the lingering cold that clings stubbornly to your layers of sweaters. With a quiet sigh of relief, you slip off your shoes, letting the warmth of the carpet floors guide you further in. Each step feels like an invitation, the comforting atmosphere drawing you deeper into its embrace.

The living room greets you with a cozy glow, the Christmas tree taking center stage. It's adorned with ornaments, from handmade crafts to glimmering baubles, all illuminated by warm string lights that cast soft reflections onto the nearby walls.

The kitchen's dim lighting spills softly into the space, complementing the golden ambiance. Picture frames hang on the walls, each one a memory.

Mrs. Jeon dismisses you both, urging you two to go upstairs and wind down before dinner. You and Jungkook hum in acknowledgment before he starts up the stairs, his hands gripping the handles of the luggage. You follow closely behind, your pace matching his slower one as he hauls the bags up. The steps creak softly beneath your weight, and your eyes wander to the walls, taking in the baby pictures framed and lined up with care.  

“You were such a cute kid,” you tease, a fond smile curling your lips. “What happened?”  

Jungkook glances back at you, feigning offense. “Don’t act like I’m ugly now.”  

“I didn’t say you were,” you reply sweetly, trailing just behind him.

“So, I’m not ugly?” Jungkook asks, setting his suitcase on the ground before turning the knob and pushing open the door to his bedroom.  

“That’s also not what I said,” you reply, a hint of amusement in your tone.  

He picks up his suitcase again, carrying it into the room and placing it neatly beside your pink one. “Kind of is,” he teases, his words drawn out as if savoring the moment. “Keep it up, and I might start thinking you have a crush on me.”  

“Ugh,” you groan dramatically, scrunching your nose. “You wish.”  

He chuckles, the sound light and carefree, as he strides over to his nightstand and flicks on the lamp.  

The warm glow washes over the room, casting a nostalgic ambiance. Your eyes sweep across his childhood bedroom, taking in the details. Posters of anime characters and superheroes still cling to the blue-painted walls, a testament to the boy he once was. Shelves crammed with trophies, medals, and action figures line one side of the room, proudly showcasing his accomplishments and hobbies. In the corner by the window sits a desk, cluttered yet organized, as if it had been left untouched since his teenage years. It’s clear Jungkook’s mom hadn’t touched his room all these years, preserving it like a time capsule of his youth.  

"I guess one of us is taking the floor," you remark, breaking the silence as you shut the door behind you.

Your eyes flick to the bed in the center of the room, the blue-and-white striped comforter tucked neatly over the mattress. It's spacious — easily big enough for two.

Jungkook turns toward you, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I'll take the floor," he says, his tone light but certain, as if he's already resigned himself to the discomfort.

Despite all the teasing and playful banter you two always fall into, moments like this remind you of who Jungkook truly is: thoughtful, selfless, and entirely too earnest for his own good.  

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter now, tinged with hesitation.  

He nods firmly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

You return his smile, stepping closer to the bed and carefully placing your purse on the neatly made comforter. Sharing a bed with Jungkook wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world, but it still felt like a line — one you weren’t entirely sure either of you wanted to cross.

The brief tension in the room dissolves as Jungkook clears his throat, shifting the atmosphere back to something more neutral. He moves to unpack his suitcase, crouching to place it on the floor, his hands working through the neatly folded clothes inside. You lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight.  

Grabbing your own suitcase, you busy yourself as well, the sound of zippers and rustling fabric filling the space. The simplicity of it feels grounding, a quiet prelude to the whirlwind you both know is coming.  

The rest of the evening unfolds seamlessly.

After unpacking, you and Jungkook join his parents for dinner, the warm glow of the dining room making everything feel cozy and intimate. The food is delicious — homemade and hearty — and the conversation flows easily. You find yourself genuinely enjoying their company, feeling more at home than you expected.  

After dinner, you help clear the table despite Jungkook’s insistence that you relax, and his mother beams at you in gratitude. By the time you and Jungkook finally head upstairs, your stomach is full, your cheeks are sore from smiling, and a comfortable warmth lingers in your chest.  

While Jungkook was in the bathroom, unwinding for the night, you stood in his bedroom, slipping into something more comfortable for sleep.

Reaching behind your neck, you unclasped the last of your accessories, your fingers brushing over the familiar chain. And that's when you felt it — the delicate metal snapping apart in your hands.

Your breath hitched as you stared down at the broken necklace, your heart sinking. The piece that had been passed down to you, the one that meant so much, now lay in two fragile halves in your palm.

“No!” you exclaim, your voice sharp and panicked.

Jungkook appears in the doorway within seconds, his brows furrowed with concern, his hair falling into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks, scanning the room as if preparing for the worst. 

“Oh, nothing, sorry,” you pout, holding up the broken chain in your hand, the delicate locket dangling from your fingertips. “My necklace just broke.” Your tone is softer now, but the frustration and sadness are evident. 

Jungkook steps closer, his expression softening as his eyes fall on the piece of jewelry. “Let me see,” he says, his voice calm and steady. 

You hand him the chain, its links split cleanly apart, and the locket, small and aged, but clearly well-loved. His fingers brush yours as he takes it, inspecting the damage with a gentle touch. 

“I’ll get you a new one,” he offers without hesitation, his voice firm with intent. 

You shake your head, though you can’t help but smile at his kindness. “Thanks, but it’s okay,” you say, your voice carrying a bittersweet note. “It was my grandma’s. She gave it to me before she passed.”  

His gaze shifts from the broken chain to your face, his expression softening further. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low and apologetic. 

“Don’t be,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s a feeble attempt to deflect, and you know it. So does Jungkook. He’s perceptive like that — always has been. But instead of pressing the matter, he lets it slide, his silence a quiet mercy.

You walk toward your toiletry bag sitting on the dresser, rummaging through it in search of your lotion. Behind you, Jungkook sneakily pockets the broken necklace without a word.

Without hesitation, he heads for the closet, his movements fluid and unhurried as he retrieves a couple of comforters, draping them over his arm.  

He drops the bundle onto the floor beside the bed and crouches down, carefully arranging his makeshift sleeping area. The soft rustle of fabric fills the room as he spreads one comforter out as a base, smoothing over the creases with practiced ease.  

“You really don’t have to do that,” you murmur, your voice gentle as you settle onto the bed, watching him.  

Jungkook glances up at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “It’s fine,” he replies, the simplicity of his words carrying an unspoken certainty.  

You observe him as he finishes setting up, his movements unbothered, almost second nature. When he finally stretches out on the floor, arms folded behind his head, he looks far too relaxed for someone who willingly chose the hardwood over the comfort of the bed.  

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising a brow, your tone laced with amusement.

“As comfortable as the floor can get,” he jokes, running a hand through his hair with an easy grin.  

You shake your head, chuckling softly, but the warmth spreading through your chest lingers — a quiet appreciation for his effort.  

The room settles into a comfortable silence, the muffled hum of the night pressing in through the walls. The faint scent of fresh linens mingles with the soft sweetness of your lotion, wrapping around you like a gentle cocoon. You tug the covers higher, the warmth seeping into your skin as your gaze drifts downward.  

Jungkook lies sprawled out on the makeshift bed, his face partially illuminated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The golden light casts soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, highlighting the quiet ease in his features. There’s something unreadable in his expression, but the calmness about him is infectious, settling over you like a lull.  

“Mom told me she likes you a lot,” he says suddenly, his voice low and steady, breaking the stillness.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “Oh, really?” you ask, aiming for a casual tone, though the slight waver in your voice betrays your curiosity.  

He nods, resting his head on one hand, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice soft yet laced with amusement. "She said I should treat you well… so I don’t lose a good thing."  

His words linger between you, unexpected yet undeniably warm. A surprised smile tugs at your lips as heat creeps up your neck, spreading faster than you’d like. You glance away, attempting to play it cool. "That’s really sweet of her," you say, keeping your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "But how exactly are we going to break it to her that your beautiful, amazing, perfect girlfriend… isn’t actually your girlfriend?"  

Jungkook huffs a small, disbelieving laugh, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We’ll figure that out soon,” he says, voice low and certain. “For now… don’t worry about it.”

You wake up abruptly, blinking against the morning light streaming through the curtains. Your mind feels hazy, and you can’t quite piece together the moments before you fell asleep. Sitting up, you glance toward the floor, only to find Jungkook’s makeshift bed empty and disheveled.

Right on cue, the door creaks open, and in walks Jungkook. Your breath catches in your throat. His hair is damp, droplets clinging to the strands and dripping onto his broad shoulders. A towel hangs precariously low on his hips, barely covering enough. His tattooed arm, ink running from his shoulder down to his fingers, flexes as he pushes the door shut behind him. Your gaze betrays you, trailing down the contours of his chest, his toned abs glistening with water droplets, and further down to the deep V-line teasing just above the towel’s edge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice casual as if he isn’t standing there half-naked and looking like a walking thirst trap.

“You’re naked,” you mock.

He glances down at himself, running a hand lazily down his abs, a motion that only emphasizes his physique. “Nope, I’ve got a towel on.” His lips curl into a smirk as he meets your gaze. “Why? You tryna see more?”

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your face as you yank the blanket over your head, effectively shielding yourself from the sight.

“I’m kidding!” he laughs, his voice rich with amusement, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

After a moment of muffled indignation, you peek out from the safety of your blanket. Jungkook has turned to his dresser, his back muscles shifting and flexing with every movement as he searches for clothes. You hesitate, your gaze lingering longer than it should, admiring the way the morning light outlines the definition of his shoulders and back.  

“Are you done staring, or should I pose for a picture?” he teases without turning around, his voice laced with playful smugness.

You groan, throwing yourself back against the pillows. “Unbelievable.”  

He chuckles again, pulling out a sweater and jeans. “Relax. I’ll get dressed in the bathroom.” He tosses a wink over his shoulder before heading back out, leaving you alone to cool down your burning cheeks and racing heart.  

The room feels quieter once he’s gone, but his presence lingers in the charged air, heavy and undeniable. You throw the blanket off with a sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in your mind. His teasing smirk, the droplets of water trailing down his skin, the way he stood there so casually — it was all too much.  

You stand abruptly, the need to escape the confined space overwhelming. The cool floor beneath your feet grounds you slightly as you make your way to the door. Heading downstairs feels like the only option, the only way to clear your head and put some distance between yourself and the overwhelming presence of Jungkook.  

The staircase creaks softly under your weight as you descend, the faint hum of morning activity filtering up from the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifts through the air, warm and inviting, a contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you.  

The open space of the living room feels like a relief, but the image of him lingers in your mind, unshakable. You take a deep breath, your steps slower now as you reach the kitchen, hoping the steady rhythm of the house will settle the tension knotting in your chest.  

But even as you move through the familiar space, you can’t help the way your thoughts betray you, replaying the moments upstairs. The sight of him, so effortless, so... distracting. You shake your head, trying to push it all away, determined to focus on anything else as the morning unfolds.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of someone moving around greets you. Mrs. Jeon is already up, a warm smile on her face as she spots you. "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I did. Thank you."

Her smile widens, and she hands you a steaming mug of coffee. "Good. Jungkook's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Not yet."

Oh, he definitely already was. But she didn’t need to know that.

She chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you take a sip of the coffee she brewed for you. You savor the drink, the warmth spreading through your chest, and just as you’re about to compliment her coffee making skills, Mrs. Jeon speaks first, her voice breaking the silence.  

"So, I assume you know who's coming over tonight?" she asks. Her gaze meets yours briefly, a knowing look flickering in her eyes.

The question catches you mid-sip, and you lower your mug slowly, nodding in quiet acknowledgment. You haven't fully unpacked the weight of what's to come tonight, but denying it feels pointless now.

Mrs. Jeon's expression softens, the corners of her lips curving into a kind, almost maternal smile. "I'm sorry, honey," she says, her tone gentle but sincere.

“No, there’s no need to apologize,” you reply, doing your best to sound steady, even as a flicker of unease gnaws at the edges of your composure. “It’s… really okay.”  

“Surely it isn’t,” she says softly. “If circumstances were different, I wouldn’t have put you in this situation in a heartbeat.”  

Her words hit you harder than you expect, stirring emotions you weren't prepared to confront. It's like a sudden weight pressing down on your chest, an ache that you can't quite place. You swallow hard, the once comforting warmth of your coffee now tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft and measured. Your gaze falls to your mug, fingers curling tighter around it, as though its warmth might quiet the unease swirling in your chest. After a pause, you add, "I really appreciate it, but as long as Jungkook’s okay, I’ll be okay."

Mrs. Jeon hums, the sound warm and heartfelt, a quiet acknowledgment of your sincerity. “You’re a good one,” she says, breaking the silence. “Jungkook’s been through a lot over the years. Seeing him happy like this... it makes me happy, too. So, thank you — for being there for him.”

The words strike a chord, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of guilt twist in your stomach. You glance up at her, her kind eyes meeting yours, and it takes everything in you to keep your composure. She believes you’re the reason for Jungkook’s happiness, that your relationship with him is real, and the weight of that misunderstanding feels heavier than ever.

“It’s nothing, really,” you say, though your voice wavers ever so slightly. “I care about him a lot and he’s always been there for me, too.”  

She offers a genuine smile, her expression warm and inviting, but before she can say anything more, the soft creak of footsteps descending the stairs catches both your attention. You glance toward the staircase just as Jungkook comes into view, his presence commanding.  

He’s dressed casually yet somehow manages to look effortlessly put together in a beige knitted cardigan layered over a plain white tee, paired with light-washed baggy jeans that hang perfectly on his frame. His hair, still damp from his recent shower, clings to his forehead in soft strands.

The morning light streaming through the windows catches the subtle sheen of water in his hair, making him look... warm, almost domestic in a way that feels oddly intimate. He steps forward, sock-covered feet brushing against the floor, and suddenly, it feels like the air in the room has shifted.

"Speaking of the devil," Mrs. Jeon teases, her playful smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow in your direction.

You let out a soft giggle, as you lift the mug to your lips. The warmth of the coffee spreads through you, rich and comforting, a small distraction from the nervous flutter in your chest. It's delicious, just like everything else she's prepared since you arrived, a subtle testament to her care and hospitality.

"Oh, talking about me already?" Jungkook's voice pulls your attention as he strolls into the kitchen.

"Only the good things," Mrs. Jeon replies warmly, turning to grab a mug from the cabinet. She reaches for the coffee pot and fills the mug, steam curling into the air. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Morning, Ma," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

Then, without warning, Jungkook steps closer, wrapping his arm casually around your shoulders. Before you can react, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, the soft warmth of his lips lingering far longer in your mind than on your skin.

If Mrs. Jeon weren't standing right there, you would've shoved him away playfully. Instead, you do the only thing you can — lean into the moment, letting the weight of his arm anchor you in this charade.

Mrs. Jeon's smile doesn't falter as she watches the two of you, her gaze warm and affectionate. She hands the coffee to Jungkook, who mutters a soft thank you before taking a sip, his arm still comfortably draped around your shoulders.

He’s good at this — too good. The way his smile comes so effortlessly, the way his body instinctively leans into yours as though it’s second nature, makes it almost impossible to remember that this is all just an act, a carefully crafted part of the plan.  

You thought this would be easy. After all, Jungkook had always been just Jungkook to you — a friend, a constant presence, someone familiar and safe. But now, with the memory of his bare torso lingering stubbornly in your mind, your cheeks flush at the worst moments, and your thighs press together involuntarily when the thought sneaks back in.  

Mrs. Jeon moves gracefully around the kitchen, her voice warm and full of life as she talks about plans for the day. You nod and hum in agreement, but your mind is far away. Guilt churns like a storm in your chest, heavy and unrelenting, rising anew every time Mrs. Jeon sends a kind, approving smile your way.  

When she looks at you, it’s with such pride, as though she’s thrilled her son has found someone like you. And for a fleeting second, you almost wish it were true. You wish you could live up to the image of the person she clearly thinks you are. But you’re not. You’re just playing a part in a story she doesn’t know is fake.  

Jungkook’s hand rests casually on the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your shoulder lightly, as if to remind you that he’s there. The touch should be comforting — it is comforting — but it also sets your nerves on fire. The warmth of him, so close, so steady, only makes the tightness in your chest worse.

The room is suffocating despite its cozy charm. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling breakfast mingles in the air, but it’s not enough to drown out the heaviness in your heart. Still, you press forward, past the discomfort and the guilt. If nothing else, you remind yourself, you’re doing this for him.

What was once a quiet, serene home now buzzes with warmth, laughter, and conversation. The lively energy catches you off guard, and before you can fully take it in, a high-pitched voice squeals through the air.

"Kookie!"

Your attention snaps to the source just as Jungkook's face lights up, his entire demeanor shifting into something softer, more playful.

"Jihyun!" he calls back, crouching slightly and stretching his arms wide open in anticipation.

A little girl, no older than four, comes bounding into view. She's dressed in an adorable red blouse and a denim skirt, her two space buns bouncing as she sprints toward him. Without hesitation, she flings herself into his waiting arms, colliding with him in a way that makes him stumble back a step with a playful groan.

He lifts her effortlessly, holding her securely against him as she giggles wildly. "I missed you so much," he murmurs into her shoulder, his voice tender and full of adoration.

"Me too!" she replies, her small arms wrapping tightly around his neck. The pure joy in her voice makes your chest ache in the sweetest way.

You can't help but smile as you watch the interaction, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of Jungkook so effortlessly in his element. The way he holds her, talks to her, and grins from ear to ear — it's a side of him you don't get to see often, and it's undeniably endearing.

She pulls back slightly, her tiny hands still gripping Jungkook's shoulders as she admires his face with a bright smile. You can't help but admire her in return — her big, glossy boba eyes are so reminiscent of Jungkook's that it makes your heart squeeze. She's adorable, with a lively sparkle in her gaze and a face that's impossible not to love.

Jungkook glances at you, catching your gaze as he tilts his head slightly, silently beckoning you closer. You step forward, your hand naturally resting on his bicep as you meet his gentle smile.

"Nini, say hi," Jungkook coaxes softly, bouncing her in his arms just enough to make her giggle.

The little girl turns her attention to you, her eyes wide and curious as they meet yours. For a moment, you're captivated by the way they seem to shine, full of wonder and mischief.

You give her a warm smile and a small wave. “Hi," you say softly, your tone as gentle as the moment feels.

Her lips curl into a shy grin, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she mimics your wave and chirps, "Hi." Her voice is small and sweet, and you feel your heart melt instantly.

"This is my Nini," Jungkook says, his tone affectionate as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. He then introduces you by name, emphasizing it just enough for her to catch on.

She tilts her head slightly, testing the sound of your name on her lips. Her tiny voice repeats it, and the way she says it with a soft lilt makes you smile even wider.

"Good job," you say gently, your voice full of encouragement. "You said it perfectly."

She beams at the praise, her little giggle filling the space as she snuggles into Jungkook's chest. He scrunches his nose, fingers lightly tickling her sides, drawing more laughter from her tiny frame. The sight is endearing — so much so that it disarms you completely. This isn't the Jungkook you're used to seeing. It's a domestic, almost paternal side of him that pulls at something deep within you, leaving your thoughts to wander places they shouldn't.

You know better, but your mind betrays you. There's something about the way he holds her so effortlessly, the way his smile reaches his eyes, that stirs a warmth low in your tummy. Whatever the reason, the thought of Jungkook as a father, with kids of his own — and worse, the intrusive idea of them being your kids — leaves your face getting all hot.

Still, the thought lingers in the back of your mind, unwanted and insistent. You try to focus on anything else — the hum of conversation in the other room, the clinking of plates — but all you can see is the way Jungkook glances down at her, his love for her so visible it practically glows.

"What's up, bro!" a man exclaims, striding up to Jungkook with an easy grin, pulling him into a tight hug. Jihyun squeals, sandwiched between the two of them.

"Hey," Jungkook greets, patting the man's back with a grin of his own.  

The man’s focus shifts to you, his demeanor softening into something more formal but equally welcoming. His eyes light up with a polite curiosity, and he steps forward, extending a hand. "Hi, I’m Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother."  

You take his hand, matching his smile with one of your own as you introduce yourself. His handshake is firm yet warm, the kind that immediately puts you at ease. There’s a quiet confidence in his manner, one that seems to run in the family.  

“It’s really nice to meet you,” he says, his smile lingering as if he’s sizing you up in the most good-natured way possible.  

“Likewise,” you reply, your voice steady, though there’s a faint flutter of nerves in your chest — meeting Jungkook’s family feels like crossing an invisible threshold.  

Jihyun squirms free from Jungkook's arms, her little body wriggling with determination until she finally escapes his grasp. The moment her feet hit the floor, she reaches for you, her tiny fingers slipping into yours. She tugs at your hand — gently at first, then more insistently — as if she has something very important to show you in the living room.

"Thief!" Jungkook calls after her, feigning offense.

Jihyun only giggles, her mischievous little laugh filling the room like music. She glances back at him with a playful grin before tightening her grip on you and pulling you forward, eager and excited.

She leads you to a cozy spot on the carpet where a toy tea set is laid out, its bright colors inviting. She sits, pointing to the space across from her. As you settle down, your gaze flickers to the woman seated near you. She cradles a baby in her arms, her beauty striking but softened by the warm smile she sends your way.  

“Would you like some tea?” Jihyun asks, her voice carrying the kind of serious charm only a child could muster. She holds up the tiny porcelain teapot with both hands, her expression adorably earnest.  

You play along, grabbing the delicate toy teacup and its matching saucer, holding them forward. “Why yes, I would love some,” you reply, your tone as playful as hers.  

Jihyun’s giggle is pure delight as she mimics pouring tea, her little hands moving with exaggerated precision. You both lift your cups and take pretend sips, the air between you filled with laughter and the sweetness of a make-believe moment.  

The woman beside you watches the scene unfold with a soft chuckle, her baby gurgling quietly in her arms, adding its own tiny contribution to the cheerful atmosphere.

“You’re really great with kids,” she says, her tone sincere and appreciative.  

You glance over, returning her smile with one of your own. “Thank you. I’ve had my fair share of babysitting over the years.” Your gaze flicks to Jihyun, who’s now meticulously arranging plastic pastries on the carpet. “She’s absolutely adorable.”  

“She is,” the woman agrees, a soft laugh escaping her. “Though she can definitely be a handful when she wants to be. But she gets away with it because she’s cute.”  

You chuckle at her playful tone, shifting your gaze to the little one nestled in her arms. “And what about this one?” you ask, nodding toward the baby.  

“Much calmer,” she replies, glancing down at the tiny bundle in her arms with obvious affection. “At least for now. Ask me again when he starts walking — then I might have a different answer.”  

You chuckle, the warmth of the moment settling around you like a cozy blanket. Your gaze drifts to Jihyun, who carefully lifts her teacup to her teddy bear's snout, her tiny hands steady with concentration. The sight tugs at your heart, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"I'm Yeona, Junghyun's wife," the woman says warmly, her smile reaching her eyes as she shifts the baby slightly in her arms.

You return her smile, introducing yourself as Jungkook's girlfriend. The words feel foreign on your tongue, but not entirely unnatural.

"I've known Jungkook since he was a teenager, and I haven't seen him with someone in a long time. I know you're probably tired of hearing this by now, but we're genuinely so happy to have you here."

You tilt your head slightly, a soft warmth spreading through your chest at her sincerity. "Thank you, I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine.

The baby in her arms suddenly coos, little arms flailing as his tiny face scrunches up with curiosity. Yeona glances down at him and then back at you. "Do you wanna hold him?"

You blink in surprise. "If it's alright?"

"Of course!" she says, carefully moving to hand him over.

You extend your arms, palms open, as she passes the baby to you. His tiny weight settles against you, warm and soft. He doesn't cry or fuss, his wide, innocent eyes locking onto yours. Instead, he lets out another coo, his small hands curling in the air as if reaching for something unseen.

“Do you want kids?” Yeona asks, her tone casual but curious.  

The question catches you off guard with its directness, especially since you’ve only just met her. Yet, there’s no malice or prying in her voice — just genuine curiosity. It’s a question you realize no one has ever bothered to ask you before. Oddly enough, you appreciate her candor.  

“I do,” you admit, your voice soft but certain.  

“Good,” she replies with a knowing smile. “Because I know he does too.”  

Before you can form a response — before you can explain that you and Jungkook aren’t quite what she thinks you are — Yeona rises gracefully from her spot on the carpet, heading toward the kitchen.  

You exhale, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. That’s when you feel it: a familiar warmth pressing against your back, a weight that immediately grounds you. A chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and a hand — adorned with tattoos you’d recognize anywhere — reaches forward to gently touch the baby’s nose.  

Just then, the baby in your arms fusses, his tiny hands swatting at Jungkook’s fingers as if to protest the playful intrusion. Jungkook chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. You glance back at him, a playful glare in your eyes.  

“Stop it,” you whisper with mock sternness, shifting the baby slightly to soothe him. But Jungkook only grins, clearly enjoying the little moment.  

The thought of leaving this — leaving them — in a few months presses heavy on your chest. This family dynamic, this love and connection, feels so genuine. And yet, deep down, you know your place here isn’t meant to last.

But the warmth of Jungkook’s presence, the ease of the laughter surrounding you, makes it harder to remember that this is all an act. A role you’re playing, despite how genuine it feels. Despite how often they tell you how happy they are to have you here.

The sun goes down, and the Christmas lights strung all around the house cast a soft, warm glow that dances across the walls. Their gentle twinkle feels almost magical, a comforting contrast to the slight edge of tension creeping into the evening. The dinner hour is drawing near, and with it, Misa’s arrival looms closer.  

But despite the weight of anticipation in the air, Jungkook feels a surprising calmness wash over him — much calmer than he had been just days before. Maybe it’s his niece laughing her lungs away, a sweet distraction that tugs his focus away from the knot of worry in his chest. Or maybe it’s watching you, seamlessly blending into his family like you’ve belonged here all along. The sight of you laughing with his sister-in-law in the kitchen stirs something in him he hasn’t felt in a while — something warm, soft, and a little dizzying.  

His gaze follows you as you make your way toward him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. You settle onto the couch next to him, your closeness becomes all too apparent. Your knees are bent, legs resting lightly on his thigh. His arm stretches out along the back of the couch, hovering just behind your shoulders.  

The space between you is minimal — comfortable in a way that feels almost... intimate. It’s the kind of closeness that real couples share, a moment so effortlessly tender it catches him off guard.  

But he isn’t uncomfortable. Far from it. There’s a quiet ease in how natural this feels, and for a moment, he lets himself savor it. This — whatever this is — doesn’t feel like an act at all.

“Warming up quickly, aren’t you?” Jungkook teases, his big, round eyes glinting with amusement, the soft glow of the lights catching on his lip piercings.  

“Well, I’m considered family here, so I kind of have to,” you joke, giggling softly at the way his eyes widen in mock surprise. “No, but seriously,” you continue, your voice lighter now, “everyone is very nice and welcoming.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it here,” he says, his tone softer, sincerity threading through the words.  

“Me too,” you reply with a gentle smile, a warmth blooming in your chest that you try not to overthink.

Your gaze drops to Jihyun, who is engrossed in her dolls on the living room floor. Toys are scattered all around her, but she's focused on the one in her hand, turning it this way and that. You can't help but smile softly, your attention anchored to her every movement.

Jungkook doesn't look away. His eyes remain on you, not the child or the cluttered mess around her, but you. He watches the way your expression softens, the way a small, unspoken tenderness lights up your features as you watch Jihyun.

And for him, that's all there is. The conversations buzzing faintly in the kitchen, the faint tick of the clock on the wall, even the weight of the evening ahead — it all fades away.

But then your focus shifted. Your gaze lifted from Jihyun to the new arrivals at the door, and instinctively, his followed.  

And there she was.  

Misa.  

Her hair is different now. Gone is the bold cherry red that once defined her vibrant, carefree spirit, the color she wore like a crown in high school. Instead, her hair is sleek and black, the deep shade a striking contrast to the one he remembered so well. It gives her an air of elegance, of maturity, but there’s still something undeniably familiar about her — the subtle tilt of her head, the curve of her lips when she smiles.

She looks older, more refined, yet still unmistakably herself, as if time had simply smoothed out the edges of the girl he once knew so intimately. It’s like flipping through the pages of an old, beloved book, only to find that some of the words have changed. There’s nostalgia, yes, but also an overwhelming sense of uncertainty that settles in his chest, heavy and persistent.

That smile. The same one he loved for years. Those eyes, the ones that once held his world in their gaze. Her politeness, her grace — they’re all still there, but it’s as though everything else is different now. The way she moves, the way she carries herself. It’s familiar, yes, but also strangely foreign, like he’s looking at someone he used to know but hasn’t seen in far too long.

It confuses him. He should be excited. But he’s not. Because this isn’t the Misa he remembers. This is someone else entirely — someone he doesn’t know how to reach.

When she approaches, he stands from the couch, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. You take it, the gesture both reassuring and strange, and stand beside him as she makes her way toward them.

"Hi," she says, her voice soft, but with that unmistakable warmth he’s always known.

It’s a simple greeting, but it hits him like a wave. For a moment, he freezes. The words don’t come as easily as they once did. She’s standing there in front of him, and yet, it feels as if there’s an entire ocean between them.

"Hi," he responds, his voice a little breathless, as if his mind has been running a marathon trying to find the right words to say.

“It’s been a while,” she says, her smile warm, genuine.

He chuckles awkwardly, the sound forced but heartfelt. "It has. How’ve you been?"

“I’m doing good,” she replies, nodding slightly, her expression soft but sincere. There's a certain calmness about her now, an ease that shows in her eyes, and it hits him all at once — she’s doing well. Without him. Without ever needing him. "And you?"

He nods, but the smile doesn’t come. It’s a stiff, practiced motion, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Me too."

Her smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something in her gaze, something he can’t quite place. It’s fleeting, gone before he can analyze it. Her attention shifts to you then, and for the briefest of moments, he’s left to stand there, caught between the past and the present, unsure of which direction to take.

"Hi, I’m Misa," she says, her tone warmer now as she extends a hand towards you.

You take her hand with your free one, your smile genuine but soft, offering your name as you introduce yourself. Misa’s grip is firm but warm, and she smiles, the edges of her eyes crinkling in a way that reminds you of someone who’s seen the world and learned how to navigate it with grace.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she says sincerely, her voice calm but warm, like a gentle breeze that carries a subtle weight.

“You too,” you smile, matching her warmth.

You take a moment to observe Misa as she stands before you, and it’s hard not to admit she’s undeniably beautiful. The way her features seem to fall into place so effortlessly, how her smile is radiant but reserved, just enough to pull you in without revealing everything. It’s easy to see why Jungkook was so captivated by her in the past.

Now, seeing her in person, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. The woman behind the stories, behind the name that always seemed to linger in his conversations, now standing right in front of you.

It’s almost surreal, meeting her. There’s a strange satisfaction in finally putting a face to the name that you’ve heard so much about. The realization settles over you like a quiet understanding. She’s beautiful, yes, but there’s something else too — a softness, a strength, an elegance that feels like it has been built over years of lived experience.

“Well, I won’t keep you two,” she says with a smile, her voice warm but carrying a certain finality. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you and Jungkook reply in unison, the words almost automatic, yet carrying their own weight as she turns to greet the others. Her presence lingers in the air, the faint scent of her perfume still hanging in the space where she stood.

Jungkook’s eyes follow Misa as she greets the others with that same effortless charm. But it’s different now. The girl he once knew, the one who filled his thoughts with reckless dreams and laughter, isn’t here anymore. The girl in front of him is someone else — someone more polished, more refined, and maybe a little bit distant. 

He feels it, that ache in his chest, a tug of something he can’t quite name. It’s like he’s mourning the loss of someone, of a version of Misa that only existed in the past. The way she used to laugh, how she would look at him with eyes full of mischief and warmth. That’s the girl he remembers, the one he never thought he’d lose touch with.

But now, the girl who used to be his best friend, the one he could confide in, is standing just a few feet away from him, and he doesn’t know her anymore. Not really. The way she’s carrying herself, the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes when she looks at him — he’s lost that closeness, that ease they once shared. It’s like she's become a stranger wrapped in familiarity.

And it hurts more than he thought it would. He feels it deep in his bones, this shift, this subtle but undeniable change. He thought he was ready for this moment, ready to see her again. But nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching someone you once knew inside and out transform into someone unrecognizable.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightens involuntarily, his eyes following Misa as she moves through the room, laughing with the others, her attention elsewhere. His chest feels tight, and the weight of the years spent apart suddenly hits him like a wave. He’s standing here, surrounded by people, but it’s like he’s alone in his own thoughts, trapped in the past he can’t quite shake off.

“You okay?” he hears your voice, soft and gentle. You’re looking at him with concern, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only thing grounding him in the present.

He swallows, trying to push the tightness in his chest away, but it lingers. “Yeah, just…” He trails off, not sure how to explain it. How do you tell someone that seeing her again feels like losing her all over again? That the version of Misa he’s been holding onto for all these years is gone, and he doesn’t know how to navigate the space between them anymore?

“Just feels… different,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying the words out loud will make them too real. And maybe they already are.

The house grows livelier, the comforting scent of homemade food filling every corner.

Mrs. Jeon and Misa’s mom work side by side in the kitchen, their movements fluid and practiced. They bustle around, chopping, stirring, and laughing at the small jokes they share, not letting anyone near their territory. You, eager to lend a hand, tried multiple times to help, but Mrs. Jeon shooed you away with a gentle but firm hand, her eyes twinkling as she insisted you relax and enjoy yourself. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook, his brother, and their father are deep in conversation. Their voices rise and fall in a rhythm that feels so familiar, punctuated by bursts of laughter that echo through the house. Their father’s laughter is loud and boisterous, full of life, as he catches up with his grown sons — talking about everything from their childhood to what they’d been up to since the last time they’d all been together. It’s a rare moment, one that makes the room feel warm and full of love.

You, in contrast, are seated on the floor, a small toy in one hand as you help Jihyun build an impressive block tower. The little one giggles each time you manage to stack another piece, her tiny hands eager to mimic your movements.

Yeona and Misa sit across the room, talking softly between themselves, their conversation a quiet hum against the liveliness of the house. It’s clear they’re speaking about things you don’t fully understand — topics that feel far more mature than anything you’d normally discuss.

They carry themselves with a kind of quiet confidence, a level of poise you’ve always associated with people who’ve been through more than their fair share of life’s ups and downs. There’s a grace to how they both interact, almost as if they’ve mastered this whole adult thing without breaking a sweat.

You can’t help but feel a little out of place. There’s a maturity about them that you can’t quite match, one that makes you feel like you’re not quite there yet — like you’re still fumbling through things they’ve long since figured out. Their conversation, so natural and poised, makes you wonder how much you have yet to experience, how much you still have to learn before you can carry yourself with the same ease.

It’s not that you think they’re better, but there’s something undeniably different about how they present themselves. You wonder if you’ll ever feel as sure of yourself, as poised as they seem to be, or if you’re just going to keep stumbling along, trying to keep up.

"Auntie," Jihyun calls out, her small voice cutting through the noise in the room. You snap your head around, eyes wide, trying to process what you just heard. Did she really just call you that? The word lingers in the air like it doesn’t belong to you, like it's some unfamiliar title you’re not quite sure you deserve.

You stare at her for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Her innocent gaze is fixed on you, her small hand outstretched in an inviting gesture, as though it’s perfectly natural for her to call you that. She tilts her head slightly, her brown eyes full of trust, as she says it again, "Come with me."

A flicker of surprise crosses your face, but there's a warmth growing in your chest that you can’t ignore. Jihyun’s eager smile tugs at your heartstrings, the innocent way she looks at you, as if you’re exactly who she wanted.

You blink a few times, shaking off the surprise, and let a soft smile slip onto your lips. “Did you just call me Auntie?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She nods enthusiastically, oblivious to the impact of the word, her small face lighting up with joy. “Yes! Come with me, Auntie.”

For a moment, you just stand there, processing her innocent certainty. It’s unexpected, yet there’s something so pure about it. You can’t help but feel a twinge of warmth spreading through you, a connection forming in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Maybe it’s the way she looks at you, or how she’s trusting you in this simple, childlike way.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. You glance around the room, half-expecting someone to laugh or correct her, but when nothing comes, you realize that, for Jihyun, this just makes sense. 

With a fond smile, you step forward, your heart lighter. “Okay,” you say, taking her small hand in yours, letting her lead you to whatever adventure she has planned.

Her tiny hands wrap around a few of your fingers, tugging you along with her insistent little grip. You let her lead, smiling softly at her enthusiasm as she weaves through the crowd in the living room and drags you toward the kitchen. When you reach the archway that frames the transition between the two spaces, she halts abruptly, turning to you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Stay here," she commands with all the authority a child her size can muster before darting off again.

Confused but amused, you lean against the archway, watching her scurry away. Moments later, she reappears, this time with Jungkook. He's laughing softly, his brow furrowed as he follows her like he doesn't have a choice.

"Nini, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice tinged with playful exasperation.

She doesn't answer, not until she's positioned him squarely in front of you. Then, she takes a step back, clapping her little hands together as though presenting her masterpiece.

"Mistletoe!" she exclaims triumphantly, pointing above you.

Your jaw drops, eyes immediately darting upward. Sure enough, hanging from the archway is a small sprig of mistletoe, placed there at some point in the evening's festivities.

Jungkook chuckles, his laughter low and rumbling. "You sneaky little-" He reaches out to grab her, but she squeals and darts away, her giggles echoing through the house. She runs straight to her grandfather, climbing onto his lap.

Jungkook's dad grins, his hand resting protectively on her head as she peeks out. "It's tradition, guys," he says with a laugh, his tone light and teasing.

"Come on, this isn't appropriate," Jungkook protests, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are slightly pink, though he keeps his composure.

"Since when were you so shy?" Junghyun teases, his tone light and playful as he watches the scene unfold. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly amused by his daughter's antics and Jungkook's uncharacteristic hesitation.

"Hyung," Jungkook mutters, his jaw tightening as he throws his brother a sharp look. But it only fuels Junghyun's grin.

"She's just trying to spread some Christmas spirit," Junghyun continues, feigning innocence but failing to hide his amusement.

Jungkook is respecting your boundary, you know he is. He remembers what you said — no kissing.

But standing here, with his eyes flickering to yours, the laughter of his family around you, and the weight of his presence so close, the rule you set suddenly feels... unnecessary.

Your gaze drops to his lips, just for a second, and you realize the thought doesn't terrify you like it did before. Kissing him wouldn't be bad. In fact, it feels like the only thing that would make sense in this moment.

Jungkook clears his throat, his voice quieter when he speaks. "We don't have to-"

But before he can finish, you take a step closer, your arms instinctively finding their way around his neck. His words falter, replaced by a breath caught in his throat, as your lips press softly against his.

The living room erupts instantly — dramatic whoops and cheers filling the air. Jihyun squeals in delight, clapping her hands as if she's just orchestrated the most important moment of the year. Her giggles echo above the noise, the proud little culprit reveling in her success.

Jungkook freezes for the briefest of moments, his body tensing under your touch, as if unsure whether to let himself lean into this. But then, slowly, he softens, melting into the kiss. His lips are soft, warmer than you expected, and there's a gentle hesitance in the way he responds — like he's carefully toeing the line, wary of your boundaries but still allowing himself to savor the moment.

The world seems to narrow to just the two of you, the noise of the room fading into a distant hum. His hand slides to your waist, a light but steady anchor, as if he's holding himself back just a little.

You're the first to pull away, a sudden awareness creeping in as the cheers and playful jeers of the room remind you just how many people witnessed that moment. A kiss like that, even if innocent enough, feels a little too bold in front of his entire family. No one really wants to see their son or brother making out with their significant other.

Jungkook looks at you, his lips pink and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed with heat, and his dark eyes still locked on you like you'd just turned his entire world upside down. The intensity of his gaze sends a wave of warmth through you, but you brush it off with a soft laugh, breaking the tension as you glance toward Jihyun.

"You're a little drama starter, aren't you?" you tease, scrunching your nose playfully at her.

Jihyun, as proud of herself as ever, lets out a delighted squeal and climbs off her grandfather's lap, running away from you before you can reach her. You laugh, chasing after her for a moment, her giggles filling the room as she darts behind her dad for safety.

Jungkook stays where he is, still rooted in place, dazed and a little shell-shocked. He watches as you effortlessly transition from teasing his niece to chatting easily with his family, your warmth radiating in a way that fills the room. You blend in so naturally, as though you've been a part of his world forever.

And that's when it hits him — how easily you've warmed up to everyone, how seamlessly you've become a part of his family's dynamic. He can't help the soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you, his heart full but uneasy, knowing moments like these are only temporary.

Then his eyes flicker to the reason why you're here. Misa sits quietly on the couch, her posture relaxed as she watches the scene unfold with a faint smile on her lips. Her gaze follows you as you playfully chase after Jihyun, your laughter filling the room. The sight of you, so at ease, so vibrant, draws everyone's attention — even hers.

For a moment, Jungkook feels a twinge of something familiar, something that once drove him to the edges of heartbreak. Seeing Misa here, so poised and serene, was supposed to reignite the ache, the longing for what he once had.

But it doesn’t. And he’s beginning to realize why.

The rest of the night flowed smoothly, a seamless blend of good food, warm laughter, and light-hearted conversations that filled the Jeon household.

Dinner was amazing, every dish perfectly cooked thanks to Mrs. Jeon and Misa’s mom. You sat next to Jungkook at the table, his arm brushing against yours occasionally, a quiet reassurance of his presence. Jihyun had insisted on sitting on your other side, her boundless energy keeping you entertained throughout the meal as she chattered away about everything and nothing.  

But like all good things, the evening eventually wound down. Plates were cleared, leftovers were packed, and the gentle hum of conversation turned into goodbyes. Tomorrow, you and Jungkook would be leaving, heading back to your lives where the pretense of being a couple wouldn’t follow.  

You crouched down to hug Jihyun for as long as you could, her small arms clutching you tightly. The thought of this being the only family event you’d attend, knowing you wouldn’t see her anymore, stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated. She burrowed into your embrace, her sleepy form warm and soft against you.  

Her dad gently took her from your arms, whispering for her to give you one last goodbye. Jihyun’s tiny voice murmured a goodbye before she rested her head on her father’s shoulder, her eyes already fluttering shut.  

You watched as their car pulled out of the driveway, the taillights fading into the darkness. A frown crept onto your face as a quiet sigh escaped your lips. Jungkook’s hand moved to your back, his touch steady and comforting, rubbing slow circles to ease the weight of your thoughts.  

A familiar voice broke the moment. “It was nice meeting you again, truly,” Misa said, stepping closer.  

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “You too.”  

Her gaze shifted to Jungkook, a subtle hesitation flickering in her expression before she spoke. “Can I talk to you for a second?”  

Jungkook’s eyes immediately darted to you, as if seeking your approval or reassurance.  

“Take him,” you said lightly, flashing a small smile in Misa’s direction before meeting his gaze. “I’ll be upstairs.”  

As you disappeared into the house, the door clicked shut behind you, leaving Jungkook and Misa alone on the porch.  

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Jungkook shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his breath clouding in the chilly night air. Across from him, Misa crossed her arms, pulling her coat tighter around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.  

“I knew this would be awkward, but I feel like… I owe you a conversation. After everything,” Misa starts, her voice tentative, as if she’s unsure whether she’s even allowed to say this.

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh, his breath fogging in the cold air. “You didn’t think to do this… oh, I don’t know – nine years ago?”  

His tone is laced with sarcasm, but the hurt cuts through it unmistakably. Misa flinches at his words, and for a fleeting moment, guilt flashes across her face, making her look smaller than she usually does.  

“I loved you, Jungkook…” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we were so young. It was bound to happen.”  

“No, it wouldn’t have!” Jungkook snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “If you really loved me, you would’ve made it work!”  

Misa’s eyes glisten under the porch light, and her voice trembles as she responds, “You think I wanted to leave you? I couldn’t stop crying for years, Jungkook! But I was seventeen, and I was terrified! Walking away was the best thing for both of us!”  

“It destroyed me, Misa!” he fires back, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “You didn’t do what was best for us. You were just selfish.”  

“Selfish?” she retorts, her voice rising as she takes a step closer. “Jungkook… we were kids! We lived miles apart. How would that have worked? You think it was easy for me to make that choice? It wasn’t ideal for me either, but it was what would’ve made the most sense.”  

Jungkook shakes his head, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. He lowers his gaze to his shoes, his voice softening into a near whisper. “We could’ve made it work…”  

“I’m sorry,” Misa says, her tone laden with sincerity. “I really am.”  

For a moment, silence falls between them, the kind that feels both heavy and oddly freeing. Jungkook finally lifts his eyes to meet hers, searching her face for something he isn’t sure he’ll find.  

“Are you happy?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.  

Misa's lips curve into a small smile, one tinged with both pride and nostalgia. "I am. I recently finished my last year of med school," she says, her voice soft but steady. "It was... tough, but I did it." She pauses, as if letting herself truly feel the weight of her accomplishment before adding, "And... I'm engaged now, so yeah, I am really happy."

Jungkook smiles — a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes, yet beneath it lingers something else, something quieter. A twinge of jealousy, not because he believes it should have been him, but because she has moved on while he remains tethered to the past. But despite it all, he is truly happy for her.

"That's amazing," he says, his voice genuine, though slightly hushed. "I'm... I'm proud of you."

“Thank you,” she says, her tone soft. “How about you?”  

His mind races through everything he’s endured since Misa left — the heartbreak, the years of questioning, and now, the realization that he’s no longer the person who once pined for her. “I don’t know…” he finally mutters, his voice distant.  

Misa tilts her head slightly, studying him. “Is she not making you happy?” she asks softly, referring to you.  

There’s no point in lying anymore.

His response is immediate, but it comes with a shake of his head. “We aren’t together.”  

Misa’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. “Really?” She crosses her arms, the disbelief clear in her voice. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

Jungkook exhales sharply, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. "I brought her here because I knew you would be here."

The weight of his confession lingers in the cold night air, his words a reluctant admission of vulnerability. Misa tilts her head slightly, her expression softening as the meaning behind his actions clicks into place.

"Well," she says, pulling her hand from her coat pocket with a subtle flourish, revealing the diamond ring on her finger, "I hate to break it to you, but it didn't work."

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at himself, at the situation, at how ridiculous it all feels now. Misa laughs with him, the tension breaking like the first crack of sunlight after a long storm.  

“She did warn me. I guess I should’ve known better,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  

“Yeah, probably,” she teases lightly, her smile softening as she looks at him. “But hey… at least you tried.”  

Jungkook nods slowly, his gaze lingering on the door as a faint smile graces his lips. “Yeah… being with her didn’t seem all that bad, though,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Misa.  

Misa smiles knowingly, crossing her arms as she tilts her head. “Go for it,” she says softly. “You deserve happiness too, Jungkook.”  

He lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I just… I don’t want to ruin things between us. What if it’s too much, too fast? What if it’s not what she wants?”  

Misa raises an eyebrow, her tone light but firm. “Well, if rejection is what you’re scared of, I’ll tell you right now — that kiss was anything but friendly.”  

Jungkook chuckles nervously, his cheeks warming as he shakes his head. “You think so?”  

“I know so,” she replies confidently, her smile turning teasing. “Trust me, Jungkook. If you’re even half as obvious with her as you were with me, she knows. And honestly? She probably feels the same.”  

Her words hang in the air, filling him with equal parts hope and doubt. Jungkook glances at her, taking in the sincerity in her expression. For a moment, neither of them says anything, the quiet sounds of the night settling around them. Then, Misa steps forward and wraps her arms around him.  

He returns the embrace, his hands resting lightly on her back. “Thanks, Misa,” he says, his voice muffled against her shoulder.  

She pulls back just enough to look at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t need my thanks,” she replies softly, her tone carrying the warmth of an old friend. Then, with a playful smirk, she adds, “Just don’t mess it up.”  

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’ll try not to.”  

And then, with one last glance at him, Misa steps away. The sound of her heels clicking against the pavement echoes softly in the quiet night as she climbs into her car. The engine hums to life, and within moments, she's driving off into the darkness, her taillights disappearing down the street.

Jungkook exhales, watching as his breath dissipates into the cold night air. The weight he had carried for so long — the lingering feelings of the past, the questions left unanswered — fades, piece by piece. Misa's departure isn't a loss; it's a quiet closing of a door that had been left ajar for far too long.  

He turns back toward the house, the warm glow from the windows beckoning him inside. Jungkook steps through the door, closing it behind him, ready to run toward whatever comes next.

You were upstairs, unwinding from the day. Just as you were about to head to the shower, Jungkook makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

"How was it?" you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, your gaze flicking toward him as he closes the door behind him.

"Good," he says simply, but his tone is distant, as though his mind is somewhere else.

Your brows knit together. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer immediately, his jaw working as if he's chewing over his next words. Finally, he speaks, but it's not what you expected. "Why did you do it?"

You blink, confused. "Do what?"

"Kiss me," he says, his voice steady.

You chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Everyone was watching us, Kook. And Misa. It would've been obvious if we didn't kiss."

He shakes his head, taking a step closer. "You didn't do it because of Misa, did you?" he says, his tone firm.

You tilt your head, looking up at him, and a small smile curves on your lips. It's playful, teasing, and it's enough to make his heart stutter. That smile tells him everything he needs to know, but still, you say it anyway. "It was just a kiss."

He narrows his eyes slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You said no kissing," he reminds you, leaning in just enough to make the air between you crackle with tension.

"Well, I changed my mind," you reply, your voice light, though there's a hint of something more in it.

"Because?" he presses, tilting his head slightly, his smirk widening as he waits for your answer.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Because it was easier than explaining why we weren't kissing under the mistletoe."

"Hmm," he hums, unconvinced, taking a step closer. He's so close now that you have to tilt your head further to meet his gaze. "That's the story you're going with?"

"That's the truth," you say, holding his gaze, though your lips betray you with a small, mischievous smile.

His tongue runs across his bottom lip as he chuckles softly. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"I've nothing to lie about," you say, your voice steady, though the spark in your eyes betrays your composure.

"Yeah?" he asks, his tone low, challenging, as he steps even closer.

You nod, humming softly, your confidence unwavering.

And then, without warning, he crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is sudden, stealing the breath right out of your lungs, catching you completely off guard. His hand rests behind your neck, pulling you into him.

For a moment, you freeze, your mind racing to process what just happened, but then instinct takes over. Your hands find his chest, gripping his shirt to steady yourself as you melt into the kiss. His lips are warm, insistent but not rough, like he's been waiting for this moment and isn't about to let it slip away.

When he finally pulls back, he's slightly breathless, his dark eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging at the corners of his swollen lips. "There's no mistletoe. What's your excuse this time, huh?"

You narrow your eyes at him, your breath uneven as you glare at his teasing grin. "Just shut the fuck up already," you snap, grabbing his face with both hands and crashing your lips onto his again.

He barely has time to react, but when he does, his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer. He smiles into the kiss, that cocky, boyish grin you've come to know so well. It only spurs you on, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepens, all the tension, teasing, and unspoken words melting away into something neither of you could deny anymore.

"God, you're bossy," he mumbles, his tone playful but laced with something much deeper.

"And you talk too much," you retort, your voice muffled as you kiss him again, determined to shut him up properly this time.

“Do I?” he asks, his voice a low, husky almost-moan against your lips.  

You hum in response, your breath hitching as his fingers trace a featherlight path down your spine. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, searching, teasing.  

“Yeah?” he asks again, tilting his head, that signature smirk tugging at his lips — the kind that tells you he’s up to no good.  

“Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, the impatience laced in your voice only making his smirk widen.  

His fingers move to the buckle of your belt, unlooping the strap with agonizing slowness, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of your stomach as he works the metal free. The sound of it sliding through the loops is deliberate, a slow tease, a promise.  

“I should really stop talking then, shouldn’t I?” he murmurs, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your parted lips.  

“Yeah, you should,” you say with a knowing smile, rolling your hips forward slightly, urging him on.  

His fingers move with purpose now, popping open the button of your jeans before dragging the zipper down. His hands, warm and firm, press against your hips as he kneels slightly, hooking his fingers into the waistband and peeling the denim down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in your underwear, the cool air against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. 

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you effortlessly to the edge of the bed. A soft giggle escapes you, a playful attempt at resistance as you nudge him with your foot, but he catches your ankle with ease. His thumb traces over your skin, a slow, deliberate motion before he dips his head, pressing a featherlight kiss to your ankle.  

The warmth of his lips trails up your calf, each kiss slower than the last. His hands glide along your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs as he moves higher, his breath hot against your skin. A shiver runs through you, anticipation building with every unhurried touch.  

Pausing at the inside of your thigh, he lets his lips linger, the heat of his breath sending a ripple of want through your body. His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down inch by inch, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The room feels smaller, the space between you charged, heavy with something unspoken but undeniably felt.  

He takes his time, savoring every inch of exposed skin, as if committing the moment to memory. Your body hums under his touch, muscles tensing in expectation. His hands, his lips — every movement feels intentional, like he’s unraveling you piece by piece, without a single word spoken between you.

He leans back in, his lips grazing your skin as he presses another lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath ghosting over you and making your muscles tense in anticipation. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his mouth finally descends, lips parting to taste you without hesitation. 

The first brush of his lips against your clit is teasing, and when he seals them around the sensitive bundle of nerves, the contrast of heat and the chill of his lip piercings sends a sharp jolt through you. A strangled gasp escapes, your back arching instinctively as pleasure pulses through you.

Your fingers weave into his hair, brushing the strands back to get a better view of him. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, like a man savoring his favorite meal, every movement of his tongue precise, every suck deliberate. His grip on your thighs tightens as if he’s anchoring himself to you, determined to keep you right where he wants you.  

Your thumb traces over the scar on his cheek, a gentle contrast to the heat pooling in your core. “Much better,” you tease, your voice barely above a breath, though the playful lilt doesn’t go unnoticed.  

At that, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, dark and laced with something dangerous. His eyes lower in a silent warning — one you barely have time to process before he hums deeply against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure straight through you. Your body jolts, fingers tightening in his hair, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, he redoubles his efforts, dragging you even deeper into the fire.

You push your hips further into his face, desperation guiding your movements, and he welcomes it — welcomes you. His mouth works you over with relentless hunger, tongue flicking and curling, lips sealing around your clit with dizzying precision. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement, and you know he probably can't breathe.

But Jungkook doesn't give a fuck.

If anything, he buries himself deeper, groaning as he drowns in you, hands gripping your thighs like he never wants to leave. He's proud, eager, insatiable — wholly unbothered by the thought of suffocating between your legs. If this is how he dies, he'll do it happily.

You throw your head back, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans threatening to spill from your mouth. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath his relentless tongue, but you can't risk being loud — not with Jungkook's parents somewhere in the house.

The walls are thin, far too thin, and the last thing you need is for them to hear what's happening behind this closed door. Your gasps come out shaky, uneven, each one catching in your throat as you fight to stay quiet. But Jungkook isn't making it easy. He hums against you again, the vibrations shooting through your core, and when your fingers tighten in his hair, he only doubles down, eating you like he doesn't care if you get caught.

Despite Jungkook's reckless determination to die between your thighs, his body betrays him. He suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gulps in deep, heavy breaths. His face glistens with your slick, flushed from the lack of air and the heat of the moment. His ears burn red, lips swollen and glossy, eyes dark with raw hunger. But he doesn't waste a second — he leans back in, stealing one more kiss from your throbbing core before standing.

His hands go straight to his belt, fumbling in his urgency, fingers nearly trembling as he rips it off. His pants and boxers are shoved down in one swift motion, and his cock springs free — thick, flushed, the pretty pink tip leaking evidence of his arousal. It stands tall, curved slightly, twitching as he wraps a firm hand around the base.

A groan of relief slips from his lips as he strokes himself, his head tipping back for a moment before his gaze locks onto you again, hungry and unashamed.

"That hard from eating some pussy?" you tease, smirking as you watch him.

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around his cock. "You should be honored. I nearly nutted in my fucking pants doing that." He steps closer, lips curling into a smirk of his own. "Take your shirt off."

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "You first."

Jungkook huffs out a playful scoff, rolling his eyes, but he listens. With one swift motion, he reaches behind his back, gripping the fabric of his sweater before yanking it over his head and tossing it aside. His toned chest and arms flex with the movement, muscles rippling beneath his inked skin. The sight alone makes your stomach clench with anticipation.

But what really gets you is the way he immediately wraps his hand around his cock again, resuming his slow, deliberate strokes. He's getting harder, impossibly so, the veins along his shaft becoming more pronounced. His eyes stay locked on you, dark and hooded, drinking in every inch of your body like he's imagining all the ways he's about to ruin you.

"Your turn," he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

You take your time, dragging out the moment as you lift your sweater over your head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air prickles against your skin, your bare shoulders exposed, but your bra still remains, teasing him just enough.

Jungkook's jaw flexes. His thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, spreading the precum leaking from his slit, but his patience is thinning.

"All of it," he commands, voice firm. There's no room for argument.

You reach behind your back, fingers deftly working the clasp of your bra. The moment it unhooks, the straps slip from your shoulders, the fabric going slack against your skin. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pull it off completely and let it drop to the floor, joining the rest of your discarded clothes.

Jungkook's breath stutters. His strokes slow for a moment as his eyes drink you in, dark and full of heat, pupils blown wide with unfiltered desire. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, jaw tightening as he exhales sharply through his nose.

Feeling like a third wheel between Jungkook and his cock, you slip off the bed and onto your knees before him. His brows furrow slightly when you wrap your fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand away from his aching length. His cock twitches in the cool air, glistening with precum, and you don’t hesitate — leaning in, you drag your tongue slowly from the thick base of his shaft up to his flushed, leaking tip.  

A sharp breath escapes him, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. He lets you take control for a moment, but then, instead of letting you simply pull his wrist away, his fingers slide down to lace with yours, gripping your hand in a silent, desperate plea. Your lips part, taking him in, your tongue swirling over the sensitive head before pressing flat against the underside. 

“Fuck… gonna- make me fucking cum already, baby,” he groans, voice thick with pleasure, his grip tightening around your hand.  

But just as he teeters on the edge, you pull off with a wet pop, a teasing glint in your eyes as you look up at him. His cock twitches in protest, a string of spit connecting your lips to his flushed tip.  

“Want you to fuck me,” you murmur, voice laced with need.  

Jungkook exhales a shaky breath, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?”  

You nod, biting your lip, heat simmering between you.  

His jaw flexes as his eyes darken. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you.” His grip on your hand tightens briefly before he lets go. “Get on the bed, baby.”  

Your heart pounds as you stand, climbing onto the mattress, anticipation thrumming through your veins. He doesn’t waste a second — his lips crash against yours, the force of his kiss sending you toppling onto the bed. His body presses flush against yours, a delicious heat radiating between you as he deepens the kiss.

Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, breathless, his forehead nearly touching yours as he looks down between your bodies. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself slowly, teasingly, as if grounding himself in the moment. But then, he stills.  

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom, baby,” he murmurs, voice tight with frustration.  

You reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over the flushed heat of his skin. “It’s fine,”  

His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching. “You still sure?”  

You groan, your patience hanging by a thread. “Jungkook, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m never talking to you again.”  

He chuckles, before finally giving in. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open as he guides himself forward, the thick, swollen head of his cock pressing against your sopping entrance. He teases you first, dragging the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A sharp gasp rips from your throat as he stretches you open, inch by inch, your walls clenching around him as they struggle to accommodate his sheer size. The delicious burn of fullness has your back arching, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper. Your nails bite into the inked skin of his shoulder, desperate for something to ground you.  

“Gosh, you’re so big,” you moan, voice breaking as pleasure swirls in your stomach.  

Jungkook groans, his head dropping for a moment before he lifts it, watching the way your body takes him in. His jaw clenches, restraint evident in the way his fingers tighten on your thighs.  

“You can take it,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I know you can.”  

He presses in further, inch by inch, until he bottoms out, the head of his cock nudging deep inside you. A deep, guttural moan escapes him as he stills, giving you a moment to adjust, his thumbs stroking over your skin in a silent praise.

"Okay, you can move," you whisper, your breath shaky with anticipation, giving him the green light.  

Without hesitation, Jungkook pulls back, the thick head of his cock dragging slowly out of you, the wetness between your bodies creating a squelchy sound that fills the room. He pauses for a breath, then pushes back in, the pressure of his thick shaft sliding into you with a deep, satisfying thrust.  

Your body trembles with each movement, the slickness between you amplifying the sound of him sinking into you, the heat building in your core as his rhythm deepens. His hands grip your thighs tighter, the tension in his muscles visible as he focuses on every inch of you, filling you completely with each stroke.  

He leans down, capturing your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours as his fingers dig into your hips. His lips trail lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, along the sensitive column of your throat, until he reaches your collarbone. He latches on, sucking at the delicate skin, leaving a mark that he knows will be there in the morning.

His thrusts grow quicker, rougher, his grip on your waist tightening as he pounds into you. The bedframe slams against the wall with each movement, the rhythmic banging growing louder, impossible to ignore.

"Fuck," Jungkook grits out, a mix of pleasure and panic flickering across his face. You feel too good — too warm, too tight, too perfect — but reality crashes in. His parents are near, and the thought of them hearing what's happening in the bed he used to sleep in as a kid sends a chill down his spine. Without hesitation, he pulls out, breathing heavily as he grabs your hand. His dark eyes flicker with urgency as he tugs you up. "Get up,"

Confused, you obey nonetheless, your legs still shaky as Jungkook leads you across the room. He drops down onto the chair by his desk, spreading his legs slightly, his dark, impatient gaze locking onto yours. He holds his hands out, palms open, a silent command.

"Come here," he murmurs, guiding you with a tilt of his head.

You hesitate, glancing between him and the chair. "You serious?"

Jungkook huffs, his jaw ticking. "You want my parents to know we're fucking in here?" His fingers flex, beckoning you closer. "Hurry up, babe. A few more bounces, and I got you."

You sigh, but the heat in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. Stepping between his legs, you plant your hands on his broad shoulders for support before straddling him.

His hands immediately find your lower back, one strong arm keeping you steady while the other wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself against your entrance.

A shudder runs through you as you sink down onto him, inch by inch, until you're seated fully in his lap, his cock buried deep inside you. His grip tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he takes control, lifting you slightly before helping you bounce on him.

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach, overriding everything else — the growing cramp in your leg, the sharp pressure of your knees pressing into the hard wooden chair. None of it matters. All you can focus on is chasing your high, the way his cock fills you so perfectly, the delicious friction driving you closer and closer to the edge.

But Jungkook's attention is elsewhere. His eyes are locked on your tits, mesmerized by the way they bounce with every movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. A sharp gasp escapes you as he sucks greedily, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. His hands slide up your back, pressing you closer, desperate to feel as much of you as possible.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the dark strands, while your other hand grips his shoulder for support. His groan vibrates against your skin, sending a shiver straight through you. The heat between you is unbearable, all — consuming, and you know neither of you will last much longer.

Jungkook's hands roam lower, squeezing your ass before delivering a sharp slap that makes you jolt. He grips both cheeks, spreading them apart as he helps you move, guiding you up and down on his cock with a firm, steady hold.

His own breaths are ragged, his restraint hanging by a thread as he watches you unravel above him.

"Fuck- M'gonna cum!" you whine, your voice breaking, the desperation in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, and you can't contain your volume.

Jungkook reacts instantly, his mouth leaving your tit as his hand flies up to cover your mouth, muffling your cries before they can slip past the walls. You moan helplessly against his palm as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around his cock in tight, pulsing waves. Jungkook groans, his brows furrowing as he feels you squeeze around him, the sensation almost pushing him over the edge.

"Keep going for me, yeah?" he rasps, his voice thick with need as his fingers dig into the fat of your ass. He thrusts up to meet your movements, the rhythm growing more desperate, more frantic.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as you hum against his palm, your muffled moans vibrating against his skin. The way he fills you, stretches you, has your entire body trembling.

"Yeah, make me cum, baby," he groans, his head falling back against the chair, jaw clenched tight as he teeters on the edge.

His hand slides from your mouth to your hip, his grip tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he takes control. He guides you faster, his thrusts growing more desperate, more erratic, chasing that final, dizzying high.

Your walls flutter around him, the sensation pushing him closer, pulling him under. His breathing turns ragged, his muscles tensing beneath you as pleasure coils tight in his core.

"Fuck- just like that," he grits out, his hips snapping up to meet yours in a final, desperate push.

A few more bounces, and he breaks, a deep but quiet groan spilling from his lips as he comes, his release shooting hot and deep inside you. His hands squeeze your waist, holding you down against him as he rides out his high, every pulse of pleasure leaving him breathless.

You push his damp hair back from his sweaty forehead, your fingers combing through the strands with gentle care. His chest rises and falls beneath you, still heaving from the intensity of it all.

Leaning down, you press a soft kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, a big difference to the desperation from moments ago. Jungkook hums against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, holding you close as he melts into the kiss.

When you pull away, his eyes flutter open, laced with exhaustion and something softer — something tender. A lazy smile tugs at his lips as he exhales a satisfied sigh.

"All this over some mistletoe," he teases, his voice still slightly breathless.

"The drama," you drawl, rolling your eyes playfully as you tease him back.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep and warm, vibrating against your skin. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His lips brush against your damp skin, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss there.

His cock softens inside you, but neither of you move just yet. The heat of the moment has faded, replaced by something quieter, something softer. 

“Oh!” Jungkook suddenly exclaims, his eyes lighting up as if he’s just remembered something. “I got you something.”  

You shift off of him, settling on the edge of the bed as he moves to one of the drawers. His movements are purposeful but unhurried, fingers sifting through its contents before he retrieves a long, slender gift box. He turns, extending it toward you with an expectant look.  

“You didn’t have to,” you murmur, meeting his gaze as you hesitantly take the box from his hands.  

“Just open it,” he insists, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  

With a soft breath, you lift the lid, and your heart stutters. There, nestled inside, is your necklace — whole again. The delicate chain, once broken, gleams under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, looking as flawless as the day it was first given to you.  

Your breath catches, fingers hovering over the pendant before carefully picking it up. “Kook…” you whisper, eyes lifting to his.

“I know how much it meant to you, so I got it fixed this morning,” Jungkook says softly, his voice laced with warmth. “Merry Christmas, baby.”  

Your chest tightens, emotion welling up as you blink back the tears threatening to spill. His thoughtfulness, the effort he put into something so personal to you — it means more than words can express.  

A watery smile spreads across your lips as you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kiss him, a soft press of your lips against his. Then again. And once more, lingering just a little longer this time.  

You were glad you came. Even if the initial plan to make Misa jealous had failed, it didn’t matter anymore. Because, in this moment, with Jungkook, this might just be the best Christmas of your life.

© voyter 2025, all rights reserved.

[valer1esgallery]

Small ways they show affection

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

Leaves roses on your desk or bedside table with a small cup of tea/coffee for you in the mornings, even if he isnt there, i feel like he would make you something warm to drink along with his normal coffee he has in the morning. Its not outright said, but he cares alot for you to do this every morning without fail, its become part of his routine now, not that he minds

Mammon

I feel like he would subconsciously play with your hair or your jewelry if you both are together, you both could be lost in deep conversation and he would just reach up and start playing with a strand. If you mention it to him, he would turn red and look away, claiming that he did nothing of the sorts

He gives you small shiny objects like a crow. A small bracelet, a pair of earrings, shiny rocks, coins, a cool leaf he found, he would give you those types of things

Leviathan

Leviathan is pretty socially awkward so you don't really get large displays of PDA from the demon, but if your waiting in line or are in a large crowd, he intertwines your pinkies together or holds onto your sleeve

I feel like he would also pre-save games that he thinks that you would really enjoy, sending you a vague text about saving it for you while his face is bright red behind the screen

Satan

He leaves you little note with quotes from romance novels, i will die on this hill. If he finds a book that he thinks you will like, he will leave the book on your desk with a small sticky note that reads something like 'and for the first time in his life, he felt comfortable, and its all thanks to her/him', cheesy stuff like that

Asmodeus

This man is so into PDA, a arm around your shoulder, his hand on your waist, arms linked together, fingers interlocked, he just loves PDA. But when you both are alone, you could just be talking and you have your legs over his lap, he rests his hand on your calf as you both talk

Alone, his touches are more gentle, more loving. He likes touch, and he feels just resting a hand on your leg or just resting his head on you

Beelzebub

He knows all of your favourite devildom drinks and snacks, he makes sure that he brings enough for you while he's on snack time. Sometimes they don't make it to the house but its the thought that counts!

But when they do, he restocks your small snack draw and leaves some on your desk, making sure you never go hungry

Belphegor

He would give you a small bracelet that he tops up with magic every night so that you don't have bad dreams, Is it annoying? Yes, but is it worth it to see you happy? 100% Yes

He would just lean on you, not out of sleepiness (even though it does happen), he likes to lean against your arm or rest his head on your shoulder

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry i disappeared off of the face of the earth for a while, things came up and i was in a massive writing rut for a good long while lol

but anyways, IM BACK :D

This has not been proof read lmao, what should I do next?

[alaia777]

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SPECIFY IF I WANTED FLUFF OR ANGST😓😓 I want fluff😋

I requested rin (bllk) for "you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?" OR "we should just run away."

i hope you like it! :’)

you’ve been dating rin for almost two years now, but you’ve known him for much longer—ever since kindergarten, when you told him football was stupid, and he immediately shot back that you were stupid. one “fight” later, your teacher forced you to spend recess together for a week, and somehow, you’ve been stuck with each other ever since.

so by now, it’s routine—annoying him, getting on his nerves, and watching him act like your presence is a burden when you both know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you were the one who made the first move, mostly because you had a slight suspicion he liked you. you’d had feelings for him for a while, and the more you noticed the little things, the more convinced you became.

and when you finally told him, he had the straightest face ever—completely unreadable. except for his red ears. and the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

…yeah. you were right.

the only thing he told you after that was a simple “same,” and the rest is history.

it might not look like it to anyone else, but to you, rin is the sweetest guy. sure, he has a hard time verbalizing his feelings, but you know he cares. it’s in the small things—like when he picks up your favorite beverage from the coffee shop, paired with whatever pastry obsession you’re into that week. or when he sets aside time every week to watch rom-coms with you, even if there’s a football match on tv.

and then, there are the little gifts. he never calls them sentimental, but you know better. every time he comes back from a city he was playing in, there’s always something small he picked up for you—sometimes a keychain from a place you both visited together, or a notebook from a city you’d talked about visiting but never had the chance to. each one of them has a connection to a memory between the two of you, something only the two of you would understand, and that’s what makes them so special.

but verbalizing it? he’s just not the best at it. rin’s pretty cutthroat with everyone, and even though he used to be like that with you when you were just friends, now that you’re more than that, he doesn’t want to risk it. he keeps his words to himself, always cautious.

so, when you’re getting ready for your date with him, it catches you off guard when he says:

“that is a dress.”

“yes. it is,” you reply, still not quite understanding his reaction.

“you’re wearing it.”

“yes, i am.”

you’ve worn dresses around him before, so his reaction is a bit confusing. “rin, what’s going on?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact, though you can tell he’s trying to say more.

“it fits you,” he adds, almost reluctantly, before quickly looking away, clearly not used to expressing compliments.

when you finally understood what was going on, you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles, but the more you tried, the more it looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“that movie we were watching the other day, the girl said women like to be complimented by their boyfriends. i thought..” he trailed off, his gaze darting away. “i thought you might want that too.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “oh, so now you’re using rom-coms for relationship advice, huh?”

he scowled, clearly irritated, but there was no mistaking the faint blush creeping up his neck. “shut up. don’t make this a big deal.”

you laughed again, unable to resist. “too late, rinnie. you’ve already made it a thing.”

rin let out a long sigh, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “can we just go already?” he grumbled, glancing at you quickly before looking away.

you raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “what’s the matter, rin? never complimented someone before?”

he scowled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “i don’t do that.”

“right, you’re too cool for that.” you teased, arms crossed.

“i’m not, just, it’s stupid, okay?” rin muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“so what was that about rom-coms then?” you pressed, enjoying his flustered state.

“i don’t need your sarcasm right now,” he shot back, clearly embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

you chuckled, stepping closer to him. “fine, let’s just go, rinnie. but you know, maybe you should try complimenting me more often. you’re not so bad at it.”

rin grumbled under his breath but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, just enough to know he wasn’t really as annoyed as he was letting on.

“let’s go,” he repeated, his tone still blunt, but you could tell he was less annoyed than before.

you grinned, following him out, because even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, you knew he cared.

[aleese1111]

can I request a fem reader who loves taking care of sieun? They’re in a pretty new relationship and it isn’t like she pities him but more because it’s her love language!! Gift giving and quality time.

So reader loves memorizing every little thing about sieun down to his stationary,,(yes the pens are refilled by her) would even stay up with him while studying!

She’s very used to that routine and knowing sieun he would probably still be new to the relationship so often times he isn’t able to give back to reader as much and she’s really and insists that payment would be for him to smile just a little!!

So maybe one day sieun finally does something for reader that completely takes her aback and has her falling in love with him again!!

Im so so sorry if this was long!!! But I love your whc fics so much I’m excited for more!!

the night he noticed | yeon sieun x fem!reader

summary: she's memorized every pen refill, every yawn, every page turn. But the night he tells her—in the only way he knows—that he's memorized her too, becomes the moment everything changes.

warnings: [established relationship] comfort, slow burn, emotional hurt/comfort

author's note: i don't know what to feel about this. requests ,,

there was something deeply comforting about the quiet between them. it wasn’t empty, nor was it awkward. it was the type of silence that wrapped itself around them like a soft blanket—the kind of hush that existed only between people who didn’t need to fill the air to feel seen.

she sat beside him, her legs tucked under her on the floor of his room, surrounded by books, scattered notes, and the quiet tapping of his mechanical pencil. the overhead light was dimmed, casting a gentle glow that didn’t interfere with concentration but still allowed them to see one another when they glanced up. it was late—later than most would stay up willingly—but she was used to that. used to this.

his pen clicked once, then twice. she reached over before he could do it again, switching it out for a refilled one. he blinked and looked at her, only briefly, but she saw the thanks in his eyes. he never said much, not in the beginning. words weren’t his strength, and she’d learned early that the language he spoke best was one of restraint and observation. so she’d adapted. she had learned him.

every pen refill, every extra highlighter, every back-up graph sheet tucked into his folder—those were her ways of loving him. staying up when her eyes begged for sleep, just to make sure he wasn’t alone in his intensity, was her routine. not because she had to. because she wanted to. because somewhere in the middle of library tables and coffee-fueled all-nighters, she had fallen for him. not the way people usually did. she didn’t fall for his silence, or despite it. she fell into it. and learned how to love inside it.

she didn’t expect things in return. she knew he wasn’t like her. he wasn’t wired to recognize the little things, let alone mirror them. that was okay. all she ever asked for was a smile. just a small one. and even that, she never pressed for. sometimes it happened, and when it did—it felt like the sun.

tonight, though, felt different.

he was writing, yes, focused like always. but there was something off about the way he glanced at her. more frequent. as if he were trying to say something without saying it. she didn’t comment. she only shifted, brushing a stray sticky note from his leg.

"you missed dinner," she said quietly.

he paused, then shrugged.

"you didn’t eat either," he replied.

she smiled softly. “didn’t want to leave you alone.”

he hummed, barely audible. then went back to writing.

minutes passed. maybe more. time moved strangely in their little cocoon. eventually, he closed the textbook, sliding it aside. she blinked at him, surprised.

“you done for the night?” she asked.

he didn’t answer. not directly.

instead, he stood up and disappeared briefly into the hallway. she heard faint sounds from the kitchen. her eyebrows furrowed.

when he returned, he held a small tray. a bowl of rice porridge—simple, warm, and clearly homemade. next to it, a mug of ginger tea. she stared at it, stunned.

"i didn’t know how to make much," he said, eyes down. “but i remembered you said your stomach hurts when you skip meals.”

her heart stilled.

he didn’t sit back down immediately. just stood there awkwardly, almost uncomfortable with himself. his ears were flushed, just barely.

she took the tray slowly, reverently. cradled it in her lap.

“you made this?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

he nodded. “i watched a video. checked the ingredients. made sure it wasn’t too salty.”

she blinked quickly, trying not to let tears pool in her eyes.

“i didn’t think you noticed,” she said. “about the stomachaches.”

“i notice more than i say.”

that was it. just that. but to her, it was everything.

she took a spoonful, the warmth of it somehow extending beyond the bowl and into her chest. it wasn’t perfect—but it didn’t need to be. the care in it was unmistakable.

“i memorize things too,” he said, quietly, almost defensively. “not like you. not as often. but i do.”

her throat tightened.

“i know you set out my pens by color,” he continued, eyes not meeting hers. “and that you refill them even when i don’t notice. i know you only drink that strawberry milk after 2 a.m. i know you leave your charger half-unplugged because you don’t like sparks.”

she covered her mouth with one hand, heart in her throat.

“i just don’t always know what to do with the things i notice,” he said finally. “but i’m trying.”

she put the tray aside and crawled across the space between them. he didn’t look up until her hands were cupping his face, gently.

his eyes, always so guarded, softened instantly.

“you don’t have to do anything with them,” she whispered. “just remembering is already more than enough.”

he leaned slightly into her touch. she felt him sigh—really sigh—for the first time in weeks.

“i wanted to give back,” he murmured.

“you did,” she replied, voice thick. “you are.”

she kissed his forehead, soft and slow.

that night, she stayed a little closer than usual. her head on his shoulder, his hand awkwardly but intentionally resting against hers. they didn’t speak again. they didn’t need to.

in the quiet, he noticed her. and finally, she knew—he always had.

[ywuji]

Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol

ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)

perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)

n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...

i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.

it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)

it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his. 

he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.

maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.

but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.

nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.

and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.

you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.

honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(

no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.

“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.

when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.

he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.

when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.

a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?

at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.

he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”

in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.

he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.

he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.

he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.

he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.

he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.

he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.

[earlysunshines]

killshot

im nayeon x fem!reader ; smut!! 

synopsis: your roommate is aware that you hate her and she likes irritating you but oh no she just now realizes you’re hot and wants you so bad

warnings: kinda porn w no plot ; smut!!! ; mentions of alcohol ; hate fucking(???) ; degradation kinda ; insulting each other as they fuck yesss ; face riding ; comp sci major!reader *shivers and shakes* ; fwb-ish but not really ; nayeon is umm lowk manipulative but only if you squint , maybe? ; not proofread as always

wc: 5.1k

a/n: computer science major slander (i'm jealous) and also i don’t like the pacing but oh well maybe u guys will (i'd be such a great writer if i weren’t lazy af... )

with a groan, you lift yourself off the bed after hearing a loud thud. tiredly, you blindly reach for your phone and check for the time with squinted eyes: 1:04am. 

a low “fuck” leaves your lips while you struggle to sit up, still hearing the impact of bodies crashing against the walls and the faint sounds of a woman and man groaning through the bedroom door.  

nayeon is home. 

this is a bi-weekly occurrence; your roommate nayeon stumbles into the apartment all hot and heavy from the alcohol that was in her system, and then you can hear her getting all intimate—against your will—with some random person she’s found at the various clubs she cycles through. to be completely honest, you don’t care for her midnight rendezvous, just as long as they don’t bother you. 

however, this night she’s bothered you greatly; you’re fucking irritated. 

just when you had finally sought solace in the arms of sleep after hours of laboring over a project, your few minutes of rest are abruptly shattered by the intrusion of nayeon. —all drunk and insatiable—who’s barging into your room whilst some average guy latches onto her neck. he doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing, but it doesn’t matter because nayeon’s senses are too fucked to really pay attention to that. 

“get the hell out of my room.” you yell angrily towards the two. to say you were annoyed would be an overwhelming understatement, you were furious. 

“ah—fuck, sorry y/n,” she responds, voice all airy and light whilst the man’s hand slides down to play with the edge of her dress. “wrong room baby, let’s go.” she says whilst pushing the man off her a bit, much to his dismay. 

they both leave the room, still attached to each other with their hands roaming and gripping at anything. to make matters even worse; they didn’t close the door behind them. 

“fucking whore.” you scoff, falling back down on your bed and groaning.  

- 

im nayeon is an indescribable pain in your ass and unfortunately, she also happens to be your roommate. 

for the most part, you generally pride yourself on your composure and tolerance, but living with nayeon has truly put your patience to the test. she's irresponsible and unreliable, which regularly pushes you to your limits. you find yourself frustrated sharing an apartment with someone who’s always falling hort of your expectations. she's falling far from them, really, and it’s almost impressive. 

she has a knack for disappearing into the lurking in the apartment while you're away, often entertaining friends and leaving behind a mess in her wake. the audacity she possesses to neglect simple chores like doing the dishes or tidying up after herself borders on infuriating, you’re fighting the urge to bodyslam her into the mattress sometimes. it's as though she expects the cleaning fairy to magically swoop in and restore order while you're left to pick up the pieces of her irresponsibility, maybe she thinks you’re the fucking cleaning fairy. 

living with her was hell, you don’t even know how she managed to keep up with her courses and stay sane with how she lived her life. she was a pretentious, sassy little thorn stuck in your skin. 

but still, there are two things that keep you tethered to the apartment, even if it's a bit embarrassing to admit on factor. one: the rent is cheaper, and your shared living space is nice. two: nayeon’s fucking hot. 

the truth is: nayeon is the epitome of physical allure, the hottest person you've ever laid eyes on. as much as you resent her for her shortcomings, you find yourself unable to ignore the pull of her undeniable visuals, which whispers against the urge to pack your bags and leave.  

you despised the stupid allure of her face, the way her figure teased and tempted, and the fact that she held the power to have you on your knees if she poked you in the right ways. it grated on your nerves to know that you weren't the only one drawn to her; half the campus seemed to be either enamored with her, aspiring to be her, or eager to get into her pants. and she wielded her beauty like a weapon, using her "pretty privilege" to her advantage.  

the feeling you had towards her was bitter, but the attraction you had made things complicated. 

it was easy to mask your little attraction for your pretentious roommate with annoyed comments and irritated glares, but deep inside you wanted her in ways that you could never admit out loud. countless daydreams and very questionable thoughts about her invaded your mind at the worst times possible, espeically when she was near. 

- 

- 

your irritation mixed with attraction was mutual. nayeon felt the same way about you; what a match. 

at first, nayeon found herself irritated by your stuck-up demeanor and seemingly perfect self. your involvement in various extracurricular activities, dedication to your studies, and honestly majoring in computer science major as a whole contributed to her initial impression of you as someone who had it all together. it was a stark contrast to her own carefree attitude and laid-back approach to everything, which built friction between the two of you. 

(nayeon could never do all of that, study for hours and keep her shit together. and god, especially watching you type for two hours straight already made her head swirl. how does someone do that without losing their shit? she wonders if you’re okay) 

from nayeon's perspective, you were nothing more than a stuck-up bitch in her shared home, always fussing over cleanliness like a relentless clean freak. it striked a nerve every time you scolded her for leaving behind a couple of dishes or a few stray bottles of alcohol. if it bothered you so much, why not just pick up after yourself instead of constantly complaining? 

despite the irritation you stirred within her, nayeon couldn't deny the undeniable truth: you were actually pretty cute for a nerdy, uptight roommate. in fact, she'd even go as far as to admit that you were pretty hot. 

nayeon has seen the people in the computer science department, most of them are men who look like they’ve never spoken to a woman or gone outside for more than thirty minutes a day. you on the other hand were quite the sight, someone nayeon would describe as “eye candy.” 

and yeah, she kind of overlooked the fact that you were her type after you had yelled at her so much, but then there was this one little moment that changed her mind. maybe she could tolerate you more. 

(maybe nayeon had to put looks first in this case.) 

-- 

-- 

some thursday afternoon, while you typically would be found either buried in books at the library or enjoying the afternoon at a café, nayeon found herself in a predicament—she couldn't find one of her favorite t-shirts. with frustration growing, she decided to take matters into her own hands and went into your room to see if it had somehow ended up there, given that you were supposed to be out.  

to her surprise, she discovered that you were most definitely home, a fact that caught her completely off guard—especially when you’re home in your room, in the middle of taking your pants off. 

she barges into your room to see you with your shirt off and the fly of your pants down, revealing some of the logo of your victoria’s secret underwear. your cheeks flush a dark hue of red when you realize she’s invaded your privacy, and you quickly cover your chest—which, is already covered since you have a bra on, but god is this whole situation embarrassing.  

after you literally push her out the door—slamming it shut with embarrassment—nayeon stands outside the door with a newfound interest.  

nayeon couldn't fathom that someone who dedicated their sanity to lines of numbers and letters on a screen could look so good. there was something mesmerizing about the subtle groove tracing down your stomach, hinting at the definition of your abs, or the glimpse of your bicep as you hastily covered yourself and scolded her for intruding, maybe even the hint of muscle on your shoulders. whatever it was—all nayeon knew was that the little mishap of you not locking the door and giving her the chance see you like that piqued her interest without doubt. 

and after seeing you half naked? the image of you, with your shirt off and the hint of your physique tantalizingly on display? holy shit you had her fantasizing a little (a lot) more than she already had been; she needed some of her fantasies to come true.  

your roommate had already been attentive to your quick—and evident—glances on her body and her lips. she also noted the subtle bite of your lips when she swayed by, your eyes barely caught her, but she noticed it all. getting her fantasies to become a reality seemed easy enough—probably—and she was determined to make it all happen.  

she knew she already had you starting to wrap around her finger, just by those observations, so it should be easy enough to get you hot and heavy, right? 

- 

“oh look who’s finally fucking awake.” you mutter, turning around to see the hungover, marked up woman emerging from the hall.  

nayeon rolls her eyes at you like always and simply responds, “oh shut up, don’t be a drag.” 

“i’m a drag? i’m not the one barging in at one in the morning the same night my roommate stays up to actually do their school shit. not only that, but that fucking guy—” 

“was a terrible kisser,” nayeon cuts you off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i kicked him out so can you please just—” 

“no!” you scoff, surprising nayeon with this burst of anger. you’re much more irritated than usual, which is weird. nayeon suspects that it’s because she’s never accidentally stumbled into your room, and to be fair; this was kind of intentional.  

you see, nayeon thought that if she could make you a little jealous, it’d increase the chances of you intervening. just what she wanted. 

“i couldn’t fucking sleep and i have a really important assessment today.” 

“yeah yeah, move over i need some tea.” nayeon says tiredly. upon hearing her response, you clench your jaw tightly and lean against the marble counter, gripping it with one hand tightly to suppress your annoyance. 

your roommate looks at you and a laugh slips out accidentally. after hearing that, there's probably a vein visible on your forehead, maybe your neck—somewhere. 

that was your last straw. 

angrily, you lift yourself off the counter and swiftly advance towards nayeon, pinning her against the fridge with force. the impact reverberates through her as her back meets the cold surface, while you lean in closer, your eyes narrowing with intensity.  

now, this should not be turning nayeon on—she’s going to blame it on her hangover and whatnot, and maybe the fact that whoever that guy was and whatever he did didn’t really satitate her—but it does.  

with barely an inch of space separating you, your height advantage allows you to tilt your head down, locking eyes with nayeon with a glare. the tension crackles between you like a firework, it’s thick and palpable, your look shows restrained anger. despite how furious you look, there's an unexpected allure to you, drawing nayeon in even as she senses the little reprimanding you’ll give her. 

“don’t give me that fucking attitude nayeon. you’re fucking unbelievable, you’re a fucking slut, you know?” 

“yeah?” she says, a smirk tugging at her pretty, plump lips.  

you feel your body tense as soon as you start to take in the proximity of the two of you. gulping lightly, you move yourself away just an inch, but nayeon pauses you, pinching your collar. 

“oh don’t get so timid now, you were just fuming earlier pretty.” she laughs. “keep going. this is cute, i like this. what did you call me again?” 

as nayeon's eyes flicker from yours to your lips and back again, the tension between you is like pushing down on a spring, and it’s about to pop back up any moment. sensing an opportunity, nayeon skillfully navigates her way out of the looming scolding, her allure becoming a potent weapon against your mood. she begins to weave her charm, coaxing a reluctant softening in your expression. despite your initial anger, you find yourself drawn to her, you can’t let yourself slip up, not now, not when she’s the reason you might fail your assessment. 

“you’re— you’re so... fucking irritating…” you mumble the last part of your sentence, voice getting smaller. you push yourself away from her and shake your head, trying to conceal your blush. nayeon giggles before going back to making her tea, the tension in the air like an invisible weight pressing down on you, and this whole morning might just completely flatten you down from how distracting it’ll be the whole day. 

nayeon’s relieved, at least you’re not scolding her while she dips her chamomile bag in and out her little mug of hot water. 

- 

the day is filled with the events of the morning, with you struggling to finish various lines of code because the feeling of nayeon toying with your collar lingers, and nayeon trying to force the thought of you finally snapping in her head. 

seems like the two of you are trying to avoid the same thought, despite how badly you two want it. 

it's palpable that there’s something in the air that needs to be swatted away, and nayeon knows you’re too much of a coward to really do anything about it, so she’ll figure somethign out.  

one thing about im nayeon: she always gets her way, no questions asked, no matter what it takes. 

- 

nayeon finds you on the couch typing away later that night, probably doing some homework. 

nayeon plops down next to you, intending to tease and push you over the edge. you turn your head after feeling the cushions under you shift, immediately grimacing once you see your roommate. 

“what do you want?” 

“what, i can’t sit next to my roommate?” nayeon questions, “i’m just going to watch tv, if you don’t like it you can leave.”  

“whore.” you mutter under your breath, quiet enough so she doesn’t catch what you say.  

your roommate lounges lazily on the couch and rests her head against the armrest. as she reclined, her hair spilled over, framing her face like a halo. nayeon's gaze wandered lazily around the room before settling on the tv, and with a languid movement, she turned to lay fully, bending her legs so they didn't intrude into your personal space. 

your jaw tensed, a visceral reaction to the sight before you. the light from the tv in the dimmed room accentuated the allure of nayeon's figure. you couldn't help but steal a glance, your attention momentarily torn away from your screen by the annoyingly captivating vision in your periphery. 

casual sweatpants adorned her figure, the looseness of the bottoms from brandy allowing for comfort yet teasingly hinting at the eye-catching curves of her terribly alluring figure beneath. the fit of her tank top—cropped just enough to expose a sliver of her toned midriff—effortlessly made your gaze linger. the fabric clung to her silhouette in all the right places, revealing the subtle contours that sent a subtle jolt through the room and your veins. you completely forgot about pretending to be irritated in that brief trance. 

the tank top, snug against her skin, revealed a gentle dip of her collarbone, an enticing invitation that you took note of. the image staying in your head even as your attention returned to your screen. a flush settled on your cheeks as you tried to focus again. the ambiance of the room, however, remained penetrated with the downplayed sensuality that lingered in the air. you huff lowly. she's winning whatever game this is without even trying. 

after typing at your laptop for a bit, you hear the faint sound of people talking in the background. you look up from the screen and see some show playing, then turn to see nayeon’s head turned toward the tv.  

shaking your head, you redirect your attention back to the assignment in front of you; the task is quite easy, but it’s insanely tedious and for some strange reason nayeon’s presence isn’t helping you. 

nayeon shifts on the couch and sits upright against the cushion, you don’t bat an eye. your roommate is sick of you being academic, she’s bored and wants your attention. needs it, maybe. 

“when’s that due?”  

without turning your head, you respond, “next week.” 

“why do it now?” 

“why do you care?” your tone is impatient. “and besides, it’s better to get things done earlier.” 

“nerd.” nayeon sighs. she scoots over and peers at your screen, putting her hand down beside you to prop herself up and when she leans over, her boob smushes against your arm a little.  

you glare at her. “aren’t you usually out? it’s a friday night.” 

she shrugs. “didn’t feel like it.” and after she scans the screen one more time, she leans away (to your dismay) and continues on with whatever drama she had been watching.  

the thought of her boob being smushed against you lingers, embarassingly it’s almost tattooed in your mind for the next half an hour. 

when you finish your assignment, that’s when you let out a big, hefty breath and close your laptop.  

nayeon's annoyingly melodic giggle dances in the air as you sink into the plush couch, surrendering to its embrace that eases the pain in your shoulders. after savoring your few seconds of tranquility, your thoughts drift to the comfort awaiting you in your bedroom, your bed, peace and quiet, being enveloped by the blanket.  

as you start to stand up, a delicate yet firm grip clings to your forearm, delaying your departure. nayeon's touch, like a sirens call, invites you to linger, gently coaxing you to stay a little longer. 

she bats her eyelashes at you. “stay here.”  

you brows knit. “why would i stay with you?”  

“watching shows alone is boring, and i know your ass isn’t going anywhere tonight.” 

you groan in response and decide to give in—you might as well lounge on the couch for a bit—earning a smug smile from your roommate. she unpauses her show and you allow yourself to ease into the cushion, then watch with her (against your will), only to immediately tense up at the scene that unravels before your eyes. 

two girls appear on screen, and they’re kissing each other.  

they’re close, kissing, and then fifteen seconds pass and boom—they’re eating each other’s mouths sloppily, groaning and everything, tongue and all. you shift in your seat when you feel a weird pulse down at your core. 

“y/n,” nayeon starts, “have you ever even kissed someone?” 

“of course i have.” you respond, crossing your arms.  

nayeon turns her head in surprise and tilts her head. “seriously?” 

“yes, is it that surprising?” 

“well, you’re always cooped up in the house and whatnot… didn’t think you had any game.” 

“i hooked up with someone last month for your information. i'm not a homebody.” 

“yeah? sure, you did.” she laughs, shaking her head. you roll your eyes at her. 

“fuck you.” you mutter, keeping your eyes on the tv and watching the two girls undress each other. “do you always watch shit like this?” 

“why, does it turn you on or something?” nayeon asks, shifting closer to you. a lump forms in your throat. 

you shoot a quick glare at her and lie, “no.” 

nayeon laughs in amusement after pink dusts your cheeks. “you seem pretty flustered baby.” 

what the fuck? 

as you meet her gaze, a wave of surprise washes over you, mirroring the hunger that burns in her eyes. nayeon's laughter tumbles from her lips, enchanting and playful, as she places her hand delicately on the couch. leaning towards you, she ignites a spark that makes your heart skip a beat. feeling a sudden urge to be closer, you subtly shift in your seat, captivated by the exhilarating simplicity of the moment and giving into nayeon’s intentions. 

“i don’t believe you.” she says. 

“what?” 

“you’ve never kissed someone, hell, like you could even fuck someone.” 

“excuse me?” 

she just laughs at the mix of emotions coming from you; your cheeks are dusted pink, but your tone and expression displays that regular irritated look of yours. 

then she bites the corner of her lip, finally easing into the reason she even bothered you in the first place. she leans a little closer, lips hovering near your ear lobe, and giggles again. 

“how about you prove that you’ve fucked someone, hm?” nayeon suggests, raising her brows. “that you even can.” 

your breath trembles slightly, you’re stiff in your place. 

“if it’ll shut you up then... fine.” 

she clicks her tongue, then pulls away from your ear. now she’s looking at you with a shit eating grin, you want to wipe it off her face. 

the air stilled, your breath shook, and nayeon’s hand inches to your forearm. her other hand grabs the collar of your shirt, pulling you in and your lips meet in the middle. 

she tastes like cherry, well, her lip gloss does. 

your hand finds its way to the back of her neck, pushing her deeper into you so your lips can hungrily slide and suck and gosh, everything, all of the above, both a and c, you name it. 

the last thing you had on your mind for the friday night was kissing your roommate aggressively. initially, you were just going to finish the assignment and take a nap or something, but this? it’s much better than what you had planned originally. 

nayeon practically takes your breath away after simply kissing you, just the way your lips lock makes you greedy. you groan accidentally, embarassed until you have nayeon groaning into you too, even louder for that matter. 

you pull away for a brief moment, voice a little shaky and out of breath. “is this why you bothered me? are you that horny that you wanted me to fuck you?” 

“oh shut up, it’s not like you’re against it.” nayeon’s right, you’re not. not in the slightest. 

“fuck you” is uttered from your lips before you crash your lips against her again, taking the air from her lungs again. 

the kissing quickly escalates and your tongues are in each other’s mouths. you’re both unashamedly moaning and groaning into each other carelessly, it’s funny how quickly everything escalated within seconds, the boundaries between whatever you two had dissolved like sugar in boiling water. you shift yourselves over so that nayeon is under you, both your knees on either side of her legs. you reach over for the remote to pause the two girls who were mirroring the two of you—well, the two of you started going at it after they did so maybe it was the two of you mirroring them. 

each subsequent kiss felt as electrifying as the crackle of sparks dancing in a bonfire. the more nayeon deepened the kiss the more it drove you crazy, irrationally enough to continue kissing her and slip your hands under her shirt. 

nayeon sighs blissfully as you kiss down her neck, her fingers tangle with your hair while she claws at it aggressively, and still, the pain from her grabbing your hair only turns you on more. 

“fuck,” she groans when you suck on her neck, sinking her nails into your tricep. 

“slut.” you mutter, smirking against her. “so easy to rile up.” 

unashamedly, nayeon begs and begs for you until you’re biting down on her skin, repeatedly uttering your name until you’re leaving marks that’ll have her friends wondering who ruined her this time—and this time, it’s not some person she’s run into at the bar while tipsy. 

still, she could get drunk just off of you. 

you start to undress her, starting with her top and taking a moment to gaze at her undeniably alluring figure. strands of hair just barely stick to her forehead as she gazes at you breathlessly with eyes full of lust. she moves her slender fingers to work at the edge of your shirt, urging you to take that stupid t-shirt you have on off so she can get a sight of your surprisingly exciting figure. maybe she’ll get a better, longer view of what she had seen that night she walked in on you changing. 

“fuck, why have you been hiding this?” she mutters, sliding her hand down your side. “god you fucking bitch.” 

“if i didn’t you’d be all over me, you fucking horny mess.” you spit back harshly, but the way you moan when nayeon latches her lips onto your neck completely rids of that fake, irritated tone of yours.  

nayeon ends up on top of you in a matter of seconds, thenyou’re groping her ass shamelessly as you two devour each other’s mouths again. hands tug at whatever else covers your bodies until it’s just the two of you skin to skin. everything that had just happened in the span of ten minutes was for sure ten times better than whatever else had been going on in the movie. 

you can feel her grinding desperately against your thigh as you kiss her, feeling the moisture from her needy cunt that dampens your once-dry upper leg. you palm her breasts blindly and feel her gasp against you, and then nayeon forgets how to breath when you press your thigh up and against her, adding more stimulus. 

she moans frustratedly, the feeling of just your thigh against her throbbing pussy is far from what she needs. so, she’s putting her hand on the middle of your chest and pushing you down to lay flat on your back. she bites her lip blatantly before lifting her hips away from your skin. 

you furrow your brows in confusion and begin, “what are you—” 

“shut up,” she grunts, shoving one hand in your head and gripping your hair so rough that you whimper. she shifts over so that her pussy is directly above your mouth and orders: “just eat, bitch.” 

this is something you can’t argue with her about, and fuck you’re hungry.  

there’s a meal waiting for you that you’ve been craving, you can’t just lay there and starve. 

eagerly, you lift your head up a bit to meet the aching in between her legs; she’s so wet and you’re definitely teasing her about this later—but who knows how long it will take until it’s later. 

she moans louder than ever and it surprises the both of you, it only leaves you wanting more of her, wanting to hear her when she’s at her limit. your nails sink into the flesh of her thigh as you devour ravenously, taking note of what makes her twitch more and what earns lewder noises. what earns noises that turn you on more than ever. 

it doesn’t surprise you how shameless she is during sex—clearly, she isn’t ashamed of seducing her roommate—the way she rides your face so desperately gives you enough to know how she is. 

nayeon likes when you suck on her clit, she grips your hair tighter with each “pop” sound that’s made after you release the suction. she’s easy to read, her cunt is easy to adjust to. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” nayeon moans, leaning back little while she continues to ride, head tilted back and face almost parallel to the ceiling. “god-- fuck, oh my—shit, keep going,” 

you can see her tits from your view, nipples all perked up while you grip onto her thighs tighter, feeling her shake in your grasp.  

nayeon's like an alarm clock, ticking and ticking away until the alarm rings, her cry echoing through the room, hand gripping at your hair tighter than ever as her head falls back. you continue to savor her arousal even after she came, earning little whines and whispers of your name. 

“oh, y/n, just like that...”  

you're doing all the work now, which only helps with your aversion towards her, but still, you’ve made her moan, cry—all of the above, so at least there’s something to use against her. 

and then she lifts herself off of you, letting your head rest back against the seat of the couch so you can catch your breath.  

when she looks down, all she can make out through fuzzy vision and overwhelmed senses is the puff of your lips, hooded eyes, and fucked up hair; everything about the sight of you is a product of her desires, a fantasy that’s been lingering in her mind now come true. 

“slut,” you mutter, almost breathlessly. “you’re really loud, you know.”  

“fuck you.” 

“already did.” you retort, giggling. “let’s go for another.” 

“oh so now look who’s a horny mess.” nayeon responds, moving over to sit on your lap. 

you sit up, holding yourself up with your hands placed behind you. “you just never shut up, do you?” 

nayeon smiles before tracing her finger along your skin. “do you me want to?” 

you look at her amusingly before shifting positions so she’s laying down flat on her back, with you hovering above. the two of you kiss again, nayeon savoring a the traces of arousal off you, a muffled hum of delight vibrating against your locked lips. 

she pulls away, thumbing your nipple and making you groan surprisingly. you pull away to glare at her. 

nayeon laughs, “wow, you’re so--” 

you cut her off by shoving your ring and middle finger in her mouth, she almost gags, but the way she sucks obediently is enough to tell you that she’s enjoying this. 

“you just never shut up,”  

in response, she moans with your fingers still in your mouth, right before you pull them out, skin coated with her saliva. 

you bring your fingers down to her cunt, teasing her folds. 

“let’s change that.” 

[helliloveit]

Heavens

First fanfic ever, didn’t proofread and on top of that my english is not that good so pardon me please, and let me know if i need to fix something.

Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x reader

Warnings: Dark!Dex, reader is kinda dark too, fluff(?, Dex is obsessed with you, he stalks you.

W.c: 800

Summary: Your coworker enters your home while you’re asleep; you don’t know what to think.

You move swiftly the key in the lock of the main door of your house, your steps always so light, your body so relaxed, the lack of sleep turning down your system even before you allowed it to do. The purse landing on your kitchen aisle, the sound of your shoes tackling no-sense on the floor as you take them off. Then the shower, your work is so damn tiring, he knows, cause little later you fall on the bed in a deep, very deep slumber.

It is so deep you can’t hear him entering there, your room, to look at you sleeping peacefully, your chest rising and falling rhythmically, your skin so soft he is aching to manhandle it between his fingers, but he’s better than that, right?

It’s okay if he tracks all your schedule, know all your friends, your likes and dislikes, your eccentric music taste, the name of your last cat that, by the way, disappeared last year when he escaped into the streets, a rainy night, just like this one. None of this had you told him, but for Dex, it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t know, after all, he’s keeping you safe.

He does remember your teary face, the way those brows contorted and the eyes, red and glassy, he did his best consoling you, yes he did, cause since then, you haven’t stop greeting him with a hug and a smile at the office, your beautiful smile, yes, he’s sure, you may love him.

———————————————————————————

You have known him for a while now, looked like the type of person who knew what to say and how to say it in the exact moment needed, weird thing cause he doesn’t talk much and that certainly made you like him, he reminded you of yourself, calm, silent yet observant, you were taught that the less you talk, the less you expressed yourself, the better the people around you will treat you. You weren’t sure if that was his reasons though, sometimes, when your eyes met his briefly, his own orbs, blue and colorful, looked empty, colorless, void, once bright teals turn themselves into dark greys without any emotion, any hint of humanity in them. And then you felt something like…dread, your mouth dry but your treacherous heart would be at the pit of your throat, and that described perfectly how you feel for him just right now.

You suspect that a rough thumb grazing your lower lip made you stumble outta your dreams, you were quick when the light coming from the window parallel to your bed faltered. A broad figure stood right by your side, you didn’t scream, or shoved him away, your blood froze inside your veins, and you was left there, like a small cat who knows that the best thing to do was stay quiet and hold together until the predator loses interest in them. This wasn’t the case.

—“I’m sorry-” His voice cracks the chill silence of the room.

“Dex? How could you-” a humid breeze grazes your skin and you suddenly don’t need any answers. He turns himself back to close the window when he notices your squint. That was the perfect opportunity to knock him down, the base of your lamp is hard enough to make him fall for a good 3 minutes, which will help you get out of the house and shout for aid, but a part of you didn’t want that. Hell if you weren’t twisted too, if you didn’t want to know how deep the emptiness of his soul will lead you.

—“Im so sorry princess i- just needed to see you.” Your face contorts in confusion, you left your shift 4 hours ago, last time you saw him.

—“Dex this is so weird i-”

—“No.” His tone is severe, stops you from settling seated on the bed. —“Please just-… i wont do anything to you just…” his knee rest tentatively on the soft mattress, you gulp, your eyes fixed in his, he seems troubled, debates with himself, fighting his urges inside his mind. A hand crossed the little space between you both to caress the side of your neck, his head tilts until his forehead is resting on yours, his shallow breathing tickling your skin.

—“Let me stay here a little longer, please…” he almost whimpers, his hand growing cold in your cheek, He must be nervous, like the world is one step away from crumbling beneath his feet.

—“This won’t happen again, i promise-” How could you say no when he is rambling and begging like this? You knew this is twisted but this isn’t like he assaulted you, is it?

You scoot over to make enough space for him in your sheets, he trails back but he catches it soon, you are offering him a warm space in your bed, a scene he has only witnessed in his most intimate dreams. He’s not dumb to let it slide so he takes off his not so wet jacket now and kick his boots away.

Sweet heavens, he feels your respiration on his neck now, so warm, so vulnerable, so his. He got it done, he got you, his method pretty away to be conventional, but that doesn’t matter anymore, no when you have your leg and arm draped over him.

Anyways he wasn’t going to leave if you told him no. Maybe he needs to put some flowers in that kitty’s grave.

[chocochozi]

The Other Woman.

Pairing : Sanemi Shinazugawa x Hashira! Reader.

Warning : Spoilers for the anime/manga, angst, second choice reader, some fighting

A/N : HIII THANKYOU FOR READINGGG IM SORRY IF ITS HORRIBLE ITS MY FIRST TIME BSNXNZKZ

From the very begining, i always knew that i was just a second choice.

It has always been her it will always be her.

Shinazugawa and me met during our final selection.

He was harsh at first but warmed up to me the next few days together in the Mount Fujikasane. Truth be told, he didn't even want me to stay, i was the one following him around because he was the only one that caught my attention i didn't know why. But something about him just makes me drawn to him.

We fought in the mountain infested with demons side by side. During those times, my then unrequited love for him developed.

Time past by and we were promoted to be Hashiras. Though, it was ashame when Kumeno; the man who helped Shinazugawa and introduced him to a proper trainer, tragically died during both of their encounter with one of the holder of Lower Rank One of the Twelve Kizuki.

There, we met her.

Kanae.

And i can't blame Sanemi for falling for her charms. Shes beautiful, kind, sweet, patient, and has an easy-going personality.

How can i ever compare to her? Im not even close.

Kanae was easy to get along with, after becoming the Ice Hashira, we've sometimes been paired up by Master Ubuyashiki for missions. Therefore, we knew each other quite well.

Seeing the way Sanemi looks at her with heart eyes shatters my heart knowing he loved her, not me. The look in his eyes says it all.

How could I hate her? She's such an angel.

She's perfect where i fail.

"Nemiii~" i whined, impatiently waiting for him to stop training and come with me to eat.

"What?" The white haired man still kept his stance not once even glancing at you.

"C'monnn, you said you'll come with me to the ramen shop near byyy"

Huffing in annoyance, he straighten his body, turning fully to you a defeated expression plastered on his face. "Fine," "Your treat." He added.

"Alright, Let's go!" I grabbed his hands dragging him out then suddenly, Kanae's crow came flying to us informing about the unfortunate event's that led to Kanae's inevitable death.

The news, of course made me upset, she was my friend after all. But Sanemi took the news harder if not, the third hardest after the other two Kocho's. Talking to him seemed impossible after Kanae's death. He avoided me, he avoided everyone. When i try to have a converstation with him, his respond is always just a short answer or a simple hum.

Master Ubuyashiki summoned us two, to inform us about a mission, where we're both paired up. The walk to the place was quiet accompanied by the occational noises of cicadas. I was tired and didn't want to waste my energy to a one sided conversation so i stayed quiet.

As we were walking i felt a presence of someone behind my back, quickly turning around, i saw that a demon was launching at me, while his clawed nails reached for me. A hand wrapped around my waist hopping backwards to get away from the demon, a groaned escaped my lips,

"You okay?" I felt Sanemi's warm breath on my ears i felt a head rushed to my cheeks as i regain my composure. 'Its so hard to focus when im working with you.' I thought.

"Y..yeah. im okay, yeah." I patted the back of my neck and looked at my hands.

Blood.

"Fuck," i tilt my head up and glanced at the demon, a smirk on his face i pulled away from Sanemi taking my sword out of its sheath and drawing it towards the enemy. I took a deep breath and released it out my mouth.

"Ice breathing, first form, Freezing Slash." I launched towards the demon rapidly and precisely strinking him and his neck. Pieces of him dropped to the ground, his detatched head rolling to the ground as it disappears into thin air.

Sanemi walked towards me. "Come here." He softly says, and i obeyed like a puppy. He patched up the wounds on the back of my neck and that day, we reconciled our friendship.

There were times where i wanted to confess to him but didn't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state. Then, that day came where i finally mustered up the courage to finally confess to him, at first he thought i was kidding but once he realize i wasn't, he became nervous. But he did gave the relationship a chance, and we began dating.

But i could never shake the feeling that i was just a replacement, a second choice for the woman he really loved.

"Sanemi! Nemi! Wait!" I yelled running after him.

"What's your place to interfere with me and my brothers problem huh?" He stopped walking and turned around to look at me, a dissapointed look on his face was visible.

"Im sorry, i though– i though it would help.."

"Help with what?!"

"I..i don't know. When you told me about that story about your mother i–" a shaky breath escapes my lips.

"I know how to handle my own brother, and you're out of it." His tone as cold as ice.

"I thought that maybe it will help you move on.."

He stepped towards me, one of his eye brows upwards with a confused look on his face. "Move on from what?"

"From every thing thats keeping you from moving on."

"Why? What do you even know about how i feel? Do you know all the things i had to go to?" His eyes shifted. "Of course not."

"So stop acting like you know my pain, and stop acting like you own it!" His voice raised on the last sentence. "And you can't just say to me when i can move on."

I stood there, in silence. My glossy orbs looking at him.

"Even Kanae who is with me in everything, who knows everything, didn't interfere with my decisions."

That was my last straw.

"Im not Kanae, so stop comparing me to her!"

"You're right, you're not Kanae, and you will never be Kanae." He pointed his finger at me. I looked at him in the eye a tear sliding down my cheeks.

"Kanae is dead. She's not coming back Nemi, but until now you're still acting as if she is here."

"Because she is! She's here!" He pointed at his chest where his heart is.

"If she's there then where am i?.. " my voice quiet but shaky. "Forget it." I walked passed him heading to the door that leads out of his estate. My hand made its way to my mouth to stop myself from crying even louder, the other slid the door open.

I wanted him to chase after me, to tell me we will be okay. But he never did.

How foolish of me to even think that you will. I wonder, if i were to be her will you chase after me?

[distracted-milkshake]

Like ‘Em Weird - Steven Grant x reader

Warnings: bri’ish reader, non explicit sex, snogging tf out of Steven, general embarrassment, slight jerk Marc

Words: 4k

Rating: M

Summary: A fast moving relationship halts abruptly when the cute guy you met at a cafe wakes up a completely different person.

or

How you helped Steven figure out his body has multiple tenets, and that he doesn’t mind sharing it it’s you

I haven’t actually finished Moon Knight, so any inconsistencies or straight up false stuff is on me. Other guy isn’t here because I haven’t met him yet

Whipping up 1-5k oneshots while I can't get even ten in on my wip is such a me thing it's not even laughable anymore

Also! I have read a lot about DID and talked with friends who have it, and the portrayal of the reader does not represent kind or correct treatment of people with such issues at all, just wanted to be clear that I as the author know that and this isn’t any sort of handbook

AO3 link

“You gonna talk to me or just keep staring?” 

Steven blinks, immediately feeling his hands and cheeks go hot. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring–!” He quiets as you stand and drag your metal chair the few feet across the cafe patio to his table, plopping into it. 

“Hi.” He murmurs, eyes dropping to his lap as he wrings his hands. 

”Hey,” You reach your hand over the table, flashing a smile, introducing yourself. 

“Steven Grant.” He shakes it, adjusting in his seat.

“No worries, by the way. I never know how to start a conversation either.” 

“I am so sorry, really, I hadn’t noticed. I uh, I don’t do that, I swear, I was just sort of spaced out.” He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, running a hand through his hair to get it off his face. “I don’t usually see a lot of pretty girls around, not ones that I find pretty– well, I mean there’re plenty of pretty girls, just not as– you just…” he swallows, wishing he could sink far enough into his chair to disappear from the face of the Earth. 

“God I wish I could start over.” He says. 

“This conversation, or since you started staring?” 

“My life at this point.”

“Take as long as you need.” You grin. 

“My name’s Steven, I work in a gift shop.” 

“At the museum?” 

“Yeah,” he nods, sitting up straighter. 

“I knew it, I’ve seen you before! I love that place.” 

“Ah! Me too! It’s ahm, probably about my favorite place in the world.” 

He goes off about something having to do with history, half of which you don’t quite follow, but you listen anyway. 

He tells you about several different exhibits from the museum he works at, stuff that isn’t on the little plaques, going on tangents here and there about the origins of popular misconceptions. 

“…and that’s just off the top of my head; numerous examples of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee, suddenly seeming to realize something. 

“Shit. Im sorry, I’ve been talking entirely too much. You want to tell me about you?” 

“No, it’s cool, I get it.” You laugh. “You read a lot.” 

“Oh loads, anything that interests me, I love books.” 

“Music's my thing.” You say. 

“Oh, do you play?” 

“Nah, I collect. CDs mostly, vinyl sometimes.” You finish your drink, setting your cup aside. 

“I’d love to get into it, but I should be going. Do you wanna get dinner sometime?” You ask. 

“Yeah,” he nods and you pull out your phone, handing it to him to put his number in.

“I’m vegan, but anywhere you like is fine though. Saturday work?” He says. 

“Saturday’s brilliant.” You click your phone closed when he turns it back to you, tucking it back in your pocket. 

“Brilliant.” 

“I’ll call you with the place. See ya then.” 

“See ya.” 

Saturday rolls around, and you get off the bus to a lovely little Indian place with a bounce in your step. 

You had double checked they had plenty of vegan options, spending the last few days trying and failing not to text Steven every half hour. 

“Sorry! I got put on inventory again.” Steven huffs as he bounds up to you, making you feel a little silly as he’s all dressed up. 

“You’re right on time actually. I just came early.” 

“Oh, thank goodness.” He says, exhaling heavily and straightening his back. 

He holds up a bouquet. “Um, these are for you.” 

“Oh my God.” You smile, taking them from him, turning them over. 

“I hate flowers, but that has got to be about the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Sorry, I’ll uh, I’ll remember that.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about, I appreciate it. Shall we?” You gesture to the restaurant door. 

“Oh– Of course,” Steven sidesteps to hold open the door for you, and you both head in. 

Seated with your food on the way, you look your date up and down expectantly, to which he sets his drink down and explains. 

“I am keeping my mouth sealed unless spoken to. Even if it means I’m staring.” He jokes at the end with a smirk. 

“Sure you’re going to be able to stick to that?” You tease, taking a long sip from your mango lassi. 

“Sure am. Talk to me.” 

So you do. 

You tell him all about where your from, your favorite band, the kinds of movies and shows you like, and he chimes in with his own, careful not to dominate the conversation with his preferred topics, which as much as you love the sound of his voice, you’re grateful for. 

“You know there’s something special about you maybe.” He says when you’re about finished with your meal. “I feel like I just click with you. Is that weird?” 

“No, it’s not weird.” You shake your head, meeting his eyes. “That’s not weird at all.” 

You walk with him down the street, hands in your pockets from the slight chill, but keeping close enough your arms are almost touching. 

It’s quiet, and it’s a comfortable quiet, but you can’t help but feel nagged at by a lack of something. 

You come to an intersection, and Steven turns to you. 

“Well, thank you, for going out with me.” You take him in, framed in the streetlight, messy hair and nice clothes, pretty eyes catching the light. 

“I hope you have a great rest of your night–” 

You push him against the brick wall of the building closest and catch his lips in a kiss, startling him as his hands hover over your shoulders, then your arms, before finding your back and waist, pulling you close. 

He kisses back confidently at first, then out of sync, then trying to pull away, saying something muffled. 

“Good?” You break the kiss to ask, wetting your lips. 

“Yeah. S’prised me’s all.” He says, breathing heavy. “I just wanted to say I think you’re gorgeous.” 

You pull him back into it with almost feverish urgency, pushing your tongue past his lips and to the roof of his mouth where you find his and press and move against it roughly, hand finding the back of his head to tilt just enough to have the perfect angle to explore. 

You recede to let him breathe and Steven catches a dribble of spit with the back of his hand, looking mortified as he having no where else wipes in on his coat. 

You bite your tongue to keep from laughing, wiping his bottom lip with your thumb. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sorry that’s gross, I dunno if I’ve ever been kissed like that, I’ve no idea how,” he wipes his lips again. “It’s not like movies. Very, very wet.” 

“You talk a lot for someone who stares.” 

“In the restaurant. Out here I’ve dropped it now. You know I don’t know if I want to be remembered as that guy in your head.” 

“Something else, then?” 

“I’m cool with gift shop guy.” He says as you give him lighter pecks on the mouth. 

“Much better than spaced out Steven.” You giggle, tracing his cheekbone around back to his ear and down his beck, letting your thumb slip under his collar as you press your forehead against his. 

“Yeah well, I find it hard to get a good night’s sleep.” 

“I’d like to get a good one with you.” 

“Hmnn?” His eyes flit to your lips and then back up to yours, bewildered. 

“Oh, oh you mean!” He pulls back and gives an enthusiastic nod, a wide smile on his face.

“Hells yeah.” 

“I like your apartment,” Steven says under his breath between dizzying kisses in your entryway, watching you alternate between his throat and kissing him with utter fascination, unsure how to keep up or what to do with just how expertly you’re making him fall apart. 

“You haven’t seen it yet.” 

You pull him by the wrist through your living space, past the couch to your bedroom, where you shut the door and shuck off his jacket. 

“Do you have a condom?” He asks before you can devour any attempts he has at talking again with your mouth. 

“Yeah, one sec.” You dig around in your nightstand drawer, pulling one out and turning back to give Steven a gentle shove onto the bed, climbing atop him and undoing his buttons with your free hand. 

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Steven says when you finish with his top and strip off your own, tearing the condom open and sitting back on your haunches. “This is unbelievable.” 

You grab him by the chin, making his heart skip a beat. “Let’s aim for unforgettable.” You say. 

Steven lays on his back, hands on his chest, having finally caught his breath. 

“That was lovely.” He says. 

“Lovely?” You repeat, stretching your spine, side eying him. 

He turns on his elbow you look at you. “Lovely. Amazing. Mind blowing. All of the above.” 

“Been awhile?” You chuckle, tracing his collarbone to his shoulder before hooking your arm over it. 

“You have no idea.” As lost in your eyes he is, he pulls away to check the time, sitting up. 

“I um, I should get back to my apartment,” he moves to get off the bed, and you sit up after him, catching his wrist. “Hey wait. Don’t be ridiculous, stay.”

“No, I uh…” Steven stops himself, not wanting to mess this up. If he told you he had some weird sleep condition, that he literally bolted himself to his bed to sleep every night for fear of missing hours or waking up places he didn’t recognize, he was certain that was the kind of thing that would scare you off. 

That look you're giving him, that half lidded, cocksure smile, still topless and not even trying to cover it, it’s convincing enough on its own. 

“That’d be just fine. Yeah. Yeah okay.” He relaxes back into the bed and you lean up and kiss him. 

“Great.” You murmur, pulling him in and tugging the covers back over you. 

Maybe just one night would be fine. 

Marc wakes up in an unfamiliar room, with an unfamiliar woman in bed next to him.

You stir, burrowing your face into the pillows before you feel the bed spring back, blinking your eyes open and pulling yourself up just enough to see him retrieving his clothes from the floor. 

“Hey, no rush, it’s Sunday, come ‘ere.” 

“I’m sorry, you seem nice and all, but I was not supposed to wake up here.” 

“What happened to your accent?” You laugh humorlessly, brow knitting. 

“Accent? Jesus, I don’t have time for this, I’ve got to be in Madripoor in like two hours, that idiot was supposed to be back at his apartment.” 

He gathers up the rest his things as he mutters to himself. “Yeah yeah I know, I can get to the justice after I get back to his apartment and sort things out there. I swear if this is what gets him… yes. Of course I’m grateful. I will handle it.” 

“Hey, wait!” You pull a t-shirt and pajama pants on, following him into your living room, but by then he’s already got his shoes on. 

He opens and struts right out your front door without another word, slamming it behind him. 

Monday afternoon you take your lunch break to head down to he museum, stomping right up and into the corner gift shop, where sure enough, Steven sits twiddling a pen while he reads. 

He sets aside both when you walk in, smile falling when he sees your face. 

You plant your palms and lean directly over the counter, huffing. 

“Hey, you know I really can’t believe I fell for your shy soft boy act, you pull that on everyone? Or was I just ‘special’ enough to catch your attention?” 

“What? I– what are you talking about– hey!” He jumps up from his seat as you push back from the counter, folding your arms. 

“I mean what on Earth is wrong with you!” You stare him down as he rounds his station to speak with you. 

“Hey, whatever I said, I’m sorry? I don’t– I didn’t mean it– will you please tell me what you are talking about?” 

“You jerk. Can you go one minute without lying? Rhetorical, because you obviously can, if it’s convenient to getting in my pants. God! I can’t believe I slept with you.” 

“You slept with me?!” He exclaims, hunching over as a couple passerbys give him looks, making you roll your eyes. “Holy shit, I thought I dreamt that.” He says mostly to himself, tugging at the hair behind his ear. 

You look at him, jittery, wrinkled clothes, chewing at his thumbnail. 

“Are you high?” You ask, tilting your head to get a better look at his face, trying to make out if it’s a bruise or just bags under his eyes. 

He quickly shakes his head. “No, no-no-no, I-I don’t do pills or anything. I mean, maybe I should, to be honest– but I’ve never done drugs of any kind.” 

You throw up your hands. “Why would I believe you after yesterday!” 

“Yesterday? Why– What happened yesterday.” 

“Unbelievable. You know, you aren’t worth this. Don’t text me anymore.” You turn to the door, but his whirls around you in a panic, blocking you. 

“Wait! Wait, please. Look I don’t know what happened the other night, but I assure you that's not me, I’m not like that, I would never say stuff like that, I’d never use you, I like you! I really like you, and I don’t want to never see you again.” 

You study his expression, torn between how completely devoid of any sort of dishonesty it looks, paired with how desperate his tone is, and just who you remember walking out of your apartment. 

“You’re acting completely different now.” You shake your head, hanging it and letting out a long sigh before looking back up at him, which you immediately regret because he has the saddest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. “I have to get to work. If you think you can explain to me just what the hell is going on with you, meet me at the park at six thirty, I’ll… I’ll hear you out.” 

“Thank you,” he folds his hands, needing to shout after you as you make to leave. “I won’t let you down, I promise!”

You give a dismissive wave as you head out museum's front doors. 

“…and that’s all I know, I swear.” You’re seated on a bench in the park. By now the sun has set, and the lights are the only illumination with a cloudy night sky. 

“I believe you.” You sigh, letting the leg you’d been sitting on down from the bench to stretch. “How often does this happen?” 

“Most nights. Been trying not to sleep because of it.” 

You shake your head. “Why the hell haven’t you gone to a doctor?” 

“Because I can sort it, it’s fine. You go to a doctor if you're sick, I’m not sick.” He fiddles with his hands, realizing your looking at them he smoothes them down his pants and keeps them on his knees. 

“Sleepwalking isn’t sick. It-it’s just like, stress, or something.” Even saying it aloud he didn’t believe it, but what was the alternative? That he was legitimately mad? 

“Steven, look at me. You need to get help for this. That's mental. It’s not normal. Tell me you’ll get help.” 

“I’ll look into it.” He scratches at his neck.

You frown. “And mean it. You need help.” 

“I mean it, I will get help.” He nods when you put a hand over his, pulling him into a side hug. 

“Thank God.” You murmur. 

Two months later, you and Steven are kind of dating. 

Though your relationship had taken a big step back, you still texted and called him frequently. You didn’t feel like you could bring yourself to getting any closer, not when you still didn’t know who you had woken up in bed with. 

Today he’s over for tea, on your couch with his hands folded, helping himself to the biscuits you put out. 

You come back from putting the water on, stuffing a couple cookies in your mouth before he can eat them all. 

“Oh! I erm, I got you a copy of that new CD from that band you like.” Steven digs around in his bag, pulling out a still wrapped album, handing it to you. 

“Holy cow.” You scoff as you take it. 

It was the newest release from your favorite band, and had been sold out everywhere for more than two weeks. 

“I can’t believe you remembered. I’m putting this on right now.” You pop on the stereo, slow rock jams filling the apartment as the water boils and you bring the pot to the table, filling Steven’s cup. 

“So how are you doing?” You ask. 

“Oh, mostly good. I still haven’t figured him, Marc, out much, but I am sleeping better.” 

“You figure out just what ‘he’ is yet.” 

“No, still no diagnosis. I’m having trouble finding a therapist I like. I also, you know, not keen on institutionalization.” 

“Right. Well I mean so long as he doesn’t decide to go on some break.” You grimace, wondering what the hell he could’ve had been up to in Madripoor of all places, if he’d even been serious. 

“Beg your pardon?” 

“Never mind.” You give your hand a wave. “I still can’t believe I’m how you found out.” 

“Hey now hang on, I knew, I just didn’t know why.” He stands up to be at your height, annoyed. 

“Or how, or what.” You give him a look. 

“Yeah. But I did know.” He shrugs. “Even though he was trying to keep it from me.” 

“Well yeah, probably because you’re the nice one. Marc is a prick.” 

“The hell did she just say about me!?” Marc growls, catching his eye in his reflection in your tea kettle. 

Steven blinks. “He didn’t like that.” 

You draw your brow, frowning. “He can hear me?” 

“Apparently? I don’t get most of it myself, I didn’t think he could hear me till like last week.” 

You push off the back of the couch. “Tell him to come out here and talk to me right now.” 

“Uh, right, sure, yeah. Marc, you heard her.” He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

When he opens them again, you slap him across the face. 

He cups his cheek, turning to look at you. “Still Steven!” 

“Shit– I’m sorry!” You cover your mouth. 

“You were going to smack him? But that’s me!” 

“I thought– I didn’t think it through, really. Is he not there?” 

“I can’t really make him come out, he just kind of does it if I let him.” 

“I’m sorry I hit you.” You say. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “He totally deserves it. Prick is right on the money.” 

“Even so, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Already better.” He smiles. “Though a kiss wouldn’t hurt…” 

You raise a brow and smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

You hang out a while longer before heads home, leaving you to think. 

“I want to date her too.” 

“What?” Steven looks up at his mirror from across the room. “You won’t tell me where you’ve been pissing years of my life away, what you’ve been doing, but now you want to meddle with the one good thing that’s happened to me, after you nearly screwed it all up? That’s rich.” 

“I didn’t want much of anything to do with her until I saw the way she slapped you, I mean, that was unexpected.”

“She’s for sure, isn’t she? All the more reason you will not be seeing her unless she asks.” 

“Let me talk to her or I’ll break up with her.” 

“We’re not together…ish. I don’t know, it’s not the simplest.” 

“I’ll ghost her. Delete her contacts. You know I will.” 

“Alright! Okay, fine. Jesus.” 

He picks up his phone. “Don’t you negotiate in anything but threats?” He starts to dial your number, then stops. 

“Hang on… you’re jealous, aren’t you?” 

“I’m sorry?” 

“You're jealous I’ve a girlfriend and you don’t. And she doesn’t talk nicely about you.” 

“I’d stop talking now.” 

“Holy shit, that’s hilarious. You act like you think my life is boring, but you envy it.” 

Marc glares at him, jaw working. 

“I’ll tell you what, I will set you up, but you have to tell me what you’ve been doing, and where you've been taking me.” 

“Khonshu’s not gonna like that.” 

“Again with bloody Khonshu. You’re flipping bending over backwards for that fool. Figure it out, cause that’s that.” 

“Fine.” 

“Perfect. Done deal.” 

He hits dial. “Hey so uh, Marc wants to meet you. Properly. I’ve told him he needs to apologize.” Marc rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. “Right. Yeah. Can you meet me?” 

“This… Marc the Merc, the pissy one?” You say, looking him over. You’d met Steven not far from the museum, and held his hand while he relaxed and let Marc take over. 

“Yes, it’s me again. Hi.” You meet his eyes, feeling oddly bothered by just how the same they look. It’s Steven, but it’s not. 

It’s painfully not him, and yet you can’t put into words how. 

“Hey,” you say, not sure what else you’re supposed to. 

“Let’s get this part out of the way: I’m sorry I walked out on you. It’s Steven’s fault we were there at all, and I had shit to attend to, but I was less than curt about it.” 

“Accepted, if that’s the best I’m going to get.” You nod, and he gestures for you to walk with him, so you do. 

“I haven’t been keeping tabs. What’s he been telling you about me?” He says. 

“Not a lot. I mean, he barely knows you, and neither do I.” 

“There’s not a lot to tell. He’s not supposed to be tangled with my life, but, since he is, I figure we might as well share.” 

You stop, and he does too. 

“What?” He says. “I’m willing to be more open if you are.” 

“What are you talking about? Are you saying you want to get with me?” 

“Would you like to?” 

He looks you right in the eyes, catching you off guard. Before you can answer he cups your face and kisses you, arm around your lower back, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

You pull away, eyes wide, breath ragged, trying to get your brain to catch up with your body, realizing you're right in the street where everyone can see you. 

“Too much?” He asks. 

“No,” you shake your head. “Just– just surprised me.” It’s quiet for a moment. 

“His apartment’s not far,” he finally says. “If you wanna see just how much of a prick I am.” 

You stare up at your boyfriend’s apartment ceiling, wondering what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. 

You turn when you hear footsteps coming back to the bed. 

“Hi,” he gives you a little wave, holding out a cup of tea. 

You sit up on your elbows, slowly taking it. “Steven?” You say tentatively. 

“Yep, it’s me.” You stand up, throwing back half the cup and setting it aside, swallowing. “Everything go okay?” He asks.

You nearly knock him over in a hug, burying your face into his shoulder. 

“Better than okay,” you say, smiling against his bare skin. 

“Really? Oh, Gods, that's a relief.” He wraps his arm around you, pressing his nose to the top of your head. 

“Marc was different than I thought.” 

“Now we’re even, he said he’d cooperate with me some more, so I think it all works out?” 

“I love you. Both of you.” 

“Really? It’s not too weird?” 

“Hey,” you press a kiss to the bridge of his nose. “I like ‘em weird.” 

Even though you had next to no idea what was to come, between you, Steven, and Marc, you were confident you would figure it out.

[rxzennia]

rare critters

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 a healthy dose of curiosity (ft. dr ratio) yall if i have to write another report i think i might kms sorry im 3 days late lol i was busy making concept art 

when dr ratio somehow acquired a few rare critters from herta space station, he thought of one person:

aventurine.

if he’s so bad at looking after himself, maybe he could take care of something else instead. and these cat cakes are pretty tame and adorable… seems just right for him.

ratio sent a text to let aventurine know he’s coming to drop off some souvenirs

said souvenirs being these critters

ratio has one on top of his head and two in one arm as he rings the bell

it’s sometime in the afternoon, and you’re not around

(you’re attending a meeting on aventurine’s behalf so he can have a longer lunch break)

(you do that pretty often, actually. that’s why your boss can have entire afternoons or evenings to himself)

nothing would’ve prepared ratio for what he sees when aventurine opens the door

one, no, two? no, three?? faceless serpents slithering around his feet

and one really huge one around his neck???

their maws, aeons, their maws. as stunned as ratio is, he’s also scared shitless

they remind him of a certain aeon and he isn’t sure if he liked the implications

though, that aeon has long since disappeared…

the very moment the serpents sniffed something in the air, they’re all right up in ratio’s face

the trash cakes are definitely scared shitless

they’re quivering and whimpering

ratio is trying so hard to hide his unease

“since when did you have pets, gambler?”

“oh, they’re my assistant’s – don’t bite, please.”

and these dangerous, dangerous noodles listened???

they backed off obediently while still scenting the air again and again

at least they’re not one hair away from ratio anymore?

wait, more importantly…

“you’re living with your assistant?” ratio can’t help but ask. “and… they brought their pets over?”

technically, the slithery creatures around the house aren’t your pets, they’re literally parts of you, but does aventurine want to get into the details? not particularly.

“doctor, it’d be heartless of me to tell them to leave their pets,” aventurine chuckled, “it’s a long story. are these…?”

“i thought pets would do you some good. seems like your assistant has the same idea.” ratio passes the three cakes over to him. “here – from the space station.”

aventurine tells the especially thick leviathan on his neck to get off so he could hold the trash cakes

more like patting its body a few times until it got the signal and slid off of him

the cakes like him!

once he’s passed the sniff test, the cakes are all over him

they do remind him of someone, with those yellow eyes and grey… trash can(?) like body…

he holds them carefully, because unlike your creatures, he needs to hold onto these little guys

else they’d fall

invites ratio in while he’s at it, and he sits down to properly examine them

ratio watches aventurine for a moment, until your serpents catch his attention

oh, he’s so unnerved by them, but also…

he’s so curious! his scholarly senses are telling him to seize the opportunity!

are they really the same creatures as the ones depicted in the scriptures for oroboros?

how did aventurine get his hands on them? or rather, how did you get your hands on them?

and why are they so, so… docile, if they are really what he thinks they are?

what have you done!? how did you get them to be your pets?

his academic interest in you might have just skyrocketed

he engages in a staring contest with a creature with no eyes

somehow, somehow he just knows it’s a staring contest

he’s debating between approaching or not

they look like they would snap his neck before he could even react

“don’t try it, doctor,” aventurine warns, reading ratio’s actions from a mile away, “they’ll probably bite.”

“huh…” ratio makes a sound of pure wonder as he stands still, staring at the few noodles slithering over each other and scenting the air around him. “how did you tame them, then?”

“i didn’t.” aventurine shrugs as he plays with the new critters in his arms. “just sit tight, my assistant should be back soon.”

does that mean you’re the one deciding who gets to touch your serpents and who doesn't???

meanwhile aventurine has taken to the cakes from the space station

they’re so delicate and adorable, with their huge eyes and how stretchy they are

such a contrast to your huge serpents

your serpents are curious about them too, it seems

they keep trying to slither up aventurine’s legs

he has to keep pushing them down, all the while their maws opened and closed

trying to get a feel for the taste of these critters

not trying to outright eat them, just trying to get a taste

ratio is itching to just… grab one of your noodles

he can’t

how devastating

just then, the door opens with a click

“i’m home, aven.” you enter and practically throws your shoes off. 

the sudden need to retain some semblance of formality in your home feels foreign to you now, but you’ve sensed someone else’s presence. it can’t be helped, even if the name aven feels odd on your tongue.

weird, aventurine usually runs out the moment he hears you

when you made your way to the living room, you see him and… some random guy?

said random guy looks like he’s into greek mythology?

is he like zeus or something

no, more like male athena or something

“oh, welcome back!” aventurine perks up as he lifts one of the cakes and shows it to you like a proud parent. “look at these little guys!”

your eyes never quite look away from the stranger, but you also dazedly take the critter into your arms. “this is…”

you immediately catch ratio’s eye – the way you carry yourself, the way the ends of your scarf seem to move on their own, and the way the few serpents find their way up your neck without so much as trying to touch the cake in your hands (even though they’ve been trying to taste it when it was in aventurine’s arms).

“veritas ratio.” he stands up before aventurine could introduce him and offers you a handshake. “you might know me as dr ratio of the intelligentsia guild.”

you stare at him without much of a reaction

his hand stays outstretched as he watches you expectantly

after a few seconds, you give his hand a firm shake and introduce yourself

you do know him, actually, you’ve read a few of his works

you quite liked his takes on philosophy and natural theology

he’s very insightful for a mortal

“can i help you?” you ask, because you don’t think ratio would bother talking to you if he hadn't been curious about something.

“your pets are most fascinating,” he gets straight to the point, “may i examine them?”

???

your pets?

the serpents? 

you look to aventurine, who just turns away like he didn’t tell ratio those are your pets

you pinch the bridge of your nose and exhales exasperatedly

then again, perhaps calling them your pets is the best course of action right now

because the other option is spilling the beans about yourself

yeah

so… nice save, aventurine

you set down the critter in your arms on a nearby table and turn to face the doctor

“here.” you pick up one of your leviathans and guide it over to ratio. “they might do… things around you, but they won’t hurt you.”

ratio tries not to flinch when the heavy leviathan slither up his arm and coil around his neck loosely, but he winces and backs away slightly anyway. “how are you so certain?” he watches the creature with so much wonder as it scents him, then lifts its head so he can stare at it properly. or the other way around; so it can stare at him properly. who knows.

a healthy dose of cynicism is always good

it’s not like you don’t understand where he’s coming from

you shrug, because you really have no better answer without outing yourself

“i have them trained.” you say, but at this point you’re just pulling shit out of your ass

aventurine immediately covers his mouth to hide a snort

you shoot him a quick glare

you run a hand along its smooth body to show ratio that yes, he can touch them

its maw opens a little wider and drools a little onto the carpet

ratio carefully puts his hand on top of its head

it turns its head on contact and nudges against his hand

trying to scent the thing touching it (aka ratio’s hand)

but it doesn’t do anything other than what appears to be purely harmless scenting

could this possibly be the subject of his next paper?

“don’t think about it, doctor.” you cut him off the moment you see the telltale glint of academic interest in his eyes. 

“i must disagree; they are of leviathan descent, are they not?” ratio asks, now caressing the big noodle with both hands and handling it with less hesitation than before, “this is of utmost significance; they might shed some light on the mystery of oroboros the voracity.”

you narrow your eyes at ratio

he doesn’t even try to prod around the subject, he just hits you in the face with it

as expected of such an erudite scholar, but still

(aventurine is watching the interaction with much interest while he plays with the cats)

(it’s like he’s enjoying the show)

(the remaining free serpents of yours has coiled up by his feet and fallen asleep)

(since they’ve realized aventurine doesn’t want them near the cakes)

you don’t want to bring too much attention to yourself, or your serpents

you don’t want things about oroboros to spread, either

in fact, you’re quite thankful to the enigmata and the ipc for heavily censoring them 

“with all due respect, i refuse.” you do not allow any room for disagreement. “you are prepared to uncover the truth. is the rest of the cosmos ready?”

that’s not all of your argument, but the one you determine would be enough to keep ratio from conducting and publishing research about leviathans for now. oh, right – you’re not against ratio’s curiosity. you simply don’t want that curiosity to spread far and wide.

ratio frowns, not expecting such a swift rejection from you, but you do have a point. he’s a little blinded by his excitement.

your rejection sounds a little personal, if aventurine may say so himself

to ratio, it is very much just you being overprotective of your pets

as all pet owners do

to be fair, it’s hard to say. ratio is a sharp man

you stare at him, and he stares at you

the leviathan hanging on his neck tilts its head in confusion

if ratio is anything, he’s persistent

especially when it comes to knowledge

he opens his mouth to try to convince you again

you beat him to it and raise a hand to stop him from talking. “you can examine them for as long as you do not make publications.”

ratio is taken aback, his brows furrowing as you give him permission for further interaction with these descendants of ancient leviathans. this is your first meeting, so why –

in fact, aventurine is wondering the same thing

like, why are you getting along with the doctor so well when you’ve only met today

he’s not jealous or anything, he just has a huge question mark on your reactions

you’re usually very, very guarded against people who ask questions

especially about your scarf

but then ratio did see your serpents slithering around

perhaps you see no way of weaselling your way out of this?

anyway

if we’re being honest, ratio also has a huge question mark on your reactions

“i am a fan of your philosophical works,” you say, guiding your serpent back around you, “hence i am willing to satisfy your curiosity… provided you agree to my terms. think of it as an invitation.”

ratio takes a moment to mull over your words. to think that someone under the ipc has read multiple of his works, and has enjoyed them… is that why you are willing to compromise? but, well… you give him a feeling of a learned person. perhaps he will enjoy debating you.

“very well, that is good enough.” he nods, even if he still feels just a little bit disappointed, he’s anticipating a good back-and-forth with you already. “in that case…”

“i will let you know when i am free.” you sit down next to aventurine and let the critters on his lap crawl over to you and knead your thigh with their little paws. “and, doctor?”

it’s apparent to you that ratio has the same thought as you did when you decided to let your serpents drop their disguises at home. you glance towards aventurine next to you, then back at the doctor.

“thanks for the critters.”

[merowkittie]

request: “Ні!!

Im not sure if your taking requests for writing, but if you are I was wondering if you could do a Wolverine and Deadpool x S/O who is very strong but doesn't look it?

If that makes sense...

Like the S/O is very sweet and shorter than them. But she is a total powerhouse! She can easily lift extremely heavy things, or can punch really hard.

Like even harder or stronger than the them!”

@klerns-birdie

thank you for your request! since i did write something similar to this before, i tried to switch it up as best as i can, sorry it’s a bit short =]!

warnings: none / not proofread =,]

wade testing your strength:

“holy shit, peanut! that actually hurt!” wade whined and held his bicep, looking at the blossoming bruise forming, only for it to disappear in a minute.

huffing, you rolled your eyes and kissed your teeth.

prior to you punching your boyfriend in his huge biceps, he was continuously bothering you. literally riling you up because in his words,

“it just turns me on whenever you or logan are angry.”

which prompted a glare from said man, and a scoff from you since you were pretty well tempered and only got angry on missions really. so he kept poking at your arms, tickling your neck, play fighting your legs, and when he LICKED your cheek, all mercy went out of the window.

so you reeled your arm and in a flash brought it down into his arm. logan applauded you for it, saying a gruff, “atta girl.”

usually, you’d let wade or logan do whatever! you truly didn’t mind, it’s just sometimes the constant nagging (as much as you love him) gets a bit too much!

“what happened to my sweetheart??” wade asked, putting your hair that’s fallen in your face behind your ear.

“still here.. just stop bothering me so much. we can cuddle if that’s what you want?” you looked up at him, and he swore he could’ve died at that moment.

you looked so sincere and adorable with huge eyes looking up at him, and a hand tugging on his shirt.

he folded instantly into your side, mumbling a little sorry even though he didn’t really mean it.

logan also testing your strength:

unfortunately this wasn’t your fault! compared to these two hunks, you’re tiny. so of course you’re going to struggle to sleep at night with wades heavy leg and arm strewn across you.

but what really tied the knot here was the fact that logan slowly started to lay on top of you. logan, who’s skeleton was made out of metal. metal that was HEAVY.

so as soon as half of him fell on top of you, squirming as quietly and gently as you could, you tried to squeeze out of that position.

and honestly, it was working until logan threw his own arm over you to secure you in the spot you found yourself in.

both men were knocked out in dreamland, where you wanted to be but couldn’t because of the weight on top of you. at the point, you wouldn’t be surprised if you died due to lack of airflow or something!

calling for help wasn’t even a liable option because blind al would be sleeping by now since it’s damn near 1AM, wade is knocked out drooling on your neck, and logan… he sleeps like someone’s grandfather!

there was one last option, but you didn’t think you were that strong for it..

as best as you could, you turned a bit in logan’s grasp and began to pick him up as much as you could to put him to the side. you literally didn’t understand how a person could be THAT heavy. but given the fact he is basically made of adamantium that obviously explains it.

but jesus… cuddles with him just end up deadly!

after a huff and one more push, logan was off of you and you silently cheered and clapped your hands together in praise. he groaned on the side, as much as he is a heavy sleeper, he always knows when you or wade are trying to slip out of bed or move around which disrupts his sleep and causes him to wake up and glare very very menacingly at you.

"bub?" he grunted as he turned back to you, squinting in the dark.

a sheepish smile made it's way to your face and you mouthed a sorry at him. "you kind of heavy y'know.."

he just rolled his eyes at you, and wrapped an arm around your waist, cuddling up to you like a cat.

with a sigh you just thanked whoever above for your mutation because as much as it's hot to suffocate under a sexy man, no.

the end is a bit abrupt.. sorryz!! hope you enjoyed <3

[idekkkjja]

Eyes on you,, ۫ ꣑ৎ (G!P) Giselle x f!reader

── .✦ everywhere, hidden in your shadows; Giselle is there. With precise use of her unlimited knowledge of you, she knew your schedule by heart. Better than you did. Every subtle detail was taken down to the basics: your favourite colour, your favourite show, your socials, and such. To extremes as knowing what panties you’re wearing on a Monday evening. The only thing you ponder is why there are gorgeous bouquets on your doorstep every Friday night at midnight.

Although you appreciated the effort of your unknown admirer, you had to bin them after taking a picture for your story, there was no purpose for them lying around. Little did you know it was from your sick bestfriend Giselle who ‘curiously’ after mere seconds of your story posted, bombards you with questions about who this weirdo is packaging you these.

Heads up: As usual, English isn’t my first language, so I apologise for any mistakes. Giselle is a bit sick in the head here. She’s too obsessed w u,  toxic stuff, like gaslighting and manipulation. She stalks, and you have a boyfriend so mentions of cheating here, unprotective sex and umm this is so short im so sorry. By the way, this is my first g!p smut EVER AND IM NOT FAMILAIR W THIS SO ITS SHIT 💔. I’m still not that used to writing smut yall.

—

The grand clock strikes noisily announcing to its invisible audience that the day has ended, you shuffle amongst the comfortable waves of blankets laid upon you, completely limp underneath and content.

Noises from the TV faded in the background, and the main characters became irrelevant as the realisation sank in. Your eyes draw themselves to the neverending buzzing notifications vibrating from your phone, the reasons temptingly displaying themselves on the bright screen. You should have put it on dnd.

Stretching your muscles lazily by extending your arms to the air, you let out a groan before plopping straight back to the couch, eyeing the phone mere centimetres from you. Bold numbers light up the screen, advising it is finally 12:00 am. Well, specifically 12:03 am by now but who cares? Certainly, you don't.

12:00 am, the flowers must have arrived by now. It has been accustomed for you to constantly peer through the windows to note down the features barely shown from the person's black clothing, the bagginess, unfortunately, hiding the silhouette under. Most would have been reporting it, being a panicking mess and causing a huge chaotic search for this stalker who apparently knows their address but you... you felt pleased with these rather expensive and rare bunch of flowers arriving at your doorstep, simply your ego-inflating from the sincere anonymous affection.

Though, sometimes, you did crave to know this mysterious person's identity. Do they know you? Definitely. Do you know them? There is a chance, small or big, still a chance. Unwilling to voluntarily escape the bounds of your blankets, you got up slowly, leaving the dim living room unbothered to close the lights off and climbed up the stairs to one of the bedrooms with the window showcased to the front of the house.

Peeking out of the window, your barely half-lidded eyes wander around the area before finally settling on your desired sight, this admirer (or stalker which is better fitting) carefully placing new and different vibrant flowers on your doorstep with shaky hands. By now, it roughly nearing 12:10 am, this time they're quite late, aren't they? Unusual, and their hands are freed from the thick gloves they wear. Could they reveal themselves as your boyfriend? That was your first guess after all.

But the more you analyse the hands in your vision until the figure disappears into the darkness, the more you commit them to memory. The hands appeared too feminine to be his rugged ones, but you never let them lay a finger on you anyway. Shifting back your focus on the mental task ahead, you did notice the nails, which seemed quite long paired with slender fingers. The nails had nail polish on them, and the light pink was cleanly painted.

Is this possibly a girl? Someone you knew so well? From everything you have, just details of the hands, it was clear it wasn’t a feminine boy.

Turning around sharply, you ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time ignoring the risks accompanying you. At the door, you opened it, the cold chill blowing in your face as you yanked the flowers off the mat.

Your fingers instinctively tighten around it, letting the paper wrapped around it crumple. You go back inside to the comforting warmth as you close the door gently, grabbing the forgotten phone left on the sofa.

It seems you're receiving notifications left and right. Some are from your aggravating boyfriend. He’s too clingy. You do consider dumping him on nights like this. One is from Giselle. It's just a TikTok video saying a cute pair of cats suit you two perfectly. So typical. Leaving her on seen, your gaze rests on the bouquet, with a sweet aroma invading your senses.

Click. First, you post it immediately on your Instagram story, letting your curious acquaintances call them to pamper your DMs with questions.

Seconds pass by, and surprisingly, no response from your dear bestfriend. You started to grow worried, annoyed perhaps, she was online right before you posted. Nearly on all occurrences, she texts you, not you reaching out to her unless it is necessary. For once, you pushed your dignity (ego) off your gnawed mind, deciding to message her eagerly.

You: FaceTime?

Long, stressful minutes pass by, and a response dinged; making your uncomfortable waiting period worth its while.

Gigi: give me a moment

A moment? You have already waited long enough, your patience worn. Impatiently, you drummed your agitated fingers against your thigh, staring at the screen. Nearly throughout your so-perfect life, you got anything you wanted in a snap of a finger, including Giselle.

Five agonising minutes it took to see a familiar picture of her displayed on her profile picture for months now,ever once a blue moon she changes it. But everytime it’s up close on your phone, it manages to always annoyingly spread some kind of uncomfortable warmth along your chest. Despite your constant nagging on having matching profile pictures, since you got influenced by eager others. Sometimes, she reluctantly accepted.

“Hello?” Watching the girl set herself up to be in the view of the camera; subconsciously, as if an immediate response, a smile tugged on your lips from getting to see her. She did look exhausted: a mess by the looks of it.

Ragged pants barely getting by, messy strands falling upon her forehead, and her flushed cheeks. What occurred before this call that caused her to be in this state?

“What happened to you? Did you do some kind of… workout?” You teased, arching an eyebrow to thicken the implication of your words that made her more redder as it is.

“No, no… of course not. You know I’m not like that.” Denying the subtle accusation laced in your tone, she shook her head, covering her cheek in growing embarrassment.

And that’s where you noticed. Her hands matched your earlier description almost perfectly, on point. Slim, slender and pale fingers with light pink nail polish. This cannot be true, for months on end, this constant admirer or stalkers you’ve discreetly noticed hiding in your shadows was Giselle.

Your very own bestfriend, who knew every single detail about you to the point that in some depths, you didn’t even know yourself. This new comprehension you've developed had to be concealed for now, though.

Pausing in your words, you pressed your lips tightly together to form a line.

“Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know you. You’re unpredictable.” You said, not letting any of your inner turmoil leak through your softly spoken words.

“Unpredictable?” She echoed, visibly confused as her eyebrows knitted together to form a small frown, sensing the conversation contrasting to what she anticipated. On a common evening, nearly every day but preferably on Fridays; your phone calls with her consisted of gossiping about the latest drama at school, talking nasty and atrocious hearsay about almost everybody disguising it as an 'honest opinion', and what else? Giselle again convinced you to break up with your chopped boyfriend.

Despite your whiny protests against her 'very valid' points about all his flaws, you did agree with them.

Did it make it right for her to trash talk your boyfriend’s every single movement? No.

“You are,” you insisted softly, not wanting it to seem confrontational, yet despite you still processing this secret of hers that altered your view on her permanently.

“How?”

Unpredictable as in stalking you, putting on a facade the whole time you complain about the stalker, knowing that it’s her.

Was it hard to contain your impulsive mouth? Yes. But surprisingly, pressing your lips into a thin line helped it from spilling out any unprovoked insults against her that would spoil your plan.

“You’ll know soon.”

—

Every Fridays you anticipate for than you fail to admit, keening over your barely opened windows noticing how everything clicked into piece bringing a hint of peace to your conflicting confusion you had.

In your hidden notes, when you were sprawled on the bed, you scribbled down messily on a ripped piece of paper.

‘Red Flags - Giselle Uchinaga.’

- Gets jealous easily, too easily over anybody.

- Fake sometimes?

- Hear some shuffling in my bedroom whenever I leave her alone there.

- There isn’t much trust here.

- I have missing clothes whenever she sleeps around sometimes, including my expensive underwear!

- Whenever I interact with other hot dudes before my annoying boyfriend, she’ll treat me like some slut on the streets.

- Too pretty especially whenever angry.

- Has too much to pay back.

- Hypocrite.

- Has too many social media accounts yet never tells me about them… :(.

- Fuc

As you wrote, your running thoughts manifesting onto the thin, wrinkled paper, you heard a small thud from downstairs making you pause for a moment in your writing.

Did you forget to lock your doors again?

Cautiously without making too much noise to alert the intruder, you peek from upstairs and clutch on the stair railing, seeing a familiar shadow.

It is a Friday.

A feminine silhouette.

Giselle.

“Isn’t this too far?” Sharply you remarked, almost to yourself and the hooded figure froze in their footsteps, obviously caught snooping around in where they aren’t supposed to be.

Mentally, you knew you had the upper hand now, so you acted like you knew all this long where you knew for only a week.

Dramatically making an entrance, you went downstairs and sauntered towards the woman: unfazed by this despite the context.

Your bestfriend has been stalking you and now sneaked in your own home, why aren’t you freaking out?!

“Giselle,” reaching out, you grabbed one of the hoodie strings impulsively and yanked her forward having an impulse, frightened yelp escape her exaggeratedly stretched lips due to shock.

Absolutely humiliated, the girl froze, stiffening in your grip and stood there; preparing herself internally to either be thrown into prison or even worse—losing your friendship.

Slowly, you realised the difference now; you had so much advantage of Giselle. You could do whatever you want with her.

“You know if you miss me that much, you could text me, you know that? I do appreciate the flowers though, you know my favourite ones.” Those preciously sweet Lillies wrapped in a paper bouquet, and a small note tucked amidst the petals that you never read.

She was much better than your silly boyfriend, he doesn’t even know there’s different types of flowers except roses.

“I-I’m so sorry, this is so messed up—“ a finger pressed against her lips to mute the repetitive apologies coming out of her mouth like a broken record, you preferred to silence her with a kiss instead.

Leaning forward, your breaths mingled with one another, and you drew your finger back. “Shut up,” you murmured, acting upon your desire, and pressed your lips against hers causing a muffled, pretty sound between you two before falling to the floor.

A high-pitched gasp panted through her ragged breathing, her chest heaving up and down mesmerizingly so, your eyes glued on every bit of her anxious body language. As if she was a cornered small animal from a predator.

Stiffly, her aching hardness pressed needily against your core when you settled against her; your clothed sexes nearing dangerously.

Even by this small contact, Giselle felt like she would cum apart immediately.

“F-fuck,” Giselle breathed out, desperately trying to control her impulsive urges to… maybe prove that she could be much a better fuck than your loser boyfriend dreamed of doing.

Her arms encircled your waist, gripping it so tightly that it engraved ruby-red handprints on the sides of your lower bare torso, roughly turning you over and switching the roles swiftly from her greedy need to brag and show through her jerky movements. Trembling fingers lowered down to the rim of your shorts, her puppy eyes looked up at you, a silent plead for you to give in.

To give in what you craved.

“Fine, my dumb stalker…” you eventually huffed, having the resistant facade still displayed over to protect the controversial fact that your heart was about to jump out of your ribcage this very moment.

“Thank you, thank you,” the girl babbled, her voice muffled as she pampered messy kisses all over your neck, leaving a shiny lipgloss with a smudged shape of her plump lips.

With a sudden change of mind, she effortlessly turns you over so she can see your pretty face in no time shift to a lustful haze. Stripping down your precious hidden parts, her cold fingers out of ‘natural’ instincts, massaged your dripping heat to prepare you.

Just in case, you’re not used to big dicks.

Revealing herself to you hastily—her boxers hanging down—she didn’t let you absorb the view of her cock springing up, the precum glistening down the pastel pink tip, and how she had specific prominent veins on the side.

Painfully slowly, she drags her cock in you, to feel the moment she anticipated for so long and savor it. Not noticing a pained hiss barely making out your clenched teeth at how her almond, sharp nails dug in a little too hard.

You didn’t complain though.

“A-ah, f-fuck, fuck…” Giselle sputters, inhaling sharply to calm herself down.

Letting herself get used to the warm and tight sensation, she moaned lowly with you, now plunging in and out and settled to a familiar rhythm comfortable for both of you.

“Just like that mhh… oh, oh, God— Ah!” Clawing her back creating temporary red designs, drawing out pores of blood, you threw your head back and a choked gasp tored out of your throat.

“Am I better..? A-ah— Am I better than your boyfriend’s small dick?” Giselle managed to blurt a full sentence, a little epitome of her jealousy of that bastard for months and months on end. Knowing you were never satisfied with him.

“Mh… mh… yes, yes, yes…” Being fucked too silly, you unknowingly submitted to her, reassuring her the truth that she was indeed much, much better.

Sweat clung onto the girl’s messy bangs, some of the strands blurring her vision while she rammed in and out of you more desperately, hitting new deep spots you never even thought of having as she chased her impeding satisfying release.

Wet and sloppy slaps of skin echoed throughout the hallway, thankfully, the windows of your front door were covered.

Although, right now, being caught was the least of your worries; your mind fogged with her dick and her dick only.

Warm ropes of semen coated your insides and a silent scream was out of your gaping mouth, drool trickling down the corner of your lips as you moaned incoherent babbling. Eventually, it leaked out of your well-fucked pussy, reaching your shimmering inner thighs decorated by your wetness now mixed with her cum.

Post-orgasm, the deafening silence except for the panting talked for the two of you instead.

“Please, please, y/n… can't you… break up with your boyfriend?” Giselle hoarse out, her head resting on your neck when she admires you lazily with huge, adoring eyes.

Those that your dummy boyfriend never gave you.

“Sure.” Nonetheless, you dryly agreed. You were going to consider the option sooner or later anyway.

And the hallway, the intro of your huge home reeked heavily of sex and sweat. Not a good first impression for those who can come over tomorrow or the next day, you sighed in utter defeat: not wanting the snug feeling of her cock still lounging in you to be ripped away from you.

“Love you.” Giselle dreamily mumbled, her arms draped all over you in an almost possessive manner.

“Whatever.” You huffed in response, and the small conversation said more than enough about the dynamic.

[deansapplepie]

You couldn’t lose each other

Summary: You were pregnant, then you weren’t.

Warnings: ANGST, pregnancy, miscarriage, mention of character death, mention of “putting someone down”, soft Merle, on purpose asshole Daryl, blood, hurt, mental instability, hurt, stubborn main characters, loss, grief, and maybe more. 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

A/N: I never experienced miscarriage and am writing everything based on my knowledge through series, movies, soap operas and books, so it may have inaccuracies. If you are sensible to any of those topics please don’t read, your mental health is more important!

It had started about a week ago, heavy dizziness and morning sickness (which didn’t happen exactly only in the morning). On top of that your period was late, which you tried to atribute to the sub nutrition all of you went through while on the road, but as soon as other symptoms started… you knew it was probably other thing.

You went on a run with Daryl to get more baby formula for Jude and just discreetly added a pregnancy test on your backpack, in a part you hoped Daryl wouldn’t look because he never did. As soon as you got to the prison and had some alone time you risked yourself going somewhere, no one would see you or find you, to pee on the damn thing and find the truth. The truth was… you knew it, you didn’t need a test, you were undoubtedly and very much pregnant.

One end of afternoon, Merle sat by your side and didn’t bother to tip toe around you. “When are ya gonna tell ‘im?”

“What?” He took you back with his question.

“When are ya telling my brother ya’re with his baby?” Your eyes widened at his question. “Daryl ain’t the only one with observation skills. Who ya think taught him everything? I saw the symptoms and the pregnancy test you hid on your pocket the other day.”

“Fuck you Dixons.”

“Ya already do it to one of us.” He sassy replied, you rolled your eyes as usually happened during your banters.

“Soon. I’m just waiting the whole governor thing end. He already has too much to worry about, he’ll freak out if I tell him now. He’ll probably put me on bubble of safety and not let me do anything.” You stated, Daryl could have the rough exterior but both of you knew how he was, how he cared about people. Also he had changed so much the last months, and it was for the better. “Don’t tell him, let me do it.”

“Al’ight.” He surprised you, you had learned how to deal with Merle, but he wasn’t the same asshole as before. Still an asshole though. “It’ll be good have a mini Dixon around. I’ll help to keep ya’ll safe.”

“I know, you can be a jerk sometimes but I know you care about your family.” You gave the older Dixon a small smile and squeezed his hand to reassure him. That had been one of the nicest things he ever told you and coming from Merle, that was a lot.

The governor had asked for Michonne to leave your group alone, you didn’t believe a word of it it, but Merle did or at least he had to try. That morning he disappeared with her and all of you knew what he was up to. Daryl went after them, you wanted to go too but of course he wouldn’t “allow” you.

Some time after, Michonne arrived, alone. You asked about Merle and Daryl, and she told everything that happened with Merle. He had set her free and went by himself. It wouldn’t end up well, you could feel it in your guts, and your feeling just confirmed to be true when Daryl arrived alone.

Everyone gathered around him to know what happened and he told you with teary eyes. The others left to give both of you some time.

“Daryl, I’m sorry.” You said, both of your hands cupping his face, he averted your eyes. “Hey, look at me.”

“Leave me alone…” he grumply answered trying to get out of your grasp.

“We’re together in this, huh? I’m here for you, we both cared about Merle.” He snorted.

“Ya cared about Merle? Ya never liked him!”

That wasn’t true, he knew it wasn’t. He was hurt, he had to put his brother down, there wasn’t anyone else that could do it for him, even if there was… it had to be him. Somehow, in his abused mind, he thought it was all his fault. Merle died because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted to protect his little brother as much as he could in this fucked up world, and that was the way he found to do it. It was just a matter of time for you to do the same and it would be entirely his fault if you ended like Merle. You were the last thing he had from the old world. You were the only good thing he had, and if he had to push you away to keep you alive, that was what he was going to do, because he couldn’t afford living in a world without you.

“This isn’t true, Daryl. You’re hurting, I get it…” he cut your speaking before you could finish.

“Ya don’t. Ya never will!” He distanced himself when you tried to touch his arm. “We should break up.”

“What?!”

“Ya heard it.” He confirmed.

“Ok, when you’re not speaking no sense we can talk, I know you’re not ok, but there’s a limit of shit I can take.” You wouldn’t continue to insist on it if he was going to continue acting like that. You knew he was suffering, but so were you and he was being a prick.

“There ain’t gonna be another talk. I said what I said.” Those words left his mouth as if they were nothing, but each of them felt like a knife in his throat.

“Is it really the moment for you to dump me?” You knew he was emotionally unstable, no one make good decisions like this.

“Did I stutter?” The moment he threw the harsh words, he knew he had got what he wanted, the hurt in your eyes pained in his chest and this time he was sure he had lost you for good.

Since that day, you didn’t talk to him and he also ignored you. You asked Rick to not put you both working together anymore. You moved your things to Carol’s cell, now also your cell. Woodbury had fallen, now the survivors of the town had joined you at the prison.

Your little secret was still yours, or sort of… Carol was a mother. She went through all the shit you were going through, all of you saw Lori going through it. She knew it already, but didn’t tell you anything until one week after everything that happened.

She asked you, “aren’t you telling him?”

This time you didn’t even got surprised and already knew what she was talking about. “No.”

“And when it starts to show?”

“I’ll tell I just fucked someone and was too drunk to remember.” You stubbornly replied.

“You’re being childish, he deserves to know.” She was right, but you were tired and emotionally damaged already.

“ ‘cause he’s being a fucking kid too. I get it, he’s suffering, but he needs to stop hurting people every time he’s hurt. It’s time he grows up and man up.” You said arms crossed.

“You know his past better than I, I thought you from all the people would understand.” The older woman wisely said.

“Carol, I appreciate your concern, he’s your friend too, but you don’t understand.” You said, was it you? Was it the hormones? You couldn’t know. “Please, don’t tell him. It’s not your place to do it.”

“I won’t. You’re the one that should do it.” As soon as she answered, she left you alone.

One week later, or a little more, it seemed like Rick had forgotten his promise that he wouldn’t put you ti work with Daryl as he put both of you on fence duty to kill the walkers. Ok, there were more people with you, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself being watched and you knew the weight of his stare. You could feel it in your soul. Also, you couldn’t help yourself and from time to time look at him, because you would be a liar if you said you didn’t love him anymore or that you didn’t find him handsome and attractive, and what’s beautiful was made to look at.

It was middle of the morning, even though it was starting to get cold the sun was strong for whoever was working under it. You had sweat and few stains of blood from the walkers you had killed through the fence. You were feeling extra tired, you thought it was because pregnant women got more sleepy, so you didn’t think about it so much.

Some minutes after you felt a sharp pain on your lower stomach. Weird. ‘Please let it just be a stomachache or gases’, you thought.

You continued working then you felt the pain in the same place but sharper. ‘Please, don’t let it be anything with my baby’, you thought again.

You kept doing your job, this time more slowly as you felt the pain irradiating through your body, until you felt a stabbing pain in the same place and something hot going down your legs. You looked down and saw blood. “NO!”

You shouted and that called people’s attention Daryl’s specially. He looked at you and all he could see was blood. Did you hurt yourself with the weapon? Did the governor came back and wounded you? Did somehow a walker managed to bite you?

“Nooo-hooo-ooo.” You shouted cried throwing yourself to the ground.

In seconds he was kneeling by your side. “Hey, hey, look at me. What is it? What happened, doll?”

“I lost it.” You said, crying more at your realization. “I lost it.”

“What did ya lose, babe?” He asked, he thought you were delirious due to the blood loss. His hands around your face trying to make you look at him, trying to ground you. He was panicking, where were you hurt? Was he going to loose you anyway and he had spent the last weeks loosing his time with you?

You cried. “Our baby, I lost our baby.” You said between sobs.

It hit him like a punch on his stomach. You said your baby, a baby from both of you, a baby he didn’t know existed, a baby that… his abused mind played with him again. A baby that could be possibly gone because of him. “Stay with me, love. I’m taking care of you.” Who were you? Just you? You and the baby? Was there any chance this was a weird bleeding but the baby would still be ok? He didn’t know. He knew nothing about it.

He didn’t think twice, he took you in his arms and started running. “HERSHEL!” He yelled the doctor’s name again and again, until he found him and had you in the infirmary.

Before getting to the infirmary you had passed out, maybe it was the shock or it could also be the blood loss, you’d never know.

Hershel examined you. Daryl stayed all the time by your side, making questions to the doctor. Teary eyes while he explained everything. You were indeed pregnant, and yes, you had lost the baby. Daryl’s hopes were shattered at pieces, he cried. He the big rough man that didn’t like to show his emotions cried, it was Hershel. He was a friend. He was family after all.

After making sure nothing had stayed in your uterus, the old man had a talk with the younger one. Hershel made sure Daryl knew it wasn’t his fault, at this point he already knew the archer well and knew he was guilting himself for it. He ensured it was something that could happen at this early stage, you were at the maximum 2 months pregnant according to the tissue your body expelled from you. That small tissue was what would be your baby. The feeding poor in nutrients could have harmed your body, it was pretty much a disorder in your uterus so that happened. There was no one to blame, besides the end of the world.

Some time had passed when you woke up, you were as much as clean as they could got you and you had warm feeling on your right hand. You looked to your side and you saw Daryl worried and guilty eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” You said. You remembered everything.

“Maybe.” He said, even if Hershel had already reassured him. “But it doesn’t make it less worse. I could have lived it with ya for the little time we had.”

“I was the one that didn’t tell you.” You turned to your side and extended your left arm till you were touching his face. “I’m sorry.”

“I AM sorry.” He said giving emphasis to that. “I… I dun know what I was thinking.”

“I know.” You knew he was lost at that moment, but it didn’t hurt you less when he pushed you away and both of you needed each other. “Merle wasn’t your fault. The baby neither.”

At the mention of Merle’s name and the baby, your voice quivered and the tears threatened to leave your eyes, and they did. They fell from your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. “I ain’t pushing ya away anymore. I… I was so afraid of losing ya too.” Tears also slipped on his face.

“Merle was happy, he knew he was going to be an uncle.” You remembered the conversation you had with him the day before he sacrificed himself. “He noticed it and asked me about it. I was going to tell you when the governor shit was over.”

You also felt guilty about Merle’s death. You knew sometimes he didn’t take some smart decisions, but did he tried to face it all alone because he also wanted to be a better person to his nephew or niece? He had told you he would protect all of you.

You sobbed. You both cried together, now your arms thrown around his neck and your face hiding in it. You both had lost too much already, you couldn’t afford losing anything else. You couldn’t lose each other.

Wanna be added to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series) Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325 @hayley1998 @shadowcitrine @vaniniweenie @cupidelocke

[tanobatcher]

heyyyy!! looking for a hurt/comfort + angst + soft!Hunter fic where the f!reader starts to notice how overstimulated he gets sometimes. how he winces at loud noises, flinches under bright lights, or rubs his temples when he gets overstimulated. she gently asks about it one day, but he brushes it off like it’s nothing. but later she finds him alone in his quarters, trying to quietly ride out a brutal headache caused by sensory overload. this time, she doesn’t ask any questions. she just helps him. maybe she dims the lights, speaks softly, massages his scalp, sits beside him in silence. something intimate but comforting like that. would love if he eventually lets his guard down, maybe whispers something like “you don’t have to do this,” and she responds, “you don’t have to deal with it alone.” just all the soft, quiet vulnerability stuff. thank you <3

waves

hunter x fem reader

summary: basically what the request says lolz sorry writing summaries is actually my worst nightmare so i will take advantage of the detailed-ness (??) above <33

warnings: none

a/n: i decided to make this more pabu civilian brainrot because post tbb finale life is all i think about tbh. also sorry for the delay on this, im wrapping up finals season 🥲

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚

You haven’t seen Hunter in a while. A little over one day, to be exact, but that feels like a long time when his presence is usually so noticeable across this tightly acquainted island. It’s unfair to say that he and his brothers stick out like sore thumbs in any crowd, and yet, it’s also true. There must be a different reason why your eyes always search for his specifically, though, lighting up when you’re successful. For this same reason, a pestering observation has caught your attention during moments he believes go largely unnoticed or ignored.

He’s oddly sensitive, not just to the weather but also to sounds that often fall into background noise for you and anyone else. He doesn’t like being in the sun for too long, only holding out for Omega when she spends her afternoons at the beach. “Did you sleep well?” You frequently ask him whenever he’s near enough for a conversation. And to this, he often shrugs before answering, “Better than what we’re used to.”

“It’s quiet here,” you would say back, thinking that makes this place the easiest in the galaxy, “Is it quiet for you, too?”

But again, it’s only quieter than what he’s used to. He doesn’t bother explaining that it’s almost too quiet, for he can hear skittering footsteps and the brush of wind against walls much better than the average person. He doesn’t bother telling you that he’s far from normal in that way, simply dealing with the noise as he always does. His discomfort extends beyond little irritations that he’s lived with his entire life, though. Sometimes, you find yourself craning your neck to look for him when he disappears like he needs a break from…everything. The last time you followed to ask if he was okay was the last time you tried to talk to him.

And now, according to “intel” you extracted from word of mouth, he’s holed up in his room on an exceptionally bright and hot summer day. There’s no response when you knock on his door, but you know he’s inside. The silence is worrisome, just like his sporadic absences, so you gently twist the knob while saying, “Hunter? It’s me.”

The room isn’t dark enough for you to miss the shape of his figure lying on the floor with his arm draped over his face. You’re unsure if he’s aware that you’re even here, standing under the dim light as all your questions about why he’s not outside like everyone else drain away. These curiosities are only replaced with more concern. He’s so still and calm, but he looks like he’s in pain. You frown, not knowing what to say, so you don’t say anything at all. Kneeling before him, you reach forward to touch his cheek, stopping when he catches your wrist in his other hand.

His eyes are still closed, and his voice is hoarse when he tells you, “Leave. Please.”

You ignore the way your stomach hollows out at this, wiggling yourself free from his grip to touch the back of your hand to his forehead. His temperature isn’t particularly alarming. Touching him might have been a mistake, though, because you can’t bring yourself to pull away anymore. You’re hesitant as you sit on the floor with him, gently pulling his head into your lap before swiping some of his messy hair out of his face. His eyebrows twitch in reaction, but he doesn’t fight you off like you expected. He lets you run your fingers through his hair, silent other than the sigh he exhales when you begin rubbing circles along his temples.

Some sunshine casting across the floor draws your attention away from his face to his window. The curtains are slightly strewn apart, letting this sliver of light paint a long line through the hardwood. You’re about to get up to close it more tightly when he notices your hands have slowed down and whispers, “Don’t stop.”

You relax your posture again, shifting him even closer as you whisper back, “I just want to close the window.”

He opens his eyes and looks up at you. “It’s fine.”

His stare makes you squirm, so you turn away from him a bit and sweep your gaze across his room. It’s emptier than you thought, with most of his belongings packed away in boxes and left to your imagination. Perhaps he still isn’t fully settled in yet. Your thoughts are startled when his fingers brush against your jaw, lingering until you glance at him in surprise. He meets your eyes with a certain heaviness behind his own before closing them, sinking into your touch despite his instinct to push you away before. It doesn’t seem like he’s fully processed this moment, maybe treating it like a dream as he simply breathes at the pace of your touch. Slow and patient, waiting for nothing in particular except for more.

“What happened?” You ask quietly, “Why are you down here?”

“Just dizzy.”

“You didn’t fall over, did you?” You slip your hands into his hair again, feeling for any signs of collision.

“No,” he nearly smiles, “But that feels good.”

Your cheeks warm, and the room is silent once again from your lack of response. You’re unsure how to carry this conversation forward until you look at him again and decide you don’t need to. He appears to be more at peace than just a few moments ago, as the lines across his face loosen like the rest of him. You feel that you can watch him this closely forever. Minutes pass into the double digits from the time you lose track of until you notice that his breathing is now a little quieter and shallower. Maybe he’s close to falling asleep, so you try to figure that out for yourself without disturbing him. Leaning downward, your heart seizes in your chest when your mouth positions itself to be hovering over his. He looks even prettier up close, where you can see the dark coloring of his tattoo absorbed into his tan skin. There are some creased indentations here and there, too, and you imagine him laughing loudly with his family—people he might have less trouble opening up to, at least. You’d like to be one of those people, one day.

Your next decision surprises even you as you press your lips to his forehead so lightly that you don’t think he feels it. Not until you pull back a bit and find his eyes open, heavy-lidded but still staring at you. Your faces are still close as you murmur, “Let’s get you back in bed.”

He doesn’t protest as you sit him up slowly. You pause before guiding him toward his bed, realizing that he’s far from weightless. Still, you manage, and he rolls onto his side with a slight groan. You assume he’s not watching you cross the room to close his curtains, but his eyes follow your movements despite pulling against his fatigue. They’re sealed shut when you return to his bedside, sitting at the edge of the mattress while wondering if you’re taking up too much space already. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you trail a gentle caress down the side of his face and look at him closely.

“Does this happen often?” You murmur.

He adjusts his position so that he’s lying on his back now, which forces your hand to fall toward his chest. Blowing out a breath, he answers, “More or less.”

A frown tugs at your lips at this. “How do you deal with it?”

“I just wait it out. It comes and goes.”

“I see.”

Pressing his head back into his pillow, he sighs and says, “I’m fine now. You don’t have to stick around.”

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you reply.

He opens his mouth to respond, wincing sharply instead of saying whatever he had in mind. Startled, you shift forward and cup his face with both hands, swiping your thumbs back and forth to soothe him out of whatever is bothering him at the moment. He’s breathing a little heavier now, staring at you as he calms the rise and fall of his chest. You don’t say anything as you lean over him and begin rubbing his temples again, occasionally stroking his hair since he seems to like that. The silence must feel better for him, too, since he finds the energy to rasp, “You don’t have to do this.”

You steal a touch to the tip of his nose while reassuring him, “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

He closes his eyes and releases a halfhearted chuckle. “It’s nice outside.”

“It’s nice in here, too. I…like what you’ve done with the place.”

“You can skip the flattery,” he mutters under his breath.

“No,” you stifle your laugh, “No, I mean it. Truly.”

“Uh-huh.”

You let him have the last word, smiling to yourself as the lines on his face relax more and more from the passing time. Any twitches of discomfort don’t slip under your radar, to which you respond with a soft whisper that reminds him you’re here. At one point, you find yourself curled up beside him while brushing your hand across his cheek and skimming the wilder parts of his hair. There’s enough space between your bodies for you to know he’s probably not planning on touching you in return—maybe he isn’t even thinking about it. Or so you believe when you pause, believing he’s sound asleep and safe from his pain. Just when you’re about to retreat, he reaches quickly and laces your fingers together before placing your joined hands in front of his lips. You feel the ghost of a kiss against your knuckles, but it spreads flaming goosebumps through your skin as if it’s something more.

You think you’re quiet enough when your breath hitches, but he hears and opens his eyes. He sees you so clearly despite the hazy darkness. Your vision hasn’t fully adjusted to capture the dark pupils staring right at you, seemingly telling you something you’re not sure you understand beyond this moment. Nonetheless, you feel his observation—his desire to keep you close. And he feels you, skin to skin, with only your palms and pulses. He feels your heartbeat quicken and leap, somehow controlling what he doesn’t know he has full access to. He feels your body like it's his own, vaguely hearing the ocean below pulling and crashing in the distance. In waves that collide before subsiding, like the way he imagines you. So near, and yet so far from the distance he tries to create himself. You would cross any island to prove him wrong, though. And you’d stay right there with him.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Illumina and child figure Reader

they never specified so i’m assuming they want child reader sorry if i assumed wrong let me know if i did and ill do a new one!

to keep my theme i don’t put anything before the characters name so this is more accurately father figure illumina but oh well

sorry for my semi hiatus i haven’t had much motivation but im writing to get my mind off of the election and ive got brownies cooling on the counter, we also have a new puppy dm me for pics because she is the cutest thing oh my gods

- Sneaking into Illumina’s temple to steal food from his offerings takes some guts, or you were incredibly stupid, it could be either honestly, seeing as you were a kid probably both honestly

- When Illumina sensed someone not only stealing from his temple but one of his offerings he showed up immediately, pissed if not a little impressed someone had the nerve, then he saw you, a small, very thin, shaking little kid holding a single loaf of bread, normally he’d smite you without a second chance but something stopped him, maybe it was that your horn looked very slightly like his, maybe jealousy of some of his siblings, or maybe he was just tired, but he stopped and didn’t smite you

- He asked what you were doing, stealing from his temple, you said you were starving, you needed something to eat, and the only place nearby was his temple, you were so sorry, he made an odd sound before sighing and saying he’d get you some proper food, something that wasn’t an offering to him, realizing it was an offering you panicked and he said it was whatever, bringing you to his worshippers to make you food

- They were all a bit confused but they did so obediently and you had the best soup you’ve ever had, as you ate he asked you questions about yourself, your name, age, etc, finally he eventually said you could stay in his temple, he’d have his worshippers make sure you were bathed and fed, you were extremely thankful if not a bit confused

- His demeanor remained cold and stern but he did seem a bit more soft towards you, after he left you were given your own room and taken care of, when you saw him next you immediately ran up and gave him a hug, barely even making it up to his waist, seeing you in his follower’s robes, and the way they were too large for you, sparked something unfamiliar in him, a parental instinct

- He was unfamiliar with the feeling, but he’d heard some of his siblings describe it before, and he realized he wanted to protect you, not just have you be cared for by his worshippers, but he wanted to take care do you, so suddenly you were in his home, sort of, you think it’s his home but it looked… weird*

- Illumina isn’t the most expressive or talkative guy but you knew he does care about you, making sure you’re always properly fed and clean, if you ask for something he doesn’t respond but a few hours later you find that thing in or near your room, you always give him a hug when you do, slowly as time went on he’d touch you back during the hugs, a pat on the head, ruffling your hair, and after awhile he’d bend down to your level so he could hug you back properly

- He has some weird bird brain instincts on occasion which is why sometimes you end up sleeping in a big pile of blankets and pillows curled up next to him, he makes cooing sounds contently and you fall asleep not a worry on your mind, safe and warm, though him trying to feed you is something you do not like, at least it isn’t proper baby bird style just spoon feeding instead

- His siblings don’t know about you, okay that’s not entirely true, Ghostwalker has seen you before but doesn’t know the full extent of his brothers care towards you, but besides for him the others have no idea he adopted a mortal, let alone who he met because they stole from him

- Sometimes he disappears for days at a time, if he knows that that’s going to happen he leaves you in the care of his followers, when they first took care of you it was begrudgingly but now that you’re basically his child they treat you with a lot more care and gentleness, you also were given special robes by him so that when they do have to take care of you they know who you are immediately, that is if they don’t see your eyes immediately

- If Illumina blesses or gifts one of his worshippers their eyes go fully white like his, in your case they went a light purple instead, but same principle applies, your pupils disappeared and anyone who looks at your face can tell at the very least you have his blessings, if not that you’re more special then a normal follower who’s received his gift

- Soup is still your favorite food, it reminds you of the day you met him, even if he never admits it knowing that soup is your favorite food and when he sees you eat it it makes something warm spring up in his chest

- He’s not much of a talker, but he enjoys listening to you ramble on about anything and everything, even if not that coherent it’s pure and childish, maybe what you did that day, the story behind a drawing you made, the story you’re currently acting out with your toys, which speaking of are sick, he had almost never interacted which children before you so he basically got you everything, going form a homeless street child to owning basically every toy in existence was a pretty sweet thing

- After a few months he teaches you how to preen him, you’re not amazing at it but you have plenty of time to learn, and your small hands make it so you can be a lot more careful, after you preen him though he immediately starts brushing your hair and straightening your clothes, it’s his way of preening you back, since you don’t have wings (yet) of your own so taking care of your hair and cleaning you up slightly is the closest he can get

- On very rare occasion he returns home with injuries, usually from fights gone too far with Darkheart, or maybe once or twice Venomshank, either way you watch from his doorway as he bandages himself up hissing in pain as he cleans and dresses his wounds, after he finishes you come in with a stuffed animal handing it to him and gently crawl into his lap, it relaxes him and you fall asleep in his nest with him that night, every stuffed animal you give him during those times ends up in his nest, he treasures them, in his own way, when he’s a very stoic guy it’s not obvious but you’ve learned to read him, he also lets himself show more emotion around you, since you are just a child who can’t understand him that well normally

- When you first saw him appear that day in his temple, you thought for sure your life was over, but instead you gained a father, and even if you never said it, you were eternally grateful for all of it, falling asleep curled up next to a deity who was almost twice your height was never your plan, but you were happy it happened

i am stressing over this election but i’m tired now, imma go to bed, ALSO

i made a friend in this community and they offered to help with this blog, idk if it will happen but on occasion they may do a request for me ill say if they do it’s not a guarantee but just letting you all know there’s a chance i might get some help on these here and there

* according to soda illumina kind of has a house ‘it’s weird’ what that means is unclear

[militaryapple]

I'LL LOVE YOU FOREVER.

synopsis. you go out to forget about your dead best friend, though its hard to forget when you miss him so much.

cw. mentions of death, reader has auditory and visual hallucinations, grief, sad like genuinely disheartening, angst. pure angst.

add ons. ok so what i was sad im allowed to take it out on caleb probably first fic out of a series idk anyways smut coming soon

wc. 3.1k

parties. you had a love and hate relationship with them. you loved them because of how free you felt. how reckless you could be without anyone telling you that its dangerous to drink so much with a low tolerance, or how you shouldn't wear such a revealing outfit knowing your job. fuck, you were.. free.

but that was the worst part about it.

you were free. you didn't have anyone holding you down. being your anchor. you didn't have anyone making sure if where you were going was safe, even going as far as to go with you. it was fine, you were used to this routine by now. you partied to deal with stress, problems, grief, him.

it was just the thought of him that haunted you. you knew that partying didn't change how you felt, how it couldn't make anything disappear. it did distract you though, even if it was just for a bit. it wasn't your first rodeo either. it was those tiny moments where you thought of him.

thought of caleb.

how when you get ready, you wondered if he would tell you that you looked pretty in the dress you wore. how he looked at how snug it fit you, or how caleb would clench his fist, telling you that you shouldn't go. how much of a bad idea it was. sometimes you imagine, what if he saw you? in the bar or club. how he would look at you with his eyes softening the moment he found you in the crowd of people.

time would move slower, his once worried expression now calming into a relieved one. how he looked at you like you were the world. his world. you imagine how he would squeeze his way through people, with murmurs of "excuse me" and "I need to get by, sorry". just to reach you. to hold you. to know that you were okay. the sight of his hands lingering over you, not quite touching you but enough to feel that he would be shaking, how he would cup your face and lean down. heads together while you could feel the steadying of his breath.

"you're okay."

it was one of the few sentences you could remember from him. the words echoing in your head so clearly it was like he had just said it. it was one of the many things that calmed you down. the only thing you thanked your brain for remembering that had actually made you feel soothed. it was just to help you calm down if you were having a panic attack, or if you were overwhelmed. how his voice and a couple of slow breaths made the fast-turning world suddenly slow down.

oh how you missed caleb.

this is why you needed to leave the house.

your therapist advises against you doing this. how dangerous it is for you to constantly go out whenever your mind was in a state of distress, but you've never gotten hurt. so it didn't matter right? it was the only thing that cleared your mind of him. that made you remember that you're still young, free. so what if you didn't have an anchor? someone helping you? you were a big fucking girl. you have a job, friends a life. he's been dead for a year. you need to get fucking over it.

and god did it hurt your heart to think that.

you can't be angry at a dead man. yet you somehow managed to be. why you were angry at him? you don't even know. maybe it was because when you last saw him, you didn't know it was going to be the last time you saw him. maybe it was because it was the only day you both were free, and how you missed seeing his face and eating his cooking after so long. maybe it was because you missed the dumb promises he made when he was younger, still managing to keep long after your adolescence. or maybe it was because of the argument you both had, before he was gone. right before your very eyes.

oh god. you really needed to leave the house, it was becoming a pity party. you grabbed your purse, and put on your pumps. walking to the door and grabbing your keys. "here we go" you sighed to yourself, opening the door and shutting it after walking out. once you locked your door you made your way to the elevator and down you went.

checking your phone, you looked for tara's location. it was one of the few weeks you two were able to meet up, and its not because it was caleb and gran's death anniversaries so you were told to take a week off because captain couldn't have her best hunter overworking herself again. seeing how tara was nearby, you shuffled to one side of the sidewalk. tara pulled to the side, stopping her car while you got inside in the passanger seat.

"I'm telling you," tara voiced "maybe your therapist is right, we shouldn't be going out on a day like this, no matter how much I would LOVE to be out dancing it doesn't seem right - and as your best friend.." tara trailed off, looking over at you. you trembled, hands clutched together. she couldn't help but sigh. "fine. lets just get some flowers to lay at their graves first at least. so you won't feel guilty about not going tomorrow." she said softly. her gazing shifting back to the road.

tara pulled over at a nearby flower shop. she got out, and you followed her actions. you went in saying "hello" to the shop-keeper. her face soft. she must've known you were here for a loved one. she didn't know, she couldn't know. your stomach bubbled. how would she know about him? did she know you were there? your heart ached. why did she look at you so pitifully? what if you were there for just flowers? what if you wanted to give them to someone alive, breathing? your hands clenched and your face started to boil.

"hey, are you okay?" for a moment you paused, feeling the sensation of someone resting their hands on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. was it? could it be? whipping your head around. caleb? was that really him? it sounded just like him. your illusion soon shattered with your view focusing on tara. ah, just another one of your imaginations. you sighed, nodding your head.

"you're okay." you silently reminded yourself, taking a deep breath. you looked at the flowers tara held up. smiling in approval, tara paid for them and you both started to return to the car. you couldn't help but look back at the woman behind the desk. she felt.. off. nonetheless you shook it off, it was just "grieving emotions" or whatever your therapist called it. she doesn't know you. she doesn't know caleb.

tara soon made another stop, your heart beating faster with each movement you pushed yourself to do. it's routine, you have to see them, see him. you walked behind tara, she didn't say anything. you felt like a ghost, mindlessly floating around whenever you go visit their graves. "we didn't have to do this now, tara." you forced yourself to say. your breath hitching and voice cracking. you just did your makeup so nice, it'd be a shame for you to ruin it with tears you could shed tomorrow.

"I know" Tara said with a faint smile. you two managing to reach the top of the hill as she got down to place the flowers. you stood next to her this time, closing your eyes and making a prayer before turning around and walking back to the car, now ahead of her. "but if i didn't come with you today, I don't think you'd ever come this week to see them." and she had a point. that's why tara was your best friend, she knew you so well. she knew this week, you wouldn't get up. wouldn't visit the graves of the most precious people who ever lived.

you could only huff as you both returned to the car.

it wasn't until soon after tara had gotten out the car, smiling brightly as she walked to the line of the bar. "okay," she said gleefully, turning her head to you. his face stern as she pinched your cheeks, you smiled hitting her hand away playfully. "you aren't getting black out drunk this time, you hear me? i'm making sure tonight you aren't being so reckless. i always think to let you have fun and when I turn around - it's chaos!" she huffed and scrutinized you.

it was sweet on how she attempted to be your anchor, but she didn't compare to him. she couldn't compare. god, it was even worse on how you were comparing your dead best friend to the one who had just visited his grave with you. your stomach did a twirl of uneasiness.

"okay okay tara" you said softly, "i get it, lets go in now." you nudged her into the bar. it was crowded. the lights flashing different variations of colors as you watched how people moved and wiggled. this is where you needed to be, this was your home, your safe place. no matter how bad that sounded, no matter how self destructive you were, this is what helped you.

you maneuvered your way towards the bar. ordering yourself a drink. "here's to the first drink of the night" you mumbled to yourself lightheartedly. you could hear another chuckle next to you, turning your head you saw a man. he looked about 3 years older than you, his hair ruffled and his eyes a hue of blue. if you were really desperate you could even say purple if the lights hit his face in a nicer view.

he looked like caleb. it could make you shiver.

"another one of those nights?" he nudged your arm. you nodded and chuckled in response, taking another sip of your drink. "can't help it." you joked. now's not the time to mention your dead best friend's anniversary. "shit happens." the man swallowed down his drink getting up. he moved towards the crowd watching to see if you'd followed.

you watched him. how he said "pardon me" and "gotta get through here." it was scary. you blinked, and instead of him, you saw caleb. please not right now. you had hoped not to see him. how he smiled waving you over. how easily you've given into this little mind illusion. he felt so real.

you leaned in closer to 'caleb' and your stomach did a leap. your face buzzed with heat washing over your cheek. you missed him, you missed his touch and his warmth.

it was like you could almost sob with how real this was. you looked up, and saw his beautiful eyes. the eyes that washed you in so deeply, that made you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

so you couldn't help it if your hand moved to his neck, and the other moved to his face. how your eyes fluttered with utter love for the man standing in front of you. the man you've known your entire life, now here, dancing with you. you wanted to talk to him, hear his voice. you wanted to hear how much he missed you, and how he was holding you, how he was here, holding you.

"caleb," you said softly, placing your head back to his chest. it wasn't until you felt a sudden halt between you two. in confusion you looked up at caleb, before feeling a shove. your eyes blinking, brows furrowing. the illusion that long comforted you now slipping away as the man who once held you looked at you in pure disgust.

caleb's scent was no longer there, instead a heavy coat of musk and beer loomed over it instead. the once sugary dream you had was swiped away from you while another hand gave you licorice. it was sickening.

"the hell? the fuck's wrong with you?" he cursed under his breath storming away. "next time, you don't call a fucking guy another mans name when dancing with them." he spat at you before flipping you off. fuck. fuck fuck. did you really imagine caleb as this man? are you fucking insane?

you could only laugh at yourself to keep your composure. to keep yourself from bawling your eyes out. you moved back to the bar. ordering a new drink and sipping out of that. your eyes glazed around the bar, tara was dancing with some guy which meant you were either going home alone today or you could third wheel in the backseat, listening to the sounds of kissing and small moans.

you would take your chances walking home alone today.

tapping the bar counter, you asked for the tab and paid in full. mimicking the way caleb used to do it when you watched him order you both shirley temples when you were younger. yet there was no caleb, and instead of mocktail's there were full blown drinks made up of your own pity and guilt.

you walked outside, it was freezing and you could see the clouds beginning to brew. great, you'll just call a taxi instead. waving on the side of the road, you watched as a yellow car pulled over to you. getting in you told the driver your address and asked to get you there fast. you would even throw in a 15$ extra tip.

the ride was silent, and the rain began to pour. how cinematic. you thought to yourself. you've always hated the rain. the sounds of thunder and lightning that would be too close for your liking, alarmingly close. on those nights, you would walk to your door sniffling. opening it to find caleb, with his arms held out. instinctively you would rush in his arms as he coo'd you. bringing you back to bed and holding you.

"it's okay. you're okay." he'd say softly. rubbing the center of your back as he watched you trying to fight your eyelids open "i'll be here when you wake up. so sleep all you want, okay pip-squeak?" though this time it would be a lie. if you woke up tomorrow morning, he wouldn't be there anymore, and the day after that, and the day after that. repeating until you eventually took your last breath.

you sighed, before looking out the window. you thanked your taxi driver, paying him a 20$ tip instead. he tried to beat the rain, so A for effort. as you got out you looked up at your apartment, the sight of it looming over you. how you hated being here, hated the thought that again, tonight, you would be crying over the death of him.

closing the taxi door, you turned around to walk to your apartment, moving into a halt. there was a man. his frame was big and his size was taller than you. you looked closer at his back. he was in some sort of uniform. his hat hid his hair while the umbrella he held up kept him perfectly dry. he looked up at the apartment, like he was scanning in each and every window for something, or someone.

is he okay? does he need help? even though you were an average person, you were a hunter first still. you moved towards the man in black, placing your palm on his shoulder.

it probably wasn't a good idea to do this. he was probably a creep, and you were in a dress just returning from the bar you would no longer go to out of pure embarrassment. something in you tugged at the man though. you couldn't shake the feeling, and your heart skipped beats.

as the man turned you could catch a faint smell of vanilla. vanilla, apples and oak. it wasn't a heavy scent, but it was faint enough for you to swoon - oddly it reminded you of him. it was his scent. a scent you could recognize a thousand times in a thousand lives. your face shoved down. reluctant to look up, yet you forced yourself to.

no. you didn't want to imagine him again. not like this. it was new, you've never seen him like this. yet you couldn't deny yourself. you wanted to escape this illusion - this torture. yet you stood, looking.

the umbrella dropped, the sound of a small splash and thud could be heard as the man in front of you looked down at you.

it was caleb.

he was home.

your eyes fluttered, you wiped them as you stared at him. you dug your nail in your finger to make sure this was real. the pain confirming the actuality of the scenery. you couldn't help but sob. your hiccups matching the way your body huffed up and down. the way you hyperventilated as your lungs tried to clutch on as much air as they possibly could.

caleb looked down at you, his hands at his side while he stood in disbelief. emotions swirling in his chest. should he reach out to you? comfort you and hug you? tell you that it's okay, hes here now? caleb leaned into you. his hands finding their way to your back and he tugged you closer to him. it seemed all so natural for him, as he's done this countless times before.

you couldn't help but hold on to him, cling to him like he could disappear at any given moment. like if you let go, he'd leave you once more. caleb rubbed your back, holding you as close as he could. oh how he missed you, your skin and your beautiful eyes. he missed your scent and your voice. it pained him to know that just the mere sight of him made you burst out in tears.

it devoured him knowing that he caused all this anguish for you. you had already saw him, so there was no other way for him to make up the absolute torture he put you in the past year. caleb planted a small kiss on your head, his coo's soothing you as much as they could.

"I know pip-squeak, I know. its okay, I'm here, lets go inside okay? It's cold and wet out here. I promise I won't go anywhere." was what he had said to you, he wanted to calm you down. make sure you were okay, even if he would be making empty promises.