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winterarmyy · 1 year ago

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Welcome Home... Soldat? | Part II

That time when Bucky accidentally relapsed into the Winter Soldier.

Navigation: Part I || Part II* || Part III (end) || Extra

Words: 4.2k++ (of fluff and filth)

Pairing: winter soldier!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, no minors allowed, nsfw, dub con, fingering, pussyjob, thighjob, soldat being manipulative yet maintains to be so loving at the same time, another round of google translated russian, filthy praises, soldat just want to make you feel good, wet & messy everywhere, loud & whiny soldat, and at the end of the day, despite the manipulation, the soldat just want take care of you.

A/N: omfg 1k++ notes from the previous chapter?! i didn't think this would get so much attention that it had, tbh. Like wtf. What did I do to deserve this 😭 Thank you so much for your support! I can't even begin to tell you guys how much joy y'all bring me. So, I decided write more of our soft soldat for all of us cause let's be honest, we need him so bad. It's gonna be 3 part mini series. I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The darkness in his sight seemed permenant, at least until it transitioned into a dim-litted scenery. He recognized softness of the bed, and the blank white color of the ceiling.

He was in his room.

But, when he realized the emptiness of his bed, it was as if a force jolted through his body, yanking his lying figure into a sitting position. The dead silent was broken by the sound of his gasping breaths, followed closely by the beats of his pounding heart.

"Родная (darling)?" His voice shivered in his shaky breath.

When the silent replied his call, cold sweat drenched the roots of his hair. He almost jumped into a defensive position when the door of the walk-in wardrobe seemingly opened on its own.

But to his relief, her voice broke the silence, "Soldat?" Y/N peeped out her head when she heard his voice but the moment she saw the panic in his blue eyes, she quickly made her way towards him.

As soon as she was standing near enough, the soldat pulled her into a crushing hug, rubbing his face into her stomach a relief washed over him. Y/N ran her hands through his hair as she coaxed, "I'm here, I'm here."

He hummed in reply, "You're here." He repeated as a sigh escaped his lips.

Y/N didn't know why she expected that Bucky would be back after their "sleepover" but it was a shock for her when she woke up that morning with several tender kisses on her face by the soldat, who was very much still present.

"So, you're saying he's is not the winter soldier?" Sam cocked his head to the side as he tried to wrap up the overwhelming information thrown by Shuri.

The woman rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't say that. I said, he is not fully relapsed into the winter soldier." She reclarified.

"How was this possible? I thought he was gone?" Y/N asked as her worried gaze glanced over Bucky's unmoving figure in the examination pod.

Shuri sighed as she approached her, they watched Bucky's peaceful features resting through the glass, "We only remove the trigger that were attached to a switch to activating the winter soldier from Bucky; the soldat was never gone."

Y/N's eyebrows creased as the wakandan continued to explain, "It's like removing the toggle from a light switch; you can't turn it on just like that. But if, let say we use a toothpick to poke through the hole and trigger the switch, then..."

Steve intercepted her words before she could finish, "...then it'll be turned on." The woman nodded, "Precisely."

"That does not explain why Bucky is partially... not himself." Tony quickly probed as he casually threw a red M&M's into his mouth.

Steve paced back and forth in the room as he tried to replay the day of the incident, "Maybe it has to do something in that Hydra base that we raided. Bucky did look troubled on the jet home, then when we arrived he suddenly went berserk, looking for something; well... someone". He stopped as he threw a knowing look to Y/N.

"Yeah, why he is suddenly acting lovey dovey with y/n if the soldier was triggered? I don't get it." Sam crossed his arms against his chest as he questioned.

A smile almost cracked on Shuri's lips when they mentioned that, "This is just a hypothesis; but I reckoned that Bucky knew that the soldier is slowly taking over his mind and he didn't want to let himself vulnerable, exposed for people to give him orders."

Shuri leaned her back towards the table as she continued, "So instead, he latched himself on something else, to act as his mission. Some kind of desire that's buried as deep as where his winter soldier persona was concealed."

"So, you're saying that grumpy old man's deepest, darkest desire is to suffocate y/n with kisses and cuddles?" Tony quirked his eyebrow as he chewed on the sweet chocolate snack; there was certainly sarcasm in his voice.

Y/N intictively took the nearest object within her reach, which turns out to be a thick manual book, and struck Tony on his arms. The man repulsed with a confused frown on his forehead, mouthing a soundless, "What?"

Y/N mouthed back, "Shut up!" while Sam chuckled amusingly at the silent banter between them.

Ignoring the back and forth between Y/N and Tony, Shuri answered, "Well, those urges are derived by a certain key emotion, which I'm sure put you that genius title of yours into a good use, then you should've known the answer already."

"Love." Steve's revelation cuts through before Tony could throw his banter at Shuri, "He loves y/n." He repeated his words as if all of this made absolute sense.

Which only made Y/N stop on her tracks, "He loves me?" she questioned herself but everyone in the lab can practically see the confusion on her face.

Shuri agreed to Steve's deduction, "Yes, perhaps. I supposed that is why he is protective over her and like he said, wanted to suffocate her with kisses and cuddles." Shuri pointed at Tony as she return his sarcasm.

"Wait wait wait." Y/N held her hands forward as she stepped in the middle of the conversation, "Why are we casually agreeing to that as if it's normal? I mean, I know I'm not a genius but that is absolutely ridiculous. Bucky doesn't love me, as a friend maybe, yeah, but not like that." She couldn't help but to blush as she recalled the way the soldat hands and lips mapped on her skin.

"Yes, you are absolutely not a genius, especially when you are one of the two idiots who's in love with each other." Tony casually laid out the fact as everybody in the lab nodded in agreement, including Steve who she thought would back her up.

Y/N shook her head in denial and revert the conversation back to its original destination, "So, how do we get Bucky back?"

Shuri opened the terminal screen as she watched the progress of her observation, "Well, we're still figuring that out." Y/N's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"But what I can say is, it is best to let him stick with y/n for now." Shuri concluded.

They took the whole day running tests on the soldat, which he obediently cooperate as long as Y/N was there to hold his hand.

Between resting for breakfast, lunch and snack break; the soldat spend his time to be forced to put to sleep and out of it through out the day.

Right after dinner, and the final test run, he was just left to sleep off the rest of the night and Y/N finally had time to prep herself to sleep, when she heard Bucky's voice from the bed.

"Just finished showering. Hope you don't mind me wearing your shirt, they kinda lock me in here." Y/N frowned when she thought back on how the team managed to bring most of her things over but then forgot to pack her signature iron man pyjamas.

A fond smile curved on the soldat's lips as his gaze raked over her small body wrapped in his baggy shirt, which fell right at the middle of her naked thighs.

Y/N swore that there saw a flash of Bucky in his gleaming eyes. Or maybe she was just being delusional at this point.

She let him pulled her by the hand as he slowly brought her towards him. In no time, he had them both on the comfy matteress with soldat's back propped up against the headboard, while his arms found their place around Y/N's waist, cocooning her in between his legs.

It amazes her to think how comfortable she was, being this intimately close to him; when Bucky would've been too cautious to even approach her platonically.

So she decided rather than being constantly hesitant around the soldat, she thought that she might as well just enjoy the moment as it presented itself.

Y/N's exploring eyes stopped to the side of the bed when she saw a book next to the night lamp. She reached her hand as she leaned closer.

"Prince Caspian." She whispered to herself as her fingertips grazed across the title, "The Chronicles of Narnia, huh?"

It makes sense that Bucky would be interested to read this series, knowing his quirky yet undying brag about having the experience of reading The Hobbit back when it first came out.

Y/N couldn't help but to smile to herself, especially when her train of thoughts stopped at those memories of him.

She lifted the book towards the soldat, "What do you think, Soldat? Want me to read it to you?" She asked as the soldat rested his chin on her shoulder, peering at the deep blue, hard covered book.

He briefly hummed before replying, "Yes, please." The soldat loved the idea of being able to hear more of his darling's beautiful voice. It was his favourite thing in the whole world. Well, one of the things but surely all them were involving her.

Y/N settled herself as she leaned back against his sturdy chest. One of her legs were bent up towards her chest while the other was lazily thrown over his, spreading them as far as they could go.

The soldat placed light kisses on the back of her head all the way to the side of her neck, relishing at how soft her skin was and how good she smelled. The quiet of the room only enhanced the presence of her calming voice, luring him to close his eyes as he drowned himself the melody of it.

Minutes gone by and it was passing the half hour mark.

It wasn't that the soldat find the story boring or her voice drowsying, but he was feeling rather needy, almost greedy, to have more of Y/N to the point that he got slightly distracted.

She had been such a darling to him ever since he came home; fed him, letting him touch her, kiss her, pamper her, held her hand during those long lab tests, having her in his arms through the night and against his nightmare, and making him feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

And yet, she didn't get anything in return.

His darling deserved to feel good and he wanted to give it to her so badly that he was getting distracted from the story that she was passionately reading for him.

Soldat's hands carefully explored her body, from the side of her waist then slowly down to her naked thighs. Too engrossed with the plot, she almost instinctively opened her legs wider for him. Though she never intended to do so, her actions surely were quite sinful.

He used the opportunity to glide his metal hand deeper into her inner thighs, lightly caressing up higher towards where her thighs meet, until the tip of it brushed over her core.

Now that's when she realized the situation, her head shoot up to face him. The book in her hand almost thrown to the side as she reached to grab his, gripping it tightly as she tried to pull him away.

Failing to stop him, she whispered "W-what are you doing?" She stuttered as she felt his fingers slide across her clothed pussy.

Soldat looked down at the smaller, "Wanna make you feel good, мое Родная (my darling)" he innocently whispered back as his dangerous fingers provoked her.

When her silence remained, the soldat lifted the corner of his eyebrow in curiosity. Was she hesitating? He sees it as an opportunity to coax her to his will.

He cooed softly when he explained, "You deserve it, darling. Deserve it so much. Please, let me?" He sounded so desperate when he begs like that.

It feels like her whole body was burning, his touch were igniting flames wherever he drags his fingers. She knew it was wrong to feel like this, but she couldn't help it.

Oh, how his fingers works wonders even with the thin fabric were blocking his access.

Y/N bit her lower lip as she looked down to her thighs. The way she was grabbing onto his hands as he moved around; it looked like she was guiding him to touch her more.

The soldat knew she was close to be tempted to submit, "I promise it'll feel good. So good." he almost growled in her ears as he saw patch of the dampness started to appear on the center her panties.

"Don't." she whispered quietly, but that only made the soldat to futher seduce her as he add more pressure on his middle finger.

She hesitated for a while before she slurred "D-don't stop." her head thrown back into his neck, finally giving in to his promise of pleasure.

Lust took over the soldat, "Gonna make you feel so good, Родная (darling). Promise gonna treat your pretty pussy right. Make her cum so hard." He whispered lovingly as his breath sends shivers down her spine.

The soldat groaned, dropping his head to her neck to press open mouthed kisses on her untainted skin as he slipped his hand into her panties.

"Already wet for me?" He chuckled, biting his lip before his long finger slid between her folds.

"Hmmm." she tried to suppressed her voice as his finger moved up and down so deliciously.

"Of course," He said with a smile. He went on to tease her sensitive clit with slow, torturous circles, which force her to close her eyes, biting down on her lip to suppress a shrill moan.

"Родная (darling)," the soldat cooed. "You can scream as loud as you want. Let me hear those pretty noises, yeah?"

Y/N thought to reply but her own breath hitches when that one finger that has been circling her hole finally dips in, proceeding to spread her open for more.

She moaned louder this time, "Soldat..." The movement was completely involuntary; when her hand latch on to hold his wrist as her thighs try to squeeze shut at the feeling of him pressing another finger into her wet stretching cunt.

But, of course he was quick to spread her legs back open, preventing her to shy away.

"p-please soldat, ahh." She mewled, scratching the metal of his arm.

The soldat nibbled on the shape of her ears as he hushed, "There, there darling. Open up for me." His two long, metal fingers thrusts and rubs the inside of her pulsating pussy, occasionally scissoring her cunt as he took her right hand into his fleshed one; intertwining her fingers with his.

Her other hand scrambled to dug into his thigh as she arched her back, grinding her hips down against his metal hand. The soldat smirked proudly at her reaction, moving his fingers a little faster, a little rougher. Just enough to make her whine and move against him in search of more stimulation.

She cried out as his thumb circled her clit, "Ahhh fuck" she moaned shamelessly, while his eyes followed each jerk of her body as if he was memorizing it all.

"Hmm, you're so wet, Родная (darling). So warm too." The soldat hissed as he felt his hand were soaking by the minute. The muffled sound of his thrusts against her wet heat filled the room.

He looked down to her hidden pussy; his hand covered by the panties she was wearing, "Look down baby, open your eyes and look down." he lured her with low groan.

Completely loss in bliss, she complied without asking any question. Both the soldat and Y/N was looking at the same sight, the same shape of his hand clinging tight to the fabric, barely hidden under the thin layer of her panties, moving up and down; in and out of her pussy.

Somehow, watching the way it moves made her closer to her orgasm.

In one swift move, the soldat lifted her slightly to pull the barrier off by the waistband. An animalistic groan rumbled from deep within his chest, when he was completely revealed to the sinful sight of her naked pussy.

So wet and full with his fingers.

The soldat teasingly entered a third finger into her, stretching her out so good that she felt tears prick her eyes. Y/N's head snapped forward along with a buck of her hips. "S-soldat,, ahhhh" Her whines grew louder than before and she felt the flame in her stomach growing yet it wasn’t enough.

"Look at you. Look how well you're taking me. My darling is such a good girl, isn't she?" The soldat sounds sickeningly sweet when he murmured in her ears.

He pressed his thumb harder against her swollen clit, rubbing hard and fast circles as he pumped his fingers knuckle deep in and out of her cunt, causing her to gasp from the sensation.

He twisted and curled his fingers around to find that delicious spot inside of her, giving that delicious friction as he fucked her open. The noises coming from her pussy were so lewd, so crude and it only spurred him on.

"Sounds so perfect, Родная (darling). These pretty noises from your lips up here." The soldat murmured as he kissed the corner of her lips, "and down here." his fingers pumped faster, curling over and over again, creating the lewd squelching sounds of her juices leaking out.

Almost seeing stars, Y/N moaned desperately, "Cummin',, so good, 'm cumming." Oh, how sweet does her moans sounded in the soldat's ears.

"Already, Родная (darling)?" he groaned as he felt her hole pulsated, "But you need more, little one." He persuaded her edge a little more; but with the way he was fucking into her weeping pussy, she certainly wasn't able handle it anymore.

She whined needily as she shook her head, "Wanna cum now, please soldat ohh god please please please." She begged deliriously.

The soldat hummed as he worked his fingers up her hole, "Oh darling, you don't need to beg for it. You're so precious, I'd give you anything." He mumbled against her cheek as he kisses her, "Now, cum for me. Let me see you wet my bed, Родная (darling). Go on, cum."

All words die in the back of her throat when a he cooed at her. She threw her head back as a squeak of whine dies in her mouth; eyes squeezing shut, her body tensing as the soldat makes sure that she rides out the high for as long as she should.

"That's it darling, cum for your soldat. give it to me,, aahhh" He motioned, forming an 'O' with his mouth as she clamp down on his fingers; with his wide eyes looking down at her exposed pussy. Her orgasm gushed and flowed out onto his hand, dripping on the sheet as she quietly cry out in pleasure.

"So pretty," he praised, as his fingers kept pumping slowly in and out of her pussy, "So gorgeous, cumming so hard for me," he grunts in her ears as her high begins to settle.

He pull out his fingers, leaving her feeling empty for the sudden lost of touch. But that didn't last long when he proposed something else.

"One more time Родная (darling), with me." He moaned he sunk his metal hand into his pants and pull out his aching cock. The soldat tugs himself in his palm, rubbing the wetness on his hand around his length before settling it between her throbbing cunt.

Y/N didn't manage to let our her protest when he intercepted her, "Won't put it in, darling. Just..." his words linger as he squeezed her plush thighs together, engulfing his warm cock between them, "...wanna snuggle in between your thighs, Куколка (little one)."

"So keep them pressed together, okay?" the brunnete coaxed as his hands took a hold on her, "Will you do that for me?" The soldat asked sweetly.

She gave a small nod of affirmation, looking down at where the soldat's hands squishing both side of her thighs. The feeling of his length throbbing, wet with her slick, had her squeezing her thighs together more.

"That's my sweet girl. Promise you, it'll feel so good, darling." He let out a pleasurable groan as his hips jerked all the way forward, his skin meeting the back of her thighs while the head of his cock was peeking out from the other side.

With a squeeze of her hips in his hands, that will definitely leave bruises afterwards, he started to grind her into him. Back and forth, for the few experimental thrusts. And the moment her pretty little moans started to spill, he knew she needed more.

"More?" he moaned lowly, rocking his hips mindlessly.

Y/N limped back against his chest, whimpering sweetly for him as her needy little cunt drools messily all over her thighs and his cock; effortlessly making the thrust of his length between her thighs even easier.

If she was already so sensitve from him fingers before, now it's just oversimulating for her, "Hmm,, s-soldat,, that feels s-so good," she slurred, eyes rolling back.

"Yeah?" he gloated as he grunts, "Are you gonna cum again, darling? Come on, sweet one, I want to feel it." The soldat almost whimpered as he felt the thudding beat of her cunt on the stroke of his cock.

Y/N simply nodded, mouth falling open. His cock works over her sweet little pussy, nudging the sensitive bundle of nerve as he urged her to orgasm alongside his own.

He watched the way she drag her nails into the flesh of his thighs, "There she is, come on. Let it out, darling. That's it. Hmmm." His chest rumbled a deep groan. It was such a turned on for the soldat, to see the sight of him humping her legs faster until her slick finally wetting her thighs and his cock, making a mess everywhere.

Even if she has reached her high, his thrusts didn't flatter as his own orgasm was still at the edge. "Ahh,, darling,, please-- c-can't stop,," The upperside of his cock harshly rubbed between her sloppy folds, the feeling of the creamy mess between her thighs, making him fucked her faster.

The soldat whined needily into her neck as he drag her tightness back and forth. "So good, don't wanna stop." he squirmed as his voice hitched into a needy whimper, letting his head fall back to the headboard, his disheveled hair hanging by his face, some of it sticking onto his sweaty skin.

The room echoed with the several sinful sounds; his whimpers, her mewls, their skins slapping, the bed creaking, the wetness squelching.

It was such a dream for the soldat, especially when her folds spread around his fat cock every time he rolled his hips forward. The sight was beyond compelling, addictive to a certain extend.

"S-soldat,, please i'm,,hmmm,, sensitive." She can feel how thighs burned from the friction, and her slit abused with pleasure.

The soldat leaned into her until his hot breath blew across her neck, "Just a little more, Родная (darling)? Please? Wanna cum around your soft thighs, between your pretty pussy. You'll let me, right sweet one? You'll let me make a mess all over you? Paint you with my cum. You'll look so gorgeous, Родная (darling)"

His filthy thoughts started to spill out uncontrollably, as his body trembled in pure pleasure. His heaving chest rested on her small back when he whimpered, almost forcing her on her knees, pushing her down the mattress.

He wanted that so bad.

Just fuck her thighs and folds while she's on all fours, abusing her body for his pleasure and maybe slot the tip of his cock inside that tight cunt just before he cum, give that greedy little cunt a taste of his load, but he rather than that the soldat hold back on his thought, because truthfully he very much wanted to make a mess all over her right now.

His mouth sucking on her neck, leaving another one of his mark on her skin; one of many between those shades of purples and reds.

"Cumming for you, darling." He moaned loudly, eyes locked between her thighs, as his leaking cockhead occasionally peeks out. "Have so much cum for you,, gonna cream all over these thighs" He groaned, clenching his teeth as his cock throbs.

She clenched tighter as a unexpected orgasm were coming fast, letting out a desperate squeal as she reach her high. He growled at the feeling of her gushing pussy, fucking their orgasm into a higher level ecstacy.

The rolls of his hips were flattering into a slower and and sensual tempo, as both of them watched his cock; the way it pulsed and throbbed wildly, before white spurts of his hot cum started gushing from the little slit.

The soldat trembled through his orgasm, mouth falling open as he moaned lewdly at the sight of her skin being painted by his seemingly endless amount of cum.

Y/N panted heavily as her lips hanged open; failed words just at the tips of her tongue, unable to be formed properly. It didn't take long for the drowsiness to cloud her eyes, caused by the aftershock of the pleasure.

"There, there." The soldat cooed breathlessly in her ear, "So pretty, darling." Pampering the mark on her skin with gentle kisses, "So good for me." He mumbled as he languidly thrusts his cock, stroking the sides of her thighs, memorizing the sight of their wet mess.

Her body felt so good and satisfied, and the lid of her eyes slowly flutter into a longer close. She didn't hear much of his praises as he as laid her down, especially when his voice going in and out of her ears, as she was fighting through the temptation of slumber.

But, her body absolutely remembered how soft his touches on her skin, and the warm of the wet cloth swiping on the burn of her inner thighs, carefully over her swollen cunt.

"Love you, my precious darling." She couldn't make up what he was whispering under his breath. But she remembered the soldat pulling her close to his chest as he laid her on top of him, and the sweet kiss on her forehead before complete darkness engulf her sight.

"Your soldat loves you so much."

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

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freshxsturniolo · 5 months ago

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4th july pt2! - chris sturniolo x fem!reader

pt1 here

“that chris by any chance?” your best friend tara says as she finally jumps into bed. you’re staying the night at jake, johnnies and carringtons place and you’re wrapped tightly under the duvet in their spare room. tara has been running around still with the three boys, but as soon as your phone altered you to that first text, you’d excused yourself.

you smirk as you look at her and she gives you an eyebrow raise.

“i didn’t know you were talking to him like THAT” she says now. “when i saw him spinning you around in the pool i thought nothing of it until i saw his hands on your ass.”

a laugh escapes you, your head sinking into your pillow as tara leans forward to hold your arm, laughing with you.

“i’m serious” she choked out. “i didn’t say a thing to anyone thinking i’d leave you both to it until you started practically fucking in the pool”

“tara!” you squeal. “we weren’t fucking in the pool!”

she laughs, that signature tara yummy laugh, and then rolls her eyes. “okay maybe i was being dramatic there but, jesus, he looks like a good kisser”

you chuckle slightly, “he is.”

“you could have invited him back here ya know, jake wouldn’t have mind. i could have slept somewhere else”

you’re listening but sending across your last text to chris, butterflies in your stomach at the flirting once again that now felt much deeper before shutting your phone off and placing it under your pillow, turning round to face tara.

“he wants to take me for dinner tomorrow”

tara eyes go wide. “oh fuck. wait. so this is more than just -“

she stops as she doesn’t know how to explain it, but you know exactly what she means. yes, for now, this is defiantly more than a one night stand. at least, you secretly hope. his words of being respectful could all be a plot. you might have dinner tomorrow and realise that actually, you’d be better off as friends. but for now, entertaining a thought of something more with chris sturniolo was making you giddy.

“yeah. i think so” you confirm.

tara slaps her head back onto the pillow and looks up at the ceiling.

“you did look cute together, im not gonna lie”

you smile as your mind goes back to the party just a few hours ago. you’re still drunk now, but after you’d got out the pool the drinking slowed down.

you had stayed in the pool for only a short while after, your hair and make up completely ruined yet you didn’t have a care. outfit completely soaked through. but the entire time you couldn’t deattach your lips. it’s like all that flirting and lack of alone time together had bought a force over you that neither of you knew how to stop. but when you realised you were the only two in the pool, you pulled him out. hand in hand.

your friends had noticed by that point, and a few typical claps and cheers erupted from them, which in your drunken state had only made you laugh. as tara had suggested, no one knew you and chris were actually talking as much as you were and you knew everyone around you thought it was just a drunken kiss. but as the night went on and you both changed, jake nice enough to let chris raid his wardrobe for some comfier and none wet clothes, you changing into your overnight clothes you’d already bought, you couldn’t stay away from each other once more.

the party continued on behind you, but you stayed firmly close to chris. he’d thrown on a pair of black ed hardy shorts that jake had no intention of ever wearing and you were in your short pyjama bottoms, and at every single moment from then your skin was touching. it started as sitting back in the circle you left, legs crossed and knees touching. which led to the occasional arm touch as you laughed at each others jokes. that lead to you leaning into him as you got tired, to eventually sitting inbetween his legs, his chest as a back support as he lay his chin atop your head as you spoke to the people around you. his hands around your waist and your hands clasped against his.

when it was time to leave, you made him promise to text when he got home as you walking him to the front door, but it was only second before he was pushing you against the wall. his hands under your jaw as your kiss deepened, and at one point you where sure that actually, scrap the dinner, he was going to end up staying the night or taking you home, before he finally pulled away, a breathless “i’ll see you tomorrow” escaping his lip before he turned to meet his brothers in the car.

you had not felt this way in a long time. had never had a guy treat you like an actual human being and not just someone to get into bed. so yes, tomorrow couldn’t come quick enough. hangover or no hangover, you were excited to spend some time with him.

"do you like him?" tara says now, looking at you, and you give her a smile.

"its too early to say, isn't it?" you ask, and tara rolls her eyes.

"im assuming you agreed to dinner tomorrow?"

"yes"

she laughs. "so yes. you like him. when was the last time you went to dinner with somebody?"

and you're laughing too, because deep down you know that chris might most defiantly become more than just a few dates.

tagged : @spencerstits @chrissturnsss

#chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #tara yummy #jake webber #johnnie guilbert #carrington usa

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hometoursandotherstuff · 4 months ago

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This is insane and it just came out yesterday, and will open on Aug. 21st. So, who wants to stay in the new Polly Pocket house? It's so weird, though, it's all open and you sleep in the tent thing. Located in Westford, MA, it fits 4 guests in 1bd and has a private 1/2 bath (so don't even think about showering or anything.)

It's hosted by Polly Pocket herself, so I'll let her describe the photos: Hi, friends! Sleepover at my place! You in? I’ll be off on a 35th birthday adventure, but my life-sized Slumber Party Fun compact is all yours for the night.

Play dress-up with my wardrobe. Suit up for adventure with my dresses, glamour jacket, scarves, and more!

Craft some bling for your BFFs. Unleash your creativity at my picnic table—aka Friendship Bracelet Station.

Raid my kitchen for your fav ‘90s goodies. It’ll be all that and a bag of chips! And lots of candy, too. My compact is stuffed to the brim with all my favorite snacks from the greatest era in snacking history. Ring Pops and Push Pops and Baby Bottle Pops, oh my!

Be kind, unwind, and rewind with a movie marathon on literal video cassettes. Remember those?! The couch pulls out, so snuggle up. BYOB (Bring Your Own Blanket).

At night, embrace the outdoors and camp out under the stars in my Action Park Tent. Whisper secrets, tell ghost stories, and giggle into the night while cozying up in one of the four sleeping bags I left for you.

Other things to note: My compact doesn’t close because, like me, it’s always open to adventure. So, what do you think? I don't know why they went w/the compact instead of the house. I don't like the openness. Maybe it's a temporary installation?

https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/1177661634882168657?

#polly pocket airbnb #polly pocket #other stuff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months ago

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Winter's King 23

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: I sprained my ankle.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The king shifts you off of him, lifting you with him as he stands. The tension is rigid in his grip. He steadies your bodies and helps you over the edge of the tub. Another pounding sounds at the door and his name arises again.

King Geralt follows, splashing water on the floor in his expediency. He takes a bath sheet from the wardrobe and wraps it around you, not saying a word. Your heart races as you let him move you. You’re paralysed with the embarrassment of that moment. You’re about to be caught out in a perilous position.

He urges you towards the bed and points you onto it. You hug the sheet around you and sit near the pillows. He pulls shut the canopy around you, blocking out the room behind the drapings. You sink down, horrified. He’s hiding you. As thankful as you are for his discretion it only reminds you of your own guilt.

He coughs and his feet slap around. You hear another rustle of linen and your ears prick as he goes to the door. He inches it open with a creak, “Vesemir,” he greets flatly.

“Ah, the king lives,” the gritty voice is more familiar without the barrier of the wood, “ah, and look at him, in his respite, enjoying the hot waters as his wife runs amok in my castle.”

“Wife?” Geralt repeats grimly, “what is your meaning?”

“Do you mean to keep my out in the corridors of my own home?” The man demands and slaps the door. “Boy--”

“Eh,” the king grunts, “mind yourself.”

“Don’t play proper with me,” the man scoffs and the door groans, letting him in. You can see shadows through the small slot between the curtains. You shy away, hoping whoever it is won’t look back.

“Vesemir,” the king repeats, confirming the identity, “what is my wife about?”

“Won’t you come see?” The man challenges, “her and her soldiers are raiding my cellar. I allowed one bottle and now I will be drunk dry. I serve the kingdom but I did not swear myself to spoiled summer welps.”

“Mm,” the king growls as he moves beyond your sight, not that you can see very much through the narrow space. “I’ll tend to her--”

“Certainly, you will or I will march her out with my ax.”

“You needn’t go so far,” the king girds with a sigh as you hear the stiffness of leather.

“When you marched south, I didn’t think it would soften you,” Vesemir rebukes, “you hide in a tower, soaking in steam.”

“It has been a long road. We won’t be long here and I thought to wash,” King Geralt sneers defensively. “Even bears like you need a good scrubbing. You more than any, I think.”

Silence. Tense and roiling. You crawl forward to get a better view of the room. You put your eye to the slat between the curtains and nearly squeak as the older man booms with laughter and claps the younger’s bare shoulder.

“Aye, I probably do smell like the caves,” he rumbles. “And you always did smell like a horse, Geralt.”

The king mutters again as he pulls a tunic over his head, the wet tails of his hair leaving speckles of water across the wool. You blink as the other man shifts and you see his profile clear. You know the man. It is the cook. Rather, not a cook at all but Vesemir, the lord of the castle. You're caught in surprise, staring through at him.

As if drawn by your gaze, he glances over and you quickly retreat from the curtain, hoping you were not spotted. His tongue makes a noise against the roof of his mouth and he huffs. His sole scuffs as the king’s laces whip against his boots.

“Geralt,” Vesemir intones with disappointment.

Silence and another heavy breath. You don’t know from which man. The chair scrapes as the king stands.

“It isn’t to mind,” King Geralt insists, “I will fetch my queen and put her back in her chamber.”

Vesemir growls, “I do wonder why she might act so, with such a loving husband.”

“Enough. It isn’t your concern.”

“Not as yet, but the king’s business is everyone’s concern. Especially of those who marched on his behalf for a summer’s kingdom and a summer’s queen.”

“You did not march,” the king rebuffs.

“Eh, do not,” Vesemir warns, “I do not lecture, I warn you. You are a king now, mm, not a boy playing at tourney knight.”

“I am aware,” King Geralt snips, “tell me what you are aware of, hiding away in your vultures’ pit. These winter lords wanted home to their families, so I made it so. I agreed to marry that... traitor’s daughter and what have I got for it but a headache? You need not make my skull pound any harder, Vesemir.”

“Oh yes, your father was no fan of politics either. Nor did he play them well. Perhaps you might take another lesson after him,” Vesemir rebukes, “that turncloak’s daughter will not be any more amenable should she learn of her husband’s follies.”

“She cannot see past her own nose,” Geralt straps his sword over his back.

“You are hard to miss,” Vesemir insists.

“Let us go to the cellar, I tire of your reproach.”

“Ever obstinate, my liege,” the lords tuts and shakes his head, turning for the door.

You angle to watch them go, the door shutting heavily in their stead. You let out a breath and hug your legs to your chest. You look up at the canopy and the looming bed frame. And so it begins, you sit, trapped by the king’s deceit.

⚔️

After some time, you dare to step beyond the canopy. You dress and sit at the table; the chamber growing still as the water cools and stagnates. The fire crackles to embers but you’re too fraught to think to feed it. You stare at the door. The longer you wait, the more your doubt threatens to consume you.

There is no dial or no sunlight to gauge how long but it is longer than you anticipate. You grow restless and rise, pacing as you twist your palms against each other. Is it the queen the keeps the king? Or something more dire?

When at last you hear movement on the stairs, you can’t help but hide against the wall. The footsteps hammer up and the door bursts open from the other side. At first, you fear the worst. Perhaps your mind has made it all a bit too extravagant but in a manner, you long for it to end, one way or the other.

King Geralt storms in like a gust of wind and snow. The wood snaps against stone as he blusters across the floor and kicks a chair. It cracks against the table and the armrest splinters. You curl your fingers into your apron and sway.

The king grabs the edge of the table and overturns it, sending the books and plates atop it to the floor. He circles like a rabid wolf, stomping and seething, growling as his anger simmers up his throat. He stops as if struck and goes to the bed, tearing back the canopy. His chest puffs as his brow furrows.

“Treasure...” he breathes.

You shudder, “your highness.”

He turns and sees you, his shoulders easing. He closes his eyes and his jaw locks. He pushes his hands over his hair as he calms himself. He opens his eyes against and drops his arms.

“Did I frighten you? I didn’t mean to,” he slowly comes closer, “you know I could never harm you.”

“Yes, your highness, I only meant to be out of the way,” you utter. “Something is amiss?”

“Mmm,” he hums through his nose, “that is a way to say it.” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles, “my wife has not been a very gracious guest. Lord Vesemir’s hospitality quickly wanes. The storm won’t be much longer before we can depart...” he doesn’t look happy for the fact, “and we would be best to do so quickly.”

“Is that not good? Aren’t you happy to go home?” You ask.

His expression softens, “little maid, of course. I cannot wait to show you it all but... I hoped we might have some more time before that. The road is not easy.” He exhales and raises your hands, kissing each, “I must let you go for now. I have acted hastily and there are still matters to attend to. The war I started still roils in the air.” He shakes his head, “I have foes to harry as yet.”

You blink, “what do you mean?”

“Never you worry,” he lowers your hands, “I’ve only one mission for you, little maid.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“You will return to the queen’s service, yes? You will tend to her as you always have but you will watch and you will listen. Every lord, every lady, ever single vermin that keeps her company, I want to know of,” he sneers.

“Your highness? Why--”

“Do not ask why. I require it, that is all you need to know. For our safety, you must do this,” he clings to you, “treasure, I know you are a loyal creature, it is what first drew me to you, but that woman you serve wouldn’t know loyalty if it crept up her skirts.” He lets you go hesitantly, “she is still a traitor’s daughter.”

Your lip trembles and you quickly still it. He is asking you to play spy. On Jazlene. On your queen. His very own wife. But why? She is foolish, she is a drunkard, but she is harmless.

“You swore yourself to your duty, didn’t you?” He arches a brow. “The king comes above all. Regardless of house, of master, you serve me.”

“I will serve as I swore,” you grit out, injured by his tone.

That same day he was gentle and now he is steely and demanding. He toys with you. He only means to use you in whatever way the moment calls for. It is not grand revelation but no less painful.

“Do not be sombre, treasure, in due time,” he rasps. He backs away and puts his back to you, “go, before I let my heart get the best of me. Should you stay longer, I might never let you leave.”

“Your highness,” you bow and walk to the door.

“The knight awaits you. He will take you to the queen.”

“Thank you,” you stand in the doorway.

“Wait,” he calls to you and follows after. You turn to find him with cloak in hand, “you will need this.”

You look down at the cloak. You take it without protest. Even if it is tainted, he isn’t wrong. You will face the cold soon enough and you wouldn’t fare long in your wool and linen. You thank him and he sees you through the open door, closing it as you descend.

As you come to the bottom, you find a shadow awaiting you. It isn’t Bryce. The figure is broader and his white hair shines in the torch light. You step off the bottom step and bend your neck.

“My lord,” you greet the castle lord.

“Maid,” he returns dully, “so it is the little dove that coos as the king.”

You keep your head down, turning it away in shame as you purse your lips. It is your first lesson in judgment but not an easy one.

“I didn’t expect you so much as you didn’t expect me. Sir Bryce has allowed me your time but he warned me he would be back,” he explains. “I only wanted the measure of the king’s fancy. I’ve known him a very long time so it is curious to me that he has put himself in such a... circumstance.”

“My lord,” you whisper, throat crackling.

“Hmmm,” he gives a thoughtful hum. You languish in his silence as he looms in the flicker of lanterns. He pushes away from the wall and steps closer. “You are not offended, but guilty. There is no presumption in you, dove. You do not take insult from what I say, you only take on the onus of the king’s desire.”

He leans in and brings his hand under your chin, forcing your head up. He looks at you, examining you like some riddle. His wrinkles deepen as the shadows make caverns of his eye sockets.

“I see it clear,” he remarks as he pulls his hand away. “I remember the dove who treated cook no lesser than lord,” he stands straight and crosses his arms, “I see no difference between her and you. Yes, I was not mistaken before, but I believe our king is. He does not know you though he believes he does.”

“My lord, I serve the king.”

“You serve your queen,” he counters, “you are of the summer, just like her. So how do you choose?”

You stare at him and your eyes sting. Can you choose?

“It doesn’t matter which one, either would clip your wings,” he lets out a gray breath. “Dove, I will keep your peace. I hold no malice for you, no, I pity you.” He puts his hand to his chest, “while you are under my roof, you will have whatever you need. I will have that soldier find you a proper chamber. For yourself, and should you want, you will have the pick of my pantry. What little delights you might have, I would enjoy them while you can.”

“Thank you, my Lord, but that is very much for a maid.”

He touches your cap, his fingers lingering on the linen, “summer dove... I told you these winds were too cold for you.”

“I must go to the queen,” you plead.

“Yes, go,” he backs away, “I will send your soldier to you.” His lips go crooked as his eyes narrow thoughtfully, “I’ve known Sir Bryce a very long time. That man alone is the best army you could have at your back.”

“He is kind, sir,” you say.

“Is he now?” Lord Vesemir scoffs, “well, maybe one day, I might remember him as such. Do not let me keep you from your duty.”

He stays by the wall and you step around him. You don’t look back as you march forward, the cryptic conversation follows you through the corridors. There was something unsaid in his voice, as if he knew something you don’t. One might take it as him making a joke of you, but you don’t see that man laughing over such grave matters.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #the witcher #winter's king #medieval au

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bahablastplz · 5 months ago

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All in | Chapter 3

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: you escape and face the consequences of your actions

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

<< previous ♡ next >>

It’s cold outside, you think, and you wish you had brought a little more thought to your choice in outfit because the shirt you’re wearing does little to protect your skin from the harsh wind. You regret not finding something a little thicker, something with longer sleeves perhaps when you had raided the wardrobe earlier. You were searching for comfort, not practicality, and now that decision was coming to bite you in the ass.

Your body carries you through the wooded area surrounding the house, brambles scratching at your arms and drawing blood. You thank your body for pumping out adrenaline once again, protecting you from feeling too much pain. You’re not sure if you’ve ever run this hard or this fast in your entire life, the burning in your lungs evident that maybe you should have focused a bit more on staying in shape. Your shoes were definitely not made for running and you add it to the list of things to curse yourself for later.

The pavement under your feet is different from the mushy grass surrounding the SKZ base and you find yourself trying not to connect your feet as hard to the ground to make up for it, lest the burning in your legs slow you down. Wait… pavement? You slow, coming to a stop to allow yourself a moment to view your surroundings and catch your breath.

You notice you're in the city, albeit a deserted part of it that you don't recognize. Looking left and right, you decide to go in the direction of the faded city lights. At every car that passes you hold your breath and try to sink into the bushes, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible just in case Chan is in one of the vehicles.

Salvation comes to you in the form of a gas station, seemingly devoid of any life. As you near close, you let out a sigh of relief when you see the blinking ‘open’ sign. One person mans the register, a man in his mid-30s that doesn’t seem to pay you any mind. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey but even so you can’t find it in you to be displeased.

“Excuse me, sir,” you say, saccharine sweet. “Do you have a phone I could borrow?” The first thing you would like to do is give your sister a phone call, to let her know you’re on the way.

“You have to buy something first,” he replies instantly, not even bothering to look up from his newspaper.

You freeze. “But… I don't have any money.” It's the truth. God knows where your phone and wallet are; you haven’t had either since you started dating Jungwon and became dependent on him for everything.

“That's not my problem,” he says. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, inhaling the aroma of hot dogs and nacho cheese. A slushie machine whirls behind you, reds and blues that could be impossibly easy to get lost in.

“Listen sir, I've had a rough couple of days, and I don't know where I am, and I would really appreciate it if–”

“No, you listen, brat,” he spits the word out, finally slamming his paper down and shooting you a nasty glare. “I don't give a damn who you are, either buy something or get the Hell out of my store before I call the cops.”

You feel inclined to listen and book it out of here but you realistically don’t have many other options. You ignore the tears threatening to spill from your lash line. If he won’t let you use the phone, the least you could do is try to figure out where you are.

“Um… okay, how far is Second Street from here?”

“Least three miles.”

“Three miles? Okay. What about downtown?”

“Still at least an hour walk.”

“Shit, okay. Have a nice night, sir,” you say, but you don’t mean it and he doesn't deserve it. You walk out of the store nonetheless, walking on the abandoned sidewalk in the direction of the city. Your body aches and you’re not sure how far you’ve walked when you hear voices in front of you.

There’s three men. One of them sways back and forth as he walks, obviously inebriated. Fuck. You keep your eyes glued to the sidewalk and your pace quickens, hoping that a lack of engagement will increase your luck. Maybe, just maybe for once in your life you’ll get a free pass here. Of course that doesn’t happen.

“Hey, pretty thang. What's a girl like you doing all by yourself this late at night?” The man nudges his friend, the noticeably drunker one.

“I don't want any trouble,” you mumble, pushing forward.

A large unwelcoming hand reaches out to grab your wrist and you shout out in pain. Broken. Despite the ice and bandage wrapped around your appendage, your wrist is still broken.

“What wash that? I think she said she wantshta show ush a good time!” He slurs, and anxiety settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re starting to get really tired of the feeling.

“Let me go, please!” Your other hand gripped the offender’s, placing it over his tight grasp.

You're shoved to the ground, knees scraping against the sidewalk. Your breath is caught in your throat, and the scene is all too familiar.

“Come on bunny, don't you want to play?” A hand grips around your throat, and you feel like prey. How they managed to find the parts of you that were weak and vulnerable, you had no clue. Men like this just had a knack for being awful like that. A hand snakes in your hair and grabs tight, and you’re reminded of just days ago being in this exact situation.

“Look, she’s crying!” one of them coos. You let out a loud sob and think, God, I’m going to die here. How you always have a knack for making wrong decisions, you’ll never know.

“Let her go.” Your eyes shoot open when you hear a familiar deep voice. Instead of being filled with fear at finally being caught, you can’t help but to feel relieved.

“Felix!” you cry out. You try to crane your head to look at him but the man’s grip on your hair is too tight.

“Let her go? Why? We were having a good time!” One of them laughs and you feel his grip on you tighten. You whimper in pain. “Do you wanna join in?”

Felix doesn’t say anything, but you hear a soft, mechanical clicking sound. It’s too silent and you’re afraid that you know the reason why. Your eyes stay closed but you’re free, suddenly. As you begin to fall you brace to hit the concrete but you’re surprised when you don’t. A warm and steady arm wraps around your middle and you relax into Felix as the men scamper away.

“He's fucking crazy, man. The bitch isn't worth it.” And like that, they are gone. You allow yourself to glance down at Felix and the gun he is holding, but you aren't intimidated anymore. He has gotten rid of the real threat.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, not looking at you. You swallow, hating to be the target of his disappointment. The gun is put away and forgotten about and you slump out his grasp and onto the concrete. You shake your head at him, trying to indicate that you are okay, you’re not seriously hurt, but you can tell he doesn’t believe you. Instead he ushers you into a car that you hadn’t even noticed had appeared, obviously too caught up in the situation at hand. He opens the door for you and you climb in, noticing that he sits in the passenger seat, not the driver’s. You furrow your brow until you recognize Hyunjin in the driver’s seat, tapping furiously on the wheel. On your left you recognize the broad frame as Changbin, who seems to be more distressed than anyone else in the car. You hope for silence, but once again, you can never be so lucky.

“How do you always manage to get yourself into such trouble?” Hyunjin laughs. He irritates you to no end, always so sure of himself and full of it. “First Jungwon, us, and now these thugs? Do you have a knack for finding trouble or does trouble find you?” You notice Felix tense, and you decide staying in silence is probably better to not irritate the men further. You look out the window instead as the car speeds off.

Hyunjin continues, “Normally Chan would want us to blindfold you if we were taking you back to our place, but he told us not to bother this time. He seems incessant that there’s no reason to.” Does he ever shut up? “Expect for him to be pissed. He knew you were going to leave, though.”

Now that was enough to break your silence.

“He knew?” you ask, incredulous.

“Of course. It was a test, after all. To see where your loyalties lie, if he threatens you and tells you not to escape, you’re much more likely to leave right after because you think you can get away with it.” Shit. Now you feel dumb. But instead of letting on, you scoff and turn your head back to the window, finding the view much more interesting. You’re shivering still from the cold despite the heat pumping through the air vents. Felix wordlessly takes off his coat and hands it to you, and while you want to be proud and reject the offer you can’t help but want for this chill in your bones to go away. His jacket is warm and you can smell the trace of his cologne, floral, like jasmine yet earthy.

You couldn’t have been in the car for more than ten minutes, and you curse yourself, realizing that you really didn’t get as far as you thought.

Then, you approach a long driveway, adorned with a large iron gate that would intimidate anyone that made it to this part of the city, encased in grime and rust that’s indicative of its age. The car drives down the winding roads with familiarity which puts you at ease and keeps you from feeling nauseous, which you feel grateful for. When you arrive at the front of the house, you are finally given the opportunity to take a look at where you have been staying, as previous circumstances hadn’t allowed you to do so.

The exterior of the house is a little dreary, the age of the cracked brick and marble noticeable. Even in the dark you could tell everything else is well-taken care of, well-trimmed shrubbery and flower beds surprising you. You don’t get as much time to look around as you would like, though you do notice the sheer size of the house as you follow the men up the gravel pathway. Large front doors open up and you’re guided inside.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You and Felix walk in silence to your room. You’re almost ashamed to meet his eye.

“How did you know where to find me?” you finally ask.

“I came to bring you this,” he says, gesturing to what he had been holding. A hard brace for your wrist. “When I came to your room and you weren’t there, I panicked. You couldn’t have gotten far, but we jumped in the car right away.”

“But… What about what Hyunjin said?” You ask. Meanwhile he starts to unwrap the bandage on your wrist, revealing the very swollen and purple affected area. You wince slightly.

“About it being a test? I wouldn’t be surprised, you’re probably in deep shit with Chris.” He says. You notice that he uses a nickname when referring to the man but you don’t say anything. He pulls out a first aid kit and starts to sanitize the surface of your skin and it stings more than you’d like to admit. Still, he does so delicately, making sure his fingers don’t press onto your injury too harshly. “I didn’t think you would leave,” he admits. “It was really stupid, you do realize that, right? I was just… really hoping you would be smarter than that.”

You scoff. “Stupid, got it. I’m sorry that I didn’t want to stay trapped with the mafia, but I saw my opportunity. I have a life out there I want to get back to! I can’t stay here for the rest of my life.”

“That may be true, but you won’t have a life to get back to if you’re killed the moment you leave,” he points out. “I’m not trying to be malicious, but you have a huge target on your back. Even if it’s not Jungwon who comes for you, you’re affiliated with ENHA. People who are not as kind as we are will see you as a way to get to him and they’ll kill you in cold blood.” He delicately places the new brace onto your wrist, strapping it shut tight. You try not to think about how his touch lingers on your skin, that you can still feel where he touched you and how it makes your face heat up. Instead you try to flex your wrist to test the brace, finding that it provides enough support for you not to move it too intensely. Felix hums in approval.

“Come with me,” he says. He takes you to the bathroom and gestures for you to sit on the toilet lid. You do, looking up at him inquisitively. You see that he has brought the first aid kit with him and he’s keen on tending to your other injuries.

“I just don’t understand,” you say, breaking the silence. He takes an antiseptic wipe and starts to wipe away scratches on your head. “Just… Why do you care if I live or die?”

“That’s a tough one,” he says. You can’t tell if he’s joking. “I guess you can say I don’t like Yang Jungwon. Our feud with them has lasted for several years and he’s just a nuisance. He kills people in cold blood and is remorseless. I’m sure you’ve seen it first hand just how manipulative he can be, and we really just want to make sure that he doesn’t do anything to undermine us. That being said, you’re a benefit to SKZ. I know you might not see it yet, but you might be the ticket we need to finally one-up them. If you’re dead then we’re back to an even playing field.”

“What about the infiltration? Don’t you have plans with Lee Know?” you ask.

“Oh, Minho? He’s a very skilled person, he excels at this kind of thing. We’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while and we finally have an opportunity to do so. I hear that they’re planning to start up an underground drug-ring, something that would put us both in the public eye more than we want. Minho is going to try to find out what he can about it and then we can proceed.”

Felix bends down, kneeling before you. Your breath hitches before you can think about it; it’s not fitting for someone who looks so majestic to be below you, you think.

He starts to clean the scrapes on your knees. They’re bloody and raw from your fall and you’re only now starting to feel the aftereffects from it. You’re grateful that he’s taking the time to tend to your injuries, scanning your entire body from head to toe until he’s content. “You’re too good for all of this,” he finally says. “Someone like you should have never gotten involved in our lifestyle. You have so much potential, I can just see it. How did you even get stuck in this life?” The question is so intimate that it takes you a moment to process that he asked it.

“I didn’t know who he was when I started dating him,” you admit. “Like you said, he’s manipulative. He’s mastered the art of deception. When I met him, he was charming and sweet, you know? It feels dumb to say, but by the time he admitted to me he was part of the mafia, I was head over heels in love with him. By the time I realized that the Jungwon I knew was just a facade it was too late, he caused me to completely rely on him for everything. I lost everything, Felix.” He nods in understanding, looking up at you before he stiffens.

“Your neck… Did he do that, too?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his voice. You realize that the makeup you applied so diligently before must have completely rubbed off by now. You sigh.

“Yeah. The night Chan found me, Jungwon and I got into a fight. It was my fault, but he threatened me, and it got physical, and…”

“I don’t know what happened, but I severely doubt it could have been your fault,” he says. You decide not to divulge the details of your argumentThis is the first time you have admitted the situation out loud, and you feel very vulnerable. For some reason, you really want to tell Felix, despite the tears threatening to spill from your lashes.

“He knocked me unconscious outside of the club, and when I woke up, I was here.” He finishes bandaging up your injuries and he stands, stretching his back and popping his joints. There’s blood on his white dress shirt. Your blood, though you don’t remember how it got there.

“When you left tonight, where were you planning to go? You weren’t going–”

“Not back to him, God no. Um… I have a sister, I was just trying to get in touch.” He seems content with your answer. You wonder if he’s just going to relay all of that information back to Chan. You feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, though, so you can’t really bring yourself to care.

“I don’t know how long you’re going to be here. But for now, this is the safest place for you. So, try not to do anything else that’s stupid.” He turns to the door to leave, but you find yourself calling out.

“Felix?” He halts and his eyes meet yours as you call his name. “Thank you.” There’s a lot of meaning to convey with just two words, but you hope you get your point across; thank you, for saving my life, for talking with me, for treating my wounds. He seems to understand. He graces you with a small smile before leaving

You take a minute to breathe and look at yourself in the mirror. You are definitely not the same person you were two days ago. You smile at the reflection of yourself that has been beaten and bruised, and you hardly recognize her. You open the door to retreat to your bedroom for the night, but are shocked by what you see.

For the second time in one night, Bang Christopher Chan sits on your bed, waiting expectantly.

“We need to talk,” he says.

He looks pissed. His glare sends shivers straight up your spine, and it takes everything for you to not break down and cry on the spot. It makes you feel guilty for everything that happened tonight, but you have to shake that thought. You were justified, you need to stand strong. You sit on the bed next to him without him gesturing for you to do so, as it feels like what he wants. You aren’t stupid enough to disobey him again.

You look him in the eye.

“I’d like to think I’m a kind person,” he says. “I don’t ask much of you–”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupt.

“Speak when spoken to. I won’t tell you again.” He clears his throat. “I don’t ask much of you. In fact, I gave you just two, simple, commands that you couldn’t be bothered to follow. Do not contact Yang Jungwon, and do not leave. What did you do?” He looks at you but you stay silent. “Answer.”

“I left.”

“That’s right. You must be pretty stupid, Y/N. Stupid enough to somehow end up here, and even more stupid to disobey me. I knew you were going to try to push your luck,” he says. “Explain yourself.”

“I…” you gulp. You decide honesty is the best way to go about this. “I got scared. I know you told me not to leave and I didn’t listen, and I truly apologize but I remembered how trapped I felt when I was with Jungwon, and, well… the prospect of staying here for the rest of my life really really scared me. I wanted to see my sister and tell her I’m alright. My phone is gone, and she probably thinks I’m dead. I envisioned a world where I never got to see her again and make things right, and I thought this would be my only chance.”

He sits in silence for a moment, contemplating. “This will be the last time I extend such kindness to you,” he says slowly. “From here on, I want your complete loyalty to me and the rest of SKZ.I will ensure your safety from ENHA and any potential threat. For now, that’s all you need. If you try to undermine me one more time, I will make sure you never see your sister again. Take that any way you want.” He stands.

“Hyunjin said that this was a test,” you say cautiously. “Are you going to punish me?”

“I thought I made myself very clear that there would be consequences to your actions,” he says. “I will go lightly on you, just this time. I’m being very nice, just so you are aware: I am not usually known by others as a kind person.” He sighs. “Pick a number between one and ten.”

“Um… five?” you say, trying to play it safe and pick a number that’s not too high and not too low. His hands slide down to his waistband, unbuckling his belt and taking it out of the loops.

“Lift your shirt up and turn around.”

You do, with shaky hands, turn around and lift your shirt up so just your back is revealed to Chan. You don’t protest, worrying that that could somehow make things worse.

You steady your breath and brace for impact.

Thwack.

One time, Chan’s leather belt comes down and hits the skin of your back hard. It’s obvious he has no intention of holding back and it stings; you bite down on your bottom lip to suppress your cries.

Thwack.

The second time, just as hard.

Five times Chan hits you hard with your belt and you can’t hold back your tears any longer, though you do stay strong in the decision to not let him see them. After the fifth hit, you stand and pull down your shirt.

“Rest up,” he tells you. “Tomorrow you’ll meet everyone else.”

It’s stupid of you to think about, but you practically disregarded the fact that there are other members you have not met yet. You’re not entirely looking forward to it, though you don’t say so.

“Does everyone know?” you ask him just as he’s about to leave. “Does everyone know that I’m associated with Jungwon?”

“Everyone knows,” he confirms. “I trust my group implicitly. I felt no need to hide it from them, though at this point I don’t think it’s something to be ashamed of.” You nod your head at the information, lost in thought.

Then Chan leaves and you’re finally alone. When you lie down in bed you finally take note of how your body feels after all this time. Every muscle aches and you can’t lay down on your back and once again you ignore the incessant throbbing in your skull. When you lay down in the bed to sleep, it’s on the comfiest, most luxurious mattress that you’ve ever laid on. You stare at the wall until you drift off with a dreamless yet peaceful sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

@rylea08 ; @the-sweetest-rose ; @oddracha ; @kapelover ; @goldenmellow ;

@zerefdragn33l ; @uhh-awkward-rightt ; @astudyoftimeywimeystuff ; @kaleigh-2002 ; @thatonexcgirl ;

@mindfreecreator ; @linoalwaysknows ; @velvetmoonlght ; @minahaeyo ; @crystalchuuu ;

@hash2013 ; @skzswife ; @b0bbl3s ; @thecutiepieme ; @bear8585 ;

@moss-the-man ; @softkisshyunjin ; @sylveonitesworld ; @m00njinnie ; @nicoleparadas ;

@starsofasteria ; @klopez01 ; @luvlinos ; @hyunjinnnnnnnnnnnnnn ;

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nanamisdoe-eyedgf · 1 month ago

Text

MY BEST FRIEND'S BOYFRIEND'S DAD

ft. TOJI FUSHIGURO, characters aged up, MDNI

You didn’t know what to expect—your best friend was finally going to introduce you to her boyfriend. You were excited to meet the guy who made her so happy.

The dinner was planned at her boyfriend’s house, and you were totally lost on what to wear. She suggested something casual since you’d also be meeting her boyfriend’s dad for the first time.

Apparently, it was her first time meeting his dad as well, so she wanted to dress decently, even though her boyfriend reassured her she could wear whatever she liked.

After raiding each other’s wardrobes and mixing and matching, you finally settled on a white button-up shirt, a pleated mini skirt, and black Mary Janes with white socks.

Finally, you and your best friend arrived at her boyfriend’s house. She introduced you, “Megumi, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Megumi.” She glanced between you both, her smile wide.

“Nice to finally meet you,” you said, smiling as you shook his hand.

“You too. I’ve heard a lot about you,” Megumi replied, stepping aside to let you both in.

He led you to the living room, and the three of you started talking, sharing stories and laughs. You learned more about him, how he and your friend met, and how much he cared for her. Seeing your friend with someone so genuine made you happy.

Then, a deep, husky voice interrupted. “You guys planning on sitting there all night, or what?”

The voice was unmistakable, and as you turned, your heart sank. There, leaning casually in the doorway, was Toji. You barely kept your jaw from dropping.

This has to be a mistake…

This can’t be Toji—the same Toji you’d been sneaking around with for the past few months.

The Toji who would always take you to the backseat of his car.

(Flashback)

You and Toji had just walked out of what might have been the most boring movie you’d ever seen. Toji muttered about wasting $15 on the tickets, shaking his head in disbelief as he led you out of the theater and toward his car, his hand firmly holding yours.

“you hungry, girl?” he asked, his gaze lingering on you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“Are you?” you replied, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he said, his gaze lingering on your lips.

“There’s food nearby. We could go grab some—” You pulled out your phone, starting to search for fast food places, when Toji took it from your hand.

“I don’t want any of that,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned closer. “I need you.”

You stared straight ahead, his words sending a shiver down your spine. “I…” you struggled to find your voice, feeling your heart race.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” Toji’s amusement was unmistakable as he leaned in, his warm breath brushing your ear, making you shift in your seat. His fingers traced a light line along your jaw, tilting your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze.

“C’mon, you don’t have to be shy,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “I know exactly what you want.”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks as his thumb brushed your bottom lip, daring you to respond.

You parted your lips, but no words came out, lost in the intensity of his gaze. Toji's thumb lingered, pressing just enough to make your heart skip.

"You don't have to be so quiet," he whispered, leaning even closer. His lips hovered barely an inch from yours, making your breath hitch. "Tell me, what do you want?"

Every thought felt tangled, each heartbeat louder than the last. His hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your head back slightly, his lips ghosting over yours, teasing, waiting.

"I..." you started, voice barely a whisper, "I want you."

Toji chuckled, his mouth curving into a smirk. "That wasn't so hard was it?” And with that, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, and everything you'd been waiting for.

You melted into his touch, letting him take full control—your first mistake.

Toji’s hunger was evident. He smirked and nodded toward the backseat. “Get back there,” he said, voice low and commanding. Obeying, you slid into the back, and he followed right after, shutting the door behind him.

Toji settled in beside you, the air thick with anticipation. He leaned in, his presence enveloping you, leaving no room for hesitation.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asked, his voice low, making your skin tingle.

You swallowed hard, heart racing as you met his gaze. “Y-yes..."

He chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "and good girls deserve a reward,." With a sudden move, he cupped your face, tilting it just enough so that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You’ve been good havent you?," he whispered, nodding your head quickly, he inches closer until his lips hovered just above yours. "Let me take care of you."

With that, he closed the distance, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and hungry. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, deepening the kiss as you lost yourself in the moment. Toji's hands roamed your waist, pulling you closer, and you felt a mix of excitement coursing through your veins.

Toji's touch was possessive, each movement deliberate, and he pulled you even closer until there was barely any space between you.

"You're something else," he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with desire. Without another word, he shifted, leaning back and pulling you to straddle him, his hands guiding you with an effortless confidence.

Your heart pounded as his hands slid up your thighs, his gaze never leaving yours, intense and unwavering. You felt his fingers trace slow circles, against your clothed clit, his touch both teasing and demanding.

"Toji.." you breathed, his name slipping out almost involuntarily, a mix of anticipation and surrender in your voice. You shakely tug at his waistband, he lifts his hips up, tugging down his jeans and boxers.

The force of him sinking you down on his dick makes your lips part and your head fall back.

He smirked, clearly enjoying every second, every reaction he pulled from you.

"Relax, princess," he whispered, his lips brushing your neck, leaving a trail of heat as he feverishly thrusts his hips into you???

“hmm..” you whimper, his pace quickens as he hears those sweet sounds roll of your lips. The graze of his tip hitting your sweet spongy spot sending shivers down your spine—

"Y/N?" Your best friend's voice broke through your thoughts, and she gently shook your shoulder, snapping you back to reality. You cleared your dry throat, feeling a warm flush creeping up your neck as memories from earlier flooded your mind.

"Sorry, yeah." You nodded, following her toward the dining room. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Toji's smirk, his gaze lingering a moment too long, as if he could read exactly what was on your mind.

You all settled around the table— Megumi sitting next to your friend, which left you directly beside Toji.

"The food smells delicious, Mr.Fushiguro," your friend said politely, taking a bite.

Toji chuckled, waving her off. "Oh, come on, girl, you know I didn't cook any of this."

She laughed nervously. "That's fine; I'm not much of a cook myself."

Toji raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You don't cook?"

Your friend shifted slightly, offering a shy smile. "I know a few recipes, but nothing impressive."

Toji simply grunted in response. "Hmm."

"That's enough, Dad." Megumi stepped in, sounding mildly annoyed. "She's my girlfriend, not my mom. I don't need her to cook for me."

Toji let out a low chuckle, leaning back in his chair. "Relax, kid, I'm just asking." His gaze drifted to you, his eyes gleaming with a familiar mischief. "What about you, darlin'? You cook?"

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he already knew the answer, but he was enjoying putting you on the spot. "Uh, yeah, I can cook," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Toji shifted his attention back to Megumi and your friend. "So, where'd you two meet?"

Megumi began telling the story, his tone warm as he recounted their first meeting. You tried to focus, but then you felt Toji's hand slide onto your thigh under the table, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. Your body freezing at the sudden touch, heat rising to your face.

You shot him a quick, warning look, but he only smirked, his hand pressing just enough to keep you hyper-aware of his presence. His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles, hidden from everyone else at the table.

"Y/N, you okay?" your friend asked, noticing your slightly flushed expression.

"Y-yeah," you managed, forcing a smile. "Just... thinking."

Toji's hand remained, his thumb grazing your clit through your panties in slow, teasing strokes, challenging you to keep your composure. He leaned back, looking perfectly at ease, though there was a glint in his eye that told you he was enjoying this far too much— and you did too.

He knew you did, the way he could feel your cunt pulse against his palm, and you squeezing his hand with your thighs.

Meanwhile, Megumi finished his story, and you nodded along, trying your best to look engaged despite having Toji’s finger slide in and out your wet cunt.

Toji’s presence like a constant pulse beside you. Every time you dared glance his way, he’d catch your eye with that smirk, knowing he has you wrapped around his fingers– literally.

Before you could reach the edge, Toji got up and headed to the kitchen, washing his hands thoroughly, then pulled dessert from the fridge.

And with that, the night wrapped up pretty quickly. As you finished the last bites of dessert, Megumi thanked you and your friend for coming. You could tell he was itching to get her alone, sending her those familiar, lingering glances.

You both stood to gather your things, and Toji’s eyes caught yours one last time, a gleam of unspoken words there that made your stomach flutter.

“Thanks for having us, Mr. Fushiguro,” your friend said, her voice slightly breathless with excitement.

Toji leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking at you, every bit as amused as he had at dinner. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice low, almost a purr. “Y’all come back soon.”

You nodded, hoping the heat in your cheeks wasn’t too obvious as you and your friend headed to the door. Just before you stepped out, you felt his hand on your back—a touch so light and quick that it was over before your friend could notice. But it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Once you were outside, the cool evening air was a relief, grounding you and pulling you back to the present. Your friend’s cheerful voice filled the quiet as you walked together, her excitement over dinner spilling out.

“So, what’d you think of his dad?” she asked, her eyes bright with curiosity, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You hesitated, replaying the dinner in your mind, especially that last lingering glance Toji had sent your way. “He seems… nice. He definitely approves of you and Megumi together.”

She beamed, clearly relieved. “Yeah, he’s actually pretty chill. And I mean, I can see where Megumi gets his good looks from.” She nudged your shoulder with a grin.

You laughed, a little too nervously, not sure if you should agree.

“I mean it!” she went on, her laughter bubbling up. “Megumi looks just like his dad. It’s uncanny. Seriously, there’s no way a guy like that is single.”

Your stomach flipped. “Does it matter?” you asked, hoping she wouldn’t catch the hint of tension in your voice.

She shrugged, giving you a sidelong glance. “I’m just saying… he’s pretty handsome for an older guy.”

You forced a laugh, but your mind wandered, and a familiar warmth spread up your neck. The memory of Toji’s hand sliding along your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to remind you he was there, flashed through your mind.

“Maybe he likes the single life,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Or maybe he just hasn’t met the right girl.” She shot you a teasing smile, oblivious to the secret simmering just beneath the surface.

You bit your lip, hoping she didn’t notice how warm your cheeks were getting. “Let’s get going,” you said quickly, hoping to change the subject. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

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rorywritesjunk · 1 year ago

Text

I will never ask you for anything, Except to dream sweet of me

Look, everyone has some kind of secret. You just didn't want Buggy to find this one out. Rating: PGish, honest. Warnings: None really. Girlfriend references making one threat. Buggy feels just a little bit insecure. A/N: I wrote this quick and had fun with it. I wanted some light hearted fluff nonsense. For once no one is having a bad day in this. Song title comes from "Heaven, Iowa" by Fall Out Boy.

Whenever you knew Buggy would be gone for several nights in a row on raids, pillages, and whatever he did when he was gone for nights on end, you made sure you had your own way of coping with missing him. It was hard not having him around in bed to keep you company because hey, you loved that silly guy, but you also had your own needs, and one of those needs was tucked in a box in your side of the wardrobe underneath some shoes. He never looked there because you always put away the laundry, so whenever he was gone you made sure to sneak it out and keep it in bed with you.

You expected him to be gone for four nights total, which was perfect because you knew if he discovered what you had he may be offended or mortified that you used it as a substitute for him. Buggy was sensitive about certain things, you have known this, which is why it was a secret. You never told him what you bought during one of your grocery runs. You couldn’t help it when you saw it. You needed it.

Again, four nights. Buggy wouldn’t be back for four nights. That was fine with you, but what you didn’t expect was him to show up on the third night as a surprise.

It was late when he showed up in your shared quarters. He was a little disappointed to find you asleep, but he took notice that you were in one of his shirts and on his side of the bed, even using his pillow. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and set his captain’s hat on the seat before making his way over to you. You had the covers pulled up to your nose as you slept, looking adorable and peaceful.

Yea, he was definitely going to wake you up because he wanted a kiss.

He pulled the covers back and leaned down, only to freeze when he saw what was clutched to your chest.

“What the fuck is that?” He demanded, waking you up from your slumber. Your head was spinning from the sudden wakeup call and it took you a moment to realize he was standing there.

“Buggy!” You exclaimed as you tried to hide what you didn’t want him to see under the blankets, but he was too fast, snatching it out of your hands as he held it out at arms length, looking a little horrified. “Let me explain!”

“Where did you even get this?!”

“Buggy!”

“I don’t… what is this?!”

“I miss you when you’re gone!” You told him as you scrambled out of bed to try and snatch it from him. He held it out of your reach. “I bought it at the market, okay? Some little old lady was making them!”

He stared at the little plushy that weirdly resembled him, from the orange captain’s hat all the way to his nose. Buggy touched the plushy carefully, turning it over as he inspected it before touching the nose. “Who made this?”

“She based them off wanted posters. She's made a bunch of different pirates.” You huffed as you finally snatched it from him. “I just miss you when you’re gone, so I bought it, but I was embarrassed and didn’t want you to get weirded out, okay?” You poked him hard in the chest accusingly. “And you said you’d be gone for four nights, Buggy! Why are you home a night early? I didn’t want you to know about this!”

“We finished early.” He said, his eyes never leaving the little plushy in your hands. “And I missed you.”

You pouted at him. “Well, I missed you too. I always miss you. So I have this little Buggy to hold while I think of you, but I’m never going to ask you to stay when you gotta go do stuff, okay?”

“That’s not to replace me, right?” He asked, pointing at it.

“What? No!” You told him. “I’d never replace you!”

He reached for it and you hesitated for a moment before handing it over to him. You didn’t want him to wreck it because you adored it, but you also didn’t want him to be too weirded out by it. “Look, if you really don’t like it, I’ll get rid of it…”

“No, I don’t want you to get rid of it.” He said as he looked it over again. The construction of it was pretty durable, and the clothes were made to come off if desired. He touched the nose, finding it held on by just a few stitches. He frowned at that.

You hesitated when you saw he noticed that little detail. “I told her she needed to add your nose. She… didn’t include it when I picked it up so I told her to add it or else.”

“Or else?” He glanced up at you with a bit of a smirk. “Threatening old ladies now, babe?”

“It wasn’t you without the nose, Buggy!” You shot back as your cheeks flushed, both from the slight embarrassment of this whole situation and from recalling the conversation with the old woman. “She didn’t think it was necessary and we argued, and finally I told her to add the nose or else she wouldn’t have a booth anymore.” You huffed. “I may have overreacted, but I love it.”

He flicked the nose of the toy before handing it back over to you. “Keep it on your nightstand if you want, I guess.”

You took it back and gave it a hug. “Really?”

“However, If I catch you hugging it while I’m home and in bed with you then I’m torching it.” He warned you.

“Ass.” You retorted with a grin. “I love you.”

“Yea, whatever.” He muttered as he took it out of your hands and tossed it on the bed before grabbing you and pulling you in for a kiss. He mumbled against your lips, “Love you too, babe.”

btw if you've never seen the Buggy plushy this is what inspired this because I bought it and it's so ridiculously cute.

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy opla #buggy x you #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy

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syoddeye · 5 months ago

Text

bespoke

ghost x transmasc!reader | 1k words tags: brief, mild mentions of transphobic experiences. simon riley's terrible and dirty jokes. brief scene at the end with makeshift restraints. otherwise, fluff. a/n: got hit with a wave of dysphoria. wrote this. bon appétit. 💀

He ties your tie. Insists.

It’s not like you don’t know how. You do. You walked a tightrope for years. Lived through the height of twee and dapper, collected and wore neckties and bowties unironically. Tried and suffered through all types of aesthetics and accessories to find your style. But this is the first big to-do since you hard launched your ‘new’ identity. The first time you’ll wear such an outfit where you don’t force a laugh or tightly smile as others call it a gimmick or costume. Where your family isn’t around to call it the ‘offbeat’ fashion of a quirky niece or an eccentric daughter.

When you dressed, hands shaking with excitement, perhaps you messed up the knot. It looked passable. You weren’t about to ask him to check it. A lifetime of teasing and backhanded compliments led to a fierce independent streak. Nobody could pester you if they couldn’t get close. ‘Course, nobody could help, either.

But because it’s him, you allow it.

It’s been a long, lonely road. Worth it, though, in the end. To find and carve out your path. To meet the man who’s served as your most steadfast support, confidant, and protector. Whose hands smooth your lapels and straighten the knot. Whose eyes catch you staring and soften when he sees how glassy yours look.

“We don’t have to go.”

“I want to.”

“You’re upset.”

“Believe me, I’m not. Far from it.”

You wipe a pesky tear and survey yourself in the mirror. The secondhand suit fits like a glove, modified to perfection. The result of someone’s pestering. An indulgence difficult to accept when originally agreed upon but a triumph in the moment. It pays its dividends in confidence, making you stand straighter and feel as though you might float.

Simon bends, tucking his chin over your shoulder. The silk mask obscuring his face matches his suit, pure black, of course. His eyes drag down your reflections as his arms thread under yours, tugging you backward into his chest.

“We clean up nice.”

“One of us does.” You smile, a bit pained from his continued sweetness. “I look like I raided my dad’s wardrobe.”

You regret it the moment you say it because you know how stupid it sounds. Hours of tailoring and craft adorn you. Enough care and attention to detail for it to appear completely bespoke and custom—not stolen or borrowed.

A big hand skirts up, fingers and thumb slotting over your face. He gently squeezes your cheeks. A habit when he thinks you’re acting foolish or chirping incessantly. He presses until your lips fold in an artificial pout.

“You got a mouth tonight.”

“‘M told s’good f’kissing.” You force out, not bothering to even try and remove his hand.

Simon squishes your cheeks a moment longer, staring hard in the mirror. Studying. He lets go and presses his lips to your temple.

“Think you’re funny?”

“You usually laugh.”

“Not when you joke at your own expense.”

The pout that appears on your face is genuine this time, and so is the instinct to flee. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to run away from the kindness of Simon Riley. It’s certainly not the first time he flexes his muscle, molding himself to you.

“Settle. Talk t’me.”

You shake your head and try to squirm free despite knowing all the good that’ll do.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

“Then we’ll be late.”

“To a wedding? Simon we can’t be the people that walk in after the bride.”

“I’ll walk her down myself if ya don’t start talkin’.”

It’s anyone’s guess how serious he is about that. Erring on the side of caution, you fuss a second more, then finally voice the fears eating you alive. The laundry list of worst-case scenarios and what-ifs. Your thoughts bend to dread like flowers track the sun.

“If anythin’ happens, we’ll handle it. Together.” Simon pinches your hips. “Or alone, in the small hours, after I drop you at home.”

That isn’t a joke. Simon doesn’t make empty threats. Not about that.

“Simon—“

“How many times do I gotta tell you, to get it through your skull, hm?” He murmurs, littering emphatic kisses over the side of your head. Nipping your neck. If he wasn’t holding you, you’d be a puddle.

“You can’t get rid of me. You got me, love. Let me worry about the hard things.” A squeak tears out when a broad hand skims down the front of your suit and cups the front of your trousers. His grip pulses over the packer, and you nearly skyrocket through the ceiling. “If you’re good and check in with me like you’re supposed to, I’ll have a nice hard thing for you later.”

To save face, as if you aren’t practically drooling at that, you shoot him a look in the mirror. Wrinkle your nose and curl your lip. The glint in your eye is unmistakable, however.

“Simon,” You groan in feigned disgust. “You’re terrible.”

“Don’t I know it. C’mon.” He releases you entirely, stepping back to adjust himself and his shirt collar in the mirror. “Price’ll kill me if we’re late.”

Hours later, back home after a night of celebration, he ties your tie.

Tight enough to keep your wrists together, loose enough to feel safe. He strips you slowly and thoughtfully. Takes his time setting each element aside. He inflicts sweet torture, showering you with praise and echoing compliments paid to you at the reception.

So handsome. Lookin’ braw. Don’t let the bride see ya.

Usually, such words would do you in. Gnaw and bite like flies, make you assume the worst. Assume people were just being polite and lying. But…Simon wouldn’t lie. As he looms over you, hooking a leg with one arm and bracketing your head with the other, he tells you to settle. Reminds you to let him worry about the hard things.

And because it’s him, you allow it.

#ghost x reader #ghost x transmasc!reader #anyway. another case of 'i wrote this for me but maybe you too'.#okay dropping this and scurrying away at max speed byeeee

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wintaerbaer · 1 year ago

Text

things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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