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selfcarecap · 7 months ago

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✧ Manipulative best friend!Logan with a corruption kink

warnings: smut 18+, this is not a dark fic, Logan isn’t truly manipulative but we have a very naive/innocent/inexperienced reader; first time masturbation, JOI, handjob, fingering (in front of a mirror), first kiss, pet names (bub, baby, my girl, good girl), Logan doesn’t always fully ask for consent but if he did reader would want it, so those are the type of vibes, Logan takes advantage of the situation but reader is into him too, it’s implied that reader is a mutant too but powers are not specified, mentions of alcohol, reader wears Logan’s (big) shirt, Logan is a bit gross

This kind of got out of hand lmaoo it was just supposed to just be a short concept but I ended up writing 5.5k words lolll. It’s not a fully fleshed out fic (it’s in full sentences etc but still just kind of loosely written scenes) but I thought I’d still share <33 (gorgeous divider by @anitalenia <3)

Logan knows he wants you from the moment he meets you. He knows he needs you the second you come to the mansion and join the school. But you’re so shy and nervous that he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he tells himself he’ll wait for a bit and let you get used to your new life here first.

What he isn’t expecting is that you become really good friends in the meantime. Yes, he still wants to fuck you but he also genuinely enjoys your company and cares about you. Logan has a big, fat crush on you and there’s not really anything he won’t do in order to be closer to you.

But the problem is that you’re so innocent and he can’t tell if it’s an act, if you just don’t like talking about sex in front of other people, or if you’re really like this.

He hears you talking to Storm and Jean one night and Storm is trying to convince you to get a vibrator and you’re asking “what would I need that for? I don’t… y’know”. Storm says “you don’t what? Masturbate?”.

Logan knows exactly what shy expression you’re making even though he can’t see you, and you’re all like “oh my god, don’t say it that loud”. And he knows your pretty face must be getting all hot with embarrassment and the thought alone turns Logan on to no end. It’s quiet for a bit and Logan gathers that Jean reads your mind, and she confirms to Storm that you’re not lying.

Logan can only hear the conversation because he’s in the kitchen and you’re all in the room next to it, but some students come in so he can’t keep eavesdropping, as much as he wants to. And he knows there’s no way you’re continuing the conversation if he’s in the room, so he has to give up for the night. He tries to ask Storm the next day about what you said and she just calls him a pervert and says to ask you himself if he wants to know so badly.

But that’s kind of the thing. He’s become your best friend over the last few months, but there are still some things you’d never tell him just because he’s a guy, even if you don’t see him as more than a friend. Yet.

And Logan only gets more desperate when you’re drunk one evening after a girl’s night and you’re knocking at his door. It’s really late but Logan lets you in of course. You’re crying a bit and he makes you sit in his bed and takes off your shoes and slides off your jacket while you hiccup something unintelligible.

He sits down with you and you can barely focus on what you’re saying, and then you get up mumbling about your uncomfortable tights and your skirt and suddenly you’re in front of him in just a top and panties. Logan has to gulp down a moan as he stares at the flesh of your thighs and the rolls on your belly and all he can think about is devouring you whole – until he hears you mention the conversation with Storm and Jean from the other day, “wait, what was that?”

You pout, “Well I was talking to them and turns out apparently I’m the only woman in the world that doesn’t masturbate and– and Jean went home to Scott, and Storm went home with someone she met at the bar and I’ve never even done anything with a guy, not even with myself. I just feel left behind.”

And Logan tells you something about how you’re just a late bloomer and there’s still time, because that’s what he thinks you want to hear, but you tell him it’s condescending. You don’t want to be a late bloomer, you just want to have sex. And oh– Logan can help you with that.

He has to do his absolute best to keep calm and not mount you immediately, but you’re drunk so that’s what’s stopping him. He might manipulate you a little to get what he wants but he’s not that bad. He asks “you don’t like touching yourself?” And you just shrug and say “dunno”.

“You never feel an ache between your legs?” Logan asks, keeping so calm it’s painful. And he can practically feel the heat melting off your face at the question as your eyes dart around the room, “I don’t know, sometimes”.

“And you don’t touch yourself?”

You shrug again, looking everywhere but at Logan, “I never really know what people mean when they say that. I, like, touch myself and it feels nice but that’s it.”

Logan smiles, “how long do you touch yourself for?”

“I don’t know, a few seconds.”

And he chuckles and says “it’s normal that you don’t get anywhere in a few seconds, bub.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” you manage to meet his eyes briefly but look away again as you sit on your hands shyly.

“You ever watched porn?” Logan asks and your eyes go wide as if he’s just committed the worst sin known to womankind in front of you and you hug your legs and say “noo, I would never. I’m not, like, a pervert.”

Logan laughs, “Porn isn’t just for perverts. There’s more to it than choking and bondage, there’s tame stuff.” You just say “well I’ve never watched any.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe, I don’t know.”

He can tell you’re getting a bit ashamed and while he would love to train that shame out of you when it comes to sex, now isn’t the time when you’re drunk in his bed at 2AM.

“You wanna go to sleep?” He asks, failing to resist giving a small squeeze to your knee. Your eyes fly to his hand there, gaze lingering on his fingers even as he pulls them away. You nod after a few moments, and Logan reaches out to wipe away the remnants of your tears and says “you wanna sleep in my bed? We could cuddle”.

You grin like a child who’s just tried ice cream for the first time at his suggestion and he gives you a bigger shirt of his so you don’t have to sleep in that small, tight top you’re wearing. You pull off your top without warning and then he’s looking at you in just your underwear and he feels like he’s died and ascended to heaven even though he’s probably more likely to go to hell with the thoughts he’s having about you right now.

You cast a shy glance over your shoulder as you undo your bra and Logan wills himself to shut his eyes, putting his hand over them because he knows otherwise he’d look.

He only wants to fuck you more when he sees you in his shirt though, and he’ll definitely have to go to the bathroom to jerk off once you’ve fallen asleep. Except that you snuggle against his side so cutely, head resting on his shoulder with a leg thrown over his.

You’re fast asleep before he can even say good night and when he moves to get up you move closer, and now he’s got your plush tits pressed up against his side and your arm over his waist. A tent has formed in his pants and he feels pathetic that he’s measuring the distance between your elbow and his crotch, silently willing you to move just a few inches.

He’s so horny that he’d feel no moral qualms at jerking off right next to you. He’d cum so quickly with you pressed to his side, but he wouldn’t know how to explain it if you woke up. He doesn’t want to scare you away. So he pulls away to get up, and you wake up and whine when he stands up, telling you he just has to pee to which you grumble, and you grab his pillow to cuddle with instead.

He jerks off shamelessly, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His spit slicked-palm is starting to get loud as he strokes his cock to thoughts of you, but he doesn’t care if you hear. You probably wouldn’t know what he’s doing anyway with how innocent you are.

He doesn’t even have to fantasise about any sexual scenario with you. Thinking about the pretty smile you have whenever you look at him is enough to have his fists drenched in his cum as he jerks himself off with both hands to stroke his entire length.

He can’t hold back the small moan that spills over his lips when he cums, torn between hoping you heard and hoping you didn’t. Logan washes his hands and rejoins you in bed.

He takes a moment before he slips under the covers, taking in the sight of you in his bed, imagining you’re his and that it’s the norm for you to sleep together rather than an exception. You stir as the mattress dips with his weight, swapping the pillow of his that was clutched between your arms for his bicep that you hold onto instead. You’re way too gone to have heard any of what he just did, and for a moment he feels dirty for thinking about you the way that he does.

It doesn’t last long, of course, as he dreams of you most nights. He can’t feel bad about it though – he’ll take any dream over one of his nightmares (that he hasn’t had since he met you). And if he’s honest it turns him on how innocent and unsuspecting you are of what goes on in his head when he thinks of you.

You wake up still wrapped around his body the next morning. You have a headache and Logan brings you something to soothe it, offering to massage your stiff neck too. You sigh in bliss as soon as Logan’s hands are on you, and he reminds himself that you must be touch-starved. You’ve never touched yourself, let alone felt the touch of another person that went beyond platonic or familial affection.

He revels in the sounds he pulls from you with ease with the most basic massaging technique there is. He never wants to leave. He started off hovering over the back of your thighs, but he’s been making his way forwards and now his crotch is nestled right against the soft swell of your ass. You either don’t notice that he’s slowly moved or you don’t realise what exactly is pressing into your backside.

It’s obvious that you’re enjoying his hands on the back of your neck and the top of your shoulders; he doubts there’s anything that could distract you from it. Except if he got hard maybe, but he’s got more self control since he jerked off in the bathroom again after waking up with morning wood and with you by his side, just before he brought you some painkillers.

“You’re so good with your hands, Logan,” you tell him, voice all raspy, and he smirks at the innuendo you don’t realise you’re making.

“It’s what my girl deserves,” he says, pulling a smile and a hum from your lips.

“I’m your girl?” you ask shyly, eyes still closed as his knuckles drag over your skin.

“O’course you are, bub.” He’s not sure in what way you interpret the pet name but he can tell you like it, hearing how your heartbeat speeds up just that little bit. You like being his, and he likes that.

It’s during a particularly horny evening that Logan comes to your room. He’s jerked off twice today to pictures of you — pictures he’s snuck over the time he’s known you, you smiling as you laugh at a tv show, stretching on the sofa not realising that he’s got his phone out, or that one photo of you smiling all shyly on the day you first met him and he showed you around the mansion. Jean asked to take a picture to commemorate the day you joined them, and he remembers the way he slid his arm around the back of your waist and you placed your hand shyly on his back, smiling all adorably.

He’s got a picture of you in a bikini from that one time you two went swimming but he keeps that for special occasions. Today was one of those special occasions, and he came all over his phone screen, cursing when he had to clean it afterwards; he even had to get the phone case off and all.

But you still won’t leave his head for even just a second, so he decides it’s time for the next step. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with anything, but he also just really wants you. Can’t help it. He’s a selfish man but any man would be if he knew you the way Logan did. He knocks at your door. “Yeah?” you call out.

You grin when he steps in and closes the door behind himself. You stretch out your arms for a hug to greet him, even though you only saw him a few hours ago. He joins you where you’re sitting on your bed with your laptop. Logan turns the screen towards him, hoping to find something naughty but he should have known better. It’s just some video essay on a topic he’s never even heard of. He shuts the laptop.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you tell him, genuinely focussed, “If I’m your girl then what are you to me? My boy sounds weird, and my man.. I don’t know.”

He almost forgot that he called you his girl to your face, and he smirks when he imagines you thinking about it these past few days. He lies down on his side, invading your space, almost touching you with how close he is next to you.

“I can be anything you like, bub.”

You shrug shyly, “Maybe you’re just my Logan.”

He’s surprised at how much that turns him on. You being his, that’s one thing. But him being yours? Those two things go hand-in-hand, of course, but he thought you were still a long way off from liking him as much as he likes you.

It encourages him to ask you what he’s been thinking about for days. He says it casually. “So, had any success touching yourself?” He uses that tame expression so that you’re less embarrassed.

Still, your eyes widen slightly and you immediately start playing with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” he smirks, “Don’t gotta be embarrassed around me. We’ve been over this.” Although, for a second he wonders if you even remember the conversation. You were drunk after all, and he considers feeling bad, but then you smile.

“I know, but… I haven’t tried it since. I’ve thought about it but I still don’t know what to do.” He’s got you right where he wants.

“Y’know, I don’t mind showing you. You deserve to feel good.”

You look away, “What would you even show me? And how? Guys are different down there.” Oh, you’re so innocent. He’s having so much fun.

“I could touch you.” He watches you experience a multitude of emotions as you think about it. Shame, intrigue, resolve.

“Wouldn’t that be weird for you?”

“Not at all, don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, bub.”

You look around you, putting your laptop and your phone on your nightstand, “What do I do?” you ask, playing with the blanket.

“I’ll just touch you a bit, okay? Just get you used to the feeling,” he tells you, both of you sitting up and he pulls your legs around his waist, gently touching all over your inner thighs, squeezing the flesh.

You’re already arching your back, scooting closer to him, and he lifts your shirt up over your hip and sees the wet spot on your panties. He’s not sure if you notice how hard he is under his sweatpants but no one could blame him for that. You’re getting so worked up and he hasn’t even touched you anywhere near your pussy, you’re breathing so heavily and your heart is beating so fast.

“Y’want a kiss, bub?” Logan asks you all sweetly, and you lean in as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your lips on his are messy but eager, and Logan loves that he can feel that it’s your first kiss. You don’t know what you’re doing but you need it – need him.

But he has to stop at some point because it’s getting harder to not fuck you, so he gently pulls away, and you grin shyly when the kiss is over. Logan leans in one more time for a quick kiss. He pushes you backwards a bit and looks between your spread thighs. You’re so wet. You’re squirming under his gaze.

“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at the waistband of your panties and your breathing gets shaky when his finger grazes your belly. You bite your lip and nod.

“Good girl,” he says, pulling your underwear down your thighs with one hand, eyes glued to your pussy. You’re so wet and sticky already, and your pussy looks even better than anything he’s imagined – and he’s imagined it a lot.

He wants nothing more than to fuck you, or eat you out at least, but he’s supposed to be showing you how to masturbate, so he lies down next to you.

“So, if you were alone, you might touch yourself like this.” He takes his hand between your thighs, softly touching your clit. You’re leaning into him, head against his shoulder as you watch his big hand between your thighs. It looks so right there. You look to your side and gaze up at Logan, and you can’t help but just kiss him again.

And while you’re kissing, Logan puts his palm on your pussy and starts rubbing you a bit rougher, and you become too distracted to keep kissing him.

“You like when I play with your clit?” he teases you and you nod, hiding your face in his neck. Logan moves down to fuck one of his fingers into you, then two, and you’re whimpering against his warm skin. With his palm still rubbing against your clit, you have your first ever orgasm with Logan and you hold onto him as the pleasure flows through your body.

He keeps going until you put your hand around his wrist to stop him and you shyly smile up at him. “Was that good, bub?”

You answer with a weak “yeah”, your voice hoarse but you’re smiling and your skin is glowing. Logan pulls his hand away and shows you how your arousal sticks to his fingers, and your eyes search his because you’re not sure if this is a good or bad thing.

Your mouth opens when Logan takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks your taste off them. “Taste so fucking good, baby. You wanna taste yourself?” And he waits patiently until you’ve made your mind up but you nod and let him put one of his fingers into your warm, wet mouth. You suck on it for much longer than necessary and Logan tries to save the image in his brain for later.

He holds you for a bit as you comprehend that you’ve just had an orgasm for the first time in your life. You shyly thank him before he leaves and he makes you promise that you’ll try it again by yourself soon. That was the whole point of this, after all – nothing to do with Logan or anything.

Logan thought he’d be satisfied for a bit, but all it’s done is make him even needier for you. You’re so oblivious to all his flirting, and he’s sure you genuinely thought he just wanted to show you how to masturbate the other day.

Of course, he could just ask you out, but it’s more fun this way. He likes watching you figure stuff out. He wonders how long it’ll take you to realise that he actually likes you, that teaching you how to jerk off maybe wasn’t only in your best interest but in his too.

He’s a bit pathetic when it comes to you at this point, though. As much as he’s teasing you, it’s also teasing him. It’s a bit of a low point, but he pretends to be in a bad mood to get your attention.

You come to his room in the late afternoon when you haven’t seen him all day, and you’re so kind and so caring and immediately worried when you see him sprawled in bed in his pyjamas that consist of grey sweatpants and a white shirt.

“You okay? What happened?” you close the door and sit on his bed immediately.

Logan fake sighs, suppressing a smile as he pouts exaggeratedly. “Nothing, bub. Don’t you worry about me.” He squeezes your knee to reassure you, and he watches you perk up at his touch.

“You know you can always talk to me,” you smile kindly, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He doesn’t usually talk about emotions and feelings all that much, but you’re always trying to get him to open up because it’s good for him, so he knows he’s got you with this.

“I’m just feeling a bit down today. That’s all. Don’t wanna bother you with my problems.”

“You’re not bothering me. I’m always here for you.”

He watches you gnawing on your lip as you think about what to say next, and Logan waits curiously. “Have you uh, jerked off today? I think an orgasm would cheer anyone up, if it feels as good as you made me feel the other day.”

And Logan’s all like “I’ve tried but it’s been so long since a woman touched me, and my own hand just isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

He gets hard immediately when you perk up, smiling with your sweet expression and saying, “I could help you! I hate seeing you so sad”.

And Logan pretends, saying “no, bub, I’d never ask that of you,” but you sit up on your knees and say “I really wouldn’t mind! And I owe you for last time anyway.”

“If you’re really sure?”

You nod sweetly and brush your hair out of your face and ask, “where do you want me?”

And even just you asking that is something that will stay in his mind for a long time. He feels like you’d do anything he asked of you right now and it’s already driving him crazy. He says “just next to me here, bub. Yeah there is fine”.

You lean in to kiss him and he only pulls away out of surprise, and you’re blinking back at him with wide eyes, apologising, “It’s just cause you kissed me last time, I thought— I thought it’s part of–”

“Yeah, baby, it is. Just didn’t know if you wanted to kiss me again.”

You give him a cheeky smile and nod, “of course I wanna kiss you. You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you”.

Logan grins and bites his lip and says “me too, bub”, and leans in and kisses you again, basically attacking you with his mouth. He can tell it’s getting a little much for you with the way he’s eating you alive so he stops himself and asks “was that too much?”

You shake your head, “just don’t know how to kiss like that yet.” And he likes that. Yet. Maybe he can sneak in some kissing lessons at some point, just to show you how it’s done of course, no other reason.

You look down at his lap then and it’s obvious how hard he is. “Y’wanna you touch it like this first?” he asks you, grabbing himself over his sweatpants, the outline becoming clearer.

And you nod so eagerly, but get a bit shy when you’re touching his cock, one of your knees pulled up to your chest as you palm him over his sweatpants. “It’s so big,” you marvel, oblivious to how much this is affecting Logan.

“You wanna see?”

You tell him yes and he pulls the waistband down, and you lean closer when he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking himself just a few times to relieve the pressure.

You bring a finger to his mouth like he did for you the other day, and he chuckles, “that won’t be enough, bub”. Your cheeks burn when you say “oh”.

“Here,” he moves your hand so your open palm is facing him and he spits into it.

“Now do this,” Logan tells you, taking your hand and wrapping it around his cock, guiding you up and down with your spit-slicked palm. You watch in awe as you jerk him off, his hand never leaving the back of yours.

He could cum immediately like this, but he tries to savour the feeling a bit longer.

“Does it feel good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, doing so well, bub. Think you can do it by yourself?”

You shake your head with a smile. Yes, you could do it by yourself, but you like the feeling of him guiding you, setting the pace and intensity. He grins and continues, squeezing your hand tighter so that your grip on his cock tightens too.

Logan lets you jerk him off a bit longer before he gives in. He’s proud of you for not pulling away in surprise when he cums, coating your hand and his in his cum as ropes of white shoot over your skin and onto his shirt. He lets go of your hand to pull off his shirt and watches you examine your hand full of Logan’s cum.

“Can I taste it?” you ask in a quiet voice, and Logan just about gets hard again.

“Yeah,” he tells you, but pushes his own fingers into your mouth. Your lips wrap around his two fingers and suck the cum off, and Logan can’t help but push them further into your mouth, making you giggle. You pull his hand away after a bit, only to lick your own fingers. He uses the clean part of his shirt to dry your hand off after, and you lie down to cuddle him.

“Do you feel better?”

Logan chuckles, “Yeah, bub, I feel better. Thanks.”

“Good,” you grin, proud of yourself. Logan’s proud of you too.

It’s still the same day when you come to his room the next time. You left after a bit to go to sleep, but now there are knocks on Logan’s door that he recognises as yours before you say anything.

You enter his room in your pyjamas – a big shirt – and some fluffy socks, a plushie under your arm. You look so oh so innocent that he almost feels bad for corrupting you. You come in, close the door, and sit on his bed again, legs dangling off the side of it. He could really get used to you being in here.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, but you ignore him, hugging your plushie for comfort.

“I… can you maybe…” you let out a sigh, “I tried to masturbate but I can’t do it by myself. Can you show me again?”

Maybe you’re not so innocent anymore. He chuckles and tells you of course, and he’s starting to wonder if you’ve caught on to the game that he’s playing, and if you’ve joined him, but he’d still bet money that you really are this naive. Logan pulls his full length mirror in front of his bed, not too close, but close enough that you can see yourself in it.

He moves to lift your shirt to get your panties off, and his heart skips a beat as he’s greeted by the sight of your bare pussy, already glistening.

“It was easier to come with them already off,” you say, and he reaaally has to restrain himself so he doesn't bend you over and take you right here.

You drop your stuffed toy to the side of Logan’s bed as he sits you in front of the mirror, getting behind you, putting his legs either side of you.

“God, you’re so pretty.” He can’t stop himself from saying it as he makes you look at yourself in the mirror, legs spread.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Logan,” you say, shying away from looking in the mirror.

“You can do it, bub. I got you, okay?”

You’ve turned around to look at him better, and he chuckles when he gets it.

“Is this what you need?” he asks as he leans in to kiss you, and you moan yes into his mouth. He loves you so fucking much.

His dick is already so hard and he’s not sure if you can feel it pressing into your ass, but either way you’re not complaining. He takes your chin to make you face yourself in the mirror, and he can’t get enough of seeing you two in it together – the way he’s sitting behind you like this, imagining other positions you two could be in.

“Here,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, even though you’re already wet enough, watching you suck on it eagerly. His finger stays in your mouth much longer than necessary.

He starts gently rubbing your clit in circles, and you squirm in his arms that are around you, one on your waist, the other between your legs.

“I did that too, but it feels better when you do it,” you mumble after a while, clearly enjoying it but unsure what you were doing wrong when you did it yourself.

“Try it.” Logan takes your hand, and makes you do it yourself. You’re squirming with him watching you like this, but it is useful to sit in front of the mirror, copying how he played with your pussy just moments ago.

Logan’s not blind to how wet you are, at having him watching and guiding you, and he can’t help it as he reaches into his boxers to jerk off. He doesn’t get his cock out but he’s not hiding it. You can see the movement of his arm in the mirror and you might even be able to feel it at your back, as Logan’s fist grazes your shirt every now and then as he strokes himself.

But you’re so focussed on looking between your own legs that Logan is genuinely not sure if you’ve noticed him jerking off, and the sounds of your wet pussy are louder than his hand on his cock.

“I… I can’t,” you whine after a bit, taking your hand away from your pussy, but Logan is close, and he wants you to cum too.

He keeps jerking off, and he sees you noticing it, sitting up a bit taller but you don’t seem to mind. You’re smiling, biting your lip.

“Yeah, you can, baby. Here, we’ll do it together.” He keeps a hand on his cock, reaching around you to put your hand back between your legs, and then he pushes two of his fingers into your pussy, fucking you with them.

“You close, bub? I’m close,” he says, and the idea of cumming together with Logan makes your pussy squeeze around his fingers, so you do your best to recreate the pattern on your clit that Logan showed you, rubbing it in circles until you get the right angle.

“Good girl, that’s it. So tight around my fingers. Come on now.” Logan’s so close he has no idea how he’s still holding off, sloppily jerking his cock with one hand and fucking your pussy with his fingers on the other hand.

You lean your head back, landing on Logan’s shoulder, as your orgasm pulses through you. Logan can feel your pussy spasming around him, and he lets go too, cumming over his hand and his boxers.

You’re both out of breath for a while after, barely moving.

“Y’did it, bub,” he kisses the top of your head, and you smile at him through the mirror, turning to press a messy kiss to the side of his face. He won’t take that though, so he grabs your face, smearing some of his cum on your cheek, and pulls you to face him for a proper kiss. You smile against his mouth as you make out.

You sleep in his room again that night, but he can’t say it feels like you know that he likes you yet. He’ll have fun watching you figure it out soon.

✧ reblog and let me know your thoughts for Logan to appear in your dreams tonight <3

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #fem!reader #selfcarecap

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grimmsbride · 1 month ago

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omf umm 🫣 your rex was so good. this is so specific but i feel like our preferences line up p well so im humbly requesting...

douchebag!rex and chubby!reader where rex is constantly teasing her, maybe pinching her side or teasing her for eating sweets or something. but behind the scenes he CANNOT get enough of her, furiously jerks off to the thought of her nightly, gets jealous when other ppl get too close to her.

she gets hit with sex pollen at some point and he gets assigned the job of taking care of her and making sure she doesn't try to fuck everyone she sees. but rex is the one having a hard time keeping it together bc fuck why is she so cute when shes a desperate mess

𝄃𝄀⠀⠀love potions⠀╲ rex sloan ֤ࣨ🫀𖥔 ݁ ˖

summary * 𓈒 you didn’t particularly like rex-splode, and the feeling seemed to be pretty neutral on his end. but a sudden mix of mystery smoke and being quarantined together, brings the two of you far closer then it should have.

author’s notes * 𓈒 this fic was supposed to be posted like two days ago but i made it way longer then i should have, and i genuinely don’t love how it came out but i still wanted to give my best in fulfilling your request— ty for requesting by the way 🫶🏾. the smut is towards the end if you don’t want to completely read the plot and as always please excuse any typos. i hope you enjoy this fic.

Had you broken your promise to Cecil? Your bold vow that you would never hex any of your teammates, no matter how much they pissed you off? Rex Sloan simply couldn’t wrap his head around it, brain nearly emitting smoke from how much his gears were turning.

It.. had to be a hex, right? Some spell in a fancy language he couldn’t identify, written right in those dingy pages of that grimoire you held so dear. He wondered how you did it, if you stood over him while he slept— whispering saccharine words and giggles, slipping in and out while he was none the wiser.

Only for Rex to wake with nothing but you, on his mind.

It was comical really, how much the outside body covers. One would think Rex hated your guts. And his mouth surely didn’t help. Releasing random remarks about your clothes clinging to your skin, how you should put down that donut once in a while, even going as far as pinching your sides — which always resulted in a quick slap, but still — if anyone on The Guardians were ever asked what relationship the two of you had it could always be described as borderline hostile.

However, appearances can be deceiving. It wasn’t that Rex hated you, or your body for that matter. Quite the opposite actually. The man couldn’t count on two hands how many times his eyes have trailed to your ass whenever you walked by or how he could nearly tremble whenever your form brushed up against him. You consumed him entirely; smell, face, everything about you was intoxicating to the point he simply could not get you out of his mind.

Working out? Rex was wondering if he would be able to lift you at his current rep. How his fingers would probably sink into your warm flesh as he tugged you closer by the hips, maybe you would even whine about being heavy— only for him to prove you wrong.

In the shower? All that steam surrounding him? Oh, the man could only imagine having you right beside him, suds sliding down your body like the stretch marks etched into your skin; the man would be steady wondering how hot and heavy the two of you could get— melting into the other until you’re basically forced to get out.

In his bed, under those comfortable blankets was the worst of all. During the day Rex was able to ignore his thoughts and focus on being a dick to everyone — mostly you — and being a superhero. But in his bed with nothing to ground him, his mind went wild.

Wild enough that it affected the rest of his body.

Most nights were spent rather sinfully, a hand wrapped tightly around his dick whilst arousal dripped from his angry red tip. Rex’s free hand was always on his face, as if shameful for what he was doing. And technically he was.

He was Rex Sloan, basically resident fuck-boy; meaning, jerking off should be really be at the bottom of the list. But when it came to you, any thought of approaching you for such a thing, for something other than random insults and remarks— the man was suddenly mute.

“Rex. Are you listening?”

The mechanical voice cut through the flood of thoughts swarming the man’s mind, snapping his eyes from the random buildings passing by to the machine currently driving the vehicle that soared through the air. And to the side was you, sitting so prim and perfectly in your dark clothes; hand currently occupied by a mirror to which your free hand plucked and fluffed your hair. In the midst your hand dragged down towards your chubby cheek and lower, fingers resting upon your lips to which you gently smoothed— probably assuring they were free of anything.

Rex couldn’t help but stare, throughly entranced with it all— suddenly feeling very jealous of your finger tips.

Were your lips as soft as they looked? He wondered how you would taste, he could just imagine them wrapped around his di—

“Rex?”

The moment his name was spoken again your eyes suddenly snapped to his through the mirror, causing the man to quickly look away, nearly glaring daggers into the back of Robot’s head.

“Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.” He waved it off, forcing a nonchalant facade. “We go to some greenhouse, blow up some freakish plant monster— and then get on with the day.”

Rex then allowed his gaze to tilt back to you, a rather stupid grin suddenly crossing his features.

“But what’s Ms. Sabrina the Witch doing here? You and I could handle this job no problem without the extra weight.”

Your eyebrow twitched, slamming your compact mirror closed as you turned to glare at the man.

“You think you’re so funny.. Maybe I should call Amanda to whoop your ass again.”

“What, you need a little girl to fight your battles?”

“Rex, you aren’t even worth a single spell in my book.. Though,” Your eyes trailed away from the man, suddenly looking deep in thought as your arms crossed over your bosom; “— Maybe I could turn you into a toad.. I’m not sure you would look any different, however.”

Rex couldn’t help but scoff, feeling far too many emotions swarm his stomach the moment he noticed those perfect lips lift into a simper. His own parted, ready to release some fast remark when Robot interrupted;

“From the information gathered by Cecil, there seems to be magical forces at play; explaining the sudden behavior of the plant. Both of you are needed for this mission, and you two are expected to act as a team.”

Those final words were spoken, the tense atmosphere quickly delving into silence. Like teenagers ridiculed the two of you crossed your arms, leaning back into your seats and waiting silently for this damned mission to begin.

Moments passed before the vehicle suddenly stopped, lowering to the ground before a large greenhouse. The windows were frosted, yet large shadows seemed to be pressed against the glass.

With ease you slipped out of the car, tucking your spellbook close and inspecting the outside carefully. What Robot said was right, there seemed to be some type of magical presence; strong enough you felt it from the outside.

You turned, hearing your other teammates exit the vehicle— Robot stepping to stand beside you. His metallic hand rose to the handle of the building, giving the two of you a single glance;

“Are you ready t—“

“Let’s get this over with already!”

. . .

Minutes, possibly even hours passed with the three of you attacking the plant that had taken over the building. With each vine Rex seemed to explode, another grew; dwindling all your progress to zero.

Finally in a sudden turn of events you found the perfect spell, reciting the olden language as a dark spiraled glyph etched into the ground below the plant.

Light sprung from your magic, incinerating the monster from within.

In the midst of this however, a sudden pinkish hue entered the air in the form of smoke, chasing towards you desperately as the plant breathed its final moments. You quickly flung an arm around your face, but it was far too late; feeling the foreign air run up your nose in a painful burn. It trickled down to your throat, clogging so much you began to cough; body shaking from the excursion. You fell to your knees, struggling to catch your breath, as sloppy wet coughs escaped your chest.

“[Name]!”

You didn’t know whether it was Rex or Robot speaking, deciding to focus on your breathing instead. Your eyes shut close, sucking in harshly to hopefully fill your lungs with fresh air and not whatever that mysterious smoke was. It took a couple of tries but you eventually succeeded, feeling your rushing heart relax the moment you could breathe again.

You slowly lifted from your hunched position, noting the way Robot stood close to you whilst Rex stood off to the side, gaze settled upon you with an unreadable expression.

“What the hell was that, Robot?! Did it just piss on her?”

“You’re..” You huffed softly, slowly rising to your feet, tucking your book close to your body. “— so immature.”

“I’m asking a serious question!”

You shook your head, switching your gaze over to the still machine, waiting for some type of answer. You secretly prayed Rex was wrong, knowing you would probably gag if it truly was magical monster plant pee.

“It wasn’t urine, Rex; the plant released a pheromone as a response to [Name] killing it. “ Rex explained slowly, stepping a tad bit closer to you, clearly scanning your form. “It’s current effects are unknown to me, however you seemed to have inhaled most of it and absorbed it through your skin.”

“What?” You hissed in concern, eyes falling to your body as if searching for some type of answer. You even went as far as swiping your skin, truly desperate to get whatever the hell it was off you.

“That won’t work.”

“Yeah, no shit Robot—“ Rex stepped in, eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he glanced down at you before switching his gaze back to his other teammate. “What are you gonna do?”

All was silent for a moment as Robot thought it over, possibly doing millions of calculations for an answer. You stood quietly, attempting to swallow your fear. This so called pheromone couldn’t be that bad.. right? Maybe it was like a skunk thing?

Okay, that did sound pretty bad.

Robot stole you from your thoughts the moment he spoke again, your eyes flicking to him and noticing his own head switched towards Rex.

“For now, while I assess the effects the two of you will be quarantined together.”

“What?”

“There’s no way in he—“

“You could possibly infect the others through contact and given Rex was nearby during the event, there’s a possibility the pheromones hit him as well.” Robot cut through your childish remarks with ease, watching your mouths clamp shut in response.

“This is only temporary. I will figure out an answer soon. For now, please work with me.”

. . .

You wanted to work with Robot, or more like needed to. So you were pretty silent on the ride back to headquarters albeit the little groans of irritation that escaped you each time you shifted, suddenly feeling every bit of fabric clinging to your skin.

It was a blur making it to the quarantine area— or rather your bedroom. You didn’t love having your biggest enemy in your safe haven, but you would have to make do.

“Feel any different?”

“You asked that three minutes ago, Rex.” You murmured softly, eyes closed as you laid amongst your soft blankets. You had taken a shower the moment you got back, something Robot recommended and something you definitely needed. Removing your clothes to relish under the hot water was pure bliss, you would have stayed under there for hours if you could. After which you dried and dressed in a simple shirt and shorts, baggy to combat the sudden suffocating sensation surrounding you.

You turned from lying on your back to your side, allowing your eyes to open and focus on the man across the room. He was seated on your vanity chair, dressed in a simple white tank and his super-suit pants. The man’s hair was done up in a messy bun, a few strands framing his face. You began to stare longer than you should have, only realizing the moment his eyebrow twitched up, clearly questioning your sudden interest on his face.

You breathed softly, “I don’t feel any different.. just, hot.”

“Hot?”

You gave a little nod, rolling onto your stomach as your face smushed into the blankets and pillows below you. “Hot.” You repeated softly, eyes closing for a moment. Hot, was an understatement. While your shower helped cool you down in the moment, it felt as if your temperature was slowly rising and rising— with no end in sight. It explained why you suddenly felt so suffocated; the fabric you wore clinging to your body as you began to sweat.

Along with this, you felt dizzy as if developing the worst super powered vertigo known to man. The only remedy was shutting your eyes tightly, even going as far as shoving your face into your bed to help.

“Really.. hot.” You murmured more to yourself rather than the man, but he heard regardless.

Rex couldn’t help the tinge of worry invading his body as he looked at you. He could hear the way you basically panted, as well as see your body rise and fall with every breath. He sucked in his own, rising to his feet and crossing the bedroom quickly.

“You’re not gonna be able to breathe like that, c’mon—“ he leaned upon your bed with a single hand whilst the other went for your arm, gently pushing you, however hissing the moment his palm made contact with your skin.

“Fuck, you’re boiling [Name].” Rex murmured, eyes casing down your front the moment you rested on your back. He immediately noticed the sweat presented on your skin, shining underneath your overhead light and trickling down your body. With each huff your chest was rising, hands clenching the shirt you wore as if to ground you.

“I’m.. starting to feel weird.” Your voice came out in a croak, as like it burned to speak; eyes blinking open to stare up at the man before you, which proved difficult given how you could barely focus.

Rex sucked in a breath, his hand gliding from your arm to instead maneuver towards your forehead. From the heat radiating against his palm it was clear you had a fever, terrible enough that it seemed to incapacitate you completely. Such a thought caused the man to worry, something he didn’t typically like doing but he couldn’t help it at this point.

“Are you in pain anywhere?”

You slowly shook your head, causing the man’s hand to glide lower, coming into contact with your cheek. The moment it did, you shivered, eyes shutting close and seemingly leaning into his touch. It felt cooling compared to the rest of your body, a funny thought given his entire power was exploding shit.

Still, it seemed like the remedy to your situation, causing you to basically sink into his touch; a sigh gliding through your nostrils.

This took Rex by surprise, eyes widening slowly at the display. You, the woman he was oh so sure hated him, was leaning into his touch? It truly must be winter in hell for such a thing to happen.

“[Name]..?” He called on hushed breath, throughly confused by the situation. You didn’t respond, at first; seemingly content with your cheek in his hand. But the moment Rex moved your eyes were flying open, reaching over to lock your fingers around his wrist.

“Don’t.. move. Please don’t move.”

You murmured softly, borderline whimpering as you turned to place the full weight of your head into his palm. Your fingers dragged down his wrist to his arm, coaxing him to stay just where you wanted— needed him to be. Your entire body was overheating at this point, your clothes feeling far too restricting as if you were ready to burst out the seams. You released a shuddering breath, shifting once more and allowing your lips to graze his skin, nose pressed up against his wrist in turn.

The moment his smell hit you, you were murmuring a soft swear; nails dragging against his skin as desperation began to fill your entirety.

Rex couldn’t do a thing but sit there and gape, attempting to stay composed despite what was unfolding before him. His fingers twitched as they glided close to you hair, feeling something else twitch as your lips traced his skin— fuck, what were you doing? The man wanted nothing more than to ask just that, tearing his hand away in the process.

But he couldn’t, not with the way those pretty eyes were fluttering at him, clearly so desperate for his touch. Rex’s tongue slipped out to glide across his bottom lip nervously, nearly convulsing as he watched your gaze fall to the simple action.

Everything was growing so hot around the two of you, as if the pheromones had seeped out completely and covered every inch of your room. Silence carried before your lips parted to speak a sweet,

“Rex..”

It took a moment for the man to reply with how his name tasted on your tongue. You had abandoned that usual hint of annoyance and frustration crafted specifically for him, instead choosing something so soft, and downright irresistible it was causing his mind to go wild.

His teeth dragged across his cheek, finally releasing a simple; “What is it? Do you.. want me to go get Robot?”

You couldn’t have shaken your head any faster, hand even tightening around his arm— as if truly scared his touch would leave. You brought your body closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him; eyes carrying down his form as soft huffs pushed through pouted lips.

“No..— please, please stay. I need you to stay, Rex.” A drawn out beg escaped you quickly, Rex sucking in air at your words. Stay? He had no choice but to. The two of you were quarantined after all.

But something told him that wasn’t what you were only entailing. Something, like how your gaze simply couldn’t focus on a single spot; trailing from his face down to his legs— lingering there for a moment before returning back to his features.

“Then wha—“

“I need,” You begun slowly, struggling to find the words as hurried breaths escaped. The feeling running through you was completely foreign, sensations, senses, all of it; cranked up completely to one hundred. Fear of the unknown pooled deep in your stomach, followed by something else entirely the longer you looked at the man before you.

Finally you seemed to find what you wanted, fingers dragging against his skin once more, it pricking with each touch.

“You. I need you, Rex. I need to feel you..”

You were lying. This was a trick to fuck with him right? There’s no way you, wanted him in that way. It was all some ploy to admit something he didn’t want to, right? It had to be..

Rex wanted to open his mouth to refuse you, brain screaming at him to push you away. Push her, push her, push her— it thundered in his head as if the only plausible answer to the situation.

But the moment a single please escaped those pretty lips, the only thought in Rex’s head was;

Fuck this.

The hand upon you gripped your cheek with purpose, the man leaning to snatch your lips in a heated kiss. The moment the two of you connected, a soft whine escaped right into his mouth— your free hand latching onto his body quickly. Your lips moved in such a perfect rhythm, igniting your already hot body to basically boil over. You couldn’t help how desperate your lips were getting, whimpering and whining; practically begging for more out of the man.

The two of you parted, Rex watching the way you attempted to chase his lips, eyelids coming to hang low over green eyes that took you in so intently.

“Rex, please..”

“I hear you.” His words broke through the fog slowly clouding your mind, you completely focused on him and only him. The way he breathed, stared, how he ever so slowly lifted himself to hover over your sweltering body; bringing himself to rest on his forearm whilst the other hand continued to hold your face.

“I got you mama, shit..” Rex dragged softly as he pressed another kiss to your lips, leading his own down to your chin, neck, before stamping kisses right against your collarbone. Your taste was a perfect swirl of salty and sweet, curtesy of your sweat and the body wash you had previously used. The man released your face to instead carry his hand downwards, soon reaching the edge of your shirt; breaching the clothing to spread his hand across your stomach.

Rex could nearly groan the moment his fingers clenched, delighted by the way his digits sunk into your plump flesh— hot against his hand and completely perfect despite what he claimed. His eyes took you in searching for something, anything that would tell him to stop— that you didn’t want this at all. But the man only received a pout, and eyes filled to the brim with want.

For him, and only him.

Such a look had him shuddering, leaning close and muttering a quick so desperate for me right upon your lips— such words causing you to keen and melt into him completely. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, never wishing to let go as you felt his comforting hand crossing from your warm stomach and up, the cool air gliding across your skin the more exposed it got.

You gasped as Rex’s fingers traced your breast for a moment, simply playing with you before allowing two of them to enclose a hardened nipple; stimulating the peak so perfectly that sparks were emitting between your thighs. You couldn’t help but lift your hips up, finding what you wanted — his thigh — and dragging yourself up and down slowly.

The stimulation caused you to pant into him, sounds overtaken the moment his tongue intruded your mouth; licking into the dark space with such interest. With a twirl of your two wet, appendages you were moaning softly, feeling the combined spit trickle down your chin the longer you kissed.

You were already dizzy before but with his mouth, fingers, and thigh; you could only describe your mind being a spiral with no end in sight.

As he pulled away you panted, grinding against his thigh like some pathetic dog in heat— clearly desperate for friction to ease the ache between your legs.

Rex took you in greedily, rising up to his haunches, continuing to tweak your breast whilst his other hand carried from your bed and to your body, dragging across your covered sex. Your shorts were soaked, basically ruined; arousal seeping through the fabric easily. He watched as you practically withered at his touch, not so secretly rising your hips to his hand once again.

With another drag of his hand you were whining, peeking up at the man;

“Rex.. don’t tease, please don’t tease me.”

You were palpable, shaking, wanting, needing— everything and anything Rex could have ever wanted. The last thing on his mind was teasing you again.

He was practically tearing your pants and panties off, tossing them to some corner you could worry about later. Your thighs parted, exposing the way a glossy, slick coated your aching cunt; clit swollen, begging for attention as your hole fluttered. Rex couldn’t help but drool, dipping his fingers to coat in your essence, watching the way you practically shook from the naked touch.

“Fuck.. you’re soaked.” Rex whispered, dragging a finger along before finding your little button, circling it carefully. He watched the way your face screwed up in pleasure, how your thighs twitched, slowly enclosing his hand— refusing to let him go where you needed him most.

Your eyes glossy, a film of pure lust covering the pretty gaze; such a look had the man basically huffing, feeling all inhibitions leave his body in a single trickle. Rex continued to circle your swollen clit, feeling the way you so desperately rose into his hand, he knew this was the most sensitive part of a woman, but god— the way you withered was otherworldly.

“Rex, Rex, Rex..” You were whining his name so pathetically, fingers tugging at your blankets as your hips swiveled in the direction of his finger. The ache inside of you only seemed to grow, the pressure building up in your stomach and threatening to spill over. You could feel the way globs of arousal basically pooled from within you, trickling down to your taint and surely staining the bedsheets.

“Fuck… why do you look so pretty like this?”

The question was spoke out loud, yet truthfully not for you to answer. Rex racked his brain on why exactly he waited so long to have you like this. He was such a dick, truly and utterly— to you, and to himself.

The man’s eyes flicked from your pretty pussy back to your even prettier features, gliding his fingers lower to prod at your weeping entrance; easily pushing two digits in to which your velvety walls basically sucked in.

He wasted no time in thrusting the appendages in and out, enjoying the way your moans pitched so perfectly; hitting every inch of his brain in the best symphony. He scissored and curled, brushing up against that spongy spot you; yourself, have never been able to reach with your own fingers.

And the moment Rex’s thumb rose, sweeping across your sensitive button; you were truly done for.

Your hand flew down to his wrist, gripping, refusing to let him go as rushed cries quickly turned into sharp bellows of his name the longer he ruined you with his fingers. It shouldn’t feel this damn good at all. Not simply because it was his fingers but also because it was Rex himself.

The idiot that always looked at you with such disdain, always treated you oddly, mocking you— the whole nine yards like some little bully. Yet here he was, staring at you so sweetly while easing that desperate ache that only he could solve. Only him.

You would slap yourself later. When your mind wasn’t so warped. For now, you wanted nothing more than to be ruined and built right back up by the man you claimed to hate.

Your nails scratched at his skin, thighs closing in around his arm as that pressure thundered deep in your stomach— ready to burst at any time. You couldn’t help the way tears pricked at your eyes, spilling over with each of your quick blinks.

In your daze you heard Rex coo, maybe whisper; soon feeling him move towards your side, face hovering close to your own whilst his fingers continued that perfect rhythm inside of you.

“I can’t believe I’m seeing you like this,” Awe clung to his words, heavy lidded eyes dedicating each pleasure stricken feature to memory; refusing to let it go. “So fucking perfect like this.. I’m such a dick, fuck—“ Rex wondered if he was suddenly getting infected, given the way you so easily took over every sense of his. He felt, smelt, saw, and tasted just about every inch of your presence; a concoction that even the best bartender couldn’t even begin to replicate.

“—Mm close! Fuck.. Rex, please..!”

Your walls clung to his fingers, peak rising so quickly only to crash even faster. The tears spilled over, coating your cheeks whilst your arousal coated his fingers, and your bedsheets. You shook from the aftershocks, desperately trying to catch your breath; whining the moment you felt Rex remove his fingers.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but you moved much faster, reaching out to plant your hands onto his shoulders. You rose, pressing your lips to his own whilst pushing at his body; affectively getting him to lay onto his back whilst you crawled over his body.

Rex could nearly cum in his pants the moment you laid out amongst him, his hands immediately falling to your plush thighs, tugging them; eyes rolling back at how soft you felt against his skin. And the moment he realized you were dragging your hips, smearing your messy pussy across his covered bulge; the man pulled back to groan, shuddering breaths escaping his chest.

“Fuck, fuck— wait, don’t you need to, recover— [Name]?”

“Nnn.. no, no..”

He watched as you rose to sit in his lap, hips still bucking, still grinding and rolling like some machine that refused to turn off. You looked like a fucking goddess above him, hair a mess yet framing your features perfectly, eyes glossy, lips shining with your combined saliva; Rex wondered what he did he do to deserve such a display.

“Need more.. fuck I need it Rex, please!” With a particularly long drag of your hips you were shaking, hands pressed against his chest, crumpling the shirt he wore within your palms. It was like your body didn’t care you had finished just a second ago, still completely aching in desperation as if you were completely untouched.

Your sweet whines did something to Rex, the man swearing under his breath, the previous worry he held for you no longer present. Wasting no time, he allowed his hands to fall from your body to instead find the waistband of his pants, resting his feet onto the bed to shimmy his garments down to his thighs.

His length sprung from its confinements, tip flushed with pearly globs of white slipping from its slit. You brushed close, sweltering center dragging across it so perfectly the both of you could only groan.

Rex’s hands found your hips again, squeezing the flesh within his fingers as his own hips rose to buck into you. “C’mon mama, it’s all yours.. don’t tease.” His head tilted, eyes fluttering closed the moment you ground against him once again. His tip bumped against your swollen button, dragging to your fluttering hole; prodding there for a moment before slowly pushing past the ring of muscle.

The man downright shivered, sparks running down his spine the way your wet walls clung to his dick, shaping around it so perfectly he swore you were made just for him. You weren’t any better, nearly falling apart as you enveloped him completely— ass rested on his legs, seated so perfectly. The stretch should have burned, but you only felt pure bliss with every inch pushed into you. Filled to the brim, his dick basically throbbing inside you, veins brushing against your walls; hitting places you didn’t even know existed.

You didn’t wait to adjust, to allow air to even fully expand your lungs before you were lifting yourself until only the tip remained inside— dropping down in one full motion. The moan released you was pure sickeningly sweet honey, clutching the man so desperately as more hurried drops of your hips followed.

Rex clung to your hips for dear life, barely being able to keep himself together. The single thought of don’t come, don’t come, swirled inside his mind; proving more difficult the longer you rode him. His body shook with each heavy pant he released, nails digging into your plush skin as his eyes nearly met his skull.

“Jus… ha— just like that baby, fucking use me—“ His feet suddenly planted firmly upon your bed, meeting each of your ruts with his own thrusts, tip striking your g-spot so perfectly.

Stars invaded your vision, body sweltering, sweat trickling down every single part of your body— but you refused to stop, you couldn’t. You felt as if you could die without this. And they may have been true, with how you were clinging to the man like he was some kind of anchor.

You lowered yourself, quick breaths fanning across his exposed skin; whining the moment you felt his arms wrap tightly around your waist, feeling him drill into you without a care.

“Rex, o—oh god, fuck!” You shoved your face into his neck, sniffling and sobbing as that ache swelled. You weren’t even thinking properly nor making sense, incoherent words that sounded like some jumbled prayer of his name slipping off your tongue far too quickly.

Before you could even breathe the man was suddenly flipping your positions, hands going for your thighs and spreading you open— fucking into you so deeply, you could have sworn he was in your cervix at this point.

“So perfect.. fucking perfect, fuck, fuck..” His words came out in a drawn fashion, eyes glued to your body. He pushed your thighs, watching the way your stomach rolled up in response; Rex swearing he was getting hard all over again. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, ass rippling each time his hips made contact.

Far too quickly you were coming undone, coil snapping without warning leaving you a shaking mess that could only gasp and cry. Your slick escaped, coating his dick; creating a creamy ring around the base as he simply would not, stop, moving. Instead the man lowered, coming closer and sliding your legs to his shoulders.

Through shallow thrusts Rex spoke, “Been so fucking mean to you. You forgive me baby, huh?” All while planting the sweetest kisses against your skin, as if he wasn’t utterly wrecking you.

You could only whine, hands sliding to his back, dragging your nails against him as you shook your head far too fast— making yourself even more delirious then before.

But that wasn’t enough for the man, no, that wasn’t what he wanted, needed.

A hand came between the two of you, easily finding your messy clit and rubbing circles into the bud. You shook, overstimulation biting at your body to the point you were keening.

“Wanna hear you say it, pretty…” Rex spoke in-between sharp thrusts and shaky exhales. “—I was a fucking ass..asshole, and liar; every inch of you is perfect.. shit, you have me obsessed [Name].”

It was clear the man wasn’t thinking straight from how easily the confession swept from his lips, some type of metaphorical weight being lifted off his shoulders the moment it was uttered however. Rex took in the way you struggled to keep your eyes on him, and with how you were tossing back and forth between ecstasy he was sure you hadn’t heard a damn thing.

Still, the pace of both his fingers and hips quickened, moving much closer to kiss you, soft cooes of forgive me, being pushed into your mouth.

Your hands trailed to his hair, bun long forgotten as the strands peeked and slid between the gaps of your fingers. Rex swallowed your last bellow, your entire body jerking as you squirted, making a complete mess of him, yourself, and your bed.

He wasn’t too far behind, groaning into you as he drove himself deeper, gripping your skin as he flooded you with his come; adding to the mess the moment it began to trickle out.

Rex’s hips finally stilled, hand even moving away from your pretty cunt yet his lips remained on you, still kissing you so sloppily yet gingerly. Moments passed of this lip locking before he pulled away for air, forehead resting against your own as he greedily sucked it up.

You panted as well, that once unquenchable ache now very dull compared to before. You melted into the bed, sighing heavily as your hands dragged from his hair to his cheeks, collecting them in your palms.

“I forgive you.” You whispered, watching recollection cross his features, causing your lips to curl into a little grin. “But yeah, you’re a dick.”

Rex couldn’t help the little grin pulling his lips, “I know. But hey, I helped you get rid of that monster plant piss— just had to sweat it out.”

You groaned softly, pushing at his body to which the man laughed, refusing to break away.

“You ruin everything.”

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serendipitous-seven · 1 month ago

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baby if i fall | singledad!Jungkook x f!reader | "I Can't Wait..." series

summary: For nearly a year, you and Jungkook have enjoyed the blissful tidings of your new relationship. But it isn’t long before reality rears its ugly head, forcing you to face your insecurities head-on when Jungkook makes it apparent what steps he is ready to take while you present one of your own that has him squirming. Meanwhile, Mai begins to show signs of unexplained distress. With life hurling the three of you into uncharted territory, you and Jungkook begin to question if you will make it over this obstacle.

pairing: dad!Jungkook x f!reader genre: sequel, domestic au, angst, fluff rating: pg-15 word count: 21.5k tags/warnings: This is a sequel so to understand the storyline I highly advise you read the first part, linked below :] This fic is built around themes of insecurities about physical intimacy. STILL SFW as there are no explicit scenes of such, but there will be dialogue concerning those topics. Romance through out i.e. heavy kissing in two scenes, ‘sex’ is mentioned in a few conversations, a conversation between reader and reader’s mom regarding sex & intimacy. A verbal argument/a bit of yelling, unhealthy communication, Mai experiences distress in several scenes, bullying, topics of absent mother, Mai hits a classmate [it gets resolved], heavy crying, emotional distress through out.

singledad!JK series mlist | make sure you have read the first part before proceeding here

Please proceed by own discretion and caution as these themes can be triggering or uncomfortable for some. While the content is still SFW, I ask minors DNI.

a/n: So here I am with a refreshed sequel, edited and cried over because I still love this little family of mine. It was odd reading this in my current circumstances and feeling heartbreak all the same. It really made me realize and feel proud of how much I just love to write, it makes me feel things nothing else does. Maybe I won’t be healed completely by a story let alone my own, or characters who learn how to respect one another and learn each other’s love languages - but I am learning that this kind of love can truly exist outside of mere fanfiction. I believe in it even if it didn’t find me like I thought it did. I’m growing stronger with time, and I’m really happy I stepped out of my dark hole to edit this and present it. Pls handle it with care, I really put my heart into each fic, whether it’s brand new or re-posted work <3 This is me giving you all a piece of me.

This bliss is addictive, sitting in Jungkook’s arms while your families go on about random things. A silent moment of gratitude sits as intertwined smiles on both of your faces, taking it all in. Both fathers advise you on investing in stocks as Princess Mai is entertained by Jungkook’s mom, “Hamny,” and your mother, “Nunu,” who act as her faithful guards fighting against the imaginary dragon intruding upon their backyard.

Everyone is happy and at ease, obsessed with seeing you and Jungkook together.

“The family that always should have been,” according to Mrs. Jeon. Jungkook shakes his head when she says that but hearing it leaves a fluttering in his chest.

Jungkook’s hand is wrapped around yours as he drives home with a sleeping Mai in the backseat. You both giggle when she snores, almost waking herself up.

Once back at their house, you win a playful fight against Jungkook to carry Mai to bed. You live for this despite her getting a little heavier with every inch she grows.

She moans and groans as you help a very zombified Mai change into her pajamas and brush her teeth before tucking her into bed. Usually the chatty one, she manages to butterfly a kiss onto your nose before rolling over, instantly falling back to sleep, her even breathing filling the silence of her room.

Jungkook is waiting at the door, lost in a dreamy haze after watching it all. He still has to pinch himself, wondering how on earth he managed to get you. Not only as his best friend, which he would have happily kept it that way, because having you was better than not, but to have you and be able to tell you with his entire being, ‘I love you.’ Nothing beats that. Watching you get his daughter ready for bed not only now, but the way you’ve handled her with care for all of these years, it is so different. There is an extra layer of love you have to offer. He wonders if he only sees it now because your mutual love for each other manifests in a new and intimate way. He finds himself unable to fully grasp the feelings that you continue to stir inside of him.

You tie your arms around his neck once he closes Mai’s door, and he kisses you; “Can you take care of me like that?” He teases against your lips. You roll your eyes, returning his affection. Jungkook carefully walks the two of you toward his bedroom. Too lost in him, you don’t question where he is headed until the back of your knees collide with his bed.

It’s only then that you stutter, pulling away from his kiss, but he has an ardent need to show you how much he loves you.

“Jungkook,” you start when he moves his lips across your cheek, pressing them along your jaw, down to the valley of your neck. You gasp, and only then does he stop, his face red with passion.

“You okay?” He chuckles, squeezing your waist with his hands.

“Um, yes-” you waver, but Jungkook, too caught in the moment, takes that as the go-ahead and continues; “a-and no.”

His breath stills, and he stops again. You look up at him with shaking eyes as he looks down at you, riddled with confusion and concern. You move your hands over his chest, staring at his shirt, “I um- I-I’m not ready for this, not yet.”

He understands right away, stumbling back to put distance between the two of you. “Oh,” his voice trembles and his hands drop to his sides, “th-that’s okay, I’m sorry, I-uh I shouldn’t have assumed-”

You rub his arms to assure him you aren’t offended, kissing his cheek. It’s awkward though, neither of you can deny it, hands loosely holding the other as he walks you to your car.

“You can still spend the night-” he starts, but you turn and offer him an empathetic smile, touching his cheek.

“I think we need to cool off.” You chuckle, feeling embarrassed, “Wouldn’t it be kind of insensitive for me to stay with you tonight?”

He melts at the feel of your warm palm against his cheek, snorting. He looks at you with an arched brow, “Why, because I can’t resist you?”

You shrug with a pressed smile, “You tell me.” The exchange is awkward, and Jungkook can see the tightness on your face.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing the side of your head. You feel shivers up and down your spine when he breathes next to your ear. “I love you, okay?”

You breathe the same words, hugging your boyfriend a little tighter.

Driving home, it’s all you can think about. It isn’t a question of wanting to. You want to. But knowing Jungkook for as long as you have has also meant knowing his life, too much of it.

You scoff out loud, cursing your very thoughts. ‘Can I measure up to those women? Will I be different enough for him to want to commit to me forever?’ It haunts you.

You feel sick and force yourself to think of something else, anything else but that.

“I have a parent-teacher conference with Mai’s teacher on Friday,” Jungkook sighs, his hand stroking your arm. You rest back against his chest, the two of you squashed into a lounge chair while Mai runs around the yard with their new dog, Bam. Every time you see the large Doberman, you want to laugh; Jungkook is never short of surprises and last-minute decisions. You should know that by now.

“Is that why you seemed so wound up tonight?” You tip your head to get a better view of him.

He shuts his eyes, grinning, “On top of this move, yeah, I guess so.” You can feel his body tense up from stress. You turn in his lap, swiping your hand back through his newly, box-dyed hair- another thing you could laugh at if he wasn’t so pressed at the moment, “Did she get in trouble?”

“Depending on how that meeting goes, she may be in trouble with me,” his eyes wander to find his daughter lying flat on the grass, Bam’s generous licks coating her face in kisses. Mai shrieks, carefully pushing Bam away before she’s running again.

“Even though working my business from home now gives me more time to be with you guys, I can’t help her as much with homework like I used to,” your eyes follow Mai’s erratic jaunt throughout the backyard, unable to keep the smile away for too long while you watch her, “maybe she needs a tutor.”

Jungkook pats your thighs, whispering, “I don’t know,” before he tells his daughter it’s time to go in and start her night routine.

Mai sprints past her dad and into your arms, wrapping you in a death-defying grip around your waist. Jungkook’s face blushes at the sight, body overtaken by butterflies, a feeling he’s become used to. He rubs his chest as he watches you walk backward with Mai as she warns you that you’ll run into something, guiding you back into the house.

“Are you spending the night?” Mai asks once inside the house, releasing you.

You brush her hair back behind her shoulders, holding her chin in your hand, “Mhm, so go brush your teeth, bean, then I’ll tuck you in.”

Mai’s face beams with a smile much like her dad’s. Jungkook smiles to himself, listening to the two of you banter while he cleans off the dining room table.

“How come you don’t just live with us at the new house?” Mai starts to hop toward the hallway, unfazed by the weight of her question. You stop in your tracks, “You sleep over a lot anyways!” She adds.

Jungkook’s head pops up, eyes finding you right away. His curious grin is a heavy contrast to the way you start nibbling on your lip. “How observant of you,” you look down at her.

“Daddy said he would like for you to move with us-” Mai turns to grin at her dad, a window of space in her teeth, “he’s just too chicken-”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, face glowing red, “Okay slick, go-uh-go brush your teeth and we’ll be in there in a minute,” Jungkook cuts in. Mai hops away with Bam close at toe.

Jungkook catches your round eyes, “I’m guessing we should talk about that,” he flashes you an innocent smile, “after she goes to bed.” You’re nodding before he can fully finish that sentence.

“Me moving in is not an idea I want in Mai’s head,” you huff, looking over at Jungkook and the smirk on his face. He notices your annoyance, pushing his lips together, “Go on,” he urges you.

“I just wish you would have told me this is a discussion you were having with your kid, babe,” you sigh, putting the last plate he rinsed into the dishwasher before starting it up, “isn’t that something you should be talking to me about, not a 7-year-old?”

“I’m not discussing anything like that with my daughter, she asked if you were going to move with us, and I said it would be nice, but- she brought it up,” he snorts, “not me!”

You bark with laughter, “Blaming Mai, how father-of-the-year of you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughs despite your frustration, tossing the rag into the sink before slinking his arms around your waist, pushing his nose into your cheek. You scoff, trying to fight him off, but he proves victorious, as always. Your arms fall limp when he squeezes you tightly before leaning forward for a kiss.

“Cheater,” you say against his lips, “this does not end our conversation.” He giggles this time before kissing you again, “and your stupid little ring here can’t distract me either.” You add, pressing your finger against the piercing on his bottom lip.

He laughs, dropping his head in defeat, “I wasn’t aware a conversation between two people meant one person argues while the other can’t get a word in edgewise,” he pats your side, smirking, “and complain about this all you want, I know you like it.”

You swat his chest in response, “whatever,” attempting to wiggle out of his hold. He finds your determination cute, hardly putting up any restraint against your pathetic attempt to set yourself free; “and it’s hard to argue when you won’t let me go!”

“It’s a lot more fun to argue this way,” he retorts.

Oh, he’s good.

You let out a loud huff, once again losing the fight, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself then?” Your frown only makes his gaze softer, you watch his eyes dart all around your face. You know he’s wondering where he should kiss you next.

“What I have to say is…I am madly and deeply in love-”

“Jung--kook,” you laugh with all frustration, pushing against his biceps that seem to grow by the day, “I am trying to have a very serious conversation right now wherein my boyfriend, you, respects me and listens to my concerns and validates my feelings because this is kind of a major thing!” You take a deep breath at the end of that sentence.

He steals a kiss before letting you go, apologizing. Though you wouldn’t mind hearing Jungkook tell you daily just how in love with you he is, that could wait for a later time. He follows you into the living room, peering down the hallway instinctively to make sure Mai’s night light is on in her bedroom, where she is sound asleep. You hold your glass of wine between two hands, watching him settle onto the couch, his arm draped over the back and resting his head against his palm.

He smiles at you, stealing a sip from your glass, having opted out of a glass for himself, considering he has an early meeting in the morning; “Okay, so Mai and I got a little excited about moving, and you did come up. I’m sorry, baby. But help me understand what’s troubling you.”

You immediately feel heard, a warmth settling in your chest when you realize he has been listening for the last 30 minutes.

“I’m just surprised she would ask that, and a little bothered that you didn’t tell me. But my concern is Mai, I just don’t want to get her hopes up about me moving in with you guys. You know kids, and you know your kid, she holds onto every hope and she is smart. You give her an inkling, and she puts two and two together so fast.”

He nods, sighing, “I hear you and you’re right, but I’m wondering if the issue really has to do with my daughter, and I-” he makes it a point to gesture at himself, “wanting this or you not wanting to move in. I mean, I’m obviously not opposed to the idea, we’ve been together for almost a year now. I’m moving into a new place. Isn’t moving in together the next logical step?”

Steps? You can’t hold in the hefty sigh that sits in your chest. The lingering thoughts loom over your head when you think about the steps you and Jungkook have overcome in just the last few months. Being with him, it’s seventh heaven, yes. Moving on from best friends to best friends that have fallen in love, confessing that love to each other then becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. But with time and a new relationship, it’s you and Jungkook. The two of you know each other well, and that in itself was proving to be a hurdle.

“Is it, Jungkook? Most couples-”

“For us,” he says in a breath, “I’m talking about you and me. We’ve known each other for a long time, been in love with each other for God knows how long before confessing, you’ve helped me raise my kid- moving in together feels right and besides-” Jungkook moves forward, resting his hand on your knee with a careful laugh, “baby, you do sleep here almost every night anyway.”

You abandon your wine for a more serious tone, “because it’s a drive for me to get hom, and I’m always here late. Besides, your new house is a lot closer to my apartment.” It’s the truth, the half-truth anyway.

There’s an odd silence that follows for a few beats. Jungkook looks down at where his hand rests on your knee, fingers playing with the material of your pants; “I know something else is bothering you…” It suddenly becomes hard to swallow when Jungkook looks at you, a certain caution in his eyes as he presents that observation.

You chew on the inside of your lip.

Moving in does sound nice. Being able to work from home and hear Jungkook and Mai come in, maybe even swing by his office for a quick lunch together on occasion. Picking Mai up from school on your days off and bringing her home, a home you don’t have to leave just to stay alone in your apartment when all you want is to be with the two loves of your life.

It sounds perfect.

But…

The but…You hate it. You’ve hated it since the moment it barged its way into your head. It arrived and never left, making itself comfortable as an unwelcome guest inside your mind. Moving in only means things progress from there, naturally. You share a space with the one you love. Share a bathroom. A bed… And it’s not like you and Jungkook haven’t shared those things already. But physical intimacy with each other outside of making out and other forms is otherwise vague in your relationship, you always made sure it stopped before it progressed beyond a point you can’t take back with him.

Jungkook can see the inner workings of your mind appear as a question mark on your face. He wants to ask you, but the knot in his stomach tells him not to. He wants you to be ready to talk about it.

“Come here,” he pulls you into his arms, the way he always does when he isn’t sure about what to say when both of you are at a loss. And it’s nice, it’s so nice to finally be able to do this with him.

“I just want you with us as much as possible,” he soothes, rubbing your sides, “that’s all I’m getting at.”

You nod, “We’ll talk about it more and I’ll give it some thought,” you sit back, holding his hands, “but just-don’t let this be a conversation you have with Mai again, please? I don’t want to disappoint her if it doesn’t happen.”

He frowns, “‘doesn’t happen?’ You mean, ever?” He can’t hide his disappointment.

“Jungkook,” you’re exasperated, “we just haven’t talked about enough yet. Yes, we are in a relationship, but I mean, there are other factors to consider too, right?”

When he fidgets in his spot, you suddenly realize there is space between the two of you. “Are you talking about what happened a month ago?”

You feel exposed, stripped in a way to say anymore, but it’s a thought that’s been in your mind since the issue arose for you, “yes, that is something, but I also mean- well, like marriage? Have you thought about marriage?”

He tries to hide the way his eyes widen. “Is that something you want?”

You bite your lip, “You don’t?”

He sees your expression, the way you’re growing more distant by the second. He remembers the last time this happened, almost to the point of losing you entirely. He makes a last-minute decision to re-close the gap, tying your fingers with his, “okay, so there is a lot we still need to discuss before moving in together is an option then.”

You nod wearily, “which is why we need to leave Mai out of it, for now.”

Jungkook hates to end the night this way, the two of you lost, unsure of how the other is feeling. Instead of sleeping in his arms, you both take to your respective sides of his bed - you staring up at the ceiling and Jungkook, who is lying on his side, stares out of the window.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt him stir at one point, knowing he turned to check.

He lay back on his side, mind running rampant with intrusive thoughts. These questions he wasn’t aware could exist until entering a relationship with you now cloud his forethought. Before, he wondered how he could go on secretly loving you, so desperately wanting you to want him. And now that he has you, his question feels heavier.

‘Can I be good enough for her?’ It booms with such a heavy bass that it irritates his eardrums.

You squirm in your seat, cheek resting against your knuckles as you stare back at your computer screen. The conversation you and Jungkook had last night left you strained, mind occupied, despite the mountain of work in front of you. And by the way both of you struggled to even spare a look at each other when you kissed him goodbye this morning, you knew he was still thinking about what was going on in your mind.

In hindsight, dating for almost a year may have been too soon to bring up marriage. There is still so much to do as a couple, to learn about your best friend turned boyfriend, and even your relationship with Mai is changing ever so slightly. You want time to explore all of that, but Jungkook’s statement, even though it regarded something else for him, kept flashing in red font before your eyes.

‘I’m talking about you and me…’

You and Jungkook. It used to be an unfathomable dream. Now you are living it, and those single words hold so much for you. It’s wonderful and terrifying when you allow the thought to seep in, wrapping its meaning around your bones; it was a part of you now.

It’s nearly impossible not to imagine that kind of future with this man who continues to captivate you more and more. Every day you see Jungkook and you think, ‘Can I really love him more than I already do?’

And the answer is always yes.

Then, Mai dances across your mind, a foolish smile appearing on your lips and leaving Nic to wonder what drug you are on at the moment. She knows, rolling her eyes with a smirk when she notices how distracted you’ve become.

She came over in need of your skill, wanting a new banner and a few extra graphics to dress up her website.

“Ah,” Nic dramatizes a sigh, wheeling her chair over to your desk, “what’s it like up there on cloud nine?” She elongates her words to string you along, looking down at the framed picture you have of Jungkook and Mai, a selfie they took some years back while on vacation. You remember it clearly because Mai had just turned five and Jungkook surprised her with a trip to her favorite amusement park. They sent you that selfie and a quick text telling you how much they missed you and wished you were there with them.

You have to laugh at the obviousness of it all; the three of you were a family before you even knew it.

“I would ask how your love life is but-” Nic looks back at you with an arched brow, “it’s pretty obvious how well that’s going.”

You widen your eyes, choosing to answer her query with a gentle nod.

But it’s Nic, she picks up on everything, even when you get back to work with a set determination. She purses her lips, searching for the right words to form her nosy question.

“I know you have something to say,” you lean back in your chair, pushing your digital art pen behind your ear before returning a sarky look toward Nic, “so no need for consideration - out with it.”

She gives you a look of innocence, fluttering her eyelashes at you, “you’ve sighed like a million times in the last hour, and despite how in love you are, I know you. So either you are exhausted with my presence or-” she drawls, waiting in expectation.

You open your mouth, and Nic is quick to press her finger against your lips, “I know you aren’t that tired of me.”

You push her hand away, laughing, “Okay, okay. It’s stupid-ugh, no. It’s not stupid, actually, and that’s bothering me.”

You think it should be simple, wanting to share in the physical act of love with the man you love.

Nic’s eyes wander your expression for more, steeping in confusion that mirrors the very same inside of you, “gonna need more than that.”

The two of you share in a silent stare-off, a moment that Nic knows is necessary while you try to piece together the tethered ends of your worries; “Mai passively suggested I move into their new house with them, come to find out they talked about it briefly before. Jungkook is all for it and it - I don’t know - it started this whole conversation…” You shake your head, trailing the end of your jumbled mind.

“Okay,” Nic continues to read your expression, noting the bend in your posture and shaking eyes, “okay, not the worst thing he could want considering this is Jeon Jungkook we’re talking-” she stops when you shoot her a flat look, “sorry okay, well, what was the conversation about?”

You round your eyes, “everything.”

Nic sighs your name, “literally giving me nothing to work with here.”

You groan out loud, tossing your head back until it hits the back of your chair, “because it’s not fair, he and I are finally in this place neither of us knew the other wanted until months ago, and now reality has wedged its way into our relationship and- I-I don’t know if we’re ready to answer all of these questions.”

“Questions like?” She motions with her hands to draw you out.

“Having sex!” The words spill out of you, leaving you to burn beneath the flame of embarrassment. It’s enough to make Nic sit back, eyes popped open and mouth slightly agape.

“Not-okay, god-not just that. Our conversation spiraled from moving in together to marriage, and now I’m afraid Jungkook doesn’t actually want to marry me- and before you ask, no, I don’t want to be married right now, but-” your shoulders drop even lower, “it is something I want with him.”

A loud exhale falls out of your friend, “Oof, okay, this is- yeah-this is a lot of baggage.”

“It’s a mixed pot of crap, is what it is Nic,” you groan.

“So,” the tone of her voice drags along, “I’m guessing you guys haven’t-”

“We sound like teenagers,” you roll your eyes, “no, Jungkook and I have not had sex, I wasn’t ready when he was, and am still not ready.”

She nods, “Okay, fair, but uh-that’s um-that’s kind of a bump, right? I mean, maybe not right this minute but I’m guessing you two wouldn’t have come this far if a long-term relationship wasn’t something you’re both aiming for? So, you know, that will become an area that needs to be discussed.”

You drop your head in your hands, “My stupid brain won’t stop patronizing me with his past,” you sit upright, hair askew, “his past that wasn’t that long ago, and- I don’t know…”

Nic sighs, understanding immediately and if she knew any better, was aware of this before you confirmed it, “there it is. Okay, so his past taunts you. Are you worried he’ll cheat on you?”

“No, Jungkook has done a lot of things but no I’m not worried-” you sigh, “I love him, I love Mai, I love the three of us together,” if not for the issue at hand, Nic could hear the musing sound of love in your tone, “but this has been an issue since before I fell in love with him and I can’t get it out of my head, even now.”

“You have to talk to him,” Nic repeats these words you remember so clearly from months ago, “that’s the only way you guys will know what step to take next or how to take it.”

“I know that, and we will, but-” you hesitate for a moment, “what if he really can’t commit to me. I mean, he has me, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anything else with anyone else, but I can’t stop seeing that look on his face when I mentioned marriage.”

“Look, this isn’t my relationship, babe,” Nic leans in, “and I’m just asking rhetorically here, but does marriage have to define his commitment to you?”

She knows you’ll answer her anyway by the set look in your eyes; “for me, it does.” You hate the way that sounds; “I know Jungkook, he’s been my best friend for so long and now we get to be in love and of course I want to express that to him in every variation we can,” a soft chuckle slips passed your lips, “but just because it is him doesn’t mean I change my standards, even if he is the only guy that knows me so well. For me, giving myself to him? It’s a serious commitment.”

“Don’t hate me for asking what I am about to ask, but does this mean if he doesn’t want to get married, you’re never going to sleep with your man? You’re just going to continue holding hands like Little House on the Prairie-”

A drawn-out scoff bellows out of you, tossing your pen at her, “You are supposed to be helping me, not making fun of me!”

“I’m kidding,” her tone changes with a hint of laughter, left over, “I respect you.”

You feel yourself blush at the prideful smile on you friend’s face as she looks at you; “A lot.”

A few quips are made before the two of you are working again, leaving the conversation to itself.

Drowning your worries about each other in work, communication between you and Jungkook is limited to sending goodnight texts and ‘I love you’s’ for a week straight.

As you make your way to Mai’s school, all you can think about is the last time you made this drive, prompted by a call from her principal, later listening to your best friend of many years tell you he loved you back. If it worked out then, somehow this could all work out now. Pulling into a visitor’s parking spot, something churns in your belly, the unknown making you skip a few steps of the staircase as you trail into the building.

There is a smell to every school that immediately launches you into some nostalgic place of remembering, pulling open the door to the main office before politely telling the secretary you were there for Mai. After confirming the emergency call list, she directs you back to the office where the principal is waiting at her desk. Mai’s teacher, Mrs. Yoon, is standing off to the side and offers you a head nod with a meek wave.

Instantly, you spot Mai, her body limp in the chair and head drooping. She isn’t swinging her feet like she often does when they can’t reach the ground, and she isn't playing with the hem of her shirt. The little girl hardly spares you a breath when she hears you call her name softly, rubbing the top of her head with a careful caress.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Ms. Park says, flashing a tight smile at you. “Mrs. Yoon has informed me that Mai was caught arguing with another classmate today, it appears she called her a name.”

Both teachers see the confusion blanket across your face, solidifying even for them the oddity of this entire ordeal. Mai has always been an obedient little girl, and though she got in trouble like any other child from time to time, this was outlandish for the Jeon Mai you’ve known since birth, “I’m sorry?”

Mrs. Yoon nods regretfully, “During reading hour, the two girls who share a table were going on and on. I initially thought they were just chatting, but when I made my way over, Mai-ehm- she called the other student, ‘stupid.’”

Mai’s head drops even lower, your eyes boring into her.

“Aside from her recent decline in class participation and work, we have never experienced any trouble with Mai before, not like this. So we are just as surprised as you but,” Ms. Park folds her hands over the desk, “we can’t treat her like any special case - she will need to come back on Saturday and serve a detention. We will send a letter home to her father about weekend work to make up for her missed assignments.”

A long sigh escapes you, nodding.

After the meeting, you make a call to Jungkook knowing it would be better to warn him rather than bombard him with the unfolding of his delinquent child. Mai drags herself to your car, staying a few feet ahead of you.

“Hey,” you breathe slowly when he picks up, noting the way Mai tenses her shoulders because she knows who you are talking to. In the background of the call, you can hear him driving, “Are you heading to another showing?”

“Nope,” he lets out a fake cheer, “finished up early, why?”

“Brace yourself,” you say slowly into the phone.

“What’s wrong? Is Mai okay?” The panic rises in his tone but you are quick to settle it, opening Mai’s door so she can hop in. She avoids your eyes, buckling herself in before you shut the door.

You stay outside of the car, “apparently, Mai called one of her classmates ‘stupid’ today.”

“What,” Jungkook laughs, disbelief apparent in his voice, “you’re kidding.”

“I don’t know who was more shocked, me or her teachers, but it’s true and sweet little bean has jail time this weekend,” you try to soften the blow with a small joke. Jungkook groans, his palm landing in a firm slap against the steering wheel.

“Alright,” he curses, “alright, I’ll see you girls in a minute.”

Your attempt to fill the quiet drive proves to be a failed one. “Bean?” You flit your eyes between the road and a sulking Mai in the backseat. She doesn’t acknowledge you, her chin sitting in the palm of her hand. She traces patterns onto her pants with her finger, bottom lip hanging low.

You clear your throat, pulling into Jungkook’s driveway. Mai sees him first, waiting at the door with his hands shoved inside his pockets. She groans, planting her forehead into her hand.

You pinch a smile as the two of you walk up to him. Jungkook kisses your cheek, his hand wrapping around the back of Mai’s neck while the three of you walk into the house. You put Mai’s things away while they walk into the living room. A force hangs around the little girl’s ankles the longer her father is silent. He tells her to sit on the sofa while he pulls up the ottoman, sitting right in front of her.

“So…?” Is all he says, clasping his hands together.

Mai’s chin falls against her chest, heavy breaths falling out of her nose, making it apparent she has no interest in discussing her mistake. You occupy yourself with Bam, quietly taking a seat out of Mai’s eyesight.

“Jeon Mai,” Jungkook tightens his tone, “you already have detention tomorrow, you want to be grounded next weekend too?”

Mai gasps, picking her head up and looking at her dad like he’s just betrayed her in the worst way, “Daddy that’s not fair, I didn’t even do anything!”

Jungkook’s pierced eyebrow quirks, “So calling your classmate stupid is okay?” He frowns.

Mai flings herself back into the cushion, her frown a carbon copy of her dad’s, “She deserved it.”

“Mai,” her name comes out as a harsh whisper from your mouth. Jungkook looks at you. Your body rattled from such a brazen thing for a 7-year-old to say, you disappear out into the back. Jungkook’s eyes are already back on his daughter, who is watching you out of the corner of her eye.

It was never easy to discipline Mai, especially when tears were sitting in the corners of her eyes. No matter how large her mistake, Jungkook often teetered on the edge of caving because he couldn’t stand seeing his daughter cry or hurt in any way. But he stiffened his upper lip just like every other time, leaning forward in anticipation of her side of the story.

Mai’s eyes smoke with frustration when she opens her mouth to say something before closing it again, “Never mind,” she mumbles, head falling back against the sofa cushion, “nobody ever listens anyways,” her tiny voice argues.

“We’re going to your classmate’s house so you can apologize, Saturday after-”

“No!” Mai yells, a look of horror painting her tiny features, “Daddy, I don’t wanna go to her house, I already said sorry in Ms. Park’s office-”

“No exceptions,” Jungkook shoos Bam out of the way, Mai’s protector. At any sound of distress, the lanky dog appears to assure his miniature owner is safe; “what’s going on, huh? First, the teacher-parent conference, and now this?” You note the slight spiral Jungkook appears to be in.

Mai sniffles, using the back of her hand to wipe her eyes, “I don’t care about school,” she whimpers. Crocodile tears staining her perfectly round cheeks.

Jungkook expresses his exhaustion with a sigh, a deep breath rounds his chest before he inches closer to his daughter. “Come on bud, you’ve always loved school- what’s going on?” He wipes each tear that follows.

Mai hiccups a couple of times, her teardrops only growing larger and making the ache in Jungkook’s heart greater. He swallows back the lump forming in his throat, allowing Bam to nestle himself between them, resting his snout on Mai’s knee. For a moment, the three of them are stuck in the center of a storm, Mai’s deep cries filling up the space.

“What is it, baby?” Jungkook soothes her, his tattooed hand grabbing onto her small one. Her broken words are the only sound heard for the next minute before she musters up the courage to speak.

“Th-there’s a dance,” Mai cries, her tiny body taken over by emotion. She looks at her dad when he tells her to take a deep breath, following his instruction a few times over.

“A dance?” He asks softly, rubbing her fingers between his.

“Mhm,” Mai nods, eyes red but the tears have stopped flowing now, “f-for kids and their moms.”

Jungkook inhales, eyes closing for only a second before he’s staring right into his daughter’s eyes. He can’t allow her to see the break in his own eyes, “for moms, hm?”

“That girl was asking me about my mom, and I got mad,” Mai pouts, her finger tracing one of Jungkook’s tattoos, “I called her stupid…”

He breathes in through his teeth, nodding, “okay kiddo, listen to me-” Jungkook takes Mai’s chin, directing her to look at him, “you understand why you gotta’ apologize to her, right? And properly?”

Mai just nods.

“Okay,” he sighs, dropping his hand to engulf both of hers in one, “I am sorry you are hurting, bean. You need to tell me these things as soon as they happen, yeah?” He squeezes her hands, “How else is Dad going to know when you need my help unless you tell me?”

“’Cause I-it’s embarrassing, daddy,” Mai’s voice cracks, “it’s not fair that I don’t get to go j-just because-” Mai frowns, “it’s just not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but you know what you got, right?” Jungkook pulls Mai’s hands to rest them on top of his shoulders, his hands moving to hold her around her ribcage, he utters your name and the mere sound of it creates a thin smile on Mai’s face, “and you have a Hamny, Nunu, and two poppas- you even got this dummy-” Jungkook and Mai look down at Bam who is in desperate want of some love himself, “and you have me forever, Jeon Mai, you can’t forget about me.”

He reaches around her neck and taps his fingers there gently, swimming in the sound of his daughter’s giggles. Bam hops around the furniture as the sound of Mai’s repaired joy leaps out of her body, seeping into the walls of her bedroom.

After sorting out her punishment, Jungkook leaves Mai to start her homework, slipping through the sliding glass door to find you. You look at him as he makes his way over, a look of wonder on your face, “I was sure they were talking about the wrong kid.”

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, shaking his head.

It was a long week, and all three of you were feeling it. From work, school, and the wavering questions surrounding your relationship. You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist, kissing the center of his chest, then looking up at him.

He groans, dropping his hands to rest on your sides, “I thought we settled all of this at the parent-teacher meeting last week.”

“Oh, you never did tell me what happened,” you say, resting your chin against his chest. He smooths his hands up and down your back, the two of you looking at each other. Neither acknowledges any reason for the week-long radio silence.

“Yeah-um,” his eyes strain, the vein in his neck protruding, “apparently math isn’t the only class her grades are suffering in,” he lets you go, “she’s almost failing math actually, hasn’t brought home her science homework for the last couple of weeks, isn’t reading their assigned book for the year-” he shakes his head.

Your sharp inhale alerts Jungkook, “What? This isn’t like her-”

“I know that, I know my kid,” he spats back.

He catches the surprise in your face, noting how short he’s been in the last week, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just-there’s a lot going on and it seems to be happening all at once,” he breathes, reaching out for you to grab his hand. You move forward on weary feet before taking it, allowing him to pull you into another hug.

“We’ll figure this out,” you assure him, rubbing his back, “maybe-um, just focus on Mai right now, she’s important.”

So are you, he thinks to himself.

He leans forward and pecks your lips, “Maybe we can de-stress,” he kisses you again, “in the hot tub, after she goes to bed.”

Suddenly, your tongue swells, depleting you of any sound response, eyes struggle to meet his. The embers of desire stoke inside of you, but everything else wills you to create distance. If not for Jungkook’s mindful hold around you, you are sure you’d fall back.

“I can’t,” you feign disappointment, “I shouldn’t, it’s the middle of the week.”

He questions you with a look.

You lean up to kiss his cheek before moving his arms from around you, “Not tonight, Kook.”

“Okay,” he feels dissatisfied with your reason, following you back to the front door. Before you can get into your car, Jungkook tugs your arm, bringing you back to him.

“Jungkook,” you breathe tirelessly.

“Need a favor,” he laughs, “for Mai.”

Your ears perk up, body relaxing in his arms. Jungkook pretends not to notice the way you tensed initially.

“Um-there’s a dance, I guess, for uh-well for the kids and their moms-”

A small gasp escapes you, “Oh no.” Your heart launches into your throat, face falling.

Heart stuttering in his chest, your reaction for Mai always so deep he can feel it inside of himself, “you think you’d want to take her?”

“Of course,” you say in a breath, “oh my gosh, of course I’ll take her.”

All he can do is repay you in the way he’s most confident in, hands squeezing you before he peppers your lips with kisses, “I love you.”

You push his face back, skin warming beneath his touch, “You know I’d do anything for her.”

His eyes twinkle as they drink you in, but you can see a measure of worry in them; “I know we have a lot to discuss,” he starts, “but we’re gonna be okay, yeah? You and Me?”

You want to settle his worry, but fear invades you like a virus and gnaws at your stomach, “just - one thing at a time.”

You feel his hold around you faintly loosen, but you mask it by telling him you’ll help him pack up some more boxes since Mai wasn’t going to be around Saturday. He’s disappointed, but rather than question you, he thanks you and opens your car door, pulling your chin to kiss you goodbye.

Jungkook lays in bed that night, becoming too familiar with this sleeplessness. His hands lay behind his head while he stares up at the ceiling, watching your weariness paint a picture across the white expanse of his bedroom.

He recalls this helpless feeling when you walked away from the cruise ship, leaving him with the notion that you were done with him entirely. Mai enters his mind and an audible scoff comes out like poison, forcing him to shut his eyes because he can’t bear that pain. But it’s a burden he is forever vowed to in order to protect his daughter. Despite how apologetic she was, he could see something brewing in her. Not like anything he’d seen before when this issue about her absent mother would come up.

All he wanted was in his hands: his daughter and you. As sleep finally rained over him like a heavy storm, he couldn’t help feeling like what he finally had a grasp on was beginning to slip through his fingers.

“I swear there’s an echo, listen-” you stop to allow quiet into the empty house, looking at Jungkook who is smirking at you, “HELLO!”

Jungkook pretends to listen with anticipatory glee, eyes gliding across the vast space of his new home while Bam sniffs around the tiled floor.

Silence.

You pout, opening your mouth to try a different sound before Jungkook gently places his hand over your mouth, “just admit defeat, babe- this is hard to watch.”

You click your tongue, pushing his hand away, only for him to grab your arm, turning you in one swift motion that has your head spinning, caging you in his arms. His voice vibrates against your back and into your ear: " You are cute, though.” His words are muddled when he kisses your cheek.

“Clingy,” you shoot back as he walks the two of you around their new living room.

He chuckles, squishing your cheeks when he turns your face so he can kiss you.

“Alright,” you argue, ducking your head away when you realize he doesn’t just want a single kiss, “let’s move Mai’s boxes into her room,” you squirm until he finally releases you, “I want her new bed to be built so she can see it and like me more than you.”

He tongues his cheek, “Really?”

You hold your hands behind your back, turning about to portray the picture of an innocent girlfriend, “yup.”

“Okay, let’s make a bet,” he says, eyeing the box filled with pieces of Mai’s new bed frame, a light bulb appearing above his head, “I’ll carry all of the boxes in if you can build her bed by yourself.”

Your eyes pop open, “By myself?”

He tips his head, crossing his arms in expectation of you waving your white flag. But it doesn’t surprise him when you slit your eyes together, lips revealing a pearly smile, “deal, Jeon.”

The two of you become lost in your work. At first, the tasks sound unfair. You build while Jungkook unloads the truck; easy! But when you peer out of Mai’s soon-to-be bedroom window every so often, you realize Jungkook received the short end of the stick. The edges of summer are making their way into the city a little early, and today the sun is blazing. Jungkook abandoned his shirt an hour into it, tying it around his head so the sweat wouldn’t drip into his eyes.

You purse your lips, the sun rays doing a fantastic job at highlighting your boyfriend’s sharp muscles.

Building and a show?

“What are you smiling about?” Jungkook appears with one of Mai’s boxes. You’ve been caught in a daydream and stutter your way out of it.

“Oh-uh, how glorious it’s going to be when I finish this first and get to sit back with Bam while you unpack that truck,” you lie.

Jungkook squats in front of you, “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” you tap his nose with the flathead screwdriver, “I can love you and relax at the same time, can’t I?”

Jungkook laughs it off, leaning forward for a kiss, and when you motion to meet him the rest of the way, he dodges you and stands upright, laughing his way out of the room and leaving you with puckered lips and a curse to his name.

But who gets the last laugh? You think to yourself as you stand over Mai’s completed bed some hours later. Hands on your hips, Bam prances in and bumps your wrist with his nose.

“Not bad, huh, bud?” You press his floppy ear between your fingers, caressing his favorite spot, “let’s go rub it in your dad’s face.”

It wasn’t long ago that you heard Jungkook moving boxes into his bedroom down the hall, retracing his steps toward that room with a trophy smile on your face and a taunting remark at the helm, “Kook?”

All of that seeps away when you find him lying back on his naked mattress, hands folded on his stomach, and t-shirt back on. The sweat has since disappeared from his hair and his skin hasn’t a trace of red tint from the sun. He pokes his head up, “Finally.”

Your mouth drops open, “How?”

He laughs, head falling back and eyes relaxing, “You were so concentrated on finishing her bed, I didn’t want to bug you, but I enjoyed my forty-five-minute nap while waiting for you.”

You blink, mouth tightening when you hear a tapping sound.

“Winner gets cuddles,” he sounds off, his hand patting the space next to him, “come here.”

You stubbornly cross your arms instead. After a few seconds that feel like a lifetime, Jungkook sits up on his elbows. “Or I can toss you over my shoulder and tickle you instead, your choice, baby.”

You drag your feet over to the bed, crawling next to Jungkook but not before pushing him back down with a forceful thud against the pillowy mattress. You lay back in a huff, ignoring the way he’s snickering at your sore-loser mentality.

He clears his throat, “waiting…”

“Tch-” you throw your arms straight up into the air, allowing him to curl into your side, his arm lying across your chest, and head resting right next to yours. He lets out a contented sigh when you drape your arms around him, smirking when he feels your fingers card through his hair. As much as you hate losing to your boyfriend, the sore feelings never last when he cuddles into you like this.

You can feel him watching you, and you turn to playfully argue, but the twinkle in his eyes spark a fire in the pit of your stomach that makes you forget everything.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook is bringing your head closer to his until he pecks your lips. “Thank you for building her bed,” he says in a mindful tone; “I hoped we would do it together, but you looked determined.” His fingers threaded in your hair start to massage your scalp.

“I was,” your voice almost doesn’t make it out, making Jungkook giggle. He hums into another kiss against your lips, moving to hover over you this time. His hand is imprinted into the side of your neck, thumb sweeping across your jaw until it’s pressed against your chin.

It’s like pulling teeth when he moves away to take in your expression, your body hurdled into a war despite becoming pliable to his touch, your hand having inched a good distance beneath his shirt, but he has to see your face first. Neither of you says anything, allowing you to hear the alarm going off in your head.

Jungkook closes the gap, body on top of you. His lips brush against your skin, leaving it to tingle when he latches onto your neck. His hands move lower, seeking out the hem of your shirt.

You start to frown when he’s successful, moving his fingers underneath the material, effectively causing the imaginary alarm to blare around you. Mind aware and heart battering in your chest, you pull your hands away from his stomach and find his wrists, gripping them so tightly that Jungkook hisses.

“S-stop,” you say against his mouth, and Jungkook reacts with a cat-like sense, pulling back; “we have to stop.” He places his hands on either side of your head while his eyebrows knit together. You let out a shaking breath, pulling his arm up and away so you can roll off the bed and onto your feet.

He breathes a broken apology, “I misread-”

“I-um,” you’re chasing after steady breaths as you smooth your hair down, “it’s almost time to pick up Mai.”

Jungkook sits back on his feet, trying to hide his confusion because he can feel it from you. For those few minutes, you and Jungkook are finally on the same page.

Both of you aware there is still another hour or so before she gets out of school, he nods anyway.

After eating dinner together on a blanket in the middle of their empty house, Jungkook practically has to chase after you when you go out to your car. He’s impressed, albeit a little hurt too, at how quickly you get in before he can give you a proper goodbye. But not wanting to tip off his daughter that something weird is happening, he just waves as you back out of the driveway.

“Did you leave your homework out so I can check it?” Jungkook asks Mai once back at their old house, tucking her into bed.

Mai rolls her eyes, answering him like she has been interrogated, “Yes, Dad.”

He clamps his hand over her face, gently jolting her head side to side until she’s laughing, both of her hands wrapping around his wrist, “might want to re-think the way you answer me, bud.”

“Sorry,” she finally says once he releases her. He kisses her cheek, steeping in the few seconds she reaches her arms around his neck for a hug before he wishes her sweet dreams.

He falls onto the sofa with a loud huff, wine glass in hand, while the other is patting Bam’s thigh. There is hardly a time he didn’t enjoy having you there with him. Some nights with the two of you snuggled under a blanket watching a scary movie, others spent talking out in the backyard until it was time to go to bed, and the rest, kissing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. Admittedly, he enjoys those nights because he can watch you sleep for a little bit.

But tonight, he needs the time alone, even if his mind is ravaged with worry. The worry that started as a seedling the night you told him you weren’t ready was only growing. It started to sprout when you mentioned marriage.

Jungkook is more than willing to wait; that isn’t a question. Is it hard?

He sighs, eyes clamping shut; it is very hard. And not because he can’t control the need in him, but because he loves you. He wants to express that to you, and if he knows you at all, he can sense the same in you.

So what was stopping you?

His eyes pop open, temples throbbing when the answer bleeds into his brain.

Flashes of you throughout the years replay in front of him like an old film strip. Recalling the time after you both confessed, when you described to him the sheer aches in your body any time he talked about some date he went on. Or how sick you felt when he would leave a club with another woman running her nails against his back.

He curses when a vivid memory invades him, it doesn’t matter how tightly shut his eyes are. He can still see the look on your face.

After a night out with friends, you were ready to call it a night. Jungkook never carpooled, considering his after-party plans always varied. You roll your eyes at the thought, forcing it away because, at least for one night, he actually wanted to stay with all of you.

With your friends gathering their things, you ask Nic for her keys so you can wait in the car. She tells you Jungkook asked for them a little bit ago- something about a co-worker calling him, and he needed to take the call somewhere quiet. After two failed attempts at calling Jungkook, you text him this time.

[1:04 AM] to Jungkook: we’re coming out now, meet us at the car.

Off you go, surprised because, as tipsy as you are, you remember where it’s parked. You grimace as your feet pound, swollen from a night of dancing, as you make your way over. Spotting the car, you don’t see any sign of Jungkook, assuming he is already sitting in the back.

Pulling at the handle, you don’t hear the heavy breaths and sounds of ecstasy at first (also escaping you is the sheer terror that puts a stop to those noises when they hear the car door swing open).

It’s only when you bend to get into the backseat do you lock eyes with a friend of a friend before noticing her wrinkled dress. Worse, though, is when you look over a few inches and see Jungkook’s wide eyes blinking back at you.

All of you curse apologies before you slam the door shut, making for the building in a desperate jog back to the group. You can no longer feel the splitting pain in the heels of your feet, or how tired your legs are. You’re certain that how you just found your best friend, in a very compromising position with this woman, has sobered you up completely. Going amiss is the way Jungkook is buckling his belt and calling after you when he and the friend hastily fix themselves before stepping out of the car.

He abandons his glass of wine, dropping his head back against the sofa.

Jungkook wants you. He has so much he wants to prove to you. He wants to know what scares you but what he doesn’t expect is how vulnerable he’s been feeling. Marriage? He doesn’t disagree that there are still things to discuss.

He wonders if that ache in your body that you felt all that time ago is the same feeling pressing against his bones now.

“I know that look all too well.” Your mom walks back into the living room, finding you sitting with a cat in your lap, your attention taken by the ceiling they just had redone.

She meets your eyes with a knowing smile, patting your knee when she sits at the other end. The cat stretches and abandons you for her mother; “traitor,” you pout, lovingly swatting her fluffy tail. She spares you a single blink before cozying into your mom’s lap.

“Out with it,” your mom forwards the conversation. You want to laugh, hearing yourself in your mom.

Your fingers tingle with nostalgic feelings of a hormonal, teenage girl. Your mother can see the way you begin to blush beneath your skin, her senses causing her to draw back in a way that she knows can draw you out.

“Jungkook and I-ehm-” you struggle to start, “uh-we’re coming to our first- pothole? In our relationship, but it’s-ugh, it’s a big pothole, Mom.”

“Okay,” her eyes carefully observe you and the way you retreat into yourself. The daughter she raised, who is naturally so modest, so much so, you didn’t tell her when you first started your period until a week later; “something that has you feeling- hmm- nervous, maybe?”

“Mm,” you hum, picking at your fingernails despite the fresh manicure you just had done, “it’s weird, mom.”

She chuckles, “You want me to turn away while you tell me?”

Your expressionless eyes find hers in a deadpan. She presses her lips together apologetically, remembering all those years she would do so whenever you had something embarrassing to talk about with her. She chuckles when you nod before looking down at the purring cat in her lap.

You drop your face into your hands and laugh, though nothing about this is that amusing to you, “god if I can’t even talk to my own mother about it, how am I ever going to do it.”

“Honey,” your mom spats, “maybe start by using the proper terminology for it, you’re an adult for heaven’s sake, just say, ‘mom, I’m having trouble with the idea of making love-’”

“Oh, mom,” you grimace, covering your ears like a child, “please, I remember the crash course you gave me on proper sex terminology when I was in high school, okay?”

Your mom laughs, patting the cat’s behind until it jumps off, “Oh, you are too modest for your own good- okay okay.” She moves over to you, pulling your hands away from your head and placing them in your lap, “I’m all ears- whenever you’re ready.”

You drop your head back, resting it against the back of the sofa.

“I’m not going into grave detail-”

“Nor do I want you to, sweetheart,” your mom cuts in.

You close your eyes, lips tipped into a half smile, while your skin boils with sheer embarrassment.

“You and Dad- did you guys wait until you were married?” You’re surprised when the question makes it out into the open air. Your mom is quiet, pulling you to look at her. She answers with a simple shake of the head.

“How did you- when did you know you were ready?” You ask.

Your mom tips her head to the side in a thoughtful manner, “he proved to me long before that I was safe with him, his actions said a lot more than any of the sweet words other men used prior to when I was with daddy.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of your mom’s previous love life, abandoning that thought before it produces further in your head.

“I don’t feel unsafe with Jungkook,” you start to think more deeply, “he makes me feel heard, seen, and very wanted-” you breathe a soft laugh.

“Good, it’s what you deserve,” your mom nudges your chin with her knuckle, winking at you when you look at her, “but it’s okay if you want to wait until marriage honey, and Jungkook is a good man, raised with a lot of love, and by the way he could hardly take his eyes off of you the last time we were together, I can see he loves you and respects you. He’ll wait if those things continue to motivate him.”

You know those truths, you believe them. Jungkook is a good man who had a colorful love life that he readily abandoned for you. You know how understanding he is and to some degree, you know he would wait. Marriage. You want it, you want it with him, but Jungkook’s seeming hesitance to it makes the knot in your stomach grow.

“We’re human, we have natural desires, especially when we are in love with someone, and that’s okay too.” Your mom lifts her eyebrows when you give her a certain look, “What is it that’s making you hesitant?”

“What?” Your tired expression is clear on your face, causing Nic to push her hand against the door when you move to close it; “I am here to pull you out of your hole of self-pity,” she quips.

You sigh, too worn to put up a fight. She returns the same expression as she walks into your apartment, turning to face you when you shut the door behind you.

“You have to stop this, this isn’t healthy for you or for Jungkook, who has no idea why you’re ghosting him,” she parrots the same lecture she’s been texting you for the last week. You don’t respond, tilting your head to the side while you cross your arms.

“Seriously-”

“God, Nic, I don’t care, okay?! I told you this would never go past what I am choosing to keep to myself.” You spat.

Nic calls your name desperately, “Do you really believe that?” She waves her hands to keep you from answering that, “Okay- whatever if you do, but how do you expect your friendship with Jungkook to last when you randomly cut him off like this? I know he’s annoying, it can be questionable the number of women he sleeps with but it’s his life. Like, come on, the guy has zero clue about your feelings. So he’s going to keep doing what he does best if you never tell him.”

“Nic-”

In her frustration, Nic, who is usually sound, has come to her wits end about it; “This is a waste of time anyway, the guy can’t commit to a single thing.”

You inhale sharply, misty eyes looking into your lap. It was the only fight you and Nic had that carried scars, though the two of you worked it out soon after. You apologized for roping her into that mess while she apologized for speaking so thoughtlessly.

“I just want to be sure he is committed to me first,” you admit, voice as small as the pattering feet of a garden mouse.

Your mom nods, pinching her lips together in a sympathetic smile, “I am sure he wants the same thing, sweetheart.”

Busy schedules and tempered feelings create more time away than you consciously intended. While seeing them for only a few hours at a time as opposed to your usual nights with them, Mai and Jungkook are in their last week at the old house. Walking into its near emptiness, you’re glad you brought the things you had to help Mai get ready for the dance.

Jungkook doesn’t outwardly question the recent distance, having filled his time with more open houses than he normally would. He has to remind himself to stay grounded while keeping you in his grasp, while his daughter has been growing quieter by the day.

It surprises him when she jumps into your arms, running her mouth a mile a minute about how excited she is that you both bought matching-colored dresses for the dance. Jungkook barely has a chance to kiss you before Mai pulls you down the hallway to start getting ready.

You curl the last piece of Mai’s hair, feeling her dark eyes fan over you for the umpteenth time through the bathroom mirror. With bobby pins between your teeth, you let out a breathy laugh, combing your fingers through her curls.

“Something on my face, bean?” You twist a section of her hair and pin it to the back of her head, doing the same on the other side of her face.

“Na-uh,” a faint smile wiggles onto her face, hands busying themselves with the hair products strewn across the bathroom counter. Her eyes move up to yours once more, alight with Jeon-like wonder.

You protect her eyes with your hand, “deep breath and hold it,” you instruct her, a cloud of hairspray falling over her perfectly done hair, “there we go.”

Mai opens her eyes and beams back at her reflection, eyes darting up to your face and for a moment, you see that light in her flicker brightly.

“Woah, look at my girl,” Jungkook surprises the pair of you, leaning against the door frame. Mai squeals, pushing past him and running to her bedroom, “You can’t see me yet, Dad!” You and Jungkook laugh; “geez, Kook,” you tease him, pecking his cheek before retreating to Mai’s room.

Jungkook ventures off to his room, getting himself ready to be a chaperone for the dance. An adoring smile appears on his face because any small gesture like the joke you made, gave him hope that the two of you would always be okay. For that minute, he didn’t worry about the right timing or what your future together looked like aside from knowing you wanted to be together forever. Jungkook knew that much.

After taking a slew of photos like it was prom night, the three of you walk into the school auditorium with Mai bouncing in her new dress shoes you bought for her, her hands holding tightly onto yours and her dad’s. She wears a proud smile, missing teeth and all, beaming up at you, she wastes no time begging you for a dance.

“Have fun,” Jungkook motions to kiss her forehead when she takes a large step back. Small voice struggling to voice off above the loud music, “daddy,” she whines through gritted teeth, “my friends are here.”

He frowns, grabbing both sides of her head and planting a kiss on her forehead; “My hair!” She squeaks.

He makes quick work to smooth down her curled tresses, “Deny your dad’s kiss again and I’ll kiss you on the lips next time, bean.” Jungkook playfully threatens Mai.

You pinch back a smile, rubbing his shoulder, before Mai pulls you into the mass of mothers and daughters. Jungkook doesn’t steep in reverence over his daughter’s attitude for long, conversing his way through a crowd of parent-acquaintances before finding a place against the wall where he can watch the two of you.

Lost in that sight, he doesn’t shy away from smiling and giggling to himself. Jungkook pushes his hands inside his pockets, making it a point to silently tell himself to remember this exact moment. A smile stains his daughter’s lips while she looks up at you, and if he concentrates enough, the music disappears, and instead, he hears her giggling when you spin her around twice. Mai’s eyes are shut, lost in a fit of laughter, struggling to stand on steady feet, her arms wrapping around you to keep from falling. Your head tosses back, caught between breathy laughs as your hands hold onto the little girl’s shoulders.

“Mr. Jeon,” a familiar voice calls out to him. Hesitantly, he takes his eyes off you and Mai and sees Mrs. Yoon. He shakes her hand, a warm smile appears on her face when she looks over at his daughter.

“Nice to see her smiling,” Mrs. Yoon admits, “she’s so quiet these days, I almost miss how chatty she was during my class, not sure if her other teachers would agree-” she chuckles, shrugging.

Jungkook rocks back on his feet, agreeing quietly.

“How is her classwork?” He inquires. Mrs. Yoon tells him it still needs improvement, but with more diligence on Mai’s end, her grade should pick up before school lets out for vacation.

The two settle for polite chat before Mrs. Yoon leaves him be. Jungkook finds the two of you again, stomach churning as he recalls that shift in his daughter. How evident it’s become in the last few weeks, especially without you there as often.

But tonight, he smiles, watching his daughter. No traces of her unexplained silence or that she is a little less talkative and hyper. He just sees Mai, the light of his life.

A laugh slips out of him, drawing others around him to look in the direction his eyes are fixed. A new song starts to play, and Mai jumps when she realizes what’s playing. Her mouth rounds, arms sticking straight up, “It’s our song!” She shouts at you.

Your lips curve into a wide smile, heart palpitating because she remembered you telling her months ago that this song reminded you of her. Mai screeches with glee when you lift her into your arms, her arms tying around your neck. For a moment, a toddler Mai appears right before your eyes, and you remember how her hands could not quite yet reach each other when she held you around your neck. An unexpected rush of love swells your heart just like it did all those years ago.

Mai giggles close to your ear as the two of you sing the lyrics together. You pull your face back to watch her expressions; her happiness creating an insurmountable feeling of ecstasy. It’s overwhelming and everything you need. Holding her in your arms, you hope it’s the same for her.

Jungkook blinks away the tears spilling in his eyes, his cheeks hurting from how long he’s been smiling. He starts singing the lyrics to distract himself, recalling that night.

It had become a tradition of sorts, ending dinner out in the backyard so Mai and Bam could use up the last of their energy. You and Jungkook would watch them, sometimes joining in on a game of tag or hide and seek.

He looks at you for a second, smiling when you start to giggle. Your eyes watching Mai; “what?” He asks.

“Hm,” you chuckle, “this is my ‘Mai’ playlist,” You turn to look at him, revealing a bashful smile, “this is our song.” Jungkook makes an effort to listen to the lyrics that utter sentiments of an enchanting meeting.

Before the song can end, Jungkook makes his way over to the two of you, making himself the only dad out on the floor.

He brushes his hand down Mai’s hair who was too lost in hugging you while the rest of the song played.

“Oh, hey,” you chuckle, Mai’s cheek still pressed against yours. Mai is quick to move her arm around Jungkook’s neck, pulling him close until his nose bumps your other cheek. The three of you giggle, making room for an extra set of feet. Jungkook settles to wrap you both in his arms, his left arm hugging your waist while the other rests around Mai’s.

He kisses the side of Mai’s head, a long sigh slipping past his lips when he finds you, your eyes already on him. You hear a few clicks of the school photographer’s camera nearby, allowing them to capture this moment of the three of you. Mai sings along to the song while holding onto the two of you, you and Jungkook sharing in a silent conversation. But you can hear him loud and clear, the love he has for you reaches across and ties around your heart.

“I love you, bean.” You press a long kiss on her cheek, coming back to see a blushing little babe, “thanks for taking me to the dance.” Mai holds your cheeks, showing you her smile because she knows how much you love to see her missing teeth, “love you,” she follows.

“You have fun?” You chuckle, tucking the comforter around her.

She nods, “I think we danced the best,” she yawns. Brushing her hair out of her face, you push your finger into her cheek, “We did, you’re a great dance partner.”

Jungkook appears with a soft giggle, his shirt untucked and feet now bare. He comes over to say goodnight, bending down to kiss Mai before sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, it’s quiet, you notice Mai look up at you then back at her dad.

“I need to tell daddy something,” she starts, “but you can’t be here.”

You roll your lips in, trying not to laugh before granting them their privacy.

“What’s up, bud?” Jungkook leans over Mai’s legs, propping his head against his hand.

“Mm,” Mai purses her lips, “it kinda’ felt like-” he can see her cheeks growing red, eyes struggling to meet his. He assures her with a smile, reaching over to brush his finger across her chin, “You feel happy?”

Mai nods, pulling her blanket up to hide the smile growing on her face, “It felt like I had a mom.” Her words come out quickly and muffled behind the blanket.

Jungkook’s heart stutters, finger tapping against his daughter’s cheek, “yeah?”

Mai nods again, “but don’t tell her.”

Jungkook drops his head, laughing into his daughter’s mattress.

He kisses her goodnight once more, allowing Bam to sleep with her for the night. Mai rests her small hand on top of Bam’s head when he lies on her stomach. His puppy eyes looking up at Jungkook; “just tonight,” he reiterates.

You stare at your phone, re-watching a video of you dancing with Mai that one of the moms sent to you. Jungkook slides his arms around your waist, causing you to jump up, “god,” you laugh with him, leaning your head back when he kisses you there.

“What’s that?” He muffles into your hair, twisting his head around to kiss your cheek before he’s resting his chin on top of your shoulder. His hands glide across your stomach when you play the video.

You feel his chest bounce against your back when he giggles, “Guess I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed watching you guys,” Jungkook admits. You turn your head to look at him before kissing his forehead.

It doesn’t take much for Jungkook to become lost in you, completely wrapped up and overtaken by absolute love. His lips hardly detach from yours when he turns you around in his arms. Heavy breath fanning over your face. Admittedly, you can’t deny what he stirs up in you. These feelings that battle against the fears demanding to be felt by you.

He groans against your kiss, pulling away to drop his forehead against your shoulder. You bite your lip, knowing already what’s starting. You rub the back of his head.

He reappears, his pupils blown out into hundreds of tiny hearts, “I love you,” he blushes, breathy chuckle escaping him, “this is going to sound like the douchiest thing I’ll ever say to you but, I love you so much it’s starting to hurt.”

A battle of tug of war starts inside of you, one end of the rope tugging you closer to Jungkook. You rub your palm down his cheek, your soft laugh falling in his ears, “it’s a little cringe but-” you shrug, your other hand dropping around his hip, “I love you, too.”

He closes the space, seeking out your lips. That rope inside you tugging you back when his palms smooth over your hips before pressing into them with his fingers. He walks backward until your lower back hits the kitchen counter.

“You’re so good to us,” he whispers into the kiss he’s pressing against your ear. Biting your lip, your hands push against him- everything in you wanting to give in. And for a moment, with your boyfriend’s lips trailing down your shoulder, you feel that wall begin to crumble brick by brick.

“I love you,” he parrots against your skin, tattooing you with another chaste kiss.

He stops, pressing his forehead against yours. You fall into his dark pools, a spark in them blinding you. All at once, the bricks build back up, and the need to protect yourself jolts through you like a lightning bolt.

Out of body, you can feel when Jungkook’s hands brush across your bottom, but in your place is another woman. You can’t see her face, you just know it isn’t you. He’s holding her close, his lips tantalizingly grazing her skin.

“Kook,” you stutter.

He moans in response, lips pressed against your clavicle, warm tongue pushing beyond the seam of his lips. A different woman appears this time, body stamped with Jungkook’s languid and thoughtful touches.

Your mind wages a war between the man in love with you and the man from the past.

He doesn’t commit. He loves you, but he won’t commit to you.

“Jungkook,” you push with more fervency, but you see the haze over him. You see that look in his eye that he’d given countless women on your nights out as friends. Just friends.

“Stop it-” you push him away, and his body gives at the first sound of panic in your tone. His hair is disheveled, lips stained with you.

“What-” he tries to piece together some sort of understanding, breathless.

“Don’t you listen?” Your tone is so defensive, it causes a piercing pain inside of him. Your shoulder hits him as you make your way to the door.

He drops his head, eyes clamped shut, while something bigger brews inside of him.

Of course, he hears you. He always hears you. Not having you, that wasn’t the entire problem.

All of these thoughts ravage his mind, and he follows you like a trailblazer, shutting the front door before you can escape.

“What are you doing?” His irritation only sets yours ablaze.

You pull your arm away before he can touch you, “trying to leave-”

“No,” he struggles through frustration, “why are we skirting around this? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I have the right to say no-”

“Baby,” he tosses his hands in the air, an exasperated laugh falling out of him, “shi- of course I know that. But I’m at a loss, we’ve been all over each other enough times before, what changed? Kissing you is starting to feel like I’m forcing you-”

You shake your head, “I’m not one of your women, Jungkook, don’t treat me like them.”

His face falls, everything on his body falls; your name draws out of him, “I’ve never seen you as anyone else but the woman I love-the woman I have so much damn respect for…”

“Then commit to me,” your voice shakes out of you, surprising even you, “prove to me that that’s true and tell me you’d want to marry me.”

Jungkook drops his head, tongue pushing into the side of his cheek.

A tempered laugh falls out of you, “or should I sleep with you first? Would that make it easier for you to commit-”

“What are you-are you serious?” Jungkook cracks, “How much more can I prove to you?” The shattering in his eyes bores right into you, “Do I need to tattoo it onto my chest-” he grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks it open, “to prove to you that I love you and I am dedicated to you? Wh-why do we need a stupid piece of paper to prove our love for each other? What does it matter if you can’t trust what I’m saying- if you can’t trust me?”

“Why don’t you want to get married? Why is it stupid?” You rap back.

“Because!” He yells out of frustration, hands tossed forward, “I’m afraid you’re just going to leave me! What good does a paper do when you can’t even stand me touching you? It won’t make you stay-” his words drop like an atomic bomb, an eerie silence following.

He sniffles, barely able to look in your direction. Your hands ache from how tightly fisted they are, chest weighed down from holding back the tears inside.

“Just go,” he opens the door, “if you really believe I’ve only seen you as some other woman this entire time, still? Then leave.”

You blink, flashes of the past taunting you before you escape to your car. Jungkook stares at the door after you leave, defeat washed over him.

Jungkook throws himself into packing up their house and moving into the new one. Between work, taking care of Mai, and moving, he isn’t allowed to think about anything else, too tired by the end of the night to lie awake in bed. The only time he entertains a thought about you is when Mai sleeps in her brand-new bed for the first night.

Jungkook sends you a picture of it, Mai giving a thumbs up, sitting at the head of the bed you built for her. A second later he FaceTimes you and for a moment you hesitate to answer, waiting to the last second before you hit that green button.

Mai’s face appears on the screen, you notice the downward turn in her eyes immediately before she’s distracting you with a loud thanks. Her smile makes the butterflies in your stomach come alive.

When she’s done talking, she hands the phone back to her dad. His eyes struggle to keep their focus on you while he tells Mai to get under the blanket, “We’re uh- we’re still good for next week?” He finally looks at you. You nod. He has a brief trip for a seminar, leaving Mai to stay at your apartment for a couple of days during the week.

“Can we bring Bammie-” Jungkook is already cutting Mai off, telling her he’ll wreck your apartment by his sheer size. You chuckle, enjoying the father-daughter moment before Jungkook tells you goodnight. He stalls for a second, running his teeth over his lips like he does when he’s thinking about something.

I love you.

“Goodnight,” you fill in the gap before hanging up.

“Listen,” Jungkook starts, and Mai can hear the immediate stiffening in his tone when he sits next to her, the double-size mattress allowing him the space now, “just because you’re sleeping over there doesn’t mean you stop doing your homework-”

Mai whines, her head falling back dramatically. Jungkook tells her to sit up, holding his hand around her neck when she lulls it to the side, “I am serious Mai, this is the third time I’m meeting your teacher about your schoolwork, enough is enough.”

Mai whips out of his grip, wiggling beneath her blanket and pulling it tight so he can’t get to her. Jungkook sighs, “You know we can talk about anything that might be upsetting you, right?” He looks down as she thins her lips, big eyes avoiding his stare.

“What’s gotten into you? Somethings’ gotta be going on, bean…” His worries expand, wondering if he’s missed a tell-tale sign because he’s been so distracted trying to keep his relationship with you intact. The doubt he has about being a good enough partner for you is taken by his doubt as a father. A doubt he hasn’t felt since Mai was born, even now, it runs deeper.

“Nothing,” Mai mutters, hugging one of her stuffed animals against her chest, “I wanna sleep, Dad.”

Jungkook nods, blinking slowly, “I love you…”

Mai turns away from him, pressing her head into the pillow, “love you.”

For a few minutes you enjoy watching Mai eat her snack, missing the way she can’t normally sit still and talking with a mouthful. She still smiles when she finds you looking, but there's a lack in her eyes that has you wondering the same questions her dad does.

Her eyebrows raised as she tosses a baby carrot in her mouth, “Are you and Dad gonna break up?”

Your eyes widen, “I see subtlety is not your strong suit, smarty pants…how do you come to these conclusions?”

She rolls her eyes telling you she has no idea what that means before bringing her point home, “you and dad were yelling after the dance and dad never yells unless I’m in real big trouble,” she emphasizes with her eyes, “or when Bam used to poop in the house except dad scared-yelled then, not angry-yelled. I think Bammie is his favorite now-”

“Mai,” you laugh, “really?”

Mai pokes out her bottom lip, tipping her shoulder up in a very matter-of-fact way.

A smirk leans across your lips, “Need I remind you, you are seven-”

Mai holds her hand up after taking a big bite of the sandwich you made for her, a little bit of mayo left on the corner of her mouth, “almost eight!”

“Yes, but you’re still a kid who needs to mind her own business,” you say, reaching over to pinch her nose.

“Just saying,” she defends herself, “plus, you aren’t staying for sleepovers anymore either…”

You stay quiet, pressing your cup of chilled tea against your lips.

“You probably wouldn’t want to anyways, the new house is sad,” Mai sighs, “everyone is just sad.”

A pang of guilt runs through you, “that everyone include you too?”

She leans her cheek against her hand, “even daddy and me are fighting…kinda’.”

You click your tongue, leaning across the counter to be closer to her, “Your grandma has been filling me in - what’s that about?”

She shrugs, mumbling, ‘I don’t know.’

You take in her mostly expressionless face, but her eyes tell an entirely different story of the one she isn’t saying.

“Hey, cutie,” you tap her chin, causing her to look up, “you know I’m here, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” she surprises you with a quick response, “you promised me.”

You comb your fingers back through her hair, “and look, just because your dad and I are dealing with adult things,” you arch an eyebrow to make your point, “doesn’t mean he’s upset with you about it- so maybe go easy on him, hm? He’s just worried about you.”

“If I have to do that, why don’t you do it too for daddy?” Mai retorts. Her eyes shoot open when she realizes what she’s just said, retreating into herself; “sorry.”

You brush the comment away, clearing your throat.

“All he does anymore is ask about my dumb grades,” Mai starts again, pouting this time, “or if I was good in class and nice to the other kids.”

A sympathetic smile widens your grin, “Well, your track record hasn’t exactly been spotless lately…”

“I’m trying still,” Mai reasons, “daddy doesn’t see it, nobody sees it, but hello? I’m still a kid, I can’t do everything!”

You spat, dropping your head because somehow, Mai always finds a way to let her spunk shine.

“Well,” you come around the breakfast nook and stand next to her, “let’s keep trying and do some of that make-up work you have, or else we will both be in trouble.” Mai hops off the bar stool and takes your hand, the two of you walking into your living room.

Jungkook returns from his brief trip with a little bit of hope, having seen how much Mai perked up with you through short videos she sent from your phone or selfies of the two of you posted on your social media.

When he called to check in on the night he arrived at his hotel, there was a moment he thought you would talk. A shift in your breathing had him preparing the words swimming in his mind, wanting more than anything for you to know he is still in this. But somewhere his courage to talk about it was lost, he couldn’t be sure if it was you or him that redirected that conversation before you said goodnight. You both knew a conversation needed to happen. Jungkook makes an effort in a roundabout way by asking you out for dinner a few times. But swamped with two deadlines, working from home conveniently keeps you busier than before.

It’s both surprising and unsurprising when Nic tells you she’s staying out of it.

“You don’t listen to me anyway,” she said in a recent phone call, “because for some reason you like to torture yourself and you’re going to hate me for this, but- you like to torture him too, with silence. I’ve known you two long enough to know your patterns and- wait no-nope, nope nope- I said I was staying out of it, so I’m zipping it…”

You couldn’t deny it.

“I’m pulling up to the school now,” Jungkook tells you over the phone, a sigh dripping from his lips when he puts the car in park, waiting in a line of cars with the other parents, “you’re heading over now?”

“Mhm,” you answer, “just realized I don’t have a key to the new house though-”

He looks down at the extra key he had made for you when the house was officially signed over to him months ago, keeping it on his keyring because he initially planned to ask you to move in before that plan was - postponed? He blinks, coming out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry, it’s been uh-”

“I know,” you breathe. The sound of it eases over Jungkook; “I bought some groceries to make dinner for all of us,” Jungkook can hear you nervously chewing on your lip between sentences, “then I thought maybe-um- we could have some alone time after Mai goes to bed, to talk…”

His lips stretch upward with relief, “Yes, please.” His eyes find Mai who is walking out of the building with her friend. Her friend whispering something close to her ear; innocent little secrets, Jungkook thinks to himself.

He hears you gulp, “Maybe I should save this for later, but I’m sorry and I love you-” Jungkook can feel his heart fluttering, eyes still watching Mai, when the next sight of her has his heart plummeting into his stomach.

Did she just smack her friend?

A few teachers nearby see it, rushing over to the two girls when Mai raises her hand to repeat her previous action.

“What- Mai!” Jungkook stretches his head out toward the open passenger window, the streak of panic in his voice has you almost dropping your phone; “what’s wrong?” You ask in a frenzy.

“I need to call you back.” Jungkook hangs up before you can answer. He rips his seatbelt off and hurries off to the curb in a few brisk steps, grabbing Mai’s arm to pull her away from her friend. The little girl is crying, holding her hand against her head where Mai slapped her.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook scolds Mai when she starts to cry, pushing against his leg in an attempt to set herself free from his strong grip.

“Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Choi, who was standing near the entrance, called him in a shaking tone, “let’s go to my office, now please?”

Mai’s friend and mother are ushered off to the nurse's room for an ice pack while Jungkook and Mai pile into the principal’s office along with the teachers who witnessed it.

He can’t deny that he just watched his daughter hit her friend, nor does he try, his skin hot with frustration as Mai tries to excuse her way out of it. Her words are jumbled by her erratic crying.

“I’m going to go talk to them in a separate room,” Ms. Choi says, still a little shaken, “give her a chance to calm down while I get their side of the story.”

“Daddy,” Mai cries to Jungkook when the principal leaves the room.

He turns his head, eyebrows straight on his face, “I don’t want to hear it right now-”

“But-”

“When we get home, Mai,” he raises his voice enough to quiet her.

After a lengthy discussion, with little to no explanation given by Mai once prompted, the principal decides she has no choice but to suspend Mai from school for the remaining weeks left until summer vacation. She informs Jungkook that Mai only has make-up work she needs to complete in order to move onto the next grade.

“I hope you understand why we need to do this, Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Choi says in a softer tone, a certain telling on her face before she continues, “I know single-parenting is not easy,” she lets out a heavy sigh, “my-my husband passed away a few years ago.” Jungkook can feel himself crawling beneath her pity, “but we will not tolerate physical violence. We’ve had Mai with us for seven years, and we’d love to have her back for the new school year, but only if these issues are handled accordingly.”

He doesn’t say anything more than agreement and an apology following Mai’s bitter one. His hand fits around Mai’s elbow as they walk back out to their car. She struggles beneath his tight grip, proving unsuccessful when he opens the door for her to get into the back; “you’re being mean!” She yells. Jungkook takes a deep breath, tossing her bag into the back, using all his control not to slam the door shut.

The drive is silent besides Mai’s whimpers, short words uttered that Jungkook is too angry to hear himself. Too confused. The only settling he feels is when you get out of your car as they pull up, a lost expression on your face when the two of you make eye contact.

“Hey bean-” you’re cut off when Mai brushes past you, her tears and anger very evident. You look up at Jungkook when he retrieves her things, his head shaking. You rub his back as the two of you walk up to the door, letting Mai in, who is ready to run to her room.

“Stop,” Jungkook’s voice booms through the once quiet home. Bam, who was eager to welcome all of you, retreats to his bed; “Come back here, Mai.”

Mai turns back at the sound of her dad’s tone, eyes flitting past you, and you can see the embarrassment. You know he wouldn’t talk to her like this if it wasn’t serious, but your heart aches at the way her cheeks start to turn red; “I’ll uh- I’ll start dinner,” you look down at Mai whose arms are crossed, tears still running down her face, “maybe you should take her in your room, Kook-”

“Daddy won’t listen,” Mai surprises you both, her small voice rising in volume, “I don’t wanna talk!”

With wide eyes, you meet Jungkook’s less than pleased ones, though you know he is stirring beneath shock as well; “Mai, you don’t raise your voice at-”

“You don’t hear me, nobody hears me!” She screams at him, hands fisted so tight as she runs off to her room.

Jungkook starts to follow her when you squeeze his arm, eyes begging him to stay. The strain in his face has you feeling for both of them, “give her a minute.”

Jungkook curses, parts of him healed when he feels you rub his arm, “I have a showing, I can’t cancel again-”

You pat his shoulder, “Go, I’ll um-I’ll do what I can here after she cools off.”

Jungkook thanks you with a silent stare, stepping forward to kiss you when he stops himself. For a moment, he’d forgotten about the unsettled ground the two of you are standing on. You grab his hand and rub his palm, “Go, babe.” He kisses the palm of your hand before he rushes out the door.

You busy yourself with dinner, chopping up vegetables, starting the rice, and preparing the meat, while you’ve given yourself enough of a pep talk before journeying towards Mai’s room.

“Bean,” your tone is careful but direct, knocking a couple of times before inching the door open, “it’s just me.” You poke your head in, eyes immediately falling on the bed where Mai is face-planted into the pillow. You have to bite back a smile, moving over carefully.

You stroke her back once before sitting next to her. For a minute, you think she might be sleeping when you hear her sniffle, her small body jolting, which tells you she is starting to cry again. You can’t help but feel a pang in your chest, knowing there needs to be some sort of discipline. But whatever occurred, the sheer pain it’s causing Mai becomes most evident to you.

“You gotta’ come up for air at some point,” you giggle, tears casting over your eyes, “come on, little one.” For that moment, Mai is the tiny baby you need to save.

You continue to run your hand up and down her back, moving her hair out of the way. Mai refuses to sit up for the first few minutes, but when she finally does, her reddened face struggles to find you.

You wipe her tears away and brush her hair back before leaving for a few minutes. Mai’s cries are quieted when you return with a dampened face towel.

You press the warm towel around Mai’s face and to the back of her neck, repeating those motions while the strain begins to seep out of her slowly; “my mom used to do this whenever I was upset-” you tell her.

Mai finally looks into your eyes, her long eyelashes are wet and clumped together. But you can see a slight shift when you smile at her, “always made me feel better.”

You can see the questions in her mind, maybe wondering how well you’ll listen to her.

“Feel like telling me what happened?” You settle into her bed, sitting back against the headboard. Mai stays stiff for a few seconds, eyes wandering back toward you until she’s scooting back herself. Her arm rests next to yours, fingers playing with the fringe around her pillowcase.

Hearing about Mai getting physical and slapping her friend makes your insides jump. You watch her explain what Jungkook must have seen, trying to keep your mind focused on her voice rather than the questions permeating there. It’s only when Mai starts to cry, looking up at you, do you realize something more is creeping beneath her unexplained anger.

So you wait, taking Mai’s hand in yours while she cries, her head finding a place against your shoulder. You know even more how confused her dad must be, and when she starts to talk again, you know nothing could prepare him for this.

“There was a n-new girl in my math class,” Mai is disrupted by a heavy cry, swallowing back as much as she can before she continues, “my friend told her I don’t have a mom-”

The wind is knocked out of you, you shut your eyes, hand accidentally tightens around Mai’s.

“And they all started to make f-fun of me-me,” Mai hiccups.

Your heart shatters when Mai tells you the bullying began months ago, when school started. Thoughtless words meant to hurt her, taunted by a group of kids who were eventually joined by Mai’s friend. You press your lips together, holding back cries of anger and sadness, every emotion becoming a deluge inside of you, just waiting to break free.

But you continue to wait, only stopping Mai to remind her that she can still breathe.

“I called that girl that mean name because during reading time-” Mai finds you again as if to make sure you are still listening and you nod, wiping her tears though they continue to fall, “because she-she would say mean things about me not having a mom li-like they do.” Mai’s face falls against your arm; you wrap your hand behind her head.

“I thought that if-I thought if you came to the dance with me, they would stop because you’re kinda’ like my mom,” her staccato cries jump against your arm where her mouth is pressed.

You turn to face Mai, holding her wet face between your hands, “It didn’t stop,” she cries, “they just got meaner.”

“Mai,” you’re at a loss for words, breath thinning as you pull her into your lap. Her cries deepen when she feels you cradle her in your arms, pressing her face against your chest.

All you can do is let her cry, her tears staining your skin and wetting the collar of your t-shirt, “it’s not my fault-it’s not.”

“No, it’s not bean,” you can’t stop the tsunami from flooding out of her, pressing kisses onto the top of Mai’s head while repeating that truth.

No. No. No. This is not your fault.

Bam finds his way in at the sound of Mai’s sorrow. You hold her as closely as you can, her uneven breaths casting over your neck as she continues to cry there. At some point, her tears become lost with yours as you think about the year she must have endured.

Quietly. Silently.

It all adds up.

“I love you, Mai,” you say in a trembling breath, “I am so sorry you’ve been hurting.”

Pain finds form in various ways, like the way your eyes strain from crying. It moves you to look down at Mai who has cried every tear she can, her eyes pressed closed and swollen now. Your hand has become numb from where it’s stayed around her back, the other brushing through her hair. Nothing else existed in those moments while you held her. The evening of her breath, the tears that eventually stopped, the way her small hand rested underneath her cheek, that’s all that mattered.

Her whimpering slows into short hums as you rock back and forth, the slow movement allowing her to feel the first peace she’s felt in a while. Her long body barely fits in your lap like it used to, but neither of you cares. A few times she looks up at you, before she reaches up to wipe the stray tears you shed yourself.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she squeaks, voice hoarse.

You smile despite it all, “You are worth every tear, bean.” A memory of Mai as a baby, held in your arms, rushes you. She notices the way your eyes water again, causing her to smile this time.

Four teeth missing, you think to yourself.

“We’re babies,” she jokes, hiccuping from the last few cries that still sit in her chest. You lean down and nuzzle your nose against her forehead.

“Hey-” Jungkook’s voice appears, neither of you hearing the front door when he walked in. His eyes lift when Mai looks at him, the obvious face of his crying child clear to him. He then moves over your face as you wipe it dry, noting to himself the way you are holding Mai, much like you did all those years ago when she was a baby and Jungkook asked you to be at his old apartment with them.

“Daddy-” Mai sounds breathless for a moment, rushing out of your arms and into his. He doesn’t hesitate to lift her into his embrace. He questions you when she holds him around his neck, the sound of gentle sniffling starting up in his ear.

“Mai needs to talk to you,” you breathe, and Jungkook can hear the unevenness in your tone. So he walks back to the bed, sitting Mai in his lap when he sits next to you.

Mai looks at you, waiting for that nod of reassurance. Your hand searches for Jungkook’s, wrapping your fingers around his when Mai starts to tell the same story to him.

The sun has fallen, and crickets chirp from their places in the backyard. A smile finds its way on your face, thinking about the security you felt wrapped around you when Jungkook hugged both you and Mai. Once he learned about the bullying, all he could do was hold onto his daughter, bringing you with them. Mai cried with him while you braved your tears away for the time being.

His hand brushes your shoulder when he comes out, slotting himself between your legs this time, his back against your chest. You ease his head back until it rests against your shoulder, combing his hair back with your fingers.

You can see the tears still there and the way he tries to blink them away, eyes searching the black sky painted above you; “I can’t believe I didn’t know this was going on.” Jungkook’s breath is unsteady. It stays quiet for a beat before he sits up, moving to sit next to you, his body leaning forward.

You watch this pillar of a man, the love of your life, crumble. Eyes blinking rapidly to phase the tears away, you touch his back with a cautious hand. His eyes are wet when he looks at you. “I’m trying,” he laughs desperately, “I’m trying my best here because I love my kid.”

“Jungkook, you have been an excellent father. Nobody is expecting perfection, especially Mai. All she wants is your love, and you’ve never been short of giving that to her…” The crease in your brow deepens. “There’s a lot to figure out, and we’ll start by going to the school tomorrow.”

“I called Ms. Choi after Mai fell asleep - gave her a brief explanation,” Jungkook says, “we’re going to meet tomorrow with those kids and their parents.”

“Good,” you brush your thumb over his ear, “I can-I can go, if you want me-”

He’s already nodding before you can finish, “We need you there.” Your heart squeezes at the despair in his voice.

You see it in his eyes that he’s not just talking about Mai. You feel your throat constrict when he doesn’t turn away from you, sitting upright; “god, I’m trying here too - to understand you. Trying to figure out what works best for us because I don’t want this to end. I am committed to you…” All of this rolls out of him.

You bite your lip when it starts to tremble.

“I know why you stopped talking to me all those times back then, when you caught me,” he shakes his head, “I hate thinking about it, knowing now how you felt about me, I get it.” He looks at you, fingers finding yours; “it still hurt though, not having you to talk to or to be around even if it was just for a few days we didn’t talk- I always knew something was wrong.”

The determination to hold your gaze sits bright on Jungkook’s face, traces of guilt in your fingertips that rub across the tattoos on his hand; “I never imagined marriage in my future- and maybe it’s not fair for me to be afraid but,” he lets out a disheartened laugh, wiping his face, “how do I marry someone that runs away before we can face the problem, someone who looks, I don’t know, horrified, whenever I touch her?”

Your eyes fall into your lap, tears dripping much like Mai’s did. Jungkook turns until his knee hits yours, his hand moving to rest on the side of your thigh. It’s love that you feel when he starts smoothing his palm there.

“That night, after I stopped you in your bedroom,” you sniffle, following courage to lift your head and look him in the eye, “I st-started to see all of these women just there every time you kissed me or touched me. They taunted me, made me feel incompetent…” you laugh, tears falling one after the other.

Jungkook loves you with his eyes, waiting on bated breath while you string together every word you can; “Jungkook I want to take the next step but, I have a lot of fears when it comes to that with you and I started to believe there was no other way to commit but get married, an-and I want that too but-” he never takes his eyes off of you as you continue to work through your words, “I’m afraid, I’m afraid that I won’t add up to whatever you are expecting from me.”

He leans in closer and wraps his hands around your neck, moving them across your skin so you can feel him, him - Jungkook- the man you love, “you…that’s all I expect is you, you are all I want.”

Your face falls, and as a wave of relief crashes over you, you realize the thing you feared most held the answer you’ve so desperately needed.

“I respect you,” he continues, dropping his hands to rest on top of your legs, “I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for… I also just love you,” he sniffles a brief laugh, “I want to show you that.”

You move your hand behind his neck, tenderly rubbing his skin, “I-I want to too-I really do. I just-” you sigh, carefully piecing together all you’ve observed about this man over the years, “you don’t have to always be physical with me to show me you love me. Y-your love for me goes beyond how you can make my body feel, Jungkook.”

It’s then he realizes the crutch he’s used for so many years before dating you.

If nobody was willing to accept his love, at least they would accept his body.

But here, sitting with you, having you next to him? For the first time, Jungkook takes a deep breath and lets it all go. You love him for the man he is inside, as torn as he may be in parts, you accept him despite your own fears.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand down his arm until it lands safely inside of his. He takes your fingers and threads them through his. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry too, baby,” his eyes dart up to yours. A tender laugh falls out of you, stomach doing flips as you pull your boyfriend in for a hug. He feels safe wrapped up in your arms, and you revel in the way he leans his weight against you.

“It is us, Kook,” you chuckle into his hair, “if we figured out as friends how to raise a whole kid, we can figure out what loving each other looks like.”

Jungkook sits up, a smile now stretched across his face. For a moment, the sunlight catches that small ring on his lip, causing you to giggle. He puts his hands around your face this time, “and I do love you, I’ll spend forever showing you that.”

Desperate to feel him, you lean forward until his lips catch yours.

“Me too.” You whisper.

With more clarity, life doesn’t stop the three of you from moving with the whirlwind of constant motion. Mai’s summer vacation starts on hopeful ground, but the matter between those kids and Mai is brought to an abrupt end when Mai’s friend confesses to everything. Within that first week of the summer month, the other kids follow until the situation is brought to full light. Mai was still reprimanded for hitting her friend, and with tutoring sessions once a week, Jungkook’s daughter was already blossoming into the wonderful little girl you both have raised.

He marveled at her when she expressed one day that she wanted to move on and start at a different school. “I’m not mad at my friend anymore, but I wanna make real friends,” Mai said, popping her head up from the coloring book in front of her while you and Jungkook cuddled underneath a blanket, watching a show you had quickly become addicted to. You rested your cheek against Jungkook’s chest, rubbing his stomach when you felt him sigh. A wide smile spread across his cheeks.

You settled for the kind of awkwardness that fell over the kitchen one night when Mai let ‘mom’ slip out when talking about you, soon after she was seeking a hiding place behind her dad, who stood still as stone. After coaxing Mai into your safe hold, the two of you determined that the endearment was to be determined. Mai settled the matter entirely with a reassuring hug that flooded your body with more love than you knew what to do with.

The three of you celebrated with a weekend getaway at the beach after your home business reached its first milestone. You and Jungkook chasing Mai and Bam, who officially graduated from puppy training school, around the sand. Bam barked after Mai whenever she swam too far from him as he watched her from the shore with you next to him, wanting his little, loyal companion to be by his side at all times.

In the last month of Mai’s summer vacation, you often found yourself observing the little girl in silence. Wondering what on earth life would’ve been like if she had never come to be. It didn’t matter how; it just mattered that she was here, born to a father who was once so terrified but now he walked this tightrope with his daughter safe in his arms. And a dog to boot.

There were several nights of tears following her experience of being bullied, some nights when she muttered words of a lost identity she would never know because of her absent mother, something far too complex for a young girl to comprehend. You were there for all of them, sitting there with her and Jungkook and taking in every ache Mai had to share. You assured both of them you would continue to be there for the years to come. It wasn’t easy, and there were times Jungkook had no clue what to say. But where words failed, he mended her wounds with long hugs, cuddling her to sleep with you hugging Mai on the other side of her bed.

Once she was safe in her dreams, you and Jungkook made it a point to be together. Learning the comforts of intimacy in other ways drew you closer to Jungkook. Talking about fears when they came up. Working to understand why one was feeling a certain way. Feeling your heart grow in size, the images of his past began to fade away until they no longer existed. Kissing Jungkook became yours again, being held by him - something only you knew with him.

Jungkook steeps in this feeling, as secure as he’d felt with you as his friend, he was starting to understand it while falling for you, it was growing stronger with each day. Watching you fight away those demons, not allowing them to hurt you anymore, he was realizing how prized he was in your eyes. You loved him in a way he never thought he deserved. And as much as he was eager to get to a place where he could share himself with you, he was learning this kind of love needed respect to feel how true it was.

It was still rocky, but there was a clear path forming, and the two of you made sure to remind each other when needed, that it would always be you and him.

Living this life begins to settle into place, it nestles into a part of you that leaves you sure about the decision you’d been mulling over since it was brought up.

“Really?” Jungkook’s face mirrored the childlike glee you saw so often in his daughter, excitement so simple. It made your insides burst when Jungkook lifted you into a hug, “You really want to move in?”

You just nod, lips bunched into the brightest smile that Jungkook knew he would remember forever.

You can’t help but recall that night as you fill your side of the closet Jungkook made for you, unpacking boxes one at a time. Your eyes widen for a moment when you look around you, feeling slightly suffocated by what was left. Jungkook was helping you before he had to start dinner for his parents who would be coming over.

“Baby?” He calls from the hallway.

“Yeah?” You shout, putting a blouse onto a hanger when you hear him enter the closet.

“You forgot a box-“ he says.

“Huh,” you arch an eyebrow, looking at all of your boxes, “no?“

You turn around to look at Jungkook, who’s standing straight like a pin, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. Mai comes in giggling, leaning herself against Jungkook’s legs and hugging him there.

You laugh, “I’ve got them all here…“ Your breath stills in your throat, forcing you to stop when your eyes drop to the small box in his hand.

The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, everything begins to move slowly, “Kook- wh-what is that, what are you do-“

Jungkook lowers to one knee and opens the box to reveal a ring, breath shaking out of him when he starts to speak, “I love you,” a nervous giggle interrupts him, “baby, it’s you and me, it’s always going to be us - will you marry me?”

Mai can’t stop her giggles while yours hiccup out of you, nerves tingling in your fingers, causing you to drop the blouse in your hands, “are you serious?”

All he can do is nod, swallowed by his own nerves, while Mai can’t contain herself.

“Yes- what? Yes, Jungkook,” you start to cry, emotions pulled between disbelief and sheer ecstasy. Mai’s excitement explodes, jumping around the two of you when Jungkook stands and swallows you in a hug. She wraps her arms around your bodies, cheering into her dad’s side.

An unexplained peace rushes you when you pull Jungkook back to look at him. All you can see for that moment in time is the man you love, you see his tears and feel his arms around you. He mouths an ‘I love you,’ that has you doing the same, Mai’s joyous noises pressed into both of you while you share your quiet moment.

You and Jungkook breathe small laughs while setting the dining table when Mai answers the door for her grandparents, shouting, “She said yes she said yes!” Before greeting them properly. Jungkook’s arm wraps around your hip when he goes to kiss the side of your head, “think she’s more excited than us,” he teases.

After dinner, the five of you end the evening out in the backyard, your hand feeling sore from the way Mrs. Jeon and Mai take turns to gawk at your ring.

“Excited to start at your new school soon, bug?” Mr. Jeon gleamed at his granddaughter who sat on his lap. Mai jostles her head with an eager nod, “One more week!” She announces.

Jungkook rubs your shoulder, the three of you laughing. You nestle into his side, enjoying this feeling.

The night grows quieter with ease. Feeling Jungkook’s eyes on you has you nearly forgetting that his family is there too while they coddle Mai.

There is a shift inside of you when you look back at him. All of these months since having that conversation, focusing on Mai’s healing while figuring out the reigns to your relationship together, every measure of his commitment you’ve felt, it overwhelms you. It sits brighter than the ring on your finger, though catching glimpses of it still makes your heart stutter.

This feeling blooms inside of you, it brushes your skin in a tickling rush, causing you to sink further into Jungkook’s embrace.

“I love you,” you whisper to him.

He senses it, uncaring for those next few seconds as he kisses you. With a passing glance from Mrs. Jeon, she just smiles to herself, distracting Mai further.

What’s desired is expressed through fluttering blinks, left to wondering minds between you and Jungkook as you share the rest of the evening with his family. Subtle hints are given through passing touches or the way your fingers sneak beneath the collar of his t-shirt to touch the space below his neck.

“I’m really happy,” Mai tells you once in bed for the night, her small hands mushing your cheeks together.

“You make me happy, bean,” you snort into her skin, causing her to yelp.

“Night, my baby,” Jungkook bends down to kiss her, “sleep tight.”

“I won’t let the bedbugs bite,” Mai repeats their ever-famous tag line before whispering final good nights.

There’s only a breath of space between you and your true love when you shut the door to Mai’s bedroom.

“Hey.” You breathe, eyes drunk with love, and you can see his pupils dilate at the mere sound of your voice.

You chuckle, shaking your head because this man has you wrapped up in safety and love. It takes your breath away and all you want in that moment is to have him feel the same.

Every motion you and Jungkook make is done with utmost consideration for each other. Nerves bind with excitement. Sighs mingled with giggles. When he feels you move in haste, he reminds you there’s time. Allowing yourself to become lost in vulnerability beneath the captor of your heart. Your willing heart becomes exposed because you want more than anything to show every part of it to Jungkook.

He handles you carefully, both with his hands and in heart. Because he knows that most fragile part of you now sits inside his palms. A few times his breath stops when he peers down at you, your hair splayed over the pillows, sparkling eyes beaming up at him. He starts to feel what’s left of those insecurities wash away until they cease to exist.

All he can feel with each tender brush of skin and lasting kiss is pure and absolute love.

A sweet smile spreads across your face when a sleeping Jungkook falls into your sight, his mouth slightly agape. You move your hand up and push your fingers through his growing hair, rolling your eyes because who knows how your man’s hair will look next week.

You always wondered what this would be like. Being the first to wake up, still a little too early in the morning, but the first thing you’re drawn to is the person lying next to you, lightly snoring. How drunk you would feel off the sheer love shared with this person, but of course, the person in mind was always your best friend. Back then, it was a mere fantasy, one you were certain would never see the light of day but would stay buried only in the deepest part of your mind.

Now, nerves tingle through your body and you can feel the sheet laid over your bodies. It feels exciting and still, a little terrifying.

Jungkook begins to stir beneath your touch, groaning. You come to, only to be reduced to a puddle when he wraps his hand around your forearm to pull you close to him. His skin is warm from the mattress, and perhaps lasting traces are carried over from last night.

“So early,” he mutters, kissing your hand that is held in his.

You peer over at the clock on his side of the bed, haze immediately broken when you note the time, knowing Mai will be up soon. The first place she travels to is her dad’s room - your room- for a morning cuddle with the two of you. You hope she never grows out of it, and for a second, your heart aches at the thought of her turning 8 soon.

But today it’s different, and you’re horrified suddenly by the thought of your bare bodies shielded only by a thin sheet. Jungkook opens one eye when he feels you move the sheet off of you, ready to swing your legs off the bed when he stops you, gently holding you by the wrist and bringing you back to the warmth of his chest, “Where are you going?” He whines, his morning voice sits close to your ear.

You push him away despite every part of you craving to stay glued to the love of your life; “Kook, I should get up before Mai comes in here-“ you peel your wrist away from his strong but mindful grip, eliciting a more serious tone from him.

“Hey-“ he proves to be the stronger one, his careful approach bringing you back to him, looking at you with soft, tired eyes. He pulls your chin between his fingers, mouth hovering over yours- that smile, those eyes, he’s irresistible when you hear him whisper, “kiss me.”

And so you do, a few times before he finally looks at you again; “just relax-” his appeal is slow, conscious of you, “stay in bed.“

The part of you that’s scared wants to keep fighting it but the way he’s looking at you speaks volumes to the part that feels safe there. Now, a year ago, when Jungkook was telling you he was in love with you too, and learning what all of that meant in the time following, the sheer terror of intimacy with Jungkook. It ceased to exist right here. You wondered if you would ever make it here, the morning following a night like last night.

Would you wake up steeped in deep regret, despite sharing it with the person you’ve loved for far too long? Or would it be pure ecstasy, a heated blush still rushing through your body as you recall every action.

Jungkook is still holding you close, a glazed look in his eye as he keeps you inside the haven he’s created in his hands, just for you.

You can’t help but smile, knowing you were feeling the latter.

“Baby?” You finally speak, and it surprises him, making him jump. You laugh, cooing over him before apologizing with a kiss to his chest.

“Mhm?” He chuckles, fingers combing through your hair.

“This was perfect,” you draw small circles over his pec, noting the goosebumps that form over his skin from your languorous touch, “you’re perfect for me.”

He stops breathing for a second, and in the next your world is spinning when he moves you to lie on your back as he hovers over you. Your eyes are wide, which makes him giggle, his eyes falling with the sweetest expression on his face. You know he’s feeling blissful.

“You think so?” He queries with a smirk.

You simply nod, reaching up to caress the side of his neck and cheek.

All he can do is respond with a kiss- maybe three. By the time he’s done, you’re left in a giggling heap beneath him, begging him to stop his teasing touches as he runs his fingers up and down your sides.

A light knock at the bedroom door sends him flying off you and nearly off the bed.

Mai’s soft voice follows behind it, “Daddy?”

You rip the sheet away from Jungkook and drape it around yourself, leaving him with nothing but a belly laugh as he watches your panic; “I told you!” You scold him between clenched teeth. He can’t help but find your modesty endearing, watching you run to the bathroom while he finds clothes to put on.

“Morning, bean,” he greets his little girl at the door, picking her up and holding her in his arms for a moment. He loves how she smells in the morning, the scent of her shampoo from last night’s bath still in her hair, how she yawns into his shoulder before croaking a good morning back to him.

She asks for you, and he smiles, “showering,” he answers.

Mai gasps and sits up in her dad’s arms, mouth round as she says, “Let’s surprise her and make her waffles!”

Jungkook kisses Mai’s forehead, beside himself, before agreeing.

So, there are still things you have to get used to. You laugh at yourself while in the shower, lathering shampoo into your hair. A part of you doesn’t want to wash away what Jungkook impressed upon your skin. The way he muttered words of love against your stomach, or how his warm breath tickled your bare shoulder with his future vows to you.

His voice replays in your ear where he kissed you, “you and me.”

#jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #dad!jungkook #bts x reader #bts fluff #i can't wait...series by serendipitous seven

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months ago

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Hola dulce!! Me encanta lo que escribes, por eso pensé en enviarte este video donde las chicas latinas responden “you too, papi” a sus novios/esposos.

Me detuve a pensar cómo reaccionarían los chicos de COD.

Disculpa el español!! Gracias por leer, espero no molestarte. 🩷

Hola chica! I know you sent this in a while back (and I'm so sorry for the wait). I did play around with the prompt a little bit, expanded it slightly beyond just boyfriend/husband, and kept the "you too, papi" both literally and in spirit. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Latina!Fem!Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, flirting, banter, brief alcohol use, suggestive themes, pregnancy mention, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John smooths the front of his suit jacket. It’s a formal occasion, and it’s clear that he’s completely uncomfortable. This isn’t his sort of scene.

You turn your body toward him, replacing his hands with yours, smoothing out the wrinkles and adjusting the lapels. John sighs, his brow softening as his gaze focuses on you. Your wedding ring sparkles under the light, shimmering with each movement.

“You look dashing,” you murmur.

John chuckles, and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Behave yourself tonight.”

“I always behave,” you say with as much innocence as you can muster.

This time, John cracks a genuine smile.

“I mean it,” he whispers. “Be good.”

“I will,” you insist. “And you be good too, papi.”

John groans. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Call me papi. Not here. You know how it makes me.”

That’s you, always on your worst behavior.

“Whatever you say,” you murmur. Then, after a beat, “papi.”

“Bloody hell, woman,” he growls under his breath. “One more time and I’m finding the nearest broom closet.”

Just to be a tease, just to cause a little stir, you playfully push off from his chest. “Papi,” you mouth silently, winking.

John "Soap" MacTavish

A hazy smoke lingers overhead. The air is thick with humidity. Music blares from speakers.

Tonight is a night for celebration, of dancing and drinking and flirting, of going home with someone. But you’re parked behind the bar, serving shots and watching from afar.

Los Vaqueros.

They’re out tonight, celebrating. Those faces you recognize, but you don’t know who the quartet are sitting next to their leader, Alejandro Vargas. They’re a mystery.

Until one of them approaches.

“Have anything other than tequila?”

His accent is thick. British—no. Scottish. He’s cute. Has a charm about him.

“Course we do, papi,” you grin, leaning on the bar, and forcing your breasts a bit higher.

His eyes immediately fall there before quickly snapping up.

“Papi?” he repeats, and you laugh.

Instead of whiskey, you present this stranger a few other options. “Whisky? Vodka?”

He licks his lips. “Whiskey. Please.”

You wink, and pour him the whiskey. “On the house, papi.”

Those cheeks of his darken into a lovely shade of pink. As if catching himself, he coughs, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” He glances around. “Enjoy yourself.”

You raise your hand, and wiggle your fingers as he backs up. “You too, papi.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Leaving is always bittersweet.

Simon drops his packed duffle bag next to the front door. He’s dressed, ready to head to work to prepare for another mission. He hasn’t been briefed yet, and Price didn’t say much over the phone. He only said to come.

“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out to you.

You melt into his arms, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. Simon takes this moment to admire you, to remember your features, to lean in for a few gentle kisses.

“Love you,” he says.

“Love you,” you reply.

Simon grins, going in for one last kiss.

“Be good,” he chuckles. “No misbehaving.”

“You behave too, papi,” you croon, head titling in invitation.

Simon accepts, leaving you momentarily breathless.

“Say that again. I liked it.”

“What?” you ask innocently.

Shifting his arm downward, Simon grasps a portion of your upper thigh and the curve of your ass.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You lick your lips. “Papi.”

“Again,” he growls.

You do, and Simon hooks is arm at your waist, pressing you against the wall.

“One more.”

“Papi.”

Groaning, Simon looks at his watch, and shrugs. “Price won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“No. No.”

Kyle places a hand against the wall, leaning against it as he stares you down. You blatantly ignore him, remaining on the steep stool.

“You don’t need to do this,” he says.

“Dios mío!” You shake your head, the hammer poised to come down on the nail in the wall. “I told you to hang the picture!”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “I said I would do it.”

“That means now.”

“And here I am,” he replies. His tone is calm, but you hear the strain in it. You’re always testing his patience.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why?” you snap. “Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re pregnant,” he says, deadpan.

The two of you stare each other down. Kyle cocks his head and then nods at your rounded belly that touches the wall.

Without speaking, you descend and offer up the hammer. Kyle takes it.

“I love you,” he says. “But sometimes you make my heartrate spike.”

“Back at you, papi,” you mutter under your breath.

Though your back is to him, you hear the exasperated sigh. “Go have a snack.” Kyle brings the hammer down on the nail. “Or maybe a nap.”

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onlymexsarah · 5 months ago

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Burning Flames IV | Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!reader Summary: Since you became High Fae there were only two things that scared you: your deadly power and your attraction toward the male you should hate most after Tamlin, Eris Vanserra. Warnings: mention of smut, Eris Vanserra being Eris Vanserra, my english and probably spelling mistakes since I'm also sick A/n: I apologize for my lateness, but uni is kinda taking all my time away. I was dying with the need to write about this scene, and I hope you'll like it🫶🏻 if you want to be add at the taglist just ask! Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

"Eris is coming to the Winter Solstice celebration at the Hewn City." Rhys informed the Inner Circle while you were discussing alliances for the probable war against Briallyn. "He's shaken by Tamlin catching you two meeting with him," he nodded toward your twin and Cassian. "and wondering if we'll balk from the alliance now that there's the slim chance Tamlin might reveal it. Or decide to sell him out first. We need to remind Eris of our continued commitment, and that he is...important to us. That we have his back."

You heard Cassian snarling with disgust while your sister Feyre echoed the expression.

"So buy him a present," Feyre said, waving a hand. "and tell him we all send our love."

You snorted amused at that. "Don't you have some old, dusty jewels? Give him one of those." You said obvious while you rested your arm on the chair's back..

"He'll want more than that." Rhys said, mouth twiching, and his eyes fell upon Nesta.

Nesta. Rhys wanted to use Nesta to win Eris over. The thought alone made you sick. Why her? Why Rhys thought that Nesta alone could make Eris swung at her feet? He had saved your life, not hers. Actually, he would have let Nesta die if it hadn't been for you and Elain.

But of course, Rhysand couldn't know that. No one knew Eris had saved your life during the war, and strangely enough Eris had never bragged himself nor made any comment.

From what Cassian had said it had seemed that Eris had been interest in flirting with your twin, and you had to admit, he had never tried to flirt with you in any occasion. Actually, he had tried to break your patience. So it did make sense, you supposed. Nesta was the most logical choice.

"You want me to dance with Eris?" asked Nesta caution.

"I want you to seduce him." Rhys' words made your stomach twisting with an unease sensation. You didn't know why you were reacting like that, and you told yourself that it was because you didn't want Nesta close to someone like him. It wasn't because the thought of Eris giving his full attention to someone who wasn't you made you sick. No, you could never want something like that. Someone like him.

"You really think that Nesta's dancing with Eris will solidify his loyalty?" you hadn't meant to make the question sound so...disgusted, but thankfully no one seemed to notice. Actually, most of them echoed your tone.

"I think Eris is our ally, and will expect to dance with a lady of this court at the ball no matter what." Explained Rhys to you, probably mistaking your disgust for worryness. "I won't let Feyre within five feet of him, Mor might kill him, and Amren is more likely to scare him off than win him over, so you, Nesta and Elain are the only options, but from Cassian's report Eris hadn't seem too friendly with you."

Cassian should learn when to shut up, you thought annoyed. Of course Cassian would say that, because Eris had made sure to annoy you at the meeting with Lucien, Vassa and Jurian.

"Was Cassian wrong?" asked Rhys carefully, reading something in your eyes that you quickly hide.

"No." You said with a lazy smile. There was no point in telling them what had happened during the war, probably Eris had already forgotten it too. "He was completely right."

Rhys watched you for few more seconds with his violet eyes that sometime seemed like they could look right inside your soul and read it. You checked your mental shield and found it intact, the fire that you pushed down burned brightly around your mind, protecting it.

***

The black dress you had chosen for the night fell comfortably over your body as you walked down the hall of Hewn City's palace. You had opted for something elegant yet less reveling than Mor's and Feyre's. The straps fell lightly down your shoulders, the bodice had a sweetheart neckline with what looked like black flames over your collarbone. You still had to decide if it was a hint that Rhys knew about your power still lingering in your body, or it was for pure imagine. The flames seemed to fell down your body in a lovely silky gown that captured the lights with each step.

Unfortunately, you now had to wear gloves, because the burned scars had expanded all over your hands, and the gloves was the only way to hide them. Thankfully, since it was winter no one ever questioned them, and tonight you had put some long, black, silky gloves that matched your skirt.

You were currently behind Rhysand and Feyre, between Elain and Nesta as the two of them still were on no speaking term. Tonight was a show of power, with your sister's pregnancy annouce and your twin's beauty offered on a silver plate for the Heir of Autumn.

You had appreaciated how Elain had wanted to come, and it didn't go unnoticed to you that she had opted to wear a plain dress with just two pearls in her hair to not outshine Nesta. Elain had always been the prettiest of the four of you, but tonight it was Nesta's time to shine, and she had gladly disguided herself as plain and boring.

As you entered the throne room every eyes fell on you. Not on you, actually. On your sister's swollen belly. You heard gaspes and whispers all around you. Keir's looked torn between anger and shock, and you had to hide an amused grin.

As your eyes scanned the room with a bored expression, you took you ropportunity to look at the redhead beside Keir, knowing he would be too focus on your sister to notice your staring, but as your eyes fell on the him you found two amber pounds already staring at you.

Eris was looking at you. Not at Feyre. Not at Nesta, the one supposed to catch his attention. He was looking only at you, and you hated how your heart skipped a beat.

He looked at you like he could admire you for the first time, and somehow it was true. You both knew that no one would notice your staring at each other, because everyone's attention was on Feyre.

You used every second to drank the sigth of him. Eris was dressed in Night Court black, and you could be damned for how handsomely he was. He looked like the darkest of the dark dreams that someone shouldn't have. That someone be you.

That game was dangerous, you realized. Those stolen glances, stolen moments would lead you only in a dangerous territory. But danger looked so appealing when he let his eyes slowly roam all over your body.

For a moment you felt more naked than Mor and Feyre.

Eris must have noticed the black flames on your dress because he slowly grinned. It wasn's a mocking grin, it wasn't even amused. It was one of Eris' grin that you still had to classify.

His eyes met yours again, and he did the last thing you had expected. He winked at you. He fucking winked.

You felt your cheeks getting warmer and you quickly looked in front of you again, dismissing him as if nothing had happened, and for a moment you wished it hadn't.

As Feyre and Rhysand sat on their thrones, you and your sisters went to stand at the foot of the dais, between Cassian and Azriel who looked like they could kill anyone watching at any of you in a wrong way.

Keir and Eris scuttled forward, and while the former bowed, you pointly avoided to look at the latter. "Allow me to exted my congratulations." said Keir and you knew that he didn't mean a word of it.

"And allow me to extened mine as well," said Eris with a voice that could warm even the coldest spot of the Winter Court. "on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court. He shall be thrilled by this news."

Rhysand mouth curled in a cruel half smile, the stars winking iut in his eyes. "I'm sure he will."

Sometime you forgot how powerful and cruel Rhysand could be. He was always gentle and kind with you, with all his family. But the moment that something threated Feyre's life? He become feral, and you were glad for it. You were glad Feyre had found Rhysand.

They gave the crowd some command to make it loose, and when Eris did to follow Keir Rhysand stopped him. "Before you join the merriment, Eris, I'd like to present you with your Solstice gift."

A long black box appeared in his hands, and you tried your best to hide your confusion. Rhysand had never spoken of other gifts beside Nesta, so what was all of this about?

As the box flew to Eris and he opened it you could see the dagger that Nesta had made. You hold your breath as Eris's face went pale. "There's flame in it." He said. "Why give this to me?"

"You're our ally, " Feyre said, a hand resting on her belly. "You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It seemed only fair to give you a weapon that operates outside those rules, too."

You cursed in your mind as Eris understood that the dagger was Made and started to question Rhysand. Eris culd be the monster of everyone's story, but he was no idiot. Actually, you had the suspicious that he might be smarter than he let the other see.

“Ordinarily I would ask you to dance," said Feyre kindly. "but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.” It was the truth. Feyre had bolted from dinner three nights ago to find the nearest toilet. Now she looked at you and your sisters, as if deciding who would dance with him.

You looked away, not really wanting to see Eris admiring your sister Nesta. You focused your attention on the couples dancing, and you couldn't wait to be among them. You didn't have the same passion as Nesta, but you had always enjoyed it if you had a good partner.

You had asked Morrigan to give you lessons too, just to be able to dance freely with whoever might ask you. It had been fun when you had found Cassian too at Mor's lessons, silently agreeing that you would say nothing about the other.

"One of my oldest sisters shall take my place." you barely heard Feyre's words, knowing she would be gesturing to Nesta, so there would be no point to look away from the musicians.

It was when you heard Nesta stiffining beside you and Elain elbowing you that you looked away and gave the latter a confused look. Elain only inclined her head, pointing to something in front of you.

You furrowed your eyebrow, still confused, and looked where Elain was pointing. Your breath caught in your throat as you found Eris standing in front of you with his hand strechted out.

"If I require right, you are the oldest." He said with that lover's voice that tricked your mind.

You gulped and tried to not let your eyes widining too much as you gave him a nod. "Only by few days."

Why was he not looking at your sister? It was quiet obvious that she was the one planned to be offered to him, the one who looked like a queen. Hadn't Cassian said that Eris had been flirtatious with Nesta? Hadn't Cassian said that Eris seemed to loath you? Then why was he looking like that?

You slowly brought your hand on his, as you had done the day he had saved you, and something about his wicked, sparkling eyes told you he remembered it too.

He brought your hand around his arm, and accompanied you at the center of the dancing floor with a royaly grace. Even throught your gloves you could feel the warmness that his body radiated. A warmness that somehow made your body relax. Hadn't you had asked this to the cauldron? Warm, nice fire? Not the destructive flames that burned inside you.

Eris stopped at the very center of the floor, and you could already feel everyone's gaze on the two of you. What a gossip this would be; one of the High Lady's sisters with the heir of the Autumn Court, dancong at the Winter Solstice.

"Saying that you look gorgeous would be minimalizing." Said Eris as he gently put his free arm around your waist bringing your bodies much closer than they had ever been. "But flames are supposed to be red, not black."

You would have smashed his grin if the violin's hadn't started playing. You put your free hand on his shoulder and rose your chin to meet his eyes, with the fakest, sweetest smile you could master.

You had indeed wanted the dress to be red, because it had always been your favourite colour, but the Night Court's colour was black, and you needed to appear as a unit front.

"I wouldn't want to be mistaken for a member of your beautiful, appealing court." Your tone was soft, not wanting to gain any more stares than what you already had on you, but the sarcasm was there. "I find black perfect for this dress."

You were soo the wrong person to complete the job. Nesta was supposed to seduce him, because Eris didn't rail her up like he did with you. It was impossibile in your mind to even think of being nice with him, let alone flirt.

"What is not perfect is this dance, I'm afraid." he said still with his smirk on his lips. You looked at him confused, and he leaned close to your ear making you hold your breath. "Your High Lord and High Lady look like I have just spilled icy water on them. Aren't you supposed to be the oldest? They seem to think I might eat you in any moment."

His hot breath on your neck made it ashamedly hard to concentrate on what he was saying, and you would never admit to yourself that it was only when he leaned away that you found the capacity to speak again.

"We were all convinced you enjoyed my sister's company more than mine." You managed to say, offering him that truth.

The sound of his dark chuckle was like silk on your skin. His grip on your hadn and waist tightned a little, and you would have ripped his hands away if it would have been any other moment, or any other male.

"And why would I lose time playing with her when I have my perfect match right here?"

Cauldron boils you.

It was a bad, bad, bad, bad thing that you knees almost went weak at his words. It was even worst that your stomach seemed to be dancing its own waltz inside you. It had been so long since someone had touched you like that and hell, no one had ever looked at you like that. Ever.

You told yourself that that was the reason why he was having that effect in you. You had been used to the human's beauty, then you had been too busy to save the world to even notice High Fae's beauty. Eris had just happened to be in the right place at the right time and boom, you were weak on your knees for him.

"Someone might stirr if they heard you calling me your perfect match." You said finding a surprising calm, steady voice. "The future High Lord of the Autumn Court should have no equals."

Something flickered in his eyes as he looked at you with the typical gaze full of secrets. "I have no worries of any equal since you seem so determinated to conceal yourself as a rabbit rather than the dragon that you are."

His words managed to make you shut down every...confusing feeling you had inside and rose your chin a bit higher, watching him with a bored expression. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Is that so?" he slightly tilted his head with the same eyes that a predator used to study its opponent. "Then I take the gloves as the newest fashion in the Night Court? Curious, I don't see many other females wearing them."

He made you do a double spin on your feet before bringing you back against his chest. "I would have thought that a princeling had more important things to think about than the fashion in other Courts." You said coldly.

You hadn't realized that the music had ended until a new dance began and Eris easily led you throught that. It was slower, lighter, but you didn't need to think about the steps; Eris was annoyingly good at leading you.

His eyes darkened a little, as if you had just insulted him. The grip on your hand tightened and you hissed in pain as his fingers pushed into the burned flesh of your palm. "Tell me, it's still about fashion?" He tightened his fingers again and you stepped on his foot angrily.

"Do it again and your father will have to name another heir." you hissed still blinded with pain. Fuck off the whole court him thing; you would have never been good at it nevertless. If Eris wanted to play with you, you would play back.

***

Cauldron boils him.

He was so down bad for you. Never in five hundred years he had met someone who could turn him on just with a glare. And the glare you were giving him was of pure challenge and threat.

He laughed at you. He laughed because it was the only thing he could do. He laughed because the alternative was to see if you would still talk to him like that if he pushed you against a dark corner of the palace, knelt and buried his face under the gown of your dress.

That fucking dress.

You looked like a night Goddess of fire, and the Mother knew how happily he would worship you if given the chance.

But he couldn't. Not until his father was alive. Not until he would be free to let you know the true Eris and let you decide what to do about the bond. Not until you desired him as much as he desired you.

"I would like to see you try without any training." he lightly mocked you, needing to see how far he could push you until you finally gave in and unleashed what you had inside. "But I could make your odds better if you just admit what we both know, Little Flame."

He grinned as he sensed the effect that the name had on you. You face stayed neutral, it was your heartbeat that betrayed you. Eris had to admit it, even if you had just entered the game of scheming, courts and alliances you were doing a great job at it.

"I'm afraid I'm not following you." You said giving the room around you a bored look. He knew you were actually seeing if any of your court was listening to the two of you.

Eris had a vague idea of what would happen if you find out about the bond in the near future. You would be caution about it at first, then after few words with Mor and the Inner Circle you would decide to break it, and why wouldn't you? He was the villain in everyone's story, and he was fine with that. He didn't really plan to change that narrative in your head, yet. But he refused to sit still while you burned yourself in your own power and the Inner Circle did nothing to stop it.

"I could train you." He said suddenly serious. "If you are too ashamed to show your precious family what monstrous power you have, you should have no problem showing it to someone who is already considered a monster."

You arched an eyebrow. "Considered?" you asked ironically. "I recall hearing quiet thrutful stories about you for just considerating what you are."

He didn't pretend to be hurt by your words. He knew exactly what you had heard, what he had done, but obviously you couldn't know the whole true. No one did execpt for one. "Careful to let your new ears believe everything they say about me."

"Because you seem so much more trustfully." You said with a ironic smile that he immediately matched.

"Train with me a day every week, and I'll answer honestly to one question of your choice." He proposed before spunning you on your feet. "Maybe you'll make your own idea of me."

Those beautiful, careful eyes studied him, and he almost knelt right there. "Why would I accept? What do you gain from this?"

His grin widened. "I'm pleased to see that those brutes taught you something useful." He mused. "Let just say I think your power will play a key part to my...succesion on the throne, and I rather have you as my ally than my enemy."

You narrowed your eyes, surely pondering every single word he had said. "I won't do the dirty job for you."

Eris knew you meant killing his father, but of course you couldn't say it out loud since Keir was still around. He admired your quick thinking, and he was extremely glad that you were smart enought to guard yourself around people like himself.

He chuckled lowly. "That is a matter I'll deal with alone." He stated firmly and the fingers on your back lightly caressed you, assuringly. "I just ask for your help when my court will need it."

Eris would never admit out loud that he already know what kind of favour he would need from you. The idea had come up as the two of your were talking, but he knew that if he had proposed it right away you would have left him on the dancing floor without a second thought.

"One day of training everyweek with one question of my choice in exchange of my help, once, when you'll need it with your court?" You carefully stated looking cautionsly in his eyes.

He gave you a grin as he leaned his face closer to yours. "Do we have a bargain, Little Flame?"

He had to call all his hundreds years of training to not close his eyes as your scent hit his nose. It was sweet, like cinnamon and caramel. It was everything he recalled to like, to bring him joy.

He smelled the shift in your scent as your faces were dangerously close, and for the first time he was glad that you were new to this world because otherwise your would have smelled the shift in his scent too. And that, would have bring the two of you in a dangerous situation.

"Yes." you said after a while. He could see that you had thought of every outcome of that bargain, you probably had thought about how to tell the others, what reactions they would have and in how many ways it could end badly. "But you have to stop calling me that."

He laughed. "You should have put it into the conditions of the bargain before you accepted it."

As he said those words he felt something stung on his back. It felt like someone was writing something on his skin with fire. It didn't hurt, it was more like a tickle, and when he saw your hand flying from his shoulder to your back, scracthing the same part on your body that tickled on his, he knew that the bargain had been sealed.

The music ended and he gave you a bow, bringing your gloved hand to his lips. He could smell the burned flash, and a part of him wanted to kill Rhysand to have let you do it to yourself. But he only placed a gently kiss on it, sensing how you, elegantly, shivered and gave you a charming smile.

He studied you for a monent. Your eyes were looking at him with what was not surely kindness, but at the same time was not hatred too. You were trying to find your place in this new, cahotic world, he understood. His eyes traveled on your dress, and his jaw clenched. You would have been a beautiful living flame if it hadn't been concealed with black, somehow a represantion of how you wanted to conceal yourself to fit in that Court.

"Let me begin the training now with a little advise." Eris said still with your hand in his. Your eyes flashed with curious. "Do not follow blindly those who walk in front of you. You might find out that black is not the colout that suits you best."

He didn't wait for you to process his words as he gave you a last, parting smile and turned on his heels, already putting his mask back on. "See you next week, Little Flame." he mocked over his shoulder as he walked away.

He heard you curse him under your breath, and it only made him grin amused. He found it surprisingly fun to rile you up, it was a kind of amusement that he didn't feel with anyone else. He needed it as a reminder that his equal was indeed like him: fierce, smart, witty and always ready to fight when needed.

He walked toward Rhysand and Feyre, still seated on their thrones, already watching him with their calculated eyes. He was sure that they were probably having a mental conversation about what they had seen, and Eris fought the urge to smirk.

"Did you enjoy the company of my sister?" asked Feyre politely with a lazy smile. He had to admit that both her and Rhysand did a great job at acting like the rulers of the Court of Nightmares.

"Your sister's company had been delightful." He said matching her smile. Before asking them what he wanted he was curious to test the waters. "But I'm curious; you showed me what I can have, Rhysand. I'm intrigued enough to ask what you'd want in return."

He saw Feyre's jaw clenching. She would never sold her sister, and surely not to someone like him, but it was still fun to imply just that.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Rhysand not betraying a single thought that was in his mind.

"I mean that whatever you want, I'll give it to you if you promise to keep her safe and away from my father." Eris said suddenly serious.

He saw the confusion flashing on both rulers' face as they surely spoke to each other mind to mind. Eris knew he was letting them see too much, but it was the only way he could be sure that you would be safe as long as his father was alive. They needed to know in what danger you were if his father ever find out what you and Eris were.

"Explain yourself better." Feyre commanded with a cold voice.

He gave her a mocking grin. "You keep your oldest sister away from my father, and train her. and I'll give you whatever you want. You wanted to reassure our alliance? This is the prize."

"I cannot force her in doing anything she doesn't want to, but I can come up with the right arrangment for that." Rhysand said calmly. "But it seems foolish for you to offer me anything I want in exchange for...her safety. Why would you care so much about that?"

He could see that both Rhysand and Feyre were trying to understand what kind of game he was playing, what kind of tricks he had in mind, so he let his mind shield opening a little, inviting them in his head to speak the words that he could not say out loud.

"Because it seems that the Cauldron gave two Archeron sisters to the Night Court, and two to the Autumn Court." Eris said in his mind, knowing that they both were listening.

Feyre's face drained of colours as Rhysand's eyes hardned and his deep, dangerous voice sounded in his mind. "Why should we believe you?"

Eris smirked and let the memory of the day he had saved you fill his mind, letting them see it. He replied the moment the bond stirred inside him, urging him to run toward you. He made them see the exact moment your eyes met and his whole existence screamed the word Mate all over again. He made them see how he had foolishly followed you to the King of Hybern, keeping you safe until you had run to Nesta. He let them see how hard it had been to return to his father and hide eveything, how scared he had been when after the war he had been sat beside his father while you were right in front of him, terrified that any gaze might give him away. The last memory was of when he had found you outside the Autumn Court's camp, and he had been so close to grab you and winnow on the other side of Prythian, not wanting you close to his father in any way.

He stopped the memories just as the one of when you had cured him started to pop in his mind, and watched careful the reaction of the two rulers in front of him. "I cannot risk for the bond to snap for her when my father or any of his allies are close. He would hurt her to hurt me, and despide what you think of me, I won't let it happen."

Rhysand studied him with a heavy, dangerous attention. "I could keep her away from you and have you do anything I want just for the chance to see her, do you realize that?"

A test. Eris knew it was a test, because Rhysand would never do something like that, but still Eris couldn't help but laugh ironically. "It would be the first time you'd do something smart, Rhysand." he tilted his head in a mocking grin.

"You should speak of this matter with Feyre then." Rhysand stated, making a good job at sounding bored. "It's her sister you are mated with."

"I could have your head in any moment if I suspect you to be a danger for her." said Feyre in his head viciously.

"I would like to think that the bond would make your sister miss me a little if you do that." he answered ironically placing a hand on his heart. "But I'll give you everything else you need. After all you are my sister-in-the-cauldron, you might find out you'll have more advantages from this situation than your boring mate."

"Go away before I test that bond theory." threatened him Feyre making his grin grew wider.

taglist: @adventure-awaits13 @blueeclipsepaperstudent @huffleruffplant @azysmate @bia-wayne-west @babypeapoddd @lady-targaryens-world @sourapplex @ghostwritermia @asteria33 @pinklemonade34 @tell-me-a-poem @sourapplex @speedypersonawhispers @historygeekqueen @marly500 @webvics

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris vanserra x you #autumn court #acotar imagine #acoatr #rhysand #feyre archeron #elain archeron #nesta archeron #azriel #cassian #morrigan

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1980shorrorfilm · 4 months ago

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eyes without a face

please click! happy 2025 :]!! may this year bring u so much joy i love you

pairing…ellie williams x fem!reader x abby anderson

in which…your relationship with abby doesn’t stop ellie from liking you.

before you read…angst. modern au. pathetic losertron 5000 ellie :[ this is just me really wanting to write #that scene from tpobaw which is a warning within itself. truth or dare trope. established messy relationship with abby. dina gets mistreated by ellie </3 did i mention ellie is a loser

it’s not hard to make ellie uncomfortable.

throw her in a crowded party or put her in a room where you’re clinging to abby, and it’s done. easy. like now. her eyes are betraying her, not daring to blink or look away, while abby’s whispering shit in your ear that has you giggling sweetly.

she can’t hear you, the music and chatter are way too loud, but she already knows what the noise sounds like. it’s when she makes a stupid geeky pun as you’re studying in her dorm, that the light laughter turns her face beet red— another thing that’s not hard to earn from ellie.

not from you, at least.

when your fingertips trace her fern tattoo, leaf to leaf, ellie holding her breath and arm in place. showing up to hang out in one of her hoodies you have assumed are yours by now, she’ll let you believe it, because she doesn’t want to change it.

telling her how smart she is. how funny she is. and some vulnerable, teary-eyed, post-argument with your girlfriend nights, how you wish abby were more like her.

compassionate...understanding...kind. things your girlfriend lacks, you had told her. it was one of the more severe arguments and surely said out of resentment, but ellie secretly and happily took it as a win.

if she was blunt, free from nerves that taunt her regularly, ellie would agree. maybe free you from her. become a villain to abby and her friends, the loved group that already despises ellie and her too close proximity to you, and her entire ‘no good’ existence.

but she would be your hero. that’s how she would like to think of herself— but ellie is very self-aware and knows that’s not a reality in any universe. her confidence is nonexistent, and reaching out to you would be reaching for the stars. two things she will only dream of.

you’re with her, that ellie cannot change that. she shouldn’t even be so fucking invested in you or your relationship.

she almost has her own, after all. sort of. it’s complicated, her and dina never put a label on what they were. she couldn’t use the term ‘distraction’ without seeming like the biggest jackass in history, but that is what she is.

searching for the qualities that you beautifully possess, in an entirely different person, and being disappointed she cannot find them. ellie feels bad about it, but somewhere in between those guilty thoughts, she wonders if it’s the same for you.

if you looked at abby and tried to find her in there somewhere, if the same sad realization that they were nothing alike, and you're with the wrong person, hits you as it does her.

shamefully, the idea makes ellie happy.

watching abby lead you away, out of her eyesight, did not make her happy.

“got us drinks,” dina chirps, plopping down onto the couch beside ellie, the auburn-haired girl honestly not noticing dina had ever left in the first place. she hasn't been paying attention to much besides you.

“thanks,” ellie makes sure to tell her, taking the red solo cup, sniffing it, and scrunching her face. the fuck is in that punch? she doesn’t know, but the brunette doesn’t seem to mind, sipping while nodding her head to the beat of the music playing throughout the house.

ellie, trying to be normal, shows a smile and brings the cup to her lips, gulping down the harsh alcohol all at once. she hates it, and she’s surprised she doesn’t throw it up immediately.

“thirsty?” dina jokes, earning an awkward chuckle from ellie, who is still eyeing the crowd before her, waiting for your reappearance.

maybe it will be without her, and she can finally talk to you alone, free from the prying and judgmental eyes of your damn girlfriend. she could barely even greet you when she arrived, the blonde's arm wrapped around your shoulder, subtly pulling you away after ellie got a ‘hi,’ in. asshole.

she will never know what you see in her. why you complain about her one night and then fuck her the next. she understands you with everything, besides your relations with her— unless she is your distraction. she’s hot and everyone with working eyes can tell. you two look great together, but you don’t work great together. not in ellie’s opinion, anyway.

ellie starts to drift now, the muffled noise of whatever story dina was telling and the noisy crowd blending, a headache of a symphony. or perhaps it’s the vile drink already hurting her head. or both and she should just ask dina if they could leave this stupid fucking party.

then she sees you. alone, visibly upset, locking eyes with her for a split second, but that’s all she needs. you don’t stay still, you’re walking away once more, but ellie thinks of it as an invitation. you liked to be with her when you were sad, even if ellie sucked at processing emotions, or giving any sort of advice regarding them.

you noticed this when she kept her mouth shut after ranting about something wrong abby had done, and poor ellie just didn’t know what to say. she never seemed to. you didn’t take issue with it, because the most important thing was, that she listened to you. she let you sob and held you in her always welcoming arms. it was enough for you, and why you’ll always appreciate ellie’s friendship.

you find yourself in the snowy backyard, colorful lights thrown messily on a large tree that young adults stand beneath, smoking a joint. you’d join them if you had the energy to be around people, but your previously high spirits had now gone. it was something little-- but the little nitpicky things somehow always led to a dramatic feud with your girlfriend.

you let out a deep sigh, taking a few steps away from the door and leaning on the house, everything a bit more quiet. your thoughts aren’t, though, not until you see her from your perpetual vision, making her way toward you. her gaze is heavy, examining you and keeping a small distance as she also leans against the brick exterior.

“something happen?” ellie asks, knowing both the answer and the cause.

“what do you think?”

“right…” ellie nods, face flushing red at your bitter sarcasm, which you regret immediately. all she’s trying to do is help. ellie doesn’t take it to heart, though, recovering quickly with a joke. half joke. “want me to beat her up?”

it earns a light chuckle from you, ellie smiling to herself as result.

“no…no…she just…never mind.”

she chews her lip, keeping her focus on her scribbled converse, wishing you would elaborate. not because she specifically wants to hear about what happened, but so you would. you would say the words aloud, rehashing it, rethinking where your relationship stands with her. that’s what ellie wants most.

“i understand,” ellie says, a safe response. much safer than where she’s about to lead this conversation.

“where is she?”

“hm? i don’t know?” you ask back, confused about abby’s whereabouts being relevant to right now. you don’t even care, you don’t want to see her. you turn to ellie, “why?”

she opens her mouth, then shuts it, and opens it again.

“i mean…if my girlfriend and i fought at some stupid party…i wouldn’t leave her alone…” ellie speaks quietly, nervously, fiddling with her fingers, “especially you…”

you don’t get the last part. not how ellie wants you to, green eyes parting from her shoes and to your face, waiting for a reaction— for the realization that you’re standing out in the cold with her, not your girlfriend, who is seemingly pretending nothing happened while mingling with her group of ghouls.

but after letting her comment linger, you laugh slightly. “isn’t your girlfriend alone in there right now?”

“she’s not my—” ellie corrects you too damn fast, gulping, “we’re just friends.”

just friends. dina would probably wear that desolated frown if she heard ellie say that, the brunette was more interested in ellie than ellie to her, it makes sense ellie could never really help you with your relationship.

she was struggling with hers, or whatever she had going on with dina. you just hope she’s happy, and being taken care of, and feeling loved. you wouldn’t know, she doesn’t talk to you about any of that. like it’s too personal, but nothing was ever too personal between you and ellie. you hadn’t thought so.

“well, your friend is probably wondering where you are…you should go back in.”

“i want to be with you.”

again, she speaks too fast. you’re looking at her with unreadable eyes, and it makes her feel weird.

“i-i want to make sure you’re okay,” ellie adds, your lips curling into a soft smile that turns her pupils heart-shaped. always so selfless, putting you before her or anyone else.

you're not surrounded with many people like that, like ellie, making you feel like a priority instead of a burden. wanting to be with you, instead of feeling like she needs to simply because you're not okay. she's the sweetest girl you know.

“you’re my favorite friend, you know that?” ouch.

ouch ouch ouch. yeah, that’s what she is, but when you say it it sounds wrong. as if it’s diminishing what she truly is to you, which is so much more than that cursed f word. and still, she smiles, only half fake. at least she’s your favorite something, she thinks.

“dina is a lucky girl.”

the words take ellie back for a moment, mouth parting slightly despite not having a thing to say. it’s almost teasing her, surely not intentionally, but ellie would forget about dina— or any single person if you had wanted her to. if you wanted her. do you?

there’s a comfortable beat of silence between you two, the snow now beginning to fall lightly. it doesn’t bother you, but you do shiver, and ellie takes notice. she’s already peeling her brown trucker jacket off before you could protest, knowing if abby had seen it, it would start another fight.

abby thinks you’re closer than you should be, and if you truly believed it was solely a concern because of your relationship, you’d be a respectful partner and listen to her complaints. but it’s not.

it’s personal, a vendetta against ellie and everything that she was that you admired. a loser with hardly any friends, a nerd that doesn’t even belong to this party tonight, a freak that’s obsessed with you...abby wasn’t kind to her.

you defend her, but usually, it makes it worse. you couldn’t fix that— them. especially because it’s mutual, though ellie never flat-out said anything cruel about abby. she just never said anything nice either.

“thank you,” you tell ellie as her jacket engulfs you with warmth, and the spicy scent of sandalwood that you only associate with her. it makes you feel like you’re being hugged tightly by her.

it’s the perfect moment. the party is dying down, and the muffled chatter is even quieter. everything is hushed currently, the blanket of snow coating the ground making sure of it. it’s so peaceful— and intimate. maybe even romantic, ellie mesmerized by how beautiful you appear next to her.

she was always amazed by winter images, how the pale snow has a magical contrast to whatever object is in focus. and right now you look like an angel, one she'll be sure to draw in her journal when she gets the chance. immortalizing a nice memory while also impressing you. a win-win.

and the moment is interrupted. “there you are!”

both of your heads turn to dina, an enthusiastic smile on her face as she approaches you both. she notices ellie’s jacket on you, but unlike abby, dina doesn’t care. she had started messing with ellie well aware of her close relationship with you, actually finding it adorable how much ellie cared for you. dina thinks she’s a great friend; that’s it.

“here i am,” ellie responds, showing a tight-lipped smile. a cup is given to her from dina, the brunette then looking to you. “do you want mine?” she motions to the drink in her hands, “i would’ve brought another but—”

“oh— no, designated driver,” you inform her, dina letting out a quiet ‘oh,’ in return.

“okay, well,” dina redirects the topic, eyes drifting to ellie, “they are playing truth or dare and i want you to play with me.”

“i don’t—” “c’monnn.”

dina places her hand on the sleeve of ellie’s flannel, a gentle grip on her forearm as she attempts to pull her away. from you. ellie really doesn’t want to leave, especially to play a stupid fucking no-good game with people she barely knew, but her feet are already moving with dina.

“have fun,” you tease ellie, catching the rolling of her eyes.

then you’re lonely, again, and you despise it.

you accept the defeat of who will apologize first, pushing yourself off the wall and going inside the house. the music is turned off, a few people talking from the living room, and you scan the area hoping to see her.

you don’t— it’s her friends, a few faces you’re not too familiar with, plus ellie and dina. your eyes meet with ellie’s first, sitting on the wooden floor crisscrossed like a child. then her eyes drift behind you.

“hey.”

abby’s voice nearly makes you jump, hip brushing against yours as she stands next to you. she takes in the same sight, people giggling in a circle on the ground, while ellie williams is staring at her lap, appearing so out of place. abby snorts quietly to herself— you pay no mind to it.

“hey,” you copy, shifting out of the doorway and slipping into the kitchen, not wanting this conversation to be held in front of everyone, and ellie. she follows, somehow only now noticing the jacket that doesn’t belong to you clinging to your body. she forces herself to drop it for the time being.

“i didn’t mean to cause a fight. was stupid,” she apologizes without apologizing, folding her arms, bomber jacket tightening around her biceps. she’s right, it was stupid, so stupid you don’t even remember the exact reasoning, as it was so insignificant— a reason to just let it go.

“it’s fine, baby,” you reassure both her and subconsciously yourself, closing the gap between you two. her head is lowered, still feeling unsure about it, not looking you in the eye.

your soft hand cradled her jaw, tilting it upward, finally meeting those stormy irises of hers. they seem so distant, like you cannot look through her and understand anything she is feeling— or thinking. you can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the slowly fleeting tension, or something more. something too much to unpack in a house party.

your lip twitches, “we’re okay.”

abby accepts that, as do you.

the room over is suddenly and loudly in an uproar, abby and you sharing an exchanged look, knowing it was probably something very stupid— and probably abby’s friends. your friends.

“they’re having fun,” abby points on the obvious, a switch in her demeanor that you recognize. she’s tipsy and hungry for you.

you sigh her name when her hands find your sides, dipping her head into your neck to kiss the area. she's taking advantage of the empty kitchen, subtly walking you into the nearest counter, still devoted to the soft flesh of your throat.

you give in, shutting your eyes in bliss for a split moment, before the room over is once again in a loud fit of laughter. it’s too distracting for a make out session.

“let's just—” you gently push her away, ignoring the groan that came with it, “—join them.”

“wha—”

you pull her with you to the other room, dragging her to where ellie sits, and inserting yourselves in the game of truth or dare.

you, of course, next to her, knees nearly brushing, while abby is on the other side of you, a gap between you. the women meet eyes briefly, but leave it at that.

ellie is agitated— she feels hot, not in a good way. maybe it’s the mysterious alcohol, or maybe it’s the fact abby is by your side again. a sight she already dreads, but now, after you made it abundantly clear she had upset you, and you just move on from it. it was easy, and so hard for ellie to witness again and again and again.

dina puts her hand on her thigh, squeezing as she chuckles, bringing ellie back from her dire mind. she tries to mirror everyone else in the room, a bleak smile that doesn't make it obvious she's not enjoying her time here.

this is boring. she doesn't care about someone being dared to suck the toe of another or having to reveal some dumb secret from a truth. she cares about you— yet looking in your direction only bothers her; the girl next to you bothers her.

ellie hates this.

“earth to ellie,” her head snaps to the direction of the voice, recognizing it as one of your better friends made through abby, nora. “truth or dare?”

“i— uh,” she wants to say truth, but she means to say truth, but it doesn’t leave her lips. “d-dare.”

you’re surprised. she's surprised. ellie is often shy in settings like these, especially around your friends where she feels the need to watch everything she says and does. luckily, she's cheered on, everyone expecting her to play it safe, or in meaner terms, be a pussy.

you’re also glad ellie’s fate is in the hands of someone you trust, someone who wasn’t harsh on ellie or your friendship with her. it’s an easy dare, something that doesn’t embarrass her at all, and make her the laughing stock.

“i dare you to…” nora speaks, looking between ellie and dina, “kiss the prettiest girl in the room.”

such an easy dare, it’s almost lame, those aware of ellie and dina being a duo now, groaning to themselves.

but ellie doesn’t do anything.

she’s frozen, not even looking in dina’s direction, but rather yours. you think she’s searching your eyes for courage, but you don’t know what for. this shouldn’t be difficult. seconds are passing, everyone waiting for her to get it over with so they can continue the game.

just kiss her.

ellie can’t. she can’t break eye contact with you. and it’s not hard to understand why that is, your cheeks burning up while the rest of the room seems to go dead silent; also realizing what was playing out before them.

“i’m…i’m sorry,” she speaks hardly above a whisper, low mumblings from around her that embarrass her even more. judgement. it is possibly the worst thing she could’ve done, an awkward tension now between her and dina, and you and her. ellie wasn’t working up the courage to kiss dina in the first place. it was you.

but she wouldn’t do that— only in her head, watching the scene play out while everyone is watching her.

ellie quickly gets up, muttering something you don’t catch, and swiftly walks away. she heads to the front door, everyone’s short attention span already moving on, continuing the game. you cannot.

you stand up, a hand on yours holding you in place, preventing you from moving. you look down at abby and her pleading eyes, letting them do the talking. don’t follow her. stay.

you don’t. you retreat your hand, glancing at a distracted dina who was sipping on her drink, probably trying to ignore what ellie had just done, and you leave the living room.

you too exit the house, spotting ellie approach her truck across the street. you call her name out, the woman hardly turning her head over her shoulder, continuing to get inside the red vehicle. you understand she doesn’t want to show her face now, but she cannot hide from you. no, this has to be addressed.

even if you don’t really know what to say, or how to say it. you jog to her car, welcoming yourself inside, boring your eyes into her, while hers are on the windshield, snowflakes coating the glass.

“what was that, ellie?” you ask her, a soft tone as if you’re trying to understand her, rather than pass judgment. she’s sensitive, and she’s also shown empathy to you in times you’ve made mistakes. but that’s the problem— it wasn’t a mistake. she wanted to kiss you. there was no doubt about it.

“i’m with abby,” you continue when she stays quiet, “and you’re with—”

“no, i’m fucking not,” ellie cuts you off before her name leaves your lips, finally finding the strength to look at you. her brows are lowered, shaking her head, visibly irritated. “we aren’t— i don’t want —i want you.”

there it is. you mentally flinch at the confession, a confirmation on her feelings for you; something that cannot be undone and now will haunt you moving forward. it’s not like you can say the words back, because what you said is true. you are with abby.

your friendship with ellie is a friendship. you sigh her name, lowering your head. for some reason, ellie had hoped this moment would come and it would be different. something out of a coming-of-age film, you coming to terms with feelings she’d like to pretend you had for her. abandoning your girlfriend for her.

but you’re too sweet, and that simply is not happening.

“you...you know that i love you.”

she makes it worse. it has been said between you several times, but not like this. she means it in an entirely different, much deeper, meaning.

you don’t reply.

her brows tilt down, tears beginning to form as her body feels on fire. she’s not overcome with pure sadness, she’s frustrated. really fucking frustrated and confused and feeling alone with the feelings, wondering why you’re so calm— like you don’t care.

she thought you did, but she thinks lots of things about you. the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was mutual. you treated her like it was, you made her feel the most loved compared to everyone else in her life, because you knew the most.

the things that brought her joy, that you went out of your way to fill her life with.

a trading card from ebay. a vinyl she spoke about once. her gas station order after getting high together. the kindest things done with the purest intentions, and nothing more. she’s not ungrateful— she just doesn’t get it. she doesn’t want to.

“y-you can’t not feel something,” ellie sounds like she’s trying to convince you, stages of grief already settling inside her. denial, lots of it.

“ellie—” “you can’t.”

“i don’t,” you rush the words out, voice raising an almost unnoticeable level, but still makes ellie sink into her seat. those building tears are now free, a silent cry while she watches you, avoiding to look at her.

“i’m with abby,” you repeat, wondering why it feels like more of a reminder to yourself, than ellie. why it seems like a shield, protecting some sort of lie, or a truth. you take it further, “there was…never…anything between us…”

she talks beneath her breath, “fucking bullshit.”

“ellie.”

“you’re a liar,” ellie doesn’t care for the stern tone in which you spoke her name, a dark cloud of negative emotions hanging over her head. “she’s not fucking here and you’re trying to spare her feelings…what about me?”

you finally look at her, her glossy green eyes appearing so desperate. like you’re her life line. her heart in your hands. but you can’t give in, or give her what she’s yearning for. you cannot give yourself to ellie.

“you’re my best friend, ellie,” you say, watching whatever light leave her eyes at the comment, “and i love you…just not…”

you stop.

ellie holds her breath. a car honks in the distance. an intoxicated person shouts something inaudible. a chill from the cool wind seeps into her truck. the world is moving quickly while everything feels in slow motion for you. then she swallows thickly, “right.”

she wipes her tears, and you take off her jacket that was still on your body, holding it in your lap momentarily. your fingers trace the fabric, a small gulp before you speak in the quietest voice, “you should go…i need to get back before she gets mad.”

there’s a short, dry, scoff laugh from the girl beside you. “wouldn’t want that,” she mutters, “who would you run and cry to?”

there’s venom on her tongue that you’re not familiar with, hell, ellie doesn’t even know where it came from, biting her lip when you look at her with wide eyes; a cold stare that is equivalent to spitting in her face.

“i’m sorry—”

“i’ll tell them you were being stupid. they’ll forget about it next week.”

you had cut her off, a monotone voice that she despises. you open the car door, exiting despite ellie using your name, not wanting the night to end like this. the winter air sends chills down your spine, and yet it’s more comfortable than sharing the same space as ellie in her truck.

“y/n—”

“drive safe.”

her mouth hangs open, watching you shut the car door and walk away, no hesitation or looking back.

you return to the house, to your girlfriend, while she sits lonely in her pickup truck, not being able to turn on the engine. she can’t move. all she can do is cry; but she’s freezing and the tears feel like frost.

she wishes she had you to wipe them away, as she did for you.

#-insertcatemoji #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson x reader #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #wlw fanfic #ellie x reader #abby x reader #ellie williams fanfic #abby anderson fanfic #ellie williams angst #abby anderson angst #ellie x reader x abby #ellie williams x reader x abby anderson #why are you still reading this? do you want me??

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bellbery · 5 months ago

Text

— [P1] The Heart That Remained (Vander x f!Reader)

Summary: A monster, once a beloved protector, now haunts the tunnels of Zaun. The creature is revealed to be Vander, twisted by pain and rage, leaving his daughters Vi and Jinx to grapple with the truth. As a battle unfolds, past memories and present dangers clash, forcing a choice between saving Vander’s humanity or ending his torment. Love, guilt, and hope intertwine in this intense, emotional confrontation.

Word Count: 5.2k (im a jerk for angst)

Content/Warning: Angst to Fluff, less mention y/n until the ending, a bit bloody?, AND VERY ANGSTY

🖋️ Author’s Note: AS I PROMISED I WOULD MAKE A ANGSTY FIC ABOUT VANDER, and i promise you its worth the while i did my best to put into detail of the character’s personality and the places. It took me 3 days and i’m very happy how it turned out! Before yall read this maybe someone you haven’t watched S2, there will be spoilers obv— and i recommend yall listen to Dead Island Trailer Theme song while reading this cause personally it juST MATCHED THE SCENE IT- i hope yall enjoy my writing this is my 2nd fic! Please comment your feedback and simply support me by like and reblogs! Thank you very much yall!<3

After the chaos of the Piltover Council meeting, guilt gnawed at you like a relentless, suffocating force. Deep down, you knew Jinx—Vander’s daughter—was the cause of the devastation that had torn through the heart of the city. You couldn’t escape the weight of the promises you’d made long ago: to protect Vi and Powder when they were still just children. Those vows now felt like shattered glass, each piece embedded in your soul. You had failed them. And now, hidden behind the mask of an investigator, you carried your shame like a cloak. It was the only armor that allowed you to survive, to push down the searing ache that never seemed to go away. Months passed, and you thought you had found your rhythm in the cold, distant monotony of your work. Then Ambessa hired you. The aftermath of the beast’s rampage in the prison—the blood, the carnage—shattered that fragile peace. It was the most grotesque thing you’d ever seen. The nightmare still burned in your memory, its horrors etched into your mind like permanent scars. The beast, its monstrous presence a cruel reminder of the violence lurking in every shadow, had torn through the fragile walls of your life, dredging up the dangerous ties to the past you couldn’t outrun.

“How could this beast come out of nowhere?” You whispered, the question hanging in the air like a death sentence. Ambessa’s gaze locked onto you, icy and unyielding. The weight of her authority pressed down on you, suffocating. She leaned forward, her voice low, controlled—laced with quiet menace. “You’re asking the wrong question,” she said, her words like a blade. “It doesn’t matter how it got here. What matters is that it’s here now. And we don’t have the luxury of waiting for answers. We deal with it. We don’t waste time wondering why or how—it’s already cost us too much.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, a flicker of impatience cutting through her otherwise steady demeanor. “If you want to stay in this game, you’ll find out who—or what—created this monster. And you’ll do it fast. Before it costs us more.” You nod, the weight of Ambessa’s words settling heavily in your chest. Without a second thought, you move past the cells, your gaze flicking over them with practiced detachment. You push down the swirling thoughts threatening to overwhelm you, focusing on the task at hand. But as you walk, something pulls your attention—a cell, its door locked with an unnerving sense of finality. Something about it doesn’t sit right, a tension building in your gut.

Before you can step closer to investigate, the soft, rhythmic chime of the elevator cuts through the silence. The doors slide open, and out steps Commander Caitlyn Kiramman, her posture rigid, her face set in the same steely expression you’ve come to recognize. She doesn’t glance at you immediately, but when she does, her eyes flicker with a mixture of curiosity and caution. “Commander,” you murmur, your voice steady but carrying the weight of the unspoken. You can’t help but wonder if she’s here to speak of the very thing that’s been gnawing at your thoughts—the beast, the violence, the past that refuses to stay buried. “How is your investigation?” Caitlyn’s voice was steady, her usual sternness masking the exhaustion you knew she carried. Her sharp blue eyes flicked over you, searching for any hint of progress. You hesitated, your gaze drifting back to the closed cell. “It’s… ongoing,” you replied, the words clipped, as your unease bubbled beneath the surface. She followed your line of sight, noticing your fixation. Without waiting for an invitation, Caitlyn strode past you, her footsteps purposeful, echoing in the silence as she approached the cell. “What is it about this one?” she asked, her tone even, though her curiosity was evident. You didn’t answer immediately, the heaviness in your chest growing. “It’s locked,” you said finally, the words feeling too small for the weight of your unease. “But it’s too quiet. Too… deliberate.” Caitlyn reached out, resting her hand lightly on the cold metal bars. “Let’s open it,” she said decisively, her command leaving no room for argument. The tension in her voice betrayed her own unease, though her face remained calm and unreadable.

As the cell door creaked open, the air grew heavy with an acrid, chemical tang. There, sitting upright in the dim light, was a figure that made your breath hitch—Dr. Reveck. His sunken, hollow eyes locked onto yours, recognition flashing briefly across his face. Then came the cold, calculating glare of someone who had already weighed and dismissed your worth. “You’re persistent,” he murmured, his voice low and rasping, as though it hadn’t been used in days. “But persistence doesn’t make you immune to mistakes.” His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that never reached his eyes. “What are you here for? To make another mistake?” Before you could respond, Caitlyn’s sharp footsteps echoed through the corridor, her tone cutting the tension. “Dr. Reveck,” she began, her words laced with authority, “you’re going to answer for what you’ve done. Whatever experiments you’ve been running—whatever monsters you’ve unleashed—it ends now.” Reveck’s expression didn’t waver, though his gaze shifted to Caitlyn with a disconcerting calm. “Answers,” he said, almost mockingly. “The only people who demand them are those too weak to seek the truth themselves.” The sudden clang of metal doors opening at the end of the hall signaled Ambessa’s arrival. Her towering figure filled the space, the weight of her presence silencing any retort Caitlyn might have had. Her eyes swept the scene before resting on Reveck. “This is the man responsible?” she asked, her voice an authoritative rumble. Reveck tilted his head slightly, observing Ambessa with a detached curiosity. “And you are?” he asked, his tone clinical, as though dissecting her existence. Ambessa took a step closer, her imposing frame making the cramped cell feel even smaller. “I’m the one deciding whether you’re worth keeping alive,” she said, her voice unwavering. “And right now, you’re not making a good case.”

The tension in the room was palpable, your pulse pounding in your ears as you stood frozen, caught between these forces of will. Caitlyn glanced at you, her expression tight, as if silently willing you to act or speak. Dr. Reveck finally turned back to you, his gaze sharper now, as though seeing past your mask of authority to the pain you’d been carrying. “Tell me,” he said softly, almost conversationally, “are you here to find answers, or are you just running from your own failures?” Before you could answer Dr. Reveck’s cutting remark, the sharp clink of handcuffs broke the silence. Caitlyn had stepped forward, her features stern as she clasped the restraints over Reveck’s thin wrists. “You’ll answer for your crimes,” she said coldly. “But your cooperation might still buy you a sliver of mercy.” Reveck barely flinched, his pale eyes darting between Caitlyn and Ambessa as if calculating the odds of survival. He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “Mercy,” he echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. “A curious word coming from Piltover’s enforcers. Tell me, Commander Kiramman—how does mercy reconcile with the blood already on your hands?�� Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, but before she could reply, Ambessa’s voice rumbled from behind her. “Enough.” Her tone brooked no argument as she stepped into the cell, her towering figure filling the cramped space. “Your investigation isn’t finished here,” she said, her eyes locking onto yours with a commanding weight. “You’ve uncovered the man, but not the monster.”

Reveck’s lips curled faintly, a reaction as subtle as it was unsettling. “The beast,” he murmured, as though savoring the word. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize. Closer than any of you would dare admit.” Ambessa ignored him, her gaze still fixed on you. “Find it,” she said firmly. “Before this trail goes cold and more lives are lost.”

Reveck’s smile widened slightly, his voice taking on a cryptic edge. “And when you find it,” he said, his tone almost taunting, “you might not like what you uncover.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air as you exchanged a brief, tense glance with Caitlyn. Without another word, Ambessa turned and walked toward the cell door, her presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Caitlyn followed, her hand lingering on her holstered weapon as if still on edge. You stayed behind for a moment longer, your gaze locked with Reveck’s, searching for something in his unflinching expression—a hint of truth, or maybe just an answer you weren’t ready to face.

You stepped out of the cell, the cold air biting against your skin. The echo of Ambessa’s commanding words and Reveck’s cryptic warnings swirled in your head, mixing with Caitlyn’s sharp presence. Every step away from the cell felt heavier, the pressure of what you’d just witnessed settling into the pit of your stomach. Reveck’s words wouldn’t leave you. “You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.” They repeated in your mind like a haunting refrain, twisting your thoughts into knots. What did he mean? And why did it feel like there was more truth in his taunts than anyone cared to admit? The sterile prison corridor seemed darker now, its shadows crawling up the walls like something alive. A prickle of unease traced up your spine. For a moment, you paused, glancing back at the dim outline of the cell. It felt as though something—or someone—was watching. The air was too quiet, heavy with an unsaid warning. You shook your head and looked down, trying to steady your breaths, but your heart stopped cold. There, lying on the cold, stone floor just ahead of you, was a strand of blue hair. It glimmered faintly in the pale light, its color unmistakable. Powder. Your knees threatened to buckle, but you forced yourself to stay upright. A rush of memories flooded back—her laughter, her wide, curious eyes, the promises you made to her and Vi. And then the explosion, the chaos, and everything that came after. Your breathing quickened as you knelt down and gingerly picked up the strand, its texture soft but alien, almost too delicate for something so steeped in blood and tragedy. How did it get here? And why now?

The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before you, the walls pressing in tighter. Your pulse thundered in your ears as a hundred questions screamed in your mind, all vying for answers. But one thought rose above them all, clear and sharp as a knife:

She was here.

And if she was here, then what had you missed? What was waiting just beyond the next shadow? You clutched the strand tighter, a knot of fear and determination tightening in your chest. You couldn’t let this go. Not now. Not after everything. With trembling hands and racing thoughts, you turned and walked toward the exit, but every step away from that cell felt like stepping deeper into the unknown.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, the cool night air biting at your skin. Your feet moved again, this time carrying you toward Zaun. If there was even the faintest chance she was there, you had to follow it. Whether you were ready or not, the path ahead was clear. You had to find her. And this time, you couldn’t fail. You had been at it for hours—no, days—piecing together fragments of evidence that felt more like whispers in the dark. Each lead took you deeper into Zaun’s underbelly: a blood trail smeared across cracked pavement, scorch marks that didn’t belong, and the eerie testimonies of those too afraid to say much at all. The closer you got, the more everything started pointing to one place. You’d seen the tunnel marked on old maps of Zaun—a forgotten artery deep within the district, barely mentioned anymore except in hushed tones. Something had happened there, something people were afraid to talk about. Standing at its mouth now, you could feel the weight of the place pressing on you like a physical force. The green chemfog swirled thickly, the heavy air carrying a stench of rust, decay, and something faintly metallic. It was quiet, unnervingly so, the usual hum of Zaun’s machinery conspicuously absent. You stepped forward cautiously, every instinct screaming at you to turn back. But the faintest trace of blood along the ground caught your attention, leading you further in. Whatever had been here—or was still here—wasn’t human. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a hunt for a monster. This was something personal, a shadow from your past reaching out to drag you back. As you stood at the edge of the tunnel, Dr. Reveck’s voice echoed in your mind, his words heavy with warning.

“You think you’re hunting it, but it’s already closer than you realize.”

The memory of his cold, detached tone sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to brush it off, focus on the task at hand. But it wasn’t easy. There was something about the way he’d looked at you, almost pitying, that gnawed at your resolve.

“You might not like what you uncover.”

The blood trail led further into the shadows, growing thicker, fresher. Each step you took seemed to confirm the truth of his cryptic warning. This wasn’t just a trail—it was a trap, a path carved by something that knew you’d follow. Despite yourself, fear clawed at the edges of your mind. You gripped your weapon tightly, the sound of your own breathing loud in the suffocating silence. If Dr. Reveck was right, if it was closer than you realized, then maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t the beast you were hunting anymore. Your heart pounded in your chest as you ventured deeper into the tunnel, every nerve on edge. The oppressive darkness seemed alive, pressing down on you as if the walls themselves wanted to swallow you whole. Then, breaking through the suffocating silence, you heard it—a voice. A familiar cry echoed through the hollow passage, carrying a name you hadn’t heard in years.

“Powder.”

Your breath hitched, and without thinking, your feet carried you toward the sound. The cry was raw, desperate, and unmistakable. It clawed at the memories you’d buried deep—days spent in the smog-filled streets of Zaun, promises whispered in the dead of night. You turned a corner, and there they were. The sight stopped you cold. Vi was locked in a brutal struggle, her movements sharp and relentless as she fought the towering monstrosity before her. Jinx—no, Powder—was nearby, her chaotic energy radiating even in the chaos, her laughter twisted with something between joy and pain. The beast, its hulking form both animal and something far worse, loomed over them. You stood frozen for a moment, unable to reconcile the scene before you. The two sisters you had sworn to protect were here, together again, fighting a nightmare brought to life. This wasn’t just a fight—it was their fight. But as the beast’s roar shook the walls of the tunnel, you knew you couldn’t just stand there. Not this time. You swung your electro-baton again, sending a crack of electricity through the beast’s thick hide. It staggered back, growling low, but you were ready to strike again. Then, a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like ages cut through the chaos, sharp and frantic.

“Y/N?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you turned, breath catching. There, standing in front of you with wide, shocked eyes, was Jinx. But it wasn’t just her surprise that caught your attention—it was the frantic energy radiating from her as her gaze flickered between you and the monster. Before you could even process the situation, Vi’s voice rang out, filled with desperation. “Get out of the way!” she yelled, her eyes locking onto the beast just as it made a move in your direction. The words barely registered before you heard the guttural growl of the creature, its monstrous form lunging toward you, faster than you could react. Your instincts kicked in just in time as you dove to the side, pushing Jinx out of the way and out of the path of the beast. In the chaos of the moment, you felt a sharp pang in your chest—Jinx’s face, twisted with a mixture of fear and resolve, flashed in your mind for just a second. She wasn’t ready to lose him again. But the situation was slipping further from control, and you couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Before you could strike, a hand shot out, gripping your arm with surprising strength. You whirled around, heart pounding, only to find Powder standing there. Her eyes were wide, frantic, pleading. “Stop!” she cried, her voice desperate, barely above a whisper. But it was enough to freeze you in place, your pulse hammering in your ears. The world seemed to slow as Powder’s frantic cry echoed in your mind.

“It’s Vander.”

For a moment, you couldn’t breathe. The name hung in the air, shattering everything you thought you knew. Your heart pounded against your ribs, memories of Vander flooding your mind—his hands, strong yet tender, holding you close during the darkest times. His laugh, the warmth he exuded when the world around you seemed so cold. He had been your everything. You had loved him with every fiber of your being. But this thing, this beast, it was not the man you had known. This creature, with its bloodshot eyes and twisted form, was not Vander. It couldn’t be. Your hands shook as you tightened your grip on the electro-baton, but it felt wrong—so wrong. The memories of him, so vivid and painful, clashed with the grotesque beast standing before you. You felt sick to your stomach, a wave of guilt crashing over you. You had failed him. Failed to save him. And now, you couldn’t even bring yourself to end the nightmare he had become. Your breath hitched as Powder stepped forward, desperation in her voice. “Please, Y/N, stop. I know it’s him. I can feel him in there. I won’t let you hurt him again.” Her words were a plea, a fragile hope in the storm. But your heart twisted with doubt. You could still hear the screams, the way the beast had ravaged everything in its path. And yet… something in Powder’s eyes, something in her raw desperation, made you falter.

The beast—Vander—lurched forward, its eyes locking onto you with an intensity that nearly paralyzed you. Every memory you had ever shared with him felt like it was being ripped from your chest.“Vander,” you whispered, the word slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The weight of it crushed you. You had spent so many years believing that Vander was lost, that the man you loved was gone. But here he was, in some twisted form, and it was as if everything you had been through had led you to this moment. Powder’s voice trembled as she pleaded once more. “Please, Y/N. Trust me. It’s him. Don’t hurt him. He’s still in there.” The battle inside you was unbearable. Every part of you screamed to fight, to destroy the beast before it could hurt anyone else. But Powder’s face—the vulnerability, the fear—held you in place. Your heart ached for her, for the girl who had once been Powder, the girl who had believed so deeply in the man who had been Vander. And for a long moment, you did nothing. Your body, your mind, were paralyzed by the weight of it all.

You wanted to believe her, wanted to believe that Vander was still there somewhere beneath that monstrous exterior. You swallowed hard, the tears threatening to break free. Slowly, shakily, you lowered the electro-baton, letting it fall to your side. It felt like an eternity, the weight of the decision heavier than any battle you had ever fought. The beast—Vander—let out a low growl, and for a split second, it seemed to hesitate, its glowing eyes softening. And then, before you could process what was happening, it lunged. In a split-second, you shoved Vi out of the way, your body reacting faster than your mind could follow. You felt the beast’s claws rake across your shoulder, pain searing through your skin. The world blurred for a moment, your vision flickering as you stumbled backward, feeling weaker by the second. And then, amidst the chaos, the word tore from your chest.

“Vander…”

The sound of his name was a raw, guttural cry, one that echoed through the tunnels, through your soul. The pain hit you harder than any wound could. Vander, that name, those memories—they tore you apart. You had vowed to protect Vi and Powder, to keep them safe from the horrors of the world, yet here you stood, helpless. The love you had for him, for both of them, never faded. But now? Now you wondered if you'd failed them all. Could you ever undo the damage, or was it too late to save any of them? This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be this. But here he was, and you couldn’t turn away. Not now. Not after everything.

As the beast—the twisted, monstrous form of Vander—pins you to the ground, his massive claw digs into your shoulder, a searing pain that nearly overwhelms you. Your body is trembling, pinned beneath his weight, but you find the strength to cry out. “Vander!” The word escapes your lips like a prayer, a cry full of pain, longing, and grief. For a fleeting moment, the ferocity in his bloodshot eyes falters. There’s a flicker of something, a split-second recognition that makes your heart ache with hope, even as your breath hitches in terror. The claws dig deeper, and for a second, you wonder if it’s all over. The beast’s heavy breaths rattle through your chest, but you can’t stop. This has to be the moment. This has to reach him. With what strength you have left, you lift your free hand and place it gently on his massive claw, the very one that could end your life. You speak the words that have haunted your thoughts, words full of both love and desperate sorrow, knowing they might be the last you ever speak to him.

“It’s me... your sunshine.”

The words hang in the air, fragile and raw, and for a heartbeat, time seems to stop. The beast’s gaze flickers—just for a moment—as if the sound of your voice stirs something deep within him. There’s a trembling hesitation in his claw, as if he’s hearing something buried beneath the rage and the pain, something that reminds him of who he was. In the chaos of your heart, you realize your words are more than a plea. They’re a lifeline thrown into a sea of darkness, hoping that some part of Vander will catch it. For a heartbeat, you feel the world shift, the crushing weight of the beast’s form loosening as something human flickers in the depths of his eyes. His growls soften, his body stills, as if struggling against the flood of memories. Then, as if through a fog, his voice—gravelly, strained, broken—rumbles from the depths of his throat, just a whisper but heavy with a history that neither of you could erase.

“Y/N…?”

The name feels like a weight lifted off your chest, like the first breath after drowning. His voice is there, faint, but real. Vander is still in there. You can feel it—the man you loved, the one who had promised to always protect you, the one who had once held you close during the darkest nights, is right here in front of you. Tears blur your vision, and your body trembles, caught between the raw pain, the disbelief, and a flood of emotions you never thought you’d face again. With a trembling breath, you whisper, “It’s me, Vander… it’s your Y/N…” In that moment, his once ferocious red eyes flicker. A slow shift begins, and your heart seizes in your chest as you see something break through the fog—a glimmer of blue and green cutting through the fire. For a single, fleeting second, you see Vander there, in his eyes. The man you loved. The protector who had once carried you through the worst storms. It’s real. He’s still in there. The grip around you tightens, not with violence, but with a deep, consuming desperation. His body trembles with something far greater than rage—something more human. His chest releases a low, guttural breath, the growl that once shook the air now softened, trembling with the weight of all that he has become, all he’s lost.

He’s no longer the man you remember, not entirely. But he’s not the beast either. No longer fully consumed by it. It’s somewhere in between, and in that space, you cling to him like you’ve never clung to anything before. You feel his hands, so monstrous and terrifying in their size, holding you close— holding you. He pulls you in with a desperation that makes your chest ache, his form trembling as if he’s afraid you might slip away again, as if this might all vanish in an instant. The sheer weight of him, the warmth of his touch, releases everything you’ve buried deep inside—the fear, the questions, the pain, the grief. Every memory of him, of what you lost, surfaces and consumes you. Your sobs come, raw and uncontrollable. The sound fills the air between you, as you let go of everything you’ve carried alone all this time. And in the grip of this agony, in the midst of your sobbing breaths, you feel Vander—the man who once loved you—is still fighting to hold onto you, still fighting to be the protector he once was. His arms, still massive, still deadly, are now filled with tenderness. He doesn’t need to speak, not yet. His embrace says everything. He’s still here, he’s still fighting, and he hasn’t forgotten you. In that moment, you realize that the beast, the rage, the monstrous form—none of it can take away who he was, who he still is to you. Tears blur your vision even more, but you no longer try to stop them. You let them fall freely, because in the midst of the devastation, the pain, and the years you spent wondering if this day would ever come, you know— he’s here. Not just in body, but in soul. And you’ll hold on to him, no matter what form he takes. You’ll fight for him, just as he fought for you.

As Vander’s gaze shifts toward Powder and Vi, his monstrous form trembles slightly, and the flicker of recognition in his eyes softens further. Despite the beast he has become, there's a tenderness in the way he moves, his massive arm opening wide, offering a place for them to find solace in his embrace. The look in their eyes is a mix of agony and hope, the weight of everything they've endured written across their faces. It’s clear they’re torn between fear of what he’s become and the desire to believe that the father they once knew is still inside.

Without a word, you reach out, your voice quiet but full of emotion.

“Go to him. He’s still your father. He’s still here with us.”

The words are simple, but they carry the weight of years of grief, the ache of a lost family and the hope of its fragile restoration. Powder’s eyes fill with tears, and Vi, standing beside her, slowly steps forward. The two of them move together, drawn toward Vander’s open arms, like a long-buried longing finally being met. They collapse into his embrace, and the world around you seems to pause. Vander, in his monstrous form, holds them close, his massive arms gentle yet desperate, as though he’s afraid they might disappear if he holds them too loosely. The pain, the fear, all of it melts away in this moment, replaced by something simple—love. He’s still their father, still the protector who had raised them. Even now, with all the darkness and the destruction surrounding them, Vander is here, alive, and for this moment, whole.

And you stand back, watching them hold each other. The tears in your own eyes sting as you witness the reunion, knowing that, despite everything, the heart of the man you loved is still present. He is their father— your Vander—and for that, you are thankful.

430 notes · View notes

letorip · 1 year ago

Text

somethin’ stupid

“and then i go and spoil it all, by saying somethin’ stupid like ‘i love you’”

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x reader

summary: even knowing that your relationship with wednesday is one huge grey area, you can't help the words that come tumbling from your lips one night while on an expedition together.

warnings: blood, violent attack scene, angsty pining, mentions of sex, fear of the dark

word count: 4.2k

A/N: first post, kinda nervous. honestly pumped to start posting on here after being somewhat new to writing. will try my best not to suck.

===+++===

It’s only after you meet Wednesday Addams for the first time that you understand why storms are named after people.

In the near five months total she had been in your life, she had quickly climbed to the top priority, and you found yourself trapped in her rain bands, tugged under her dark, swelling tide and drawn to less direct ways.

Now and likely until the very end of time, you followed her through the forest, peeking around each passing tree and shining your flashlight into the dark. It was a knight's sword for you, and you held it like a weapon so as to ward off evil spirits or howling beasts. Only, half of the time it ended up being a squirrel.

It seemed antithetical, to walk into the pitch black forest that had killed several hikers and injured Eugene, -or more the big ass creature inside it had, but Wednesday had never cared much for what made sense, and you knew better than to argue with her.

The rain continued to fall around the both of you, splattering against the hood of your rain coat and rolling down your sputtering lips, tracing your nose on the way down. If Wednesday was at all affected by the rain, she hadn't let it show yet. Not that she let much show, that was.

You shivered from a sudden gust of cold, wet wind rushing over your knuckles from where they white-gripped the rubber wrapping of your flashlight. "Are we almost there yet?" You asked, squinting into the trees. "I have to get up early tomorrow."

There was no possible way Wednesday could know where she was going in the sheer amount of darkness fended off by a flimsy Acebeam, but she pushed through like she did. Maybe orienteering was just part of the outré magic she always carried with her, or at least that's what you figured it probably was. In another life she had been a cheerful girl scout, though you knew better than to suggest that aloud.

The same could not be said for you, who was an utter idiot about directions and probably would have driven off a cliff by now without the use of a GPS. Wednesday had once said you wouldn't be able to find your way out of a cardboard box, and offensively, she was probably right.

It didn't make sense why she chose you of all people to bring along, then. You had no special strength or sight, and virtually no knowledge on how to investigate a murder, especially the serial kind. The only ability you had allowed you to read thoughts and minds, though you never dared read Wednesday's, even when you itched to know what she was thinking.

Despite feeling more like an achor dragging her boat down, almost every evening, at around the same time after dark, she showed up on your doorstep to tug you off to some dangerous place.

Maybe you were secretly hoping for a reward of some sort. She often indulged you as such, lips like a heroin shot directly to your veins, powering you through the day as you watched the clock tick away into night anticipating the next rush. Enid was right. You were whipped for her.

"Your protesting doesn't make the journey any shorter," she replied, turning with the dark look that always lurked in the back of her eyes.

You knew the movements well: when she glared, her eyes lowered slightly and her mouth tensed. One could not help but watch in awe, storing the memory for later. Or, at least those ‘whipped’ for her couldn’t. She spun back around to face forward, your flashlight pointing over her shoulder into the brooding dark.

The rain only seemed to come down harder from there, punishing you both for slogging through the mushy leaves when sane people would be indoors. But Wednesday would not settle until she found Arcadia.

You cleared your throat, uneasy with the ensuing silence.

"Where are we even going, Wednesday? We've been walking forever," you said, looking down at the pale grey rocks as you stepped over them. You were grateful for being clever enough to remember hiking boots.

"We're finding evidence," she replied. "I was informed of a suspicious cave out in the forest, and-" Wednesday's words came rushing to a halt as her foot clipped the rock in front of her. She stumbled a bit, and you threw out an arm to her back, there if she needed something to steady herself on.

It was uncoordinated and it was clunky at best, and Wednesday was far from appreciative. She jolted back from your touch as if you had stung her, glaring as harsh as ever. "Sorry," you said. "I didn't want you to fall." The tips of your ears had begun to burn again, upon realising you were made the fool for another time in a row.

"You should have," said Wednesday, walking ahead. "It simulates dropping dead." Of course, on you, such a statement did not have the desired effect. Whereas most would have replied in shock or disgust, you laughed. Out loud, right at her. The gall. She whipped back to you, perplexed and annoyed by the noise. "Have something to share?"

You grinned. "You can act cool all you want, but if you had actually landed in the mud, you would have been pissed." Her expression went from glare to glower impressively quickly, though you took great glee in the fact she didn't try to dismiss it.

Anyone who had just met her would have been terrified, but you knew that look meant she hated just how much you were right. Wednesday's moody eyes lowered to your jacket, as if she was looking for an insult to sling in response.

"Why are you yellow?"

You blinked, then shrugged. "Because for someone so intelligent I'm the only one who remembered a raincoat."

"The beast will eat you wether you're rained on or not," she replied reasonably.

You blanched at this. It was apparent the possibility had never crossed your mind. "It eats people????"

Suddenly the darkness of the woods only seemed to worsen and the rain seemed to come down even harder, as if life was laughing at the terror it was causing. You had never been one for haunted houses, and you decided in that instant that this was far worse than any haunted house you had ever been to.

Wednesday shrugged, and you were far from put at ease by that. She glanced at you up through mischievous lashes, entirely knowing what she was doing and enjoying every sadistic moment of it.

"I suppose we may find out tonight. I should offer up you, the yellow highlighter, first. You have longer bones than I do, and I'm sure it would appreciate a snack, after-"

"Ha. Ha."

As surprising as was Wednesday's capacity to joke, you knew that's all it was. Such falsehoods could not be exposed to the public, and she would rather die than admit she cared for anyone. That was her secret. You knew to keep it well.

It had been weird to see Wednesday attempt comedy at first. Often times you still thought she may be dead serious. But on these nightly expeditions it seemed she could joke freely. Sometimes she kissed you freely. You just had to know she didn't do it for you. She told you constantly, just to be sure.

From in front, Wednesday trembled from a sudden angry breeze and you watched her, sighing and tugging off your raincoat. You tossed it over her shoulders wordlessly; Wednesday didn't acknowledge it either. She put one arm in, then another, but didn't pull the hood up, and you rolled your eyes. "Pull the hood up, Wednesday. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm fine," she shot back, tone sharp and piercing to any sort of armour you could have put up. But even that didn't make you buy it.

"Your hair is like, stuck to your forehead, Wednesday. Just pull up the hood part."

"I don't even want to be in this dreadful thing, why would I want more of it on me. It's yellow."

"It's keeping you warm."

"I'm allergic to colours."

"Well then I guess it's great you brought a black one- oh, wait! That's right! You didn't."

She blinked at you unappreciatively, but your unimpressed expression made her give in, and she begrudgingly did as she was told. With a hood now over her, shrouding her soft hair from the harsh rain, you felt a bit better about her being out in the cold. After a moment she grumbled, messing with the sleeves. "Why are your arms so freakishly long?"

You didn't answer, biting back a response that included the word 'short.' It would have been entirely unproductive and probably earned a rock thrown at your head. Instead, you focused on the small row of houses you could see on a road in the far distance.

Their windows were small, warm boxes in the dryness, as opposed to the pouring, angry storm only a heathen of some sort would be caught in. It looked the same as it had the week before when you had passed the same area with Wednesday, and you recognised the same lamp that sat in the same spot of the same window on the second floor. It hadn't moved even an inch and neither had the flowers in the pot sitting next to it.

You hummed, "I love streets like those. It looks so warm and comfortable. I could be out here forever and it would still be the same warm place."

"Poetic," Wednesday dryly replied. Poetry had never seemed to move her much, beyond the grim ones from Poe about death and despair. She had tried to teach you about it once, during an impromptu "study session," which was what Wednesday usually called hunting you down after class and sticking your head between her legs.

It was the very first time she had let you stick around after, and the more and more often she let it happen, the more you felt yourself allowing for false hopes. Of course, accusing her of growing fond was a way to end up in an early grave and you knew better.

It had been a whisper, really, what she said with your head resting on her stomach, arms against the skin of her thighs. You were both sweating, terribly so, and then came, "years of love have been forgotten, in the hatred of a minute." It was only a whisper, and you weren't even sure Wednesday had spoken it into existence. But you looked up, and she was staring down at you, eyes unreadable. Her mouth was tensed into a grimace; a symbol for words unsaid.

"What's that?" You asked, leaning your head back.

She had shook her head. "It's Poe. He founded the school."

"I know who Edgar Allan Poe is, Wednesday. I meant what you were saying."

She looked away to the window, like eye contact then would have doomed her. "I'm not sure." It was a lie, and you knew it, but you couldn’t scan Wednesday’s thoughts and it was the first time she had let you stay propped up against her. You knew better than to ruin that.

"Why do you like that kind of poetry, anyhow? It's awfully depressing."

"It's a reminder," she replied, eyes still away and tone flat. "You and I will be in the ground someday, or maybe I will be in the family crypt. 'As you are now, so once, was I.' And other such ruminations. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." Her gaze sliced back to you, as if she were gaging your reaction. "Either way, we're doomed."

You hadn't known what she meant by that, and you still didn't know, walking through the forest. She spoke in riddles, and it was impossible to know if she wanted you to decipher them or leave them as they were. Her vagueness with emotions was her armour, maybe.

Wednesday was usually cold and efficient and exact, in a way you could appreciate. You were far warmer, and though you seemed to constantly trip over yourself, patiently waiting for any sort of warmth to be returned, she stayed with the same chill that kept you close enough to bring comfort to her fingers, but never close enough to make her melt.

"When we get there, I want you to stay outside and keep watch. Don't come inside with me, I want to look around alone. If you hear anything or any noise or thoughts over the rain, give me the signal I trained you on," said Wednesday, looking through the bowers and thread veins of roots so as not to trip again.

"You're not my boss, Wednesday, and I'm not your henchman," you said, the words spilling out in annoyance. You hated when she went into work mode. She looked over at you, eyes giving an intense challenge.

"What am I then?"

You rolled your eyes at this. "Like my hobby, at best." It wasn't true, and both of you knew it.

"Do you kiss and sleep with all your 'hobbies,' then?" Wednesday's eyes studied you.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I don't really kiss and tell." Actually, you hadn't kissed anybody since she had made out with you two days prior, and you hadn't kissed somebody other than her since she had first kissed you two months ago.

You knew, though, that Wednesday had done similar peregrinations with the normie boy, Tyler, from town who worked at the Weathervane. Sometimes you wondered if she put her lips on his, too. Other times, you couldn't help wondering if either of you really mattered to her.

She had said no when you asked her that once before, but slow danced and made out with you immediately after answering, at the Rave'N, so your confusion was understandable. It was like she both hungered for you and hated you for it at the same time, and you knew getting thrown around like that wasn’t what you wanted. But if it gave you her, even for a brief moment, you were all too eager.

From behind the both of you, you heard a branch snap, spinning around as the rain poured. There was nothing visibly there; your stupid flashlight didn't reach out that far and no moving through the brush could be heard. "Did you hear that?" you said to Wednesday, freezing completely. She nodded, but did not seem phased even slightly, turning to watch your terror with an eyebrow raised.

“Likely an animal," said Wednesday.

You were still frozen to the spot, staring into the dark as fear screamed at you to run away. “Are you okay?” she asked, puzzled.

You shook your head, sticking your hand out towards her. “No.” It was a question that needn't be asked. Wednesday examined your fingers closely, like she was contemplating if it was a bad idea, but then grabbed your palm and held it tightly in hers, locking the digits in with her own and squeezing it gently. It was an immediate comfort and you unfroze, Wednesday pulling you into the dark.

===+++===

"Your obnoxious coat is warm...thank you." She seemed to spit the last part out with a bit of reluctance, but you appreciated it nevertheless. For around the last half mile, you had been getting rained on instead. Droplets dripped from your hair, rolling down your cheeks and over your lips before dribbling from your chin.

"You can keep it for a while. Until you get your own, I mean," you said, absentmindedly playing with the flashlight. You would rather die than admit you were nervous aloud. Luckily, it didn't seem you needed to.

She stopped short at your words, grabbing your collar roughly with her hand and balling it between her fingers. It was harsh and it was passionate, like Wednesday always seemed to be in flares. Her mouth crashed into yours, teeth clinking together, toes poking into the mushy ground so she could even reach your face.

Unfortunately, it was over as soon as it began, and she pulled away quickly, walking away and leaving you behind, panting awkwardly as your mind began to spin. She was all too much, everything about her. You couldn’t stop yourself. "I love you,” you blurted out.

From the way she whipped back to you, it hadn’t been nearly quiet enough. Silence seemed to echo through the clearing, even in the raging storm around that pounded into trees and pooled in mushy puddles. She stared at you, and all you could do was stare back. Wednesday stomped back over, cheeks red and dark eyes shining with an unusual capriciousness. ��What?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”

But she didn’t believe you. In previous attempts by you to draw out any indication of her affections, she could blatantly ignore it or change the subject without answering. Now, she was frustrated by how you always wore your heart on your sleeve. And this time, how your words demanded she do the same.

“What did you say,” she demanded. “Tell me right now, or I’ll-“

“I said I love you, Wends,” you cut her off before she could make a threat. God, she stared. She stared and stared and stared at you with her eyes in the dark, looking like she would be the one to read your mind and not the other way around. The humidity of the rain was suffocating you, but the powerful wind filled your lungs with air again, in a vicious, heaving cycle.

She took a small step forward, tilting her head up at you like she was inspecting you up close. “You don’t mean what you say.”

"I really wish I didn't, but I absolutely do." Your tone burned with a relieving candor, and Wednesday's eyebrows furrowed, before she backed away again. Your flashlight turned towards the ground, lowering your face into shadow.

"I told you, I don't want anything more from you," she said. "You're spoiling what we already have." She seemed more agitated than anything, but you stood your ground.

"But I feel like there's more here, Wednesday. I know I'm not crazy, you can feel it too. So I don't know why you're being all tough, when I just want to take care of you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"Learn to want for something else then," she argued back. "We can't work, we won't, I-"

"Why?"

"I told you why," she replied, crossing her arms. "Years of love-"

"No no, none of that bullshit you know you want to confuse me with. Just lay it out, plain and simple."

She bit her mouth shut, then narrowed her eyes at you before giving a huff. "Have you been reading my thoughts?"

"What?" Your forehead creased into lines, staring at her intently. "You know I don't."

"I don't know if you're aware, but I see you, in my visions sometimes. I actually think about the same one often, when I'm with you."

"What am I doing, then?" You asked, feeling a sickness come to your stomach. You didn’t know what future event you would be up to, but you could guarantee Wednesday you would stop yourself from hurting her.

“You’re being killed. By the beast.”

“…Oh.”

“You’re running far away, being chased. I see you get tackled or hit, and you fall into the dirt. Then I see your face being slashed over and over again by a creature, and you appear to bleed out on the floor of a forest.”

“Wednesday, that won’t come true.” You tried to assure her, but a small hand came forward, covering your mouth, shushing you. The gentle palm pressed against your soaked lips, fingertips ghosting the lines of your cheeks.

“I would hate you for it, dying. What I hate even more is that your closeness to me is likely what causes this. I don’t love you, (Y/n). I can’t. Stop trying to make me. It’s only pitiful and painful for the both of us.”

You reached up for her hand, pulling it away. “But how do you know it’s definitely you that ruins it? What if it’s something else, or what if it’s you saying no?”

“Because as painful as it is, I’m certain I break your heart if I indulge you.”

“Wednesday,” your voice shook a bit. “You’re breaking my heart right now.”

“This,” she said, “This is why I cannot give you more than I already have. I’m not my parents, (Y/n). Can’t you just be happy with our current relationship? You always try to complicate things. Like a stupid little puppy.”

You took a step back like a wounded animal. “What? You’re being mean.”

“Maybe if I am it'll get through to you. We won’t work, and if we don’t try to make it work, I won’t end up breaking your heart, and you won’t run away.” Her speaking volume was getting louder now.

“That’s a stupid plan!” You said raising your voice.

“And you’re a fool!” She said back. “I’m trying to protect you and take what I can get at the same time."

"You're hurting me."

"You're hurting yourself. I keep pushing you away. Stop coming back."

You frowned, feeling your face grow hot. "I come back because I care, and I know you care too."

"Caring for you gets me nowhere. You're doomed, (Y/n). I'm trying to protect you, so do us both a favour and get as far away from me as possible. Don't let me pull you back."

"Wednesday, I-"

"Go, you idiot." You swallowed her words. She was still wearing your yellow raincoat, looking at you with the most steely expression you had ever seen. You stepped forward in silence, only the mushing of the leaves filling the space between you. You unwrapped the armband of the flashlight from around your wrist and extended it out to her.

"Here. For the cave." She blinked at you, then she took it. Without another word, you did as you were told, stepping off into the dark and pulling against the magnetic field. With your ability to break past her facades turned off, you couldn't see the deep regret that wormed its way into her stare, watching your back retreat into the tree line.

===+++===

It only took around five minutes for you to regret not having the flashlight. The storm had turned to complete and utter chaos, and you could hear thunder and lightning booming and cracking against the night sky. Everything was so much darker than before, and it seemed to grow up and out like a giant ladder, turning to shadow and fog a few feet in front of you.

Part of you was still mad at Wednesday. Knowing she was scared for you didn't make it any of an easier pill to swallow. Neither did knowing you would likely die soon.

The looming question still sat unanswered, weighing down the wrinkles of your brain and cozying up at the mantle of your thoughts. Would it be weeks? Months? If she never ended up catching it (though that was very unlikely) how many years would you have left?

From behind you, you heard a branch snap again. You spun, looking around. An animal maybe. Then, you heard footsteps. They were big, though not an animal. Maybe it was Wednesday. She wore thick shoes often, with heavy soles.

It was only with the sudden realisation that there was no flashlight with the figure coming towards you, that your eyes began to widen and a chill shot up your spine like a spooked animal. It only took the dropping of your telepathic cancelling to fully realise what was about to happen.

KILL. KILL. KILL.

The monster's thinking was thunderous and loud, and it reverberated within your skull as you turned to run. You stomped your foot into the swampy ground, running the fastest you felt you ever had. KILL. The forest seemed to blur, rushing past you as you fled through the trees and smacking at branches that sagged in your way.

KILL. You heard the footsteps now, coming up quickly. They sounded huge, and with every bound you could hear greenery get smushed behind you as the beast moved through it. KILL. You had no idea how close it was behind you, but there was no time to look either. In one rush, you found yourself back in a stoney quarry, and in the far distance illuminated a KILL. streetlight standing over a mountain road.

You ran towards it, face scratched by a branch in the process as you forgot to swipe it away. The wood KILL. connected with a stabbing pain, piercing your lip as you ran, but you didn't so much as wince. "HELP!" You yelled KILL. out, trying to catch any attention as you ran for the pavement, and you were almost there. KILL.

You were too slow. A set of long, pointy claws latched onto your back, sinking into the skin and ripping you down with a yelp, throwing you to the ground. Your back slid into the tree with a sickening crack, and pain seemed to freeze your body. KILL.

Standing over you was the muscular, horrifyingly disfigured body of a towering creature, its eyes shining with violent zeal. It lowered with a clicking growl, eyeing your heaving, bleeding body and sneering. KILL. KILL. KILL.

Your eyebrows furrowed, blood spilling from your lips. In a single instant, you knew who it was, digging past the monstrous yells to the real thoughts of the boy underneath. "Tyler?"

Its claws sunk into your stomach, and everything went dark.

===+++===

a/n: a part two maybe? idk, i'm no rocket scientist. anyways, this is my very first post, so, here we go i guess? excited to start this and grateful for anyone who reads this. i tried to spellcheck but if it isn't perfect please please please let me know, i would fix it immediately.

#wednesday addams x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x you #wednesday netflix #jenna ortega

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jirsungs · 7 months ago

Text

first halloween... gone wrong? | dms drabble #4

word count: 1.6k words

pairing: drummer!jisung x girlfriend!reader

synopsis: halloween was never your favorite. you would choose christmas over it in a heartbeat, but with your dorky drummer boyfriend who absolutely loves it never leaving your side, you might just tolerate the spooky holiday. (set in the drum me, stupid universe but can be read as a standalone!)

warnings: a knife is mentioned, the dms!couple is flirty and GROSS, but most of this is just fluff.

a/n: HIIII 😭 jirsungs nation, rise! it's been 2 weeks since any story related post has been uploaded, and i just want to deeply apologize for not being here ): i missed writing and putting my delusions down in a google doc. but i hope you guys enjoy this short drum me stupid drabble and missed these cutie patooties as much as i did ☹️ as always, feedback is ALWAYS loved and appreciated! happy reading <3

You were never fond of Halloween. Sure, you loved being able to go all out in costumes and go to Halloween parties with your friends, but you knew immediately that once those plans were over, you were left in your own accompaniment once again.

Some people would be joyful with spending the rest of their nights after parties and such alone, but you? You were used to the party scene and loved it when it never ended. Lucky for you, your dorky boyfriend of a few months, Park Jisung, always kept the party going.

“Hey, have you guys seen Ji?” You asked Ningning and her boyfriend, Jeno, after finally spotting them dancing together on the dance floor. Your voice was louder than usual due to Michael Jackson's Thriller bumping from the party speakers.

“No, we thought he was with you." Ning looks over to Jeno. “I thought he came with you and the guys.”

You both wait for Jeno's reply, but he just shrugs. “He was supposed to, but he was the last one to get ready. If anyone knows where he is, that's Chenle.”

You click your tongue. “I figured. I'm going to keep looking for him. Thanks, guys!”

Ning’s shout of “Good luck!” was the last thing you heard before you committed to walking through the crowd of musty bodies. You were surprised at how many people went all out on their Halloween costumes this year. Your surprise wasn't a bad thing though; if anything, you loved it.

You almost second-guessed your choice of costume. With you and Ning being the only girls in the group, you felt that it was right if the both of you matched. The angel costumes were cute; you were wearing a black tight dress while she wore white, but taking a look at the decided costumes this year, you began to feel basic.

Once you're out of the crowd, you spot Haechan, Mark, and Yeonjun in the corner. You take notice of Yeonjun trying his best to impress some girl while the two boys next to him silently judge, taking occasional sips out of their red solo cups.

Haechan, in his Pennywise makeup and attire, sees you walking towards them, tilting his head at your costume. “What are you supposed to be? A demonic angel?”

Mark snickers at his friend's comment, which you pout at. “No. I'm just an angel who happens to wear black. And says you, Pennywise, isn't your costume like... super basic?”

Haechan gasps, his hand on his chest for the dramatic effect. Mark rolls his eyes and answers your question instead.

“Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.”

“Ahhh… So, that explains your Leatherface mask.”

With a nod of his head, Mark replies with a “Yup.”

You glance back at the party, and the sudden remembrance of why you came up to them in the first place hits you. “Oh! By the way, have you guys seen Jisung? I literally can't find him anywhere.”

Your body physically sulks at their answers, telling you they haven't seen him in a while. With your hope slowly decreasing and the urge to ditch the party increasing, you decide to call him one last time. If he doesn’t answer, you’ll cut the party short and head home, unfortunately finding the comfort of your bed more enjoyable than being here. You loved the company of your friends, but it bummed you out that you haven’t seen your boyfriend all night after him telling you that he’ll be here.

After bidding your goodbyes to the group and giving Jeno the responsibility to get Ning home safely, you make your way to your car. It's late October with the breeze finally coming through, resulting in you rubbing your arms in hopes for warmth. As you walk, your ears pick up on the sounds of your heels clicking against the sidewalk cement until they pick up another pair of footsteps near you. At first, you don’t sweat it, already aware of the scattered groups outside of the frat.

But as you walk more down towards your car, the shuffling footsteps don’t leave you. Okay, you’ve had enough of this. Your slight irritation was slowly increasing due to this sudden interruption of your plans to waste the rest of your night away by changing out of this angel get-up and watching comfort films.

The only person you craved to see you in this costume was nowhere to be found, anyway. Finally turning around, you face the person but stay near your car for safety reasons.

“Who are you, and why do you keep following me?” You ask.

You didn’t mean to have your words come out sharply, but when you found out your culprit to be someone in a Ghostface costume, it only made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but if you’re just here to mess with me, is it okay if you can choose someone else? I really don’t have the energy for this.”

A beat passes and still no response from the person. It was almost as if their feet were stuck in the cement; you were starting to feel chills at the creepy mask staring back at you. But then, your brain starts to put the pieces together.

The replay of what Mark told you earlier back at the party plays in your head. “Every year, the Rockway guys do a group costume. This year, we somehow decided on iconic horror movie killers.” Would it be a coincidence that Jisung, who you haven’t seen all night, just happens to be right in front of you?

Your face softens at the thought of the mysterious Ghostface being your boyfriend. “Ji, baby, if that’s you, I’m going to smack you. Where have you been all night? I called you three times.”

Still no answer, but now they were slowly walking towards you, revealing what they were holding behind them to be a knife. From where you’re standing, you couldn’t tell if it’s real or a fake replica, but that doesn’t stop your grip on the driver seat handle tightening, ready to pull on it and get the hell out of here.

But you try one last time. “Okay, quit it. This isn't funny.”

By this point, the wondering thoughts of whether this was Jisung or not cloud your mind. You’re now close to each other, and the Ghostface still hasn’t said anything.

You know what? Fuck it! You’re not dying today!

You tug the car door open, ready to rush inside, but the masked John Doe shuts the door before you can. Their gloved hand doesn’t budge on the door, making their body lean against it and impossible for you to get inside.

The fact that they haven’t shoved the knife into your body by now has you suspicious and less frightened, but more agitated. Finally, they remove the mask from their face, revealing—

“Hi, pretty angel.”

Your stupid, cheekily smiling boyfriend.

He has no time to lean in and give you an apologetic kiss on the lips before you smack him on the chest and punch his arm. “You motherfucker!”

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

Your eyes squint at him asking you that, resulting in another punch to his arm. “Don’t ‘what the hell was that for’ me! You scared the shit out of me!”

You’re about to smack his chest again, but Jisung’s reflex hits faster than yours. Not giving you another opportunity to hit him, he’s quick to take hold of both of your wrists, which you immediately try to get out of. You hate (love) how strong he’s been getting. With his constant drumming and going to the gym with the guys on the side, it became more and more difficult for you to get out of his grip.

With your hands unable to move, he takes the chance and plants quick kisses all over your face. Your face flusters quickly with you trying to move away from his lips. He knows he got you when your tugging to get out of his hands stops and you start giggling.

“Ji, stop it!” Your giggles only increase when his kisses do, leading him to drop your hands and place his on your waist instead.

“I missed you. I’m sorry I didn’t answer; I wanted to keep up the bit of scaring you.” He says after giving you a big cheek kiss and pulling you closer to his chest.

You can’t stop the giddy smile forming on your face. “It’s okay. Just never scare me like that again or I will—” you point your pointy finger on his chest, almost in warning, creating some space between you two, “cut your balls off.”

But he pays no mind to your threat, smiling down at you like a loser in love. “Yes, ma’am. Never again.”

You encircle your arms around his waist, looking up at him doe-eyed. “Now, can we please go home and watch comfort movies?”

“Can I first admire how fuckin’ gorgeous you look in this and then go home?”

Oh. You forgot you had this costume on.

Your cheeks heat up at his words. “Language, Park. You could’ve admired this all you wanted earlier if you didn’t leave me alone the whole night.”

He pouts, “Will I at least see this costume some other time, baby?”

"Hmm.” You pretend to think. “I guess, you just have to wait and see.”

“Why wait when I can see it on you tomorrow?” There's a glint in his eyes, and you know it can only mean trouble.

“Easy, drummer boy.”

Little did he know that his almost insulting prank on you sparked an idea in your head. But it’s best to save that for next year, right?

You guess, with Park Jisung by your side, you wouldn’t mind waiting another year to see what other Halloween pranks he has in store for you.

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barleyo · 8 months ago

Note

*licks teeth and pins u against the wall* so uh...how bout one of those big bro leon fics, *I say with a glint in my eyes*

Purist.

Big Bro! Leon X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: *quivers and covers chest nervously* w-w-well, i-i guess i could write a— a little something... *eyes shift awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with a gulp* uhm... here. i, uh, i hope you enjoy... (some of the dialogue is inspired by the 2007 movie teeth :3)

Tags: incest (brother-sister)/(daddy-daughter mentioned), coercion, dub-con, religious themes, allusion to p in v/a /no real penetration mentioned, fingering (anal and vaginal f receiving), brief mentions of previous sexual assault/abuse

Wordcount: 2.1k

You spent the entirety of your mid to late teen years obsessed with God. With purity. With salvation. Your parents dragging you and your brother, Leon, to church must've eventually struck a cord with you. Ever since the youth pastor chewed up that bubblegum and offered it around to everyone, making the point that nobody wanted a tainted 'treat,' the idea of staying untouched seemed to just click into place for you. Your body was a sacred thing, not to be touched or looked at lustfully by any man.

Complete abstinence is easier than perfect moderation, as the great St. Augustine said. Why not swear yourself to chastity? A bond of complete celibacy, of purity, promised by you to your Lord.

Unfortunately, your big brother didn't seem to feel the same way.

Leon was your exact opposite, in the way that he couldn't spend a night alone. While you would sit in your room, reading or studying like a proper girl, the wanton sound of a random female companion of his would rip through the paper thin walls of your parent's house. Every night, or what felt like it, he would bring home a 'date,' as you called them, though, he would sooner call them 'easy sluts.'

You weren't easy. Leon liked that about you. Every crude joke he made at your expense, wether at the dinner table or in the brief expanse of the hallway near your rooms, you shut down immediately. You were too maidenly for your own good, and unafraid to show it. Oh, he really liked it. Not like those other whores he'd snatch up on the way home, were you? His boyish, smug grins did nothing to bring you, his darling little sister, to your knees in the way it did other women your age.

Maybe that was why he did it— bringing those girls over. He knew good and well you could hear them— hear him— through the thin walls. He could tell based on the way you looked at him with scornful eyes the morning after as he accompanied the umpteenth girl of his to the front door, tactfully kicking her out with the promise of calling her back. Of course, he did no such thing, the womanizer that he was. He'd wink at you. Taunting you.

Maybe he did all of this to tempt you, to show you what you were missing out on. Maybe he was sending you a message. An offer? No. The more likely option was that he just liked to tease you. Yes, that seemed more 'brotherly.'

It was another night. Another sleepless night of being tormented by the lewd sounds coming from your older brother's room. You could practically hear the individual squeak of every spring in his old mattress as he used whatever girl he had with him now. You heard her muffled voice. Poor girl must've had her face pushed into the pillow. Maybe she was ugly. Leon always let the pretty ones look at him while he sexed them up— you could tell because you heard their voices much clearer in the night.

It was nearly melodic. Hearing almost every movement between the two. You could piece it together in your mind, and before you knew it, you had your eyes tightly shut, imagining the scene.

You pictured it in more detail than you thought the Lord would be appreciative of. You saw your brother's toned back with his tapered waist, his taut muscles clenching and coated in a slick sheen of sweat as he worked his hips against a faceless girl's heat. It was a dance. You seemed to imagine it more passionate than it sounded. Where the girl next door was certainly getting pounded, your imaginary girl was being treated tender and soft. Gentle strokes accompanied by a firm grasp.

You were yet again reminded the next day of how much different your real brother was to the version of him your mind conjured up the previous night. Not nearly as sweet, that was for sure.

You pushed into his room, not bothering to give him the dignity of a knock. That was another thing he liked about you. For how meek and God-fearing you seemed to be, you could be a real bitch to your dear ol' brother. He found it sort of funny, the juxtaposition between how you really were and how his lackadaisical manner made you act.

"We need to talk about your girlfriends," you said, slamming his door behind you. The breeze caused by the door made a few of his classless pin-up girl posters swish upwards, hanging on for their lives against the black walls of his room by the tiny scraps of tape he stuck them with.

"Don't have any," Leon said casually, legs spread and arms over his chest. He tossed a baseball up and down, catching it in his palm as he leaned his head against his headboard.

You huffed and stomped over to his bedside to snatch the baseball. He let you grab it, shooting you an amused grin as you palmed the ball far too big for your hand.

"Well, whatever you want to call them—"

"Let's just call them whores, yeah?"

"I'm not going to call them that," you spat, eyebrows raising into your hairline. "Your 'friends.' How about that? Your 'friends' need to stop coming around. I can't live like this. I can't sleep!"

"Awh, poor thing. Your grade in 'prissy bitch' class must be dropping now. Y'fall asleep during your stick-up-the-ass exam, college girl?" he asked, nose scrunching teasingly as he eyed you. He reveled in how your offended look grew.

"Can you take anything seriously, you ass?" You dropped his baseball to the floor and kicked it under his bed, to which he mumbled 'bitch' and an additional explicative or another under his breath. "Last night was ridiculous. I didn't get a wink of sleep. These walls aren't nearly as thick as you act like they are."

"Oh, you heard that? What, it turn you on or something?"

You stilled, arms rising back to cover your chest defensively. It didn't turn you on, per se, but it did something, that was for damn sure. You weren't about to confess that to Leon, though. Not if you had a choice.

"No, it did not 'turn me on,' Leon. Do you hear yourself when you speak, or does everything come out on instinct?"

"Instinct. So, Virgin Mary, what're you harassing me about now? You don't enjoy the sweet, sweet sound of random chicks getting smashed?"

He sat up straight, back flush to his headboard now as he turned to face you.

You got a good look at his features. Looked a lot like your dad. Score! Perfect excuse, suddenly coming to mind.

"No, I don't. I'm sure daddy doesn't appreciate it either," you said, trying to guard yourself with the veil of your father.

Leon snorted. "Well, I guess daddy dearest will just have to come tell me himself then, won't he? Seems like he's too drunk nowadays to hear anything," he said, voice nearing bitter territory.

"Don't talk about dad like that," your voice taking on a more protective edge in your father's defense. "He's going through a rough time. He doesn't need your shit."

"And I don't need yours. This whole abstinence thing has your horse pretty high, you know." Leon shifted his legs over the side of his bed, elbows resting on his knees. Most of the humor he had left in his voice had drained out, being replaced with a seriousness. "You aren't slick."

You narrowed your eyes at him, eyebrows pinching together. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, sis," he said, mocking tone lacing the nickname, "we both know who you're saving yourself for, and I've been real patient up until now. I'm not gonna wait forever."

You wanted to repeat yourself, you wanted to ask just what the hell he meant by that, but he interrupted your train of thought.

"You think I couldn't hear you listening like a little pervert? Hell, even before I started bringing girls home. I couldn't jerk off without seeing you peeking through the crack in my door. Like I said, you aren't slick. You act like you're all hard and saintly, but you're just a nasty pervert, aren't you?"

So many thoughts ran through your head. So many emotions. Embarrassment, for one, at the fact that he knew of your dirty secrets regarding him. Anger at how casually he was airing this information. A strange warmth, as well, at how he teased you. You should've been screaming at him, at twisting this around on him, but you couldn't.

"I'm sorry," you managed to squeak out, eyes dropping to your feet in shame.

Leon just hummed in response, clearly not in dire need of an apology. In fact, he looked rather unfazed, like it was no problem for him at all.

"If you want to apologize, you can bring your little ass over here. Sit down, pervert."

"I don't know why you're acting so fidgety about this. You give it up to dad all the time, what's so different about me?"

Fuck. Leon really knew everything about you. This entire night was like having someone read your diary out loud to you, hearing every 'secret' you thought you had kept so well.

"Shut up," you said, eyes clenched shut tightly as Leon curled his fingers up against your g-spot again. You bit back the urge to whine or moan. With how much he was teasing you, you didn't feel that he deserved the satisfaction.

"Wonder what everyone would think. Daddy's good girl is good for more than she lets on, huh? Bet everyone already knows. There's no way a girl like you hasn't been taken before. Ain't a man on earth who wouldn't try it, y'know?"

You hated how that made you tighten around his fingers. Was that really what made you cum? Your brother calling you rapeable? The entire situation was so far out of your wildest imagination. A far cry from what the other girls he entertained had experienced, you were sure of that.

Or, maybe, the way that he let your face upwards was what did it for you. Last you remembered, the rule was pretty girls faced up, ugly girls got flipped. Guess that counts for something.

"I'm real fascinated by your pussy," Leon said after a few moments of silence. He was sitting between your legs, cock sprung free from his boxers as he kept his fingers plugged into your hole. He watched as your hole continued to kick and squeeze over his two digits.

"I can tell. You won't stop lookin' at it," you mumbled, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your palms.

"Not what I meant. Just meant it's pretty."

You don't know why you blushed at such a meaningless, near-objectifying compliment. A small part of you said that if Leon had seen so many in his life, and he said yours was pretty, then surely that meant something. You felt honored, in a weird way.

"Bet it'll be even tighter around my cock."

"What? No, no, we can't do that, Leon," you said quickly, pulling away from his finger with a squelch. You tried to pull your panties up, but he stopped you.

"Who says?"

You thought about it. You wanted it, sure. Really bad, actually. So, who says? Who said that you couldn't take a brief pause from chastity? You quickly told yourself what you said each time your father got a little too drunk a little too late a night and missed your mother a little too much.

"Just be gentle," you said, exactly how you would on the nights where you looked a little too much like your mother.

"Don't worry."

You expected to feel his cock swab against your folds. You expected to feel the eerily familiar pinch and stretch of being penetrated, but it didn't come. Your walls clenched almost eagerly around nothing.

Instead, your eyes widened in shock at the feeling of a finger trailing around your asshole. Leon aimed his head forward and spat a fat glob onto your rim, rubbing it around to coat your hole.

"Wait— Leon! Don't do that," you whined, feeling him finger sink in and stretch the ring of muscle.

"You aren't a true-virgin anywhere else, sis. I wanna pop this cherry before someone gets to it before I do."

God, he was cruel. What was crueler was the way he prodded another finger into your hole like it was nothing. At least he had the awareness to spit again, coating the middles of his fingers in an attempt to ease the pain in your end. It worked, as well as spit could.

His head dipped down and his tongue latched to your clit, giving it a few purposeful sucks before pressing a kiss to it too, piercing eyes looking at you from between your thighs.

"Besides, anal doesn't really count, right? Isn't that what all you pure-not-so-pure girls say?"

#cw incest #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #brother! Leon Kennedy #brother x sister #resident evil x you #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy smut

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cherimoyatea · 6 months ago

Text

❧ Rafayel - Midnights

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: Rafayel has a hard decision to make as the night fades into dawn. Word Count: 1.188K Tags: sea of golden sand, abysswalker rafayel, female reader:princess MC, smut, angst, angst, angst, mentioning of his lore MDNI: suggestive content in the first half⚠️ Side Notes: Am I writing Abysswalker smut and blushing on mildly suggestive content? Maybe. It's not like I don't have the wildest thoughts in the back of my head, but it seems like I can't overcome my comfort zone and write them out. So, I'm taking a more poetic route this time, cowardly leaving the spicy part to your imagination until I feel ready to paint the full picture... 👀💦 Please don't hate me.

{Edit: I'm still trying to find that three-panel comic that inspired me to set the scene in the first half, so if anyone knows the creator, please let me know so I can link them here. Thank you so much!}

''Not yet, your Highness...'' Rafayel purrs softly into your ear as you shift beneath him, making the rough sheets rustle as you move. His warm breath on your skin sends a magnitude of sparks through your body—crying for relief as his slick tongue glides out, trailing down your sensitive neck.

Marking it with burning kisses.

You are the Princess of Philos, the heiress of a kingdom. Garbed in the finest robes, your hair adorned with fragrant petals. You live a prestigious life in your palace, which lacks nothing.

And yet you are here. With him.

Sharing a simple furnished room in a low-priced hotel with the lavender-haired Lemurian. Until dawn breaks.

Night after night, you escape the comfort of your luxurious bedchamber to find shelter in a run-down area of the town. Willingly, you follow him through dark alleys and narrow sidewalks to avoid curious eyes. Placing your trust in him as he guides you carefully through the dimly lit streets until you arrive at your destination for a moment of intimacy.

Nobody bats an eye if a couple shows up at a place like this late after midnight and disappears before sunrise.

''Rafayel...'' You call out his name yearningly, ignoring the drunken voices and chants, coming faintly from the streets as you lay on the hard mattress of the wooden bed.

His weight pressing against your body only heightens your longing while you nervously fumble with the straps of his purple-black armor to unbuckle them. You have been craving him all day, and there is no way you're willing to wait any longer.

''I wish to have you! Now! I need—ah!''

A gasp escapes your lips as Rafayel suddenly grabs your wrist, stopping you from opening the straps and revealing his toned skin to you.

He pins it next to your head, amused by the persistence in your voice. ''So eager tonight, are we Princess?'' Your beloved whispers teasingly before pulling away from the crook of your neck to gaze at your blushed face.

''And so bold!'' He adds with a smug grin while his pink-blue eyes almost devour you. ''Did your Highness forget that I don't accept orders from her? This rundown place is not her realm, and I am not her servant.''

You return his gaze and notice the pink hue spreading on the Lemurian's cheeks and ears, his chest slightly heaving. He is clearly as tense as you and equally anticipating what is about to come.

''You don't ask me to beg for it, do you?'' You reply in a shaky voice, trying to calm your quickened breathing as much as you can.

For a brief moment, you contemplate talking back. But given your situation, you fear it would only lead to further restrictions so instead, you choose to give in.

''If that's your wish...''

Trying to read into those sunset eyes, as if all your unspoken wishes were answered by them, you relax your tense body before you hear your voice. Firm yet soft. ''Please, allow me to have you, to taste you... I beg you, don't turn me away like this...''

''Hm?'' Rafayel's eyes go wide in surprise, caught off guard, unprepared for your abrupt change in demeanor. You couldn't be more beautiful to him than in this very moment—lying all vulnerable and disheveled beneath him. Searching, asking for permission with those lovestruck eyes he adores so much.

And now you are begging to drink from his luscious lips, to be claimed by him. How could he ever resist your charm?

''R-Rafayel I...'' Your breath hitches as he suddenly captures your lips in a kiss, giving in to his own desire to answer your craving as his hand releases your wrist and moves to your chest, slowly unraveling the front ribbon of your dress...

...and only the moonlight that falls through the thin, swaying curtains bears witness to two lovers intertwined in the rough rustling sheets...

A pair of glimmering orbs appears in the darkness of the hotel room as Rafayel opens his eyes. He still lies awake, long after you fell asleep—spent from your passionate love-making. You slumber safe and sound in the arms of your beloved, unaware of the grim thoughts occupying his mind at this late hour.

''Your Quintessence... time is running out!''

The Lemurian moves his head in irritation as if trying to shake off the Elders plea that rings in his ears during these moments of silence. He carefully slides his arm from under your sleeping form, anxious about waking you, and sits up in bed.

Leaning against the headrest, he closes his eyes and sighs deeply as the words that doom him spiral down once again. Words like a cursed spell that numbs his body and leaves him without hope:

''You must complete the prophecy. Obtain her heart. Your heart. Awaken the seas, rebuild Lemuria.''

And tonight he will reclaim his heart from you.

Rafayel steadies himself and raises a hand to summon his dagger, gripping its hilt tightly. He then shifts his gaze to you, determined to take back what belongs to him. His glimmering eyes turn a shade darker as he moves the blanket from your upper half, revealing your bare skin.

Beads of sweat run down his temples as he hovers the sharp tip of his dagger over your chest, which he caressed and kissed so passionately only moments ago. His breath comes out in labored gasps as he feels his heart pounding against his ribs, knowing he is about to take yours.

''Mhm... I love you...''

The Lemurian abruptly freezes in his movements and holds his breath as you shift in your sleep, rolling to your side. Your innocent, sleep-drunken murmurs pull him back to his senses, and he quickly moves the dagger away from your sleeping form.

''Love, huh?'' With a swift move the dagger vanishes into thin air and a shaky sigh escapes Rafayel's lips. Once more, he finds himself reminded of something: If he dies, then Lemuria dies with him. But if you die, he loses all meaning to live.

He slumps back onto the mattress beside you, watching you breathe calmly, unaware of the threat that surrounded you just moments ago. You are more than willing to give your heart to him, he's aware of that.

But how will he ever find the strength to claim it from you?

''Not tonight...'' He whispers to himself while nuzzling up to you. Inhaling your flowery scent, taking in the warmth of your body as he grabs the blanket and covers both of you.

In just a few hours, morning will break. And then he will need to wake you up to sneak you back into your bedchamber before anyone notices your absence, while he remains in the desert's ambush. Until he can see you again at midnight.

But for now, you are here, and you are his.

No. Tonight is not the night. Just as the night before wasn't. And the night before last...

And deep down, he knows his days are numbered—his blackened flame will eventually extinguish and fade before he ever lays a finger on his beloved bride.

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! I'm new to your account, but just binged your "I bet on losing dogs" storyline, and I had a question and concept for you? How much is the reader free to interpret? I'm a theater kid, so I like her hobbies. But is there any specific physical traits you're writing for her? I know you mentioned that we were/are chubby, which is cool, but do you imagine any certain features? Because I'm Mexican American with certain features, so I was curious if you had a certain ethnicity set for her besides being half White/Jewish from Bruce being her biological father.

I also had the same question about Tiffany, because I'm currently imagining the Stereotypical All American girl. Kinda got that Disney Channel actress vibe to her. (Physically). I also had this really messed up though of the reader having to spend YEARS trying to keep in touch her mother's culture and such, learning dishes, traditions, going to local festivals by herself, having to learn how to do makeup and hair styles/products that fit her face and hair pattern. No one bothered to help or teach her. But than, suddenly Tiffany starts to steal those "habits", uncaring if they were very personal to the reader. Than everyone in the family suddenly starts to like the Reader's culture and such. (I had this scene in my brain where the Reader walks in on Tiffany is bragging about some music or dish "she" tried out from the Reader's culture, while the family are all happy and curious about it. Even when the Reader tried to introduce it to the family, everyone declined even trying it.)

I see the Reader so "Your Best American Girl" coded by Mitski.

Anyway I just wanted to ramble, bye!

ok so, I'm trying to be as vague as possible bc reader is supposed to be whoever is reading so there's no in depth description or specific height or build (except chubby in the prologue). i feel like i've basically made reader an OC which i hate but personally when I'm reading a fic, I just ignore things if I don't like them or they don't apply to me which is what i suggest yall do!!

the reader's mother is Palestinian/ Venezualan, like my own mom but you can change it if you'd like. it's important to mention that reader does have Bruce's jaw structure and face shape and shares facial features with Damian as well. It's small things like the ears, the roman nose, even the eye shape, point is that every time reader looks in the mirror she can see shadows of Bruce and Damian on her face. it's kinda like the vibe of "like him" by tyler the creator. I'm middle eastern and hispanic so I imagine reader with darker feautures like tan skin, thick brown hair, arched brows and long lashes but it's all up to you!

reader is very confused because while her dad is white, she isn't. she did try to bond with Damian and learn Arabic with him but he shamed her for not knowing and kicked her out his room, literally. she used to be embarrassed of her heritage when she was younger (courtsey of Tiffany calling her a mutt) but as she got older she realized how interesting her culture is.

she wants to learn arabic but has no teachers and it's a pretty hard language to learn if you don't grow up speaking it .she has no sources to help her and most of the time culture and traditions are things you grow up with and are passed down to you from family. her mom used to speak to her in arabic and feed her dates and sandwiches with olive oil and sugar and make her fried plantians so those things are very special to her, they're some of the only details she remembers about her late mother. so yeah reader is very "Your best american girl coded"

You're so on point about Tiffany, she's your classic all American girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, long tanned legs and a set of pearly whites. she's the kind of white girl to act like she cares about other races but is secretly racist. you know what girls im talking about! and that prompt you sent with the food eats so hard, I have a scene mapped out with that in the upcoming chapters. I rambled too girl!!! you really got me thinking tbh but let me stop and actually write the next chapter.

#yandere batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere damian wayne #yandere tim drake #yandere x reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batman x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batboys

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dirtyvulture · 1 year ago

Text

Envy and Venom - Part 2

Heiress!Natasha Romanoff x CEO!Beefy!Fem!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You are the notorious playboy who just inherited one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Your first move? Sleeping with the heiress of your rival company.

Word count: 4911

AN: Didn't think I'd write this, but the opportunity was too good to let pass. :)

Click here for Part 1!

DAY 2

“I can’t believe you,” Tony says, watching as you anxiously like a caged animal. “I mean, I can, because Romanoff is smoking hot, but really? On your first day?”

“I didn’t know who she was!” you snap, your stomach churning in knots. You hadn’t been able to eat breakfast, even ignoring the hot black coffee your secretary Wanda had waiting for you like usual when you arrived to the office.

“Literally the daughter of the guy of our biggest rival,” Tony says, clearly only trying to make you feel worse than you already feel.

“I know who he is!” you bark, well familiar with Alexei Shostakov, the enormous, bearded and beer-bellied Russian who had once been on the board of directors at Envy Industries. Alexei was long gone from your dad’s company by the time you entered the scene, and at that point had formed Black Widow Corporation into a juggernaut. Word on the street was that Alexei used “unconventional methods” to stay ahead of competitors and now you wondered if you had fallen right into one of those traps.

“Why was Romanoff even at the party in the first place?” you ask.

“Why do you think?” Tony scoffs. “Daddy probably sent her to mess with you and no offense…but it worked.”

“We don’t know that,” you defend, although your gut is telling you that Tony is right.

“So, what did you tell her?” Tony asks, kicking his chair back to wobble on its hind legs.

“Nothing!” You sigh, your brain scrambling to remember your interaction with Natasha before you took her up to your suite. “Uh, I mean…I mentioned the contract we have with Tesla. But a bunch of other people probably overhead too, and that’s not exactly a secret anymore.”

“Mhmm, sure. Anything else?” Tony prompts.

“No. No, nothing else,” you say with an edge of uncertainty. “There wasn’t really much time for talking, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know you, you horndog.” He waves at you.

For once, you feel immensely guilty about not being able to control your behavior. This wouldn’t be the first time you had to face the consequences of the people you chose to take to bed with you, but none had been this jarring or dangerous. You feel used, even though you truly hadn’t revealed any company secrets to Natasha. Just the thought that she knew who you were, and wasn’t honest with you about herself, made your whole interaction with her feel slimy and fake. While you also knew it was ridiculous to think that you were in love with someone you just met, even you won’t deny there had been some kind of spark between you two, but perhaps it had all been manufactured.

You genuinely want to see Natasha again, hopefully in more honest circumstances, and not just purely for the physical pleasure of it. You knew she was one of the few women on Earth who truly understood your line of work. She didn’t need to pretend (or even study ahead) like some of the partners you had in the past. She was beautiful and smart and managed to turn you into a stuttering, whipped mess in less than ten minutes. No one else had ever been able to do that, and as humbling as it was, it was also hot as hell.

“What am I supposed to do now?” you ask, pulling at the suffocating collar of your shirt.

“First of all, don’t see her ever again,” Tony responds, and it sounds like he’s telling you you’re not allowed to breathe anymore.

“Fuck,” you grumble, because you know he’s right, but it won’t be that easy to just forget about Natasha.

“Seriously, Y/N,” Tony goes on. “You have a whole company to run now. Let the media say what they want, but promise me that you won’t be caught with that woman ever again.”

“Caught, you say?” you tease, knowing that he would always offer you a way out.

“I know you,” he repeats. “Besides, I heard she has a sister.”

You laugh, the tense mood lightening considerably. “Yeah, sure, I’ll put in a good word for you when I see her again.”

“You’re the best.” Tony stands up to give you a high-five.

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

Natasha hums to herself as she opens her laptop. She plugs in her headphones and boots up the application that is connected to the microphone she slipped into your jacket pocket. Over 12 hours of audio have already been recorded. Just out of curiosity, she scrolls to the first hour.

“Look how wet you are. You’ve been waiting for this all night, sweetheart?”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.”

Natasha feels her core light up with desire as she remembers the previous night with you. It had been a long time since she had been fucked so well and you certainly lived up to the hype. When she closes her eyes, she can still remember how your body had felt against hers, the way your muscles flexed in warning when you were about to finish but were waiting for her permission, the intoxicating taste that coated her tongue and had her (quite literally) demanding more and more from you.

“Hey, sestra.” Yelena walks in without knocking, and Natasha’s eyes snap open, tearing off her headphones and closing the audio application.

“What?” she growls, annoyed by the interruption.

Yelena smirks at her. “How was the party last night?”

“Good.”

Yelena doesn’t look convinced. “Did you see that TMZ article?”

“Anyone who relies on that hack as a legitimate source of information is just setting themselves up for disappointment.”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Yelena states, walking up to Natasha and showing her her phone.

New CEO of Envy Industries Y/N spotted getting cozy with Black Widow Corp. heiress Natasha Romanoff

Below the headline is a grainy photo of her almost sitting on your lap, both of your heads leaned close together.

“What’s your point?” Natasha asks, pushing Yelena’s phone away from her face.

“Did Dad approve of this?”

“What does his approval have to do with anything?” Natasha snaps. “I’m a grown woman, I can do whatever I want with whoever I want–”

“We’re not stupid, Natasha,” Yelena frowns. “And you aren’t either. You aren’t getting mixed up with just anyone, this is the CEO of Envy Industries–”

Natasha waves her hand. “Just stop, Yelena. I know what I’m doing, okay? And I’m the one who’s going to take over the company when Dad steps down, so I need to make sure that we are on top and stay that way.”

Yelena’s expression softens. “Just be careful, sestra. You don’t know what some of these people are capable of.”

“Like Y/N?” Natasha laughs. “She’s just a big rich idiot. I could steal her entire company right from under her nose and she’d just go fill her bed with Victoria’s Secret models and forget it by the next morning.”

“Please be careful, Nat,” Yelena begs. “Do not forget what happened last time–”

“That was in the past. I know better now,” Natasha dismisses, although the hair on the back of her neck rises at the memory. She had been too cocky, too arrogant, and nearly lost her life as a result. But she was certain that wouldn’t happen with you. She had you eating out of the palm of her hand even before the mind-blowing sex. You’d happily hand her the keys to Envy Industries if she promised you five minutes in bed.

“Don’t worry about me,” Natasha gruffs, turning back to her computer. “Close the door on your way out.”

Yelena doesn’t respond and backtracks. Natasha waits until she hears the click of her door to open the files on her flash drive that contains the data stolen from your systems. None of your files are even password-protected. Maybe your company was even more of a joke than she thought.

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

DAY 14

Tesla backs out of contract with Envy Industries, reportedly in talks with Black Widow Corporation for GPUs

DAY 15

Envy Industries (ENVY) stock drops 15%

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) stock up 10%

DAY 18

Tesla hires Black Widow Corporation to produce hardware for upcoming Model 2

DAY 24

Black Widow Corporation announces AI supercomputer project

DAY 30

Black Widow Corporation (BWC) joins the Magnificent Seven stocks, knocking Envy Industries (ENVY) out

“You need to fix this. Now.”

“I’m trying!” you practically sob, staring at the same headline on your computer that your father is looking at.

Your first 30 days as CEO had been an absolute whirlwind–of defeats. First, an intern at Tesla had called you to tell you the deal was off. And then to hear that they were taking up business with Black Widow Corporation was like a sucker punch to the gut. No one at your company could understand how Black Widow suddenly had the technology you’d been working on for months, but a nagging feeling in the back of your head told you that you were the only person who knew the answer.

But you couldn’t be one-hundred-percent sure. After all, you had spent one night with Natasha Romanoff, most of it in bed with her getting your brains fucked out. But she had left even before you woke up, and there was no way to confirm if she had managed to get her hands on the confidential information that your company was built upon.

Whatever had happened, Envy Industries was on a steady decline ever since you had taken over and it was not a good feeling. The stock prices were tanking and now you had lost your spot amongst the prized “Magnificent Seven”–also known as the seven highest-valued companies in the United States. It was embarrassing, shameful, and upsetting. The board of directors were having daily meetings about your leadership qualities and you were worried they would boot you from the position any day now. Your father still had some influence, despite stepping down, but with the way he was speaking to you now, you weren’t sure he was going to defend you anymore.

“I don’t care how Black Widow Corp got the intel. They have it now and we can’t get it back. You need to raise security protocols and if anyone is caught leaking information, they will be publicly humiliated and sued to kingdom come,” your dad rages through the phone.

“Yes, yes, I agree,” you say.

“You need to focus on recovering from this. What’s done is done. But if you let it get worse, there will be severe consequences. For the company, for its future, and for you.”

“Yes. Yes, Dad,” you gulp.

“Stop fucking around and get your shit together,” he says. “You have a reputation that precedes you and thousands of people are depending on you to see them through this. Envy will come back. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you repeat hollowly, not even convinced of your own words.

“Good girl. We’ll talk later.”

“Okay. Bye, Dad.” You hang up and put your phone face-down on your desk, staring once more at the headline. For the first time, you don’t feel sad, you feel angry. You want to lash out at something–someone. Preferably the person or persons who put you in this predicament. You didn’t deserve this. You hadn’t done anything wrong. But one thing was for certain: you weren’t going to mope around and let them continue to take advantage of you.

There’s a heavy knock on your door.

“Hey, Y/N. Ready for lunch?” It’s Tony.

“Sure. Give me a minute.” You whip your burgundy blazer off the back of your chair with more force than necessary; it gets twisted upside-down and something falls out of the pocket. You squat to pick it up. It’s a black, small, flat circular device that blinks red and there’s tiny little ridges in the center to indicate some kind of microphone.

What the hell is this? you think. You look back at your burgundy jacket. It’s the same one you were wearing the day you were made CEO, the night you met Natasha Romanoff. It wasn’t your most worn jacket, making the occasional appearance if you felt it complimented the rest of your outfit, but spending most of its time hanging in the front of your closet.

A disturbing thought enters your head. This little device couldn’t be what you thought it was, right? But you knew tech better than most people. And you knew that Black Widow Corporation had somehow gotten ahold of confidential information that was causing catastrophic damage to your company.

It takes all of five seconds to formulate a plan.

You slip the audio recorder back into your pocket and put your jacket on.

Two could play at this game.

“Hey, Tony. Where are we going for lunch?” you call out, trying to keep your voice flat and clear.

“The steakhouse!” But his voice is muffled through the door.

“The steakhouse? The one on 6th Avenue, right?” you ask.

“Unless you suddenly have a new favorite that’s not on 6th,” he grumbles.

“Nope, that’s fine. Let me go check on something in the lab and I’ll be ready.”

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

“What’s wrong with you? Did they get your order wrong?” Tony asks as you poke at the slab of beef on your plate.

“I’m just not really hungry,” you say. “You know, since our whole company is falling apart and everything.”

“Well, it’s still standing the last time I checked.” You appreciate how straightforward Tony is. Granted, he isn’t under the same kind of pressure as you, but you need someone who can be this cool under pressure in your life. “And I know you can’t be productive on an empty stomach. Should we order those crab legs you like?”

“No more food please,” you mumble, pushing your plate away from you. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Hurry back. Or I’ll order the whole appetizer menu!”

“Okay, whatever.” But you smile as you walk away from the table to the back. You look at your reflection in the gold gilded mirror, noticing the clear stress lines in your forehead, the darkness under your eyes, the way your cheeks are more hollowed in because you aren’t eating your usual 4,000 calories a day.

You rinse your hands in the sink and pat water on your face. You hear the door open behind you and your heart starts pounding faster. Had your plan worked?

“What’s wrong, honey?” Her voice snaps you to attention, velvety and seductive just like how you remember hearing it the first time. You turn to see Natasha Romanoff leaned against the wall, wearing a white blouse ready to burst at its buttons along with black slacks and towering heels. Her hair loosely bounces on her shoulders and her exposed wrists and neck are adorned with more jewelry than you can count.

“You,” you growl, striding over to her in three big steps and glaring down at her. “Are we adding stalker charges to your growing list of crimes now?”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha tilts her head to the side dumbly. “I’m here for lunch, just like you. A coincidence isn’t a crime–”

You pull the little audio device out of your pocket. Natasha’s eyes widen for a second before she quickly turns her expression into one of defiance, but she’s already given away her familiarity. “So this is how you’ve been stealing all of our ideas, huh?” you ask.

“You have no proof that came from me,” she objects.

“I guess not.” You toss the device to the floor and stomp on it so hard with your Gucci loafers that it crumbles with an audible crunch. “And now we’ll never know. But now you’ll have to leave alone for a little bit, right? You have to give us some time to come up with more ideas for you to steal–”

“It’s nothing personal,” Natasha insists. “Business is business, isn’t it?”

“Well, once you put my reputation at risk–” You move one step closer until your chests almost bump. “–My future at risk–” You lower your head until you’re practically breathing on her face. Natasha doesn’t shy away. In fact, you think you see a glint of triumph in her green eyes. “–It becomes very, very personal.”

The tension between you is so thick it’s suffocating. You refuse to break eye contact with Natasha, but you’re not even sure what your next move should be. You know that you should hate this woman, should be calling for her head and outing her to the media for the literal crimes she’s committed, but you also want her. She hadn’t left your mind since the day you met her and knowing that she had been spying on you this whole time was both infuriating and a little arousing.

Natasha suddenly grabs onto the front of your shirt, yanking you closer to her until your lips crash together. You hate that the contact makes you feel relief, and you wonder if part of your recent frustration can be attributed to the fact that all this time you were secretly yearning for the same woman who was responsible for ruining your life.

“Things between us are very, very personal,” Natasha whispers, her hands slipping under your shirt to scratch across your abdomen. The coldness of her skin makes you want to cringe away, but her fingers hook onto your belt to keep you from going too far.

“Did you get jealous listening to all the girls I was fucking?” you ask.

“No,” Natasha says, but her cheeks redden and you know she’s lying. “But none of them could make you moan the way I do.”

“I wished they were you,” you admit, panting against her forehead as she undoes your belt. “Which is a fucked up thing to say given what you’ve been doing to my company.”

“I’m very good at what I do, baby,” Natasha says, pressing another hot kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I’ll make your life hell if you don’t stop fucking with my company,” you growl, but your threat is significantly undermined by the whimper you let out when her fingers trace down the V-line of your hips to your center.

“Would you rather I fuck you over your company?” she asks.

“Shit,” you gasp, unable to focus on her question when two fingers slip into you. You’re embarrassingly soaked for her, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had wet dreams of letting Natasha Romanoff fuck you ever since your first encounter. You fall back against the wall, panting as she pistons her fingers in and out of you. “Someone might walk in,” you warn, suddenly reminded about the forbiddenness of this relationship.

“I locked the door,” Natasha says, using her free hand to tug down the collar of your shirt so she can lick and kiss the skin of your neck. You bite on your lip to muffle your moan, your hands going to hold her hips roughly, pulling her closer to you. Her fingers curl and her thumb presses hard into your clit. You feel yourself clench tightly around her and your knees are ready to buckle. “For the record, I did miss you too.”

“What took you so long?” You have no idea how you’re able to hold a conversation with Natasha Romanoff while she fucks you, but here you are. Your hands wander towards her ass, cupping her solidly and almost lifting her off the floor.

“I had to wait,” she answers simply, her thumb flicking against your clit and your stomach burns with the stimulation. The slick noises of her fingers sliding into you is downright filthy and you rock your hips forward to urge her to move faster.

“What did you…have to wait…for?” you pant. “Your stocks to…overtake…mine?”

“Sure, baby,” Natasha says, nibbling at your collarbone and marking you with a dark hickey. You still have enough consciousness to notice the way she dodges your question. “You want to cum for me?” she asks, pistoning her hand faster.

“Yes, yes, please,” you beg, already on the verge of finishing. You adjust the angle of your hips so she can reach deeper, her fingers brushing past the sensitive ridges that make you see stars with every touch.

“Wait until I say,” she demands and you whine at her dominance. But you’re in no position to negotiate, so you keep your back pressed against the wall, desperately fighting the tidal wave of arousal threatening to crash down.

“Nat,” you say, your fingers digging hard into her ass, “Please let me–”

“Wait,” she repeats, sounding both annoyed and aroused. She pumps into you harder and faster, until you’re quivering and don’t think you can physically hold back anymore–

“Babe–”

“Cum for me.”

You feel like your body is tearing apart as you explode over her hand, arching your back off the wall, pressing your heaving chest into Natasha’s, heart pounding like you’ve just sprinted through a marathon. Natasha’s thrusts slow as you ride out your orgasm, and as you slump against the wall, she pulls her fingers out and, sticking them into her mouth to suck off your juices. You watch her hungrily, still dizzy from the rush of endorphins.

“My turn,” you say, hooking your arms under her thighs and her arms loop around your neck. You pick her up effortlessly and shuffle with her into the handicapped stall. This time, Natasha’s back is pinned to the wall as you crash your lips into hers, reigniting the heat between your legs. But you’ve already got your release and you are more than eager to return the favor.

You pull down her pants and panties, mouth watering at the sight of her glistening center. You crouch down to pick her up again, this time letting her thighs rest on your shoulders so when you stand up, her pussy is perfectly in line with your mouth. Natasha’s hands tangle tightly in your hair as she draws your head towards her center, her calves locking across the back of your neck.

Without needing any more prompting, you pull forward to taste her. Her moans are music to your ears as you lap at her dripping heat, your tongue pressing deeper in search of more. All you can smell is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can think about is her. Natasha is sinful heaven to you and for a few seconds, you let yourself completely forget about how she’s ruining your life.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door.

“Hello? Why is this locked?” someone’s voice on the other side says.

You reach up with your right hand and cover Natasha’s mouth. She bites into the side of your hand and you hiss at the pain.

“Go get one of the staff.”

“You better finish soon,” you hum, nipping at the insides of her thighs while she squirms on your shoulders. “Or the whole world is going to hear me eating you out in here.”

“They should,” Natasha pants, gripping almost painfully at the back of your head, trying to force you back between her legs. “They need to know that you’re all mine, baby.”

You want to tell her that you don’t belong to anyone, and certainly not her of all people, but the protests die in your throat as she squeezes her thighs around your head. You truly are some kind of servant to Natasha Romanoff. Your tongue runs up and down her slit, poking at her throbbing clit as she bucks forward against your face.

“Fuck, take me already,” she whines.

“So impatient,” you tease.

“Less talking, more fucking,” she demands.

“Same to you.” You shove your fingers into her mouth to quiet her, and she sucks on them in a way that you try to mirror against her pussy. Wrapping your lips around her clit and thrusting your tongue into her until she’s a puddle in your arms.

“...I don’t know why the door is locked. Let me speak to the manager to get the key.”

Natasha’s whimpers are muted so you have to gauge her reaction by the rest of her body. The way she grips onto your hair like it’s some kind of lifeline. Her walls milk your tongue desperately, slick spilling onto your chin. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to get enough of this woman.

The door clicks open just as Natasha finally comes undone. Your fingers muffle her moans as you quickly lick her clean, wishing you had time to bring her to a second orgasm, but the heels on the floor indicate the two of you are no longer alone. You slowly lower Natasha to the floor, suddenly feeling the burn in your shoulders as you finally relieve yourself of her weight.

“Call me next time you want to fuck someone,” Natasha pulls you in for one final kiss and slips something into your pocket. It’s her business card.

“We’ll see,” you say, still not exactly sure of this arrangement, but not having the time to hang around and discuss. You leave the stall first, washing off at the sink and slinking out.

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

Natasha waits until you’ve left the bathroom to adjust herself in the mirror. She reapplies another layer of lipstick, smoothing down her blouse and tucking it back into her pants. She struts out of the restaurant, her body tingling in the aftermath of her sexcapade in the bathroom with you.

She steps into the alley adjacent to the restaurant and stands by the overflowing dumpster. She takes your wallet out of her pocket, unfolding it and laughing at the photo on your driver’s license. It was almost disappointing how easy you were. You weren’t cut out to lead a powerful company like Envy Industries. While you might have had the intellect, you clearly could not handle confrontation and even the idea of failure.

Natasha almost feels bad for you, but not bad enough to stop.

She empties the cash from your wallet, the several crisp hundred dollar bills fluttering to the ground. Maybe they’ll make some lucky homeless person’s day. Natasha pockets your heavy metal credit cards, despite having no intention but to use them as paperweights for her office. Then she finds what she’s really after: the solid black card that’s your apartment key.

Natasha discards your wallet into the dumpster and walks out to the street to be picked up by her driver.

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

You return to the table, smoothing back your hair and pulling at the newly-formed wrinkles in your shirt. You barely remember to button your shirt back up to your throat to hide the collar of hickeys Natasha left to remember her by.

“You were in there a while,” Tony comments. “You need some Pepto?”

“No, I’m fine.” You sit down, staring at your cold steak while you think. “Can we go now? I have some stuff I need to do.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony calls for the waitress and the check. You slip your phone out to view the location of the tracking device you (literally) implanted into Natasha.

It was a tiny, tiny device, probably about the size of a grain of rice. You could barely feel its weight when you have it balanced on the tip of your finger.

“This GPS will provide an accurate location down to a meter,” Dr. Pym explains. “Designed and manufactured right here at Envy Industries, so you can rest assured this is the highest quality product you’ll find on the market.”

“Don’t mention this to my dad, will you?” you request, placing the little tracker back in its foam-padded case.

“Of course,” Dr. Pym says. “I answer to you and only you now.”

“Good.”

You weren’t a hundred-percent sure how successful you’d be, but you had tried your best to hold the GPS on your fingertip before sticking your fingers in Natasha’s mouth. Her natural reaction would be to suck and swallow, and you were hoping that the rice-sized GPS would easily find its way down her esophagus into her.

There was no way she would know about it (or even be able to taste it) in the heat of the moment, and after a few days, it would pass through and the evidence wouldn’t be in her system anymore. You didn’t need more than a few days to track her location and habits.

With a sigh of relief, you see the red dot on the map indicating that she’s still waiting by the street side of the restaurant, probably for her driver. You can’t help but chuckle to yourself, wondering what Natasha would say when she realizes you’re willing to play just as dirty as her.

The waitress boxes up your steak and hands it to you in a paper bag. You and Tony leave through the back entrance to the cramped parking lot and you wait until you’ve climbed into his Aston Martin to say, “Are you still in touch with that…uh…Buck guy?”

Tony is quiet for a moment. “Oh, you mean Bucky? Yeah, I see him from time to time. Why?”

You’ve never made a request like this before in your life, and you know the moment you do, it’s going to change everything. You take a deep breath, fighting the anxiety in your chest.

“I need him to get me a gun.”

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AN: Click here for Part 3!

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