#she haunts me and make me draw her again and again i tell you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

malt-rants-and-stuff · 2 days ago

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HEHEHE SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT<333 LOVED THESE NOTES SO MUCH I JUST KEEP REREADING THEM AND GIGGLING

I have some note of my own to share!! which is why this response took a bit (sorry about the dark screenshots I'm writing this in the dark at 3 am)

first off, yes I indeed reached into your mind to channel the vibes I put into this fic.

no fr though this was such a fun fic to write from my perspective as someone who has moved about 10-ish times in my life and who will surely move again. I dug into my own memories of moving out of the places I lived the longest just for this. that whole first section was inspired by the time I moved from living in my grandparents big house with tons of cousins and family, to suddenly being basically alone with my mom who was barely home. tashiro really dragged out those feelings I had and made them his own lol.

haha. yeah. to add onto this: there was a version of the draft with hanzawa haunting the narrative like this in like half the scenes. little tid-bits and mentions of his activities. but in the end that concept didn't stick bc I wanted the main focus to be on shirashiro

i wrote this while hanging out with a friend and she said they sounded quote "really fucking married" so it's nice to see that wasn't just her saying things lmao

this whole section was a fun one. the scrunchie is a bit I added after a very heated debate with myself over whether I wanted longer haired tashiro or if I wanted to have a scene of them cutting his hair. as you could probably tell I chose the longer hair

the gag gifts are in tashiro's room. while they didn't decorate much of the main sections of the apartment, their rooms are basically full of all the stuff from their old houses. he keeps the pots on his window sill and later down the line adopts some lovely little fake plants from a guy on the side of the road that turn out to be real plants. he lets shirahama name them.

the soup is a silly story. if I'm ever inclined to do a follow up to this I'd write it out fully. basically it's from ogasawara to tashiro, but he gave it to shirahama in a really awkward interaction and then sasaki mocked him for it. not pictured in that part is that miyano brought sasaki to help lift the couch, who brought oga because free labor, who brought soup because hid family said to bring a housewarming gift and he thought 'soup is warm'. some other shenanigans occur including hanzawa that we wont get into. its a fun time.

and on another personal note, the soup is inspired by my first meal in my current apartment. ive posted about it before, but my current move was an absolute disaster of legal bullshit and ridiculous time crunches that almost left me homeless. and during that time, there wasn't really a chance to think about food. it was a mad dash to move apartments in 12 hours that by some miracle worked out. so when I finally had the chance to breathe, I realized I A: had no food and B: was too tired to go get some. thankfully, my aunt stopped by during the chaos and left some surprise soup for me, and i warmed it up and ate it out of a pot with a ladle bc I couldn't find bowls or spoons. it was vegan soup and it tasted like freedom

thank you for drawing my vision and adding to it. this is so wonderful... fun fact: the headband is tashiro's. there's a deleted scene of him taking it and giving that explanation and some other things happened but it didn't feel right so it didn't make the cut. that face mask is so fun tho I love it

[rubbing my hands together] muahahaha yessss!!! the implications!!!!!

my exact feelings writing that scene

hilarious that you spotted that, it was in fact a sunnnfish reference! it actually said sunfish before but it felt too on the nose lol

this bit haunted me for a while because I couldn't figure out an animal that fully captured my vision of him. then I visited a museum and saw a hare and went "oh shit. shirahama."

Yeagh.....

i know what I wrote and it was on purpose but also in my heart they are always seated at a circular table that wobbles every time one of them leans on it and they take turns standing dramatically from it and watching it teeter

yeahhh he's grown so much!!! he's older and not much wiser and he still!! plays!!! ping pong!!!!!

another deleted scene included them playing a game that they got married in for tax (loot) benefits but I sadly let it go because it was focused around a plot line I abandoned for atmosphere purposes

here lies sunny, died from a lethal dosage of shirashiro jajsjsj

no but seriously this part was especially fun to write. I want to note in that second to last paragraph that the way he did that was on purpose very odd. he could've used just his hand to clean it off, or a paper towel, or just told shirahama and had him wash it off himself. but he didn't. it was also a very sudden full body turn. why did he do all that <-knows why

and the ponytail tashiro drawing!!!! cups him in my palms

if there were ever a b-side to this from shirahama's pov, it would mostly just be composed of a million "oh. oh." moments on loop

this whole project was a lot of fun for me mostly just from an editing standpoint. i had so much time to change and adjust scenes to make them work how i wanted. and all that left me with tons of deleted scenes and ideas i can reuse later which is awesome. thank you so much for the awesome prompt and lovely notes<333

@sunnfish okay Take Two!!! hello sunny sunnfish you wonderful sea creature! I was your secret santa for the @ssmygiftexchange! so sorry for the delay on this, my scheduled post was taken by the tumblr void and I wasn't home with my laptop to remake this post haha.

Your prompt was shirashiro college roommates au and prev pres, hanzawa, and tashiro hang out!! hope i was able to do this justice, this is officially the longest oneshot ive posted :)

Now with an Ao3 version, i would recommend reading there because Tumblr messed up some of my formatting and I can't fix it right now ^_^

Summary:

Tashiro and Shirahama are college roommates. It's a relatively peaceful life.

A non-linear story written for the sasamiya & hirakagi winter gift exchange!

As it turns out, moving in with a guy that you’ve known for almost half your life is pretty unremarkable.

Maybe it has something to do with being too familiar with each other. There have been too many sleepovers for the sound of snores to phase him, too many gym classes for the sight of skin to fluster him, too much time for anything to feel awkward between them. And yet…

And yet.

Packing your whole life into boxes is pretty hard, as it turns out. Looking around his room now it seems hard to imagine how it’ll feel to see the whole place emptied out. Cleared of every reminder of himself.

Tashiro tries not to think about it so hard as he turns back towards the closet. He’s never felt the need to go through everything he had stuffed in there until now, remnants of the past mixing with comforts of the present.

He reaches out to grab one of the hangers, pulling it free. His ping-pong jacket, he thinks despairingly, is slowly becoming small on him. His name spelled across the back in white lettering brings him back to when he first noticed. The growth spurts he’s been having refuse to slow even for a moment, and though he likes that some days, it mainly makes him face annoying things like this.

If he leaves the jacket, it will probably be packed up and put away somewhere to be forgotten. He can picture it now, sitting in a box stuffed away as it slowly fades from his memory. It makes him feel sort of heavy. But, if he takes it with him, he’s not sure it would be much better in the long run. Just holding it in his hands reminds him of how much time has passed. Of how fast it will keep passing.

He stands there, gears turning haphazardly in his mind, as he tries to breathe it all in.

Then, a knock.

His eyes dart to his doorway in surprise– knowing none of his family was home right now– only to remember that he’d invited the others to help him out.

Shirahama stands in front of him, knuckles resting against the already ajar door. His slightly bored face and tellingly awkward posture show that he hadn’t expected to be the first to arrive.

“Is your doorbell broken?” He asks as his socked feet pad their way into the room. “I tried using it, for once, but from that look I guess you didn’t hear.”

Tashiro finds himself a little amused by this, as he knows for a fact Shirahama has his own key. Perks of coming over to play games most weekends out of the year. He remembers them making jokes about going into each other's fridges while no one was home when they traded keys.

“Nah, guess I was just distracted,” He says with a casual shrug, placing the jacket back in the closet.

Shirahama gives him a questioning look. “I thought you were moving out, not back in.” His friend jokes as he passes Tashiro, grabbing a couple of shirts from the closet alongside the jacket.

He feels his eyebrow twitch in a way that reminds him a little of Hanzawa; and what a scary thought that is.

“I’m feeling indecisive.” He says, his mouth twisting to match how the word makes him feel. All twisted up and confused.

Shirahama turns to the side to face him, having stacked more clothes into his arms that look to be on the verge of falling to the floor. “About what? If you should take your whole house with you?”

That jacket. If I should re-dye my hair. Growing up. You. The future.

“What if we paint all the walls yellow?” He says instead of the hundreds of things his racing mind pushes forward.

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Shirahama responds resolutely, his eyes showing no room for argument. Not that Tashiro will let that stop him.

“Or maybe green? Something bright.” He continues on, stepping away from his thoughts to grab the jacket out of the teetering pile and place it to the side. “Actually, scratch that, blue would be great too.”

Shirahama gives him a withering look that has no effect on his enthusiasm. Now that he’s thinking about it, the fact that he isn’t going to make these kinds of decisions on his own anymore is pretty fun. He’ll have a roommate, a friend to work through his troubles with. The thought makes him feel lighter.

“Hey, d’you still want this?” Shirahama asks some time later, long after Kuresawa and Miyano have come and gone. Tashiro looks up from the stack of boxes he’d just finished labeling.

“Oh, yeah I almost forgot!” He says as he takes his jacket, tying it around his waist for safekeeping. He really hopes he didn’t overestimate how much closet space he has.

It’s only a few hours after the final box has been unloaded and the moving van is hauled off when Tashiro makes a chilling discovery.

“Dude, we have no food.” He says, eyes staring at the bleak emptiness of their new fridge.

“Yup,” Shirahama responds as he walks up beside him, handing Tashiro a scrunchie in a sort of placating manner.

Tashiro’s shoulders droop with the weight of his exhaustion. Moving was one of the most tiring things he’s ever done, and coming from him that’s saying something.

Turning away from the depressing artificial fridge lighting, Tashiro turns toward the kitchen counter behind him and grabs his keys. As wrecked as he might feel, the growls of his stomach refuse to be ignored. “I’ll go buy something quick,” He says.

“Ah- wait, I have an idea,” Shirahama says suddenly. Back straightening, he moves away from the fridge of doom over to a bag of housewarming gifts the others had left. It was mostly a small array of gag gifts, little plant pots shaped like ping pong balls and a lampshade shaped like a pudding cup, but in a small container alongside the rest was something else. A saving grace for the hungry:

A tub of butter.

Tashiro looks at it in confusion, asking if his friend was really that hungry.

Shirahama smirks, “With food, no container is ever as it seems.”

He opens the tub’s lid, revealing its contents. Inside is not butter, but a large frozen serving of chicken soup. Tashiro feels his jaw drop as he gasps in disbelief.

Quickly shaking himself of his shock, Tashiro grins brightly. He takes the soup and stuffs it into the microwave, but Shirahama stops him from starting the timer.

“Y’know it would taste better if you put it in a pot instead.” Shirahama says, his hand gently clasped around Tashiro’s wrist in a way that he chooses not to internalize. His fingers are a little cold.

“But it’s already cooked.”

“So? You can still warm it up in the pot. Plus it’ll make it taste closer to how it’s supposed to.” Shirahama retorts, opening the microwave and placing the tub on the counter as he goes to try and find a pot in the sea of boxes.

Tashiro stays behind as he thinks. He hadn’t ever had a reason to go so far out of his way to warm up food before. He feels himself smile a bit, the first change he’ll have to get used to in this new life.

As it turns out, keeping a relatively small apartment clean is a little difficult when you’re living on your own as two messy 18 year olds.

They tried the whole chore chart thing at first, Shirahama said he used to have one at his parent’s house and it worked fine. But, well, it’s a little different when it’s just them.

The dishes are stood in a precarious stack, plates and glasses towering in ways gravity should never allow. Tashiro faces his task with a body radiating reluctance.

He’s been busy the entire week. Classes and work keep him out of the house, and even when he is home he prefers to spend time relaxing or hanging out with Shirahama. He had forgotten about his chore, and now it’s become a problem.

Carefully reaching towards the tower, he grabs the cups first and goes for the sponge right as Shirahama walks out from his room.

He has his hair held back by a headband, because my bangs are a nightmare right now, he’d explained the other day.

He walks towards the kitchen and looks at Tashiro, who has begun to work through the dishes.

“…Need any help?” He asks as he reaches toward the kitchen cabinet, pulling out the chips he’d come for.

“Oh, no I’m good,” Tashiro responds, though the overwhelmed look in his eyes doesn’t match his words.

Hm. Shirahama puts his chips down on the counter, turning towards the sink and stepping up beside his friend. “I’ll dry and you wash, okay?” He says with a smile.

Tashiro blinks at him for a moment, lips parted in an ‘o’, before he nods and sends back a smile of his own.

They make it through everything eventually, though not without some effort and accidental water sprays. They decide afterwards to just do the dishes together, just to save them time.

There's this strange sensation that comes for him one day. The apartment is dark, the steady hum of the aircon welcoming him home, and immediately something feels amiss.

Tashiro kicks off his shoes, only to turn back around and place them carefully on the shoe rack. He always forgets that it’s something he should worry about now. Keeping his home in order was never really a big deal before, it was usually only him spending time there anyways.

Passing through the short hallway, his eyes catch on a small black and red container. He looks around suspiciously, but finds no sign of Shirahama. Crossing the creaky floorboards, he inspects the tupperware and finds a green sticky note pressed onto the lid.

Went to a mixer.

Put this in a pot and try eating real food for once

Tashiro blinks away his shock. His eyes trace over the words on the note. Again, then again.

Thump

His hands warm the plastic as he goes to hold it, and a smile breaks out across his face. He’ll have to say thanks later.

Placing his food back onto the counter, he turns to go change. He feels anticipation swirl around inside of him, and even without tasting the soup, Tashiro feels warm.

Tashiro finds out in the second month of living with his best friend that they’re maybe not the best at making their place livable.

“How have you guys been living like this?” Miyano asks, part judging and part concerned. They’re standing in the living room, which consists of a couch, a tv, and a shelf balanced on two boxes that they use as a coffee table. The tv sits on the floor with a console, video game cases stacked beside it.

It’s not like they haven’t talked about decorating. They joked about it before moving, and made plans about what they wanted to do. The plans just… didn’t end up happening.

At some point between the exhausting move-in and the rush of classes starting up, decorating didn’t feel like that urgent of a thing.

But now classes have been in session for a while, and they still haven’t bothered with it.

The click of Kuresawa’s camera bounces off the empty walls. “A total bachelor pad,” he says, sounding just to the left of impressed. “My girlfriend was wondering what it looks like when two college guys live together.”

Tashiro groans at that, knowing that another classing girlfriend ramble is on its way.

“We live just fine,” Shirahama says, and as if on cue the boxes fold into themselves, sending the shelf clattering to the floor. Right.

They decide to go furniture shopping, just to make sure that they don’t have to deal with any more Looks from Miyano or paparazzi from Kuresawa.

Tashiro suppresses a laugh, pointing towards a table with odd looking fish for legs, “We need that.” Shirahama laughs along with him, but shakes his head.

“We have a budget, we’re only getting what we absolutely need.” He reminds Tashiro. His eyes turn towards a yellow and white coffee table that is practically calling for him. He turns away.

Tashiro salutes him, and doesn’t retaliate when Shirahama gives him a playful shove in response. He turns around and walks towards a different part of the store, twisting strands of his hair between his fingers as he goes. He really needs to touch up his roots.

Spotting something on a shelf, he picks it up. It’s a decorative statue, a silver painted hare taking a nap. He smirks and turns around, walking back to Shirahama. “Hey, look, I found you…” he starts to say before trailing off, eyes focusing on Shirahama’s side profile.

His eyes look focused in the way they always do when he’s overthinking something simple. His brows are pinched and his thumb is pressed flat on the side of his lip. Tashiro breathes in the expression, and decides he can show him later.

Laughter reverberates through the restaurant, one table in particular shining with rays of excitement and teasing.

“No, but seriously, how many more piercings can you get?” Tashiro questions dramatically, standing from his seat to stretch across the table and investigate. Hanzawa only laughs behind his hands and turns his head, showing off another new hole in his ear.

“If you ask that every time you’ll keep giving yourself a headache,” says the eldest one at the table, the previous ping pong president in all his red haired glory smirks mischievously and pats Tashiro’s back.

Crossing his arms and dropping back into his seat, Tashiro tries to keep up an air of frustration. It lasts about a second before he breaks out into a smile of his own.

These little meet-ups are a lot of fun for him. It’s not every day that all three of them are in one place. Especially not with their current schedules. It’s a nice break from the busy life he’s been settling into.

He feels his heart warm as he sits with his friends, ready to bring up his latest win in his college ping pong club, when his phone vibrates. Flipping it over, he sees that Shirahama texted him.

Divorce Soon: hey r you home

I left my jacket and this place is freezing

He pauses to consider. He’s not very far from the apartment, he could run there, grab it, and drop it off pretty quickly. But… he glances up from his phone to the two in front of him. He doesn’t want to leave yet. But… looking back at his phone he sees the spam of crying emoji’s Shirahama has begun sending.

“Hey guys, sorry but my roommate needs me to get him something,” he says with an awkward expression. The conversation pauses as the two process what he said. “Oh sure, you need a ride?” His absolutely genius red haired friend offers, pulling his keys out as he says it.

“Yes!” Tashiro replies as his expression lights up. He tells Shirahama he’s on the way, and they head out towards the parking lot.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Tashiro fiddles with the edge of his shirt. He tries not to move too much, looking back and forth from his hands to Shirahama. His friend has that same look in his eyes that he did back in middle school art class. Focused, determined, trying and failing to keep paint off of his face. Only this time the paint is a bright yellow dye.

They’ve been like this for a while. He hums along to the music playing from his phone. His butt feels a little numb and he has counted and recounted the tiny floor tiles at least a million times, all 173- no, 175 of them. He tries to focus his attention on anything but the gloved hands in his hair.

He carefully reaches over for his phone, switching the playlist to a random one he saw in his recommendations.

It’s not as if he couldn’t survive in silence for a little while. He usually doesn’t have anyone else to do this for him, so silence is kind of a given.

But as he taps the beat into his leg and opens his mouth, no words come out. He lets the silence linger even as Shirahama begins humming the words to a song he remembers coming out in their first year. He thinks about laying on the floor of his bedroom, phone conversations bouncing off his poster-lined walls and music blasting.

He remembers the telltale clicks and clacks from the other end of the call, the curses against ridiculous route mechanics spilling into his ears.

Tashiro feels like this is sort of like those moments, just a little bit more. His legs are longer, his hair can go into a ponytail now, and his world feels so much bigger. His eyes turn towards the boy-technically-man in front of him. His eyes look sharper and his face is more angular.

But, in a lot of ways he feels the same as he always has. The same Shirahama who cried during their graduation, and sat next to him on their first day of middle school. The same Shirahama who bullies him for counting on his fingers, but forgets what comes after 3 when he’s drunk enough.

The same yet different Shirahama. They match in that way, at least. Both the same, but not fully.

“I… think I’m done?” Shirahama says, breaking their steady silence. Tashiro stands to go look in the mirror. He giggles at the sight of his foil-wrapped hair sticking out at odd angles.

Shirahama laughs along with him, and it really isn’t that funny, but they still stand there giggling like idiots. Tashiro pulls at the corner of his shirt again, turning around and raising it up to Shirahama’s face and wiping away some of the dye.

He drops his shirt and turns back to the mirror, looking at the two of them in the reflection. He watches the way Shirahama’s face stays frozen, and how his whole face flushes like it always has. It’s nice to see some things will never change.

#malt rants #malt writes #sunnnfish #shirashiro

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buriedknight · 1 year ago

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our lady of sweet decay

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #sister friede #friede #corvian #ashes of ariandel #my art #firstly it was a drawing dedicated to the painted world and corvians #but for the reasons unknown sister friede just SPAWNED into the art #as she has done for plenty of times before that???#she haunts me and make me draw her again and again i tell you

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mggslover · 29 days ago

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Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

Once, it had offered him comfort, a refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail.

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened. The moan was deeper this time, echoed by a soft, shaky exhale.

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, followed by a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action.

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual.

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity.

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him.

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him.

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable.

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined?

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin.

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest.

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need.

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps.

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before.

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach.

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm.

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one.

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him.

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

As his breath slowed, Spencer lay still, his mind buzzing with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake. His heartbeat, once frantic and wild, slowed to a steady rhythm. The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest.

The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release.

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid

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colormepurplex2 · 9 months ago

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Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag

↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend's Husband ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 18,286 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity

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Jungkook

Jungkook never thought he’d be haunted by such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. A tiny pastel pink line. Singular. Just like all the ones before it. He’s lost count of exactly how many, but it’s been years; every month, the same outcome. A singular pink line telling him he’s failed. He knows that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how he’s starting to feel—like a complete and utter failure.

“We’ll try again next month,” Jiyoon offers, dropping the offending piece of plastic in the bathroom trash before giving Jungkook a tight smile.

“Have you given any more thought to trying IVF again?” Jungkook asks hesitantly, knowing that’s a sore subject. But, dammit, he’s not in the proper headspace right now to think better of it.

Jiyoon glares at him, her pouty pink lips drawing taut. “I told you not to ask me that ever again. Now, get out. I’d like to take a shower.” When Jungkook doesn’t immediately move from his perch on the bathroom counter, she tags on a frustrated, “Please.”

Jungkook hops down, his socked feet swishing over the tiled floor as he retreats into the master bedroom. The door forcefully shuts right on his heels, echoing the hollow ache in the center of his chest. He promised himself that if it didn’t happen this time, he’d just try harder next time.

Yet, there is only so much he can do. Pushing any harder might widen the rift slowly forming between him and his wife. Already, Jiyoon spends more time at work than with him. Her glares of irritation any time he seeks intimacy outside of their strict ovulation schedule are like holes being punched into his resolve.

After nearly two years of trying, he sought medical answers a year ago. Jiyoon was quite cross with him when she found out he went to the doctor, but he needed to know if it was his fault they were having trouble conceiving. The numbers were standard, slightly higher than average even. The utter devastation on Jiyoon’s face, he’ll never be able to forget that day. Because if he isn’t the problem…then that means she is.

It’s his fault. He wasn’t even thinking about that potential. Jiyoon hasn’t been the same since. That’s when the schedule came into play. That’s when she started to pour far more energy into waiting for the perfect moment instead of just enjoying their time together.

Jungkook can see the disappointment, the guilt that eats away at her each time that single pink line reveals itself. He wishes more than anything there was a way to change it, something more he could do. Yet, she refuses to consider the option of IVF, not after the horror story she heard from her friend Dani. She refuses to even talk about it.

There has to be another way; he’s just not sure what it might be. Jungkook is at a loss, and it feels like the weight of the world is sitting heavy right between his shoulders. The shower kicks on in the bathroom, and Jungkook decides to busy himself by making Jiyoon a cup of tea for when she gets out. He knows she’ll want to spend some time relaxing before bed, and tea always helps.

💔💔💔

Not a day goes by that you don’t think about your best friend, Jiyoon, and the unfortunate circumstances that have befallen her and her husband. It’s not a secret amongst your peers that they’ve been trying to start a family with no luck for several years. It breaks your heart every time she gives you a shake of her head when you look at her with hopeful eyes.

Today isn’t any different. You’re sitting at your desk, absently clicking through the latest portfolio files you got from Namjoon, when Jiyoon walks by your desk, heading toward hers. She’s half an hour late this morning, something that’s pretty routine every few weeks. It’s like clockwork. You’re aware of the ovulation schedule that she and Jungkook keep and know that she allows herself extra time the morning after taking a test to steel herself against the disappointment that will come from the pitying stares in the office.

You catch her eye as she settles into her desk chair, and she gives you that subtle shake of her head. There is tension in her shoulders, and her bottom lip looks like she’s been chewing on it in irritation, but she turns around and gives you her back before you can think to question her about it.

“Morning, Jiyoon,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his office. Namjoon is also well aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jiyoon and Jungkook. It’s why he doesn’t hassle her about being late, something you’re endlessly grateful for.

Jiyoon is your only friend, and you are very protective of her. Well, that’s not entirely true. The protective part is, but she’s not technically your only friend. She’s just the longest friend you’ve had and the one you hold closest to your heart—your best friend. Though, even still, everyone else are really just people you know through Jiyoon or from work. Maybe that’s sad, but you don’t mind it.

“Jiyoon!” Dani squeals from the other side of the office. The bubbly, energetic woman flits across the room, looking every inch like a fairy with her blond pixie cut, petite stature, and buttoned nose.

“Oh gosh, hey. Come here!” Jiyoon swings her chair toward Dani as she beckons her forward, letting you catch a glimpse of her profile. There is a smile on her face, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s strained or not. Jiyoon has always been beautiful, with not a single wrinkle or blemish in sight. Looking at her body language, it’s even harder to tell.

Giggles punctuate their whispered words as Dani crouches beside Jiyoon’s chair, their heads pressed close together. You watch as Dani slips something into Jiyoon’s hand before she stands and waggles her brows down at your friend.

“Have fun,” Dani sing-songs as she prances away from Jiyoon’s desk. Her gunmetal eyes meet yours, and her face sours before she disappears beyond your cubicle.

“What’s that?” you ask a beat after she’s gone and before you can curb your curiosity, tinged with mild jealousy. Dani has made it clear before that she doesn’t like you very much, only tolerating you for Jiyoon’s sake. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t find yourself included when it comes to anything involving Dani—it’s something you’ve chalked up to her own jealousy, perhaps at the fact you’ve been Jiyoon’s friend for so long.

Jiyoon flicks her eyes in your direction before stuffing whatever Dani gave her into her purse. “Just some antacids,” she says, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

All suspicions disappear as you take in the controlled curve of her lips. She looks miserable. “Oh,” is all you can manage before Namjoon calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s start this week off on the right foot. We have reports to file and new contracts to negotiate…”

You and Jiyoon have always aspired to work for a marketing and media agency together. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you both were elated to land jobs with Kim Exclusives, one of the most popular management companies for up-and-coming artists, models, and influencers.

That was seven years ago, and your time here has only solidified your friendship with Jiyoon. She met her husband, Jungkook, through the agency. He was one of the first models signed to Kim Exclusives, and you and Jiyoon both handled his portfolio and schedule for a year before she had to give you sole leadership over it once they became intimately involved—the whole conflict of interests thing.

“Are we still meeting tonight?” you ask Jiyoon as the day draws to a close. She’s still diligently working away at her computer, and you stand outside her cubicle with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh. Umm, yeah, I guess. I might be a bit late, though.”

You peek over her shoulder. “Is that the new Song profile?”

“Yep,” she pops the end of the word, keying you into thinking she's not in the mood to chat right now.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later then.”

Jiyoon makes a noncommittal sound, already focused back on her work. You miss the days when she would give you more than a few passing words. Even on her good days, it seems like she’s growing further and further away from you. It’s hard not to feel guilty over the bitter and lonely feelings you get when you think about it. It’s not Jiyoon’s fault that you don’t have more close friends to turn to. But sometimes you wish you meant as much to her as she does to you.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you mentally kick yourself. It’s not fair for you to think that. You know Jiyoon cares for you; she’s just had a rough few years, and you shouldn’t be making it about yourself.

Feeling truly like a shit friend, you continue to chastise yourself over the next two hours as you commute home and get ready for tonight. Five minutes away from the pub, you consider calling Jiyoon and canceling. But, just as you pull out your phone to do that, someone calls your name from down the sidewalk.

You turn to see Taehyung and Jungkook waving at you from across the street. Well, there goes your intention to cancel.

“Hey! Have you heard from Jiyoon?” Jungkook asks as he and Taehyung jog across the street.

You press your lips into a thin line, confused. “Did she not come home?”

“Ah, no. She said she was working late and that I should just go ahead and meet up with you and Taehyung. She’s, uh, well, she’s not answering my calls. We—this morning…sorry, just, have you talked to her?”

Doing your best to keep your eyes on his, you give him an honest answer, “She was still working when I left the office. I haven’t heard from her since.” Losing the battle against your will, your eyes sweep over your best friend’s husband. He’s just as gorgeous as he always has been. His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, licking at the collar of his denim jacket. As the lead on his contract, you know he recently landed a massive campaign with a new clothing company, their emblem stitched onto the breast of the coat. Jungkook looks every inch the model he is; his friend no less so.

“Hey! Happy Birthday!” Taehyung greets you as your eyes swing to him.

Warm embarrassment kisses your cheeks. You hate your birthday; you hate being the center of attention. “Thanks,” you murmur, giving him a tight smile.

“Oh, yeah, happy birthday,” Jungkook tacks on. He rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic look. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” As Taehyung leads the way inside, you type out a quick text to Jiyoon asking how long she’ll be.

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in a mildly withdrawn personal bubble of silence as Jungkook and Taehyung chat about work and sip on fingers of liquor. You’re normally not so silent with them, as they have been clients of yours for years but you’ve also grown to think of them as friends. It’s just you have a lot on your plate right now, Namjoon just added three new clients to your work portfolio, putting you at juggling almost a dozen. You don’t mind the added workload, it helps keep you busy, but it does mean you have to switch around your schedule a great deal and have less time to spend with Jungkook and Taehyung who are two of the longest portfolios you’ve managed. They have a joint ad campaign coming up for the whiskey they’re sampling right now and are trying to decide if they actually like it or not.

Over the years, you've learned that advertisements are just that—a cleverly crafted piece of media to highlight a product. The models in a hamburger ad could very well be vegan, but they’re paid to make you believe otherwise. So, even if they decide they don’t like the whiskey, money will say they do.

Taehyung is a bit newer to Kim Exclusives, a model by complete accident. He came into the office once with Jungkook, just friends hanging out with each other, and the moment Namjoon saw him, he had to have him. A few weeks later, Taehyung was added to the roster of elite models under Kim Exclusives, booking just as well as any veteran.

“It’s a little too smokey for me, I think,” Taehyung comments. “What do you think?” he asks, setting his glass on the table and startling you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You blink up at him, totally lost.

“Give it a taste.” He taps the rim of the glass. “Tell me what you think,” he encourages, pushing the glass closer to where your hands are clasped together on the table.

You don’t really want to try the whiskey, but the expectant looks on Taehyung and Jungkook’s faces make you pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It burns across your tongue, coating your throat in a fiery, smokey blend of burnt spices. The flavor sits like ash in your mouth.

“It’s, uh…”

“Not great, right?” Jungkook gives you a lopsided grin, his shoulders stretching the seams of his jean jacket as he shrugs. “It’s okay to be honest about it.”

You slide the glass back across the tabletop toward Taehyung. “Yeah, it’s not great. It might be better on ice, but I’m not a big drinker, so I think it’s hard for me to judge it fairly.”

They both seem satisfied with this response and resume their conversation about the whiskey and the new campaign. You check your phone, wondering where Jiyoon could possibly be. There is no response to your text.

You’re picking at the frayed edge of the paper coaster that’s slowly growing waterlogged from the condensation dripping down your glass of ice water when Taehyung taps on the table in front of you, trying to capture your attention.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks.

“Sorry. Is what right?” You feel heat bloom in your cheeks at being caught not paying attention yet again.

“You’re healthy.”

That statement has confusion replacing your embarrassment. “Healthy?”

“Let me backtrack,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Jungkook’s chair.

“Taehyung, really, this isn’t the time—”

“Ahem,” Taehyung interrupts Jungkook’s protest. “Hypothetically speaking, if your best friend and her husband were to inquire of you about the possibility of surrogacy, what would you say?”

The dots aren’t connecting for you, and his blunt question makes you feel like you missed something important. “Surrogacy?” You don’t mean to sound like a broken record, repeating what Taehyung is saying, but you’re thoroughly having a tough time understanding.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer that,” Jungkook states, shaking his head at Taehyung and giving him a pleading look that says to stop while he’s ahead.

“Are you and Jiyoon looking into a surrogate?” you ask; everything suddenly clicks into place, and the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it.

Jungkook grips the back of his neck and grumbles something incoherent towards Taehyung before he blows out a heavy breath and his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. “Not exactly, no. We haven’t talked about it yet. It’s just something I read about today. But, honestly, you don’t have to answer the question. Taehyung is just being a dick—”

“I’d do it.”

Your response leaves Jungkook with his mouth open and jaw slack as he stares at you in bewilderment.

“See, I told you. She’s perfect. Young, healthy, and someone you know and can trust,” Taehyung tots off, waving a finger in the air.

“Wait…are you serious?” Jungkook asks, pointedly ignoring Taehyung.

You’ve never considered being a mom before, at least not in that sense. It was always an assumption that it wouldn’t be in the cards for you—the whole lack of a love life thing being the crux of it. You’ve barely had a handful of boyfriends, much less a long-term commitment that would lead to a family. But, when it comes to Jiyoon, you’d do just about anything for her. So, if she asked you to carry a baby for her, you know, without a doubt, you’d do it.

“Y-yeah. Yes,” you state with more confidence. “I’d do that.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jiyoon bustles in through the bar's front door, her lilting laughter drawing everyone’s attention. She has her phone pressed to her ear, and she’s smiling at whatever the person she’s speaking to is saying.

“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow sounds great. See you then,” Jiyoon says before ending the call and pocketing her phone. “Oh, Taehyung is here.” It’s a bland statement, Jiyoon’s eyes flicking over Jungkook’s best friend before landing on her husband. “Did you order me a drink already?”

Jungkook clears his throat, trying to compose himself before speaking. “Babe, hey. Um, no, I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You weren’t responding to any of my calls or texts.”

Jiyoon slides into the empty seat beside you, across from Jungkook, and gives you a quick smile before wrinkling her nose in his direction. “I’ll take a glass of red.”

“Oh-kay,” Jungkook says slowly, a look of confusion ghosting over his features. “Where have you been?”

“Hmm? Oh, just busy with work,” Jiyoon says. “Wine, please, Jungkook.” His only response is a tight press of his lips before he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bar. Jiyoon clicks her tongue and angles herself to look at you. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, eyeing the glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Um, no. You know I don’t—”

“I know, you’re boring,” Jiyoon sighs. The only thing taking the sting out of her words is the smile she gives you. You know Jiyoon isn’t exactly what people would call a nice person; in fact, she’s often coined as a ‘mean girl.’ But she’s never been intentionally mean to you, not really. She just provides constructive criticism and encouragement to be the best version of yourself that you can be.

“Way to be a bitch to her on her birthday, Jiyoon,” Taehyung mumbles into his whiskey glass before tossing it back and downing the rest.

Jiyoon winces and then plasters a smile on her face before saying, “Right, happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You make your best attempt at nonchalance, but you’re not sure it lands properly as Taehyung shakes his head, and Jiyoon sighs again.

“I forgot, okay? It’s been so busy at work and with—uh,” she pauses for just a second, and any other time you might not have noticed, but you can’t help but pick up on the way she rushes to continue, “the new client that you know Namjoon has been breathing down my neck over. The Harper portfolio, you know the one? And apparently, the Song profile needs to be redone on top of that.”

Jiyoon has been different lately. You’re aware that she took over one of the new higher-end clients, some big hot-shot movie star or something like that, but it’s almost made her seem like she thinks she’s above everyone else. It makes things tense sometimes like everyone is on edge when she comes around. You try to ignore it, for the sake of tonight. “It’s okay, Jiyoon, really.”

“Anyway, how are things going? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked about something other than work.”

Yeah, because every time you turn around Jiyoon is spending time with Dani or has a client meeting. You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

Taehyung pipes up in the silence that follows, “We were actually just talking about surroga—”

“Red wine for my wife, another whiskey for Tae, the good stuff this time, and a pina colada for the birthday girl. Virgin, I made sure. I know you don’t like to drink alcohol,” Jungkook interrupts Taehyung, passing out the cluster of drinks in his hands.

You stare up at Jungkook, lips slightly parted as you try to think of the proper response, completely taken off guard by his gesture. Finally, you lamely offer, “Oh, uh, you didn’t have to, but thanks.”

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, you deserve a little treat, and I know you like pineapple.” Jungkook settles back into his seat, and you try to keep your eyes off your best friend's husband. But it’s hard with how his hair falls into his face, and the denim hugs his shoulders as he relaxes against the back of his chair.

“Ew,” Jiyoon gags dramatically, startling your attention in her direction. “Is that a jacket from the shoot today?” She gestures at Jungkook, the distaste apparent on her face. “I know they didn’t dress you in that. What were they thinking?”

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the oversized light-wash jean jacket. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

Jiyoon scoffs, “It looks ridiculous, you look ridiculous. What the hell did you do to your hair? A mullet, really? It’s a wonder you’re a model. You were okay with this?” The last part is directed at you, because, as the lead on his profile, you’re the one who signed off on the hair and makeup for the shoot.

“Hey now,” Taehyung states loud enough to quiet the table; he’s clearly not having any of Jiyoon’s antics tonight, long work day or not. “Keep your petty bullshit opinions for when you’re at home. Tonight isn’t about you or how handsome my best friend is in his jean jacket and new hairstyle.” You can tell he intentionally calls Jungkook his best friend instead of Jiyoon’s husband as an extra jab.

“I never said he wasn’t handsome,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at Jungkook and sighing. “Sorry, dear, I’m just under a lot of stress. You know I didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flick to yours. “I know it’s not your fault.” You just give her a subtle shake of your head, not sure how to respond.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and tries to move the conversation along. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on why we’re here tonight.” He swings his eyes toward you, his smile becoming genuine, and begins to loudly belt out Happy Birthday, much to your dismay. This draws the attention of everyone else in the bar and earns you a generous round of applause when the singing finally fades.

You try to enjoy the rest of your night, but every time Jungkook catches you staring at him, you can’t help but feel a small spike of guilt; guilt over the perhaps tiny, mostly insignificant, completely harmless crush you might, perhaps, maybe have on your best friend’s husband.

It’s hard not to be attracted to him; Jiyoon knows that—she flaunts that fact. She also knows her claws are deep in him, and he’s not going anywhere. Jungkook would pull down the moon for her and then ask if she wanted the sun, too. You swallow down the last of your pina colada, eyes once again locked on Jungkook as he throws his head back and laughs at something Taehyung said.

Jiyoon presses her arm against yours, leaning in close to you. In a soft voice meant only for you, she whispers, “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” she giggles drunkenly. “I know you were staring at him. My husband.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jiyoon sighs wistfully. “It’s okay to stare, I don’t mind. I know what he looks like, after all. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. I wish I could give him what he wants, he’d be the perfect father…I’m so scared to lose him.” The last part is whispered, so soft it’s hard to hear.

Instantly, your guilt turns into something else: resolve. You can’t bear the defeat you hear in her voice. It’s not something you can even begin to fathom—what she and Jungkook are going through. It’s no wonder she has caustic words at times. You meant what you said earlier, what you told Jungkook you were willing to do. With that in mind, you make a mental note to start researching and do what you can to make sure at least someone gets a happy ending here.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

The night of your birthday kept playing over and over again in Jungkook’s head the days that followed. Now, just as evening is rolling around, one week later, he can’t stop thinking about what you said, your confirmation. On top of that, that night was probably the most fun Jungkook has had in a long time—as long as he excludes the prickly start after Jiyoon arrived. He’s used to her snide and biting remarks after a long work day. Brushing them to the side and sweeping them away is usually easy.

But for some reason—perhaps it was the high he was riding after your confession and confirmation—it bothered him that she was doing it in front of Taehyung—in front of you. As if somehow her criticisms might make you both believe them. Not that he cares about being good-looking to Taehyung, or you for that matter, not really. It’s just that his first thought was what if that made you change your mind? Not necessarily whether or not he’s attractive, but the exchange as a whole. What if Jiyoon’s blatant criticisms made you want to change your mind because it somehow planted doubt in your mind that they’re a happy and healthy environment for a child?

“Jungkook.” The frustrated snap of his name brings him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on the bathroom mirror once more, on Jiyoon, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips, accentuating the flattering cut of the navy-colored dress she’s wearing. “Are you even listening to me?”

Turning and leaning back against the counter, Jungkook gives her his full attention. “Uh, yeah, sorry. You were talking about having dinner with a client tonight, and you’re leaving now to meet with Dani so you can get some files.”

“Yes,” she says, her lips twitching in mild surprise, and Jungkook knows she was expecting him not to have been paying attention. “I don’t know how long the dinner will last, so don’t wait up for me. It’s likely I’ll be home late.” She turns to go back into the bedroom, and Jungkook isn’t sure what possesses him, but he surges forward and gently snags her wrist, turning her back toward him. “Uh?” she makes a sound of mild questioning irritation.

“I have something I need—er, want—to talk to you about. It should only take a moment.”

She shakes his hold off her wrist and gives him a placating smile. “Okay, well, talk while I finish getting ready at least.” Not waiting to see if he follows, she disappears into the bedroom and heads to the closet, rummaging through her jewelry.

“Okay, um. Okay,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s under pressure for some reason. “So, the other night, it was brought up in conversation, and uh, she already agreed, and it’s just that, well, there’s this thing called intracervical insemination and…how do you feel about surrogacy?”

There is a heavy pause, dread threatening to make Jungkook backpedal and eat his words just to snatch them back out of the air. Jiyoon glances at him over her shoulder, but he can’t get a clear read on her eyes. “What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says, turning back to her digging.

Jungkook can’t tell whether Jiyoon is the one paying attention to him now, so he probes further, just to be clear. “You mean that? You’re okay with going the surrogacy route? My sperm, her egg…your best friend carrying our baby?”

Jiyoon’s back is to Jungkook, but he watches how her shoulders slide up in a shrug. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just that with ICI—”

“Look, Jungkook,” Jiyoon says, turning to face him fully. Her fingers work at slipping a pair of silver hoops into her earlobes. “I trust you.” She says the words slowly, keeping her eyes intently locked on his. “I know you’ll do your best for us. Whatever you want, it’s what I want, too. You know that.”

“Well, um, do you have any questions? We should talk…discuss this, er, something. I know how you feel about IVF. I want to make sure this is an option you truly want, and you’re not just saying this to make me happy. You should take some more time to think about it.” The fact she’s so quick to agree makes Jungkook question whether or not he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

Jiyoon cups one of his cheeks, gently thumbing over his bottom lip. “I don’t need time to think, because I’ve already thought about it. I—well, I was going to bring it up to you soon, but I wanted to do a bit more research first.”

“Wait, what? Really? You were thinking about ICI, too?” Jungkook swallows hard, leaning into his wife's warm touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her soft smile making her eyes twinkle and his heart melt.

Jungkook can’t help letting his eyes drink in his wife. They might have been going through rough patches the last few years, but that hasn’t lessened how he feels about her. Jungkook has always found her strikingly beautiful, with long legs and shiny hair that he loves to run his fingers through. But at this moment, he feels like he might burst with the love he has for her.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay,” he tries to suppress the emotion in his words. “Okay, perfect. I love you. I love you so much!”

Jiyoon laughs, and it sounds magical, as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips. “Don’t smear my lipstick, please,” she mumbles, her voice light and playful.

“Go have a good dinner, secure the client, and don’t worry about anything else,” Jungkook bubbles happily, setting Jiyoon back on her feet. “I swear I’ll take care of it all. Everything will be perfect, absolutely perfect.”

An hour later, Jungkook walks up to your apartment door. He couldn’t stop himself earlier, so he immediately texted you and asked to see you as soon as Jiyoon left for Dani’s.

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you standing there breathless and in a set of purple checkered pajamas. “Is everything okay?” you ask, worry lines creasing between your brows. “Your text sounded urgent.”

“Oh.” Jungkook feels terrible for making you concerned. He didn’t mean for it to come off like that. “No, I mean, yes, everything is okay. But, no, it’s not exactly urgent. Sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You lean against the doorframe, eyes wide on his. “What is it?”

“Er, uh, do you mind if I come in? This is more of a sit-down kind of conversation.”

The little ‘o’ your lips form is far cuter than Jungkook has a right to think it is. His mind instantly latches onto it, wondering if the baby would have your lips or his. “O-okay, sure, come on in.”

Jungkook has visited your apartment a handful of times over the years. It’s quaint and cozy, exactly what he’d imagine for you. There are books everywhere, shelves full of thick and thin volumes of literary prose. A few art pieces decorate the walls, along with dozens and dozens of black-and-white photos in simple frames. He stirs up the recollection that you enjoy photography in your spare time.

“Sorry, again, about my text. I didn’t mean to worry you, really.” Jungkook feels nervous, unsure where to stand or even sit, until you gesture toward the couch. A handful of well-loved decorative pillows are scattered across the burgundy suede. He settles at one end as you take the other, looking at him expectantly.

A beat or two passes, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to swallow his tongue until you open your mouth, clearly picking up on his distress. “Is it something with work? I can try to fix whatever it is first thing in the morning—”

“No, no,” Jungkook holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s not work. It’s um, it’s actually Jiyoon. Well, me and her, specifically.”

You pull your knees up and tuck your feet underneath yourself. “Oh, okay.”

“Were you serious about what you said the other night?” Jungkook blurts, figuring it’s best, like ripping off a bandaid.

Your bottom lip has an indent left from where you tucked it between your teeth before nodding. “Yes.” Jungkook didn’t necessarily expect you to say no, but the rush of relief he feels at hearing that encourages him to press on.

“I talked with Jiyoon about it today and she—we—would be honored if you’d do that for us. If you’d give us a chance at having a family. It’s…it’s something we both, deeply, deeply desire. If you’re truly serious about it, we’ll take care of everything, all medical expenses, bills, anything…just name it, it’s yours.”

“That’s—okay, okay, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Jungkook whoops loudly, jumping up from the couch, and drags you into his arms for a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, to us. This is…I can’t…oh my, I need to—wait, okay. Sorry, let me calm down for a second.” The word vomit is real, and Jungkook uses his hold on you to ground himself, moving his hands to your shoulders and locking his eyes on yours. “I think I might pass out,” he whispers a second before bursting into a giddy laugh.

“Whoa, um, sit down. Please don’t pass out on me. You’re too big for me to catch!” Your frantic words make him laugh even harder.

He shakes his head, on cloud nine. “I’m kidding, kind of. I just feel…I feel so light, like—well, it doesn’t matter about that. What matters is you. Please don’t feel obligated to do this. That’s the last thing I want. If you are serious, I can send all the information you need to you in the morning. But only if you’re certain.”

“Jungkook,” the way you say his name makes his heart thump heavy in his chest as if his fate hinges on whatever comes next. “I am serious. I promise. I want to do this for you, for Jiyoon…I want to give you both the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says fervently, never meaning something more in his life.

This happiness carries Jungkook through the rest of the evening, turning into a brilliant flame of intimacy when Jiyoon crawls into bed beside him hours later. For the first time in a long time, there is no schedule, no waiting for the perfect moment; it’s just the love shared between two souls celebrating the joys of life.

💔💔💔

The following day, several emails from Jungkook are waiting for you; Jiyoon CC’d on them all, as well as a few texts to check in. The idea that you could possibly be pregnant in the coming weeks or months—not just pregnant, but pregnant with Jungkook’s baby for your best friend—still feels a bit surreal.

You texted Jiyoon last night, expressing to her how much she means to you and that you’re honored she wants it to be you that helps her fulfill her dreams of having a family. She hasn’t replied yet, but that doesn’t bother you; she’s probably busy helping Jungkook with planning.

There is an entire email dedicated to medical referrals. Apparently, Jungkook spent hours pouring over all the local doctors and medical facilities vetting to find the best ones. Each has notes and suggestions under them, along with all the information you might need to call and make an appointment.

That’s really all you need to do: make an appointment for a check-up. Taehyung made an assumption of your health last night, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. The last thing you’d want to do is be in poor health and unable to keep your word.

Your fingers tremble as you dial the numbers, and you have to take a few shallow breaths to get your voice to work properly. Minutes later, you have an appointment scheduled for later this week. Now, all you have to do is figure out how you’re going to wait the next few days and not burst from anticipation. It’s a slow few days.

Apparently, by Googling every possible thing you can think of about being a surrogate and pregnancies. Along with the emails full of information, by the time you’re walking into the clinic for your appointment at the end of the week, you feel confident asking questions.

“Being a surrogate is a pretty serious situation. Have you considered all the possibilities and what might be required of you?” The doctor has a pleasant demeanor; her eyes are intense yet kind. It might be the steel-colored strands scattered through her hair or the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes when she smiles, but you feel comfortable opening up to her.

You roll your lips between your teeth before saying, “Honestly? Probably not as much as most surrogates. I’m sure there are things I’m not aware of yet. It was only presented to me a few days ago. But I have done some extensive reading and soul-searching, and I know it’s what I want.”

Dr. Lee contemplates you for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let’s get started, shall we?”

It’s not uncomfortable going through all the tests and procedures. There isn’t much the doctor does that you haven’t done before. Samples are taken, and a routine exam is performed. As you leave, the nurse tells you you should have results within the next two weeks.

Thankfully, the results come at the beginning of the following week. You’re sitting at your desk at work, reviewing the final details for the whiskey campaign Jungkook and Taehyung are shooting in a few days, when you get the notification that your results are viewable on your patient portal. A moment before you click into the email, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Hello?” you whisper, cupping your hand around the base of your phone and mouth. A nurse rattles off your information, ensuring she speaks to the right person. “Yes, speaking.”

“I just wanted to let you know that all of your results are in, and Dr. Lee has signed off on your request to move forward with the surrogacy…” Everything else the nurse says is a bit hazy. She covers the numbers for your tests and where to find resources for more information on at-home intracervical insemination. “Do you have any questions for me? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Oh, umm, yes, sorry. No questions, thank you so much.”

The line disconnects, and you sit there for a few more moments, the phone still held to your ear, as you try to process the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you. You need to tell Jiyoon, Jungkook, someone…anyone. Pushing up from your desk, you scan the area around you for your best friend and come up empty.

“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Do you know where Jiyoon might be? I haven’t seen her since she came into the office this morning.” You rack your brain, trying to remember if you saw her leave or go into another room.

“Yeah, she called a little while ago and said that Namjoon was having her meet one of the new clients for lunch to sign some more papers.”

“Right, that’s right,” you say, recalling that Namjoon asked her to come into his office shortly after she arrived this morning.

“Why? What’s up?”

You drag a slow, shallow breath into your lungs in an effort to slow your rapidly beating heart. “I heard back from the doctor.”

Jungkook urges you to continue, “Yeah? What did they say? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m great. I’m perfect. I’m—I, I can do it. We can do it. There’s a chart,” you explain, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free your hands so you can pull up the email you got and forward it to him. “It has an estimated schedule and recommendations on timing for the best results. I just sent everything over to you.”

“I got it. Wow. Okay. Wow. Oh my…wow! I need to call Jiyoon. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay, thank you! I’ll call you back later, okay?” The line disconnects after Jungkook says a hurried goodbye, the elation in his voice evident.

According to the doctor's ovulation chart, the best time for you to begin trying is next week. Conception is most likely during a twenty-four-hour period. On your way home, you stop and pick up an ovulation testing kit so you can remain on track.

You arrive home filled with nervous energy, unable to stop smiling as you unpack the things you picked up at the pharmacy. A large box of pregnancy tests goes beside the ovulation kit in your medicine cabinet, along with a pack of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. You’re not sure what you’ll need, exactly, but you figure it’s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

“Jiyoon!” you gush, swiping to answer the call coming in on your phone. “Hi!”

“Hey, I just got off the phone with Jungkook.” There is a lot of background noise, and it’s hard to hear her clearly.

“Oh, wonderful! I got the results today. There is a possibility of next week being—”

A loud laugh cuts through from Jiyoon’s end, the added clang of dishes drowning you out further. “Sorry, I’m still at dinner. Next week, you say? I’ll be going on a business trip the whole of next week, Namjoon wants me to travel with a client for a go-see.”

Disappointment drags at your shoulders and has your smile softening into a frown. You suppose it can wait a few more weeks. “Okay, no problem. That will give us time to plan a bit more anyway.”

“Sure thing!” Jiyoon yells, the line cutting out momentarily. “I’ll catch you later. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Thank you. I love you so much!”

“Okay, yeah, love you—” The line goes dead before you can finish. “Love you, too,” you murmur into the quiet of your apartment.

A minor setback. But it’s okay; you’re sure you were getting ahead of yourself anyway. Taking a few weeks to confirm things and actually come up with a game plan is probably for the better. But it doesn’t hurt to start doing that now. Letting the smile that hadn’t left your face most of the day slide back onto your lips, you continue setting up everything in your bathroom so it’ll be there for when you do need it.

It turns out you don’t have to wait—at least, according to Jungkook. From the constant flood of text messages you’ve gotten from him over the last few days, as much as Jiyoon would love to be there to help, she’s given her blessing to proceed with the ICI without her. In her own words, via a text you got last night, there will be plenty more for her to be present for, and she’s far too excited for you to wait for her to return.

Jiyoon has been relatively quiet, but Jungkook explained in delicate words that she’s okay; she just has a lot on her plate right now. Even though it may seem like she’s on the outside, it’s more that this is a very sensitive topic for Jiyoon. Despite wanting a child, ICI is nearly as taboo a subject as IVF when it comes to Jiyoon; you know this. She’s told you how much it makes her feel like a failure. So, you’re content when Jungkook takes full responsibility for the surrogacy journey and has promised to be there for you every step of the way, including coming over to your place tonight to help you with the first ICI attempt.

You’ve been testing your ovulation each morning, and the positive test strip in your bathroom trash has started a full-tilt, day-long extravaganza. It’s a Thursday, just a few days after you got your green light from the doctor, meaning you were able to leave work early and are now sitting on your couch waiting patiently for Jungkook to arrive.

All your research and reading about ICI makes you nervous about what’s to come. It’s not that you’re going to be explicitly intimate with Jungkook, but you’re well aware of the fact that fresh sperm samples, as in within a thirty-minute window, are the best. Which means, he’s going to have to somehow provide the sample while he’s here.

The idea of Jungkook masturbating in your bathroom should feel awkward or perhaps embarrassing to think about, yet you’re oddly comfortable with it. It’s a natural thing, something necessary to create something that’s going to be beautiful.

By the time Jungkook knocks on your door, your hands are clammy, and it takes you two tries to get the handle to turn. He greets you with a giant smile and shining eyes, absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you parrot, unable to contain from reflecting the smile still on his face. “Please, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook steps past you, and the soft fragrance of his laundry detergent catches in your nose. “I brought everything we need,” he says, holding up a bag. He’s wearing the same denim jacket he was the other night, a white T-shirt underneath above a pair of worn, light-washed jeans, and black boots on his feet that he toes off before heading into your living room.

“Can I get you anything to drink or maybe something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?” You’re not sure how this is going to go, if it’s just going to be a clinical experience or something more comfortable between friends. Because you are friends, right? At this point, you should consider him more than just your best friend’s husband; he should at least be seen as a friend of yours, too.

Jungkook deposits the bag on your couch and turns to look at you. “Um, maybe if you had some beer or something, but I know you don’t drink—” There is a nervous energy to the way he’s talking, words coming out a little too quickly “—so, er, maybe just some water is fine.”

“Actually,” you say, hurrying into the kitchen and opening the fridge, “I got, well, is this okay?” You hold up a 6-pack of beer you bought on a whim a few nights ago. It’s true that you don’t really drink, but you weren’t thinking of yourself at the time that you bought it. In actuality, you were thinking of Jungkook, knowing he’s partial to this brand, and figured…well, you’re not sure what you figured, you bought it before you could give it too much thought.

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts, his smile turning into a light smirk. “Wow, my favorite. I’d love to, but actually, I’m not sure if I should, no matter how nervous I am right now…not until after, at least. I haven’t read anything about how alcohol might impact things, but I’ve not had a drop of alcohol to drink nor a bite of junk food in the last week, just in case.”

“Oh, right. Of course, I should have thought about that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking either, I haven’t been able to think about much at all, if I’m being honest,” Jungkook laughs nervously, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “Is this weird? Are you sure you want to do this?”

It is weird, but not in a bad way, and you don’t want to admit that because you don’t want him to worry. So, you simply smile and shake your head. “It’s not all that weird, it’s…well, just not weird. I am nervous,” you decide to give him at least that. “I’m worried that it might not work, or that I might do something wrong.”

“W-what do you think you might do wrong?” Jungkook asks, moving closer to you. “I’ve…I’ve read a lot about the how, I even got an informational video from my doctor.”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not sure, exactly. I guess just the whole process in general.”

There is a beat where you can see Jungkook contemplating his words. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to you. “I could help if you want. Purely in a platonic, helpful way, no funny business, I swear.”

“Um, I don’t know if that…uh, I can try first, maybe?” You can’t seem to swallow past the thick knot in your throat at the thought of asking Jungkook to help assist you in…well, that.

“Sure, okay. Should we…get started?” Jungkook asks, his eyes flicking back to the bag he dropped on your couch.

Your stomach flips at his words. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, feeling suddenly even more shy than usual.

“Great.” Jungkook claps his hands together before retrieving the bag from the couch. “I have everything we need. It's probably best if we begin this in the bathroom.”

Your apartment has one bathroom, which is joined to the bedroom but is still accessible through the hallway. Jungkook leads the way down the hall, flicking on the light inside the bathroom before stepping aside to let you in as well.

“Have you talked with Jiyoon?” you ask, seeking something to fill the silence as you watch him unpack everything from the bag and arrange it on the bathroom counter.

Jungkook shakes his head in a so-so manner. “I spoke with her for a few minutes earlier to let her know the plan for tonight. She couldn’t talk long and it was hard to hear with all the background noise, but she’s excited and said she can’t wait to be back at the end of the week.”

After washing his hands, Jungkook opens up the packet of a large sterile pad and spreads it out across the rest of the counter. From the research you’ve done, you recognize some of the things he begins to set out. There is a collection cup with an orange screw-on lid, a large syringe with a hose attaching it to a bulbous silicone mushroom-shaped plug, and several single-use packets of water-based lube. He also sets out a box of pregnancy tests, giving you a sheepish smile when you raise an eyebrow at it.

“I, uh, bought some, too,” you say, opening the medicine cabinet to show him the large box of pregnancy tests sitting between your ovulation test kit and your toothbrush.

Jungkook smiles. “I guess we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”

You have to stop yourself from leaning too far into the unusual, yet enticingly warm and appealing, feeling you get when he smiles like that. Clearing your throat, you gesture to the spread of tools. “What now?”

“I think we should discuss a game plan, make sure we know what to do and when to do it. There are some things I’ve read online, plus the directions in this pamphlet,” he says, slipping a folded paper from the box the inseminator came in.

Leaning in, you try to read the step-by-step process written on the paper over Jungkook’s shoulder. He shifts, steps closer to you, and angles the pamphlet to make it easier for you to see.

“Step one, collect the sample. Step two, transfer the sample into the syringe. Step three, insert the silicone plug into the…v-vagina,” you choke over the word, feeling heat licking up your neck, “as close to the cervix as possible. Step four, depress the plunger to administer the sample.”

“Seems pretty simple, right?”

You’re not sure you’d say simple. Sure, step by step, it looks pretty straightforward, but you seem to be responsible for the most challenging part, and that makes you even more nervous than before. “Yeah, simple.”

“Give me a few minutes, I need to—uh,” he points to the sample cup. “I’ll, you know.”

“Oh, right, right, of course. I’ll just—" you hook a thumb over your shoulder towards the door that leads to your bedroom ”—wait in there.”

It’s hard not to pace around your bedroom as you wait. You try to stick to the far side of your bedroom, not wanting to come too close to the bathroom and overhear anything you shouldn’t. The fact your best friend’s husband is in your bathroom masturbating is a weird enough revelation, albeit a necessary one for the ICI procedure; you’d still rather afford him some privacy.

After three minutes, you stop counting the seconds that pass, realizing that means you’re counting how long it takes for Jungkook to produce the sample. Which is something you’re vehemently trying to avoid thinking about so casually.

The bathroom door opening startles you, stopping you in your tracks. Jungkook clears his throat. “Ready?”

You move over to the bathroom. “I think so.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You can do this and don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need any help, promise. Purely for help, for the process.” Jungkook swipes a finger in an x over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“You’re right,” you say, trying to bolster your own confidence. “I can do this.”

You step past Jungkook and into the bathroom, but his hand on your arm pulls you up short. “Wait, wait. Would you feel more comfortable doing it in your room? It’s just that I’ve read it’s best if you could lay on your back with your hips elevated for fifteen to thirty minutes after.” He nods at your bed. “More comfortable than the bathroom floor.”

The idea of doing this on your bed crosses a line, taking this from a medical process to something far more intimate. “Maybe just a pillow,” you say, grabbing one of the decorative throw pillows you never seem to remember to put back on your bed but keep in a small pile on the floor instead.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a small smile, and it makes his eyes look soft and bright. The kind of smile you hope you can help him bestow onto a baby.

You leave the door unlocked, just in case you need his help. In your bathroom, there is no evidence of Jungkook's actions other than the very full sample cup sitting on the medical pad covering the counter.

The cup is warm to the touch, which is startling, though you know it shouldn’t be. Placing the pillow down on the floor, you shimmy your pants and panties down your legs and step out of them. There is a lingering scent in the bathroom; it’s a mix of Jungkook’s cologne but also of something clinical. You realize there are two empty packets of lube in your trashcan, and you can’t help the image that pieces itself together in your mind.

Swallowing hard against the threatening flood of further indecent thoughts, you move quickly to prepare the inseminator. It’s a systematic process you can do with little thought—safe—unscrewing the cap of the cup and filling the syringe. Once you’re in position on the floor, hips elevated on the pillow, empty packets of lube discarded and your body primed, you take the silicone plug in one hand and the syringe in the other.

The directions make it seem so easy. But as you try to fit the silicone plug inside, you can’t seem to get it to go where you want it. It keeps slipping sideways and tugging at the tube connecting it to the syringe. Your heart begins to race as you realize you might not be able to do this—not on your own, at least.

By the fourth try, fifteen minutes have passed, and you’re in full-blown panic mode. Your breath wheezes in and out as you crunch up, hands fumbling between your thighs, and sweat forming on your brow. “Oh god, oh god. I—uh, god dammit…Jungkook!” His name is out of your mouth in a strangled yell before you can stop it.

“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The frantic words are muffled through the door. The door rattles on its hinges, and you can tell he’s pressing up against it from the sound of denim scuffing along it, probably pressing his ear against it in an effort to hear your response.

You’ve managed to get it inside, but you’re not sure if you can get it all the way in, pressed up against your cervix where it needs to be. It’s possible you used too much lube, though the idea that it’s possible to have too much lubricant seems ridiculous. But no matter what you do or how far you press your fingers in, you’re either at a wrong angle, or your fingers keep slipping on the plug too much. Asking Jungkook for help is the last thing you want to do, but you’re not sure what other options there are.

“C-can you come in here?” you ask in a hoarse voice. There is a moment of silence before the door eases open and Jungkook sticks his head inside. His eyes are closed so tight it makes you let out a snap of nervous laughter. “I think…I think I need help. I’m sorry, I just can’t—it’s not going in all the way, I don’t think,” you gush in explanation.

“Do you—is it okay if I?” Jungkook asks, leaving the obvious unsaid.

“Um, yes…please. I’ve tried, and I just…I don’t want to ruin this. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, eyes still firmly closed and arms out in the air. “Um, where exactly are you so I don’t step on you by accident?”

Snagging the edge of the towel hanging on the rack, you pull it down and drape it over your knees to make yourself as decent as you can be in this situation. “Just open your eyes, it’s okay.”

Slowly, his eyes peek open and finally land on where you’re laid out on the floor, bent knees covered in a towel and your shirt askew from all your efforts.

“How can I help?” Jungkook kneels down beside you, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to the side.

“I just…I don’t know if it’s all the way in. Can you—with your hand, I know that’s horrible and weird, but I don’t know what else to—”

“No, no, it’s not weird. I said I’d help. It’s clinical, right? We’re doing this just as a medical procedure. Like I said, no funny business, I swear. It’s for the baby. I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut because it’s hard to look him in the eye when he’s about to—the towel shifts, and cool air licking between your thighs has your mind going blank.

“Look at me,” Jungkook requests, to which you immediately comply. “I need you to promise me you’ll let me know if I hurt you or do something you don’t like. I’ll stop immediately, okay?” When you don’t immediately say anything, he adds, “I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Stretching across to the sink, Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours as he washes his hands and then shifts the towel more, folding it up and over your knees. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

His fingers are gentle against your skin, softer than you expected, and warm from the water. You can feel errant droplets of water streak down your thigh and roll over the bottom of your ass. You try to focus on that feeling instead of the way Jungkook’s hand trails down your thigh until his fingers graze your outer lips.

“I’m going to use two of my fingers to try and seat the inseminator. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” this time, it comes out as more a breath than a word.

You tense at the subtle press of his fingers and how they probe their way down until they find your entrance. There is easily enough lube down there to grease a bakery’s worth of cake pans, considering the half a dozen empty packets now in your trashcan, but you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath as he begins to press in.

“Still okay?” he asks, fingers moving achingly slow.

“I think so.”

Jungkook’s brow pinches. “I feel it…only about two inches in. I’m going to push it further now. Tell me if it hurts or is uncomfortable.”

Never in a million years did you think you’d ever find yourself in this position. Not only are you butterflied open on your bathroom floor, but your best friend’s husband is now middle-knuckle deep in your vagina, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. In fact, you’re trying to do everything you can to not think about how you stretch around the intrusion of his fingers, or that it feels far better than it should.

“Do you think you can get it all the way?” you ask, voice warbling with nerves.

Jungkook hums, his lips pushing out as if he is trying to concentrate. “I think I’m almost there. Does that feel okay, is it good?”

Not once does he look away from you as he’s pushing deeper into your body. You think you want him to look away, to break that intimate contact, but you can’t even bring yourself to do that—even though you know you should. And the whispered exchange does little to help. Is it good? You’re going to burn in hell for the thoughts now flooding through.

“Oh!” You jolt in place, eyes going wide, all previous thoughts gathering into one singular point. Jungkook mirrors your surprise, his mouth popping open in silent shock.

“I’m so sorry!” he babbles. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh fuck, god damn, shit…okay, sorry, let me just—” Jungkook is still gentle, yet swift in finishing seating the inseminator before quickly extracting his fingers from your body. “Please believe me when I say I am sorry, and I swear I wasn’t trying…I wasn’t trying to do that.”

Your body is still buzzing from the that he’s talking about—the graze of his thumb over your clit. It’s clear it was an accident by his reaction, but it does nothing to lessen the pulse that is now singing through your body.

“I-it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s fine.” You’re not sure if your words are convincing enough, but Jungkook jerks his head in what you assume is a nod of acknowledgement.

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s in. Do you need me to do the syringe, too?”

“Just do it.” You exhale a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes away from his. You’re confident he’s still watching you, even as he depresses the syringe and injects his cum into your body—as crass as that sounds in your head, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s the first time you think you’re realizing how truly fucked you are for this.

Nothing has happened between you and Jungkook, not in that way, but for some reason, guilt won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’ve just betrayed Jiyoon and feel even more like a ridiculous schoolgirl ruining her life over a crush on a boy. You’re intimately aware of the warmth and the subtle change in pressure as he finishes depressing the inseminator. It makes you want to squirm, but you chew your bottom lip and tap your toes instead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft and gentle.

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh.

Jungkook balks. “What? Why would you say that? I’m fine…I’m the one that—” He nods toward where your body is now covered with the towel again. As soon as he was done plunging the depressor, he unfolded the towel and made you decent once more.

“You didn’t mean to,” you say, maybe more as a reminder to yourself than him.

“No, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Jungkook settles back on his heels, using one of the wet wipes that came in the kit to clean his hands. Suddenly, he laughs. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, look at us, we just did something…beautiful, and we’re not allowing ourselves to enjoy it.”

You chuckle softly, fidgeting with one of the ends of the towel. “It is kind of ridiculous, huh? Sorry that I freaked out and you had to do…that.”

”I’m not. Sorry, that is. I’m glad you asked for my help. We’re in this together.” Jungkook gives you a smile, similar to the one he wore when he knocked on your door over an hour ago, and takes up the hand not pinching at the towel in his, squeezing it. “I don’t know that I can even begin to articulate with words just what this means to me. Thank you so much.”

“It means a lot to me, as well. Being able to do this for you and Jiyoon is not something you need to thank me for. I’d do anything for her. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together over the last twenty years…I just want to see her happy. You, too, of course.”

Jungkook hums in the back of his throat, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he leans back, using the side of the tub for support. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, spanning several minutes until Jungkook speaks again. “Have you ever thought about being a mom, you know, before this?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to answer with what you think he wants to hear, that this has always been your wish, but instead, you choose to give him an honest answer. “Not really.”

”Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

If it were anyone else asking, you might mind, but…

You purse your lips before offering yet another truth. “I guess I just…I’m me, you know?”

”No, I don’t think I do know. What do you mean?”

“I’m a single woman in my thirties with no prospects on the horizon. My last boyfriend was over five years ago. I’m a modern-day spinster. Nothing is wrong with that, I love who I am…I just, no one has ever shown interest in me like that. Though it’s not necessary to have another person in the picture, it’s just that…I don’t even know, I’m rambling, sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, and it’s so hard to read his expression. All you want to do is plead with him to tell you what’s on his mind.

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” he finally says.

”Do what?” you ask, uncertain what he’s referring to.

“Sell yourself short like that. You are easily one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. You have a successful career and amazing tastes in art and food. Not to mention, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re…you’re amazing, and I know for a fact that people think so, too.”

You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m one of them. I wouldn’t choose just anyone to do this with. After all, the baby will be half of you, too. A win-win in my book.” The corner of his mouth tilts in a small smile.

You’re pretty certain you’ve never had something create such a viscerally emotional response in you. It takes everything you have to blink away the sudden onslaught of tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

When you finally think you can speak without melting into a blubbering mess, you whisper, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

It’s well after midnight by the time Jungkook makes it home. He’s positively buzzing and can’t even think about going to bed just yet. There is far too much going on in his head, so he decides to expend some energy in the tiny home gym he turned one of the spare rooms into.

The condo he and Jiyoon bought two years into their marriage is spacious, spanning half the second and third floors of the building. There is a three-car garage on the first floor, as well as an elevator that leads to the landing out front. Across the landing is where Taehyung lives with his roommate Jimin, another well-to-do model they met through Kim Exclusives.

Jiyoon stuck her nose up at the fact that Taehyung was buying the unit across from them when Jungkook first told her, but so far, it hasn’t caused too many problems over the years. It helps at times like this, when Jiyoon is traveling for work, to have a friend so close by. Usually, Jungkook would knock next door when he can’t get his head cleared, but for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to tell Taehyung about what happened at your place. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter, holding onto it as a private thing for as long as possible.

Losing himself in sets of squats and curls is far safer than describing in maddening detail the way your soft, lush—Jungkook slams his hand against the squat rack and forces his thoughts away from that line of thinking.

Just because you’re a gorgeous woman with a nice body doesn’t give him the right to think about you like that. Especially considering he’s married to your best friend, whom he loves more than anything. Besides, he’s better than that, knows the whole alpha male hindbrain is the stuff of fantasy. There is no excuse for him having such sordid and outlandish thoughts about you like that. It was simply doing what needed to be done to help—for the baby.

With that in his mind instead, he moves through the motions of his workout. By the time he’s dripping sweat and his muscles are trembling with fatigue, the sun is starting to peek through the windows, and he hasn’t thought about you in hours—well, not much, at least. And when he does, he says it's just because he's thinking of what might be passed down to your baby—er—his and Jiyoon's baby—he reminds himself.

It’s been an excruciating three weeks waiting and waiting to hear from you about something other than work. After Jiyoon returned home from her business trip, Jungkook told her about that night, including the accidental slip-up. At first, she was upset, accusing him of taking advantage of her best friend. It took hours of strained conversation to get her to understand that it was more of a clinical procedure than Jungkook fingering you.

When that accusation was first thrown out, Jungkook was at a loss for words and completely thrown off the tracks. Jiyoon apologized, saying she didn’t understand how he didn’t think she’d be upset about it but that she’d forgive him for it anyway. She then gathered Jungkook into her arms, and they cuddled in bed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jiyoon would confront you at work over it, but as the days continued on without a peep from you, he figured things were okay between the two of you. There were times when Jungkook wished something had gone down with you and Jiyoon because then, at least, he’d have an excuse to talk to you in a way that didn’t make him look like he only cared about you now that you were possibly pregnant or with something work-related.

He knows these things take time, and there is only so much he can do. So, he’s been pouring himself into work and filling his schedule with as many activities as possible to keep his mind off of waiting.

“Jungkook, let’s go.” Taehyung raps his knuckles on Jungkook’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Head out of the clouds, daddy-o, we’re needed in hair and makeup.”

Sighing, Jungkook hauls himself off the couch in the studio waiting room and follows Taehyung into the space where the makeup and hair artists are set up. He arrived at the studio early this morning and had spent the last hour spilling his guts to Taehyung, something he promised himself he wouldn’t do but couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung smirks. “What? Is that not what you’re hoping to be called? Don’t tell me you and Jiyoon are into daddy roleplay. That might make it a little weird to have your kid also call you daddy—ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head where Jungkook smacked him, Taehyung harrumphs before sidestepping the line of chairs and taking a seat in the one farthest from Jungkook.

“Fuck off, Taehyung. After everything I just told you, that’s all you have to say?”

Taehyung throws up his hands, and the hairdresser at his station begins to comb through his black tresses. “The way it seems to me, you’re the only one making a big deal about this. If you want to check on her, I’m sure she won’t think it’s only because she’s your possible surrogate and not because you’re friends after this. And sure, you stuck your fingers into your wife’s best friend’s vagina, but so what? It was what you needed to do. If I really needed you to touch my dick in order to complete an important procedure, I hope you’d do it with a smile on your face.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes he can’t really argue against that. Taehyung is right. He did what he had to do. Hell, he knows that, he used those words himself when explaining it to Jiyoon. There’s just this feeling he can’t shake, he’s far too nervous and on edge right now. If only you’d reach out, put him out of his misery with an update.

“I hate it when you’re right. I’ll stop being such a—”

“Hi, guys.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, only staff and models are allowed back here.”

“Whoa, hey, wait. She’s our manager, and she can be here.” Jungkook is quick to spout, not caring if there is desperation evident in his voice. Once his eyes landed on you, it was all he could do not to jump up from the makeup chair, cross the room, and drop to his knees and beg for an update.

The directing assistant who stepped in your path gives you a once-over that makes Jungkook grind his teeth, but he just sighs and steps to the side. “Okay, but you’re both needed on set in fifteen,” he says, directing the last part toward Jungkook and Taehyung.

“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just…” You hold up a thin manilla envelope and give it a shake. “Jiyoon is out of the office for the day, she said I should let you see first and that you could tell her later tonight at home. So, here I am. I thought we could look together.”

The makeup artist dabbing a sponge on Jungkook’s jaw lifts an eyebrow when he jerks forward in the chair, intent on scrambling across the room despite being in the middle of blending.

“Two minutes,” she says, stepping back from Jungkook and turning to the makeup collection on her table.

“Okay!” Jungkook springs from the chair and rushes over to you, having no regard for the way his hair flops out of place on his forehead. “Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him. “I just wasn’t feeling all that well this morning, so…well, I just wanted to ensure everything was okay. They had to do a pregnancy test, it was routine.” You offer the folder to him. “Want to do the honors?”

Jungkook’s fingers are trembling as he takes the folder from you. It takes him three tries to get the flap open and to extract the slip of paper inside. You give him an encouraging smile as he looks to you for reassurance before letting his eyes sweep over the report.

“It’s…we’re…you’re…holy fuck. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Jungkook shouts before breaking out into a bout of ecstatic laughter. “Fucking hell, oh my god, you’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father. Me. A father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes!”

You join in his laughter, the sound pleasant and musical, as he throws his arms around you and spins you in a circle. There are shining tears in your eyes when he sets you down again, happiness clear on your face. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper, the words reverent and full of awe.

There have never been more beautiful words. Jungkook can’t help but say them again. “We’re pregnant.”

It’s hard to say if what Jungkook is feeling right now is considered a healthy response to what his wife, Jiyoon, just told him. But, the erratic beat of his heart paired with the incessant ringing in his ears doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just like he’s having some sort of out-of-body experience.

“Say that again,” he requests, softly smacking his lips, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.

Jiyoon sighs, shuffling the papers on her lap. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats the same words you said just two weeks ago.

“You’re certain?” Jungkook wants to believe he heard her correctly but can’t help asking for clarity again.

“I am.” Jiyoon smiles at Jungkook, her eyes watery. “It’s right here, look.”

Jungkook hesitantly takes the top sheet of paper from Jiyoon, letting his eyes devour the words and numbers on it. It’s all there, everything he needs to see and know for the truth—hCG levels far, far above average, an inked red circle around it along with a doctor’s barely legible scrawl of ‘pregnant’ beside that.

“How far along? It’s been—” Jungkook pauses to try to do the math in his head; it’s been weeks since they were last intimate—the night they agreed to do ICI.

“About eight weeks,” Jiyoon offers. “I suspected a few weeks ago, you know, when I was a little sick that weekend—the one when we found out about, well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up or disappoint you if it wasn’t true, especially after such good news…so I scheduled an appointment. I had to be sure, had to be certain.”

“You’re pregnant.” The words feel thick on Jungkook’s tongue, like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of peanut butter; sweet, decadent peanut butter.

“I am,” she whispers, the confirmation turning into a squeal of laughter as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and shouts his own happiness.

Peppering kisses all over Jiyoon’s face, Jungkook hops around, alternating between shouting how much he loves her and how he can’t believe his luck. “I’m going to be a father. Twice! What did I do to deserve this?! I love you so much. Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Jiyoon giggles. “Put me down before you make me hurl.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jungkook pants, setting Jiyoon back down on her feet. “I’m just so excited!” He wiggles his hips and shimmies his shoulders. “We’ll need to order a second crib. Should we have the babies share a room at first? That seems the easier option, right? I bet there is a book on that somewhere, I need to go—”

“Hey, calm, right?” Jiyoon’s smile is warm, soft. “We have time. There is no need to rush. Can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?” she asks, grabbing one of his hands and placing it over her belly.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Jungkook wraps his other arms around Jiyoon and sighs contentedly. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

💔💔💔

Jiyoon seems nervous, pushing around the chopped salad on her plate as she chews her bottom lip. She hasn’t met your eyes the entire time you’ve been at lunch. You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know that she’ll come to you with it when she wants, and pushing won’t do you any good.

“So,” she draws the word out, lips forming an exaggerated pucker.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?” You can tell that’s not what she wants to say or ask, but you indulge her anyway, hoping you’ll get to the actual matter of why she insisted on going to lunch with you today.

You shift in your seat, setting your fork down on your half-empty plate. “I feel good. I just have some nausea in the mornings sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”

Finally, Jiyoon’s eyes come up to meet yours. “I know what you mean,” she says, the words slow and enunciated—pointed. Her free hand flutters over her belly as if for emphasis.

“What?” The word is more breath than question. “You are?”

“I am,” Jiyoon confirms, tears shining in her eyes.

“Oh, my goodness! Jiyoon! What? But how? Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful!” You can’t contain your excitement for your friend, throwing yourself across the tabletop to hug her fiercely.

She’s laughing as you sit back down, clearly buzzing with her own excitement. “We just found out. It seems a miracle was in our cards after all. It’s still early, nine weeks or so now.” That would make it just two weeks, give or take, before you and Jungkook did the ICI.

“Wow,” you breathe, your own hand landing on your stomach. “They might as well be twins. It’ll be so cool—what?” Jiyoon’s frown stilts your excitement. “What is it?”

She casts her eyes away from yours again, pulling her full bottom lip between her teeth before letting it pop back out. “I don’t know. I just thought…it’s not too late if you wanted to—I just know it’s a lot on someone, your body, the pain and everything that comes after. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s just, we don’t expect you to continue…if you don’t want. We’d be completely understanding and fully supportive if you—”

“Termination? Is that…what you’re talking about? And Jungkook agrees?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like that word. I’m just saying that we will support your decision to do that if you’d like. It was never in the plans to have more than one child, and now it would be two newborns at the same time…that’s a lot, you know? Twice as many diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights. It would be hard to say goodbye, but we’d still love you and not think less of you for it.”

Your mouth feels too dry for you to form words. You know what she’s saying. Though there isn’t a single ounce of you that desires that, you also understand the hesitation Jiyoon is expressing. She’s right. There wasn’t a plan for two babies. So, what now? Do you volunteer to help? Do you seek out the advice of a lawyer to know where your parental rights might sit in the case they decide they don’t want the baby in the end? So many thoughts swirl through your mind that it makes you dizzy.

“Can I think about it?” you ask, feeling for the first time a wave of uncertainty.

Jiyoon gives you what you assume is supposed to be an assuring smile. “Of course. And if you decide not to, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of system. We’ll figure it out.”

She seems so sure that no matter your decision, it’ll all be okay. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I want—we want, these babies, even if we didn’t plan for two. I was just letting you know that there is that option if you want it.”

“I-I don’t think I do, but if that changes…I’ll let you know.”

“That’s all I ask! Now, tell me, what do you think it’ll be?” she asks, patting her flat stomach again. “A boy or a girl? I’m leaning more towards a boy…”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Jungkook still can’t believe his life. Two babies—two extraordinary miracles, it’s surreal—perfect. His calendar has never been more full. There’s the regular schedule of photo shoots, meetings, and other client work but now those are penned in between the baby classes he’s signed up for and various doctor’s appointments.

One of which is scheduled this afternoon, just a few hours after another this morning. There is your ten-week and then Jiyoon’s three-month appointment. Things have been going great with the pregnancies being so close together, but it does sometimes make appointments and times overlap. Which is how Jungkook finds himself sprinting across the parking lot of Jiyoon’s doctor’s office. He’s late—really late. He didn’t mean to arrive so late. It’s just that your appointment ran a little longer than expected, and traffic wasn’t exactly on his side, either.

Just as Jungkook puts his hand on the handle to open the door to the doctor’s office, it swings outward, nearly smacking him in the face. Jiyoon glares at him, a peeved sigh escaping her.

“You missed it.”

“What? No. I still have—” he glances down at his watch. “The appointment should have lasted at least forty-five minutes, and it’s only been thirty.”

Jiyoon rolls her eyes. “They were able to get me in a few minutes early.” She pushes past him and starts towards her car. “Everything is fine, by the way. The baby is measuring small but is still healthy. Thanks for asking,” she snarks, holding up a length of printed film.

Jungkook grabs the strip from her hand, jogging to keep up with her angry strides. “Wow,” he whispers, looking down at the 2D images. “She’s beautiful, so tiny.”

“She? It could be a boy.”

“Is that what you hope it is?” Jungkook asks, skipping ahead of Jiyoon before turning and walking backwards in front of her. His eyes barely leave the black-and-white grainy images. He traces over the faintly-there contours of the face, the delicate nose and forehead.

Clicking the unlock button on her keyfob, Jiyoon sighs again. “I just want it to be healthy. I don’t care what gender it is.”

“You don’t care?” Jungkook purses his lips, finally looking up at his wife. She’s wearing a designer pantsuit, the deep navy complementing her porcelain complexion and making the red lip she has on pop beautifully. Pregnancy looks good on her. He opens his mouth to tell her so when she cuts him off.

“Don’t say it like that. Of course, I care. Good god, Jungkook, why do you have to make me feel like shit all the time? First you missed my appointment, because why? Because you were busy playing daddy to someone else. And now, here you are, accusing me of being a terrible mother before it’s even born. Fuck you. Fuck you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook is so confused. “What? I didn’t—playing daddy? What are you talking about? I already said I was sorry for missing the appointment, you know the times were really close. It was her ten-week appointment. They were measuring her nuchal translucency, you remember how important that is!”

“Whatever,” Jiyoon deadpans, pushing around Jungkook and climbing into her car. “I have a meeting tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

Before Jungkook can respond, the door slams shut, Jiyoon turns over the engine, and takes off. Maybe not everything is perfect, he laments to himself, mulling over his earlier thoughts. With a determined expression on his face, Jungkook makes his way to his own car and promises to do his best to make this right, vowing not to let something like this happen again.

Of course, it’s only some weeks later that Jungkook has to break this vow. It’s not his fault, it’s no ones. It seems that life just wants to test him, perhaps make sure he’s honing his time management skills for when the babies come.

Everything has been going great since his hiccup with missing Jiyoon’s twelve-week appointment. He’s been able to shuffle around his schedule and work with the both of you to ensure appointments don’t overlap or are too close together.

Jiyoon has become reliant on him, which is something Jungkook revels in. It’s like their marriage is finally back to the way it once was, full of nights cuddled in bed and romantic dinners—sans the wine. While you’ve been fiercely independent, yet charmingly sweet when it comes to Jungkook and Jiyoon and sharing the pregnancy experience with them.

There have been a few discussions about the fact that now there are going to be two babies instead of one. Jungkook has spent nearly all of his free time turning the guest bedroom into a nursery fit for two. His home gym has become a catch-all, most of the equipment being confined into a corner to make room for the furniture that came out of the guest room-now-nursery.

It’s been a lot, but it’s something Jungkook would never trade for anything in all the world. He’s positively jubilant over the prospect of being a father. It’s something he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. Now, it’s just a few months away, a permanent light in his life.

“J-jungkook?” your trembling voice sounds through his phone when he swipes to answer the call, tossing the paint roller into the bucket. Butter yellow coats the walls of the nursery and dots the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I slipped on the stairs, I’m at the ER right now—”

“I’m on my way!”

“Jungkook, no. It’s okay. I know you have things going on today. I just thought I should tell you. Jiyoon was in a meeting, so Namjoon said he’d pass her a memo when she was done.”

He’s supposed to attend a First-Time Fathers class in an hour, and Jiyoon has her twenty-two-week anatomy scan this afternoon. The class can wait. If he’s lucky, he can go to the ER, check on you, and then make it to Jiyoon’s appointment.

“No, no, you’re not sitting in the ER by yourself. I’ll text Jiyoon and let her know that I’m leaving now to come check on you.”

“O-okay.”

The line disconnects, and Jungkook slaps the lid on the paint bucket and throws a plastic sheet over the paint tray. If it dries out, then it dries out. Paint can be replaced; your health is far more crucial right now.

Walking into the entryway, he thumbs open his messages and types out a quick text to Jiyoon before tossing his phone on the small bench by the door so he can pull on his shoes.

It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, and it takes another ten minutes of searching to find you sitting in a waiting room with a large ice pack resting on your right foot.

“Hey, are you okay? Have you been seen yet? How long have you been here? What happened?”

You hold up a hand to ward off more of his word vomit, an embarrassed smile soft on your face. “Slow down, have a seat. I’m okay. They said I should be called back soon.”

Instead of sitting, Jungkook kneels on the floor in front of you. His fingers the ice pack, his face falling even further. “What happened?”

“I slipped in the stairwell at work, missed the last step and came down hard on the side of my foot.”

“Can I?” he asks, fingers moving to the corner of the ice pack.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Lifting it gently, Jungkook takes in the sight of your foot. The black ballet flats you’re wearing give him a clear view of the swelling that’s already beginning along the top and side of your foot.

“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”

Before you can answer Jungkook a nurse comes through one of the doors, pushing a wheelchair. She wheels it over to you and says, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook slips his arm under yours as you stand before slowly helping you lower into the wheelchair. “Would you like to push her back?” the nurse asks Jungkook.

“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather wait out here, and I can call for you when your wife is done.”

“Oh, she’s not—”

“I’d like for you to come if that’s okay? I don’t really want to be alone,” you interject before Jungkook can correct the nurse. She gives Jungkook a polite nod and gestures towards the door she came through.

“Please come right this way. We’ll need to get a quick weight and a urine sample before I can get you into your room, where the doctor will see you shortly.”

Jungkook aids you the best he can, helping you to and from the wheelchair as he can. He almost asks if you want him to come into the restroom with you, but you give him a quick shake of your head before closing the door on him.

What feels like an eternity later, you’re finally settled on a bed with Jungkook sitting in the chair beside it.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “I know I said I wanted you to come back with me, and it’s not that I want you to leave, but please don’t feel obligated to stay. I know you have a lot of other things going on.”

Shifting his chair closer, Jungkook reaches for one of your hands. “Nonsense. I’m glad you called. I feel bad that I haven’t been to as many doctor’s appointments with you. I feel like it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve even seen you. I wish our schedules worked out a little better. Perhaps, as my manager, there’s something you can do about that?” he asks, giving you a jesting wink.

“I was trying to give you more time to go to Jiyoon’s appointments!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

“I know, but in case you forgot, you’re also carrying my child. Don’t get me wrong, though, the texts are great, and I really appreciate the weekly baby bump pictures, but it’d be nice to actually see you. Though, maybe next time, let’s make it not where you’re laid up in a hospital bed, not yet, at least,” he adds on with a low laugh.

This is the first time Jungkook has seen your bump in person. The soft swell under your shirt calls to him, and he wonders if it would be okay to touch it. As if you’re reading his mind, you take the hand that’s wrapped around yours and press it gently over your stomach.

“Kinda weird, huh?”

“No. No, not weird at all,” Jungkook says, being completely raw and honest with you. Jiyoon is touchy about her belly, pun wholly not intended, seeing as she doesn’t let him touch her bump nearly as much as he’d like to. She’s only recently started to show, and it’s hitting her hard, with which Jungkook tries to empathize. He can’t imagine being pregnant and how much a body changes; he’d probably feel things like that, too.

He spends a moment absorbing the feel, trying to imagine the little life growing just a few inches below his hand. Life he helped create. He’s so in awe he could cry…if it wasn’t for the door opening and breaking the momentary spell over him.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll be your attending today. I hear you slipped down the stairs today and are worried your foot might be broken?” The cheery, middle-aged woman chatters away, washing her hands and drying them off before offering one to you and then to Jungkook.

“Yeah. I missed the last step and landed on the side of my foot pretty hard.” You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I should have just waited for the elevator.”

“Oh, ouch. Let’s take a look,” Dr. Lee coos. “May I?” She gestures to the blanket covering your feet. Jungkook helped you remove your shoes once you were in bed and tossed the blanket over your feet so they wouldn’t get cold.

“Of course.”

Dr. Lee pulls back the blanket and gently probes at your foot, turning it slowly side to side to get a better look. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she rotates your ankle.

“A little, not as much as putting pressure on it, though.”

The doctor nods. “I think it might be best if we do an x-ray just to be sure it’s not broken.”

“Won’t that be harmful to the baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to protect your little one.” Jungkook nods his understanding. “Is it your first? You look a little green around the gills, first-time-father jitters.”

Jungkook isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Because, technically…no? Considering Jiyoon is approximately two weeks further along than you are. Would that make her baby his first? A laugh, barely restrained, simmers deep in Jungkook’s chest.

“Something like that,” he finally says, earning another warm smile from the doctor.

“Alright, let’s get started so I can get you two out of here as soon as possible.”

The word ‘soon’ should be a relative term when it comes to hospitals—or a word that hospital staff is barred from using. Jungkook doesn’t mind spending the hours waiting with you. In fact, you’re pretty pleasant company. That’s not to say Jiyoon isn’t when Jungkook attends appointments with her; there’s just a different level of expectation, he thinks. He hopes this baby will have your patience and grace like that.

Jiyoon wants a quiet observer sitting in the corner, whereas you’re welcoming to his insights and curiosities. You haven’t hushed him a single time when he’s voiced a question of any of the medical staff. In fact, it almost seems like you welcome it, comfortable in letting him show his concern for you.

Thankfully, the x-ray showed no break or fracture. You’ve been given a temporary boot to wear for the next week and strict instructions not to overdo it. “Got it,” you say once the nurse has finished explaining everything to you.

“Now, before we discharge you, we would like to have a sonographer brought in to check on the baby. According to your charts and file, you’re at the twenty-week mark now.”

Jungkook stands up, panic worming its way in. “Should we be worried? Is everything okay?”

The nurse gives him a motherly smile. “That’s what we would like to check.” She turns her attention to you. “You didn’t fall on your belly, but with any trauma to the body, it never hurts just to be sure.”

Of course. That makes sense to Jungkook, but he looks to you for confirmation. “Yeah? You want to do that?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Jungkook has only attended two live ultrasounds in all the doctor’s appointments he has been to. He has many printed ultrasound images that are now stuck to the refrigerator at home, one side for Jiyoon and the other for you. But he’s only managed to attend one for Jiyoon and one for you, so this will be a wonderful treat.

“Okay, they’ll be here in just a moment.”

A few moments pass after the nurse leaves the room, and Jungkook allows himself to truly assess his internal feelings. He’s thankful that you’re okay and will feel even more at ease once the ultrasound confirms the baby is alright, too. It’s wild for Jungkook to think that just a few months ago, his life felt like it was on the verge of falling apart. There was a steadily growing rift between him and Jiyoon, and you were just Jiyoon’s best friend.

Now, however, he feels closer than ever to his wife, and you’ve managed to carve out your own little pocket in his heart, too. It’s alarming, yet comforting, to realize that there is something more between you and him—a deepening connection that’s still delicate but growing more solid with each passing day.

“You feeling okay?” Your voice breaks through Jungkook’s reverie.

“Hm? Me? I’m great,” he assures, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You’ve barely let his hand go the entire time, to which Jungkook won’t complain. “Does it hurt much?” Jungkook nods toward the end of the bed, where your feet are back under the blanket.

You shrug. “It’s not so bad while laying here.”

“Hi!” a bubbly voice calls from the door a second before a young blond woman wheels an imaging cart into the room. “Are we ready to get a look at your little one before you guys go home?”

“Yep.” You give Jungkook’s hand a light squeeze. “Excited?” you ask in a soft voice meant only for him.

“Very,” he tells you, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Now, this won’t be nearly as good as if we were in radiology in an exam room, but all we really want is to get a look to make sure everything is okay. Besides, who doesn’t want to take a peek when you get the chance, right?”

The tech, with Jungkook’s assistance, helps you adjust on the bed until you’re in a comfortable position for the ultrasound. Jungkook feels frozen as you tug your blouse up and over your belly, giving him his first real glimpse of the swell in all its glory. It’s one thing to see it through your shirt, another thing entirely to see it like this.

“Cold,” you chuckle as the tech squeezes a glob of contact gel onto your lower belly.

“Sorry about that, these carts unfortunately don’t have the warmers on them. Ah, here we are,” she sing-songs when she smoothes the wand over the gel. “Look at that.”

Jungkook tears his eyes from your face, focusing his gaze on the imaging machine's display screen. His breath stutters in his lungs, and a wave of pure, unrestrained joy washes over him.

“They’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Jungkook watches as an arm moves across the screen, followed by a little kicking foot.

“Seeing them never ceases to take my breath away.” You take the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth.

The tech hums, giving you a soft smile as she moves the wand around to different angles. “No gender yet?” she asks. “I’ll try to be careful here, don’t want to have any spoilers…unless you would like to know?”

It’s hard not to be curious. “Is it not too early to tell?” Jungkook asks.

Turning the screen slightly away from you and Jungkook, the tech says, “Um, nope. Not too early. Everything looks good, though. So, if you’d rather wait, we can get cleaned up and be done here.”

“What do you say?” Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow.

Your teeth leave a dent in your bottom lip as you worry it for a moment. Another thing he thinks would be cute to see his mini-me do. “I kind of want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, loving the fact that you do.

“Okay, wonderful. In that case,” the tech says before moving the screen back and adjusting the wand on your belly. “Take a look here.”

When Jungkook arrives home, the sun has long since gone down, but he’s so high on cloud nine that he can’t bring himself to care. The large smile on his face hasn’t slipped in the slightest.

Jungkook is certain nothing can bring him down. At least, that is, until he walks through the front door of his condo and straight into hell. Jiyoon is sitting at their dining table, her expression completely devoid of emotion.

“Hey, babe. What’s going on?” Jungkook hesitantly asks, eyes sweeping the open layout and taking note that the only light on is the recessed one directly over Jiyoon. His smile slowly fades, replaced with a crease between his brows.

“What’s going on?” she asks in a cold voice.

“Is everything okay?”

Jiyoon sniffs, her eyes narrowing, the first sign of emotion he’s seen since he walked in. “No. Everything is not okay.”

“O…kay,” Jungkook draws the word out, letting his mind flip through its internal catalog, trying to find pieces of the puzzle to put together.

“Where have you been?”

“There was an accident. Did you get the note from—”

“You’ve not answered any of my calls or texts.”

“I sent you a text before I left. I think I misplaced my phone, I can’t seem to find—”

“You missed my appointment!” she sneers, cutting him off once more. “And you did not text me. I haven’t heard from you since this morning.”

Realization hits, and the warmth drains from Jungkook’s face. He was so focused on everything with you, the panic and then the joy, that he completely spaced on everything else he should have done today. But also…

“I swear I texted you to let you know I was going to the hospital. I was going to make sure everything was okay.” As soon as your name falls from his lips Jiyoon shoves back from the table and rounds it, getting in his face. “She slipped at work and thought she might have broken her foot. Namjoon was supposed to give you a note about it since you were in a meeting. She called me. I was worried. I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. Were they able to determine the gender?”

Jiyoon jabs a finger in the center of his chest. “Not. Good. Enough. I’m your wife, not her! You’re supposed to be with me! Instead, you spend all your fucking time with your nose up her ass when you barely even know her!” Jungkook staggers back as her poke turns into a fully-palmed shove. “You’re un-fucking-believable! What a goddamn joke.”

“Jiyoon, that’s not fair. Something could have been wrong with the baby. It was an emergency,” Jungkook says, trying to make Jiyoon see reason.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck you! Why do you care so fucking much about that stupid baby?! All you do is fawn over the photos and re-read her text updates! This,” she gestures wildly at her stomach, “is the baby you should care about! Yet you can’t even show up when it counts.”

“You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.” Jungkook keeps his tone level, refusing to be baited into a knock-down-drag-out with her.

“No!” Jiyoon screams, making Jungkook flinch. “You are ridiculous.” Suddenly a menacing smile cuts across her face. “I bet you slept with her. Didn’t you? That’s it, you’re feeling possessive because you fucked my best friend, and that’s how she got knocked up, isn’t it?”

Jiyoon’s words spark a ringing in Jungkook’s ears. “What?” he whispers, the word barely forming.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook. I know you too well for that. Let’s not forget your little slip-up—” she throws up air quotes as she says that “—the night you supposedly did ICI.”

“I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it!”

Sarcasm is a heavy, bitter layer in Jiyoon’s reply, “You just so happened to touch her clit? Just a little oopsie, so innocent. You’re too nice to outright lie to me, so, of course, you come up with some half-truth, expecting me to believe that you didn’t want it, that you weren’t secretly gnawing at the opportunity to try and seduce my best friend!”

“That is not what happened at all!”

“So I’m supposed to believe my pathetically inexperienced best friend is the one that seduced you, then?”

“What? That’s not what I said at all. No one seduced anyone. You’re being fucking crazy right now. You know I’d never do that to y—”

The crack of Jiyoon’s palm against his jaw stuns him into silence. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!” she screams. “You’d never do that to me? Yeah, right. You’re a man, and that’s what men do! Heaven forbid a woman works hard and spends time away from the home, trying to provide for her family. Is that it? I’m gone too much for your sad little dick, so you have to chase after the first desperate pussy that comes your way?”

Jungkook presses his fingers over the searing heat licking up his jaw where her hand struck him. “Jiyoon, no, it’s not like that at all,” he says, losing his momentum because he’s not sure what he can say at this point to make her see reason. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Fucking my best friend because she’s convenient and out of spite for me being gone so much? No, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because two can play that game, asshole. Enjoy your fucking prize!”

Jungkook jerks back, as if Jiyoon just slapped him again. “What does that mean?”

She laughs, the sound deep and throaty. “This baby—” she seethes, rubbing over the small swell of her belly, voice rising with every word “—it’s not yours, you pathetic bastard!”

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-04-25 ColorMePurplex2

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #dilf jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bangtanwhq #btsfests

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milfloveer · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! Good morning, good afternoon, or good evening! I’d like to know if you accept fanfic suggestions. If so, I’d love to request a fanfic of Lilia Calderu x Female Reader, where the reader is drawing, and Lilia approaches to take a look and asks if she can see the drawing. However, while flipping through some pages, Lilia ends up finding several drawings of herself. It would be similar to that scene from Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse, when Gwen picks up Miles’ sketchbook and sees several drawings of her. (I imagine Lilia’s reaction would be the cutest ever (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)).

Drawings of you

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x fem!reader

Prompt: (request)

Warnings: scars and history about them (reader has whip scars)

A/n: Hiiii!!! Thank you so much for the request!! Hope this is what you've asked for, please tell me what y'all think cause I think I've wandered a little 👉🏻👈🏻 Also I added some more plot hope it didn't ruin it tho.

As we finished the second trial, Alice's trial, and made sure Teen was alright we settled down and made a fire so we could rest for the night.

We sat by the fire and were currently sharing our battle scars, Lilia pointed out to her neck pulling her shirt aside making me shift on my seat "Check this out." we all reached a little closer to see better, my cheeks painted with a soft pink and then Jen asked what we were all thinking "What is that?" and Lilia, still showing it says "Vampire bite. Right before I knock out his other tooth." she says making all of us laugh.

Alice then turns to me "What about you, y/n? Do you have any battle scars?" she asks innocently, I couldn't hide my sudden face drop as my body tenses, my eyes fall to Rio cause she knows what my scars are about, her expression unreadable and then my eyes fall to Lilia's, her eyes curious about what I have to show and so I sigh "I do have them, yes. But they're really ugly and how I got them... Well, let's say it's not as funny as Lilia's." I say softly, preparing them to see my scars. I turn around, my back now facing them, and I lift my shirt, they gasp and an 'Oh gods' left Lilia's mouth.

When I turn around they all have a shocking and scared face, I look down at my intertwined hands as I could not bear their gazes directed at me "It all happened when I was in Salem, I was held captive by a powerful man... Not by power tho, but by money and other things, he was well known and respected by the people. So one day he found out I was a witch and how powerful I was, all because of a stupid mistake I've made." I said sighing in frustration memories of that haunting me "All those years he held me captive he made me do things for him, like cure people, read their fortune and if needed I would do some potions and cast some spells.... Curses even. If not or if I did it wrong he would whipp me over and over again until I had no skin left. It was that or burning in a stake." I tell as they all share a look "Dead almost caught me that time." I scoff taking a glance at Rio. Lilia shifts in her seat, her mouth opens to say something, but Agatha arrives and sits down next to Rio, so Lilia stays silent, but her eyes remain in my figure like she's trying to read me just like a book.

To take the tension out and to divert the attention from me I turn to Agatha "Agatha, do you have any battle scars?" I ask and she smirks pulling her sleeve up, Rio makes a snort knowing full well what she was going to show. Her scar is in the elbow "Knitting needle to the elbow." she says while showing it around as we all made a disgusted face "Ever heard of the daughters of liberty?" she asked and we all answered with 'no' while shaking our heads "Exactly." she says making all of us laugh.

And then, out of the blue, Rio says "I've got a scar." as Agatha quickly replies "No you don't." that makes me raise an eyebrow "Yes, I do." Rio reinforces taking a look at Agatha as she keeps explaining "A long time ago I loved someone. And I had to do something I did not wanna do... Even though it was my job. And it hurt them... She is my scar." she finishes and looks directly at Agatha, not even trying to hide who it was. Agatha then gets up saying she needs to stretch her legs and Rio follows her, leaving us four at the fire.

We all look at each other and shrug, I mean we all knew they had an history, it was clear as water, so we didn't bother. It's not like they're gonna tell us anyway.

I take a glance at the three witches "Y'all get some rest, I'll take the first watch." I tell them and they all nod, Jen and Alice got comfortable against the rock they were, Lilia did the same.

To pass time I conjured my sketchbook and pencil so I could draw something and by something I mean the elder wise witch sleeping a couple of feet in front of me. I couldn't take her out of my mind since the first day I saw her at Agatha's house, her curly hair, her curved nose, her soft looking lips, oh how I would love to kiss them, those dark irises I could drown in a matter of seconds, her angelic voice, the whole of her, I could not stop thinking about her and only her. And I couldn't stop drawing her since, my sketchbook was full of her images, profile, full body, different expressions, her hands, her necklace, I couldn't stop, I won't stop.

I now started to draw her sleeping figure, how her body was curled in as she lays on her side facing me, her hands next to her chest in a protective way. She was in a deep sleep as her now relaxed body only moved with her soft breathing. I lost myself in the lines drawing efficiently every detail of her, capturing her essence as she sleeps... But the pencil started to weigh too much and so did my eyelids, I didn't even realise when I fell asleep, sliding into a deep slumber myself.

The shaking of my body and a soft voice is what makes me aware of my sleeping state and so I jump awake "Whoa, calm down, darling, it's just me." Lilia whispers as the rest of the coven is still sleeping, I frown "What's wrong?" I ask confused, she smiles softly "Nothing, dear, I only wanted to put you in a more comfortable position as you were not looking rather comfortable in that one." she says chuckling lightly, she then looks next to me where my sketchbook fell and she reaches for it "Oh, No-" I say trying to stop her but she's quicker than me "I always wondered what you spend so much time drawing about." she says teasingly and opens the book "Oh-" she says as she flips through the pages.

My face turns red, red as a tomato, as a strawberry, as her lipstick "Lilia-" I breathe out, but she looks at me tenderly "These are amazing, darling. But why me?" she asks innocently and I am left with no words, mouth agape as staring embarrassed at her "Have you seen yourself?" I ask, my voice lower than a whisper. She chuckles and shakes her head "No need to be shy now, dear." and my only reaction is to hide my face behind my hands with embarrassment.

Lilia's soft hands grab mine and put them down, her face really close to mine "I really appreciate it." she says and I almost choke with the air on my throat as she leans in and gives me a tender kiss on my cheek. Well if I wasn't red before, now certainly I was, my heart was ready to jump out of my chest as my head was ready to explode "Now, try to rest, dear, I'll take the next watch." she says laughing softly as she backs up to her previous spot.

How am I gonna sleep after this?!

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borathae · 25 days ago

Text

↳ Index [Snippet #53 - Adorable]

"When Jungkook is so cute by merely exisiting."

Genre: married life!AU, Slice of Life Fluff

Warnings: she thinks that he is the cutest, which he is <3, a cute sushi date with a beach walk afterwards, she bites his nose <3, he is also a lil shit because let's be honest he is, and we all love him so much for it <3, one (1) mention of suggestive themes

Wordcount: 1.1k

a/n: this is inspired by this gifset 🧡 i just love his lil pout and pretty eyes so much :( also, please bear with me. you besties are gonna get longer stories again. christmas time at work is just very stressful and time consuming and i rarely have energy to write :(

Jungkook is minding his own business. He is living his own life, enjoying the moment, existing. And you can’t take your eyes off of him. He isn’t even doing anything. He is merely and simply existing and you still think that he is the most adorable and handsome person that ever existed and ever will exist.

He is wearing a white, oversized long arm shirt today, combining a black bucket hat with it. His bangs cover his forehead and his face carries no makeup. He is entirely comfortable with his look. It is simple, but you think that he is a work of art.

You and he are currently on a fun and relaxing date to a costal restaurant. The theme of the restaurant is local fish and the chef specializes in sushi. She explains each serving in great detail and Jungkook is really enjoying his time here. You have never witnessed him listen so intently and with such attention for such a long time before. Now, don’t misunderstand, this isn’t supposed to be mean. You love him and you also love how easily his attention span can wander. Something as small and simple as a pretty bug by the side of the road can already pull his attention away. Sometimes, even something as simple as a random thought can completely beam him away. You never saw it as a negative trait, but you also have to admit that seeing him so deeply engrossed in sushi knowledge is surprising and wonderful to witness. He pouts his lips without noticing and his eyes are so big in wonder. You just love him so much. His reactions to the food are almost better. You haven’t laughed that much during lunch in a long time. He is so cute.

He would definitely whine if he knew that you are calling him cute. He doesn’t like to be called that way (a lie, he likes to tell you. He definitely likes it, you are sure of it). And the thing is? You can’t blame him.

Jungkook is a strong and muscular man. He is pierced, tattooed and drives a huge Harley. He also knows how to knock someone out with just one punch and the multiple times he had you in his arms and on his cock at the same time are definitely haunting your mind from time to time. Jungkook is just such a Man and he shouldn’t be this cute in your eyes, but he is. He is so tender and beautiful and full of childlike wonder. When he talks to you, he talks in a soft voice and when he holds your hand, he always draws hearts on your skin. He greets and thanks the staff of whatever places you visit and whenever it is possible, he makes their jobs easier by helping out as best as possible.

He is just so warm. Yes, this is how he is. He is warm like a safe hug, warm like hot cocoa, warm like a blanket after a person laid under it for a long time.

And right now, you think that he is unbearably cute in his little outfit with his pretty eyes and pouty lips.

The sushi chef turns her back to you and him again, preparing the next course. Jungkook glances at you from the corner of his eyes. He has been feeling your eyes on him the entire time the chef explained her process. He is starting to get nervous.

When you don’t seem to want to stop any time soon, he finally speaks up.

“Is something the matter, my sweetheart?” he asks, turning his head to you and rubbing your back. You and he are sitting next to each other so it is easy to do.

“I just think that you’re so cute.”

He furrows his brows and pouts, “don’t call me that.”

“I can’t help it. You’re just so…can I bite your nose?”

“No? Why would you wanna bite my nose?” he says genuinely confused and touches his own nose.

“Because if I don’t get to munch on something soon, I will riot.”

He pulls a grimace of judgement.

“You’re a weirdo”, he says and turns his head away.

“Please?”

“No. Not here”, he whines and then the chef returns with the new course.

The sushi date continues. Jungkook is mesmerised while you are mesmerised by him. How can such a masculine, strong man be so cute? And how will you survive not munching on him?

You and he take a walk by the pier after lunch, holding hands and enjoying the ocean breeze. You snap some pictures by the beach, some together and some of each other. Afterwards it is time for ice cream, which you enjoy sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean.

“You are looking at me again”, Jungkook says.

“I can’t help it. You’re so cute today.”

“You know that I could easily bench press you, don’t you?”

“I am aware. I still think that you’re cute. Gosh Kookie, this shirt fits you so well. You’re looking so snuggly.”

You cuddle into him, hugging his waist and resting your cheek on his shoulder. Jungkook drapes his arm around you, smiling shyly.

“Can I really not bite your nose?” you mumble.

“Why do you wanna bite my nose?”

“Because.” You poke his nose. “No nose has ever nosed as hard as your nose does.”

He scoffs, “okay? Whatever that may mean.”

“It means that I wanna bite your nose. Please?”

“But why? It’s my nose, I need it to breathe.”

“I’m not gonna do it hard. Just a little nibble. Once. Please?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“A cute nose bite?”

“Yeah.” He laughs. “That’s not convincing.”

“You get to take two bites of my ice cream?”

He squints his eyes, letting out a long, “hmmmmmm.”

“Three bites?”

“Okay fine, we have a deal.”

“Yes! Oh my god, I’m so happy”, you exclaim and cup his cheeks to turn his head to you.

With a racing pulse, you lean closer so you could finally bite his nose. You have wanted to do this ever since this date started. He has such a pretty and biteable nose. You make sure to be as gentle as possible. All you need is for your teeth to feel his nose just once. You don’t want to hurt him.

Jungkook grumbles in faux annoyance, giving you a pout afterwards.

“Happy?”

“Very. This was the highlight of my day, seriously.”

He chuckles, “if you say so. Now give me ice cream.”

“There you go.”

Jungkook practically sucks in your ice cream like a vacuum, leaving you with an empty ice cream cone and an agape mouth.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, “what the hell?”

He chuckles with a full mouth, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“You’re so annoying”, you whine, nudging his chest.

“You said three bites. Never said how big they can- ow, ah, brain freeze.”

“Serves you right, you ice cream thieving egg.”

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leafostuff · 8 months ago

Text

One Heck of a Joyride[Ft. WooAh's Nana]

Word Count: 14-15K~ words

Collab with @octoberautumnbox

My Author's Notes: we are so excited to finally release this fic for yall, me and box have been working on this fic since the end of FEBRUARY (almost 3 months) and we have been working on it so hard to make it the best it can be so I really hope you will enjoy this fic

@octoberautumnbox's author notes: there u have it! took the better part of three months, but it was really fun to work on :DDDD Thanks to leafo for making sure i didn't slack LMAO

No tags since it is too long but this is fluff and smut

Thanks: of course @octoberautumnbox for working with me on this amazing collab. @4m1rz for being my lovely beta reader and @libraryoferos for being my motivation to not be lazy on this fic

And so without any further preface, let's get started, shall we?

================================================

“And I expect you all to get along this year. Leave the past behind you as you all face a new future together.” Sporadic applause rises slowly from the crowd and dies down twice as quickly. The dean sighs away from the mic and drifts offstage, leaving everyone disinterested in the rest of the program. It all goes by in a blur, and finally ends right as the air conditioners start to fail against the heat of a summer not-yet-ended.

Your attention is drawn away from the droning on and on from the stage and towards the many characters that populate the theater with you. You catch glimpses of people talking with their friends, a few crazy hair colours, and the occasional sleeping student who’s no doubt already saving up hours for the all-nighters to come.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone in the front row with both people sitting next to her conspicuously leaning away. They seem to want to get up and leave her there by herself, but the way she gives no reaction despite the jeering tone coming from her seatmates leads you to think that she’s asleep herself.

~~~

“So yeah, That's the tour, bucko. Check the map if you’re ever lost.” Your student tour guide points at the multi-colored document on your phone. Vaguely you recall the various little symbols: which classrooms you can sleep in, which bathrooms are haunted, which shortcuts are best, all of the must-know basics of college life.

As you continue scanning around the campus, the girl from the assembly catches your attention again. She has her hood up this time, but you can tell it’s her; her quick pacing and how she is not looking around at anyone making you believe that she’s trying her best to hide.

“What about that one? Do we not talk about her?” you ask, pointing at the oblivious figure walking past, drawing eyes and whispers much like your own.

Your guide scoffs at the absurd idea. “That’s Nayeon. And no, we don’t. She fucked up last year, big time. Got a bunch of us in trouble. So stay away from her, she has those goody-two-shoes germs.” he says, walking away as while signaling you to follow him.

You wonder what she could have done to gain such a reputation. She was adorable earlier with her hood off, but the way people talk about her makes you want to steer clear against your own will.

~-~-~-~

Curiosity ends up killing the cat, and you manage to gather bits and pieces of the incident from last year from gossip, class lore, and even the way some professors acted:

“She’s the luckiest bitch in the world with not a single shred of common sense. Seriously, who goes and rats on a hundred other students like that?”

“The test incident shows she only looks out for herself, even if it means bringing down the entire class.”

“There’s really no excuse for it. You have the answer key in your hand, of course you take a picture! You don’t just leave it where it’ll incriminate some other innocent loser and say you’re only trying to do the right fucking thing.”

The sheer number of factoids you gather from the wild bunch of sources only slightly make sense. Unfortunately, trying to piece them together only took up more space and brainpower which you should have used to study for your midterms coming up. Keep to yourself and you can just barely pass and move on; there is no time for college drama.

After the exam, you approach the professor to ask about possibly bumping up your grade. You decided to maybe half-ass an extra credit assignment and get the lowest passing score, but you resolve to just see where it goes. While lost in thought, you nearly bump into the small girl in front of you. already talking to the teacher, and by the way they’re whispering, it seems like it’s something serious.

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here anymore, Miss Kwon,” the professor admits as he takes off his glasses and rubs his nose bridge. “None of this was necessary. I thought we wanted to leave all this behind us.”

Nayeon looks down to her toes in defeat. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was just thinking, maybe I’d get sent out of class this time.” Her voice cracks, giving away her vulnerable state: she’s near tears but trying to fight everything back to look tough. Sadly for her, you think, none of it is working.

“Look, just try to lay low. It’s your last year before all of this starts to not matter anymore.” Your professor finally puts his glasses back on and looks Nayeon straight in the eye. “Trust me, you’re better off keeping your head down. You’ll be fine.”

She walks despondently off to the right and out the door. Your feet choose to follow her, but a sudden jolt restores your common sense. “And you, Mister New Guy, what seems to be the problem? Beside your dismal score, that is.”

You have a slight feeling you are not getting a higher score.

~-~-~

After talking it out fruitlessly with the professor, he releases you from his classroom and you make your way out. The conversation with him didn’t take long, and so you arrive to a few jeers and muffled laughter once you step outside.

“Serves her right. Trying all this bullshit isn’t gonna change anything.”

“Seriously, cheating on a test she obviously studied for? How dense could she be?”

“I bet she just wants to show us up. She’ll study and then cheat, then she gets perfect marks on the test and she’ll show us she’s untouchable again.”

You find it hard to believe that Nayeon would resort to something as convoluted and pointless as that, but then again, you really don’t know her to make a judgment. Whatever she was thinking, you agree that it was idiotic to pull that sort of thing, even if you didn’t see any of it.

The weather on campus is the right mix of cloudy and sunny, with rays of light shining respectfully on the grass and pavement of your college courtyard. Something tells you that people-watching by the gym feels like the perfect lunchtime activity for a day like this, so you find your way to the properly noisy setting and look for a spot out of the way.

You settle on a spot by the side of the gym with the perfect amount of shade and wind, but you’re instead drawn further back to the rear by strange and irregular noises. Turning the last corner, you’re met with a surprising figure.

It was Nayeon, sitting with her back against one of the walls, her entire body curled up like a ball. You slowly inch closer and closer to her, and you realize the strange noises that you heard before were instead sniffles and cries coming from the lonely girl. Finally as you get close enough, Nayeon feels your presence and raises her head.

Her eyes were full of tears, who knows for how long she had been crying, and you could feel the sadness coming from her eyes; they were trying to tell you something, however, it's hard to figure out what. Her expression of sadness didn't stay for long though as soon enough her expression turns angry when you get closer to her, squatting down to look at the girl from a closer angle.

“Please, go away. Leave me alone.” The small girl pushes you away, but with her hand preoccupied wiping away her tears, she can’t do much to get rid of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You have the nerve to do what you did last year and still show your face?” The anger in your voice catches you off guard. Since when did you take it personally when it came to her?

“Oh fuck off, new guy,” she taunts. “So I’m fucking hiding here, what more do you want?” She tries to act tough again, but it’s painfully apparent to both of you that it isn’t working. At this point, you really do just want to leave her alone. And just like every other time, nothing’s stopping you. So why are you staying?

You breathe a sigh of defeat at the situation you find yourself in. “Look, I don’t have any sort of beef with you personally, but come on. This is pathetic. You’re only embarrassing yourself by doing all this bullshit that isn’t like you at all.”

“And what if it’s not like me?!” Her shout sends a few birds hiding in nearby bushes to take off. This sort of language takes you aback from her; Little Miss Perfect Kwon Nayeon, top honour student, teacher’s favourite pet, hating herself?

“I… I don’t like being me, and I don’t like what I am.” She wipes her tears again and tries (and fails) to look you in the eyes once more. “So if you’re another member of the ‘I hate Nayeon’ club, well… Better show the club president some respect.”

She sits back down with her back against the wall. Nayeon's eyes are wet for the last time before she wipes them off and faces her lack of tears.

Normally in situations like those you would just walk away and ignore people like those for the rest of the school year, but for some reason with Nayeon in front of you, showing herself being weak, fragile, and sad, something about her makes it so you can't leave the situation alone. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you have to know why.

“No,” you turn back to her as a determined expression is painted on your face.

“What?”

“I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me.” You stand your ground, arms crossed, and Nayeon can't seem to be any more pissed than before. “What is going on? What do you mean you don't like yourself?” you ask.

For a while, no one dares to speak another word, and you wonder if what you have here is an argument. For a good few seconds, she stares at you intently as silence hangs heavy in the air.

“You think,” she says defeatedly between sniffles, “that I'm Little Miss Perfect, right? Like everyone calls me ‘the straight-A girl?’ Well I’m not, and I’m tired of everyone saying so.” She fishes out a very used handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her eyes of tears, only for them to be replaced by more.

“It can’t be that bad, Nayeon. People look up to you, I’m sure.” You finally notice your alarms are blaring and you’re put on high alert. What you just said was the exact wrong thing to say, and you’re at critical risk of involving yourself in her messy situation more than you should.

She side-eyes you, calculating if you’re being sincere or not. She stuffs her handkerchief back into her pocket carelessly as if knowing that she’ll only pull it back out again soon. She looks down at her hands, deep in thought, looking like she’s trying to grapple with something she might regret.

Once she’s done, she fumbles around in her backpack. She fishes out a tiny black notebook she seems to keep so well hidden, on the cover of the notebook the words ‘Nana’s Bucket List’ are scrawled in big, bold, immature-looking letters.

“Throughout all of my life, I always wanted to be the top student, the best of the best like no one ever was, and I succeeded, you know…” she scoffs. “Top marks in Elementary, Middle school, and Valedictorian in high school.” She sighs and tries to fight back more tears, though you notice she’s a bit more successful this time, with a bit of hope and yearning in her eyes.

"But on the other side… The other side seems so great. I mean, I see all these movies and books about college life," she says in between residual sobs and hiccups. She opens the notebook, showing you a not-so-long list, and even though it's hard to see the text from the small size of the writing, you can make out a little bit of what’s written on the paper.

Cheat on a test

Get drunk

Party all night

Dye my hair

Sing in an Open stage show

Sneak into a Public pool

Shoplifting

You know...

Most of what you read makes zero sense, and you’re half-convinced this girl is just crazy. You stare at the scribbled letters, hoping to draw more meaning from them, but Nayeon shuts the little notebook in your face and starts putting it back away.

"I want to do them all. Drinking, breaking glass bottles, partying, all that stuff," she explains dreamily. She zips up her bag and pats it down, making sure it’s secure beside her, and turns her attention back to you, “I want to live like a normal girl, you know what I mean?” she asks, you are not sure if its because of the tears, but her eyes seem to glitter.

"That's very cliche, Nana," you jab at her, making fun of the nickname she gave herself.

"That's all I know, though. Please." She takes your hand in between hers and looks up at you, teary-eyed and seemingly begging for her life.”This wouldn’t kill you, all I’m asking for is some help crossing stuff off of the list.”

You hate how well it works on you: her big, round eyes, her adorable little pout, her cute pleading voice. It goes against everything you know, and even now you’re sure you don’t want to get involved in whatever this would turn out to be. And yet, despite even the most deeply ingrained lessons you’ve learned for yourself, all it takes is a brief moment for it to come crashing down.

With a disbelieving sigh and a sense of regret creeping in, you ask: “What’s in it for me?”

~-~-~-~

You take a bite of your burger and breathe out. Cheap bun, dubious patty, artificial cheese, it all takes you back to a past life. You're left to momentarily wonder how you ended up where you are now, and slowly it comes back to you. You messed up.

"So, about the list." Nayeon sets down her cup, ice cubes clinking against each other as they swirl around her soda. "I already did one. So that’s one less thing for us to do”.

"I can do that much math, Nayeon. What do you take me for?" You chomp down on a few fries grumpily.

"I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is there are just a few more months left until graduation, so we'll need to be quick. We can’t be lazy about this." She pulls out the little black notebook and flips to an unfamiliar page. The words "cheat on a test" has doodles of a devil's horns and wings and tail around it, with lots of eyes and ears decorating the rest of the ruled paper. Above it, the poster you recognize from the movie "Bad Genius" is copied, albeit crudely, in a thought bubble.

"I did this one last year, don't ask. Anyway, this next one should be easy enough." She flips to the next page, showing a couple pictures of beer cups and wine bottles, surrounding the words “Get Drunk.”

“Wait, is this the ‘incident’ people hate you for? What even happened there?” You eat more of your fries, trying to hide your curiosity. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and she nips the conversation in the bud.

“That’s not anything you need to know. What matters is now and the future. Now are you with me or not?” She snaps the notebook closed and yanks it away from your sight, back into the pocket she keeps it in.

“I can’t help if I don’t know what exactly your deal is,” you say disappointedly. You pick up your own drink and take a sip, and the cool soda washes over your tongue and throat on the way down. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be with everything that’s going on.”

For a moment, you catch Nayeon’s gaze on you, dumbfounded. You could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she tries to process your logic, but it takes a while. As she thinks, though, you take a particular interest in how she handles it: her mouth is hanging slightly ajar and her eyes are only half-focused on wherever they’re pointed. You notice how delicately her bangs fall on her forehead, how her eyebrows furrow and crease, how she tries finding the right words yet can’t find the message she wants to send. Odd things to notice, surely, and yet here you are. You messed up.

It starts coming back to you. The jeers from your classmates as you walk down the hall grow louder in your ears, and you fight against your hands trying to cover them with the knowledge that none of it is real anymore. The tears you fight back all the time surface for another rematch, but with your current state, you may be at a disadvantage.

Fortunately, she shocks you back into reality. “Hey, are you listening? I’m feeding you, so the least you could do is pay attention.” She bites a small chunk of her burger and chews, and you notice how her cheeks puff slightly and the corner of her mouth is decorated with a dollop of mustard.

Cute.

1 + 2. Get drunk + Party All Night

“God, this is stupid,” you think to yourself, exiting the convenience store. With a plastic bag in your right hand and your phone in your left hand, checking the time and the address Nayeon sent you earlier today. Finding it was easier than you expected, and you tried not to let the walk to her dorm set any expectations for you.

You bring your knuckles to the wooden door and make three quick raps. It swings open very quickly and you’re dragged into the cozy space without even the slightest chance to take off your shoes.

“You took forever! Did you bring the stuff?” She looks all over you and pats you down, looking for what you brought her.

“Get off, will you? I put them all in my bag like a normal person.” You swing your backpack off your shoulder and carefully place it onto a nearby table. Nayeon takes a seat and waits excitedly for what you brought for the two of you. From your bag, you produce three bottles of soju, three five-packs of Yakult, six cans of beer, and four bags of chips. She eyes each item with absolute interest as they leave your backpack, and she hardly contains herself once you finish and zip up your bag once more.

“Okay, so how does this work?” Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and while waiting for your instructions, it was clear that as much as she was excited, she was also inexperienced.

“First off, get us some shot glasses and a pitcher. Oh, and a can opener.” Nayeon bolts off to the cooking area, and you can hear drawers opening and shutting loudly. You start getting concerned when you hear plates start to clatter against each other, but thankfully it dies down quickly and she returns with two small glasses, a decently sized pitcher, and a can opener.

“Shit. I meant bottle. Bottle opener.” Without even a hint of annoyance, she rushes back off into the kitchen and, after a few more rummaging sounds, she returns with the correct item. She really must not know what she’s doing.

“Come on, show me!” She shoves the bottle opener into your hand, and you’re left with no choice.

“Don’t you have a roommate we have to worry about?” You pop the cap off one of the soju bottles and then tear the aluminum top off two bottles of Yakult. “She’s out with her own friends. Hurry!” Despite her starting to get on your nerves, you pour all three into the pitcher and swirl them around together. Once you’re done, you pour the mixture into each of the glasses until they’re full.

“Bottoms up, Nayeon.”

“Bottoms up!”

The both of you down your drinks: yours slowly crawls down your throat, but hers disappears straight into her stomach. She reels at the burning lines left by the alcohol all over her esophagus and takes a bit of time to recover.

“Whoa, that was,” she says, and a burp erupts from her mouth, “intense.” She sways a little bit to the left before righting herself, and then overcompensates to lean to the left again.

“Easy there, champ. We’ve got two more bottles to go through.” You pour another shot for each of you, hers first and then yours, and raise your glass once more.

“Open the chips now,” you tell her. “This’ll be less dreadful with food.”

Both of you down your shots at the same time, and Nayeon reels at the sensation once more.

“Does that get easier?” Her speech is slowly starting to slur, the poor thing. “I’m kinda feeling a little something right now, too…”

“Yes, but only if you keep going at it, idiot. Don’t down everything so quickly.” Grab one of the bags of chips yourself, open and present it to Nayeon on the center of the table.

“Eat. You’ll hate this less.” You take a handful of chips and bring all of them into your mouth. Once you do, you raise your eyebrow at her to tell her to do the same.

“Isn’t… *hic* being hungry the thing for… faster drunk?”

“Apparently so, Nayeon. I don’t even know what I expected from you.” You take another shot, alone this time. She tries to pour her own shot, but fails miserably at getting the liquid anywhere near the inside of her shot glass. It’s adorable how she tries, though.

You pour her another shot despite a small voice telling you maybe she isn’t cut out for this much in such a short time. You shove the voice aside in favor of Nayeon’s own words: “We pregame, drink a little, and then we go. Party starts at 7:30, so we leave here by 7 o’clock.” Her shot glass fills with the drink, and you place it in front of her, making sure at least to keep an eye out for what might happen next.

She successfully picks up the glass and, sans the spills she made on the glass's way from the table to her mouth, drinks everything she could. She slams the glass onto the table in no light movement and you have a slight inkling of regret at letting her do that to herself.

“You… We have to… Fuck.” Nayeon’s head droops and she catches her face with her hands. She may have underestimated how strong soju is, or maybe what being drunk actually does to a person. A groan emanates from behind her palms, and you notice she’s having trouble holding herself up.

“Aren’t we going out after this? You might wanna slow down, idiot.” You pour yourself another shot and drink it leisurely. Nayeon tries leaning back onto the chair, and she finally pries her hands away from her eyes. She does a few quick blinks, and she tries to focus her sight on you. Her head sways a little bit, and it dawns on you that you may have overestimated her.

“I’m okay… just… we have to go.” She tries to stand up, but she wobbles dangerously and you have to catch her. Dive under her and take on her weight, thankfully not too heavy, and keep her from hitting the floor. She mumbles a bit about something you can only kind of understand, but it's enough to guide your next decision.

“Forget it,” you grunt as you plop her back into her chair, “we're not going anywhere.” An exasperated sigh leaves your lungs, and you head off to the kitchen to return with a large bottle of cold water.

“No… we have to go. We'll be late.” Nayeon tries to get up again, but there's no strength left in her body. She sits motionlessly, probably thinking that she's already stood up, and it gives way to a confused look on her face as to why she's still in the same place.

You fill a proper-sized glass with water and hand it to her, which she drinks obediently. You fill her palm with potato chips which she also eats without objection. The way her jaw moves, clumsy and slow, signals a threat that she might just fall over any minute.

You move your chair to her side and sit there, allowing Nayeon to lean her head on you. Her hair covers her reddening face, and her hiccups arrive in growing force.

“If you're still in there, Nayeon,” you say quietly, “we're not going out. I can't look after you this closely at a party.” All she does to respond is nod. Her hiccups are punctuated intermittently with sniffles, which you take as a sign that she knows she has no power left to object.

Still, you feel bad for her as her plans fall through. Despite the responsible thing to do, put her to bed and leave, you kick yourself mentally before deciding to stay anyway.

“Movies and snacks?”

~-~-~-~

Before you know it, the night goes by just as quick. You go through the list of movies she’d always wanted to watch: The Truman Show, The Great Gatsby, Mean Girls, and even then there’s still a few left on her list. You could tell she was watching properly halfway through the first, and that was the telltale sign that she’d sobered up.

You drink a bit more with her in between movies, and she would frequently pause to get up and put on a song to dance to. “It keeps me awake,” she said, “I can’t fall asleep before the good part happens.” The songs she put on are generic pop and the kinds you skip whenever they come up, but you let it pass for tonight.

At some point, she pulls out an old Wii and challenges you to Mario Kart. “I am undefeated in this game. I’m not even that good, everyone else that challenged me just sucked.” You take her up on her offer, and the match begins. You try and almost get ahead of her in a few of the turns, but she would always take back her lead at the slightest opportunity of you hitting a wall or missing an item. And the way she glows with pride every single time she crosses the finish line before you do, the sudden brightness that fills her face when she wins race after race, the confidence it gives her that she isn’t actually the worst person in the world, all of it is a sight to behold. People may see Kwon Nayeon as an arrogant goody-two-shoes traitor, but the way you see her now is different: just someone with a past to outgrow.

Right as the last movie’s credits start rolling, mischievous thin rays of dawn sunlight slip past the tiny gaps in the curtains. Both you and Nayeon have little energy left for anything else, and you maybe think it’s time to call it a night and go home.

“Let me walk you out,” she says while trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for a little bit longer. You both get up and walk to the door, and as it opens your faces are flooded with a world right before it wakes. Dewdrops sit respectfully on leaves and blades of grass, birds are only starting to stretch their wings, and the crisp morning air fills your lungs with a calm grace.

You turn back to Nayeon, who you find is still admiring the dawn, and grasp her elbow. “Sit with me.”

You both squat down and take your seats again on her doorstep. Clouds roll in and dot the sky, wandering on the blank canvas of today, eagerly waiting for sunlight to block out. The sun peeks over the horizon and the first proper rays start to arrive, spreading warmth where they land. Nayeon meets your eyes one last time, and the pair of you find a sleepy and still a bit drunk person when you look at each other.

“Well,” you say as if it was a farewell, “good night, Nayeon. And good morning.”

“Good night,” she giggles back, “and good morning to you too.”

3. Sneak into a Public Pool

“Are you sure about this?” Nana’s tone is subdued by fear. Her voice shakes and struggles to be as quiet as possible, but at the same time you get the feeling that if you didn’t need to be quiet, she’d be yelling right now and trying to get the both of you to leave.

“Can you please shut up? I’m trying to focus!” You find the first of the pins and push it out of the way. For a moment, you lament how restricted you are: this could have been such a simple lock to break, replace even, but the girl dragging you around was deathly insistent on leaving as little damage and evidence as possible.

“You shut up! I'm whispering here!” Anger rises in her voice, and you almost feel anger in yours too. You're able to stop it though, and you remind yourself that if ever a guard was on watch that actually cared about this place, they'd be easily outrun.

The lock presents more of a challenge than you thought; despite the agonizingly simple solution of snapping its shackle, its inner mechanisms are harder to crack for whatever reason. Taking it pin by pin is supposed to be an easy task, but the warm and humid air and the incessant nagging seem to debilitate you. It’s such a nice night out for a swim, why make this any harder than it needs to be?

After what seemed like eternity you finally manage to pick the lock, sighing in relief as the both of you head forward quietly, but cautiously looking side to side just in case. The metal-grate door swings open slowly, avoiding any creaking sounds it may make otherwise, and the both of you enter the pool area.

“I gotta say Nayeon, this went better than I thought it would,” you say, both of you looking at the rectangular box of water which unlike during the day, was completely still, no waves, no splashes, just the water. It glistened and reflected all manner of light: the pool lights above and below the water, the yellow street lamps far off on the sidewalk, and the moon overhead, singing tones of wonder and mystery to those touched by its borrowed glow.

Off to the side, you find Nayeon fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her head whips round incessantly as she tries to keep a lookout of the surroundings rather poorly. Sigh a deep one, and finally go over and take your seat next to her.

“Thanks… gimme a sec.” She finally grabs the hem decisively. The fabric crumples a bit under her grip and folds as it's pulled up.

You can’t help but watch as the shirt starts to leave her body, revealing a slim and toned tummy underneath. Your breath hitches as it crawls higher, reaching her face and obscuring her sight, and she inadvertently shows off a dark purple sports bra that’s… a size too small. Your gaze lingers on her cleavage and the flesh of her boobs lightly spilling out of the garment.

Nana turns around and you’re treated with the view of a beautiful back and shoulders to die for. The way her body twists and turns in the slightest ways to negotiate the shirt off of her form is the most sensual dance you’ve ever seen.

And you realize you’re staring. Fortunately for you, she doesn’t seem to notice, and she continues on to fold the shirt properly before setting it next to her sports bag. You opt not to risk staring any longer, and you decide to get rid of your own shirt. You strip quickly, and your shirt flies off approximately near Nayeon’s things in a messy pile by itself.

Sit on the edge of the pool, dip your feet into the water. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be this warm, you think, but whatever the case may be, it feels like a tea that’s just about to go cold. This, coupled with the humid air and quiet atmosphere, makes for a perfect night to spend on whatever this is with her.

She joins you and takes her seat at the edge of the pool, and in every other situation, you’d ask her to back off a bit. Instead, as she lays her head on your shoulder and takes your hand in between hers, you lose your steel in the most important of times.

“I’m scared.” Her eyes never leave the water, taking in the light dancing on its surface. Her face is fraught with worry, and while you know it’s for no good reason, you nevertheless try to reassure her.

“Yeah, someone might jump out of the bushes and arrest us for swimming in a swimming pool,” you say mockingly. “They’re gonna take us to court on the charges of ‘using something the way it was meant to be used’ and we’re gonna get life sentences. When we’re all old and wrinkly they’re gonna sit us in the electric chair.”

“Okay, I get your point. But still, though, I’m scared.” She grips your hand tighter, and for some reason you can’t resist her. Place your other hand over hers and try to calm her down. Nana takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, and finally looks at you with a reserved grin.

“Alright, I’m good. Let’s go.”

You feel her hand on your back, and warmth spreads from her palm. Her smile grows just a bit wider and her eyes follow suit. Her teeth show themselves from between her lips, and you’re almost tempted to dive right in.

Lucky for you, she helps. The hand on her back suddenly applies more pressure, pushing you to the pool and causing a splash going all directions. Collect your thoughts and raise your head above the water to see Nana, face full of laughter, right before she dives in the water with you.

It takes a second, but her head resurfaces and you find yourself relieved. She catches her breath once more, and before you know it, you're met with a faceful of chlorinated water. “What are you staring at?” She says between hearty laughs.

Wipe the water from your face, find the humor. Laugh with her, and face her properly.

Another shade of Kwon Nayeon. Granted, it's one with no makeup and way less clothes than usual, but none of that takes away from her natural, elegant beauty. It's captivating, the way her figure glides around the water, the way the cool night air wisps around the pair of you, the way the moon throws its rays around the world, your world, so haphazardly.

Another faceful of water, and you snap out of your daze. “Creepy ass,” she snorts happily. She splashes you again, and this time you fight back.

“Race you around the pool.” You start paddling, and the water grows loud against your ears. She says something back to you and starts paddling herself to catch up.

“Yeah,” you think to yourself, “whatever this is with her.”

4. Sing in an Open Mic

“Another night, another goal,” you muse, sitting in your car with Nayeon in the passenger seat. It has become quite a routine that every time she wants to do something on her bucket list she asks you to pick her up. You don’t mind too much — she pays for gas after all.

“Where do we go this time?” Nayeon just shoves her phone in your face, showing a map with directions to some bar out of town. She looks at you expectantly, but without any more information than what you’re currently getting, you’re at a loss for what she’s trying to make you see.

“A club.”

“Exactly.”

“We already did ‘get drunk.’”

“I know. This is different.”

“How so?”

“Take me here. Make me sing. Take me home.”

The pieces connect in her head and she pulls out the notebook again. She flips to a page you again haven’t seen, and when she shows it to you you’re treated to the sight of ��Open Mic Stage” in graffiti-style letters and the poster of “Wedding Singer” scrawled in the bottom right corner of the page.

“If you have the map, why not just do this yourself? You didn’t need to wait for me. If anything, I’d only laugh at how bad you might be.” You push away her phone and notebook, choosing to return your attention to the sidewalk instead. The boba tea place you keep hearing about is nearby.

“That’s the thing,” Nayeon interjects again, “I have been there before. I listened to all the people singing, and they’re… some are good. I don’t know if I am, but I got shy at the last minute and I never even got near the stage.” She grabs your sleeve and your attention. “I need you to make me sing. Don’t let me chicken out.”

You shrug, “Sure, let's do it.”

~-~-~-~

Taking up two seats at the bar, you try and seem to fail at helping Nayeon calm down. Her guitar rests against the bartop beside her while she fans herself hurriedly with her hand. “It’s so nerve-racking… I knew this was a mistake,” she adds before turning back and trying to leave the place, however, you stop her in her tracks

“Come on, you worked so hard for this,” you say, recalling the number of recordings she sent you: one for each take she was doing. “You can do this,” you continue reassuring her, knowing she’s more ready than ever. At the same time, you could see your friend get more nervous by the second, now taking more sips of her water bottle.

“But what if I miss a chord, or I sing badly? Everyone will laugh at my mist–'' You know at this point she’ll only spiral to worse and worse thoughts, so you nip it in the bud and stop her right there. You take both her shoulders in your hands, making Nayeon stop her nervous rambling, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“I believe in you, Nana. just take a deep breath.” You stop to let her do as you say, taking a deep breath in and slowly breathing it out. The tension leaves her with each breath she takes, and you find a moment to keep her stable. “Good, I am sitting right here, not leaving for any reason, so if you feel nervous, just find me. Look at me.” Her gaze softens at your promise, and her lips form a tiny smile in response to your words.

Hearing the current open mic singer finishing up his song, you send her off with some final words. “Your turn now, Nana. Break a fucking leg.” You leave her shoulders as her smile slowly starts to grow.

You watch her heading toward the stage, taking her guitar out of the cover, and taking her seat on the chair in front of the mic. “Hey,” she starts, “I am Nayeon… and I’m gonna sing Spring Day by BTS… I, uhh, hope you enjoy.”

She takes one last deep breath as you find her gaze on you. You return a reassuring smile, and Nayeon’s eyes fly back to her guitar. She strums her first chord, and the crowd’s welcoming applause rises.

youtube

“I’m missing you, when I say that I miss you more, I’m missing you…” Nayeon’s fingers strum the strings delicately, and it enchants you how graceful and in control she is of her instrument. The wood and metal of her guitar work together under her guidance to produce a beautiful sound, one you feel deep inside you'd never have heard the beauty of if not here, not now.

The way her lips move to articulate her words is heavenly, like she has you under a benevolent spell to bring you a rare sort of peace. It captivates you how she carries herself; behind her tough outer shell is a scared and confused layer, which hides a soft and optimistic core and wants to chase a brighter, happier future by cherishing the present. You marvel at your luck, that you were permitted to see so much of her, and how openly she welcomed you in when all she knew was aloneness and to shut people out.

“Snowflakes falling from the sky, are drifting further by and by…” Her heavenly voice draws you in, and it commands your attention like it speaks directly to your soul. The sound of Nayeon tugs on your heartstrings, pulling you closer to its source, and you let yourself get whisked away.

And to its source you look; find a girl with courage like you’d never seen. See Kwon Nayeon in a different light than the harsh monotones of the classroom fluorescents, but in a spotlight that she takes up with everything in her soul. It’s a different shade of her: a shade of Nayeon that only you could comprehend, a part of her that only you had the privilege to understand.

“I breathe you out there somewhere, like smoke in the air…” The space grows warmer, like a hearth welcoming you home. Your surroundings quiet down as Nayeon pulls them deeper and deeper with her subconscious command: rest, lay down your worries and fly for the moment towards your peace. You look around, and every fellow face in the crowd you see has their eyes fixed on Nayeon’s performance; they’d never know it, but it’s the debut of a person coming into a whole new life free of regret and cowardice. It’s Nayeon building herself up from the rubble of a past that she aims to forget.

“Flowers blooming towards the sky, has winter finally passed by?” The noise of the world seems to die down, as if just you and Nayeon are the only two things in existence. The pace of her strumming slows, as do the lyrics that escape her mouth. Every note she produces is deliberate, gentle, comforting, and for once you feel like you’re able to imagine a brighter tomorrow like her.

With her.

The song draws to a close, and she looks all over the crowd as they start to clap. You can't help but join in. Nayeon just bows lightly, and you can feel how happy she is that everything went well in her song. As she steps off the stage, you leave your spot and head toward her.

With both of you only a couple of steps apart, you chuckle lightly, “Well it wasn't so bad was—” You were stopped, caught off guard by your friend, dashing to you with open arms and crashing into your chest, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace.

No words are spoken; both of you just stand there, hugging each other, her face nuzzling your chest as you could faintly feel her heartbeat. You were quite surprised with Nayeon being so open with you, since it was just a short time ago you made your promise to help.

“Thank you…” she says, now releasing you from her embrace, noticing how her eyes shed small tears, that you couldn't figure out if they are tears of sadness, or happiness.

“... Always here for you Nayeon.”

“Please… call me Nana,” she says. She takes her notebook and crosses off another line from her bucket list, and as she walks toward the exit, you make way for the people coming by to greet her for the performance.

You can't help but wonder… has something changed after that performance?

5. Shoplifting

“Pick something already, it's not that hard,'' you remark impatiently while tapping your feet. Both of you are staring at the snack section of the local convenience store near your college, and Nana hovers her hand over the selection of snacks to look for the perfect one.

“Stop rushing me, I'm trying to choose which one will not get me caught,” she replies, still focused. The veteran petty thief in you groans, recalling your highschool days where nicking a cigarette or two (or ten) every once in a while gave you back huge chunks of your monthly budget. You miss the simplicity of it, and you once again find the restriction of being so careful more annoying than anything else. How come for Nayeon it is such a big struggle to steal one snack? You shoot the question up to whichever god might be listening, and you even half-expect an answer back.

“You are thinking about it too much, the cashier is probably not gonna notice even if you stole something that made noise,” you add, tapping your foot rapidly, like you were some parent spending too long in the toy section.

“Well, please forgive me, oh thug master, it’s my fault that I never did that shit before!” Her whispers are loud enough for you to hear clearly, your less-than-welcoming attitude leading her to take a deep sigh.

“Fine, if you want to make it easier, do the buy one steal one method,” you explain.

“The what?”

“Well to make it simpler than it already is, you dolt, you take two things, one you buy normally, and the other one you don't pay for,” you added as it seems to all make sense in Nayeon’s head. “Defeats the fucking purpose why we’re here, but really, the longer we spend here to leave with just four things, the more anyone will suspect us.”

Despite your best efforts to hurry her, they all seem to only make her take even longer. Her brow furrows deeper, as if trying to form lasers in her eyes to burn holes through the plastic wrappers.

Your patience wears thinner by the moment, and you resolve to isolate before you lose it completely. “So if you’ll excuse me, I will get my shit and meet you outside,” you say, leaving her alone in the aisle.

As a promise to yourself not to shoplift anymore, you decide to buy just one pack of cigarettes. You light one of them as you lean against one of the store’s walls, watching the sun start to set. Find yourself sitting down, admiring the beauty of a day near its end, taking in the world around you.

Two cigarettes and fifteen minutes later, a small ding sounds from somewhere in the front of the store. It’s Nayeon, half-running out of the building, her face painted with worry as she finds and walks towards you.

“So, you did it?” A smile forms on Nayeon’s face as she takes her right hand to her jean’s pocket, revealing a small candy bar. She brandishes the candy around like a magic wand, as if trying to charm you into being proud of her.

“Well… it's something,” you nod, while the two of you start towards her dormitory.

“Oh don’t say ‘it’s something’ when you didn't steal anything,” she exclaims. She holds the candy bar up against the setting sun, examining its entire wrapper. Now that you’re a considerable distance from the store, the worry on her face has been replaced completely by pride and excitement.

“Well I don’t shoplift anymore, the only reason I'm letting you do it is because you wanted the experience, which by the way,” you scoff, plucking the snack out of her hands, “all of that was for a chocolate bar.” This earns you a pretty strong punch on the shoulder, and the force loosens your grip on the snack enough for Nayeon to steal it back.

“Shut up,” she says, her cheeks seeming to grow a small shade of pink. She walks faster, leaving you no choice but to speed up as well.

6. Dye my Hair

“Do you think blonde hair will suit me?” Nana asks, holding the color card next to her face. You come in for a closer look, but as you stare you stop and wonder why you even did so in the first place.

“Yeah… uhh yeah, I think it can suit you well.” You weren't an expert in hair styles and colors, so honestly unless it was a color that was actually hideous, everything was fair game.

Nana smiles at your response and picks out a box of blonde hair dye to add to her basket. You’re a bit nervous that she wants to dye it at home with you, but any attempts you made to convince her to see an actual stylist have been dismissed. “It’s easy,” she said, “there’s instructions on the box.”

“So, how was it?” You’re half-convinced that the bleach is eating through your rubber gloves, but you soldier on.

“Was what?” Nayeon checks herself out in the mini-vanity mirror in front of her. You have to swat her hands away from her head with your elbows, but apart from that she stays on her best behavior.

“You know,” you shrug, “this whole thing. The stealing, the swimming, the dyeing your hair.” You try to keep the bleach from dripping onto your arms, mostly aiming for the scattered sheets of newspaper the two of you prepared on the floor, but there’s only so much you can do. You just resolve to wash off any drops as quickly as possible.

You get the feeling that she hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. The smile on her face dimmed the slightest it could before she could fix it. “It was… great! Stuff I’ll remember for the rest of my life, for sure.”

Like some form of cosmic karma, she spots your involuntary grin in the mirror. “Good. That’s good.”

The color drains from her hair bit by bit as you apply the bleach carefully. You’re not sure how quickly you have to finish, but Nana seems not to mind. You gently stroke and rub the product through her hair, taking special care not to come into contact with her scalp too often, all the while she turns her head from side to side to admire the look she’s going to have soon.

“You know…” she says suddenly, avoiding your eyes in the mirror, “this was really fun. I’m so happy I got to do all that stuff on my list.” Her smile changes: what was once a cheerful and optimistic smile just a few moments ago is now a wizened and melancholic one. “I mean it. Thank you for helping me.”

She makes eye contact with you again in the mirror, and she flashes that smile to you once more. Her hair grows lighter with each passing second, and as her back relaxes and straightens, it seems that the weight of the world leaves her shoulders as well. She breathes more easily now, and despite the fumes the box says you should do your best not to inhale, you breathe easier too.

~-~-~-~

You’re sat back again on her sofa, and Nana tries her best not to mess with her hair that’s still soaking. She looks kind of silly, what with her old towel around her shoulders faded to near oblivion, her hair in sections making her look like a half-done scarecrow, her hands going up halfway to her head only to be forced back down by the other.

And yet, you admire another shade of Nayeon. This time, it’s a girl who’s scared of the future, of changes she might regret later on. It’s something deep in her character, even central maybe, to be afraid of things she can’t take back. Even then, she takes her leaps and bounds to try and outrun her past, and finally, you see the razor edge that keeps everything in balance: Nayeon’s fear which dictates her present, and Nana’s strength which leads her to her future.

“Hey,” you say abruptly, surprising even yourself, “you good?”

“I think so. My head’s itchy. Is that supposed to happen? Should we wash it off?”

“No, jackass, it’ll look even worse if you quit halfway.”

Your words set in and she realizes you’re right. Worry seeps into her face and you notice tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Look, this might not be comfy right now, but I promise it’ll be worth it later on.”

“Really? You promise it’ll look good?” She looks over to you with pleading, shiny eyes, and it almost hurts to tell her no.

“I said I promise it’ll be worth it. Not that it’ll look good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You chuckle at the sudden rise in her voice. After all this time, she’s still Nayeon, still Nana. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It means… if you stick with it, there’s no way you’ll regret what we just did.”

7. You know…

The end of your senior year of college rolls around, and the graduation ceremony is still fresh in everyone’s minds. Photos of friends together and square caps thrown into the air decorate your social media feeds for a good few days, and you can’t deny the whole thing was something you wouldn’t forget for the rest of your life.

And finally, Nana’s bucket list has been finished. To think that all of it was done in the span of a college year is quite impressive to say the least, as before you started she was lost in her own goals and left sitting for a good three years. Now, looking at your diploma, it was not only a sign of your successful studies at college, for you it was also the sign of helping your dear friend get to where she wanted to be.

Speaking of the devil, now sending you a message

On the way, you see various people from her dorm building heaving away bags and suitcases, undoubtedly taking advantage of the nice weather to move out. You see people hugging each other, taking selfies, exchanging numbers, and all the while you think of each of them with their own stories to tell when they get home, but none so interesting as the one you and Nana built together.

The walk up the stairs was more of the same, people saying goodbye, and you can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia. It was by no means a short year, but for everything you did, the feeling of wanting just a bit more time never seems to leave you. You recall the first time you saw her, that quiet girl in the front of the auditorium with four seats of clearance around her, and how you slowly watched her grow into the fine and confident woman she is now. Part of you is unbelievably proud of what she’s achieved, but another part of you knows it’s all her doing and you were only along for the ride.

You reach Nana’s room just as her roommate was leaving, and you exchange pleasantries with her before she goes off. “Hey, just so you know, Nayeon’s a really nice girl,” she says in whispers to you, “I’m glad she found you before she left.” She pats you on the back before going off to the stairs herself. Something deep inside you glows in agreement, and you think to yourself how lucky you were to be able to meet and spend time with a person like her.

“Hey, come in!” Nana pushes you into her now half-empty room. “Yuri just left, so we have the place all to ourselves!” You take a seat on her easy chair while she plops herself down onto her bed. The half that still has stuff in it is simple and unassuming, and the realization dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve been in Nana’s room. Despite this, the space is warm and cozy, like it was filled with a good sort of energy for a long time.

“Cheers” you both say at the same time, each with a can of beer that you both drink fairly quickly. You recall the first time of her drinking with you, how easily she felt her stomach hurting but this time she quickly shrugs off the bitter taste.

“You know,” Nana says, her eyes shining and her smile flashing itself directly at you, “I am really happy that you helped me with the bucket list, I couldn't do it without you.”

You simply laugh casually and say “Come on Nana, all you needed was confidence.”

“And who do you think gave me that confidence? I really mean it…thank you,” she says, and you can't help but smile at her back.

“Let me get some snacks, okay? Don’t move a muscle.” As she stands and heads toward the kitchen, you go to check up your phone to see what the time is. However, just as you are about to go into your Instagram, you notice something on the table: a little black notebook that’s only all too familiar.

When you think about it, She has never shown you the actual list besides that one time when you two first talked. “A peek won't hurt right?” you say, the alcohol definitely makes the choice for you. Your sober self would never invade someone's privacy, especially not some as close as Nana’s, but regardless, you open it and…

You flip through the pages, and the notebook reveals so much more. The few pages you’ve been shown were just decorated pages, and each mission was a chapter, filled with dozens of writings, pictures, scribbles, each for its own topic. You find yourself smiling, muttering quietly to yourself: “You really worked hard on it… didn't you?”

Your attention is snatched to Nana across the room, looking at you with cheeks fully red. You can't help but curse quietly, and you try to come up with something of an apology. However before you can finish your first word she says…

“Hey, come on, put that down!” Nana rushes toward you, nearly tossing the snacks off to some random part of the room, and snatches away the little black notebook from your hands. She hugs it close to her chest as she turns away, and she looks over her shoulder to peek if you might still be thinking about snatching the notebook back.

Instead, you raise your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sorry. But what's there to hide? Aren't we done?” You take another sip of your drink before picking up one of the snacks. You open the bag of chips and place it on the table for the both of you.

“Well… I had one other thing. I gave up on it a long time ago, just never ripped out the page.” Nana turns back toward you and fiddles with a leaf of the notebook. Her steps are careful when she gets nearer to you, as if cautious to scare you away.

“What?!” You bolt to your feet in surprise, your drunkenness taking a backseat at the sudden exposition. “Shit, we gotta go now! What is it?”

“Calm down,” Nana mutters, her feet rubbing against the carpet, “it isn't something we can do anywhere else anyway. Or, I mean, it’s done? I don’t know…”

Your nerves are still flaring, but you get the feeling that whatever it is, there's nowhere else but where you are now that Nana could do the last bucket list thing. Your gaze steadies on her, and she looks like she wouldn't budge for the world. Her eyes never leave the floor, her hands stay guarded on the notebook, and for some reason, she's also able to keep you just where you are.

“So… what is it, then?”

“Promise me you won't get mad?”

“... Promise.”

Once she hears you say it, her eyes shut tight. As if gathering courage, she takes a deep breath before taking deliberate steps to where you're standing. You never see it coming, but the next thing you know, Nana's soft lips are on yours, her delicate fingers keep you steady in place, and her vanilla scent fills your nose and overwhelms your senses that you can't think of anything at all but her.

It takes only half a second, but you melt into the kiss yourself. Your eyes flutter closed and start to forget the world around you in favor of the girl who stayed by your side. The space between the two of you grows smaller, your hands make their way to her waist, and you let your selfishness take over and keep her for yourself as well.

The kiss breaks just as you hold her, and both your eyes shoot open to find hers just as wide as yours.

“I-I, umm… I’m sorry, it was too sudden, and uhh…” It wasn't too hard to see how much she was stuttering, and if you weren't so surprised yourself you would've also joined her like the blushing mess she is right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit you again, and your better judgment slowly left you as you took her lips once more. You have no time to be surprised at how willing she is, and you resolve to just enjoy the kiss with her. You lead her to the edge of the bed and sit her down; and the first chance she gets, she lies back onto the mattress and pulls you with her.

“If you really wanna know…” She flips to the last page of the notebook and shows you. It’s a simple picture, just two stick figures in a heart, holding hands. You don’t recognize the poster, but the quote is unmistakable: “You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.”

“I’m glad we got to spend all this time together, and I know I keep thanking you, but I really am so happy…” Nana pulls you back in, and with your own sweet defiance, you trace kisses across her cheek and onto her neck. The whimpers that escape her are adorable, but at the same time they also confirm thoughts you’ve only ever tried to suppress: she likes you too.

You go lower and lower, tracing kisses from her neck to nibbling her collarbone, and you settle right before you reach her chest. Her breath hitches when she figures out what you want to do, but ultimately her fingers rake comfortingly through your hair.

“So tonight… let me show you… let me thank you… properly.” Her eyes may look pure when she says those words, but with how you are inches away from her lips, with how you have been kissing her now, it's anything but.

She slowly pulls off her jacket, her eyes never leaving you. The fabric slides off of her arms, revealing the smooth skin of her slender arms. The next to go is her tank top; her fingers grip the hem lightly, tugging slowly upwards, showing you her toned tummy and milky skin. The hem rises higher and higher, until she stops right under her chest.

“Are you sure?” Your question is breathless, not in the slightest bit annoyed, but your tone full of concern reaches her. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know,” she says, the sound of her voice betraying a dry throat, “I love you.” She pulls the rest of her top off, and her boobs bounce freely in front of you. Nana takes your hands and places them on each, and asks you playfully, “Come on, you think I never caught you staring?”

She pulls you back in for a kiss, a proper one this time, the kind that quenches your thirst for her. She tries her best to wrap her tongue around yours, all the while you take your fill of her soft tits. Pinch and tweak her nipples, feel them stiffen as her tiny whimpers grow into careless moans. You never let up, delivering constant pleasure to her chest, and your surprise when you feel her palming your growing bulge is quickly replaced with anticipation.

Her hand slips under your waistband and her moan fills your mouth when she feels how hot and hard your cock is for her. She wraps her fingers around your shaft and gives long, slow strokes, nothing that would make you cum on the spot, but just about enough to make you leak precum onto her palm. She relishes the feeling of your arousal on her skin, and as she picks up her pace, seemingly trying to entice you to do more, you’re left with no choice but to give her exactly what she wants.

You work on unzipping your jeans and taking them off, and with Nana’s help, it feels like the second easiest job in the world. They fall to your ankles and you kick them away, and all of a sudden your cock rests on the skin of her luscious thigh. The heat and the precum that leaks onto her flesh surprises her, but her senses come back to her and she asks for a time out.

“Gimme a sec, I have to breathe,” she gasps unsteadily. You get off her, wondering what you might have done wrong. Her breathing is ragged and she seems to not be able to focus on much else, but a reassuring look in her eyes lets you know she’s alright.

“I just– I needed to see it.” Her gaze falls on your cock, and once she reaches and wraps her fingers around your shaft again, it throbs in her hand. A groan of pleasure escapes you, and she figures out that she’s doing something right. Her pumps start slow, gradually building up speed, all the while she brings her face closer and closer, and you don’t even notice it, but finally her lips meet the tip of your dick. Nana rubs your precum all over her lips like lipstick, and she takes your head in her mouth.

Small groans come from your mouth feeling her soft lips, you enjoy much more than you thought, especially knowing how inexperienced you thought she was. Your hands meanwhile grab a part of hair, pulling it lightly, causing Nana to moan into your cock.

“Don't get mad if I do this wrong–” she says, her eyes fraught with worry. Despite this, she makes careful moves to give you the best possible experience. She seals her lips around your head, and she gives slow but deep sucks as she tries her hardest.

“You’re– nngh– doing great,” you moan, the pleasure overtaking you. The eye contact you two share is enchanting; she’s undoubtedly a very pretty girl, and despite the amateur blowjob, she more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Her head bobs slightly, trying to take more of your length in, but her worry of choking keeps her from giving any more.

On the other hand, she has no idea of the effect she has on you, and the sight of the gorgeous woman’s plump lips on your cock coupled with her eager attempts at making you feel good nearly sends you over the edge early. In an effort to stave off your orgasm for even just a little while longer, you regrettably pull her off of you.

“What– what’s wrong? Wasn’t it good?” Again her words are coated with worry of disappointing you, but the way you look tenderly to her reassures her.

“You are perfect, Nana,” you whisper into her ear. You lay her back onto the bed gently, and you let show your eagerness to please her too. You venture down until you’re level with her crotch, and you work slowly to peel off her thin shorts. As they leave her legs, you’re presented with a pastel blue pair of panties, though you can’t help but notice the growing wet spot right in the center and the scent of her arousal seeping through. It must be uncomfy, you think, and you strip it off of her as well.

The garment leaves her and you look to Nana for approval: her finger between her teeth and her face red as a tomato, she looks at you with a loving gaze. Only then do you realize that Nana is now fully naked, everything bare for you and you alone, and the way her thighs rub together needily sends the message you’ve been dying to get.

Part her legs, meeting little resistance as you do. Travel up from her knees to her thighs, planting kisses and light nibbles on the soft flesh of her legs. Hearing how she whimpers beneath your lips: “That feels really good… I want more…”

Your lips finally meet her pussy, and the initial contact draws out a sultry moan from her. Each swipe of your tongue on her cunt causes more and more of her love juices to leak out, sending waves of ecstasy up her spine. She tries locking your head in place as she runs her fingers through your hair, all the while she grinds her crotch on your face as she chases her pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, you feel so good! I love you~!” Nana humps your face more and more roughly, and you take it as a sign that she’s close. Good thing as well, as you’re running out of air, but on the other hand you feel as though this wouldn't be the worst way to go. You run your tongue over her soaked pussy, taking slow, deep licks.

She’s inching closer to her orgasm, her hips are bucking onto your mouth, your tongue meets her clit, she squeezes your head between her thighs, your lips seal around her swollen nub, she grabs your hair and pulls hard, and with a scream ripping through her throat, Nana squirts her love juices straight into your waiting mouth as you drink her essence up. Her scream turns into a drawn-out moan as she continues to grind on your face, making sure to pleasure herself enough to give you everything you’ve been working so hard for, and you lap every single drop of it up like it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted.

She releases her grip on your hair and head, and as she relaxes onto the bed her arms fall to the sides and her legs spread open. She lazily brings a hand to her pussy and rubs it, showing you just how good you made her feel, and she smiles up at you.

“That was fucking amazing.” It couldn’t have sounded any sweeter, and the fact that it came from Nana, lying on her bed wearing nothing but a smile that you gave her, fills you with a sort of pride that you doubt you’d ever get again anywhere else in your life. But as she starts to get up, and she places her lips on yours, you feel another weight lifted off your chest. It’s another shade of her, one that shows you how she is when she’s content. It’s her way of telling you that among the hundreds of firsts she’s had in her life, she’s grateful that you were this one too. And as you kiss back, your hands finding their way to her hips, you connect with her again on a level that you never put into words before. “I love you too, Nana.”

Upon hearing, her kiss deepens and her tongue works harder to play with yours. She leans on you more, until finally you let yourself fall backwards, and Nana is right there, straddling you, with an innocent yet horny look in her eyes again.

“Your turn. Relax, okay?” She caresses your cheek, and suddenly you’re made conscious of how bad you’re probably blushing right now. Despite this, her smile never leaves her face as she continues to reassure you. She giggles at whatever expression it is that you’re showing her, and she gets to work.

Nana reaches to her bedside table and opens a drawer, and from it she produces a peculiar box. “Remember when I ‘stole’ that candy bar?” She tears off the sticker on the edge of the box to open it, pulls out a little plastic square pouch, and tears it open with her teeth. “I… bought… the candy bar. This was what I stole.” She tugs on the contents of the pouch, and reveals a condom.

“What the–” you start, but you soon stop in favor of moans caused by Nana’s handjob. “Don’t ever belittle me like that again, okay?” Her smile is again just as sweet and innocent as the first time you saw it, but now is completely different. It never leaves her face as she pulls the rubber over your cock, but not before giving it a few more cursory licks.

“Ready?” she asks, and you nod furiously. Finally, she aims the tip of your cock at her entrance and slowly sinks down onto you. “Oh, fuck, it’s so big,” she gasps. She takes her time taking in your length, feeling every vein against her pussy walls as you enter her tight pussy. She sucks air in through her teeth, her eyes shut tight, her fingernails leaving imprints on your chest as more and more of you slides into her unbelievably tight cunt. As she does, you feel her wet velvet walls rub your cock inside her, her slick spreading all over you and coating you with a warm you can’t describe. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, she finally hilts, having taken everything inside her, and she sits on your crotch without moving, still trying to get used to the feeling of her pussy being so full.

“You good?” you ask, genuinely concerned if she’s okay or not. Place a hand on her waist, pat to comfort her. Her eyes open slowly, almost releasing a tear, and panic rises in your chest.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, do you need to get off? I–” you start, but she shuts you up with another kiss. It’s slow and gentle as it starts, just simple pecks, as she reassures you once again that she’s alright. Once she pulls away, she flashes you another smile, and you swear she gets more and more beautiful with each and every one.

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” She traces circles on your cheek and neck, and all you could do is nod. She comes back in for another kiss, and this time it’s much deeper. She opens her mouth to moan, and you jump at the opportunity to swipe at her tongue too. She loves it, and once she’s comfy enough, she starts to hump against you as well.

“It’s really really good. Do you feel good?” Her question snaps you out of your daze, but you only nod as you fight off cumming too early. Not long after that, you note she’s had her fill as she pulls away from you. Her posture straightens and she sits on you properly again, this time determined to return the favor and blow your mind. She takes in a deep breath, braces herself, and lifts herself up carefully. Your breath hitches, watching her naked figure on top of you, and you admire the way her sweat collects in drops before they slide down between her breasts. She notices you staring again, and she brings your hands up to her chest, moaning at the first moment of contact. Your instincts overtake you; you push yourself off the bed to her boobs and start to suck. Your lips seal around her nipples and she runs her fingers through your hair as she tries to push you deeper into her delicious breast.

“Shit, don’t stop,” Nana pleads, and you continue kneading the flesh of her boobs more, sucking when and where you can. At that moment, she forces herself back down onto your dick, taking in everything again all at once. Her walls part suddenly, and once she settles her warm pussy walls squeeze your cock as tight as she can. She begins bouncing, her moans never stopping, and you find a rhythm: each time Nana brings herself down, you thrust up to meet her halfway. The first time you do, you reach a depth to her that neither of you thought was possible, and the heat from her sex with her slick drive the pair of you insane with pleasure.

She keeps bouncing on your cock as her lewd moans gradually grow louder and louder with each of your thrusts into her needy core. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her pussy tightens again, and just as you deliver a perfectly-timed bite to her nipple, another scream rakes out of her throat as her second orgasm overtakes her. Her pussy convulses as her hips buck again and again on your cock, her thighs and tits jiggle seductively, and her tightness reaches new heights as if she wants to keep your cock inside her forever. Despite this, you never stop thrusting her, never stop making love to her, and you cover her chest in kisses while you lick up all her sweat.

You never give her a chance to catch her breath, and soon enough, an unknowable number of seconds or minutes past, you feel your own orgasm coming. You take one last look at her godly figure and divine visuals, and you finally succumb.

Hold her close, hold her tight. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you getting away, so you only return the desire. Keep thrusting into her, forget about how she’s losing her mind. She’s gone, lost in her own pleasure, and there’s no point in bringing her back yourself. Instead, follow her. Send yourself over the edge and join her in her ecstasy.

You momentarily lose your flow of consciousness as flashes of white fill your eyes, but you’re snapped back to reality with Nana pulling at your hair. Only then do you realize; you’re actually cumming inside her. With each spurt, you thrust into her as your cock twitches against her slick walls. The cumulative heat from your cum sends just the right signals to Nana’s body, and it sends back the equivalent of screams of desperation at the illusion of breeding. Your pumps are harsh and careless – thank the stars you’re wearing a condom – but Nana is too far lost to care past the unholy pleasure you deliver to her.

“Fuck, fuck! Aaaahhh!!!!” You feel her tighter, as if clamping down on your cock, her cunt pulsating and the connection between the two of you growing wetter, slicker. Despite this, you never let up, hell-bent on giving her everything you have. One spurt turns into two, then four, then six. It didn’t matter, none of it did. It could have been the end of the world and you wouldn’t have minded. All that was important was the girl sitting on your lap, losing her mind.

As both of your orgasms die down, the pair of you fall to the mattress. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and out of breath, and all you can do is smile and giggle at each other. As each of you catch your breath, the world quiets down, and all that’s left in existence is just you and Nana.

“Wow,” she sighs, “nice.” Her smile grows wide again, and her hand once more finds your cheek to caress.

“Yeah, nice.” You laugh back at her, the adrenaline fading quickly. “Does that check the thing off your list?”

“Oh, yeah!” Nana jolts up and off the bed, or at least attempts to. Instead, she falls back next to you, and only then do you realize the fatigue rendering your bodies useless.

“So… we good?” There’s nowhere else to look but right to her. Nana’s beautiful, round, just a bit teary eyes gaze back at you with adoration and love, something you never thought you’d have for yourself in this magnitude. And yet, here you are, and here she is, as if nothing else mattered.

“Shit. That was crazy. Anyway, yeah. Thanks.” With her last ounce of strength, she comes in for one more kiss. She collapses in your arms, cuddled right up to your chest, and you can imagine she could hear how loud your heart was thumping, just like hers.

Catch her snoring an adorable snore, wrap her in an embrace that would protect her from the worst the world could throw at her. A small thought in your head says you want to keep her safe forever like this, but you know better: she’s a strong woman who can take care of herself. Think back to how lucky you are, and how you walked this journey with her. Recall how she was just a fearful nobody when you first met, remember how you watched her grow into the amazing person she is now.

Your eyelids grow heavy, and you realize your waking seconds left are numbered. Right before you drift off to sleep yourself, you hear her, in the tiniest voice ever, mumbling her confession: “Stay with me.”

“Go to sleep, Nana.” You smile and turn your head toward hers, arms wrapped around her waist.

“Not without a promise.” Her own eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell she’s fighting back her drowsiness as hard as she can. She tries blinking the sleep away, but it only works marginally.

You could say anything to her at all right now, anything in the world, but there’s really only two things that need to be put into words. Your mind rushes at a snail’s pace, and you reach for faraway ideas when the right one is just in front of you. In your mind only one question appears: “So is this like…a one time thing?”

In response Nana just leans in and kisses your cheek, then giggles. “Would me saying ‘I love you’ outside of sex prove it?” she asks playfully, her tone betraying her desire for rest.

“Touché.” One hand goes to her soft blonde hair, brushing it to the side. “But in my defence, suddenly kissing me and then getting me naked was not the first thing I expected when you said there was ‘one last thing’ in your bucket list,” you state matter-of-factly.

You share a bout of tired laughter for a moment, and then you both look at each other with pure eyes, as if you two compete to see who can make the other blush first. Decidedly, Nana loses while she confesses. “I used to think that college was supposed to be all rose-colored, that it was to be the peak of my life. But spending it with you, I learned that it doesn’t have to be all grand milestones to live through.” The air in the room swirls differently, replacing stale breaths with new ones from the open window.

“That time you cheered me on during the open mic, how you looked at me… It made me realise that after everything’s said and done, I wanted peace. And I can feel peace with you, without all the guilt of past mistakes, nor ghosts of regret that would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life,” she says, now leaning toward your ear muttering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, smiling from ear to ear. Eventually you both released the hug. Look around her room for your clothes, which was surprisingly hard for how your sex wasn't too feral, and in turns take showers to clean yourselves up.

As you get out of the shower, fully cleaned and with some good-enough-for-sleep clothes, you find Nana on her bed fully knocked out. You simply laugh and join her, and her instinct leads her to wrap her arms around your waist while her head leans into your chest.

“Goodnight, Nana,” you whisper with finality, as if ending the night on a perfect note. Peck her forehead and close your own eyes, and fall into slumber just as deep as hers.

Bucket List Completed

“Argh, I’m so excited!” She grips you by your collar and shakes you as she screams, jolting away any sleep you wished to get.

Two months have come and gone, and while you know it hasn’t been long, things have changed so much. Despite you trying to get just a bit more sleep in the backseat of the taxi, Nana right next to you can’t stop bouncing in hers as the sights outside the window pass her by.

“Okay, okay. Just get all this energy out before we get on the plane, please?”

She returns her attention to the window just as the taxi slows to a halt. Your new girlfriend practically throws open the door and leaps out, heading straight for the trunk to retrieve your luggage.

“Hurry up! We might miss our flight!” She struggles lifting her comically large suitcase before you hear it hits the concrete pavement followed by its handle extending with its clack-clack-clack.

“Hawaii isn’t going anywhere, Nana, please,” you mutter as you lazily exit the cab. You hand the driver your fare, and he reaches out to accept. As he does, he gives you a knowing smirk and tips his hat to you, as if saying “good luck.”

Turning around, you find Nana with all of your luggage too, eagerly awaiting your arm for her to cling to before you make your way inside. The hustle and bustle of Incheon International Airport fills her with a deep sense of excitement, and honestly, who could blame her? Your girlfriend is in the midst of all these other people — travelers, tourists, adventurers — and she fits right in. It’s the most natural thing for her now, to find herself in new situations that broaden her horizons and make her feel alive.

She yanks you to her side in line for the desk, holding her brand-new polaroid camera at a high angle. “Cheese!” she screams, not far enough from your ear, but with how happy she is, you can’t help but smile her smile too. “Our first overseas trip! This is the first time I’m leaving Seoul, let alone Korea!”

“Okay, Nana, calm down,” you chuckle, but you know she won’t. Divert her attention instead, put her energy to good use. “Do you have your passport? Carry on? Pink notebook?”

Though you both are sure she hasn’t missed anything, Nana rummages through her bag again anyway. “Check, check, and check! How could I forget?” She takes each item to show to you, and she flips through the pink notebook once it’s in her hand.

One thing about Nana, she never lets the moment escape her anymore. Once she sets out to do something, she’ll do everything in her power to accomplish that goal. This is no different, and you love her so much for it.

After looking through the notebook, she claps it shut. She flashes you the drawing of a gray bucket on its front cover before it disappears back into her carry on, and you both are reminded that a part of who you are as a couple is just that: a notebook that predicts the future by rooting itself in the present. Sadly, a weeklong trip won’t be enough for everything on her list this time, but who’s to say you’re not coming back eventually?

And at the end of the trip, you have it ready, the best gift you could give her: a little green notebook, every left-side page filled with things you want to do, and the corresponding right side page blank, all for her. And on the very last leaf, where the cardboard of the back cover accompanies it, is a drawing of a ring, with the words: “I’ll be taking my time, spending my life, falling deeper in love with you.”

“Come on, hurry!” She yanks again, snapping you out of your wistful thoughts. “We’re gonna miss the plane!” Nana pulls you to the gate just as the intercom announces your flight has begun boarding. “Alright, alright! Easy,” you chuckle again, and you can’t believe this is the same girl behind the gym crying her eyes out alone just last year. Funny how people change like that, but at the same time, it’s impossible to think that Nana would ever stay the same.

================================================

Thank you all for watching, it has been a long time working on it and we are really happy it is finally out, hope yall had a good read with this one,

i will see you all next time leafies~

#kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop smut #nana wooah #nana smut #wooah #wooah smut

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missmonsters2 · 2 years ago

Text

—Lips Over Your Nightmares

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping. Nightmares haunt you every time you close your eyes, and Wednesday offers a solution in the form of comfort only she is capable of.

Warnings: Soft!Wednesday. Possessive!Wednesday. Intimate. Wednesday ran out of patience. Emotionally charged confessions. Kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: I said wednesday is soft for her girl and I will take no arguments about it. The act of kissing in this fic is peak wlw. I'm sleeping on the highway tonight and taking you all with me.

Count: 2.6k

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Nighttime could be hellish.

It was probably why Wednesday adored it so much.

You loved it too. There was something divine about the nighttime. People feared the dark, but you saw it as an opportunity to rest your weary eyes and bones. The night gave way to being invisible, and there were some days when that was all you could bear to be.

But to Wednesday Addams, who loved the dark, you could never be invisible to her.

It was a blessing and a curse.

To be seen by Wednesday—it was something more than many people could ever hope for.

But to be seen when you wanted to be invisible? It was like being dragged without anything to hold onto.

Nighttime was hellish, and you wanted to disappear into the dark as your nightmares plagued you until you couldn't even tell what was the dream and what was the reality.

But Wednesday Addams saw you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You've missed Enid's late-night studying session again. It's the second week in a row that Enid's gotten a text from you two minutes before the session started.

"I guess we can start," Enid told the group with a disappointed smile. "She's not coming today either."

"Fuck," Xavier sighed. "She's the only one who's good at art restoration. I was hoping she'd help me with my assignment."

Wednesday's face scrunched together mildly, and Xavier rolled his eyes. "Except for you, Wednesday. But you hate teaching me and I hate learning from you."

"I can't help it if you're stupid," Wednesday dully replied.

"Not all of us can do it perfectly after being told what to do—told only once might I add," Xavier raised his brow at her.

Wednesday shrugged, which only seemed to irk Xavier more and to prevent them from bickering further, Yoko turned to Enid and asked, "Why isn't she coming?"

Enid shrugged, her lips quirked to the side as they pressed together. "She texted to say she wasn't feeling well and couldn't make it."

"She does seem tired lately," Bianca commented, her expression in deep thought as she recalled the last two weeks when she saw you. "Also, really quiet. Well, quieter than she normally is."

There were murmurs of agreement around while Wednesday sat silently. Of course, she also noticed, but she was waiting for you to say something to her. You always told her whatever was plaguing you, even when Wednesday told you she didn't ask. Wednesday was used to hearing your mundane thoughts or solving your problems.

But there was nothing this time, and Wednesday couldn't figure it out. She tried to think back to see if anything had changed—if something had happened, but there was nothing.

Two weeks of leaving you be was enough, though, Wednesday decided as she packed her things into her bag.

"What! Wednesday, are you leaving too?" Enid groaned. "But I need help with botanical sciences!"

"Ask Bianca," Wednesday didn't even look up.

Enid looked at the siren, who had a deceitful, happy smile.

"I'd be happy to help you, Sinclair. Let's talk The Poe Cup negotiations first."

"Absolutely not!" Enid scoffed before turning back to Wednesday with pleading eyes. "Wednesday..." she whined.

"Ask Xavier," Wednesday didn't budge.

"But all he does is draw in class. There's no way he's doing well."

"I'll have you know I'm getting a C," Xavier looked affronted.

Enid merely stared at the sullen boy for a long moment before she turned back to Wednesday. "I'll just wait for you tomorrow after school."

Xavier was about to say something else when Wednesday briskly nodded, standing up and leaving the group behind without another word.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was completely silent on the other side of your door, and from its looks, it was dark as no lights were shining underneath it.

Wednesday knocked in three successions.

There was no answer.

If it were anyone else, they would've believed you weren't there and left, but not Wednesday.

No, she knew you far too well.

This was a place where you could truly be invisible with no roommate.

Wednesday knocked insistently until she heard shuffling, an agitated huff, and footsteps approaching the door.

The door only opened marginally. You looked mildly surprised to see her, but Wednesday supposed you had too little energy to manage anything more.

There were dark circles under your eyes, and they looked puffy and slightly red around the edges from lack of sleep. Your skin was pallor, which suited someone like Wednesday, but she decided it was not on you. Your hair lacked its usual shine, and Wednesday's eyes narrowed as she finished scrutinizing you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked quietly.

"Are you going to just let me stand out here?"

"I'm not in the mood for company, Wednesday," you blinked slowly.

It was new.

You were usually happy for Wednesday's company whenever she stopped by, and you often visited her dorm.

"I have had enough of this," Wednesday glared at you through the gap in the door. "You will let me in."

"And if I don't?" You challenged back, and Wednesday almost wanted to applaud the snippy attitude you've mustered through the tiredness.

"Then I will wait out here and ensure you don't get a. Single. Wink. Of. Sleep." It was a threat that tugged at your nerves. You looked at Wednesday, and for a brief moment, she thought she won before you shut the door in her face.

Disbelief clouded over Wednesday's eyes.

Then, Wednesday began to knock incessantly over and over on your door. Her knuckles knock with a vengeance, and she'll be damned if you think she doesn't take absolute joy in torturing you.

It worked because you open the door wider this time, as you stare at Wednesday with a glare.

"What part of 'I'm not in the mood for company' was unclear, Wednesday?" Your voice was gruff, and Wednesday could tell that you were still trying to not snap at her despite how tired you were.

And that in itself was everything. It was like that all the time.

You were always trying to be considerate of whatever feelings you thought Wednesday might have while gently pushing her to admit which ones she was truly feeling.

Maybe that was why Wednesday could never leave you alone now.

You were a gateway to things Wednesday never wanted, and she genuinely thought you should pay for making her desire things she swore she'd never want.

"Say you don't want my company then," Wednesday said haughtily.

Wednesday knew you wouldn't—couldn't, even. You never would.

Just as you were her exception, she was yours.

You pursed your lip at her, starting to close the door swiftly, and Wednesday stuck her foot partially into your room, preventing you from shutting the door in her face again.

"Wednesday!" You called her name, concerned you might've hurt her when the door hit her foot, but the macabre girl used the opportunity to press her palm flat against your door and pushed it wide open.

She took a step forward menacingly, forcing you to take a step back. She took another step, and you took another one back. When she was inside your room fully, she used the back of her heel to shut your door.

The resounding click of it made you swallow.

"Wednesday," you clenched your jaw, fighting against something you weren't even really sure why. But you were terrified—of her, you don't think, but rather what she was capable of doing to your heart.

"I have been patient," Wednesday's voice is quiet, but her tone is sharp, expressing every bit of her lost tolerance. "I have waited for you silently."

Wednesday kept walking towards you, backing you up until your back bumped into your desk. She looked positively irritated. "I have even refrained from saying a single unkind thing despite them running through my mind at the sight of you moping at whatever has been keeping you up at night."

"How did you know—"

"Do you take me for an idiot?" Wednesday's eyes flashed dangerously at your insinuation. You shook your head.

"Then you must take me for a fool with endless patience," Wednesday glared at you. "I don't take kindly to the kind of games you're playing."

"I'm not playing anything—"

Wednesday cut you off again. "Then explain concisely what has been keeping you up and why you've been keeping it to yourself."

Silence filled the room as you didn't speak, but Wednesday had already waited this long. She could wait a little more.

Wednesday watched how you gripped the edge of your desk, your finger tapping underneath in rapid succession before you closed your arms over her chest.

The stance was defensive, but you looked more reluctant than wary.

"I'm having nightmares about you."

The admittance stunned Wednesday, and she didn't know how to take it. Initially, it felt like a compliment because nightmares were so fascinating and exhilarating to experience, and Wednesday hoped to have nightmares every night she slept based on that logic.

But you were not her.

Nightmares, illogically, were typically not desirable.

"Wednesday, I—" You swallowed. "I have feelings for you. You're the best and worst part of my days because I actually feel clinically insane everytime I see you, spend time with you and then have to face the fact that you're not mine and I'm not yours."

Wednesday's jaw clenched, and it was noticeable. She wanted to open her mouth and demand how you could feel the exact same way she did, but she kept her mouth shut, waiting for you to continue on.

"And I have nightmares about losing you," you confessed. "I have nightmares about losing you to Tyler or another deranged supernatural being. I have nightmares about losing you to Xavier or Enid or somebody like Tyler, minus the whole mass genocide. I have nightmares about losing you in every single imaginable way, only to wake up and realize you're not mine, and you can't lose what you don't have."

"I can't tell if the nightmare is when I'm asleep or when I'm awake." You put your hands to your face, laughing hollowly. Tears well up in the back of your eyes, burning as they were so dry from lack of sleep. "I think I'm going crazy."

Wednesday wanted to tell you that going crazy was supposed to be wonderful. But she, herself, has been experiencing the whirlwind of elation and torment you put her through and believed that going crazy wasn't as wonderful as she thought.

But Wednesday decided then and there that there was no way up from crazy. And while it's unfortunate that she's not the brand of crazy like Uncle Fester, she's been driven mad nonetheless. It's the only thing that could explain all of this and everything that's about to come.

Wednesday grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away from her face. No visions plague her, and all she knows is that this meant her decision wouldn't end in misfortune and it wouldn't drive her down a lonely path.

"Enid's not expecting me back tonight," Wednesday told you as she dragged you over to your bed. Her succinct tone leaves no room for you to ask any questions.

"Um, okay?" You said anyway, thrown off by her response and feeling exhaustion saw at your bones, dragging the invisible knife back and forth.

Wednesday guided you to get into bed, and you complied. Resignation settled over you as you rested your head on your pillow. It was cold again with you being away from it, but it brought no comfort.

You lay facing the wall, about to pull the blanket up to your chin, when you heard something drop against the floor. You turned your head and saw that Wednesday had set her backpack down, and now she was zipping off her sweater, hanging it on the pole of your bed frame, leaving her in her black long-sleeve.

Wednesday took her shoes off before using every bit of her vulnerability to steadily and carefully climb into bed with you. It was dark, with only a little light from the moonlight shining just barely into the room, and you could make out the barest hint of her features and knew she was staring intently at you, trying to ascertain if this was a boundary both of you could bear to cross.

Her touch was slow and hesitant, revealing this was something she's never done before, but the moment you were in her arms, you clicked into place like a puzzle piece.

Wednesday was cool against your body, but she was warming from your touch and shared heat trapped under the blanket. She smelt like rain and dry leaves, and you felt like you were going insane. You buried your face into her neck.

Wednesday wrapped her arms around you, holding you close, allowing the things she's been desiring for a while to come to fruition. She couldn't tell if this was making her saner or driving her closer to insanity.

It was deliriously pleasant.

"Who said you're not mine?" Wednesday muttered into the shell of your ear.

It's suddenly not enough, and Wednesday now knew the answer was that it was driving her closer to insanity.

Wednesday pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes that were so tired just moments ago. The dark circles remained, but you were wide awake, speckles of oblivion in your eyes.

Despite how everything else changed as you became sleep deprived, your lips still remained full and soft.

Wednesday moved to close the gap, sighing softly as her lips slanted against yours.

How could she feel like jagged glass, splintered and sharp, while you felt so soft, practically melting around her serrated edges?

Wednesday only pulled back marginally, cupping your jaw and the back of your neck. "Who told you that you don't already have me? I want names."

You couldn't even think straight with how her breath felt on your lips. You pushed forward again, pressing your lips against Wednesday's insistently.

Was it possible for reality to be better than a dream?

Your lips slotted over Wednesday's over and over and over. Wednesday tugged at your bottom lip, smoothing over it with her tongue before it dipped at the edge of your mouth where your tongue met hers.

It was dizzying, something that frequently happened to Wednesday when it was too warm. She usually hated the sensation of it, but, of course, as many things were exceptions when it came to you, this was one of them too.

"Your nightmares are inane."

You couldn't help but laugh against Wednesday's lip.

"I think I am actually insane," you grinned, and you saw a ghost of something similar on Wednesday's lips.

"Sleep," Wednesday ordered you, kissing you chastely initially but ending up biting your bottom lip tenderly. Her hands pull you closer, her lips resting on your forehead. "I'm here, so nothing will plague you."

The softness of Wednesday is unimaginable, and you're nearly skeptical.

"But—"

"No." Wednesday countered bluntly. "I'm telling you that I'm here and yours. You may come to regret it, knowing how...difficult I am. But you're stuck with me. Congratulations," Wednesday tilts her head slightly, brushing against yours, "or condolences."

But you could hear Wednesday's heartbeat, and it was dark, and you were so tired, but you were close enough to hear Wednesday's heartbeat.

Your lips tingle from Wednesday's kisses. You felt your eyelids grow heavy along with your body, and the way Wednesday shifted told you she was satisfied.

Nighttime could be hellish, but Wednesday Addams saw you—she always would. And all she had to do was put her lips over your nightmares.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x ofc #wednesday x ofc #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #mm: my fics

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cameronspecial · 10 months ago

Text

A New Kind Of Normal (Part 1)

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Arguing, and Name Calling

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five years later, Rafe makes an unplanned stop at a diner that reveals a secret that Y/N has been keeping from him.

Masterlist

Y/N wipes the counter with a clean rag, looking up at the clock across the wall. Three more hours until Stella is dropped off from daycare. “If you think rubbing that spot over and over again will make a genie appear and you can wish for her to be here faster, then I’m sorry to say that you are going to be disappointed,” Harvey jokes, following her gaze to the clock. She stops cleaning, “Sorry, I just miss her so much. I think I’m PMSing.” “Sure, we can blame it on your period,” he laughs. Y/N pushes him over in annoyance, escaping to her back office to hopefully make the time go faster.

She smiles at the picture of the grandma on the desk, settling on her chair to order more inventory. Her life plans weren’t exactly to take over the diner, yet it’s not like she was planning on having a baby at twenty either. Y/N was left the diner in her grandma’s will and she took it so that it could stay in the family. There are no regrets in either of those decisions. Sure, she didn’t get her big break in LA or New York, but she would never dream of trading her daughter for anything in the world. Stella Y/L/N is the light of her life, even if she is the spinning image of her dad. Stella is all Y/N’s and that’s all that matters. She may have Rafe’s eyes, but she has Y/N’s sense of humour. Her lips are the same as his, but she loves the same movies as her mom. Her hair colour may match his, but she also has the same bad habit of biting her nails as her mom.

Y/N focuses on the words on her screen when Harvey comes running into her office. “A total hunk just came into the restaurant and I have been ordered by Patty to come get you. She thinks he can be your soulmate. Says to let you take his table,” he informs, pointing behind him with his thumb. Y/N shakes her head, “I’m the owner. I really should be the one telling you to take tables, but I won’t disappoint Patty. I’ll be out in a second.” Harvey nods and heads back out to check on his customers. She finishes up the order she was working on, fixing her shirt before heading out the door.

The sound of a door opening draws Rafe’s attention and his heart stops at the scent of vanilla he hasn’t smelt in five years. Even if it was only one night, he has been haunted by the wearer of that scent for years. His eyes land on her and he can’t believe he gets to see her again. Her smile is still as brilliant. Y/N heads behind the counter to get an apron and his insides collapse in on himself as he watches her smile dim at his sight. He doesn’t know why she would be upset at him. She was the one who left in the morning without a word. Suddenly, the face on his watch needs to be constantly adjusted.

As Y/N exits her office, she has to stop herself from screaming at the man sitting in the booth. She could never forget him; a living reminder of him literally came out of her vagina almost four years ago. Fear creeps into her brain. The only possible reason he could be here after all these years is because of that living reminder. With the resources he has, he would most certainly win custody over Stella and Y/N couldn’t allow that to happen. But maybe he doesn’t know about her. If he did, then wouldn’t it make more sense to bring a lawyer with him? She decides to find out why he is really here first before she goes on the defence as she walks over to take his order.

“What are you doing here?” she grits through bared teeth. He gives her a confused look, “I had a meeting with clients. I thought I would stop to get something to eat before heading back to the Outer Banks.”

Her expression lightens up at his words. “So you aren’t here to see me?” His head moves from side to side, “No. I mean that night was amazing, but I wasn’t expecting to see you here. I’m just hungry.” He notices that her eyes keep glancing towards the clock and the nail of her thumb is being gripped by her teeth. He wonders why she looks so worried all of a sudden.

“Okay, good. I mean cool. What can I get you? A burger? Salad? Pie?”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down, Buttercup. Why are you in such a rush? Aren’t you going to get my drink order first?”

“Right. Of course. What can I get you to drink?”

“A coffee, please.”

Rafe had never seen a woman run away from him so fast before and he has got to say that he is offended. He doesn’t know what he did to garner such a reaction from her, but he vows to make it up to her. His hand goes up to his mouth, so he can check his breath. Smells fine. The mug of coffee is quickly placed in front of him and she practically forces him to give her his food order right at this second.

Y/N hands the order to Patty in the kitchen, “Pat, I need you to focus on this order, please. Get it out first and as fast as you can.” The older woman’s eyebrow shoots up. “That’s a little unusual, but I can do that for you, honey. Can you watch the other food then for me, please?” she asks. Y/N does as asks and makes sure the chicken tenders in the fryer don’t burn. Patty gets Rafe’s food done in a jiffy and Y/N takes it out to him. She stays behind the counter, looking between the clock and Rafe eating every so often. She swears she has never seen someone eat so slowly. He has to be doing this on purpose. He can feel her gaze on him and he has pieced together that something must be coming that she doesn’t want him to see. His curiosity gets the best of him, so he decides to make this lunch last.

The jingle of a bell above the door catches his attention. He turns to see a little girl run into the diner and round the counter to the woman standing behind it. “Mommy,” she screams, jumping into Y/N’s arms. With a clear view of the girl now that she is being carried by her mom, Rafe can now see her in more detail.

The long locks that frame her face are the same muddy blonde colour as his. Her eyes match his ocean-blue ones. And she definitely inherited the shape of his lips. He tries to do the math in his head. He isn’t great at guessing kids’ age. She looks about three, maybe four. So four years plus the ten months of pregnancy, that child is almost certainly his. He feels like his world is falling in on itself. How could he not know that he had a little girl? Did she know she had a daddy? He promised himself if he ever had a kid that they would never feel the same way about him as he does about his dad. But he did one step worse by not even being in his daughter’s life. Anger starts to fill him and he knows he needs to find a way to manage it before he lets it out on the wrong person.

“Stells, what are you doing back so early?” Y/N questions her grinning daughter, moving the hair out of the girl’s face. She nods along to the explanation about daycare ending early today, so Mrs. Winters dropped her off early. Her eyes are focused on Rafe and she watches as he pieces the puzzle together. She observes as he slaps money onto the table, quickly making his exit. “Shit,” the mother whispers. “Can you go to my office, please? Mommy will bring you a snack, baby.” Y/N makes sure Stella is making her way to the office before running after Rafe. Her feet slap against the concrete and she spots him entering his truck. She goes to chase after him, but he drives off in a blink of an eye.

——

He had a daughter. He had a little girl that he could cherish and watch grow that she kept a secret from him. He doesn’t even know their daughter’s name. His anger fills him to the brim and he needs an outlet to get rid of it. The white powder in the small baggies calls to him, so he rushes to his coffee table. He draws the cocaine into lines and brings his nose down to snort the powder. The drugs start to affect him; his judgement starts to be clouded.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to dial a number, “Barry, I need you to find an address for me.”

——

“So how was daycare, Stella?” Y/N questions her daughter, cutting up a cucumber for a snack. Stella runs up to the counter, “It was good, Mommy. I got a rainbow sticker for being a good girl.” The girl pulls at the front of her shirt to show off the sticker on it. “That’s great, Baby. You must have worked hard today to be a good girl. I’m proud of the effort you put in. Now, why don’t you go get ready for your snack? Mommy is almost done getting everything ready,” she suggests, moving on to get the cheese cut. Stella yells an okay and runs to the bathroom.

The hard knock on the door reverberates around the open floor plan of the small house. This stops Y/N in her tracks and she goes to answer the door. When she sees who it is, she tries to shut the door in his face, but his foot stops her. “How come you didn’t tell me I had a daughter?” he growls, pushing his way into her house. His force causes her to stumble backwards and luckily, she is able to catch herself before she falls on her bum like on the night they first met. She shuts the door, turning toward him, “I was going to tell you. But by the time I found out I was pregnant, I had already learnt the type of person you truly were.”

“The type of person I truly was? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Can you keep your voice down, please? She is just down the hall.”

“What do you mean?” he snarls, approaching her so they are chest to chest. The dark look in his eyes and the towering figure over her should’ve scared her. She can see the abnormal size of his pupils, so she knows he is high. However, she can’t stop thinking about the man that she met. Not about the stories of his anger issues or how he beats people to a pulp. Not about how he not only does cocaine but sells it at parties too. All she can see is the man who lost his button and ranted about how his father is an asshole. Passing the anger of her hiding Stella, she can see the sadness he feels about missing out on her life so far. Yet, the fact that he shows up at her house, high and yelling while Stella is there causes her to feel her own fury as her maternal side starts to show.

She stands straight, taking a few steps forward that makes him walk backwards, “What do I mean? I mean that I found out that you not only do drugs, but you sell them. I found out that you beat people up who aren’t in the same financial circle as you. I found out that you have anger issues that you don’t seem to want to change. Rafe, you weren’t the type of father I wanted for my daughter.” Seeing such a sweet person say all those vile but true things about him sends a pang through his heart.

“You never gave me a chance to change! I would’ve done anything for her if I knew she existed.”

“Really? Because from where I’m standing right now, you are proving me right. Look what you did when you found out about her. You didn’t try to talk to me like an adult. You went out and got high then barged into my house demanding answers.”

“You know what? All of you bitches are the same. You think that you are so much better than everyone because you don’t do drugs or get angry. Well let me tell you something, you are just a poor slut who got pregnant on purpose to have a permanent cash cow. You aren’t better than me. You are just better at hiding it than me.”

The volume she was about to talk at was not one she had ever used before, but she wasn’t about to let him talk about her or her daughter like that. “GET OUT! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN UNLESS YOU HAVE A LAWYER WITH YOU!” She storms toward the door and throws the door open. Rafe didn’t think someone with such a nice personality could be so loud. It helps bring him back to reality and he realizes what he just did. His shoulders relax with his anger. He looks at her sadly as he follows her pointed finger out of the door.

Y/N shuts it once he is out the door. She runs her fingers through her hair, giving a tug to the end of her roots. The frustrated sigh she lets out is the only sound in the room until a small voice catches her attention. “Mommy, are you okay?” Y/N turns to her teary-eyed daughter and concern floods through her. She rushes to her, bringing her up to rest against her hip. Her forehead rests against the younger girl’s temple, “I’m okay, Stells. Mommy isn’t hurt, just angry. Are you okay, Baby? I know hearing Mommy yell might have been scary. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” Stella’s arms circle her mother’s shoulders and she gives her mother a kiss on the cheek as comfort. “I’m okay, Mommy. The scary man is gone now. Who was he?”

Y/N wishes she could pretend like there was no man, but Stella had obviously seen Rafe. There is no denying it. Y/N just has no idea who she wants Rafe to be to her daughter.

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii

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0strawberrysorbet0 · 9 months ago

Text

𝐴 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟

𝐻𝑎𝑧𝑏𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑙 𝑥 𝑀𝑎𝑙𝑒!𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙!𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

This is a series so if you'd like to be tagged simply just comment!

Not too happy with this chapter but hope it's good enough 😕

Please do not use/steal my work on this site or any other! Reblogs and likes are appreciated greatly!!

Part one ← Part two → Part three

Summary: When Charlie is called to heaven for a meeting instead of her father she is ecstatic but she meets a boy with some very familiar features..

Warnings: cursing, Adam mentioned, rlly weird layout, idk what else, probs spelling mistakes and weird grammer

Where am I??" Was the only thought coursing through the boy's mind?

He couldn't hear anything but his thoughts, everything else was muffled as if he was underwater, he strolled mindlessly throughout the forest, there were lush plants and exotic flowers of every tone and shape.

He could see birds and insects, things they did not have in his new home...

As he walked forward, it was like he was being pulled, like he didn't control it...

He heard a voice call for him...

"ƙׁׅյׁׅ݊ꪀյׁׅժׁׅ݊ᝯׁׅ֒꯱ dear?? Where-" was all he heard, voice silencing before he heard a yell...

He couldn't make out words but he heard a male's voice shout, who were they shouting for??

As he stumbled through the thicker, darker patch of forest he reached a tree, an apple, sparkling and juicy, shaped like a heart hung from a branch. Just as he went to grab it,

someone clung to the skin on his leg.. Or something.. Biting down on his flesh.. His pale skin turned pink and oozing a cherry-coloured syrup.

As he turned to see the blood dripping he shot up, dripping in a cold sweat as his face whitened.

That dream. Again.

It had been haunting him, it happened every so often but now more than ever. It was always the same.

He wanders, a woman calling for someone and a man screaming then sees the Apple and tries to grab it before being bitten. Then waking up before being able to see the creature.

But what was it?.. He sat up on his bed, grabbed a yellow shoebox from under his bed, he placed it onto his milky white duvet.

He peeled the lid off the box, revealing a little rubber duck... He didn't know where it was from but he had had it for as long as he could remember, there were a few photos of him and his friends... Mainly Emily.

There were a few random things, buttons and feathers, but he finally found what he was looking for, a folded sheet of parchment. He opened it revealing a drawing of the forest, mainly the path he walked and the paths he could see.

He took out the red pen and drew the figure of a woman, shouting... He couldn't see the figure's face or features but he could tell it was a woman.

His father could never see this, nor Sera. They'd think he was plotting against something.. Which he'd never do. He wasn't a monster.

At the bottom of the box was a small gift from Emily, a little box that had been wrapped with gold ribbon. Inside was an apple... An actual real apple.

He hadn't a clue where she got it but it was gorgeous. So shiny and juicy, plump and red, a delicious bloody red...

He had never understood why they were forbidden anyways, yes because of The Fall but surely the fruit wasn't the problem..

He couldn't blame Eve.

He wouldn't have resisted either.

His silence was broken by knocking on his door. "(M/N)? Son? I'm heading off to my meeting, there's some food on the table, take care!"

It was his dad, it was thoughtful of the man to let him know he was leaving but it scared the boy shitless.

He got himself dressed and got to work on his heavenly duties, he strolled through a building, looking for Emily, he had to tell her about his dream.

As he walked past a meeting room he could hear a familiar screeching voice, Adam.

And a voice he hadn't heard before?.. A young girl? Whatever. It wasn't Emily so it didn't matter, he continued to walk until the voice got louder, almost like it was behind him

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!"

Miss? He turned to see the person who had been shouting, it was a girl.

She had red glowing eyes with the sclera being a strong yellow color.

Her hair was the same straw blonde colour as his hair, it was tied up into a strange ponytail, in circular shapes almost, she was wearing a blood-red suit and her cheeks were rosy and pink.

What a strange angel... She didn't even look like an angel...

He just turned and continued to walk, going to find Emily.

..............................................................................................

"Once upon a time, there was a glowing city protected by golden gates known as Heaven and ruled by beings of Pure light, Angels that worshipped good and shielded all from evil..." A blonde girl read aloud,

As she flicked through the pages she looked at the part in between the section where Lucifer and Lilith tempted Eve and the banishment.

It was burnt, the small gap, unnoticeable at first glance, but with the number of times she had read it, she could tell someone had burnt out a few pages, burning part of the story...

"Charlie?" Her girlfriend said at the doorframe, an extermination had just happened, she looked out the window at the burning city.

She needed to put a stop to this, these sinners surely didn't deserve it. Well at least some of them.

The day seemed to melt away quickly, they had talked about commercials and... Well they all had some unique ideas...

Her phone started to ring, and she jumped up and went to answer it.

It was her father? Strange... He never called.

But he wanted her to go to heaven instead of him? Holy shit... Maybe she could change heaven's mind after all...

Before she knew it she was there, heaven..

When Charlie arrived she noticed how pristine everything was, light, bright, the place was practically blinded by white light.

She now stood before The Adam, or as he called himself (much to her dismay) The original dick. She had put all the ideas she could (before he'd interrupt) onto the table but they smushed it all.

To sum it up... The meeting went horribly. She had not only been turned down but completely ignored. Her whole life she had believed angels to be kind, caring creatures... There was a reason they made it up there after all.

But she wasn't so sure now. She wasn't so sure about anything anymore.

As she was leaving she saw a pair of wings stroll past the door, they were full and stuck out proudly, glowing a bright white. The feathers looked almost like cotton candy as they surfed the breeze, one or two floating off.

One had dropped at her feet. She picked it up before trying to get a look at the angel, they had long blonde hair, and she presumed it was a woman.

"Miss?? Excuse me!? You dropped some feathers!!" She shouted about the feathers, maybe the angel would need them? Or maybe she just wanted to see the angel's face. She couldn't tell but she felt somewhat connected to the being.

The angel turned gracefully, piercing eyes staring through her, beautiful, beautiful eyes, they were the colour of a rich berry, a beautiful purple, like a flower, soft and delicate. Yet the angel's stare could have ripped her in half by that alone.

Charlie stood there, not making a sound so the angel turned around. Bored with her it walked off through the corridor.

She needed to know who this was and why they looked like her mother.

..............................................................................................

"I still dunno what ya mean by 'she looked like my mother' toots, who are ya even talkin' about again?" Angel replied, pouring himself another drink as Charlie told the spider demon bout the meeting and her encounter with the angel.

"I'm telling you!! She looked just like my mom!" She said, waving a picture of her mother in front of Angel's face.

"Jeez, okay calm! I get it!" He slapped the picture away "Why are ya so bothered though?"

"I don't know. I just felt connected to her.. " she said, petting Keekee, who curled into her lap and purred at the affectionate touch.

"For all you know it might've not even been a girl, just let it go toots" he took a big swing of his drink before pouring another drink.

"I'm telling you I feel connected to them, I... I know they looked like my mother." She sighed.

Hopefully, she'd be able to go up to heaven soon, to win them over and to see that angel again.

Tag list - @demstarno @kenny-619 @bunbunboysworld @lovedesperatevampire

@honey-valentin3 @type-ink

#hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel angel dust #fanfic #hazbin hotel emily #male reader #son!reader #enjoy!!#A Hidden Star #fantiction #x reader

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idleray-av · 3 months ago

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PLEASE SHARE THIS POST

EMERGENCY COMMISIONS || PLEASE CONSIDER HELPING ME

PLEASE DONT SCROLL

This is me - Carl or Ray! And I REALLY need to move out of my place of residence as soon as possible. The reason of the emergency is that I need to get out of a toxic environment ASAP The big problem is my mother, who is NOT mentally stable. She treats me very ambivalently: at first good, then suddenly horrible. She threatens me with violence, and plays on my emotions and mental health. She is often transphobic towards me, doesn't value my opinion at all, and if I don't agree with her, she starts a scandal and threatens me.

She doesn't care that I'm haunted by suicidal thoughts, saying that it's my own fault and that I would finally LEAVE THE WORLD, and then she abruptly changes her position, deceiving me with words, saying that:

"I just ACCIDENTALLY said it, it wasn't what I meant"

And then again it loops in a circle: scandals, threats and, that I just misunderstood it all and that it was my own fault. She is trying her best to keep me in her house, telling me I can't go anywhere because I'm not capable of doing anything.

My mom said herself that despite the psychologist's recommendation to go to sessions too, she says she doesn't have time and she's old, she just has such nerves and it's NOT a bad thing.

She's not a very b*stard. I live in a warm place and have everything, but her mentally is not stable. Accusations, threats of violence that she will start the same way she did when she was a child and verbal abuse towards me. All her negativity towards me, I am not going to take it anymore, I have enough frayed nerves and tears as it is. I don't feel safe in this house. I don't want it to continue..

…. It hurts to be around her anymore, so I need your help to move out of this place.

So, I open commissions to get enough money so I can pay for tickets, luggage and move out! And also, to have enough money to get by.

DONATE - PayPal, Patreon, Boosty

- HOW BOOSTY WORKS?

— THE ANSWER ! [CLICK!!!]

IF YOU TAKE A COMMISIONS, I WILL GIVE YOU A LINK TO THE DISCORD SERVER, WHERE THERE WILL BE A LIST OF INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR AND OTHER ORDERS - WHO IS AT WHAT STAGE OF DRAWING!

IT'LL MAKE IT EASIER FOR ME.

AND YOU CAN ALSO WRITE AND ASK QUESTIONS THERE! MORE DETAILS ON THE DIS CHANNEL «INFO FOR MY COMMISSIONERS»

DETAILS:

I TAKE FULL PAYMENT IN ADVANCE

• Do not forget about the commission on the transfer in the price list is not specified!

Payment is via PayPal//Patreon//Boosty - INTEREST IS NOT INCLUDED IN THE FEE AMOUT. PayPal ~2,9 - ~3,9 percent. Patreon charges ~5 percent. Boosty charges ~10 percent.

(A website that will help you calculate how much extra you will have to pay! - https://percentagecalculator.net // https://kipsl.by/interest-calculator safe//srs)

MY ENGLISH IS NOT PRETTY GOOD, I MAY NOT UNDERSTAND SOMETIMES. PLEASE BE PATIENT, THANKS!

— By ordering a artwork from me, you acknowledge that you have read all of the following.

— Additional character = +100% of the original price

•Prices might change depending on the complexity. Also, from the design of the character.

— The cost of a full background is negotiable in the same DM, not less than 30 USD // 28 € and more.

•Simple background 10-20 USD // 9-18 €

•You can have a light background if you wish, it's free. It's my pleasure to do it.

—After payment, I show you the stages of the work as you wish, if you want!

•We'll figure out the deadline during the conversation, at least a month + may depend on my workload.

•Take into account that I can get sick unexpectedly. It's my curse that I hate, I get sick a lot.. I will warn you about that!

•If the work is needed by a specific date, we will discuss and most likely the price will change from how quickly you need to finish.

If you're not sure how your character would look in my style (or stylistics?) you can ask for a sketch sample but there will be a watermark from me.

I can refuse an order without telling you the reason.

I draw:

• SFW.

•OC//Characters

• Fandoms (I can refuse) // Fanart // Fancharacters

• Objects//Symbols//AmongUS (I can objecthead//symbolhead)

• Robots//mechanism (I can refuse)

• Humans, aliens, monsters, demons, spirits and the like!

• Ship art (But not with real persons unless they're already partners)

• Portrait of real people

• Insects (except flies, etc.)

• Horror, blood, gore, etc. (+ can realistic)

• My characters//sona to your order (I can refuse)

I don't draw:

• Furry, anthro//feral and other animals, lizards, dragons, ponies, etc.

• Very huge complex designs//constructions

• Real people (Exactly like a cartoon)

• Anime

• Anything to do with politics, racism, humiliation of the lesser, p*d*, inc*st and that kind of stuff. All weirdsussy stuff- Ugh.

Maybe that's all…

At your own risk (I DUNNO how to draw this stuff...):

• NSFW//erotic. (+50 USD // 45 €)

• Pokémon (not all of them, I don't draw fur/very beast-like ones).

• Musculature.

• Fetishes (Additional fee at the agreed price // I can refuse)

More details:

— I CANNOT RETURN YOUR MONEY.

• Keep in mind - if you have already paid and work has started, but suddenly you changed your mind, the money will NOT be refunded. YOU CAN'T CANCEL YOUR ORDER.

— I WILL NOT ACCEPT AN ORDER IF:

• No normal reference//no art with the character in fullbody size for a complete picture.

— You can request not to publish the order // add a watermark to it.

Know that I may use your order when I bring examples of my work!

— Edits are free at any stage, BUT except for huge edits (change the pose during the line with painting // change in general completely the background when it is almost ready, etc.) here already at a negotiated price fixing.

#emergency commissions #emergency #please share #need help #help #commissions open #commissions #artist on tumblr #digital art #art #sketch #ir_av

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anniflamma · 8 months ago

Note

hi I actually love your ruthlessness animatic and its the reason I got into epic in the first place so id just like to ask how you design your characters?? your Poseidons design is really cool

Happy to know that my animatic introduced newcomers to EPIC! :D

So my process of designing a character always starts with trying to achieve a characterization that I want to highlight. From there, I gather references, references, and more references! I take inspiration from other media, arts, or photos. The way I came up with Poseidon is based on a headcanon of mine: that Poseidon is a representation of death and everything that Odysseus does not want to become, but ultimately, whether he realizes it or not, has already become.

The death motif is represented by the horse. It was inspired by, of course, the myth of Demeter and Poseidon, but it was also inspired by the novel "The Foretelling" by Alice Hoffman, where the main character is haunted by a black horse with red eyes. Not gonna spoil anything from it because it's genuinely a good book, but you can guess that the horse represents death. Then the idea of him having glowing eyes and teeth were inspired by all those creepy pictures from the Mandela Catalogue series, but I also saw pictures of horses showing their teeth, and that was scary enough for me to include.

So my first drawings of Poseidon were actually of his horse form. And I just loved the visual of a horse running on the waves!

When I started to create his human form, I had in mind to make him look like the horse and the human form were the same person. So at first, he had only black clothing, but I ended up changing it because I just knew that people would associate him more with Hades. So that's why he wears white instead.

I wanted to portray Poseidon as a father who has experienced pain and seeks revenge.

So he has tear streaks that show that he has recently been crying. His clothing is very loose and exposed, indicating that he didn't tend to himself before hunting Odysseus. He has black, silky hair due to his horse form having black, silky hair.

Something else that I also tend to do is not make an overly cluttered design. I'm not really into heavy detailing. I am much more keen on having details, but making them subtle and using shapes to tell a story.

And something that I really like about character design is to have characters designed to contrast with each other.

A good example is my designs of Hera and Zeus! Zeus is dressed in light clothing because he is the opposite of Hera, she is wearing heavy veiling. But I also really like to use shape languages. So Zeus has a large chest and the usage of clouds makes his upper body look big. So he will always look bigger than you. And Hera is the opposite again, her veil makes all the volume push down, and she looks small compared to Zeus, but she still takes up a lot of space with people beside her.

#asks #epic the musical #character design #poseidon #hera #zeus #long ish post

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bellswlw · 2 years ago

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ it’s cold here without you ⇨ e. williams

ellie williams x afab!reader

wc: 6k

part 1.5 | part two | masterlist

summary: after Ellie manages to finally get you to pose for her after arriving in Jackson months ago, you two attend the winter dance and it’s then that you realize you might like ellie as more than just a friend…

cw: bff!ellie, mutual pining, jealousy, drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, inexperienced reader, artist!ellie, some fluff, edging (r!receiving kinda), love confessions, making out in semi public space (???) basically grumpy x sunshine, gardener!reader —lmk if there are more tags to add pls—

a/n: this was going to be angsty and sad but then this just happened so enjoy! (please be nice this is my first public wlw post and first fic i’ve been proud of in a minute so pls, pls just don’t be mean. i’ve been so nervous to post this all week help) proofread but there’s probably still some mistakes tbh

From the moment you walked into Jacksons gates, Ellie knew something. Something so small rang in her ears. So much so it almost hurt, it made her want to wince at the sight of you like you were a walking orb of fire and you had just exploded right in front of her.

She knew when you met Shimmer for the first time, she knew in the dining hall, and at the library and the school and the church. Especially at the church. She knew she would never be able to let you go. But she knew she would have to, eventually.

You spun slowly around in Ellie’s desk chair, your head resting back as the smoke filled your lungs more and more with each rotation.

“Please. I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone else there.” you say up into the ceiling while you wait for a response. You hear the crackle of weed burning straight through Ellie’s chest before anything else.

Her voice drops a little low when she finally speaks, the smoke falling from her lips like fog rolling over a still lake. “I’m sure Dina will be there. And Jesse. And literally everyone else.” Ellie was stretched out on the futon from across the room, caring less about the stupid winter dance.

You look at her then, a little dizzy and absolutely appalled that she wouldn’t want to go and watch people get drunk and dance to No Scrubs while high out of your minds.

She was never the type for large happy gatherings, but you figured she would go if she got to sit and watch for entertainment.

“Not everyone.” you whispered to yourself with a quick raise of your eyebrow before glancing at your hands quick enough to avoid Ellie's eyes that were suddenly boring into you.

Ellie sat up; the joint now glued to her lips.

“It’s a fuckin’ winter dance. In the Church. C’mon, how fun could it really be?”

You look up. Seeing how her eyes never left your face. Like you were meeting her there, through a dirty window with the reflection of her hazily standing beside you. A window that hasn't been buffed out yet, just a little foggy. Just a little.

“Well, it would be more fun if you went with me. Please. Just for an hour? Then we can come back here and do whatever you wanna do. Even if it's just sitting around. And you can draw me… if you want to.” you added the last part in a hushed tone, like the words were timid to come out.

But you had been secretly hoping she would since you got here.

You loved watching her draw, her fingers tracing over the paper so gently, like it was skin. Almost like it was yours. You wished it was… sometimes.

She looked away from you, drawing in another drag before she rested her elbows on her knees, legs spread wide.

Ellie had been wanting to draw you since the day you got here. The shape of your hips and the slope of your neck had haunted her pages for months. Erasing and sketching them again and again from memory. She wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her up and spit her out.

She sighed, trying to gauge if you had really meant it. Your tell wasn’t working since you were already beat red from just offering yourself up.

“Fine. Let’s just do it now, while we have time to spare.” was what she said instead, swallowing back her excitement and clearing her throat.

Ellie reaches over to you, handing you the joint and gently flexes her hand in your direction to tell you to finish it.

There wasn’t much left, maybe a little more than a roach. You took it from her a little eagerly, wanting the smoke to smooth your lungs and the quickend beat in your chest caused by Ellie’s hand grazing yours.

It didn’t take very long or much for you to feel it. You were such a lightweight.

Ellie of course found it hilarious when she realized. Catching on and laughing at you from across the room when you started giggling at the word “Infectious.”

Maria had said your laugh was “infectious” in the stables and considering the circumstances, it was true. Only, this time Ellie wasn’t immune to it. She had followed suit and ducked her head over her shoulder away from you to collect herself while shimmer groaned in relief.

“It’s just so—“ you cut yourself off, burying your face in your knees while sitting on the floor against the side of Ellie’s bed frame.

The distance was necessary since you had only met a few days prior.

Ellie looked up at you, with her brows pulled together in confusion before she put two and two together.

“Wait. Are you high?” she asked with a chuckle.

The room was clouded with a thin layer of smoke, barely enough to be able to see to the naked eye.

Your eyes had shot open wide, terrified.

“You are! Holy shit, this is good.” her voice carved the words into you then, the goosebumps running through your legs until they reached your core and exploded there with millions of needles with nowhere to go. You were soaked.

Ellie hadn’t laughed that hard in a minute, with her hand flat on her stomach to try and help the coiling feeling deep in her stomach.

“That’s fucking hilarious.” she murmured, her head falling back against the futon before taking a hit so big her cheeks had funneled in.

“Shut up.”

You were bright red with embarrassment and Ellie couldn’t look you in the eye without the image burning into her mind for the next week.

You think back on it now and what took place only a few hours before, letting a dry chuckle fall from your lips and echo into the quiet of the room.

Ellie’s still for a moment, but then joins in and laughs hard enough for her body to jolt with each exhale.

“What?” her tell floats to the surface immediately as she wipes the bow above her lip nervously.

“Do… do you remember that one time–” You stifle back a small laugh with your hand, slightly doubled over in the chair and your other flat against the coffee table for support.

“What?” she asks again, an unsteady smile creeping its way in.

“When… when we were– I can’t!” you confess, letting out a burst of laughter and slowly sliding down onto the floor.

“What?!” Ellie exclaims, a laugh finally falling from her lips while her hands tense out in front of her.

“When we were in the stab… stables. And I met Shimmer? And then I was petting her ears and all of this sudden, she rips absolute ass! Do you remember that?!” you let out a laugh, deeper from within your stomach causing you to hold onto it with both hands as the giggles ate you alive.

Ellie lets the smile on her face break, and then after hearing you kick your feet against the floor she erupts too, leaning over a bit to join in.

“You got so scared!” she exclaims, which only sends you further into a fit of laughter, breathing heavily for a few seconds and then starting right back up again.

“It was… It was so loud! An– and long?!?”

Ellie eventually joins you on the floor, laughing hard enough to where a vein is popping from her neck, just noticeable enough to where if you reached your hand out to touch it, you could even feel her pulse.

She looks over at you, seeing your eyes pinched shut and your smile wider than she’s ever seen it before. It was incredible.

As your laughter subsides, your eyes find their way to Ellie’s. Watching you, of course.

“Oh,” you say with the smallest giggle attached, then letting it fall away to join the burning embers that lifted the hair off your skin.

She smiled at you, fully now with no hesitation. “Can I draw you?” she asked, not looking away once. Her voice became a little rusted, and it chipped on its way out of her throat like a stone on pavement.

You fought the urge to crack. “Sure.” you said instead, and looked away from her quickly just to pull your eyes back to her slightly parted lips.

Ellie’s smile faltered a moment, resting on her side next to you. She didn't want to get up. She wanted to keep this image of you alive inside her head for the rest of her life. She wanted to keep you forever. Obviously she knew she couldn’t. She’d fuck it up sooner or later.

“What?” you ask, gaping at her with so much love plastered on your cheeks it almost looked fake. Too saturated. Too real. Ellie had the urge to swipe the pad of her thumb across it just to see if it would smudge. She knew it wouldn’t. She just wanted an excuse.

Instead, Ellie glanced away –finally– and lifted a hand to the right side of your face, tucking a single strand of hair behind your ear gently. You froze.

“Just um, put this right here.” she whispered.

Her eyes were glued on yours. The beautiful emerald that made your heart freeze in time just jumped into a millions beats per minute with the touch of her hand alone.

Ellie’s hand was still hovering over your jaw, like she was afraid you would fade away if she let you go.

But she had to. She knew that, some part of her had to know that.

Her hand fell back at her side, and Ellie cleared her throat one more time.

“Um, stay just stay how you are. I’ll draw you just like this, yeah?” you were too stunned to speak, so you nodded once and swallowed back the butterflies that had just burst in your stomach.

“Okay.” you could hear the smile in her voice as she got up on her feet in one quick motion, leaving you to stare mindlessly at the door.

You felt like you were posing naked for her somehow, like she had stripped you clean and she would be basing her art off of you. You hated how self conscious you suddenly felt, but selfishly you loved how excited she got.

And just like that, you're burning up again, your cheeks catch the flint and light is bursting from beneath your skin.

You smother it. You act calm, and cool, and not like you are the horniest you've ever been around someone you could never have.

You don’t move a muscle when Ellie sets down pads of paper, jars of brushes, ink, parchment paper, water color, and charcoal all within a minute or two and is sitting down next to you again.

She put her hands to her mouth, unable to keep her excitement hidden. “Okay. Um. Just, uh, yeah just stay exactly how you are. Try not to move. Or laugh.” you can’t help but let the smirk sink into your face before playfully scoffing under your breath.

You followed her instructions word for word. You didn’t move. No matter how badly you had to pee. You wouldn’t move until she was done.

And so far, it felt like you had been posing for what felt like 2 hours based on how many pieces of paper Ellie had already used, and the fact that the water was completely dark with no more room for ink. Or that her fingers were coated in charcoal and it had smudged on her face as she tried relentlessly to keep the stray hair behind her ear.

But you watched her. You watched her hands dance across the paper like skin. Your skin. –on paper anyway– You noticed her tongue dipping in and out of her mouth as she concentrated on capturing the curve of your arm and the texture of your jeans that made you want to crawl out of them.

Ellie couldn't get the images of you on paper fast enough. There were so many. She had to get it absolutely perfect: the slope of your nose, your crooked hairline caused from laying on your side, the delicacy of your fingers as they rested on the curve of your hip. She had to get all of them out right now or else she would have to keep memorizing and sketching and staring.

Secretly, she wanted to keep a few for herself too. To remind herself that you were real, and that she had you at one point. Ellie only had so much ink and charcoal left, but she didn’t care, she would use it all. She would draw you a million times if it meant you would look at her like this just one more time. She would do anything… anything for you. If she just had the chance, she’d take it. Instead of running away to catch the lungs that were sprinting away from her.

But she would try, with all the power and love she's ever had. She would give it all to you, and you wouldn’t even have to ask. Ellie would give it up willingly, she would beg you to take it from her and say “I don't know what to do with it.”

“Hm?” you ask from your position on the floor. “Do with what?” and her eyes flickered towards you.

She forgot you were really there. That you weren’t another dream. That you could see her.

Ellie cleared her throat and her voice broke when she spoke again.

“Um, the drawing. It’s done. I don’t know what to do with it.” she looked at you one last time before you shot up from the floor and sat next to her.

“Can I see it?!” you said, cheery like a child who had just had their picture taken in a cardboard cutout stand.

“Yeah.”

Ellie turned the pad over to you, and just when she thought she hated it you covered your mouth with both hands and let in a sharp inhale.

You were quiet for a moment, and Ellie was still a little worried you saw right through her until you turned to look at her with tears pooling in your eyes.

“Oh, Ellie. Holy shit. This is the best one yet.”

She let herself feel a little proud then, a smile fighting its way onto her face once again. She never knew why she was always fighting it, it would happen nearly every single time.

“That’s just because I made you look so good.” and she nudged you a little.

“Shut the fuck up, I’m serious. It’s beautiful Els.” and you turned away to look back at the drawing before blinking away the tears in your eyes.

There’s a moment there, where the two of you are staring at… you. “No one’s ever drawn me before. It's weird looking at myself like this.” and you then felt Ellie’s eyes burn the side of your face, begging for you to look at her.

You tilt your head slightly, not stripping your eyes away from the page until the very last second.

Ellie was blushing. She was fucking blushing.

She looked away the second your eyes had found hers.

“Here, you can have it.” and she folded the page into your hand and held it there for a beat.

A beat too long.

The glass was clearing up, the fog dissipating into thin air at lightning speed.

You cleared your throat in hopes to silently slice the tension that was building around the two of you.

“Thanks.” you let your eyes fall to your lap. “We should uh, probably get ready.”

Ellie looks away again, patting her thighs as she exhales swiftly. “Yeah. Yeah, let's do it.”

“Come on, I don’t wanna be the last one there! It’s already started.”

You leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, actually watching Ellie fix her hair. It was pulled back into a low bun, and the layered pieces kept falling forward, not wanting to swoop back with the rest of it.

“I just, I can’t get this fucking— oh, god dammit!” she exclaimed, letting her hands fly out at her sides and grip the edge of the bathroom counter to take a breath.

“Here, let me help you.”

You took a step off the frame, pulling a pin from your hair and gently stepping up to Ellie to slide the pin into place. You must have accidentally got her scalp because she squeezed one eye shut and let a small wince escape her lips.

“Sorry.” you said, and tapped the pin to make sure it was snug.

You felt Ellie’s eyes on you from the reflection of the mirror. Of course. They were burning into you like the reflection of a magnifying glass.

Ellie’s hands grip harder on the countertop, watching your delicate fingers play with the pin. Collecting strands of her hair and then gently sweeping them behind it as gently as she can so as not to poke you again.

“Thanks.” she says instead, and lets go of the counter with a gentle push. Her hands have a red mark from her grip that when she flexes her hands, she feels her skin pull with resistance.

“Yeah.” you look away, even though you feel the warmth radiating off of her. Sending something through you.

“Okay. Let's go before we’re stuck outside. I heard they are checking for ID." There's a joke somewhere in her voice, but it gets buried by the sudden feeling of your hand twisted in yours.

“Ellie, your hand is freezing.” you say, entirely missing the joke she was trying to make and placing your other hand around hers.

She looked down to see her hand barely covered by both of yours, and she lets the feeling of your skin melt into hers like molten lava.

She was always lighting you on fire. Now, you were warming her up, meeting her halfway.

The dance was better than Ellie had expected. The room was full of people in cowboy boots and actually square dancing. Not just in the movies like she thought.

And you were smiling from ear to ear, happy to see so many people laughing and having fun while they still could. So of course Ellie was happy to be there. She fucking lived to see you smile like you were right now.

“I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?” Ellie said against your neck, yelling over the music.

“No! I’m gonna dance.” and she nodded, eager to let go of your hand. She didn’t want to lose you in the crowd. She didn’t want to lose you, period. But of course, she would eventually.

Your hand fell from hers as you made your way into the line dance, knocking your feet back and forth on its heel and toe while clapping your hands along to the music that was actually ‘not that bad’.

Ellie’s standing at the bar, a drink in her hand with no intention of actually drinking it. She wasn’t that big a drinker, but she wanted to keep herself busy while trying so hard not to stare at you from across the room.

It wasn't working, obviously.

She was actually glad she came, because she had never seen you this… bright. You were floating across the dancefloor like some kind of angel. She couldn’t place you. Not here anyway. You looked so out of place, with your smile wide and cheeks completely beet red from dancing, it's like you were more saturated than everyone else, like you were literally glowing.

She snaps out of it when she sees you heading over to her, a smile plastered on your face and sweat beading just above your top lip.

“Oh jeez, they weren’t kidding.” you say to her, out of breath and laughing a little.

“Who?” she asks.

“Tommy and Maria. When we were all putting the flyers up they said it would definitely be an owl here.” and you couldn’t keep it together, laughing into your hand and leaning forward into Ellie’s shoulder.

“That… was terrible.” she smirks.

She loved it.

You pull back, flexing your hands out wide at your sides before letting out a short exhale. “No, but seriously. You guys might not party very often, but when you do it gets crazy. I was drowning out there!”

“You seemed to be doing fine to me.” Ellie offered up. She was flushed.

“Oh yeah? You try going out there. It’s not as easy as it looks.” and you tilted your head playfully, emphasizing your point.

She looked down at her glass then, breaking away quick enough to avoid your eyes.

“That’s what I thought. Now, where is the bathroom?”

And Ellie took the smallest sip from her glass just before pointing to her right and bending her wrist the same direction. “Through the doors and on the right.”

You smiled at her, touching her arm with clammy hands. “Hey, dance with me when I come back?” your grasp on her was slipping away, waiting for her answer before letting go completely.

“Yeah. Sure.”

You beamed, completely unable to hide it this time. You thought you maybe didn’t have to, that you would maybe… finally… be able to clean this goddamn window for good.

You call out to her before disappearing, “Oh hey, you were right! Dina’s here!”

The second Ellie registers what you said, suddenly Dina has appeared into thin air and is dancing with someone a few feet away.

And again, a few moments later, Jesse appears from your left, a matching glass in his hand.

“She’s uh… putting on quite the show.” he says, and it's then that she looks up at her, watching as she gets dipped and the music fades out.

“I give you guys two weeks until you're back together.” and she chuckles.

“Not gonna happen.”

She looks away from him briefly, glancing into her drink that’s gone warm.

“She uh, say something to you?” Jesse asks before looking at her again.

“Make it one week.”

While Ellie’s attention is turned towards Jesse, just then Dina comes over and draws it back toward her.

“Ellie, hey!”

Jesse adjusts his posture, standing taller. It’s so obvious he wants her back.

Dina takes the drink from your hand, shooting it back and placing it on the bar behind you with a thud.

“Dina.” he says, lifting his glass, almost like he was offering it up to her.

“Jesse.” is all she says instead, eyeing him slowly.

“C’mon,” she says, and grabs Ellie’s hand.

“Wait, I was gonna–” but it's no use, because Jesse is talking over you from the bar.

“Hey! Don’t forget we're headin’ out early, so get some rest!” and before Ellie can even look back at him all the way, Dina is already talking again.

“Yes sir.”

Ellie is looking down at her feet, trying not to trip over them as Dina continues to pull her farther into the crowd of people.

“You're such a dick.” she murmured.

Dina’s hands fell easily on her shoulders moments after she placed Ellie’s on her waist.

Just then, you came out from the bathroom trying to pick through the crowd to find her, seeing the empty glass and missing spot from the bar.

You make your way over to Jesse, who you were kind of surprised to see there since he wasn’t much of a partier.

You go to ask where Ellie went, if she had somehow missed her walking into the bathroom… but the words die in your throat when you see her smack dead in the middle of the floor, with Dina rubbing her cheek against Ellie’s and a sly smile on her face.

“I hate these things.” Jesse said.

You glance over at him, noticing he was watching Ellie and Dina too.

“Tell me about it.” you say, looking back at Dina.

She has her arm wrapped around Ellie’s neck, a single hand pulling the same strand of hair that has been falling out of place all day.

The same one you pinned. The same girl who had drawn you just 2 hours ago.

The same girl… that was kissing Dina.

She… she kissed her.

Your windows shattered, shards falling to the floor like needles and with the heartbeat that had been run over and sliced clean in half.

You feel yourself wince at the sight, and before you think twice, you're up from the bar and leave through the back.

You fucking blew it.

Ellie’s hands were stuffed deep inside her pockets, walking around Jackson like a lost puppy.

She hadn’t seen you since the dance. Which to you both felt like a lot longer.

She looked for you afterward, apologizing to Dina before pulling away from her to ask if anyone had seen where you went, if anyone saw you leave with Jesse and wondering what the fuck just happened.

When you got home, the second you closed the door behind you you couldn't help but let the hot tears stream down your frosted cheeks.

You had tried so hard, so hard to let Ellie see how much of her you liked, and completely obvious you made it seem.

You posed for her. Not naked, but the act still made you think it was worth something. So much so that when you pulled her drawing from your backpocket, slightly smudged from dancing all night and when you had pulled it out on your way home contemplating throwing it away.

You shoved it under your pillow instead, climbing in bed shortly after and rocking yourself to sleep and trying to get the image of Ellie’s lips out of your mind.

Ellie showed up the next morning, knocking on your locked bedroom door.

It had scared her, how raw her voice sounded, and how at the same time it had never sounded softer than when she said “Hey, you in there?”

And when you didn’t reply, you could hear her let out a small sigh before stepping away from the door.

You pulled your covers tight over your head and shut your eyes tight with regret.

Eventually, you realized you had to get up to go to work. It was cold out, but luckily you had gotten to work in the greenhouse since it was a low leveled job and you enjoyed it. Plus the warmth helped too.

The greenhouse door was cracked open by a hair, a dead giveaway you were inside. You still never figured out how to latch it all the way closed, and it seemed to get heavier each time you went to move it.

Ellie pulled her lip to the side, nibbling nervously on the inside of her cheek. She felt so fucking stupid, letting Dina kiss her like that. Letting her dance with her. She was such a fuck up, as per usual.

She was walking around aimlessly, bored, and confused.

She didn't know what to do without you. It was so routine with the two of you.

You would meet Ellie at the stables after her patrol shift was over (which was usually in the mornings) and then you would hang out together at hers. And she would usually find you in the dining hall or the library if you were scheduled there.

But since the dance, she hadn’t known where you were, and it's like she had never been to this version of Jackson without you in it.

She had, years ago, but she could never remember what it was really like. Almost as if it didn’t really exist without you.

And just as she was about to head home, with the sun barely peeking out from behind the clouds, she spotted the multiple greenhouses. With one in particular that had a light striking a clear view of you inside.

Ellie pulled her hands from her pockets, a close lipped smile breaking on her face instantly.

She nudged the door with her body and her head barely visible to you from the other side.

But you felt her there. You didn’t know how, but you could tell she was standing outside the door before you saw her.

“Holy shit it's warm in here. Now I see why you always pick this over patrol.” and she watched as you plucked leaves from the tarragon plant.

“What are you doing?” you asked, not looking at her.

Your hands started to shake mildly, and you tried not to give into her eyes that burned a hole in your heart.

“Looking for you. I Thought I’d find you here.” she said, closing the door all the way (of course she'd be able to) and fumbled with her hands, a little nervous.

“I’m almost done here. I just need to take these clippings and a few other things.” your hands carry a tremble now, and Ellie can see it.

She takes a step closer to you, and it's unavoidable not to look at her now.

“Can we talk about last night?” Ellie asks with her hand flat against the workbench and her brows are pulled together in a frown.

“There's nothing to talk about. I just… I wanted to go home. I didn’t wanna bother you and Dina. you seemed like you were having fun.” as you tied the twine around the clippings, Ellie's hand covered yours on an exploded scale.

You turn your head, looking at her and seeing right through her.

“C’mon. Don’t be like that. Dina… was just being Dina. She didn’t mean anything by it.” Ellie's thumb started to form small circles on your skin, drawing you in, inch by inch.

Ellie took a small step toward you, her other hand reaching up and cooling the burning of your neck.

She leaned in toward you, and her lips grazed yours before kissing you softly. It was wrong, it was so so wrong.

You closed your eyes and a single tear rolled down your cheek fast enough to transfer to Ellie’s.

You pull your hand back from hers, taking a complete step backward and trying to conceal the tears that wanted to run down your cheeks freely.

“Do you like me, Ellie?”

The words had shocked the look off her face, only for her to reposition her brows into a confused glare.

“What?”

“Do you like me.” and there is a quiver in your voice. Her figure becomes blurry, but before she disappears completely you tilt your head and wipe your tears on the sleeve of your shirt.

“I– Yeah. Yeah, I like you. Why would I kiss you if I didn’t like you?”

“Why would Dina?”

Her head drops down between her shoulders as she sighed. She didn’t know. She didn’t. But she knew that she would rather freeze to death than lose you, she knew that much.

She pulled her lips between her teeth “I– I don’t know. I- She- Dina kissed me, okay? And she asked me to dance. I didnt– I wanted to dance with you, I wanted to…” she couldn’t say it.

“What?”

“I wanted to kiss you, alright. I wanted to even before then. Before the dance or before the stables. From the moment you got here I knew. I just didn’t know. I do now, I swear.”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to say everything, anything. Your lips were sealed with hot tears streaming down your face.

“Can you say something?” Her voice is merely a whisper like a jagged piece of ice dragging across your skin just light enough to form goosebumps.

You pinch your eyes shut and let your hands shakily wipe the salt water from your face.

“I– I… Ellie. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, this…”

She takes a small step toward you, grabbing a hold of your wrists gently enough for your back to meet the opposite wall of the greenhouse and boxing you in around the floor to ceiling plants that were on either side of you.

“Just, say something, please.” Ellie gave your wrists a little shake, freeing them from your face.

She looked worried now, and the thought of her thinking you didn’t like her sent a strike of sadness through you.

You move your hands fully away from your face and let them fall at your sides, lacing your fingers with Ellie’s slowly. She’s looking down at them, and swinging them softly from side to side.

“I… I liked you too. From the beginning I mean. In the dining hall when you sat next to me. I liked you then, I still do.” you confessed.

You felt the fire in your cheeks and you couldn’t meet Ellie’s eyes and you made way with her chest.

She leaned down an inch to place her forehead together with yours. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You let out a breath, a scoff even. “I tried! I was trying this entire time. And plus, you just said you realized you liked me. I wasn’t sure.”

Her words rang through you. You shook with anticipation.

“Is that why you left last night? Because you were jealous?” and Ellie’s voice rose to a mocking tone, tugging on your hands in a playful manner.

“Shut up. I was not.” and you look away, the smile bolted across your face proudly.

“You were! Say it, say it please! Tell me how jealous you were. C’mon, tell me tell me tell me!”

And it's then that you smash your lips against Ellie’s to meet her halfway with just the very tip of your toes.

Her lips were warm with lust, her hands breaking from yours to find the soft spots behind your ears with a swipe. Ellie exhaled into your mouth immediately and your head met the back wall of the greenhouse with a soft thud.

Her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance that was obviously unnecessary by how quickly you parted your lips for her. She rubbed slow circles over your jaw, and soon enough her hand was traveling down the curve of your hip and squeezing there. Just enough to express a moan from you.

Ellie smirked against your lips, drawing back for a breath before kissing you harder now, not hesitating or double checking for dominance. You were absolutely floored.

Your shirt had ridden up just mere inches, and her hand was met with the small piece of bare flesh there, causing you to let in a sharp inhale through your nose.

Both of Ellie’s hands are playing with the button of your jeans, fighting to get them undone and pulled down just below your pulsing cunt.

Once her hand finally finds the band of your underwear, it's over. You were already completely unfolding right in front of her.

Your mouth falls open, and a moan slips from your lips, a little louder now as you arch your back to be flush with Ellie. She bends back the band of elastic, traveling down to reach the very top of your pussy she can already feel how wet you are for her.

Just then, both of your hands fly to grip her inked forearm. A silent warning.

“Your hand… ‘s cold.” is all you can make out.

Ellie pulls back to take a look at you. You're absolutely flushed. “D’you want me to stop?” It was genuine. She wanted this to be perfect for you. She wanted to get it right.

“I– I want to keep going, but I-” and Ellie uncoiled her hand from beneath your pants to rest it on your hip.

“I don’t want you to do anything you aren’t ready for.” she let her arms straighten against you, waiting for you to reply.

“I’m ready. Really. I just don’t really wanna… do it here. It’s kinda dirty. And also probably illegal. And I really do have to take that stuff in.”

Ellie smiled. “You’re cute. Why don’t we take them together, and then, if you want, we can go hang out at mine?”

You looked at her with a tight lipped grin. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

#it’s cold here without you #ellie williams #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #ellie williams smut #tlou2 #the last of us smut #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie williams x you #bellswlw

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georgiapeach30513 · 10 months ago

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 13

Summary: Steve softens and submits

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, bit of a chase kink, teasing, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, bathtime fun, D/s dynamics, breeding kink, bit of voyeurism, mean!Steve, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*edit by @nixakimbo

You give a final smile to Bucky and Shy, and hug to your former guard. Making sure to kneel down to rub on Shy’s belly, leaning to give the bump a kiss, “You take care of your mama, little Ember. I can’t wait to hold you. Thank you for a lovely day,” you stand back up, giving Shy another hug. “Your home is lovely.”

And with that Steve nods a head to both Bucky and Shy, leading you out to the car where he opens the door up for you. He can be sweet when he wants to. When he isn’t so brooding and all business. Trying to be create a persona that is quite different to the man you were starting to learn. Days like this made you realize that there is a lot more to Steve than meets the eye. He could be soft. Just with the right people.

You suppose that is probably the safest thing to do, be cautious. For him. You just loved people, and wanted them to know. Everyone needed words of confirmation from time to time. “She looks adorable pregnant.”

“So will you,” he answers, giving you a soft smile. He could be a bit confusing with his personality. Today you are getting the sweet Steve. It had to have been seeing Bucky again. Bucky leaving Steve’s business for good seems to have affected him. He realizes how things have shifted.

“Are you sad?” He keeps his eyes on the road, and his Adam’s apple bobs while he searches for the right words.

“That you have an IUD? Of course. But I’ll let you decide when I get to fill you full of me,” you roll your eyes as your hand naturally falls into his. He is so silly. Always going back to that, and not at all what you are thinking about.

”I meant about Bucky choosing Shy over…the business,” you hesitate to say over Steve. he didn’t necessarily choose Shy over him. But in a way he did. Bucky found something more important to him than what he had been doing for years. More important than being in the business with his best friend. The business risk didn’t outweigh his love for his fiance and future family.

Steve goes silent. His sharp eyes look out in front of the car, but never respond. It hurts him too much to think that Bucky would never be a part of this world for him. “I mean, having a child is a huge responsibility. It seems like Shy makes enough money to keep them afloat. And he seems to really be right at home with her. And their kitty. We should probably get a pet. I bet it was nice for her to have a pet when Bucky was out at odd hours of the night. Especially when he was with me. Heaven knows that man has seen so much of my body, and just what you do to me. Do you think she was ever jealous of that? Have you met Shy before today? Wait, no you said that was your first time meeting her. Bucky must really love her to want to protect her from your life.”

”Dovey,” his thumb draws shapes on your hand, and you turn to look at him. He is haunted about something. About his thoughts that never left him. There is no telling the things that he has seen in this life. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

“Where are you taking me?” This isn’t the way home. “Are we going out?” he shakes his head no, and you look at him with a pout. The facial expression does get a huff of a laugh. “Steve!”

“Does this road not look familiar?” No. It didn’t. But clearly it is supposed to. You sigh, waiting on him to hopefully answer. Your body leans more into him. Letting his warmth encapsulate your nerves. Trying to think of when you had been here, and then there is something that looks familiar.

“But…where is everything else?” It is the playground. Before there were swings, slides, monkey bars, but now the only thing left standing is the bars that Steve had set you on. “Steve?”

“I held onto this place for a long time,” he places the car into park, and while you give him your full attention, he just gazes out at the almost empty park. “I met her here for the first time,” he is taking way too long to tell a story, but for the sake of him not getting pissy at you, you wait on him. Even if you feel a pang of jealousy with the simple word of her.

“She was beautiful. I hadn’t fully grown into my body yet, but she still saw me. I told you I was bullied here, but I was slowly turning it into a drop off. It was overgrown, and kids didn’t come here anymore. But Peggy did. She stayed a bit too far away. Watching. Always watching me. I got a bit cocky, and came by more often. Bought the land, so it was my private property. Employed Bucky and Sam. And I kept getting bigger, and finally she came and talked to me.”

You don’t even know Peggy, but you hate her. It isn’t even jealousy, okay maybe a little bit. But it is mostly due to the fact there’s something so off in her behavior. She just watched him for months?

“She was a simple girl, just wanted some weed. And came by regularly to get it. And then I got the courage to ask her out. We were inseparable. I fell so hard, and so fast. I was telling that woman I loved her everyday. Bucky and Sam kept telling me there was something off with her. She didn't want to move in, but she stayed at my house a lot. Didn’t seem to have a job, but I kept her up anyways. And then — fuck,” he slams his hand onto the steering wheel, leaving you without his warmth.

“A squad came barging into my house throwing shit all around, and what do you know, Peggy was the one leading them. She’d lied the whole time. Undercover for what she felt was the next up and coming drug ring. Sam and Bucky were right, and smarter than that bitch. They cleaned out my house the night before. She was the one that shoved me to the floor, got me in a submissive position on my knees and demanded for me to tell her where the drugs were. I just smiled up at her. I spent a few weeks in jail. And come to find out later she actually is dating Rumlow. Maybe she’s going to bust him, too. Maybe she actually loves him, I don’t know. But I’ve never trusted another woman. Nor been put in that position again.”

It's your turn to go silent. You hated that bitch. How dare she even touch Steve. She got all that with him. All the love and words, and before you. It shouldn’t matter, but she broke him. And the realization of him holding her actions over you. She made him not trust women so much that he couldn’t even be honest with you.

”Until you,” your head slowly turns to look at him, and he’s never seemed so torn. His eyes are glossy, and face solemn, and all you want to do is hold him. “I got on my knees for you. I have left you in my home alone. I have entertained you for months, and I’ve done everything I said that I would never do again, and it’s all been for you. I can’t — Dovey, I’m sorry, I can't say those words you deserve to hear.”

You let out an air of breath that you aren’t aware you were holding, as you search his face. He is being as candid as he can, and his hurt from being used, and lied to still lingers. But he said you deserve to hear the words.

“Steve, I told you it was enough. I will hear those words from you, but what’s more important I feel those words from you. I see them. I didn’t know about what she did to you, but I know that every time you drop to your knees to put my shoes on, it is something that isn’t easy for you, and you’ve given that to me more than once.”

“All that I told her should have been for you.”

“It will be,” your hand cups his cheek, and you place a kiss on his face. Kissing away the single tear that rolls past his lash line. She might have gotten the words, but you get the actions. “Why did you have everything from the playground removed?”

“I didn’t,” his lips turn up into a smile, but he doesn't dare to look out at the former park. His dark lashes splay across his cheeks, keeping his eyes closed, choosing to feel this moment instead of just seeing it. “That piece of equipment doesn’t look familiar? That is the first place that I stared at the face of God. It holds a special meaning to me,” you roll your eyes, attempting to turn away from his silly self when he grabs at your face. Hand on your jaw, making you look at him. His fingers are steady but not too harsh.

His eyes open slowly, and you stare at his perfectly imperfect blue eyes with their bit of green lacing through the crystal blue, “Don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you, and being sweet.”

“You’re talking about my pussy.”

Steve gives you a boop to your nose and a too innocent smile for him, “I think you mean my pussy. At least that’s what you tell me every time I fuck into you. Are you saying I don’t own this pussy anymore,” the hand holding onto your jaw falls in between your thighs, and cups your covered mound. “I do love that you wear skirts. Do you realize how easy it would be to move these panties over and…hey!”

He yells after you as you jump out of the car. Looking back at him with a playful grin. “If it’s your pussy, come and claim it!” Squealing you run away from the giant tattooed man that stomps after you. He doesn’t even have to run with his long strides. But you don’t stop.

Bobbing and weaving on the mostly empty lot. Looking back at him laughing carelessly, and you see the first genuine smile spread across his angelic face. If it wasn’t for his chiseled body covered in ink, he’d look almost boy-like. You’re glad he didn’t tattoo his face. But right now in this moment, you see him for the man he was before his harsh world crashed over him.

Crinkles at the edge of his eyes that you love to kiss. You wished you could see those lines more often. They did seem to be making an appearance more often now. His lines on his face told a story, much like the tattoos and scars that stained his skin.

He reaches out a hand to grab you, but you dodge his advance. Doing a quick twirl before you sprint away, and turn to look at him, “Is that the best you got, Rogers?”

“Now, you’ve gone too far. Take that back!” You’re almost tempted to call him that again.

“Never, daddy!” He growls, wrapping his hand around your wrist, but you slip away. “Stevie, you really are losing your touch. AHH!” You screech when both his arms wrap around you. He pulls you so tight against his body it takes your breath away. You struggle to get away, not wanting this playful Steve to disappear just yet.

Struggling so hard that the two of you slam onto the ground in a fit of giggles, “What was it that you called me, Dovey?”

“Captain,” laughing when he rolls his eyes, and shakes his head no.

“You’re such a liar,” he crows, his teeth nibbling on your neck. Playfully biting you, while demanding you admit the names you called him. “Tell me, baby,” his voice turns labored. The playful chase already over as you wiggle around in his embrace.

His thumb hooks under the elastic of your panties. And he starts to jerk down the cotton. Lifting you up a bit to fully remove them. Legs being pushed apart by his wide body, and you pull at his button, trying to release the monster cock that is straining in these jeans. “Tell me first, and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Pushing aside your hand, he pulls himself out. You yip at the sight of his pretty little piercing coated in beads of precum. Gripping the base of his cock he pumps himself a few times before rubbing his tip through your drenched center. His squishy head barely pushing through your entrance, “I called you Rogers,” his hips thrust forward, leaving you blinded by the intense and immediate stretch.

Vision is blurry. Like a filter had been laid over the world around you, and all you see is him. All you feel is his weight lowering over top of you, and his arms caging you. The cold grass tickling your backside. Senses on overdrive because he gave so much of himself to you today.

“I called you — daddy,” you scream out as he fucks into you so hard and deep his tip kisses the edge of your cervix. The one name he told you not to call him, and you would pay for your indiscretions in pleasure. You are now aware of how you haven’t fully taken all of Steve from the way he is filling you up. A perfect fit indeed as you revel in having him so purely. His hips piston him deeper into your warmth than he’s ever been. Branding you in a different way than before. This is just for you and him.

”Fuck,” Steve grouses, a hand slides up to your neck. Keeping his eyes on yours as he adds a bit of pressure. He is fighting off saying what he really wants to say. Using your body to work through his emotions. Never looking to where the two of you connect, keeping both eyes trained on you.

The softest whimper explodes out of his chest as he holds your gaze, “You’re my best friend.”

His words contradict his sharp thrusts inside of you. “You are. I trust so few, but I trust you…the most,” you preen at his words. Mewling out his name, and circling your legs around him. Allowing your body to take every part of him. Soft words with harsh movements have your body floating and unable to focus.

“I love…love spending every day with you. I don’t want to miss a day,” he is getting there. Slowly. But he is. And judging by the sparks going through your body, you’re also almost there.

“You’re my best friend, too, Captain. Now finish me,” he rams into you. Hitting you in all the right spots until your eyes go crossed, and you roll them into the back of your head. “Steve!” you scream out as your body begins to tremble. There is nothing but the two of you out here in the middle of nowhere where Steve changed your life. And now you are also changing his life.

“My pussy sure does feel good,” he smirks at you. His body slams into you, and your back skids across the ground in the most delightful pleasured pain. You owned him. He is yours. And you will do everything to protect him. This stunted man is now yours to protect. He could hide and deny it, but he is yours.

“Your pussy is only for you.”

“Good,” he growls as you arch your back into him. Bringing yourself close to him. Your body stiffens up. Everything builds to the climax. Looking deep into his beautiful eyes, he nods, “Let go, Dovey,” and everything crashes down around Steve. Your velvety walls cling tight to his thick girth, and his sticky heat fills you up.

He lets your body sink to the ground slowly, and he smirks down at you. “You’re so pretty like this. Fucked hard and dumb, and filled to the brim of…”

“Steve Rogers,” you coo. You’d let this man do whatever he wanted to you. He is powerful, scary, intimidating, but to you he’s just your Captain.

“Let’s go home, sweetie. You need a bath. You have leaves in your hair,” he picks out a leaf, holding it up to prove the mess he made. “Plus you smell like dirt. Come on,” he slowly pulls himself out of you, flicking his eyes down to look at your spread legs. “When can we take that thing out of you?”

“Steve! I have only been having sex for a couple of months. Give me at least a year.”

”I love it when you whine, but a full year?” You nod, going to stand up. Wincing as you reach for your panties he really was deep. Body wobbling, and Steve holds you upright, but still keeps your panties out of your reach, and you stomp your foot. “If I have to wait a year, you have to ride back home with no panties.”

”Steve, your cum…”

“Yes, the thought of my cum leaking out of your cunt is part of the appeal of this arrangement,” exhaling quickly, you start walking away from him. “Oh, cutie, you acting like a brat and seeing that run down your leg is turning me on again.”

“Wash me clean, and you can have your pussy again.”

”I wasn’t going to ask,” he gulps, continuing to watch you walk away. You have been the best thing that’s happened to him. The best part of him. “But I’ll always ask for permission, Dovey,” he whispers, knowing you won’t hear him. “Because I love…hearing you beg.”

Steve’s hands squeeze on your foot, and he sighs when you can’t control the sounds that hum out of your mouth. “You’re the one causing those sounds,” your brow cocks up as you stare at him over the bubbles. “Can you be here with me all the time?”

“If you’ll let me suck on your clit underwater.”

You stare at him both confused and shocked. No way was he going under the water for such a thing, nor did you want his face between your legs right now. He starts to move his body from across the tub, closer to you, and you shake your head no.

“Do you doubt my abilities?”

“Not at all. I know you’d die in between my thighs and think it was the best death in the world. But I’d rather you not die,” or have him be where he was wanting his face be.

He blinks once slowly before getting even closer. Looking more like a predator than your boyfriend, “Steve, no!”

“Then sit on the ledge of the bathtub.”

“I’ll get cold.”

“Then dry off and I’ll feast on my pussy in the bed.”

“Can you give me a few more moments in here? Alone?” " He shakes his head no. “Why not?”

“Why the fuck do you want to stay in the tub?” Because you needed to. Did he not get you needed private time sometimes?

“I have something I need to do, and I don’t want you in here,” pursing his lips, he narrows his eyes while watching you. Making you uncomfortable with how hard he’s staring at you. “Stop! Get out, and give me just a moment.”

“What do you need to do that I can’t see?”

“Seriously?” He scoots a bit closer to you, and you push your foot up against his chest, holding him in place. All the while knowing that this would not keep him away from you, “What are you doing?”

“Going to suck on your clit,” like it is the most obvious answer in the world. Shaking your head no, Steve sighs. “You know I could lift you up and make you do whatever I want you to, so why don’t you explain to me what the problem is, and why you don’t want me to touch you right now?”

You take a long look at Steve, sighing before looking down at the bubbles. Steve had done so much to break down your walls. He had made you a completely different person, a stronger person. He had turned your world upside down. Had just been inside of you, but you don’t want his face down there.

“Dovey?”

“I need to shave,” Steve scoffs, trying to push his body towards you. “Steve, stop. I don’t want your face there.”

“Does it look like I care about a little bit of hair. Let me suck your clit.”

“No.”

“Even though you’re pissing me off, I do think I have found the perfect woman. Because you, my darling, don’t put up with my bullshit. How does it feel to be the only woman that has ever tamed Steve Rogers? Don’t,” the timbre of his voice lowers when you cross your arms across your chest.

He stares deep into your eyes as he gets a bit closer to you. Gaze never leaves yours, but he uses a hand to cup your mound. His fingers roll over your entrance as he tilts his head watching you, “It’s not that bad.”

“It is to me, and I haven’t even found the energy to get away from you to shave.”

“Since I’m such a menace to you, let me shave you,” it is a simple statement and said so easily, but the audacity of this man.

“No.”

“You’re being a brat.”

“It’s one of your favorite things about me.”

“I’m a bigger fan of my pussy. Let me shave you. I’ll get it how you like it because frankly, I don’t get a damn. But I also get to see the face of god,” he’s relentless. Ridiculous even. A menace for you. And the way his eyes flick all over your face, and he never once pushes past your entrance, just lazily taps his fingers on it. “It will be so fucking sexy.”

You’re doubtful of that. You also don’t trust that Steve won’t try to devour you, regardless of what you want. “I want to do it, Dove. I will bow down before you and shave every inch of you if that is what you want. I want to be in every part of your life. Even the parts that you find embarrassing. Because all I know is I get to spend even more time with my favorite girl. Please, Dovey. I’m begging you, please, let me shave your pussy.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you sigh, biting at your lip.

“Neither have I. You get another one of my firsts. Just…just sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll be careful,” he wouldn’t stop until you give him what he wants. And there’s something adorably sexy about him wanting to take care of you in the most intimate and simple way. You want him to.

Taking a deep breath you lift yourself onto the side of the tub. Spreading your legs slowly as Steve’s face beams up at you as his eyes drift all over your body. Watching as the suds coast down your soft curves. Consuming you with his eyes alone.

“This is not that bad. But let me take care of you,” he reaches for the razor and runs a smooth hand over your mound. His thumb teases along your clit, and you can’t help but whimper out his name. “Shh, don’t make that sound just yet, Dovey,” sudding up some soap, he spreads it over your skin. Making sure to coat every bit of your exposed skin with the foam, and his hands expertly move the razor over your supple body. Making sure to clean it after every pass.

Even though you know it is killing him, he never makes a lewd joke. He doesn’t slip a finger in, it’s like this is his job. It’s fascinating to watch him. He keeps looking up at you through those inky black lashes making sure you're grading his work. And when he’s not looking at you, his tongue pushes out the front of his mouth in concentration, and you commit this moment to your memory. He looks adorable.

He always does wheng a he’s not trying to be this hard drug lord. There’s a sweetness, and a loyalty to him. This need to control, but also a need to protect and take care of you. You position yourself to lean back more, and he growls, rolling his eyes to look up at you. “This isn’t funny. You’re already torturing me.”

“I enjoy the view,” this big bad drug lord was down on his knees, and just for you. Towering above you, or bowing before you. Submissive only for you, or your fearless dominating Captain. He was all yours.

“You’re a fucking tease, too,” Steve’s hand drops into the water, giving you a clear view of his hard and angry cock under the water. “You’re killing me.”

“I enjoy you from this angle.”

“You enjoy me worshiping you right at the face of god. You’re a sweet little tease. Has her pussy spread out deliciously before me, and making me shave you. Dove, the water isn’t fooling anyone,” you hum as he lets water drip over your body, washing away the remaining bubbles before he spreads your puffy lips out. Keeping you wide open before looking up at you.

“You’re dripping. Coated in that sweet honey because all you can think about is me fucking into you so hard and deep that my sweet little Dovey falls asleep, huh? Do you like me on my knees in front of you, and taking care of you in this way?” You answer by nodding your head. He knew you too well. You’d let him command you because you knew he had these sweet moments ready to remind you it isn’t just your cunt that keeps him obsessed.

“Dove, you’re no longer in the water, and I can’t attempt to deep sea suck on your clit.”

“You are ruining a sweet moment, Steven,” Steve adjusts to his knees, letting his heavy cock rub against your leg, and your legs spread even more, “Steve,” a whispered whine escapes your mouth, and you start going into that space where he controls your every thought and movement. Making everything about pleasing him because you get the utmost pleasure.

“I will try that one day. But you need to be fucked like my sweet little slut don’t you,” your head nods. A mess of words tumbles out of your mouth, and he stands up. Cock and piercing right at your face, and you whimper. Leaning forward you kiss the tip, sticking your tongue out to lick the vein on his cock. Looking up at him through your lashes when you tongue his slit.

“You sure do love Clarence, huh?”

“He loves me, too. Doesn’t he?”

“Clarence loves and adores you,” stepping out of the tub, he turns to you, lifting you up in his arms. He carries you into the bedroom, ripping open the curtains so you can see the woods and the moonlight creating silvery light into your room. Turning to the bed, he sets you on your knees.

“Put your head on the bed, and keep your eyes on me. You’ve teased me for too long,” you do as you're told, receiving a smile, and a soft slap to your pussy, “Such a good girl for me. As much as I love your fight, when you get in this space and will do anything just for this,” he spears into you with such a hard and deep thrust, your body scoots onto the bed.

Fingers cling to the sheets as Steve pulls himself out of you, “And what my Dovey wants,” another sharp thrust has you seeing stars. Stretched out, and that cool metal grazes over your cervix, “She gets,” gripping onto your hips he pounds into your depths.

Such frenzied movements. You aren’t sure if you have ever taken him so fully like this. So deep. So full. So aggressive in his movements. “And I…soon — soon you’ll have that thing removed and I will pump you so full of me that I start growing in your belly. You’ll be so filled with all of me. Something I have never done. You’ll get it all.”

His voice is gravely despite the words coming out of them. He means every bit of it. Making you understand and know that you are his world. Giving you all that he can, and more than he has to anyone else.

“I will do whatever it takes for you, Dovey. Anything to keep you safe. But you will always be mine. There will never be another. No one can ever treat you the way that I do. I own every part of you, all the way down to your soul. We’re bonded together. In this life and the next. I’m yours, but you’re mine. All of you. Every bit of your every being. It’s all mine. All. Mine.”

”It’s all yours,” you let out a scream of pleasure. Trying to get a grip on anything because the build up for the orgasm has you on edge. Your body tenses as euphoria builds up in your body. All the way deep into your soul. The most lewd, but also innocent form of being together. Searing himself throughout your body. And you didn’t even realize just how much you are burning yourself into his world. When he said anything, he meant it. You will always be his first thought.

No one has every had this much of Steve. And he would do whatever it took to keep you safe. The first and last thoughts on his mind are always you. Everything was just you. With your body almost flat on the bed now, he stabs into you, spurting his seed into your warmth and letting you milk him clean.

Losing a bit of himself in the moment, “God, I love…this,” he pants out. Watching your eyes close, and a derpy smile on your face. “I love it.”

You sleep so soundly. Can’t even feel Steve ghosting his lips over your worn body. You never complained about how much that he needs and uses you. You always just let him have whatever he wants. Even if you’re asleep he’s going to make sure that he spoils you with his touch. The only way he can show you how much he loves you, even if he can’t say it.

Not the way he sinks into you, but these moments. The ones where you’re softly snoring, and he’s staring over your body and painting your skin with his kisses like you are the most beautiful work of art. He wants to cover you in his — touch. He is working on it. He wants to give you what you need from him. He wants it more than he wants sleep. And one day he’ll find the way to give you all you deserve.

He didn’t bother closing the curtains and blinds. You love watching the woods outside to fall asleep. Saying that it makes you feel closer to him because it was just the two of you and the creatures.

He blinks, looking out into the distance when a flash of light catches his eye. Staring down onto the forest floor when he slings the blanket off him. Taking a moment to make sure you’re still asleep before he walks out the cabin. Teeth already clenched together as he marches down into the darkness.

Stopping when he squares up against a woman that once upon a time could have looked just like you. Her eyes lifeless as her sight moves from the bedroom window to Steve, “Didn’t bother to put a shirt on did you?”

He glares at her, snapping his fingers in her face when she looks back up at your sleeping form, “I need some money.”

“I told you I wasn’t giving you money,” his voice is quick and final, and she pouts up at him.

“She gets money.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Oh right, she lets you use her,” every conversation starts the same with her. Always money. Always he uses you. “Does she know?”

“That I paid for a fucking apartment and you trashed it, and got kicked out? No. I told her I would keep you safe. I don’t know what the fuck all that does because you can’t keep you goddamn nose clean. Let me see in between your fingers.”

“Fuck you!” Steve didn’t have to see. He could tell by the state of her, she’s no longer clean. A junkie that had nothing to lose and knew where he lived was dangerous.

“Why are you here, Lark? How did you know about our home?” She cocks up her eyebrow, looking Steve up and done before staring at his brand. “Yes, ours. How did you find this place?”

“I know people. Pussy gets you a lot of things. Ask my sister,” if she wasn’t a woman Steve would have backhand her.

“My patience is growing thin. What the fuck did you want,” she looks back up at your sleeping body, conflicted with emotions at how comfortable and unknowing you are. Did you even realize the shit Steve was into? Or did you just not care? The people that Steve employed? What they could do to you. “Lark!”

“Since you won’t give me money, we’re done here. I’m surprised you left her unattended. Did you remember to lock the door?” A more sinister person would smile, but Lark seems sad. Waiting for Steve to gasp before he bolts back towards the house. The door now wide open, and he sneaks around the room. Checking every dark corner before slinging the bedroom door open. You’re still asleep and none the wiser, but he can’t relax.

Needing to check the bathroom and closets, and keep turning back to you. Still relaxed and dreaming. Unaware of the turmoil that is going through his head at someone having the ability to hurt you. Didn’t even feel he had the right to crawl back in the bed beside you, or even hold you.

“Steve?” You whisper, turning in the bed to look at him. Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, “Baby, get back in bed. Can you close the curtains?”

“Yeah,” he says, telling himself the curtains will never be open again. Looking out into the woods, he wonders how Lark got here. Where she was at and where she was going. She was up to something. She wasn’t alone. He made promises to you to never hurt her, but if it comes between you and her, she will be eliminated.

“Take the sweatpants off, too,” you hated when he wears clothes to bed when you’re naked. As he tosses his pants to the side, they hit the dresser, knocking something into the floor. “The hamper, Steve.”

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice is quiet and solemn, and he doesn’t pay attention to the envelope that floats to the floor. “Let me set the alarm though.”

You’ll never be left unattended. He’d have you with him every second. You were all that mattered to him. “Mmm,” you moan, unaware of what transpired tonight. And even he wasn’t sure, but he would be soon.

Masterlist

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