#the link will only make the two of you stronger

[serendipitous-seven]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, he’s good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it, Jungkook? Most couples-”

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

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

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

You chew on the inside of your lip.

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

It sounds perfect.

But…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite your lip, “You don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’m talking about you and me…’

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

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

And the answer is always yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You round your eyes, “everything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A long sigh escapes you, nodding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mai just nods.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, shaking his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So are you, he thinks to himself.

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

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

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

He questions you with a look.

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

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

“Jungkook,” you breathe tirelessly.

“Need a favor,” he laughs, “for Mai.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

He tongues his cheek, “Really?”

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

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

Your eyes pop open, “By myself?”

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

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

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

Building and a show?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your mouth drops open, “How?”

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

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

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

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

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

He clears his throat, “waiting…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He breathes a broken apology, “I misread-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what was stopping you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not going into grave detail-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously-”

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

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

“Nic-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook rocks back on his feet, agreeing quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mai nods again, “but don’t tell her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kook,” you stutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have the right to say no-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mai,” you laugh, “really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She shrugs, mumbling, ‘I don’t know.’

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

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

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

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

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

You brush the comment away, clearing your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You couldn’t deny it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did she just smack her friend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quietly. Silently.

It all adds up.

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

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

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

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

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

Four teeth missing, you think to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bite your lip when it starts to tremble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me too.” You whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby?” He calls from the hallway.

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

“You forgot a box-“ he says.

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

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

You laugh, “I’ve got them all here…“ Your breath stills in your throat, forcing you to stop when your eyes drop to the small box in his hand.

The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, everything begins to move slowly, “Kook- wh-what is that, what are you do-“

Jungkook lowers to one knee and opens the box to reveal a ring, breath shaking out of him when he starts to speak, “I love you,” a nervous giggle interrupts him, “baby, it’s you and me, it’s always going to be us - will you marry me?”

Mai can’t stop her giggles while yours hiccup out of you, nerves tingling in your fingers, causing you to drop the blouse in your hands, “are you serious?”

All he can do is nod, swallowed by his own nerves, while Mai can’t contain herself.

“Yes- what? Yes, Jungkook,” you start to cry, emotions pulled between disbelief and sheer ecstasy. Mai’s excitement explodes, jumping around the two of you when Jungkook stands and swallows you in a hug. She wraps her arms around your bodies, cheering into her dad’s side.

An unexplained peace rushes you when you pull Jungkook back to look at him. All you can see for that moment in time is the man you love, you see his tears and feel his arms around you. He mouths an ‘I love you,’ that has you doing the same, Mai’s joyous noises pressed into both of you while you share your quiet moment.

You and Jungkook breathe small laughs while setting the dining table when Mai answers the door for her grandparents, shouting, “She said yes she said yes!” Before greeting them properly. Jungkook’s arm wraps around your hip when he goes to kiss the side of your head, “think she’s more excited than us,” he teases.

After dinner, the five of you end the evening out in the backyard, your hand feeling sore from the way Mrs. Jeon and Mai take turns to gawk at your ring.

“Excited to start at your new school soon, bug?” Mr. Jeon gleamed at his granddaughter who sat on his lap. Mai jostles her head with an eager nod, “One more week!” She announces.

Jungkook rubs your shoulder, the three of you laughing. You nestle into his side, enjoying this feeling.

The night grows quieter with ease. Feeling Jungkook’s eyes on you has you nearly forgetting that his family is there too while they coddle Mai.

There is a shift inside of you when you look back at him. All of these months since having that conversation, focusing on Mai’s healing while figuring out the reigns to your relationship together, every measure of his commitment you’ve felt, it overwhelms you. It sits brighter than the ring on your finger, though catching glimpses of it still makes your heart stutter.

This feeling blooms inside of you, it brushes your skin in a tickling rush, causing you to sink further into Jungkook’s embrace.

“I love you,” you whisper to him.

He senses it, uncaring for those next few seconds as he kisses you. With a passing glance from Mrs. Jeon, she just smiles to herself, distracting Mai further.

What’s desired is expressed through fluttering blinks, left to wondering minds between you and Jungkook as you share the rest of the evening with his family. Subtle hints are given through passing touches or the way your fingers sneak beneath the collar of his t-shirt to touch the space below his neck.

“I’m really happy,” Mai tells you once in bed for the night, her small hands mushing your cheeks together.

“You make me happy, bean,” you snort into her skin, causing her to yelp.

“Night, my baby,” Jungkook bends down to kiss her, “sleep tight.”

“I won’t let the bedbugs bite,” Mai repeats their ever-famous tag line before whispering final good nights.

There’s only a breath of space between you and your true love when you shut the door to Mai’s bedroom.

“Hey.” You breathe, eyes drunk with love, and you can see his pupils dilate at the mere sound of your voice.

You chuckle, shaking your head because this man has you wrapped up in safety and love. It takes your breath away and all you want in that moment is to have him feel the same.

Every motion you and Jungkook make is done with utmost consideration for each other. Nerves bind with excitement. Sighs mingled with giggles. When he feels you move in haste, he reminds you there’s time. Allowing yourself to become lost in vulnerability beneath the captor of your heart. Your willing heart becomes exposed because you want more than anything to show every part of it to Jungkook.

He handles you carefully, both with his hands and in heart. Because he knows that most fragile part of you now sits inside his palms. A few times his breath stops when he peers down at you, your hair splayed over the pillows, sparkling eyes beaming up at him. He starts to feel what’s left of those insecurities wash away until they cease to exist.

All he can feel with each tender brush of skin and lasting kiss is pure and absolute love.

A sweet smile spreads across your face when a sleeping Jungkook falls into your sight, his mouth slightly agape. You move your hand up and push your fingers through his growing hair, rolling your eyes because who knows how your man’s hair will look next week.

You always wondered what this would be like. Being the first to wake up, still a little too early in the morning, but the first thing you’re drawn to is the person lying next to you, lightly snoring. How drunk you would feel off the sheer love shared with this person, but of course, the person in mind was always your best friend. Back then, it was a mere fantasy, one you were certain would never see the light of day but would stay buried only in the deepest part of your mind.

Now, nerves tingle through your body and you can feel the sheet laid over your bodies. It feels exciting and still, a little terrifying.

Jungkook begins to stir beneath your touch, groaning. You come to, only to be reduced to a puddle when he wraps his hand around your forearm to pull you close to him. His skin is warm from the mattress, and perhaps lasting traces are carried over from last night.

“So early,” he mutters, kissing your hand that is held in his.

You peer over at the clock on his side of the bed, haze immediately broken when you note the time, knowing Mai will be up soon. The first place she travels to is her dad’s room - your room- for a morning cuddle with the two of you. You hope she never grows out of it, and for a second, your heart aches at the thought of her turning 8 soon.

But today it’s different, and you’re horrified suddenly by the thought of your bare bodies shielded only by a thin sheet. Jungkook opens one eye when he feels you move the sheet off of you, ready to swing your legs off the bed when he stops you, gently holding you by the wrist and bringing you back to the warmth of his chest, “Where are you going?” He whines, his morning voice sits close to your ear.

You push him away despite every part of you craving to stay glued to the love of your life; “Kook, I should get up before Mai comes in here-“ you peel your wrist away from his strong but mindful grip, eliciting a more serious tone from him.

“Hey-“ he proves to be the stronger one, his careful approach bringing you back to him, looking at you with soft, tired eyes. He pulls your chin between his fingers, mouth hovering over yours- that smile, those eyes, he’s irresistible when you hear him whisper, “kiss me.”

And so you do, a few times before he finally looks at you again; “just relax-” his appeal is slow, conscious of you, “stay in bed.“

The part of you that’s scared wants to keep fighting it but the way he’s looking at you speaks volumes to the part that feels safe there. Now, a year ago, when Jungkook was telling you he was in love with you too, and learning what all of that meant in the time following, the sheer terror of intimacy with Jungkook. It ceased to exist right here. You wondered if you would ever make it here, the morning following a night like last night.

Would you wake up steeped in deep regret, despite sharing it with the person you’ve loved for far too long? Or would it be pure ecstasy, a heated blush still rushing through your body as you recall every action.

Jungkook is still holding you close, a glazed look in his eye as he keeps you inside the haven he’s created in his hands, just for you.

You can’t help but smile, knowing you were feeling the latter.

“Baby?” You finally speak, and it surprises him, making him jump. You laugh, cooing over him before apologizing with a kiss to his chest.

“Mhm?” He chuckles, fingers combing through your hair.

“This was perfect,” you draw small circles over his pec, noting the goosebumps that form over his skin from your languorous touch, “you’re perfect for me.”

He stops breathing for a second, and in the next your world is spinning when he moves you to lie on your back as he hovers over you. Your eyes are wide, which makes him giggle, his eyes falling with the sweetest expression on his face. You know he’s feeling blissful.

“You think so?” He queries with a smirk.

You simply nod, reaching up to caress the side of his neck and cheek.

All he can do is respond with a kiss- maybe three. By the time he’s done, you’re left in a giggling heap beneath him, begging him to stop his teasing touches as he runs his fingers up and down your sides.

A light knock at the bedroom door sends him flying off you and nearly off the bed.

Mai’s soft voice follows behind it, “Daddy?”

You rip the sheet away from Jungkook and drape it around yourself, leaving him with nothing but a belly laugh as he watches your panic; “I told you!” You scold him between clenched teeth. He can’t help but find your modesty endearing, watching you run to the bathroom while he finds clothes to put on.

“Morning, bean,” he greets his little girl at the door, picking her up and holding her in his arms for a moment. He loves how she smells in the morning, the scent of her shampoo from last night’s bath still in her hair, how she yawns into his shoulder before croaking a good morning back to him.

She asks for you, and he smiles, “showering,” he answers.

Mai gasps and sits up in her dad’s arms, mouth round as she says, “Let’s surprise her and make her waffles!”

Jungkook kisses Mai’s forehead, beside himself, before agreeing.

So, there are still things you have to get used to. You laugh at yourself while in the shower, lathering shampoo into your hair. A part of you doesn’t want to wash away what Jungkook impressed upon your skin. The way he muttered words of love against your stomach, or how his warm breath tickled your bare shoulder with his future vows to you.

His voice replays in your ear where he kissed you, “you and me.”

[ghostbeam]

Mech pilot yuuta and his mech that’s incredibly possessive over him. He takes to you as a handler almost immediately, excited for the help after his last few handlers were scared off. You’re not allowed inside, your constantly dodging malfunctioning limbs and faulty wires, but you’re not one to back down, and gaining her trust is just as important as gaining his.

Rika only realizes how important you are to Yuuta the day after you spend the night with him, and he’s left alone in the morning with an empty bed and a broken heart. You’re his handler. You’re not supposed to leave him. Not ever.

She lures you into her chest one night, faking some sort of lighting malfunction and allowing you inside for the first time. She keeps you inside all night, enduring all your yelling and banging on her insides to be let out, a nice gift for Yuuta.

[driverlando]

✧.* THE FAN DIARIES

synopsis- in which nothing escapes the eyes of the devoted (Oscar Piastri x f!reader)

before you continue: I hope you enjoy this new smau series where I delve into stories from fans about the couples throughout the years!! it’s been so fun <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

✧.* 2022- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2023- boyfriend and girlfriend

✧.* 2024-boyfriend and girlfriend

—

✧.* 2026- engaged

Formula 1 Star Oscar Piastri Engaged to Supermodel Y/N Y/L/N? Fans Spot a Ring in Public!

By: Sasha, Rumour Radar

In the fast-paced world of Formula 1, it’s not unusual for drivers to make headlines both on and off the track. But when it comes to Oscar Piastri, the young McLaren driver known for his cool demeanour and precise driving, the latest buzz isn’t about his lap times—it’s about his love life.

Over the weekend, Piastri was spotted in a casual but intimate moment with none other than international supermodel Y/N Y/L/N, setting the rumour mill ablaze with speculation that the two are secretly engaged. The couple, who have been dating since 2022 and have been notoriously private about their relationship, were seen shopping together at a quaint boutique in Monaco, sparking a flurry of excitement among fans.

The sighting was innocent enough: Oscar and Y/N, both dressed in laid-back summer attire, were browsing through a selection of home goods. Witnesses described them as "completely at ease," sharing laughs as they picked out items for what appeared to be a shared living space. But it wasn’t the domesticity of their outing that caught fans’ attention—it was the sparkling ring adorning Y/N’s left hand.

Eagle-eyed fans quickly took to social media, sharing photos and videos of the couple from the outing. The ring in question, a delicate but undeniably stunning diamond set in a simple band, has led many to believe that the pair might be engaged.

"Did anyone else see that rock on Y/N’s finger?!" one fan tweeted, alongside a blurry but revealing image of the couple holding hands. "Oscar and Y/N engaged?? This is HUGE!"

While neither Oscar nor Y/N have confirmed or denied the engagement rumours, the speculation has only grown stronger. Some fans have pointed out that the couple has been spending more time together in recent months, often seen in each other’s company at high-profile events, as well as more low-key, everyday outings like this one.

"It's not just the ring," another fan commented in a viral TikTok video analysing the couple's body language. "They look so comfortable together, like they've moved past just dating and are really solidifying their relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning a wedding!"

Despite their best efforts to keep their romance under wraps, Oscar and Y/N have become one of the most talked-about couples in the world of sports and fashion. The Australian F1 prodigy and the glamorous supermodel have been linked since early 2022, though they've kept their relationship out of the limelight, only occasionally giving fans glimpses into their private lives.

The rumour of their engagement isn’t the first time the pair has sparked speculation. Last December, they were photographed together on a secluded beach getaway in the Maldives, fuelling rumours of a blossoming romance. And earlier this year, Y/N was spotted cheering Oscar on from the McLaren paddock during the Monaco Grand Prix, further solidifying her status as his number one fan.

For now, Oscar and Y/N have remained tight-lipped about the swirling engagement rumours, leaving fans to speculate and hope for a confirmation. But if the ring on Y/N’s finger is anything to go by, it seems the couple might just be ready to take their relationship to the next level.

As the Formula 1 season continues to heat up, so too does the curiosity surrounding one of its rising stars. Whether or not the engagement rumours are true, one thing is certain: all eyes will be on Oscar Piastri and Y/N Y/L/N as they navigate life both on and off the track.

Stay tuned to Rumour Radar for the latest updates on this unfolding story and more celebrity gossip.

—

✧.* 2028 - husband and wife

✧.* 2030- parents

—

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

ANOTHER WORD FOR HOMESICK (I WANT TO SAY YOUR NAME AGAIN) | M. BACHIRA

☼ tags ; omegaverse, afab + fem!omega!!reader, alpha!bachira, childhood friends to lovers, established reader backstory, coming-of-age, romance, mutual pining, implicit sexual content (virginity loss to an oc), explicit sexual content ft. bonding, knotting, penetration, oral (f!recieving), fingering, praise, lovey dovey dirty talk, petnames (mostly baby) 18+

++ notes: readers appearance is mostly non-descript but they are shorter than bachira and have several piercings and a tattoo which are explained in story.

☼ content warnings ; lore applicable sexism, sexual harassment of reader as a minor (details in authors note, explained further in extended authors note), lore applicable homophobia, implied bisexuality + referenced mutual queerness queerness, underage drinking, heat / estrus as a symptom of puberty

please thoroughly read content warnings and tags before clicking read more.

THIS IS PART ONE. CLICK HERE TO HERE PART TWO.

☼ ao3 link | extended authors note | fics for gaza

☼ wc ; 16.4k / 33.2k

☼ a/n ; sorry for the incredibly long wait. as always i got extremely carried away. but cheers for fujoneet reader coming after this! written as part of the @ficsforgaza intiative

as mentioned above, there is a scene in this part of the fic that has reader experiencing their first heat as a minor omega during their heat.

they are being sexually harassed underage. if you find this content may be too triggering to you - the scene starts at the the [ THIRTEEN ] subheader and ends indicated with ***.

☼ synopsis ; you can't decide on how you feel about alphas, but your resentment or discomfort around them grows stronger over time as an omega who presented particularly young

maybe that's why you feel so devastated upon hearing the news that bachira, your childhood best friend, had been hiding his alpha status from you your whole life.

PART ONE: MAY THE BRIDGES I HAVE BURNED..

[ NINE]  

A car speeds past you when you turn the corner. Too fast, you watch it skid to a stop at a red light and feel your face grow flush. You tuck your chin into the collar of your coat, cold numbing your senses.  

The mailman is at your door by the time you walk home. He smiles courteously and hands you the mail directly when you approach your front gate. You bow to him politely before taking it, the cold making your eyes water.  

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” He says. Nakamura oji-chan has been running mail to this route since you were a little baby. Mama said he has a grandchild now so he works less hours. You’re glad to see him. “You’ve grown so big. What year are you in now?”  

You hold up four fingers. “Fourth year. I’m nine,”  

“You’re growing up well, then huh? That’s good.”  

You’re not tall enough to reach the kitchen cabinets at the highest height and still losing baby teeth but other than that you think it’s pretty okay, so you nod. He laughs before turning to leave, and you make sure to stand in front of the door before he goes to be polite. 

You shuffle through the mail as you walk inside. Warm air makes your face tingle. There’s two letters for you today. They’re addressed to your parents, but they’ve got your name on them so you think it’s okay to call them yours. One letter is from the hospital, but there’s another one too.  

You don’t know what it is. It’s in a separate black envelope with a raised seal along and government postage. There’s some stuff for nii-chan and mama - plus some coupons that papa gets from a subscription service.  

You announce yourself loudly once you’ve looked through it all. Only papa’s brown shoes are in the rack which means he’s the only one home.  

 Slipping your shoes off, you slide your feet into brand new Doraemon slippers and prop your bag up against the couch in the living room before finally hanging up your coat. Your tummy rumbles after you regain feeling in your fingers, and you decide the nap can be pushed back till after snack time making your way towards the kitchen.  

You make sure to take the mail with you. Mama always tell you to leave it on the counter so she can take a look when she’s home. You’re good at remembering this.  

Papa is working at the dining table when you come in. He works on a fancy computer from home some days. He smiles when he sees you, bright eyes pointed toward you. You decide to hand him the mail directly.  

“Hey, sweetie.” His smile is soft. Ripe oranges sit for you on the counter, cut evenly on your favorite plate. Papa nudges them towards you with a smile. Quickly, you run to wash your hands and sit adjacent to him upon return. You start snacking on your oranges, wondering if he sliced them for you or just to eat. You sit folded up in the dining room chair as papa pats your head per routine. “How was school?”  

You look down. “It was okay. We learned about praying mantis bugs. My friends thought they were scary but I thought they were cool, at least a little…” 

Papa sits and waits for you to say more expectantly. You shrug, unable to think of anything more to say.  

“They are, aren’t they? They’re really important to our eco-system.” Papa says. You nod. He starts to explain more to you about praying mantis bugs and you do your best to listen even as you feel your eyelids start to droop. You get sleepy early in winter because it’s dark so fast.  

Even though you’re not listening too closely, you notice papa stops talking half-way through a sentence. You peek at him through your lashes. He’s holding the special envelope from before. Papa is very quiet when he reads it.  

“What’re you reading?”  

His eyes go wide. You wonder if papa is also tired, since he seems so surprised you’re there. His brows are furrow - putting the letter face down on the dining room table. He’s silent for a long time, though you don’t fuss to ask again. 

“We got some important news in the mail,” Papa says quietly. He seems a little different somehow. “We’ll sit down when and talk about it when mama gets home, okay?”  

“Am I in trouble?”  

He smiles at you like normal this time but he still seems a little sad. “Not at all sweetheart. It’s just an important talk so I think we should be all together. Is that okay?”  

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You tell him, looking down at your lap trying to figure out what to say so he stops seeming sad. “It’ll be okay, papa.”  

Briefly surprised, he smiles again, using his hand on your face to pull you close to him wet kiss on your temple that you take in stride. You’re glad he seems to feel better. 

“That’s right, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”  

_ 

When mama comes home, her and papa sit and talk for a long time in the kitchen. They send you to nii-chans room. Predictably, he turns you away when you knock on his door and goes down to complain to your parents. You think that whatever happened must be more serious than you thought, since he comes back up and lets you sit in his room without complain upon return. 

 Nii-chan rarely invites you to do things with him by yourself, so you’re surprised when he invites you to his lap so you can watch him play games.  

Mama always says he’s just going through a phase when he’s being mean. You think that makes sense. You’re happy when he’s nice, though.  

After a while, papa comes to get you. Him and nii-chan talk in whispers about something and take not-so-subtle glances.  

Papa starts to explain a little to you as you go down stairs, holding his hand. He squeezes it tighter than normal. 

“Do you know what an omega is, sweetheart?”  

 You nod. You’ve got a vague understanding at least. Nii-chan is an alpha, papa is an omega and mama is a beta. It was hard for mama and papa to have you, so they consider you both miracles.  

“Well, today, we got news about what you are,” Papa says. He tries to smile. “And you’re an omega like me.’ 

“Oh,” You say. You look up at him as you walk down the stairs. “Is that bad?”  

He shakes his head when you ask, but strangely doesn’t end up saying no directly.  

__  

After you find out you’re an omega, nii-chan walks you to school for a few weeks.  

You find this to be very strange for several reasons.  

For one, nii-chan doesn’t really like school and he doesn’t seem to like spending time with you either. He started going this year, you think - something mama had said about getting his life sorted. Either way, he clearly doesn’t want to be going at all.  

So, it doesn’t make sense when he starts accompanying you even a little. 

“I can walk to school by myself,” You say, not really meaning anything by it. He stares down at you. You aren’t sure why he’s so mad. Nii-chan always seems a litle bit mad at everything. You wonder if all alphas are like that.  

“Don’t be annoying,” He says, harsh. You bite your tongue and turn your gaze to the sidewalk under your feet.  

“I’m not being annoying,” You clutch the straps of your bag, because you’re not. He’s the one who suddenly decided to walk you, which makes him the more annoying one. Plus, he’s always causing trouble at home anyway, not you. 

“Didn’t they explain to you that you’re an omega?”  

You look up at him confused wondering why it matters. He stares at you for a long time, and even gets angry again before scratching the back of his neck. His hand comes down to the top of your head and you flinch, expecting him to mess your hair up but he pats it instead.  

“Stupid brat,” He sighs after that. You huff but try not to let it show. “Worry about yourself and shut up.”  

__  

[ TEN ] 

 There’s a playground near your house that’s a few minutes walk. It has a rusty swing set but a nice slide. Most importantly, there’s a patch of concrete you can jump rope and draw on. You like going there most of all with Miki-chan. Not today though. Miki-chan is out of town to visit her granny in Osaka. 

Nii-chan offered to take you but you usually refuse him. It’s not to be mean, but just because doing things with nii-chan always makes you a little sad.  

He’s moved from home now, but you still feel weird when you see him since he hasn’t liked you all this time. Mama tells you not to hold it against him - and that you’ll understand him better when you’re older. You hope that’s true. You try not to hold it against him.  

But it doesn’t mean you want him with you at the park.  

(You feel especially dejected when nii-chan acts cold to you but you can’t be sure why. Papa says it probably has something to do with your hormones, since nii-chan is an alpha. Something about packbonding. You don’t quite get it.  

It’s starting to feel like every problem you have is because of being an omega, but you try to keep that thought to yourself so you don’t make papa sad.)  

You bring your jump ropes and chalk along with you. The sky is half-blue, half-grey. You wonder if it might rain on your way there or if it’ll be blue and warm all over by then. You like the rain, but you’d prefer sunshine today so you can draw with chalk.  

You think of things to do. You’ll sit on the swings first then jump rope, thenn draw. Or maybe it will rain and you’ll have to run home. You hope you didn’t jinx yourself.  

Your neighborhood is small so you know the names and faces of all the kids there. Even the little ones who are in the grades beneath yours. Mama tells you it’s important to know your neighbors. You aren’t really trying to remember for that reason, though. It’s more like it bugs you not to know. You’re always like that.  

Papa uses the word meticulous to describe you. Meh-tick-you-lus. It’s easy to say but hard to spell. 

 (Nii-chan says you’re just acting like an omega when you do things like that. This makes your parents upset, especially papa. You never take nii-chan seriously when he complains though. He complains about everything.)   

When you arrive at the playground, there’s a boy on the grass playing with a soccer ball by himself. You’ve never seen him before. He’s got big wide-eyes and a shock of yellow hair underneath which is super cool. His hair is long, just a little shorter than yours and he even has bangs. You wonder if he’s an omega too, since you’ve only seen omega boys be that pretty.  

Your heart beat fasts. It’d be nice to make a new friend, though you’re a bit unsure what to say. You’re a little nervous to approach him but you reason it’d be stranger not to.  

“Hi,” 

The boy stops playing with his ball, doing a trick to kick it up into his hands. He’s cool. Or at least very interesting. His eyes are bright, dark brown with a touch of yellow like his hair. You wonder if grows like that or if he’s allowed to dye it. He stares at you for a long time wordlessly. You shift your weight on your feet. 

“Hi,” He says back.  

You smile.  

“What’s your name?”  

“Bachira,”  

He asks for yours and return and you give it to him.  

“How old are you?”  

“I’m ten,”  

“Really? Me too,”  

“Do you know how to play soccer?”  

You shake your head. “My nii-chan plays it sometimes at his school, but I dunno how. I prefer jump rope. I can do some tricks with a jump rope.”  

He lights up when you mention your nii-chan plays soccer, eager to ask you about it. “Is he good at it?”  

“I think so,” You reply honestly. You ended up going to a lot of games when you were little. He used to practice lots in your backyard too and stayed after school. The memory makes you a little sad “He wanted to play it more but he got hurt. We went to a lot of matches when I was a baby. He has some trophies and stuff.”  

“That’s so cool,” Bachira gushes. You shrug because you don’t really feel like agreeing. “Do you think he would play soccer with me?”  

You shake your head dejectedly, eyes cast to the ground. “Probably not. He barely plays with me so I don’t think he’d play with you.”  

You feel a little bad telling him that given he seems so excited, but it’s true. Soccer or not. It’d also be a little unfair if he played with Bachira, you think. Bachira visibly deflates.  

“Oh,”  

“It’s okay. I don’t think I’d be good at soccer but you can tell me about it.” You say, because Bachira seems fun to be around. He doesn’t seem interested but you go on. “The thing you did with your ball earlier was cool.”  

He lights up again and you smile softly. “Really? I know a lot of other tricks, too. I’ll show them to you!”  

You nod. “Okay. I’m gonna draw on the concrete while you play.”  

You sit on the nearby patch of concrete and set your jump rope besides you as you open up your box of chalk - all brand new. You came in deciding to draw a cat or bunny, but decide to draw a soccer ball as a peace offering to your new companion.  

“Okay! But you have to look up when I tell you or you’ll miss my tricks.”  

“Sure,” You tell him.  

As soon as you sit down down to draw, Bachira starts talking a mile a minute about soccer. He took your words to heart it seems like. You think he must really like soccer, maybe even more than you like jump rope and you really like jump rope. But you don’t mind listening to Bachira talk. He kind of reminds you of Miki-chan, who also talks a lot. It’s good since you prefer not to talk much.  

“So the tricks and cool stuff you do with your feet is called dribbling?” 

He brightens at the fact you put it together without him saying “Yeah!” following it up with “You’re really nice.”  

Your brows raise in surprise as you shake your head. Embarrassed, you direct your gaze down towards your lap.  

“Not really. I’m just normal.”  

He doesn’t say anything else, just grins as he keeps going. You decide to keep drawing instead of talking, listening to Bachira ramble. He tells you to draw for a while he practices his tricks, so he can show you the best ones and you agree without any hassle.  

You look through your plastic box of chalk, smiling as you choose a color. You decide to draw with dandelion yellow.  

__  

Bachira brings you home to meet his mom after he runs out of tricks to show you.  

On the way there, he tells you more about her and himself. She’s his only parent, and she makes art so he thinks you’d like meeting her. Mama usually tells you not to follow strangers, but Bachira doesn’t feel like a stranger. He’s your friend and you find you really like him.  

When you get there, Bachira’s mom seems very happy to meet you. She’s pretty and smells like paint. She asks you if you know your parents numbers, since they might be worried about you disappearing and you give it to her, even though you know you’ll get scolded.  

It takes mama and papa twenty minutes to come over. Mama scolds you about doing something dangerous by yourself. You tell her it wasn’t dangerous because you were with Bachira and you really like Bachira.  

They don’t scold you again after you say it. 

__  

(Bachira becomes apart of your daily life as easy as breathing. Despite going to different schools, you always walk to and from school together after meeting. You’re close friends, maybe even closer than you and Miki-chan who you’ve known since you were a baby.  

Bachira always comes to pick you up anyway, and you walk home from school together every single day. He always has one hundred things to tell you but you like to listen to each and every one. You like how much Bachira has to say about everything.  

On the way home, you play rock-paper-scissors on who’s house to go to. You like it best when Bachira comes over, but if nii-chan is home, you normally go over to his. Sometimes, you wish you went to the same school. Being with Bachira is always fun.  

It’d be nice if you could be together all the time. You think if you were always with him, you’d never be bored. You wonder if it’s too much to hope Bachira feels the same. ) 

__ 

“So, you’re an omega?”  

Bachira and you are playing in the yard today. Your room is getting renovated. According to otou-san, it should’ve been done a while ago to accommodate your nests but it’s getting done now instead. You’re in the backyard with a book, staring up at him as he joins you under the shade. It’s the end of summer break and everything is too hot.  

You look at him. “Uh-huh. Otou-san is too.”  

He stares at you for a long time before joining you in the grass. You feel weirdly self-conscious of the space he occupies next to you. You’ll be eleven soon enough. Bachira drapes his head in your lap as you sit, staring up at you. You don’t bother moving him. He’s always like that.  

He puts his hands up and shades his face from the sun. His eyes glow yellow gold just like always.  

“Does that mean you like alphas?”  

The question is embarrassing somehow. Makes you feel weird because you can’t answer right away. You cast your gaze away and shrug, pretending to read your book but finding it hard to focus with Bachira’s eyes on you.  

You read in a book that alpha and omegas fall in love most naturally. Sometimes they like betas. But you’ve always felt sure you like omegas, and you don’t want to lie to Bachira so you don’t.  

“I don’t know,” You say truthfully. “I’m supposed too,”  

“But do you?”  

You can’t answer him right away. You scrunch your nose and think of nii-san, the only alpha you know personally. The idea of dating someone with any similarities to him troubles you, even though you know he’s not a bad guy. You shake your head.  

“I don’t know. Alphas are too much,” You say after some time. That feels like the right choice. Sometimes, you see older kids and alphas and they all feel that way. “And they’re scary.”  

“Then what about omegas?”  

That feels easy to answer. Bachira stares at you intently and you flush, turning away and covering your face with your hand. “I like them…they’re pretty and smell nice.”  

“Hm,” Bachira says. His expression is hard to read. You make a face at him, head tilted asking the same thing. “I think I might like alphas. I dunno though. I don’t know what I am,”  

A pang of disappointment makes your chest ache but you bury it and smile at him. Just barely, corners of your lips lightly upturned. “That means we’re opposite.”  

“But in a way it means we fit together right?” Bachira says, same as usual. Expectant. Content. Like it’s not a big deal at all. You nod and cast your gaze down to your lap again.  

“Yeah. Right.”  

__  

[ ELEVEN ]  

Fifth year students have special lessons for secondary sexes, before a secondary health examination.  

In your fourth year, you learned about the characteristics of your primary sex which is most important for betas. Most people are betas, so you guess it makes sense they spend so much more time about it. Still, it’s a little surprising how little your teacher really discusses…anything at all.  

You try to pay attention to the lesson but keep tuning out, finding it boring and most of all - not very useful. Otou-san had this conversation with you already. It’s not anything new.  

You don’t mean to sound like a know-it-all of course, but with the way otou-san quizzes you on it, you’re pretty sure you know more than most of your classmates and maybe even your teacher. 

You find your teacher leaves out a lot of important details about alphas and omegas, though you don’t feel you can or should correct her. During your lesson, you start to understand why Otou-san insisted on making you learn at home.  

Reflecting on it, you think being an omega is a hassle. Sometimes it seems scary. Most times though, it just feels inconvenient. When people find it out about you, they always act like they know you. But they only know you’re an omega, so you doubt that’s true.  

 Your first heat hasn’t come yet since you’re on lots of medicines but you get all the same growing pains. New, tiny fangs are already forming in your mouth and your scent is stronger than most kids your age. Your body is already changing, growing and you have to get more check-ups than other people.  

 Okaa-san says that’s normal. That you’re normal. But it doesn’t really feel that way. You notice otou-san never uses the word normal, only says that you’re perfectly healthy. 

 You wonder if it’s something so strange that you’re teacher can’t discuss it. If your disposition is something so offputting. Omega’s are uncommon but not unheard of, right? So why does everyone seem so hush-hush?  

You don’t know how to explain the feeling. It’s lonely. People know you’re an omega, but you don’t even know what that means. Don’t know what it means to feel like an omega either. But supposedly it dictates so much of your life.  

You keep yourself from sighing as to not disturb your class. The led of your pencil snaps from pressure as you write in your work-book.  

__  

[ TWELVE ]  

You return to the classroom early after health examinations.  

It’s the start of the sixth year of your elementary. Most people are finding out their secondary sex for the first time today, but since you already know yours - you’re given a pass to go back and read quietly in the classroom until it’s over. Some people have already developed with strong, obvious scents but getting the official results require a medical check up.  

You want to linger a little more so you can talk with all of your classmates but your P.E. teacher shoos you out of the room before long.  

After you change out of your gym clothes and back into your uniform, you traverse down the hall and take the long way back. It’s April. The sun is out, peeking through the leaves as warm shades of spring bloom outside your schools windows.  

The hallway is unusually quiet. You try to keep your steps light so the hall monitor doesn’t write you up for making noise and causing a disturbance.  

You haven’t been able to shake the strange feeling since morning. Such an important day, met with anticipation - but you exist entirely outside of it. You almost feel noting towards it at all.  

You’ve known you were an omega for nearly three years now and you’ve already heard rumors about you in relation.  

It is isn’t all that important to you. But it is, at the same time since it seems important to other people.  

Maybe it’s because you already know yours, but it makes you kind of uncomfortable to hear how your classmates talk about it.  

You’ve never liked talking about being an omega, even though it’s not a secret. You pretend not to hear them when you’re in earshot but you always do.  

Omegas are weaker, more annoying, too emotional. The only thing they have is attracting alphas, and most people want an alpha to take care of them. Alphas are bound to be successful, and they’re good at sports. It’s great that they have easier chances of seducing them and betas, too. They’re easy and weak so naturally an alpha will want to take care of them.  

You’re used to hearing it, and rarely bother to correct them no matter how wrong they are. Sometimes, you want to point out to them you’re one of those things at all - but then, you wonder if that makes you weak and emotional so you never do. You’re not weak, nor annoying, and you rarely show your feelings to anyone.  

You can’t make sense of whats expected of you and why your classmates laugh you off when you mention you like omegas, either. You’ve always preferred omegas and their company. They’re comfortable, understanding, easy to be with and smell nice.  

There’s something exhausting about the idea you need to be with an alpha. All of it is tiresome. You can’t help but get the impression that from here on, it’ll only get harder to deal with and you don’t want that. You don’t want it to matter. You just want to be yourself.  

Lost in thought, you arrive at the classroom. One of your friends seems to have arrived at the same time. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of her.  

Akemi-chan is one of your good friends. She’s beautiful. She has long, straight hair and cut-across bangs and always smiles. There’s a mole under her eye and her scent is ripe and summery like peaches. She smiles when she sees you.  

She’s so pretty and she stands to close to you - an arm around your waist with a comfortable laugh.  

“Guess what!”  

“Did you find out your secondary sex?”  

She grins, brightening several degrees. “I’m an omega. And,” Her voice drops suddenly. “Chiyo-san is an alpha!”  

“Ah,” Your voice drops.“Did you like Chiyo-san?”  

She nods. “Now that I know she’s an alpha, I like her more, I guess?” 

You try not to look sad, and try to quiet your heartbeat at the way she shows you affection she wouldn’t had you not both been omegas. She doesn’t pull away from you despite knowing you like omegas, so you still feel grateful. Akemi draws her cheek against yours gently. Scents you in the way friends do with her wrists.  

You nod listen to her. The listless melancholy of whats forward draws your attention outside.  

You notice storm clouds coming in as Akemi looks alongside you. It feels different.  

It feels a little too early in spring for such stormy rain.  

__  

“I didn’t get the results of my secondary sex exam,”  

You’re on your way home back from school when Bachira blurts this out to you. Your eyes widen slightly in surprise, turning to look at him so you can understand his feelings better. Given how quiet Bachira’s been today - you figured something was wrong.  

You look at him, unsure of what to make of it.  

“Does that bother you?”  

Your question surprises him in return. It’s not unheard for people to present later. It manifests in everyone eventually, even betas. You don’t remember all the terminology though it has something to do with a specific hormone.  

Bachira thinks on your question before looking down at his shoes. He shrugs. “Mm. Dunno. Guess it just makes me feel even more different.”  

You think about what Bachira seems to go through at school and feel your heart tug. That makes sense you think.  

You shake your head, with new and sudden resolve. “I think it’s fine. It kinda makes sense. I got mine early so you get yours late. We’re always like that, right?”  

You hope the attempt to comfort him reaches him. When you look over and see him smiling, you feel unimaginable relief. The world feels more colorful when Bachira smiles. He pauses in the middle of the street, throwing an arm around your neck with a grin that feels like himself again. 

“Yeah. Right.”  

__  

[ THIRTEEN ]  

You can’t tell it’s your heat right away.  

 A fever breaks along your skin in a cramped train car. sweat clinging to your skin underneath your middle school uniform, a heat rash making your whole body itch. The noise around you becomes static, cottony as your heart starts thudding against your ribs.  

Your ears are ringing. Time slows down around you as the speed of the subway seems to double underneath your feet. Your knees buckle as you try and hold yourself upright as the intense and unfamilar feeling of desire violates your senses. Too intense for your body. It doesn’t feel like you. You’re not in your right mind.  

 It’s too early. Most people’s heats don’t come for another year or two at least. You feel so unlucky as the pain flares, mixed with something burning between your legs.  

You try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You take the same train home every single day at the same time. Plenty of students take it, but clubs keep you later than most. 

Bachira often comes with you just like he has today, so you focus on him. His middle school is a short-distance from yours so you try and walk home together when you can. A small promise that means the world to you. If you can’t go the full way, you always meet up at the intersection and walk the short distance together instead.   

You focus on Bachira as he stands next to you. He’s watching a game of soccer on his new phone, turned sideways with a single headphone in. You watch it over his shoulder. You try too. Your skin scorches, hot like something crash-landing through the atmosphere as a tension grows between your legs. Sweat breaks out around your collar and the small of your spine. You feel out of your body - floating just outside of it. Your neck throbs, scent glands suddenly aching. Both wrist and neck, all of you—aching.  

You can barely make any sense of your surroundings anymore. Your breathing is erratic as you grip onto the metal pole tight and try to make sense of your surroundings. You want to hold out until you can get to a stall. You’ve had a plan for this for as long as you can remember.  

You just need to keep it together until the train stops.  

There’s a man behind you. You don’t notice him until you do. You’re still wearing your uniform - short skirt rolled up to combat the heat of the season. A calloused hand reaches underneath the fabric. You think it’s an accident until it sticks between your inner thigh. It slides up slowly, getting closer to where it shouldn’t be. Your breath hitches. You shiver. Your body is hot.  

“Are you an omega?” An older man, the one behind you murmurs. His voice is crass, grating and dark against your skin. Your stomach twists with fear as your gaze freezes you into place. Unable to find your voice as he touches you, you try not to recoil. Disgusted at your body reacts to the involuntary arousal that spikes in result of it. He’s an alpha. The acrid, overbearing nausea of an alphas scent drives itself into your center like a stake. You hate it so much it’s unbearable but every is so hot.  

You have no control. Over anything. You’re terrified and barely there.  

Fear makes you jump. Your conscious mind slowly loses its grip as you feel your skin dampen with increasing heat, skull throbbing. Your heat is coming and it’s coming fast. You breathe heavily in a pant, trying to ignore the sensation. Trying to ignore everything, just to drown out the oppressive scent of alpha invading your lungs as you tuck your chin.  

“You’re a little young to be presenting like this. Having your heat on a train like this,” His voice weighs down on you oppresively. Your heart is so loud, clamoring noisily behind your ears as tears prick at your eyes. His hands go further and further and you flinch. Brushing where you don’t want to be touched you jolt.  

our jolting makes Bachira look up from his phone.  

“Are you trying to tempt an alpha?” 

You’re not very conscious. You’re disgusted. You know this is normal but it feels wrong. You feel wrong. The horror is grounding in it’s own right. Fog clouds your mind, makes your senses sharp. You feel split at the seams. Fighting with your own consciousness, you can’t think of anything except trying to suppress your instincts. But it’s painful, so painful - and something sticky is running down your legs. It’s not you, it’s your body. It’s violating.  

Your instincts want an alpha. Your body wants something you can’t understand to the point it aches inside of you, aches between your legs and makes you want to throw up. 

Before the man behind you can get any further, your shaken awake by the sound of him practically shrieking. Bachira appears in the corners of your vision.  

You’ve never seen him so angry.  

You can see his hand reaching behind you. Your eyes gloss over as you stare at Bachira. The hand touching you is gone and you feel immediate comfort. You ground yourself in the warmth of his eyes. You try to find his face amidst your tears. 

“Bachira-kun,” Your voice is a whimper. You tuck your head against his shoulder. “I’m scared, I’m so scared, it hurts,”  

He stiffens and then his voice comes. It’s soothing, sounds just like him. High and soft. He hums a lullaby to you like nothings wrong. When his hand rests on your lower back, it doesn’t make you feel like crawling out of your own skin.  

“It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s safe. You’re safe. I’ll protect you, promise.”  

It’s weird to see him this calm. The loud Bachira you know is never so poised, but he holds you steady. You whimper as he pushes you against his scent glands. He smells sweet. You huff it involuntarily. Bachira doesn’t tell you to stop.  

When the train comes to a slow, you let him move you through the station and take you to the bathroom. Your knees are weak. He’s not the type to worry but you’ve made him so concerned.  

He opens a stall and sets you gently on the toilet. The cool linoleum sobers you enough to look at Bachira. His worry, his concern, his care. You whimper.  

“Hug me,” You practically beg. He hesitates, clicking himself into the stall alongside you as you let yourself drape around his waist. It’s not very different from how you usually are, is it? Bachira is always so affectionate, yet it feels so different.  

 He rubs the scent glands on his wrist on your neck.  

Above you, Bachira is on his phone. Your brain is too hazy to make the details, but you think you hear your fathers voice on the other side of the line.  

“Ji-chan will be here soon,” Bachira says. You clutch the back of Bachira’s uniform. It’s the first time he’s ever felt so broad. “Don’t worry.”  

“Meguru. Thank you,” You say in a half-sob.  

“Anytime,” He says, his voice small and high and so familiar. “I’ll always protect you. Promise. No alpha will touch you again.” 

*** 

__  

The reality of your first heat should be what you expect. You know these things happen. Otou-san has told you to be cautious everywhere you go for the last four years without fail. 

 But when it happens to you, it’s the first time you feel resentful about your secondary sex. Anger towards your body first, for not being able to control itself. Angry at the world next, for making you feel as if it’s your fault.  

You grow averse to alphas in the after math. You try not to be. You try not to let your discomfort show and try not to become the sort of person who makes judgements on secondary sex  - but for a long time, just the thought of being around them makes your bones chill.  

The only thing that keeps you from being all negative is Bachira. His anger for you when discussing that day is enough to ease the burden. Bachira bears your hurt like its his.  

You start calling Bachira, Meguru when you call him after he stays with you during your heat. It’s the last bridge of closeness to cross - the last barrier between you. He calls you by your first name too, sometimes a nickname if the mood suits him.  

You find yourself so thankful to be his friend some days it makes you want to cry.  

You find yourself even more grateful when he tells you he’s an omega. It comforts you. You think, he’s too good to be an alpha and too goo to be with one but you never tell him. It’ll happens someday and you think you’ll be sad.  

But for now, you’re happy being by his side a little while longer.  

__  

[ FOURTEEN ] 

Miki-chan invites you to celebrate her fourteenth birthday with a visit to the mall.  

There’s a huge mall a little over half an hour away from Chiba that she’s been dying to visit since forever agp. Her nee-san takes all of you in her nice car, even letting you spend money on her card within reason. She’s a lot older than all of you, twice your age with a big girl job in Tokyo. She’s stylish and kind and always has fun nail designs because she works for a famous fashion magazine.  

Otou-san has also given you an excessive amount of pocket money after you told him about your day-trip. You really weren’t planning on getting anything, but you’re glad to have something in case Bachira wants to make a purchase.  

You’re stopped in for frozen yogurt, following Bachira as Miki-chan and another mutual friend, Sasaki-san wait for you to come up front. You watch amusedly as Bachira piles his frozen yogurt with more toppings. You’re pretty sure he’s not even going to finish it.  

You peer at his cup from over his shoulder, watching him pile gummy bears onto his already loaded cup of frozen yogurt, wrinkling your nose in distaste.  

“What flavor of froyo did you get this time?”  

“Sea salt chocolate. For balance,” He says, dead seriously.  

You smile involuntarily before brushing past him, spooning yogurt chips into your own cup. You get different things depending on your mood but always keep it simple. Since it’s hot and humid, you’re getting a coconut flavor with shaving, yogurt chips, fruit and strawberry sauce and sprinkles for good measure.  

“You’re too much,” You move past him and wait for him to finish up at the counter. “But if you’re happy,”  

“I’m always very happy. I have no place for sadness!” Bachira replies.  

You give him another crooked smile, turning to where Miki and Sasaki are chatting.  

“I’ll pay for Meguru-kun,” You announce. His frown is instant. 

“Eh? No way, I brought money though? That’s why I put so much stuff,”  

He’s pouting. You wonder if all omega boys are that cute naturally or if it’s just Bachira.   

“Buy something with it later.”  

He pouts, swallowing his complaint as he knows it’ll fall on deaf ears.  

“Fine,” He huffs, placing his alongside yours on the weight. The cashier gives you two a knowing smile that you miss as she rings up, sticking a color-changing spoon in each before passing it back along with your change. “I’ll get you back for this.”  

You don’t say anything as you watch the weight counter.  

“Over one thousand yen…. you’re such a glutton,”  

“I’ll split it with you as thanks,”  

You make a face of disgust that makes him cackle as you both sit down and join your other friends. Bachira drags his chair to sit as close to you as possible, fully inserting himself into your personal space per usual. You eat a spoonful of your frozen yogurt, unconcerned. Sasaki stares at you for a bit. Your eyes meet and you tilt your head in confusion but she turns away.  

“Miki-chan, is there anything else you want to look for?”  

“New shoes, maybe.” 

You glance at her then shake your head. “Pick something else.”  

“…Okay. Thank you in advance, I guess,” Miki-says with a laugh. You smile a little.  

You look over at Bachira who’s very enraptured in his fro-yo.. You lick your thumb as reach over and wipe the corners of his mouth - stained with chocolate.  

“You eat like a kid,” Fondness unmistakable in your voice.  

He shakes his head sagely. “Eating something delicious is supposed to make you eat like a kid, you know? And we are kids. This is what it means to be free citizens of the world! Of this great nation!”  

“Uh-huh. I’ll take your word for it, but clean your mouth at least.”  

Bachira looks at you with smeared mess of chocolate, worsened by another sugary bite. “Why should I worry about it when you’re here to do it for me?”  

You give him flat look. Despite yourself though, you use a napkin from the middle of the table to wipe his mouth off. Miki scoffs at you both.  

“If you’re too spoiled, she’ll get sick of you,” Miki-chan says bitterly.  

“She’d never get sick of me. You on the other hand,”  

You shake your head as the two of them hiss at each other. You’ve been friends for years and they still argue. It’s hard to say they’re oil and water. If anything, they’re so similar it baffles you why they don’t get along better then they do you. After a minute of glaring, she  sighs and goes back to thinking of her shopping trip.  

“Well if shoe’s are out of the question, maybe some new earrings. Oh! And we should get you some makeup you can wear at school.”  

You shake your head. “I told you I’m not interested.”  

“You’re wasting your beautiful omega looks. I won’t allow it,” Miki pouts at you even as you shake your head. “I promise it’ll be easy stuff. I just think it would look nice on you.”  

Bachira doesn’t even look up. “You’re pretty the way you are.”  

“Don’t say something that embarrassing,”  

“It’s not embarrassing if it’s true,” He voices, sing-songy. His insistence only worsens your frown.  

Sasaki glances between you again, you think. It’s too brief for you to catch but the weight of it lingers even when she pulls her gaze.  

“Please? Just a little? I’m buying it for you so it’s fine right.”   

“I know you said you want to practice on me but it’s not just that, right?”  

Miki smiles at you, coy. “Eh… maybe? I want to max your potential more like. You’re not seeing my exquisite vision but I will make you.”  

You shake your head, and sigh - pretending to be more troubled than you are. “Fine. We’ll go after. I want to go to another store too. For stationary,”  

“You’re too much of a bookworm. Boring. Nerd!” Bachira says automatically. 

“The one time we agree on something,” Miki replies.  

You frown at both of them. “It’s important that the world has boring people. How else would we have laws?”  

“Even you thinking about laws is so boring,” 

You shake your head, displeased.  

Conversation flows more steadily between you, Miki and Sasaki. Bachira tunes out, draping himself all over you once he’s done eating. He fidgets with your hands, resting his head on your shoulder. You adjust so you can eat while letting him.  

“Pee,” Bachira announces abruptly. He stands up, arms over his head as his shirt slides over his belly, exposing skin. “Need to pee really bad. Pee time,”  

“Do you want me to come with you?” You ask.  

He looks down at you and smiles widely before shaking his head. “Mm, no. I’ll be fine. I can do it by myself. I’m no longer a kid!”  

You give him a raise brow in reply to say can you? that makes him stick his tongue out. You chuckle at that. “Go pee then. Don’t get lost.”  

“Yes, ma’am!”  

Bachira does a salute before scurrying off to find the closest bathroom. Sure that’ll occupy his time, you smile to yourself as take a spoonfuls of your melty frozen yogurt - careful not to spill any as you put in your mouth and go back to conversation.  

Sorry about that. What were you saying, Sasaki-san?”  

She stares at you for a long time. “Are you two… like… together?”  

You blink.  

“Sorry?”  

“You and him,” Sasaki reiterates. Besides her, Miki snorts.  

“What a good question,”  

You shoot her a unimpressed look. “Ignore her. No, we’re not.”  

“What?” Sasaki says. The genuine disbelief shocks you a little. You’re used to Miki teasing you but not this. “Seriously? Even though he’s like that?”  

“Oh, what? Like touchy?” You reply, starting to understand. Miki interrupts you.  

“Don’t bother, Sasaki. It’s a lose cause.” She shakes her head.  

“Again. Ignore her,” You emphasize, shooting her a glare. “Anyway no. We’re just childhood friends and he’s always been sort of clingy like that.”  

“With everyone?” Sasaki says pointedly. “Or is it just because it’s you…?”  

You pause.  

You’ve never… considered that. You rarely have time to feel overly conscious about what Bachira does or doesn’t do with you. In the first place, he’s not the sort of person that’s easy to predict. He’s got more quirks than you can keep track of but all of it is Bachira. It makes no sense to question his idiosyncrasies this far in. There’s nothing he could do to make you think of him differently. Bachira doesn’t have many friends outside of you to begin with.  

 You blink a few times, considering it. “No, I’m…sure it’s just with anyone he feels very close too,”  

“But to that extent? He was letting off his—“  

Miki shoots her a look and shakes her head. You catch it but find yourself unable to ask, lost in thought. Too hung up on what feels like the edge of an epiphany.  

There’s a long bout of silence until you shake your head.  

 Even if it’s only you, it doesn’t make a huge difference. 

“Bachira is only interested in alphas,” You reply, remembering. Sasaki seems surprised by that for some strange reason. “It really doesn’t mean anything,” 

Before long, Bachira returns to the table. He takes as long as you predicted, but you find you’re a little relieved to see him acting the same. He drops down and places his chin on your head, waiting for you to look up at him.  

“Didja miss me?”  

A sweet, familiar scent. A soft, high voice. A wild look. You look up at him, reassured by your own reminder of his sexuality. You grin mischievously.  

“Not at all,” You say with fake nonchalance. He gasps.  

“Rude!”  

Yes, it’s fine. Still the same old Bachira.  

__  

[ FIFTEEN ]  

“Oh,” You can’t mask the surprise in your voice as your older brother sits at the dining room table. “Nii-san.”  

Your oldest brother has recently started at a real office job. It’s closer to your childhood home then his apartment, so some nights if he’s too exhausted - he’ll drop in and sleep in his old room. It’s rare you come across him though, since he’s usually home and asleep as soon as it’s night time.  

He must’ve come from the office. He’s still wearing his dress shirt and tie, though he has the suit jacket he wears to the office laid over the back of a dining room chair. You try to get used to him looking like that, but the version of him most strongly in your head is all the years he spent as a delinquent.  

His straightened out appearance is unusual for you no matter how often you come across it now. You mostly keep in touch through socials and sparse texts, and he sometimes calls you. His hair is dyed a natural color now and he only has his piercings in on days off. The few tattoos he used to show off are now well hidden under his clothes.  

But his manor and demeanor are largely the same when he’s relaxed. The way he spreads out when he sits makes him look like the average delinquent. The familiarity of it is comfortable albeit funny.  

“You’re home late,”  

“I had student council,”  

He taps his fingers against the table, a silent gesture for you to sit.  

“You’re in student council? Since when?”  

You shrug, setting your bag down to join him in the kitchen. “Since school started. I was roped into it,”  

“Then are you in other clubs?”  

“I’m in a volunteering club. We help the elderly and read with younger classes and help out around school.”  

He pinches the bridge of his nose, tipping his head back. “We’re complete opposites somehow…” 

You purse your lips, faintly amused as you open your fridge up. There’s more pudding then when you left in the morning, but you decide against asking as you take one and open a drawer for a spoon. “You were already skipping class and stuff by then, right? I remembered because you and kaa-san used to argue while I was doing homework.”  

“You heard all of that?”  

You open the plastic peel off lid and dip into the flan-like texture, nodding indifferently as you sit in the dining room chair across from him. “Uh-huh. Kinda hard not too.”  

“It didn’t scare you?” 

“Nah,” You tilt your head. “You glaring at me whenever you saw me did though. A little.”  

His eyes go wide before sighing. “Sorry. I was a knucklehead back then.”  

“It was fine. It made me a bit sad but I’m fine now. And I hope you don’t hate me any more?”  

He gives you a half-hearted laugh, still feeling guilty. You’re mostly teasing. Nii-san has only grown increasingly over protective, though you still don’t know what he’s thinking. He also gives you allowance now, which is nice.  

He leans back. “Nah, course not. How could I hate such a good kid?” 

He reaches over to pet your head as you eat your pudding, giving you a smile you can’t really read. “Your birthday is soon right?” 

“Uh-huh.”  

“Got any plans?”  

“I’ll probably drag Meguru-kun around to the bookstore.”  

He makes a face at you. “That brat,”  

“Don’t call him that.” You frowb. “I don’t get why you hate him so much anyway.”  

“Because he’s always hanging around you and he’s—“ He shakes his fist aimlessly, unable to find the words. They’ve had arguments with each other for as long as you can remember. “Whatever. Fine. Just. Don’t marry him,”  

“He likes alphas,” You say with ease. He looks at you incredulous, before shaking his head.  

“Sure. Even if that changes don’t marry him. Don’t date him either. Settle down with someone nice,”  

“No offense, nii-san but that’s not really a lecture I wanna hear from you,”  

“See? He’s already rubbing off on you.”  

__ 

“Huh? The two of you already broke up?”  

Bachira lays on your bed on his stomach while you sit at your desk, his legs swinging up in the air. Predictably, he’s watching videos about dribbling on his phone.  

You haven’t seen him in a few days but it makes sense that he wouldn’t have heard about it. Your relationship with Inoue wasn’t very public to begin with, at least not on her end. Aside from that, you always got the impression that things would turn out this way.  

You’re sure that your own pessimism and detachment is part of the reason. 

You busy yourself with the derivatives taunting you on your graphing paper, making an affirmative noise. “A couple of days ago,”  

“Ehhh? Wasn’t she totally clingy with you, though?”  

You shrug indifferently. 

Inoue-san was the only other omega in your grade who likes other omegas. There’s rumours about Suzuki-kun who’s a second year and some other third years you don’t really know. Of them, Inoue was the only one you knew personally. You sit next to each other in class and joined the same clubs coincidentally.  

A conversation in the club room making flyers devolved into one about secondary sexes and sexuality. Eventually, you landed on the topic of being an omega. You commiserated about it then, shared some words of camaraderie about the social woes of being the perceived weaker sex and became a little more comfortable with each other. You aren’t sure what thread of conversation exactly led to the talk of you both mutually preferring omegas.  

Inoue-san confessed too, that unlike you who couldn’t figure out what you felt towards alphas, she knew with some certainty she didn’t like them at all.  

Another few weeks of friendship and the steadily closing distance between you, one thing led to another. Inoue-san confessed to you first in a sort of abrupt and out of the blue way. It was a semi-impulsive decision to date her, but you thought she was pretty and nice. A puppy crush worth something, a youthful love affair.  

So after summer break, the two of you started dating.  

It was a short lived relationship. A break in routine. You dated for three months and broke up just this last week. The first month of your relationship was nice. You ate lunch together and texted a lot. The second month you went on dates. The third month had been fine for a little before everything seemed to rip at the seams and fall apart.  

Inoue-san was nice to be with when you were alone. In the sanctity of storage rooms or her childhood bedroom - where there were no eyes to leer at either of you, she was everything you liked about being with an omegas. Soft skin, pretty eyes, an intoxicating scent that made your brain go alight when you touched her. She was comfortable to be with during your pre-heat, easy to touch and hold and caress.  

It made sense to be with her in the way you always thought it would.  

Fundamental differences in your feelings about being omegas in a relationship would appear sooner rather than later though. You’re sympathetic, which is why you don’t think you’re as hurt as you should be. 

“I kinda knew. In the back of my mind, I guess,” You click the end of your pencil to push out more led, scribbling out some more numbers. “She always avoided crowds. Seemed paranoid about people finding out in general. So I thought it might be something like that.”  

“You don’t seem very sad,” Bachira points out. You give him an amused smile from the corner of your eye.  

“What kind of best friend would want me to be sad?”  

“Nooo,” He whines at you, tossing a stuffed toy at you that you reflexively duck a way from. “I was just worried about you, jeez. Plus, I didn’t really like her, you know?”  

There’s no way you couldn’t have known. Bachira being hesitant towards people in your life isn’t anything new. He’s never been fond of any new friends you’ve made, always openly jealous and always asking for assurance that he’s still your number one. Sometimes he’d go as far as doing it in front of them, which you reprimanded him for.  

Sometimes.  

You roll your eyes. “Oh I know,”  

He grins. “I was being so nice this time,” He pouts, rolling onto his back with his arms crossed over his chest. He turns his face to your bedroom wall instead of you. “You should praise me. I wasn’t even mean to her face! Not once,”  

“Pfft,” You laugh behind your hands. “Yeah, good job. Still, I didn’t think Inoue-san was that bad. She didn’t do anything to me,”  

“She was ashamed of you,” Bachira says. It’s weird. A strangely serious sentiment that makes your eyes go wide.  

“Not of me,” You correct. “Of us, maybe. I think she was being sincere when she said she liked me but I mean. I get it. It’s not something I go around telling people either, though I’ve been out for a while,”  

There’s some impulse he bites down. It’s not like you’re defending her, but Bachira takes it as such and takes it personally as he does most things. You give him a small smile as you notice, so attuned to his moods. Even his petulance doesn’t shake you. Selfishness comes as naturally to Bachira as breathing.  

“I wouldn’t be ashamed to be with you in public,” He bites his tongue again and you want to ask what could be on his mind. He’s intending the words to be lighthearted, but there’s weight there. You aren’t sure how you’re meant to hold it. “If were ever to fall madly in love with each other, I would tell the entire world.”  

You try not to let it mean anything. The numbers on your page blur together so much you have to start a problem over. It takes you a second to pull the shake out of your voice.  

“If you like something, don’t you usually tell the whole world anyway?” You say sardonically. Bachira frowns, huffs, turns his head away. His ears are pink.  

“Yeah,” He says back and leaves it there. “Usually keeping it in makes me feel like I’m gonna explode into a million little pieces. Bleh,”  

He slumps back onto one side of your bed and keeps watching his game. The sound of your pencil scratching along the paper makes up for the empty space.  

__  

[ SIXTEEN ] 

On the field, Bachira shines brighter than any star in the night-sky.  

You’re the only one here for todays game. His mom usually comes to whichever one she can, but she has an important exhibition on the other side of the country today. Bachira didn’t show any disappointment about it. You’re not sure how he feels but you doubt it affected too much.  

When it comes to soccer, he becomes completely single-minded.  

The soccer Bachira plays is a reflection of him. Golden yellow and free, like a shade only he can color with, that touches everything and makes it shine in its path.  

The Bachira you know—the Meguru you’ve known your whole life is different when it comes to soccer. Soccer is the precedence of his entire existence. For Bachira, who enjoys being completely and entirely uninhibited, there’s nothing as freeing as the square PVC frames of a net.  

He splits his life in two ways. Soccer and everything else.  

The field are still mildly damp today. It lingers in the air, cooling on your skin as you watch him from the stands in utter awe. Rays of light spill through gaps in the thick clouds over head, shining down on the field and making each move vibrant.  

The game goes on around you bustling endlessly. Noise from all sides. Whether that be in the stands with people talking amongst themselves, the shouting of coaches, or the players talking to one another. It’s loud all around, blurry movements of team mates passing the fall back and forth make up the scene. Guarding and passing, taking each other into consideration as all team sports encourage.  

The soccer that Bachira plays is different from the soccer everyone else plays on the field. Selfish, ego-centric, enigmatic - you find that you can’t take a single breath or you might miss something. It’s antithetical how team sports are played. Eye-catching and flashy as he dribbles the ball along with his feet in a movement like a dance.  

He’s mesmerizing. Despite all the things happening around you all at once, your gaze is fixated completely and utterly on Bachira. So bright it outshines everything else, everyone else, without feeling apologetic. Without reason or rhyme, without strategy. A soccer that demands to be seen.  

This is a game with many players, but to you - it is simply the stage in which Bachira shows off his talent in it’s rawest form. Even in a place not well suited for it, Bachira shines. You’ve never seen anything so brilliant. It’s been years since you last attended a game and seen this applied version of himself.  

It’s the first time Bachira has ever felt so close while feeling so far. It’s the first time you can’t hide from him, pinned underneath the honey-viscous weight of his presence.  

He dribbles the ball between his feet and kicks hard into center stage, scores a goal so beautifully unpredictable the whole crowd roars in cheers and Bachira laughs like he’s delighted.  

You love Bachira. You realize this as he stands like a center piece in the field.  

Like the moon loves the sun. Like the sand loves the tide. Like shadows love light. Bachira is more beautiful playing soccer than you’ve ever seen him, and it occurs to you it’s taken you sixteen years to find this out.  

He’s so beautiful you can’t tear yourself away. Can’t run from the realization.  

His eyes find yours in the crowds of people, elated with his brows raised. You can practically hear him where he stands, lips curled around the words. Did you see that? Did you see the goal I made?  

You break the neutrality of your face and grin wide, uncharacteristic as you chant his name. “Go, Meguru!”  

Bachira laughs again as the game goes on. Your shining star, your ego-centric sun. Your heart is beating loud enough to crush your ribs.  

What an incredible view.  

__  

(Namikaze highschool wins that round of their inter-high bracket. The team goes to celebrate. They never invite Bachira.  

Today, though, Bachira has you. After the game, Bachira wraps you in a hug so tight it could break you. You wonder when he got so strong. His scent, overwhelming and sweet, mixes with the scent of sweat and deodorant. You like it. You hug like that for a while, suddenly aware of your lack of proximity.  

A comment Sasaki-san made about you two years ago pops back into your head but you still don’t think to let him go.  

After he showers and changes back into his usual attire, you and Bachira walk to the 7/11 around the corner of his house.  

You sit on the curb, legs out stretched. The sun is in full bloom, sky painted an pastel orange melting into pinks and blues. You hand Bachira his soda water from your bag, and split the melon flavored popsicle you bought in two halves.  

You give him the bigger half. Unusually, it’s very quiet between you two.  

“I’m going to become the best striker in the world,” He says. A repeat of a dream you’ve heard before, but said with amazing conviction. You look at him for a long time. Wet hair and brown eyes. You tuck a piece of hair behind his ear to look at him better then smile.  

“I know you are,”  

His grin brightens. “Right! Right, so when that happens,” His voice drops, feather soft. “When it happens, make sure you’re watching me. Don’t look away or you’ll miss it. ‘Kay? You gotta promise.”  

He holds out his pinky for you. Were his hands always so calloused? Were they always so big, you wonder. You look at Bachira and suddenly he seems so much older. You nod your head.  

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Meguru.” ) 

__  

[ SEVENTEEN ] 

“Come over,” Bachira demands on the other side of the line. His voice is nearly a screech. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him so excited in your entire life and that is saying a whole lot. “Come over, now. Like right now! You have too, you absolutely must,”  

You pull your bag up on your shoulders as you pull the phone away from your ears. “Jeez, jeez - alright. I just got back from my supplementary lessons, so give me a second.”  

“Are you on the street in front of my house?”  

“Huh? Yeah, I am.”  

The phone line cuts off, going completely silent as you stare at your phone in a mix of confusion and disbelief. Your fingers hover over the call back icon for a second before a tremendously loud shout and even louder footsteps sound in your ears. 

You’re too surprised to laugh as Bachira comes barreling towards you in minutes flat. You steel yourself preparing to catch him if he lands face-first, but he manages to pull back in record speed skidding to a halt. You blink at him rapidly. He feels like an illusion.  

“You ran here,”  

“Yes. I did. Because,” He grabs both of your hands and starts to tug you into some kind of spinning dance in the middle of the sidewalk. “I. Have. News!”  

“News? What about?”  

His eyes widen and shine brilliantly. “Bluelock!”  

__  

The act of disappearing requires a lot more work than you could’ve imagined.  

You’re being dramatic. Bachira isn’t disappearing. Not forever, at least. He’s just going away for a while, abruptly doing the thing that he would’ve done regardless because it’s not like he can become the best striker in the world in Japan alone. It’s something that was bound to happen eventually.  

And, it’s not like you didn’t get any warning. The letter came months beforehand. Bachira was set to leave towards the end of November, which meant he about a month to prepare. Which means you’ve had about a month to be with him.  

It’s not a big deal. You have other friends. Other people. It’s good that Bachira is going to be in a place that he can play the soccer he’s always dreamed. Even as his best friend, there’s some things you can’t do for him. It’s the happiest you’ve ever seen him, which is saying more than you ever could.  

Rationally, you know there’s nothing to worry about. Emotionally, you’ve found out that you rely on Bachira more than you thought. Even the thought of him leaving temporarily is making your heart wrench. You’ve asked him a million questions.  

It’s not like you to be so anxious about anything. You ere on the side of calm. But it’s Bachira. Your Meguru, so you can’t help but worry.  

Bachira, dense as he is about other people, sympathizes with your concerns without asking and doesn’t get mad when you answer. It’s easy for you to forget that he understands you in his own way. 

 Bachira depends on you because he cares about you and you take care of Bachira because you are about him. It fulfills a mutual sense of purpose.  

This is a normal part of growing up. You’ve been repeating it to yourself constantly. It’s not like you won’t see him ever again. You’ll see him afterwards, at least for a little while. You won’t be able to call or text him while he’s in the facility but that’s not forever. And even while he’s in there, he wants to hear about your boring life. So he says, anyways.  

Rationally, you know it’s fine. Emotionally, you’re growing a keen sense of awareness about this being the end of your so-called youth. It’s not you’re adults, but you’re not kids either. You’re going to be eighteen next year. You have to think about entrance exams. You have to think about life and where Bachira will go without you.  

Time is passing by you whenever you hesitate. Eventually, it’ll catch up to you and Bachira will be somewhere so far out of your reach. There’s no one you can think of more perfect for center stage. No one’s soccer will every shine as brilliantly as Bachira’s.  

But it’s lonely. In it’s own right. To think about how far he’ll go. He’ll dribble himself to the ends of the Earth eventually.  

At least for another week though, he’s within your reach. You have so many pictures together in your room per his request over the last few years, but looking at him now you kind of wish you had more.  

“Aren’t you wanting to practice?”  

“Ehh?” He frowns. “I can practice later. But I can’t be in your room all the time you know. I want to burn it into my brain. I thought we should do something special to commemorate but I couldn’t figure anything out.”  

You hum. A thought strikes you. It’s incredibly out of character, but maybe that’s why it does. “We could drink together.”  

Bachira laughs at first, definitely assuming it was a joke. When he realizes you’re dead serious though, he gasps, scandalized. Your lips quirk up at the corners.  

“Who are you? An impostor? A shadow clone?” Bachira grabs your shoulders and shakes you lightly. “What did you do with my uptight best friend?!”  

You laugh helplessly. “Don’t act like that. I just know where my parents keep bottles of shochu cold in the basement and thought maybe. I’ve never touched it before. It’s the weekend right? So if we get too drunk, you can sleep here.”  

Bachira dramatically places a hand over his mouth in shock. “Have you really been replaced by alien clones…I can’t believe my ears.”  

You shake your head. “Do you want to drink together or not?”  

“Ehhhh?? Of course I do!” Bachira says, absolutely enthused at the idea. “We should get so drunk together.”  

You consider it. “My parents are visiting relatives. I guess I can text and see if nii-san is coming home.”  

“Are you saying it’s okay to get drunk if he isn’t planning on coming?”  

You nod. “He’d probably be easy on me but I don’t want him to lecture you,”  

Bachira squishes his face to yours, rubbing his cheek on yours with unabashed affection. You try not to laugh. You can feel him so close, smell him so close it makes you a little dizzy. Bachira doesn’t let out his scent more than necessary, but he is now just barely - scent glands brushing against your skin.  

He smells sweet, but in a strange way. It was comforting and familiar. A little unusual for an omega given how strong it was but it’s not like Bachira is very usual in general.  

It’s a little intimate for friends, but it’s Bachira and who knows when you’d see him next. You let him do as he pleases.  

“Hurry and text your brother,” Bachira huffs, then brightens back up again. “Then lets drink! Yay!” 

__ 

You bring the bottles of shochu back up to your bedroom as a pre-caution. Nii-san is is a couple hours away for a work trip, but you can’t get over the lingering paranoia of him appearing back home and trying to fight Bachira as a result so you figure it’s probably better to drink in your room.  

You bring two glasses up with you along with juice and soda water, unsure about the taste. Bachira likes soda water as is so maybe he can use it as a chaser.  

You sit across from each other at the small table close to the floor in the middle of your room. It took a while to get the bottles open.  

You’ve smelled it before but it’s a little weird having it available to drink. 

“I can’t believe you’re drinking with me. Underage. You, of all people.”  

You pour a little shochu into each of your cups with a roll of your eyes. You’ll save the mix-ins for later, but you’re interested in tasting it on its own. You’re sure your parents have other stuff too, sake, beer and wine but you don’t know where they keep it. You read the labels of the bottle before drinking it.  

You brush past what Bachira has said. “Fourty-three percent seems like a lot.”  

“That’s basically half right? Doesn’t that mean this is gonna make us super drunk? Ohh, think I’m gonna throw up in your room? I haven’t done that since we were ten!”  

“Please don’t throw up in my room.” You say, shaking your head. “I don’t know actually. It seems like a lot. Guess we’ll just have to drink and see.”  

You shrug. You pick up your glass, signaling Bachira to do the same. He lets out a loud kanpai as you do, making you laugh a little as you bring the glass up to your lips. The scent itself sort of burns, you can’t imagine what drinking it is gonna be like.  

You watch aghast as Bachira knocks the entire glass back and nearly hacks up his lungs coughing. His eyes are wet when he recovers with a fit of laughter that he can’t seem to get control of.  

“Ahhh, it burns! It burns so much and it tastes weird. But it was easier to drink at once.” He says dramatically laughing, nearly retching in the process.  

You stare at him in disbelief before taking a sip of your own drink refusing to partake in the same foolishness. He’s right that it burns. You always heard that but feeling the acidity in your mouth is different. It feels like all the moisture from your mouth is going along with it. You try it a few more times in short sips.  

Are you some sort of masochist?  

“I kind of…” You blink. Your eyes water as you look up at Bachira. “I kind of like it…?”  

Bachira takes the bottle into his own hands that time and pours more of it straight into your glass and less into his. You’re sitting but you feel woozy. He pours soda and juice along his own before picking it up again, smiling with a friendly cheers.  

__ 

Hours pass.  

You and Bachira drink two entire bottles and talk to each other about nothing in particular. Mostly, it’s Bachira telling you how excited he is to go to Bluelock and you listening. You like listening to him. You love his voice.  

You’re not sure when exactly the distance between you had disappeared entirely. You’re used to Bachira. To his body heat, to his presence, to his weight. You know how to carry him. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the drawn out feeling of loneliness making you feel self-conscious.  

You don’t know what it is exactly. But there’s something about him at this proximity you’re having a hard time with. Wrapped up together, tangled on your bedroom floor while you both reek of liquor. He smells like burnt honey and he’s… handsome. More than he is pretty, you think. Still pretty though too.  

He’s so unusual in every way. Your love for him sort of simmers underneath you in a pleasant but difficult way. You blink. Your eyes are bleary. He talks so much, but it’s the first time you really think about kissing him. The first time you wonder about how it feels.   

You’re staring. Bachira pauses halfway as you’re tucked against him and stares back, mouth curled into familiar chesire grin. He drops his voice down to a whisper.  

“What?” He says. He’s being teasing. He does that occasionally.  

“Nothing,” You say and want to shut your eyes. “Keep talking. ‘s fine.”  

“It’s not nothing,” He whines petulantly. “You’re not listeninggggg,”  

“Sorry.”  

He hugs you, an arm slipping under you and squeezing you. Was he always so strong? You figured his legs might be but there’s muscle in his arms too. “I’m not actually mad, dummy.”  

“I was sorry, though.” A beat of silence. A heartbeat. “I’m gonna miss you.”  

“Really?”  

You look at him incredulous. “Of course. Did you think I wouldn’t?”  

“You’re hard to read sometimes! Even for me.”  

You decide not to apologize again. Bachira would complain. You desperately want to tell him you love him. They’re the only words on you mind. But even this wasted, you can’t bring yourself to do something that pointless.  

“You’re the most important person in my entire life,” You opt for instead. “And I hope you find someone who can play the kind of soccer that’s fun for you.”  

Another minute of silence passes before you hear the familiar huff of Bachira crying. He cries often but he hasn’t done it in front of you for quite some time. He tucks himself against your neck and shoulder, shifting to press against your scent glands.  

“I was doing a good job not trying before this,” He mutters. You rub his back soothingly, smiling a bit. “Gosh…don’t be so sappy like that randomly. It’s bad for my heart!”  

Your own throat feels thick but you keep it down. Manage to swallow the tears away. You want to tell him so badly it’s making it hard to breathe.  

Bachira looks up after a while. You do him the courtesy of wiping his tears away with your thumb, brushing them away from his face.  

You don’t realize how close your faces have gotten until you nearly brush against his nose.  

You think the alcohol is making you hallucinate when you feel a kiss.  

Your eyes are still open for it. It’s not clumsy but it’s not smooth either. You blink. And you feel it again, and it lingers a little longer until you close your eyes and kiss back.  

You kiss him so hard it feels like you forget how to breathe.  

__ 

You don’t talk about it.  

When Bachira wakes up the next day thoroughly hung-over and much in the same condition, treating you exactly the same - you assume he’s forgotten about it unlike you. You try not to let it weigh on you by writing it off as one of Bachira’s many quirks. Maybe you’ve gotten practice at repressing your emotions better than you thought since it works perfectly.  

The week passes by easily. At the end of it, you see Bachira off along with his mom and the rest of your family who insisted on waving him off. The thought of not knowing the next time you’ll see him is painful but you manage it with the feeling you’ll see him eventually.  

Though you don’t know how long it’ll be.  

__  

The next time you see Bachira’s face is on T.V.  

It’s the first time you’ve ever sat in your living room to watch a game of soccer. You had wanted to attend, but tickets had only been alloted for family. You settled on watching at home, though Bachira’s mom had promised she would relay any messages she could from Bachira to you through text and otherwise.  

You’ve never been into soccer. Despite your many years spent along side it for one reason or another, the sport itself has rarely ever been of any interest. You’re sure this is partly to blame on the fact you are hilariously unathletic albeit perfectly healthy.  

When the U-2o match gets announced and you hear Bluelock will be playing, your ears perk up like a dog. You’re glad Bachira isn’t around to see how you announce to your entire house and tell them the T.V. and living room will be totally occupied during the duration of the match. You invite Miki-chan who pretends to want to refuse but comes over to watch anyway. Your nii-san joins you, which isn’t a surprise since he liked soccer to begin with.  

You know whats happening well enough since you’ve had it explained to you hundreds of times.  

You see several people on the screen during the match. Bachira’s team mates. Team mates he gets along with. There’s another player named Isagi on the field and him and Bachira have such tangible chemistry you feel a little jealous watching them.  

In the short few months Bachira has been away at Bluelock, you can see how he’s changed. How much his soccer has transformed and improved in so little time.  

Most of all, you can tell that Bachira is having the best time of his entire life. You can deal with the mild envy if only he gets to be that happy forever. 

The U-20 games end in a victory for the Bluelock team and several interesting characters appearing. That guy, Isagi, announces to the world that he’s going to be the one to lead the team to victory. You think to yourself that you understand exactly why Bachira likes him.  

The next time you see Bachira in person is not long after that. Apparently as a reward for their win, they’d been granted two weeks of free time.  

It was only a few months, but it’s easy to tell how much Bachira has changed. It was all over him. He carried himself with more confidence, more electricity, more buzz.  

He was still himself while being completely unrecognizable at the same time.  

You were happy Bachira was happy, elated to hear all about his life and new friends. You couldn’t keep track of all of it, but you’ve been spending the last few days attached at the hip now that he was back in your hometown.  

He’d had another day to visit friends already out in Shibuya that you couldn’t attend. Not that you really wanted too. You were happy he extended the invite but being around that many athletes and no doubt many alphas sounded like a nightmare.  

 You figured he would have another day or two like that as is, so when he texts you again that he’ll be meeting with some Bluelock friends, you’re content to let him go and not tag along despite yourself. As much some whiny part of you wanted to monopolize him completely (an omega part of you, you can admit) you feel it’s more important for Bachira to nurture his newer relationships on his own.  

And again, being around that many alpha athlete teenage boys is mildly nightmarish to you in particular.  

So you invited Sasaki to the mall to talk about this and that to keep your time occupied.  She’d started dating some guy at school and you have yet to know the details.  

You weren’t expecting to run into Bachira with his friends at the same mall.  

You catch Bachira’s eye from across the way in the middle of the mall, along with a group of boys you know to be his new team mates. You honestly think it’d be better to avoid them for now. Not that you’re not happy to see Bachira, but there’s no way this won’t be incredibly awkward for you. 

Sasaki nudges you though, not caring in the slightest at your visible distress. “Isn’t that Bachira-kun?”  

“Yes,” You hiss, trying not to be obvious. “Let’s go the other way.”  

“Huh? Why?”  

“Because—“ 

You turn around to leave but don’t really get a chance as you hear a voice shout your name.  

You flinch as you turn around. Sasaki gives you an amused look that you elbow her for immediately, feeling yourself jolt. After she makes fun of you, she holds your hand with an affirming squeeze and comforts you in a way only betas can - a soft citrus scent washing over you. You squeeze her hand back sighing, thankful as the group of boys stalk over to you.  

Bachira runs more than he walks, skidding to a halt in front of you. “Ehhh? What are you doing here?”  

“Came to gossip and walk around with Sasaki-chan,” You say with a shrug, pointedly ignoring the three pairs of eyes on you as you talk. “And buy books.”  

“I thought you said you couldn’t come,” Bachira pouts at you, giving you a pointed look. You smile lightly.  

“I didn’t say that,” You reply softly. “I didn’t want to intrude, that’s all.”  

“You’re not intruding! Even if you were, I wouldn’t really care.”  

“But you should,” You insist, shaking your head. You turn to his friends, getting a better look at them. Two alphas and one beta if your nose is right. You look at them apologetically. “Sorry about interrupting your outing.”  

The one of them with pink hair and the prettiest features you’ve ever seen talks first. You’re sure people mistake him for an omega, but his scent is too alpha like for that to be the case. It’s strong enough and distinct enough for you to identify from this distance. “Not at all. I’m Chigiri. This is Nagi,” He says, introducing the other alpha next to him. “And I figure you already know of Isagi,”  

You smile a little at that. “Ah, yeah. I do, actually.” You glance at Isagi. He’s a beta in the way he feels like the pinnacle of peace and safety off the field. It’s a little funny how different he seems. They all seem, really.  

“Stop getting so buddy-buddy with them,” Bachira bemoans. You frown at him.  

“Sorry about him,” You introduce your name first, then Sasaki. “We’re all childhood friends. It’s nice to meet all of you. Sorry to disturb your day off.”  

“You’re not disturbing us,” Isagi says serenely. You think he seems a touch smug but can’t tell if you’re imagining it. 

“You’re welcome to hang out,” Chigiri says next. He and Isagi share an unreadable but obviously conspiratorial look. Your eyes widen at the offer, shaking your head with your hands up.  

“Ah. No, we don’t want to intrude seriously.”  

“Why are you deciding for me?” Sasaki cuts in, making you shoot her a very sharp glare. “Shouldn’t you at least ask?”  

“You’re not intruding,” Chigiri assures, an incredibly disarming smile on his face. “We’d be bound to see each other again if we’re both here anyways. May as well, right?”  

You feel yourself sink, glancing at a very Bachira and thinking of the complaints you’re going to receive as soon as the two of you are alone. Your shoulders slump as you reluctantly smile, lips pressed into a flat line. 

‘That’s true. If you’re sure you don’t mind, then alright.  

__  

For alphas, you think Bachira’s friends are pretty nice.  

Nagi barely speaks, but he’s weirdly been engaged in conversation for the entire duration of you knowing him. He’s got the imposing looks and vibe of an alpha but precisely none of the aggression - at least from where you’re standing. He’s been considerate of you in his own way, especially after Bachira had announced the general discomfort you had felt towards alphas over all.  

Chigiri is similarly nice. You can tell he grew up around omegas and are not surprised at all when he informs you he has omega sisters in his house. He’s extremely friendly for an alpha, and you’re sure another omega would be foaming at the mouth at how polite he is.  

Of his friends though, you still take preference to Isagi. He is a beta through and through. Adaptable, friendly, easy going while having a sort of snark you find incredibly entertaining. Him and Bachira get along like a house on fire, but not in way that’s entire negative. You do feel a little envious seeing how close they’ve gotten in such a short period of time, but you’re mostly happy for him. Their bond is obviously special.  

The rest of your group left a few moments ago, leaving you and Isagi to a much bedgrudging Bachira. You’d gotten food from the food court but it wouldn’t require so many people to go wait so you and Isagi have been securing a spot. You aren’t sure how to be alone with him, never been all that good with strangers.  

Isagi is good at making conversation though, so you haven’t had to do much leg work.  

You end up at the topic of Bluelock and Isagi practically beams at the chance to talk about it. It’s kind of cute in it’s own right. You know some stuff about it, but the logistics have been lost on you. Bachira tends to talk about these things more with onomatopoeias than with words. 

You fiddle with something on the end of your bag as you engage in conversation. 

“How does the facility manage like… having omegas and stuff in there?” You wonder. You voiced the concern to Bachira before leaving too but he had assured you it’d be fine. You kind of feel nosy asking.  

Isagi shoots you a confused look. “Hm? Bluelock doesn’t have any omegas. It sucks but they considered it too high risk so only betas and alphas were admitted.”  

Your turn to look confused. “Sorry? But Bachira is enrolled in it no…?”  

Isagi stares at you. “Uh,” He scratches the back of his neck. “Bachira is an alpha, though? Like, a pretty strong one too. It’s hard to tell from his scent from what I hear but he’s prescribed the really high dose medications that the other alphas take. Part of the rut management and everything.”  

You blink.  

“…That’s…” And then you look up, completely unsure of what to say. “..Are you sure? Like… really sure?” 

Isagi looks at you sympathetically. His voice is soft and comforting. “Yeah. I’m sure. Sorry,”  

You shake your head. “No it’s,” You feel your eyes start to well up, chest feeling especially tight. “It’s okay. It’s not like you did anything wrong.”  

“You’re a nice girl, huh?” Isagi says, voice tender and easily sensing your sudden distress. It makes your lip wobble. You want to cry into a strangers arms even though you absolutely can’t. “I’ll scold him for you.”  

You give him a thankful look. “I’m gonna uh,” You swallow. “Go to the bathroom. When Sasaki comes back tell her to text me. And Bachira, uhm. I guess just tell him I went home.”  

Isagi smiles. “Sure.”  

You thank him again picking up your few things hastily and bolting in the opposite direction.  

You don’t really know what you’re supposed to do or how you’re so suppose to receive the information. It’s not a sense of betrayal you feel welling up inside of you, but something closer to  a sudden deep remorse and regret. And so much shock you can barely make sense of anything. You feel the sorry in your bones, and you feel the paved memories of your entire lifetime begging to shake under your feet.  

Bachira is still Bachira. 

But he’s an alpha. An alpha who likes other alphas, in the same way you’re an omega who likes other omegas. He’s like you. You shared this your entire life, but you never knew not once. You didn’t even have any idea.  

What kind of friend does that make you? What kind of friend have you been to him all this time? Was it bad enough that he couldn’t share it? When you’ve depended on him so much?  

You don’t know how you end up in a bathroom. It’s in such a far away part of the mall. You feel out of body, moving on autopilot as you shuffle into the empty stall and sit on the toliet with your bag and your things.  

You’re reminded of your first heat on the train back from middle school. An old memory but not old enough you easily forget. Hesitance turned to frustration and disgust towards alphas. You’d avoided after that for years and still do now. Was it then?  

Despondent, you aren’t sure what to do with yourself. The echo of stalls, the noise of people loudly outside, the forceful beat of your heart. A reminder that you’re really living through this realization so late. It’s weird. It hurts so much you can barely think through your thoughts and come upon any answers on how to go on.  

It’s not hard to understand why. Bachira is selfish but he’s also loyal. You’re sure that sometime ago, to protect the vulnerable version of you who was already so distrusting of alphas, Bachira had kept it from you as to break your perception any further. You can’t blame him for that, especially when that distrust towards alphas yet to dissolve completely. Of course he wouldn’t be comfortable telling you.  

You can’t bring yourself to hate him over it and never would. You’d spend the rest of your life trying to unglue the fused parts of yourself with him, the memories and you’d never see the end of it if you attempted.  

What hurts you is that he never told you. Not ever. Not even when you voiced your worries about his heats in Bluelock. Not even as you drank together. Not even when he kissed you. 

Was he never going to tell you? 

Did he never trust you enough to tell you? 

That hurts most. You only have yourself to blame. The thought makes your heart wrench. Your eyes water as you focus in on the ground and try to breathe. 

The door of the bathroom itself opens and shuts all of a sudden, familiar footfall making hundreds of alarm bells go off at once. You already know it’s Bachira, but for the first time you don’t know what you’re meant to say to him. The feeling is so complex you can barely put it in words for yourself. How were you meant to face him?  

“Meguru,”  

You can hear him whimper on the other side of the stall door, fists hitting it in a dull thud.  

“I’m sorry,” He’s crying. You want to open the door and comfort him so badly but shame stops you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry - it’s all my fault. Don’t hate me, please don’t hate me.”  

You hate hearing him cry. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to keep your voice steady. “I don’t hate you at all.”  

“You’re lying. You won’t even open the door to look at me.”  

“I just can’t,” You say, not really know how else to explain it. “But nothing could make me hate you.”  

“But you hate alphas, don’t you? You’re uncomfortable with me now. We can’t be close anymore, right?”  

You don’t say anything to that. You want to deny it. You want to tell him nothing could make you want to stop being his friend.  

But then, you remember that Bachira is destined for unimaginable greatness. Bright like the sun and even more interesting, more talented, more cool than you could ever be. He’s an alpha to boot. You think of the future of your life and how you’ve always pictured it to be quiet and functional, because that’s who you’ve always been. Bachira is—was a star crash landing in your life, anyhow. You think of all of that, along with everything else - and all the ways you’ve betrayed him unintentionally.  

You’ve used up all of your luck. Inevitably. Eventually, it was always going to end with a gradually forming distance. You knew that before he left just like you know it now. And nows as good a time as any to put it to rest.  

“Meguru,” He’s your first friend. You’re sure that’s why he’s so shaken up. Distance would be better. “You have to focus on becoming the best in the world, right? I’ll uh,” You try to breathe. “I’ll be watching from a distance no matter what,”  

“Please don’t leave me,” He whimpers. You wince.  

“It’s not like that. There’s a lot of people who are beside you now.” You say warily, trying to comfort him. If you were a more selfish person, you would want to be friends. You love Bachira. You’ve loved him your entire life. You probably always will. But you think if he’s had to keep this secret from you so long - you don’t deserve any of that. “It’s fine. You’ll be fine,” 

Without me. You’ll be fine without me. You want to tell him that, but can’t bring yourself to say it.  

You won’t be, you don’t think. Not for a while. But this is the least you can do for your relationship. For your best friend who you haven’t paid enough attention too.  

“I’ll stay with you until you stop crying,” You offer. “And when your eyes aren’t red, we can both just go home. Okay?” 

Bachira sniffles on the other side of the door and doesn’t reply. 

__  

[ EIGHTEEN ] 

On your eighteenth birthday, Bachira’s mom calls you at midnight.  

Yu-san is like a third parent to you, so you pick regardless for the reason she calls. She sounds relieved when you answer despite the sleep in your voice. You’re up late studying for your driving license exam which you’ll finally be eligible to take starting now.  

“Ah. Hello?”  

“Hey, kid. Thanks for picking my call,” She sounds like she’s doing something. It’s a Sunday so she’s probably painting. “Don’t sound too confused. I just called to wish you happy birthday. Meguru always called you at midnight, didn’t he?”  

You look down at the papers on your desk, twirling pen in fingers. “Yeah, he did.”  

“You two still aren’t talking, right? But knowing Meguru, he’ll feel sad later on when he realizes he didn’t wish you because he was upset,” She hums, nonplussed. You smile a little. Yu-san is just like that, you think. Even after being aware of you and Bachira’s fights, the way she’s treated you hasn’t changed. “So I thought I’d do in his place.”  

“It’s alright, Yu-san. But thank you,”  

“Of course,” She says. You hear the faucet running and the familiar clicking of paint brushes on the other side of the line. “Come over when you have some time. I brought ingredients for your favorite. We can go pick up a cake together, too. I bet you’re too busy studying and forgot to make plans, right?”  

You flush. “…I did.”  

She laughs good-naturedly. “Right? I thought so. I know it’s just you in the house, but feel free to invite Sasaki and Miki-chan, alright? And don’t stay up too late studying.”  

You feel tears well up in the corners of your eyes. “Thank you for always taking care of me, Yu-obasan,”  

“Oh, don’t be silly. That’s a given right?”  

“Right,” You sniffle. “But still, thanks.”  

“Of course. Oh! And, happy birthday.”  

[v1x3n]

BLOOD. TEETH. GUTS! ── ripped apart.

♯ PAIRINGS - john price x falsely accused reader x 141

♯ SYNOPSIS - tortured for information by your family and the person you loved, john price. you were harmed for something you hadn't even done, you were framed as the traitor and soon they would find out.

♯ TAGS - angst - mentions of torture, breakdowns, violence, possible sa, argument, johnny being a dick, starving.

─ previous chapter // masterlist // next chapter ─

The buzzing fizzes up your ears. Constant. Painful.

It's like static. Yeah. Static blocks out all other senses, the only thing you could focus on was the ringing, forever ringing that fills your head.

Then you look up at him. The guy that caused the pain - well, one of the guys - the guy who's currently standing at the fucking door to your therapist's office.

Why does HE need therapy?

Your eyes were full of shellshock, the memories of the eyes you were looking into, feral as they glared at you whilst ripping your teeth out one by one. But now they look at you, sadness overfilling the wet eyes. The corners are red, just as yours are. Just as yours will always be. Breathing slightly picks up as you stand up.

"I'm sorry, do you two know each other?" Jones starts to speak, following you with her eyes when your legs shake slightly, your movements taking you slowly to the right. Moving to the side of the sofa. "Why the f-fuck are you here." your breathing picks up vastly. Flashes of blood, teeth and guts pop into your head as you're reminded of what he did to you.

"Oh god, fuck- y/n." Johnny steps forward, closing the gap between you two as your breathing thins. Short sharp breaths you inhale and exhale. "Why the fuck are you here!" demanding an answer you didn't want. "Jones is my therapist, trust me, she helps tons." Johnny says casually. As if you two were friends, fucking friends. This wasn't casual though. You were fuming, steam almost flowing out of your ears, your face glowing red.

"What the fuck do you need therapy for?" you scoff, your eyes looking at him up and down, giving him the hackiest of looks. Eyes squinting, trying to see what he truly wanted, trying to see underneath all the lies that dared to utter from his mouth. "A lot of people go to therapy, y/n-" Jones starts but you cut her off, fury raging stronger than your natural kindness. "You. Don't. Fucking need SHIT!" Blood. Teeth. Guts.

You step forward, crashing all around you as you inhale the familiar scent of Johnny. The one you used to link to drinking together or that one time you accidently walked in on him showering and saw him using your shampoo. But now all you saw was when he would harm you. Hatred fuels through you as the scent overtakes you, a prick of tear showing at your waterline. Dripping down your angry face.

"I- bonnie-" he steps back. The tension in the room filled it, an overwhelming atmosphere all around you - you couldn't be here anymore. Your breathing picked up faster than before as everything seemed to move at 2 times speed. "Fuck off!" you barge past him, making sure to push him into the doorframe as you walk by.

Johnny grunts as he hits the wood. The hard frame probably bruised him but fuck him. You didn't care. Actually, you hoped he was hurt. You hoped he would feel the pain that you did - that he put you through. And it would take a lot more than a small push.

It was a stupid idea to follow you, wasn't it?

Tears stream down your face as you scream at him, "you fucking dickhead!!"

Blood. Teeth. Guts.

The images flash through you as his hand reaches toward you, "Y/n, I'm sorry. We made a mistake." "no fucking shit!!" swatting his hand away from you, he couldn't fucking think for a second that you would let him near you. He was lucky you touched him when you barged past him, he was lucky you were talking - well screaming - to him. He was lucky you didn't kill yourself after everything. "I told you! I fucking told y-you that it wasnt me!" sobbing out whilst shouting at him, hitting his chest with more and more anger as you continue to talk.

"Why do you need fucking therapy? Was it so hard for you when you tortured me? When you ripped my teeth out? When you CUT my fingers off?"

People around you were looking. But you didn't care, you didn't care about the stares. All you cared about was your rage. You hadn't let out much emotion since it happened, nothing but what was burning inside of you. Every person you knew told you that you needed to let it out before it started spilling. You were just letting it out. This wasn't even half your rage.

"I didn't fucking want to - and yes it was hard! You were my best friend!"

"And yet you didn't believe me?"

"how- how could I? You would've done the same thing if you got told I fucking betrayed you."

You look up at him, misery in your eyes. "I would've found more fucking information before ripping someone's teeth out!" you hiss spitefully at him, glaring at him as you do so. You were so sick of that fucking excuse, 'we had to do it', bullshit.

They didn't have to strip you, they didn't have to tie you up, they didn't have to starve you. They didn't have to be so fucking cruel about it all.

"You don't fucking understand how hard it was for me to do that."

"Excuse me, you two need to calm down" a doctor walks up to the two of you, surrounded by some other doctors, yet you ignore them. Your eyebrows rise in utter shock. "I'm sure it was really fucking hard!" You yell at him. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Drops spill down your face at a rapid speed. The doctor's eyes dart between the two of you, concern etched into his features. He takes a deep breath. "Please, you two are upsetting patients. Let's just all calm down." He suggests gently, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"'Calm down'" you mock, "Yeah! Sure! Let's just forget about fucking everything!" Your tears flow down your face as the man in front of you sighs. You step towards the man who harmed you, daring him to come closer. Your steps are like thunder as they stomp towards the man. "I'm sure you'd fucking love it!" Unable to contain your anger, you take a swing at Johnny. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Unluckily he swiftly dodged. After taking a deep ragged breath, you could hear commotion around you as the doctors rushed to you and closed in. Random hospital words that you didn't know were thrown around. You feel hands pulling you back, voices urging you to stop. Pulling you away from the situation but you wouldn't stop.

You defy, trying to push them off as you see Johnny being escorted away through glimpses of your tears. The images flash through your mind, over and over. On repeat. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Blood. Teeth. Guts. Like a never-ending cycle of rage. The security guards finally intervene, separating you from the doctors. As they try to escort you out, tears stream down your reddening face as you try as hard as you can to part from their aggressive grasp. As you get more and more uncooperative, a silver cold metal shoots into your neck - instantly effective as you slump into the many guards' arms.

Johnnys eyes are wet as he is brought away, looking over at you slanted in the many guys arms/ guilt and regret evident in his weary eyes.

[xingumi]

jasmine (megumi fushiguro x reader)

“you can’t, okay? not with him. not with anyone else. just me now.” 

tags: sfw, fluff, crush confession, possessive megumi, jealous megumi, friends to lovers, itadori is also there, nobara is also there, megumi can’t be honest with himself

notes: first fic!! also posted on my ao3, my writing requests are open :3 i wrote this for my friend and maybe some1 else will like too... art by @pantarheio8

----

megumi makes every effort to be a perfect gentleman. he holds your bags on shopping trips, picks up the lunch bill, and pulls his punches while sparring with you during training. his gestures are always perfectly measured, showing slight softness but keeping him at a safe, respectable distance. mostly because he didn’t like what it would mean for him if he let himself get any closer. 

his self control was a fragile thing, fraying at the edges when you spared a glance for anyone else. there is a limit to how far his friendly courtesy goes; his greed speaks to him stronger than his restraint, whispering insidious little thoughts– should be mine… 

he only recently came to the shameful realization of just how much he likes you. it didn’t happen all at once, it was slower. quieter, like a stray thread of his heart snagging and unraveling before he could stop it. he caught himself looking at you for a moment longer than necessary and he noticed the way his chest felt too tight when you smiled at him. it pained him how badly he wanted to monopolize your attention and how easily you monopolized his.

by the time he understood what it meant, it was already too late. megumi fushiguro had fallen in love with you. and somehow, that was the last thing he had ever wanted.

he cared too much about you to say something to you, to be freed from his silent yearning and to love you the way you were intended to be loved. he couldn’t throw away your friendship for feelings that he himself didn’t understand.

so he kept his hands in his pockets when he wanted to reach for yours. he looked away when you leaned in too close. he bit his tongue when the words hovering on the edge of his lips weren’t the ones a friend should say.

still, he hated the bitterness that came from being kept from his heart’s desire.

the proof is in the muscles in his face that twitch and flash a disapproving frown at the sight of itadori laxly throwing his arm around you. it bothered him how easily yuji touched you like it was nothing at all. it bothered him more that you seem to lean into the “friendly” gesture. he tries to explode itadori’s arm with his mind, unavailingly.

“on saturday, we can spend the whole day in tokyo, girls trip, no boys!” nobara exclaims like an eager grade schooler, linking her arm through yours and yanking you from itadori’s grasp. while thankful for that, a small wrinkle forms between megumi’s tightly knit brows. it doesn’t seem fair that she gets to lay claim to your time in a way that he couldn’t without blowing his cover. even nobara isn’t safe from megumi’s possessiveness. he sighs and turns a page in the book he’s pretending to read. 

you free yourself from being sandwiched between your two friends, standing abruptly from the couch. 

“i’d love to, bara, but i’m training with fushiguro that day.” you say apologetically, turning on your heels and planting yourself in the seat next to megumi.

hearing his name is bittersweet. he wishes you wouldn’t be so formal, but he loves hearing you say his name. in the quietest hours of the night, he imagines the sound of your voice ringing in his ear, calling his name over and over again. 

“whaatt? is this true?” nobara demands, narrowing her eyes at megumi. her voice snaps him back to reality and he replies without looking up. 

“she skipped last week. it’s only fair.” he remembers that you were markedly missing that day. your absence didn’t go unnoticed as you’d hoped it would. 

nobara huffs, defeated. “oh yeah, AND we missed human earthworm 4 because you saw it last saturday with yuji!”

megumi’s whole body stiffens. the room feels a little smaller and his breath suddenly feels uncomfortable in his throat. 

is that where she disappeared to? a whole day with him? why not anyone else? did they…  were they just hanging out? why didn’t she tell me? i’ve known her for longer than he has, so why would it be him?

megumi is quiet for a long minute. his white knuckles grip the book in his hand that he’s been using as a prop. his eyebrows are stitched together closer than before and his lips have pressed themselves into a thin line. 

i don’t even care! but… was it a date? does she like him or something? he definitely likes her, that piece of shit, he doesn’t know the first thing about her. 

but she didn’t even think to ask me. i want her to hang out with me. am i too late?

he barely heard the rest of the conversation. his mind was stuck on the image forming in his head— itadori walking beside you, making you laugh, sitting too close in a dark theater.

if he tried anything, i’ll seriously kill him. he’s dead either way. 

you notice megumi’s withdrawn posture and look at him inquisitively, craning your neck to gauge his body language. he’s quiet but not this quiet. he looks really, really pissed off. to you, it just looked like his book had just deeply offended him. you lean closer to him to get his attention. his eyes shoot up for a brief second to meet your concerned eyes. he feels like he’s been caught, like you can see right through him. 

“‘s something wrong?” you ask, wanting to put a comforting hand on his knee. you stop yourself, not knowing how he would receive the touch.

“confusing chapter,” he lies, with more hardness in his voice than he intended. 

– 

megumi couldn’t think straight the rest of the day. he was filled with a tight uneasiness and a heart-sinking feeling simmering beneath his skin that was impossible to ignore. he was so distraught by the idea of someone else making you smile in a way that was supposed to be his to earn.

the day passed unwillingly. every conversation felt like static in his ears. the training session was a waste of movement, his focus was shot to hell. even the simplest things—walking through the halls, eating dinner, hearing your voice—felt grating. the more he thought about it, the worse it got. the worse he got. 

the sky had deepened from azure to deep navy and the corridors quieted for the night. he was sick of his thoughts looping over themselves, tangled and knotting up. he figured that he’d done enough sulking for the day. 

megumi found himself on his feet, walking through the hall in a posture and cadence that felt weird, even to him. he couldn’t stop his feet from dragging as he navigated his way to your room. the walk was too short for him to reconsider his reckless decision. he stares at your door blankly before tapping three hollow knocks on the wood. 

“hello? it’s me,” he whispers, just loud enough to be heard through the wall. his voice is quivering already.

you’re reading your textbook when you hear his familiar voice cut the silence of the evening. startled, you slide out of bed to meet him at the door. he’s unexpectedly close to the door when you open it, making him shift back half a step. 

“hi, megumi,” you smile and look up at him. his arms hung awkwardly at his sides and his hands clenched and unclenched, like he didn’t know what to do with them. the blue light from the window in the hallway hit his angular face in a way that carved shadows along his sharp features, making his eyes seem darker and stormier. he’s always been handsome, sure, but something’s different about him now. you feel strangely intimidated by the broadness of his shoulders and the severe look he’s giving you now. 

he’s quiet for a second too long, also taking in how pretty you look out of uniform. 

“may i come in?” megumi asks, his voice still low. 

“of course,” you reply.

if he was nervous before, he was absolutely frantic walking into your room. his heart drummed against his ribs in a hurried rhythm, an anxious percussion echoing in his chest. 

“make yourself at home,” you gesture with open palms to your room. megumi is too nervous to sit so he stands with his feet planted in the dead center of your room.

“i hope i’m not intruding, were you up to something before this?” 

“not at all, you actually saved me from studying for history,” you laugh a little. his expression softens and his resolve is refreshed by the sound of your laughter. how could he let anyone else take this from him?

“okay, good…” megumi’s voice trails off. his breathing is heavier than usual. multiple beats of silence pass, too long and too heavy. it’s never usually awkward like this. you watch him, a bit lost as to why your crush of many months is standing in your room, stiff as a soldier at attention. 

even now, when he’s uncharacteristically uneasy, there’s something magnetic about him. a long day has weathered his usual guarded demeanor, leaving him looking just a little undone—his hair messier than usual, and in his casual clothes, the sharp control he always carries himself with has softened at the edges. somehow, his unpolished silhouette makes him even more handsome. there’s something breathtaking about seeing him like this, as if, for once, you’re seeing what’s underneath all the restraint he usually wears like armor.

still, he couldn’t have come at this hour of the night to have small talk. you don’t speak, just tilting your head at him, sensing there’s something he wants to say by the way his lips are parted slightly.  

he realizes then he has to get it out. he swallows hard, trying to draw enough moisture from his throat to speak. he exhales sharply through his nose, eyes flickering to the floor before dragging back up to meet yours.

then–

“i–,” his breath hitches. the words stick in his throat, thick and burning, because once they’re out, there’s no taking them back. he takes a labored breath before trying again. this time, his voice comes out in a rush like floodgates opening. 

“i just have to say something. i can’t watch like everything’s okay, i can’t pretend like it doesn’t bother me because it does. it really, really does. it’s driving me insane, because it’s not just today, it’s every time i see you with someone else, every time i think about–” he sucks in a shaky breath before his words roll out heavy again.

“i like you, okay? i’ve always liked you. you don’t know what you do to me and i’ve never felt this way about anything.” he drags one hand through his hair and avoids your gaze. 

“i’ve been waiting all this time– i don’t even know for what, but it was completely stupid because it feels like you’re slipping through my fingers and i’m too late and i just can’t–” he’s becoming completely undone in front of you, his voice swelling like an intense musical score. he shakes his head and struggles to become coherent. his voice comes out quieter when he speaks again. 

“i just– i can’t lose you. i can’t stand the thought of it, please…” by the end of his desperate ramble, his eyes have darted to every corner of your room and he’s sweating. when the dust has settled, he’s breathless, almost panting. 

“please, say something,” he’s pleading now, his voice even lower. 

despite his request, you don’t say anything at all. you can’t find the words. your feet move by themselves, silently taking swift steps towards him and closing the distance between the two of you. you hook your arms under his, pulling yourself to his chest. you finally hear how hard his heart is beating now. your head rests underneath his chin as you firmly wrap your arms around him and breathe him in fully.

“you don’t have to worry about losing me.”

megumi doesn’t immediately register the warm pressure that’s lodged itself comfortably against him. suddenly, his knees feel weak and his shoulders slump, finally being relieved of the tension he’s been holding all day. at the same instant, the invisible barrier he’d built around himself shatters, crumbling beneath the weight of your warmth.

for a moment, he can’t move at all, but his instincts bring his arms to you, hesitant at first, then tighter, pulling you flush against him like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. his hands grab at the fabric of your shirt, less chivalrously than he would’ve consciously decided. 

“you really mean it?” he whispers hoarsely. you nod without pulling yourself away from him.

in this moonlit memory, beautiful and tender, you can’t help but laugh. stoic and aloof megumi fushiguro has become a nervous wreck in a way you could’ve never imagined. you found it both endearing and amusing how helplessly vulnerable he made himself be for you. amusing only because he had been so wracked with anxiety, thinking you didn’t feel the same way, and he couldn’t have been more wrong. 

he feels the vibration of your failed attempt to hold your laughter and looks down, arms still around you. you meet his eyes, beaming ear to ear. 

“this is about that thing with itadori, right?”

he throws his head to one side and gives a weak scowl, irritated at the mention of his name. you laugh again, taking his dramatic annoyance as an answer to your question. it also annoyed him how well you knew him; he was a completely open book to you. he shakes his head. “no, well yes, but no, not really,” he huffs.

“i’ll have to thank him for bringing this out of you then.”

“i think you’ve had enough time with him recently.” megumi retorts quickly, abruptly shutting that idea down. 

you laugh again while soaking up the last seconds of his embrace before finally peeling yourself off him. you’re still connected at the waist when you meet his half lidded eyes, intently focused and glazed over with need. 

“you can’t, okay? not with him. not with anyone else. just me now.” he whispers, suddenly serious.

he says it with such authority that you don’t question what he means. you give him one slow nod. you notice how painfully close your faces are. you feel his steady breath tickling your skin. his hand finds its way to your chin, tilting your head up and to one side. anticipation paints your face as you both inch closer—

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝐵𝑒𝑔 𝑏𝑦 𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑎 ♪

༺ Here, Kitties! ༻

Oneshot ~ Hybrid Cats x Female Reader

Summary ~ Your rich grandmother gifted you three troublesome hybrid cats. Once they become comfortable, they become a little too attached.

Featuring ~ Original Characters: Boaz, Elias, and Nyx

Extra Notes ~ This is the non fandom version of this story. If you want to read the Tokyo Revengers’ version, press this link.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

You were not the biggest fan of the newly made system of hybrids being sold as pets. A hybrid was basically a human—just with a little more animal instinct, claws, and a tail. They were halflings. If anything, they could be classified as superhuman or even monstrosities, but calling them pets was a reach. They were basically slaves in this society.

You saw them everywhere—well, amongst the rich who could afford them. Even if you were rich, you wouldn’t buy them. It was morally strained and just plain wrong. It was disgusting. It was also risky, as those halflings were stronger than humans. You were surprised the creatures hadn’t decided to take over humanity. According to the scientists who created them, it was a huge possibility.

When you first heard about it, you wondered why those people would even make such a thing, though their reasoning was that hybrids could do anything humans couldn’t due to their lack of instinctual roots. It was stupid.

That’s why, when you received a huge crate inside the living room of your two-bedroom apartment, you were taken aback. You snatched the note from the structure and read that your rich grandmother had gifted you hybrid cats because she pitied your lack of social interaction. Of course, she didn’t write it like that, but that was basically what the card said.

She even provided you with a credit card that she promised to pay off for the sake of buying whatever the hybrids needed. You grabbed the long document that was taped against the wood.

You were informed that there were three cat hybrids in the crate. They were three males who had an established relationship between them. There was a shorthair Burmese, a tiger, and a panther.

You sighed as you began to think of ways you could send them back to your grandmother. There was no way you wanted three grown-ass men living in your semi-small apartment.

You stepped forward, unclipping the metal lock as you swiftly opened the large crate. Your eyes widened at the display in front of you.

Sitting in the middle was a man with two dark strands flowing over his face—the rest of his black hair pulled back into a loose tuft. He had two slanted black ears that protruded from his long black strands. A black collar was secured around his neck, with a golden bell hanging from the fabric. He had sharp features, glowing green eyes narrowing at your figure, while a frown—with two fangs poking from his lips—was plastered on his expression.

His arms were wrapped around two men who were curled on either side of him. The one on the left had short hair, brown bangs covering his forehead as his grey irises lifted to you. He had a matching collar wrapped around his neck, and his blonde ears matched the middle man’s. He wore an expression of caution as he sniffed the air, his tail wrapped over his leg.

On the right side, a man with wispy, chest-length blonde strands and long bangs framing his face stared at you with slanted chartreuse-yellow eyes. One of his striped ears was upright while the other was folded, a matching collar tied around his neck with his tail slowly flapping against the wood. Although he was expressionless, there was a coldness to his features.

“Hi there,” you say hesitantly with a slight wave. You didn’t really know what to say, having never been around a hybrid in your life. You’d seen them on social media or at a distance but never in close proximity.

You sighed when they didn’t respond, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Look, I know this is probably an uncomfortable situation for you. Maybe even more than it is for me. I did not buy you, nor did I even know you were here,” you clear your throat before continuing. “You guys are free to do whatever you want. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Their skeptical silence motivated you to continue. “Unfortunately, my apartment is kind of small, so you’ll have to share the second bedroom. The bed should be big enough for all three of you, so… yeah,” you finish before walking off to your bedroom.

You skimmed through the document that came with the crate as you sat at your desk. Apparently, your first move was the correct thing to do, considering you had greeted them and walked away to allow them to observe their environment.

You were supposed to stay out of their way for the remainder of the day while they sniffed around so that there were no risks of an attack. Their claws and teeth were sharp and thick—perfect weapons when they felt threatened.

You face-palmed as you realized you’d have to go shopping for all of their needs. You barely had anything in the fridge, and these creatures were carnivores. The horror stories you’d heard of hybrids going haywire and consuming their owners broke through your thoughts, making you shiver.

Luckily, it had been a few hours since you were last in the living room. You had no idea what they were doing, so you hoped your presence wouldn’t startle them when you appeared.

You push yourself up from your desk with a sigh, rubbing your temples as you mentally prepare yourself. It’s been quiet—too quiet. Either they’re still getting used to their surroundings, or they’re plotting something. You shake off the paranoia.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you peek into the hall before making your way to the living room. The panther hybrid sits in the center of the floor, one leg propped up as an arm rests over his knee. His golden bell faintly jingles as his green eyes flick to you the moment you appear. The Burmese hybrid is crouched near the crate, sniffing at the air, while the tiger hybrid lounges on the couch, one arm draped over the back as his yellow eyes settle on you.

“Uh… so,” you start, shifting awkwardly. “I need to go out and buy you guys food. And, uh, other stuff.”

The Burmese hybrid tilts his head, ears twitching, while the tiger hybrid just blinks.

“You’re leaving?” The panther’s voice is smooth but carries an edge that makes your stomach tighten.

“Just for a bit,” you confirm. “I don’t have anything for you to eat and might need to get some other supplies.”

The black-eared man gazes at you with a calculating look. You shift under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling exposed. He leans back slightly, the golden bell around his neck giving a soft jingle.

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I’ll go with you,” he repeats, tone flat.

“So will I,” the tiger hybrid adds, his voice softer than you expected.

The short-haired man hums, stretching his arms over his head. “Mmm… yeah. We should all go,” he muses, voice light. There’s a glint of amusement in his grey eyes as he looks at you. “Gotta make sure our owner doesn’t leave us stranded, right?”

“I’m not your owner,” you say, hands on your hips. “I didn’t buy you, and I don’t want to own anyone. You can do whatever you want.”

“Sure,” he grins in response.

You huff at his disbelief.

The tiger hybrid pushes himself off the couch, rolling his shoulders. “Either way, we’re coming with you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the panther hybrid tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“…Fine,” you mutter. “But if you cause problems, I’m kicking all of you out.”

The panther hybrid smirks. “Understood.”

“So, what do you guys eat? Do you eat, like… cat food or something?” you question as you turn the wheel of the car.

The panther you learned was named Boaz scoffed in the passenger seat, his arms crossed.

“Cat food? Do you see how big we are?” He kept his gaze toward the window as he spoke to you.

“We prefer raw humans, but fish is really good too,” Elias chuckled from the back seat, his claws holding onto your seat as he leaned forward.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Nyx flicked Elias’s temple, causing the tiger to shout, “Ow!”

“We like raw fish. Steak works too,” the Burmese informed you.

“Okay, cool. Is there anything else I should get? Like, do you like cat toys or scratchers or anything?”

“Goddamn, you think we’re regular cats or something?” This time, Boaz’s gaze shifted to you with an eyebrow raised.

“Look, I told you guys that I didn’t buy you. I don’t know shit about hybrids, alright? Otherwise, I would’ve prepared.” You missed the glances they shared while you focused on the road.

“If you didn’t buy us, then who did?” Nyx questioned with curiosity, grey irises on the back of your head.

“Yeah, and how’d you even afford us? Your apartment looks average compared to our last owner,” Elias spoke up, now leaning back in his seat while his yellow eyes stared out the window.

“My grandma bought you and had someone place you in my apartment. I wasn’t expecting you when I got home,” you sighed. “Honestly, this is already a lot of responsibility I didn’t ask for. I was thinking about somehow sending you back from wherever you came,” you say honestly.

“Well, I’m not going back to that shithole, so you’re gonna have to learn how to take care of us,” Boaz stated.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, I don’t have to do shit,” you respond. “What’s up with your attitude, huh?”

“That’s just how Boaz talks, Y/n,” Nyx said softly. “Also, if your grandmother bought us, then she signed the contract.”

Your eyes meet the Burmese through the rearview mirror. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, that means we’re bound to you for at least five years until the contract expires. Then, you’ll have to renew or return,” Elias explained from behind you.

“There are no refunds,” the hybrid next to the tiger added.

“How do you guys know so much about the contract? You said you had an owner before, right? How’d that go?”

“None of your business,” Boaz hissed.

You must’ve struck a nerve. You made a note to yourself to never bring up their last owner.

You watch as the hybrids snatch up packs of frozen meat and piles of junk food, tossing them into your cart without a second thought. You can already tell the receipt is going to be ridiculous, and you just hope your grandmother was serious about covering the credit card bill.

Now in the electronics section, you stand by while the guys grab a gaming console, controllers, and a bunch of different games. Your expression morphs into concern as you pull out your phone, turning away slightly while dialing your grandmother.

The moment she picks up, you start explaining everything they’ve been piling into the cart, asking���no, practically begging—for reassurance that it’s okay to charge what’s bound to be an insane total. She just laughs, telling you not to worry about it and to enjoy your new companions.

Nyx then asks you to stop by an electronics store to get them phones, and despite your hesitation, you end up spending hours buying three different phones under your grandmother’s name.

Even though they’re grown men, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re some overwhelmed mother letting her teenage sons run wild with her credit card. It’s stifling—but you let it slide, for now. You wonder why anyone would want this kind of responsibility.

“Hey! You assholes better help bring everything in, or I’m taking all of your electronics!” you shout at the two hybrids casually strolling into the apartment, leaving you and Nyx outside to do all the work.

Once all four of you finally get everything inside—and after making them help you haul the crate to the dumpster—the hybrids begin setting up their electronics while you start preparing their raw fish. You follow the recipe of some hybrid owner who’s popular on social media.

When you’re finished, you set their plates on the table and call them over from their game. You leave the leftovers on the stove for them to grab, and inform them that they need to clean everything up when they’re done. Nyx raises a brow at you as he picks up his plate.

“You’re not gonna eat with us?” he asks, settling onto the couch, one ear twitching while his tail lazily flaps against the cushion.

Boaz and Elias are sitting on the floor with their backs against the bottom of the sofa. The plates are set on their laps with their controllers set aside on the carpet. They both glance up at you, ears perking with curiosity.

“Nah, I’m gonna shower, then maybe order something. I only made the raw fish anyway, and I don’t eat that,” you say, scratching the back of your head before heading out of the living room.

It has been six months since you got used to your new roommates. It has become a routine—waking up, going to work while they sleep, then coming home to these guys. The first night, you forgot to tell them you had work the next morning, so you had Nyx and Elias blowing up your phone with notifications.

Despite the annoyance, it was kind of adorable, so you let it go. It was your fault for not informing them, after all. You didn’t want to admit that you actually enjoyed their presence, but honestly, it felt like what you imagined having brothers would be like.

One night, you decided to read up on cat hybrids specifically. You never finished reading the manual, and you figured now was a good time. It seemed like a smart idea, considering some of the off-putting moments you’ve had with them.

One day, you had a day off from work and decided to stay in. You were sitting between Elias and Boaz on the sofa, playing a game on the television. Nyx was in the bedroom, taking a nap. When Elias won, he accidentally scratched both sides of your neck while grabbing your shoulders in victory, exclaiming, “Did you see that?”

You remained calm at the stinging sensation, assuming it hadn’t left any significant mark. Unbeknownst to you, a drop of red liquid began oozing from both scratches. Both hybrids’ pupils dilated as the scent of your blood brushed past their noses.

Your eyes widened as Boaz’s hand pressed against your forehead, pinning your head back against the couch while both men lowered their heads, their ears flat against their skulls. Elias’s hand slid over your opposite hip, pulling you closer, his claws piercing the fabric of your bottoms.

You froze as two wet muscles dragged against the skin of your neck before lips closed around your wounds. A shiver ran down your spine as your knees pressed together. Your hands clenched into fists as you stared at the ceiling.

Boaz licked over his own saliva before pulling back, Elias mimicking the motion as they released you. When you lifted your head, you watched as they picked up their controllers and went back to the game as if nothing had happened.

“Um, what the fuck was that?” you asked, your voice a little higher than usual.

“What the fuck was what?” Boaz responded flatly.

“That. What you guys just did.” You frowned.

“Oh, that? We just cleaned the blood from your neck,” Elias shrugged.

Another time, you were in the kitchen chopping up some raw steak when you accidentally cut the skin of your middle finger.

“Ouch!” you cried, immediately rinsing the stinging area with soap and water. Nyx had just walked in to see what you were up to.

When you lifted your finger from the sink, you saw that blood was still seeping through the cut.

“Damnit,” you groaned.

Your attention turned to the hybrid as he suddenly snatched your wrist, both hands holding yours as he brought your finger to his mouth. He stuck his tongue out slightly, licking the blood before circling his lips around your finger, sucking it all the way in while his gaze never left yours.

Heat rushed to your face as he continued sucking the wound for a moment before pulling your finger out of his mouth and releasing you.

“You should really use a disinfectant spray on that, Y/n.”

You understood that hybrids had different societal norms than humans, so you didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you probably should have. You just blamed it on the fact that you had different perceptions of social interactions.

You were confused when you reached a certain part of the passage.

“Heat?”

Your eyes widened as you stood in the doorway of your bathroom. It was late at night, and the door had already been cracked open, so when you saw the light on, you assumed one of the guys had forgotten to turn it off—something that had happened before.

You weren’t expecting to see Boaz with his exposed back turned to you, leaning against the wall with the palm of his hand pressed flat against it. His other arm was moving at a ridiculous speed while you heard wet flapping sounds. The end of his tail twitched while his ears were upright.

Your heart thumps faster against your chest as he turns back to look at you with narrowed green eyes. His lips were apart as he breathed heavily, his arm still moving violently. You both stared at each other before you pulled the door shut.

There was another time where you had woken up to loud thudding noises from the other bedroom. Against your better judgment, you decided to walk towards the noise. When you got to the cracked door, you pushed it open slightly as you peeked into the bedroom.

Elias had his head down while his body rocked against the man who was penetrating him from behind. His claws were gripping the sheets as his hair fell over his shoulders. Nyx had his fingers wrapped around the man’s striped tail as he thrusted into him, both men glistening with sweat as they grunt and moaned loudly.

Boaz had his claws grasping Nyx’s face from the side as he pulled him into a wet kiss, saliva streaming down onto the bed as the burmese hybrid whimpered into his partner’s mouth.

You almost gasped when you saw Elias lift his head, a filthy expression on his sweaty face as a pair of your panties hung from his mouth, his fangs poking through the fabric. His bright eyes were almost fully black with the large pupils covering the irises. His right ear was flat as the other stood upright. One of his eyes was slanted as the other was wide.

You sighed as you realized how helpful this knowledge would’ve been before walking into all those awkward moments.

As you read on, the document warned you of any possessive behavior the hybrids might display. It caused you to think back on any moments you might’ve had where the list of behaviors occurred.

You had just gotten home from the bar, something you don’t normally do unless it’s the weekend. When your coworker asked if you wanted to go after work, you figured that it couldn’t hurt, as you were feeling a bit more energized that day. You had stayed longer than planned as you got tipsy and a little crossed from the blunt you shared.

When you got home, you were surprised to see the three hybrids sitting on the sofa, awake. The atmosphere of the room was suffocating as you stumbled in, shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Hey guys,” you slurred, kicking your shoes off before you started walking to your bedroom. Before you could make it, a hand snatched you back, claws piercing the skin of your arm.

“Where the fuck were you?” Boaz growled as he sniffed you. “And why do you smell like that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to yank your arm out of his tight grip, to no avail.

“The bar,” you respond with confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you’d be gone for that long?” Elias said as he walked up to your side, grasping your jaw as he forced you to eye his sharp gaze.

“Woah, what the hell? I already texted you guys that I was going out after work. Chill out,” you hissed, pulling your face from his claws as Nyx walked to the other side of you.

“You didn’t tell us where or for how long. That’s not fucking okay, Y/n. Did you even think about how that would make us feel?” Nyx spat angrily.

You noticed that all of their tails were thrashing behind them as their ears were flat against their heads. You could feel the tension rising as they glared at you, eyes narrowed sharply as they looked as though they wanted to attack.

“Hold up. Who the hell do you guys think you are to question me? In my apartment?” you questioned angrily as you grabbed Boaz’s hand to pry his fingers off your arm.

It worked only until he replaced his hand on your neck and pulled you almost nose-to-nose, the expression on his face growing more feral by the second. You felt your heartbeat accelerate as you could see the pupils in his eyes growing.

“I don’t like your tone, Y/n. Who the fuck do you think you’re questioning?” He hissed, his voice eerily calm.

You could feel your feet slightly lift from the floor as you balanced yourself on the tip of your toes. You could feel the sweat beading against your skin as three pairs of eyes bore into you.

That was not an enjoyable moment at all. You felt your skin crawl at the memory. You remember the night ending with him releasing you before you rushed to your room. You couldn’t stop the tears as you had never been handled like that before.

You remembered Elias and Nyx sneaking into your room that night as they held you and whispered how much they cared about you and why they reacted the way they did. You remember shifting your position and eyeing Boaz, who stood at the doorway with his arms crossed and a softer, but stern gaze on his face. None of them apologized, but they did purr and nuzzle into your neck.

It was a very weird moment, and you still don’t know what to make of it.

Another month has passed since you had read the manual. Their behavior has still been weird, but not as bad as before. You had a talk with them about their heats and told them to start keeping the door to their bedroom locked. You had also gotten them some supplies such as lube, condoms, and any other safety products to make it all easier.

You had even talked to them about the possessive behavior, and the conversation seemed to have gone well. So one night, you decided to invite a friend from work over. You just wanted to hang out, but because you had lacked human interaction for a long time, both of you ended up making out.

You weren't planning to go any further, but you had just really enjoyed the way the man's lips felt against yours, as well as the caresses on your back. It was gentle, soft, and mesmerizing. He was gorgeous anyway, so it worked out.

Unfortunately, the door to your bedroom slammed open, and the hybrids stomped in as Boaz headed straight for the human male. He snatched him from the shirt and dragged him off the bed before landing a punch on his face. You scream as Nyx pinned your arms down while Elias started stomping the guy’s stomach.

They continued to beat the man as crimson gushed from his skin, gurgling on his own blood and saliva as Elias dug his claws into the man’s ribs and ripped apart his torso. You gasp loudly, sitting up before Nyx climbed on top of you and pinned you down again. His hands grasped your face as you grabbed his shoulders, attempting to push him off.

“They’re killing him! They’re fucking killing him! N—Nyx, stop them!” You scream as he uses a palm to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh. It’s going to be over soon,” he spoke softly as warm tears streamed down your face. Your screams are muffled behind his hand as you hear the slashing and squelching of the man’s guts being yanked out of him.

Elias and Boaz are completely feral as they tear apart the human. Blood has splattered all over their face and naked torsos. They don’t stop, even when the man is completely still and any sign of light disappears from his eyes.

The man’s mouth hangs open as his eyes are rolled into the back of his head.

Although the hybrid in front of you is the calmest, you can see the pupils that have dilated as he also gives you a feral expression.

“You’re gonna be okay, Y/n. O—our last owner didn’t make it because he didn’t behave so you just have to relax and listen to us, alright? H—he used us and tricked us and—-we actually really, really love you and don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered with his forehead against yours as you continued to thrash under him.

Nyx is pulled back by the shoulder as Boaz grasps your face and tugged you forward.

“I’ll hurt you if you scream so stop it,” he says, using an arm to rub against his mouth as the blood smears.

“Relax.”

Your hyperventilation slows into quiet pants as you attempt to calm down so as to not get killed. You feel exposed as all three pairs of eyes stare into you when Elias stands to the side of the bed. They’re all surrounding you and it’s suffocating.

“Good,” he begins.

“B—Boaz, please. I—I,” your hands shake against the claws holding your face as you tug them. “I—can’t—,” you are breathless. You can’t breathe.

“Hey, we’re going to take care of the body, okay? But I need you to relax for me. Breathe,” he says.

“I'm going to be honest with you. When I saw his hands on you, it really made me want to kill you,” he said. Your face morphed as you sobbed. “Relax,” you complied as you focused on his green eyes.

“I realize that you had no fucking idea what you were doing. You thought that it was okay, and it's our fault for not telling you before. Now you know that you belong to us. You can't bring anyone home, and you definitely can't touch anyone else, yeah? You know that, right?” Boaz questioned you.

You don't agree with the conditions. You feel stupid for believing them when you had the talk about possessive behavior. You didn't realize how deep they were. The fact that something like this has happened before with their past owner makes you fearful for your life, especially since they killed him. You are hysterical and can't really think straight.

“I—I can’t—I don’t—,” you try so hard to catch your breath but you can’t stop panting.

A hand on your shoulder caused your body to jolt as you turned to the culprit.

“Hey,” Elias leaned in as he purred, his bloody face smearing the substance against your shoulder as he nuzzled against you. “Let’s go to another room while Boaz and Nyx clean the mess up.”

“Hey, why do I have to clean it up when you were one of the ones to kill him?” Nyx pouts.

“T’s not the time, Nyx. Let’s hurry up so we can go to bed.”

“B—but the b—body? How are you gonna—?” you ask, worried that you might get blamed for your hybrids’ actions.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve killed more people than you think and nobody ever found out that it was us,” Elias smiled. “Let’s go,” he says before pushing you off the bed.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to control myself,” Elias whispered against your ear as he held your naked body against his bloody torso.

The steam of the shower is suffocating along with the lack of space between both of you as the warm water rinses you both. You feel the lump in your throat as you could feel the hard structure against your bottom.

His tail hangs low as his ears face forward. His wet hair drapes over his shoulders as he nuzzles your neck.

“Would you let me in?” He questioned, his voice soft.

“Do I even have a choice?” You question with fear laced in your tone. He chuckled in response.

“I guess not,” he said.

[mappedfantasy]

> wash me clean again

summary: vessel is far too exhausted to wash off his own body paint, so you help him. pairing: vessel x gn!reader warnings/tags: sleepy!vessel, roommate!vessel, bf!vessel, clingy!vessel, use of petnames (darling, babe), established relationship, showering together, size difference, praise, touch starvation, biting as a love language, begging, making out, non-sexual intimacy, slightly suggestive (if you want to view it that way), reader heavy dialogue. word count: 1.1k a/n: read this fic by @badomensgoodomens the other day and felt inspired to write something of my own based on the same concept. thank you for making it, very sweet, loved it <3

ao3 link

You hear Vessel faintly calling for you from the bathroom. 

“Darling?”

You push the bathroom door open to find him sitting down in the bathtub with the shower running. Your heart crumples in your chest at the sight of him. Poor thing. It only worsens when he lifts his head, puppy-dog eyes catching yours as if to plead. He looks fucking exhausted.

“Darling, can you help me?” he asks, voice at almost the same volume with the water, lowering for the sake of saving whatever energy he can.

This is when you notice that the washcloth in his hand is stained gray, and that his body paint has low effort scrubbing streaks. 

“Yeah.” You drop down to a squat at the side of the tub, reaching for the washcloth from his hands. 

He snatches it away, low in attempt. “You’ll get the floor wet.” God, he’s nearly whining. You catch a glimpse of a frowned pout on his lips. 

You push yourself, hands on your knees, into a standing position. You begin to slip off your clothes, discarding them into a pile on the floor. A hand slides the shower curtain over even more so than it was open before, like that wasn’t getting the floor wet. 

“Vess, let me help you up,” you tell him gently, offering a hand down for him to take.

And he does. He takes your hand in his, becoming easily engulfed by the size difference of you two. He gets to his feet with a small stumble. Being this wrecked surely was making his head foggy, maybe enough to spin. You slip in, in front of him, closing the curtain behind you.

“That’s it.” You guide his hand to your shoulder, to keep him steady. He keeps the other on the shower wall after handing you the washcloth finally. 

You begin to wash his stomach. The touch is full of love despite the pressure you have to put down to get the paint to come off. 

“Are you really tired, hm?” You ask him, flickering your eyes up for a second to try at meeting his. 

But his eyes are closed, trying to get himself through this from what it seems. “Mhm…” he gets out. It’s muddled and taut. 

Moving upwards his chest, you wash out a spot enough to plant a kiss in, then change to a graze of a bite that was stronger resemblance to your teeth scraping against his skin. He groans out quietly, barely there at all. 

“Can you do that again?” He asks you. You both knew you could never say no to him. 

His stomach and chest have been stripped clean of black, remaining only his shoulders and neck. You apply more soap to these areas since it had run mighty thin from the other scrubbing. Exposing the pale skin of his shoulder under the dark makeup, you take a bite of him. Harder this time. By now, you knew he had a little thing for biting, was a love language to him. Vessel needed it. You feel a shiver shock through him. You land another nip onto his neck where you have to stand on your tiptoes to reach, lurching him down by the smallest hint. 

Vessel’s body slouches against yours, his back hunches over due to the height difference between the both of you. His cheek smooshes into your shoulder and his slickened skin slides along yours to rest his nose in the cranny where your neck and shoulder meet. You feel him huff subhumanly. His arms dangle beside him which almost brush your body. And one of your arms is wrapped around his lower back while the other gently washes at his sides to get rid of any residue paint there. His arms are slow in movement as they come around your back, resting low there, and gently pushing you closer to him. You use your nails just barely on his back, causing a low groan to come from Vessel’s mouth. 

“Fuck…” he drags the word out low, “that feels good.” He’s hushed, almost at a whisper if his voice wasn’t thick on getting those words out. 

Your mind can’t go there, and so, you won’t. You want to take care of him, softly. He deserves it firstly, but secondly, he also needs it. 

Instead, you hum in an agreeing tone. “Yeah?” Your nails go along his back, back and forth laggardly. “That feel good, babe?” You hope he picks up on the smile in your voice.

He grunts and you feel the brush of air on your neck again. You let out a small laugh, dry one. 

“Good,” you say.  

You throw the blackened cloth into the corner of the tub, bringing Vessel close to you in a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” you tell him. His body sinks further into yours, his weight becoming more of your responsibility than his. His lips press unhurried kisses into this side of your neck and down your shoulder. Retracting back, up, into his normal stance as much as he can bear with his fatigue. 

And you start to move back too. He needed to get into your bed as soon as he could get there. But he stops you. 

“One kiss. Please?” 

His face is brought down to you by your hands cupping his jaw, placing a tender kiss to his lips. They work slowly with yours as he makes another whine. You try to match the noise, licking into his mouth one good time before pulling away fully. 

“So lucky to have you,” you murmur to him.

Vessel looks at you with those same pleading eyes. “Can I have another? Just this one. Please?” 

Your lips catch his for one last kiss, relishing this one, him licking into your mouth this time. Whine.

That’s where you step away and cut off the water. You step out of the tub. You turn to hold your hand out for him to latch onto. And he does. You help him to not slip, his brain was not functioning at all if it was in any shape to work before. The two of you share a towel, not being arsed to use two separate ones. He nudges his head into your hand when you began to towel dry his hair. 

“How about we get you to bed, hmm?” You ask, tossing the towel somewhere into the bathroom. That, along with finding clothes, was a worry for a different time. Later, after Vessel had been taken care of, after he got some sleep.

He trails behind you like a lost pup. “Please.”

[soulofapatrick]

“Patience, love.” - Azriel x female reader

Summary: Azriel gets home from being away and has even more work to do before he can tend to you

Words: 3.2K

Warnings: Smut; cockwarming

Notes: Two Azriel stories in one day?!

Y/N's POV

I sit with Nesta and Cassian in the cozy living room of the House of Wind, the warm glow of the fire crackling in the hearth casting flickering shadows along the walls. Nesta’s sharp wit and Cassian’s booming laughter fill the space, their playful banter about training sessions and Illyrian wingspans enough to keep me entertained—for the most part.

But even as I smile along with them, my mind is elsewhere, thoughts drifting to him. To Azriel. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, his absence leaving a hollow ache in my chest. I’m just about to add something to Nesta’s argument when I feel it—soft at first, like the brush of a feather. Then, stronger. A pull. A familiar, soul-deep tug on the bond that links me to him, wrapping itself around my heart with a tender, insistent pulse. Azriel.

I sit up a little straighter, the change in me instantaneous. It's like a jolt of life surges through me, a spark that had been dulled in his absence now reigniting with full force. My heart skips a beat, joy swelling so suddenly inside me that I can’t stop the bright, eager smile that stretches across my face. The world seems to sharpen, colours brighter, sounds clearer, as if everything in the room has come into focus with that single, unmistakable tug. He’s home.

Cassian’s eyes catch mine, the knowing look in them unmistakable. He’s seen this before. I don’t even need to say it—he knows. He leans back, crossing his arms with a teasing smirk as if to say, Go on, then. Nesta pauses mid-sentence, her expression confused as she glances between us.

I can barely sit still, the urge to move, to find him, overwhelming. “I—” I stammer, already rising from my seat. “I need to go.” My voice is breathless, and I can feel the flush rising in my cheeks, the warmth of excitement spreading through my entire body.

Nesta arches a brow, clearly about to ask why I’m leaving so suddenly, but I’m too far gone, my mind entirely focused on the one person I need to see. “Sorry!” I call over my shoulder as I dash from the room, leaving the half-finished conversation behind. I can feel Nesta’s confusion lingering in the air, but it doesn’t matter—not when he’s home.

My feet pound against the floor as I rush down the hall, my heart thudding in sync with the bond’s steady pull. The corridors of the House blur around me as I pick up my pace, the excitement bubbling inside me, spilling over. Every step brings me closer to him—closer to Azriel.

I can almost feel his presence now, that comforting, grounding sensation that only he brings, and a desperate need blooms in my chest. I need to see him, feel his arms around me, the cool touch of his shadows curling around my skin. I can barely breathe with how badly I want him right now.

Rounding the corner, I nearly skid to a halt in front of our door, my breath coming fast, my fingers trembling as they close around the handle. Azriel’s home—the thought pounds through my veins, dizzying me with anticipation, and I push the door open, stepping into the room where I know he waits.

As I step into the room, my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. Azriel is seated at his desk, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm light over the planes of his face, making him look almost ethereal. He looks up as the door clicks shut behind me, and the second our eyes meet, a soft smile tugs at his lips—those rare dimples appearing, the ones that never fail to send my heart racing.

His hazel eyes, a swirl of green and gold, brighten at the sight of me, that unreadable mask he so often wears slipping just enough for me to see the affection there. His dark hair, tousled from the day, falls slightly into his face, and he brushes it aside with a scarred hand. The elegant planes of his face are impossibly beautiful, his golden-brown skin glowing in the dim light. Broad shoulders and powerful muscles, shaped by centuries of Illyrian training, are framed by his massive wings, their black membranes stretching behind him. He looks like a warrior, a king—yet, in this moment, he is simply mine.

Azriel shuffles his chair back without a word, the soft sound of the wood scraping the floor echoing in the silence between us. His eyes never leave mine, and with that same gentle smile, he opens his arms slightly in invitation. It’s all I need. I cross the room in a few quick strides, my body practically vibrating with the need to feel him, to touch him after so many days apart.

Without hesitation, I straddle his lap, feeling his strong thighs beneath me, his scarred hands immediately gripping my hips to steady me as I settle against him. I giggle, breathless, and his smile widens, a soft laugh escaping his lips—a sound I rarely hear, but one that fills me with warmth. His fingers dig into my hips just enough to keep me from falling off the chair, and I feel the tension drain from my body the moment his warmth seeps into me.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, his breath fanning across my skin. And then, he pulls me closer, drawing me into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around me as if he never wants to let go. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, breathing me in, his nose brushing against my skin as his wings curl slightly inward, forming a protective cocoon around us.

I melt into him, my hands sliding up his strong shoulders and into his hair as I cling to him. For a moment, we stay like this—wrapped in each other, feeling the bond between us hum with contentment, with home. But then, his lips move against my neck, the faintest brush of his mouth against my skin, and my breath hitches. Slowly, he lifts his head, his eyes darkened with something deeper now, and before I can say a word, he kisses me.

The moment our lips meet, everything else fades away. His kiss is soft at first, gentle, like he’s savouring the taste of me after being apart for so long. I can taste the faint hint of mint on his lips, feel the warmth of him seeping into me, the smooth press of his lips against mine as they move slowly, sweetly. His hands slide up my back, pulling me impossibly closer, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath my chest, grounding me in this moment.

But the kiss shifts. Slowly at first, then with a growing urgency. The bond between us tightens, a sharp pull, and suddenly, I’m not just kissing him—I’m devouring him. I grip his hair tighter, my nails scraping lightly against his scalp as I deepen the kiss, feeling his responding growl vibrate through my chest. Azriel’s hands tighten their grip on my hips, pulling me flush against him, and I feel the heat of him, the strength of his body beneath me. My heart races, and all the want and need I’ve been holding back during his absence surges forward in a tidal wave of longing.

His tongue brushes against mine, and the taste of him—so familiar, so intoxicating—makes me dizzy. The kiss becomes desperate, consuming, the bond between us sparking like wildfire, reigniting that primal pull I feel whenever I’m near him. I need him now. The warmth in my chest turns into a burning ache, and my hands slip down to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as I press myself even closer, as though I can’t get enough of him.

He growls softly against my lips, his wings flaring behind him as the bond crackles between us, both of us teetering on the edge of control. Azriel breaks the kiss just long enough to meet my gaze, his hazel eyes now dark with desire. His voice is rough when he speaks, barely a whisper. “I missed you.”

Before I can respond, his lips crash into mine again, harder this time, the kiss filled with all the pent-up need, the longing, the hunger. The bond pulses, wild and insistent, and I can feel the desire coil low in my belly, a deep, aching need that only he can fill. I need him now—no, I need him now, the mating bond pulling us both into a frenzy of want, of overwhelming, all-consuming need.

Without a word, one hand finds my panties, fingers finding their way to my already wet core, a proud smirk gracing that beautiful face, “All for me?” 

I’m nodding almost so hard I’m sure I’ll get whiplash, an ache deep inside of me needing Azriel now.  My hips jerk down, trying to get him to sleep one into my aching heat but he clicks his tongue softly, his scarred fingers exploring, tracing a line from my extract up to my clit, spreading my ever-growing arousal. He moves a hand up to my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze when he draws a tight circle over my clit, watching the way my breath catching in my throat and my brain seems to turn to mush. 

Azriel. Need. Need now. Azriel. Az-

Before I can finish the thought, his voice cuts through the haze of desire clouding my mind, sharp and teasing, yet so achingly calm. “Now now, I still have work to do before we can play.”

His words snap like a whip, jerking me out of the intoxicating fog of want, and I freeze, the fire in my veins suddenly roaring hotter, fiercer. I pull back just enough to meet his eyes, my breath ragged and shallow, my pulse thundering in my ears. He’s smiling—smirking—as if he doesn’t feel the same sharp, clawing need that’s twisting inside me.

I can feel the heat pooling low in my belly, my skin buzzing, a desperate ache between my thighs that makes it hard to think, hard to breathe. The bond pulses violently with my desire, a tidal wave of need that crashes into him, and I know—I know—he can feel it. The raw hunger, the gnawing need to be closer, to tear down the walls of restraint he’s so carefully built between us. But his words hang in the air, like cold water dousing the inferno inside me.

I bare my teeth, frustration bubbling over as a low growl rumbles from my chest. Anguish grips me, a burning, agonising frustration that has me trembling in his lap. I can’t stand it—the thought of being denied him, even for a moment longer. My hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt as I press myself closer, my body desperate for the touch of his skin, the feel of him inside me.

“Azriel,” I hiss, the plea tangled with raw need, my voice almost unrecognisable. “I can’t—” I can’t finish the sentence, too overwhelmed, too consumed by the sharp, aching pull of the bond, the primal need coursing through me like a live wire. My entire body is screaming for him, and the restraint he’s showing, the patience in his voice, only fans the flames of my frustration.

But he just chuckles. That low, rumbling sound of amusement spilling from his lips, as if my need, my desperation, is nothing more than a game to him. It ignites something in me, the flicker of anger sharpening my need into something almost unbearable. His eyes—those beautiful hazel eyes, darkened with lust—gleam with equal want, with the same hunger I feel. But beneath it, there’s control. A maddening, ironclad self-restraint that makes his jaw click as he holds back

His hands go back to my hips, resting firmly on them, his grip tightening just enough that I can feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the barely-contained desire pulsing through him. His wings twitch behind him, his body taut with the effort to hold himself in check. I can see it—the way his eyes darken with every breath I take, the way his gaze drops to my lips, lingering there as though he’s seconds away from devouring me.

He wants this. He wants me, just as badly, just as fiercely—but he’s holding back, holding himself at bay with that damnable, infuriating control. His teeth grind together, his jaw clenching as he restrains the need that’s clearly mirrored in my own. The way his hands tighten on my hips, the way his wings flex—it all tells me he’s fighting against the same pull, the same hunger.

“Azriel,” I growl again, my voice rough and edged with desperation. I lean in, pressing my lips to his ear, my breath hot against his skin. “You’re killing me.”

He chuckles again, but it’s strained now, his control wavering for just a heartbeat. His voice is rougher this time, the tension evident as he murmurs, “Patience, love.”

But patience is the last thing I have. I can feel the bond vibrating between us, the wild, untamed magic of it pulling us both into the whirlwind of lust and need. It’s a cruel thing, to feel the burning want in every fibre of my being and know he’s holding himself back from giving in, from letting go. And it’s driving me mad.

His eyes flicker with something dark and dangerous as he watches the frustration in my gaze, the primal need that has me trembling in his lap. His jaw ticks again, that battle for control raging within him, and I can see it—the moment he almost breaks, the moment the restraint frays and the want claws its way to the surface.

And gods, I want him to break. 

“Stand up.” He suddenly demands and I find myself doing so, watching, practically drooling as he sheds some of his armour. My thighs clenching together as his hands move to his belt, unbuckling it, fingers pulling the zipper of his pants down and I’m swallowing hard at the tent. 

How big he is never fails to make me worry that he won’t fit me despite us being made for each other. Azriel’s glancing up at me as he frees himself, stroking a hand up and down his weeping length and I can’t decide what I want in me more. Those deft fingers or his throbbing dick, both making me almost fall to my knees in front of him from wanting something. Anything.

“Sit.” Azriel’s voice is choked and rough as he reaches forwards and grips my hips, helping me straddle his waist again. My thighs feel shaky already as he lines himself up for me to sink down easily, our bodies molding to each others like they had never been apart before.I go to raise myself up, desperate to move, to ease the overwhelming tension pulsing through my body, but Azriel’s low, deep growl reverberates through his chest, rumbling against my skin. His scarred hands tighten their grip on my hips, stilling me with a firm, unyielding hold. “Patience, love,” he murmurs, his voice a silken warning, his restraint absolute.

“Az—” I begin, but his name falls short, caught in my throat, the word turning into a helpless sigh.

Oh, angel. This man is going to be the fucking death of me.

I know I make a muffled sound of anguish, my lips pressing against his shoulder, my body trembling from how close I am to what I so desperately need. But he won’t let me move. He won’t. Despite being buried inside me, to the absolute hilt, filling me fuller than I ever thought possible, he keeps me still, locked in place, holding back the release we both crave.

My nails dig into the hard muscles of his shoulders, almost painfully, as I fight the primal instinct to rock my hips, to seek that friction I so desperately need. But Azriel—damn him—keeps me pinned against him, his grip firm, unyielding. Every muscle in my body is taut with the tension of it, the ache between my legs a sharp, throbbing pulse that borders on torture.

I burrow my face into the crook of his neck, desperate for some form of release, and without thinking, I bite down on the soft skin there—almost too hard. His breath hitches, sharp and sudden, his body going rigid beneath me for a moment, and I feel a dark sense of satisfaction knowing I got a reaction out of him. His jaw clenches, the want flaring hot in his eyes, but he doesn’t give in.

Instead, his hand leaves my hip, moving slowly, deliberately, to card through my hair. His fingers tangle in the strands, a soft, rhythmic motion that sends an unexpected wave of calm washing over me. I hadn’t realised how badly I needed that gentle touch in the midst of all this aching, burning need. His thumb brushes the side of my temple, and despite the insistent pulse between my thighs, the raw desire clawing at my every nerve, I feel a strange, soothing warmth spread through me.

His hand strokes through my hair again, and again. It’s maddening, the way he can have me teetering on the edge of ecstasy and still manage to lull me into this state of almost… blissful surrender. As if his touch alone could make me forget the ache in my body, the way he’s buried so deep inside me yet keeping me utterly still, trapped in this agonising limbo.

I bite him again, though softer this time, trying to fight the pull of drowsiness creeping up on me. But Azriel’s hand continues to pet my hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort I can barely make out over the sound of my own ragged breaths. Somehow, impossibly, the gentle motion is lulling me, sending me into a state of slumber despite the sharp ache between my legs, the unfulfilled need twisting deep inside me.

I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to drift away. But I can feel my body surrendering, my eyelids growing heavier with every soft stroke of his fingers. It’s as if my exhaustion is finally catching up with me, and though the desperation still burns hot in my veins, I know he won’t leave me like this for long.

Azriel’s hand stills for a moment, his lips brushing against the crown of my head as he whispers, “Rest, love. I’ll wake you when I’m ready.”

When he’s ready. The thought should frustrate me, should make me want to push away, to demand more—but there’s something in the way he says it. A promise. And I know—I know—that when he’s ready, he’ll give me everything. Everything we both need.

So I let myself drift, trusting him to wake me when the time comes, trusting him to fulfill that promise. The ache is still there, pulsing between my thighs, but for now… for now, I let the exhaustion win.

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

[yxtubers]

✮ 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

⤷ spencer agnew x reader

🗒️ summary: while attending birthday drinks with your best friend, spencer, your night turns upside down as a whirlwind of emotions arise

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mild jealousy, fluff

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

IT’S A WELL known fact that LA is expensive. Pushing aside the obvious things like rent and utilities, the cost of transportation, never-mind gas, was impossible to budget for unless you had a stable job. Which again, in LA, was difficult to find.

You were lucky enough to have landed a great roommate - one that actually cleaned up after himself, never missed rent, and occasionally cooked for the both of you. It helped that you guys had a good friendship. Or that you had a mild crush on him.

Perhaps mild wasn’t the most accurate description. It was more like a soul-crushing, agonizing pang in the heart whenever you saw him.

Feelings aside, you did genuinely appreciate him. Your relationship only grew stronger by the day, and after about 7 months of co-existing together, it was safe to say that he had quickly become one of your best friends in LA. It was hard to find real connections out there, and Spencer was the one soul you trusted the most (excluding your home-town friends).

You had heard of his co-workers over at Smosh. In fact, you felt as if you had already met them with how many videos you watched. Truthfully, you only really knew who Smosh was because of Spencer, but over time you had grown to really enjoy their content.

This fact alone is what made Spencer so sure you’d say yes to his invitation for Angela’s birthday drinks.

He had assured you that she was more than okay with you attending, even going as far as to say that she had asked him to bring you. Why? You had no clue. Either way you were flattered, and didn’t have heart to say no to Spencer. He had been wanting you to meet them for a while now, and what better occasion than one where you’d have some liquid luck with you.

After spending an afternoon planning an appropriate outfit for a party in October, you were ready to go. Spencer was good at taking your mind off your nerves. He always was. Something about the way he knew how to keep you at ease made your heart flutter, and you were grateful for his distractions as you two sat in the taxi.

Originally you had wanted to drive. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option as there were no viable parking spaces, and you both wanted to drink. You two weren’t big drinkers, something you both inwardly exhaled at when first moving in with each other - but today was a special event.

“Ready?” he asked, a small smile present on his face.

At your nod, he opened the door, making his way to your side and helping you out of the car. He never usually did that, actually he had never done that at all. You measured it up to just him wanting to make you feel better.

You sighed as you took his hand, linking arms as he began to lead you to the door of the bar. Today was the first time you had worn heels in a while, and as nervous as being so close to Spencer made you, you were glad to have him to hold onto.

“So this is who you won’t shut up about around the office,” came a voice from your left.

Whipping your head around, you were met with a short brunette girl, her hair just above her shoulders. This, you knew, was Angela. The comment seemed to fly over your head - you were preoccupied with making a good impression.

Spencer, however, felt his body grow hot. He gave Angela a warning stare before letting you go so he could introduce you both.

After wishing her a happy birthday and giving her the gift you and Spencer had spent almost an hour picking out, you were led to a large booth towards the end of the building. Pleasantries were exchanged, names were introduced, and finally, many, many hugs later, you were all seated.

You exhaled quietly, trying to seem as calm as possible. Spencer, observant as always, noticed. He scooted his chair closer, offering you a toothy smile before turning away to indulge in conversation. Trying to push down the bubbly feeling in your chest, you joined the group discussion too. Arasha eyed you both up for a moment before smiling and looking at Courtney - but you thought nothing of it. Everybody was close, you assumed they heard some inside joke or something.

A couple of drinks later, and you had grown quite… comfortable. Your shoulder was now pressed against Spencer’s, head rested against his jacket, thighs glued to his as your chair seemingly drifted closer and closer to him. Physical touch was always your love language, and Spencer was well aware of this. This was only heightened when you drank.

“So, are you like… single?” asked Chanse, his eyes flickering between you and your best friend.

You hummed, lifting your head as you smiled back at him. Shrugging, you looked at Spencer briefly before looking away.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Chanse had then replied with a suggestion. He offered to take you out and wingman for you one day. You knew it was mostly just a drunken idea, and you both wouldn’t go through with it, so you just laughed and agreed.

With that, the air seemed to shift.

Conversation and drinks kept flowing yet Spencer seemed to drift further and further away. His eyes held an uncertainty in them that you had never seen before. Nudging his shoulder, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking if he was okay. He gave you a tight lipped smile and nodded.

You held his gaze for a few moments, trying to discern if he was being honest. Usually you could read him easily, but all you saw right now was his big green eyes staring back at you. You never liked the color green much - until you saw his eyes, and suddenly it was the only color you ever wanted to see.

“I’ll be back. Just gonna use the bathroom.”

And with that he was gone. Shaken from your thoughts, you barely had time to respond as he practically escaped to the toilets.

Angela returned with Shayne, a large tray of drinks in hand. She briefly noticed the absence, but said nothing.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Angela asked, snorting a laugh into her drink. She was clearly drunk, but then again, so were you. The only reply you could come up with was a small blush and a quiet ‘bathroom’.

“Ah,” chimed Courtney, “think he got a bit jealous.”

It was your time to snort. “Jealous of what? You guys know Spencer isn’t one for jealousy.”

Courtney raised their eyebrows and took a sip of wine, “I beg to differ.” And that was all they said as she smiled and replied to one of her friend’s questions. Despite the fact that you had no clue what Courtney was talking about, you began to worry. Maybe something really was wrong. It had been a while since Spencer left and he had still not returned.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, excusing yourself and going to find the bathrooms.

Pushing a large wooden door with a ‘WC’ sign, you were met with a white hallway lined with a men and women’s toilet. Leaning against a wall was Spencer, his eyes closed as he rubbed at his temple. You knew your intuition was right - something was wrong.

“Spence!” you said as you shuffled towards him, your heels clacking awkwardly against the tiles.

As soon as you called his name, Spencer realized that he had never heard his name sound so beautiful before. He decided he could listen to you say his name on repeat forever. Although, to him, anything that came out of your mouth was like a calming hymn.

“Hey,” he croaked, an unconvincing smile on his face.

You rested your back against the wall, bumping your shoulder into his. “We’re missing you out there. You okay?”

Turning your head, you caught a frown on his face before he took a deep breath. Never in your life had you seen him look so… defeated. It was the best word you could use to describe his expression - it almost looked like he was fighting himself in his mind.

“Yeah… yeah. ‘M good.”

“Spencer,” you spoke, “I think you underestimate how well I know you. What’s up?”

And there it was again. Spencer felt a painful tug at his heartstrings as he listened to his name on your lips. He couldn’t keep it in anymore. He was tired of pretending like you talking about seeing other guys didn’t bother him - like you seeing him as just a friend was okay.

In a moment of concern, you grasped your best friend’s hand. “Talk to me,” you urged, voice quiet and soft.

“You know I love you, right?”

The bluntness surprised you, and you blinked at him. Sure, you knew he loved you, he was your best friend. But you had always secretly wished he could love you as more than just a friend.

Smiling, you turned to face him, squeezing his hand. That action alone made Spencer want to run laps. You were driving him insane.

“I know. I love you too, Spence.”

He lifted himself off the wall to face you as well. His head moved from side to side, as if he disagreed with your statement. You only furrowed your eyebrows in response.

Spencer looked down at your joined hands, and he lifted yours up to trace a line from your wrist to your knuckle. “No,” he almost whispered, “I don’t think you love me the same way I love you.”

A small part of your brain wanted to believe that this was a confession. And if you were any more logical and unbiased, you would. Yet you had pushed the thought of Spencer reciprocating your feelings so far away from your mind that now it was hard to see the truth in front of you.

“Spencer, you know I do.”

A sharp intake of break. “No,” he said again, this time way quieter. “If that was the case you wouldn’t be open to getting wing-manned by Chanse.” He said it as more of a joke, a sad chuckle leaving him.

Opening and closing your mouth, you tried to find a reply. Unfortunately the only one you could manage was: “What?”

Your skin tingled as his fingers continued to trailed his fingertips across the back of your hand. Your body instinctively reacted to his touch, fingers twitching under his warm palm.

“I don’t know how else to say it. I love you - what don’t you understand?”

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. Excitement coursed through your veins and an involuntary giggle escaped you. “Spencer,” you said, a large smile on your face. “I said I love you too - what don’t you understand?”

It all happened so quickly. He looked up, your eyes locked, and like the pull of a magnet, you both leaned in. Kissing your best friend felt less weird than you thought it would - it felt right.

His hand came to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your cheekbone. You pulled back slightly to breathe, but you needed him more than oxygen, so you clasped his denim jacket in your hands as you came back for more. He grunted in surprise but reciprocated immediately.

“Hey, are you guys oka- Oh!”

Jumping back, you both looked back to Courtney, who was smiling widely at the end of the hallway.

“Sorry. I’ll leave you guys to it,” they said with a giggle.

Letting out a laugh, you rested your forehead against Spencer’s shoulder. The vibration of his chest resonated through your head, and it only made you laugh more. His hand came to hug you, keeping you close. You lifted your head. With a huge grin on your face, you looped your arms around the back of his neck.

“I think Angela will be more happy about this than her actual birthday gift,” he said.

But you weren’t thinking about them right now. All that mattered was that you loved Spencer and he loved you back.

And also that Courtney was right. Apparently Spencer does get jealous.

- - -

©𝐲𝐱𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬

[angstywaifu]

Dain "Eyes On Me" Aetos

Summary: After an intense day of training Dain is giving you some one on one training despite not coddling first years. A/N: I never thought I'd see the day I'd be writing Dain smut.... but here we are. Warnings: THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM. DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T READ ONYX STORM. 18+ Minors DNI. Fingering. Oral F receiving. Unprotected Sex.

Masterlist | Links

“Again.” Carr commands, motioning with his hands for me to attack again.

Out of all the changes to our learning, I couldn’t deny this had been my favourite. Well, it was till I manifested a signet and now had to participate. For weeks I had sat in the seats looking down into the wide open area. Watching in awe as everyone used their signets, learning how to use them against each other. It was amazing to watch.

But now I had fire at my disposal, which now deemed me ready to participate in this class. And just my luck, Xaden wasn’t here to teach it. And Carr had told Garrick to step aside. Which I guess made sense as he did teach us how to use our signets. But I much preferred Garrick’s approach to this class than Carr’s. Especially after he told Bodhi to stop messing with peoples signets. Someone was bound to get hurt soon.

Carr had taken a somewhat annoying interest in me due to us having the same signet. He seemed to push me more than others. Expecting me to already be proficient with my signet. Which was a lot to expect from someone whose signet was not even two weeks old.

And now he was putting me up against a third year who had the same signet and was far more adept than I was. We circle each other, eyeing each other off to try find an opening. He steps forward, raising his hands to attack. I panic and stumble back raising my arms to defend myself, a flame barely flickering in my hands.

“Focus. You can’t afford to do this in battle.” Carr snaps at me from where he stands watching us.

I do my best to calm my nerves, raising my hands again. This time a stronger flame coming out, but it’s nothing compared to what my opponent sends me way. A thick stream of fire extends from his hands towards me. A yell escaping my lips as I stumble backwards, tripping over my own feet. Just before it reaches me, the wall of flames disappears as if extinguished. I look up to see a Bodhi my section leader walking over to us as Carr storms over to him.

“You lot need to stop interfering!” He bellows in Bodhi’s face before gesturing to a second year to step onto the mat.

“Then make this safer.” Bodhi snaps back as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“It won’t be safer in the real world. They need to learn here how dangerous it is. If they can’t survive here, then they have no chance out there.” I swear a vein is about to burst in Carr’s neck with how prominent they are.

“She’s a fucking first year.” Another voice adds as they join the conversation. My breath catches in my throat as Dain steps up next to Bodhi. “She’s barely had her signet a week and you’re throwing her up against someone who’s had three years to perfect it.”

“It’s the only way she will learn.” Carr snaps as he turns his attention to Dain who doesn’t even blink an eye.

“I can think of far better and safer ways to teach someone to use their signet than this. Find. Another. Way.” The way Dain’s voice drops as me seeing him in a whole new light.

We’d been friends before he left for the Riders Quadrant. I wasn’t as close to him as Violet, but I knew him well enough. And the man I see is a far cry from the boy who was always so kind and cautious around me. Making sure I was ok and understood the training or lessons we were taught.

Carr just scoffs in his face. “I’d like to see you do a better job.”

Carr pivots, heading back to the mat where the two cadets stand waiting. Dain turns towards me, his features softening as he takes me in.

“You ok?” He asks as he steps over to me.

I left out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding and slowly nod. “Yeah, I’ll be ok.” I tell him.

He smiles at me but a shout pulls our attention back to the mat. Just like before the third year sends a blast of fire towards a shrieking second year who scrambles backwards to get away. And just like before Carr does nothing to intervene as the flames get closer and closer. I cover my mouth as I watch in horror as she screams and drops to her hands and knees, the flames getting within inches of her.

”Wield! Defend yourself!” Is all Carr yells at her, not even trying to stop what’s happening.

She splays her hand wide on the mat and screams. Moments later the colour drains from the mat beneath her, turning it a grey colour. Dain reaches out and grabs me by the upper arms, spinning me around so my back is to the girl as Carr rushes to her.

”Eyes on me.” Dain says as he cradles my head in his hands.

I nod up at him, doing my best to focus on his eyes. But I know her death comes when his hands tense on my face, his whole body going rigid.

The rest of the day goes by with all of us essentially going through the motions. Death was common in the Quadrant. None of us were strangers to it. But having someone turn right in front of us was a different story. Despite that I found myself back and training in the gym with Dain. Today just proved I needed to get stronger. Needed to strengthen my signet. If not, I could become desperate. I groan as I push myself into a seating position on the mat where Dain had thrown me. He’d made it look so easy. The moves almost second nature to him. Which they were. He’d been training his whole life. I had not.

“Come on Y/N, get up and fight me. Use your signet.” He commands, his wingleader tone slipping in.

I force myself to stand, every muscle in my body screaming after flying, signet training and now this. My body feels like it’s about to ignite as it reaches for my power. It’s as if my body knows it’s the only way to defend myself right now.

I shake my head at him. “I can’t.” I tell him, my voice breaking slightly.

“You can. You can do this.” He tells me as he settles into another fighting stance.

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond as he charges at me. I instinctively pull at my power, flames rising in my hands in an effort to shield myself. Dain dodges it with ease, side stepping the small wall of flame I’ve conjured. I turn and aim the wall at him again but falter when I watch him panic slightly and stumble back.

“Shit, I’m sorry!” I cry out as I rush to him.

But Dain is still in training mode, using my lowered defences to rush at me, tackling me to the mat, pinning me to the mat.

”Don’t be sorry. This is exactly why we’re here.” He tells me gruffly as he looms over me.

”But I’m going to hurt you.” I get out between ragged breaths.

He raise a hand to cup my cheek, a smirk curling at the edges of Dain’s lips, his soft brown eyes flashing with something I can’t quite put my finger on.

”Gods, don’t I know it.” He murmurs as he lowers his face to mine.

I gasp as his lips brush softly over mine, as if he’s testing my reaction. When I don’t pull back he slowly presses his lips to mine. My heart starts hammering in my chest as I tilt my head, deepening the kiss as we both lean into it. I feel Dain’s breath hitch as I slide my hands up his chest, fisting the material of his shirt in my hands. His hands skim down my body, his fingers skimming along my waist causing me to shiver at his touch. He kisses my cheeks and tilt before moving to my neck, a moan escaping my lips before I can stop it. But that’s all it takes to break whatever restraint Dain still had. His hands tighten on my waist as he flips us over so I’m straddling his hips as he looks up at me.

I don’t know what spurs me to do it, here in the gym of all places where anyone could walk in, but I grip the bottom of my shirt in my hands, yanking the material over my head and discarding it next to us. Dain clearly doesn’t care where we are either as he sits up, pulling his own shirt from his body. My hands instantly fall to his chest, tracing over the defined lines of muscle like I’ve always wanted to. Dain’s body shivers at my touch, his muscles tensing as I trace over them. I gasp as Dain’s hands trace up and down my sides as he leans in kisses along my shoulder.

“Gods you’re beautiful.” He murmurs against my neck as his hands grip and knead my hips.

I blush at his words as he leans back into kiss me, feeling him smile into the kiss, the movement casing my lips to part for him. My fingers tangle in his hair as of tongues meet in a slow intoxicating rhythm, trying to pull him closer. I needed more of him. Needed him to consume me. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me to him as he leans forward, lowering me back down to lay on the mat.

He breaks the kiss to trace his hands down my chest and stomach, coming to rest on the waist band of the training pants I’d worn. He hesitates, his brown eyes staring into me. I nod at him, knowing he’s waiting for permission to go further. And I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. He hooks his fingers into the waist band, yanking my pants and underwear off in one smooth movement, and I was very glad I’d gone without my boots for our training session tonight.

I go to push up, reaching for the waistband of his own pants, put he pushes me back down to the mat. “Not yet.” He tells me as he leans over me.

I places a quick kiss to my mouth before he kisses down my neck, to my chest and then slowly down my stomach. I go to clamp my legs shut as I realise where his heading, but his hands fly out, keeping my legs open for him as he moves his lips further and further down. I gasp, neck arching off the mat as he places the first kiss between my legs.

“Oh gods.” I cry out as one of my hands grips his hair tightly, causing him to groan against me which elects another moan from me.

My whole body arches off the mat as his tongue swirls around my clit before dipping lower. His mouth alternating between licking and sucking. His movements are slow but deliberate, building the tension in me with each pass of his tongue. I gasp as I feel him push a finger inside me, my eyes squeezing shut as he adds another and thrusts them in and out, curling them with every other thrust.

I whimper as he removes them from me, but look up to see standing above me, quickly shoving down his pants. This was so unlike him. To give into the moment, to not care that anyone could walk in at any moment. But I wasn’t mad. I wanted Dain. And he wanted me. Maybe not forever, but right now I didn’t care. We were in the middle of a war essentially, none of us knowing if today would be our last.

I can help but trail my eyes over him as he kneels back between my legs, hovering over me as he places his hands either side of my head. I feel him prod against my entrance, sucking in a sharp breath knowing what’s coming. Dain isn’t my first, but something about this feels different. More intimate than any other time.

He rolls his hips, the tip entering me as we both groan at the feeling. He pushes further in, my body arching off the mat as I squeeze my eyes shut as pleasure washes over me, Dain feeling like he was made to be inside me. He slowly thrusts his hips, working his length in till he’s fully inside me. His hand caresses my cheek, my eyes fluttering open to meet his.

”Eyes on me. Think you can do that?” He commands.

I smile and nod up at him before he rolls his hips into mine, my fingers digging into his forearms as I try to anchor myself. He starts off slow, but it doesn’t take long for Dain to pick up his pace, hips sips slamming into mine. I have to force myself to keep my eyes open, especially when he hits that perfect spot inside me. Fuck, it felt so good. I moan loudly when he shifts my legs to lay against his chest, raising my hips off the mat slightly, causing him to hit an angle he wasn’t hitting before. I can’t help it when my eyes fluttering shut as I arch off the mat.

“What did I say Y/N?” Dain practically growls, causing my eyes to fly open. A new wave of pleasure coursing through me at the look in his eyes.

“Eyes. On. You.” I manage to gasp out as he thrusts harder.

”Good girl.” He praises as he leans forward and wraps his arms around me.

“F-fuck.” I moan out as he shifts us so I’m sitting in his lap, chest flush against his as I rest my forehead against his.

My nails dig into this shoulder as I start trembling in his arms, my body wanting to tip over the edge and come undone. So close. I’m so gods damn close. Shit. I wasn’t going to last much longer like this. This angle was easily going to be my undoing. And by how heavy Dain’s breathing has gotten I’m sure he wont be far behind me. I wind my fingers into his hair, pulling on his brown curls earning my a moan that rumbles in his chest, his eyes darkening as they look up at me. I meet Dain thrust for thrust, both of us panting heavily as we get closer and closer. I cry out as I tip over the edge, finally breaking eye contact with Dain as I tilt my head back as I shake and tremble in his arms. His cradles my head against his neck, I feel like the world is flipping as he places me back down on the mat. Dain’s thrust turn erratic as he slams into me, prolonging my orgasm as he chases his end. His hips falter as he groans, falling forward as he catches himself with his hands placed either side of my head. The only sound in the room is both of us panting as we catch our breath. Neither of us willing to break the silence of what’s just happened.

Finally Dain moves, rolling to the side as he pulls me with him an cradles me in his arms. His fingers lazily tracing patterns up and down my side as we come down from our highs. I turn towards him to say something, but the sound of the door jiggling has us both sitting up right. I know we didn’t lock that door when we came in, meaning in our rush Dain must have managed to lock it with lesser magic. But that means whoever is on the other side can open it with that to. Dain rushes up grabbing our scattered clothes before pulling me up as we rush over to them small gym attached to the gym just as the doors open.

”That was close.” I gasp out as he hands me my clothes.

”Too close. We’re never doing that here again.” He informs me as he hastily pulls on his pants.

”You plan on there being more?” I ask, trying to hide my smirk as I turn to pull on my own clothes.

”Many. Just not that public. Now hurry up before they walk in on you half dressed.” He tells me, his Wingleader voice slipping back in.

[linddzz]

Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

[ri-writes-if]

Intro

LINK | 5 chapters, ~252K words (last updated 17/11/24)

FOUND A TYPO/BUG? | PATREON | PUBLIC BONUS CONTENT | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST | PROGRESS UPDATES | SNEAK PEEKS | SNIPPETS

In the underworld kingdom, where demons fight for survival against the abyssal monsters, you are just an Oracle. In the distant past the Oracles were at the top of the demonic hierarchy, but those golden days are long gone. You did what you were most afraid to do and now sit under arrest in the royal palace.

When the Abyss sends you a vision of a terrible disaster that will happen in the future, you make an inevitable “deal” with the Sovereign to try to change the future and improve your abilities, not only to become stronger and learn more about the coming disaster, but also in an attempt to achieve mind stability. 

However, what has been happening to you since you received the vision makes you think that you are already slowly but surely losing your mind. 

Will you be able to maintain your sanity and help others protect the kingdom, or will you become just another name in the long list of Oracles gone mad?

This is a free to play interactive fantasy story with a heavy focus on friendship and romance (with strangers to lovers or enemies dynamic). The story is rated 18+. Content warnings: violence, death, loss of sanity, trauma, avoidable sexually suggestive/sexual content, and more (the full list is in the demo).

Customize your Oracle: pronouns, traits, and appearance. Choose your full ✨ demonic form. ✨

Build friendship or romance with five different characters. (Allo and ace routes available.)

Learn more about the Oracles’ past and what truly drove their royal clan into ruin. Uncover the secrets of your abilities. Chat with the Abyss?

Decide what you do for fun. Do you sing, dance, paint, play a musical instrument, or write? 

What you did cannot be undone. Your reputation forever ruined, how will you handle the public’s new attitude toward you? 

Maintain your sanity. Depending on your choices, you’ll either move closer to loss of control and madness or further away from it.

Decide what fate awaits you. You’ll have to make an important decision that will open two very different paths for you, influence the plot’s progression, and your relationships.

Will the victory be sweet?

✨ Vezriel, The Sovereign (m / f)

Vezriel seems a perfect ruler: they’re smart, calm, patient, know moderation, and always put demons’ well-being first. But you’re not so naive as to think this is their real face—many secrets lurk under the golden shell of the nobility. You never thought of meeting them in the past, but now spending some time with them is inevitable. Perhaps you will find out what lies beneath their mask?

They have dark brown skin, long curly black hair, and black eyes with pale white flecks. Tall and of strong build, Vezriel cuts a robust but elegant figure, usually dressed in beautiful robes.

✨ Osara / Osaron, The Heir (f / m)

Vezriel’s only child and heir, O is their Chief Counselor, and they have a consistently good reputation. Their character reminds of their parent, though O is much more cold and reticent. Nothing seems to touch or shake their emotions, despite the known long list of ex-lovers. You don’t need their attention, but the circumstances have put you right under it. What will you make of this opportunity?

They have warm brown skin, long wavy black hair, and silver, almost white eyes. O is tall and strong, their expression impassive most of the time, which makes them rather intimidating and unapproachable to some demons.

✨ Lazarus / Lazaris, the General (m / f)

L rose from the bottom of the ladder and made a name for themselves, though judging by old rumors, their clean background wasn’t always so clean. They’re charismatic and popular but keep others at a distance—everyone except their friends… and you. L treats you especially well, but you’re not foolish enough to blindly play their game. What do they want from you?

They have beige skin, short/medium-length wavy blond hair, and golden eyes. Many small and big scars can be seen on their hands. L is tall and has a strong build. Despite their high station, they seem friendly and laid-back.

✨ Ashmedai, the Royal Healer (f / m)

Ashmedai was sent to observe your condition after the incident and to help you with mind stability if needed. They performed their duties without showing any displeasure or impatience no matter how you behaved. Ash is secretive and reserved, and you guess their restrained temper is connected to the dark rumors surrounding them. Will they open up to you?

They have pale skin, long straight black hair, and bright red eyes. A large scar runs on the left side of their face, from their forehead along their eye and to their chin. Ash is tall and slender.

✨ Azarias / Azaria, the Royal Musician (m / f)

Ash’s younger sibling, Az somewhat resembles them in appearance, but their characters couldn’t be more different. Az is bold, humorous, and fickle. They know everyone—and everything about everyone—and enjoy a special favor from the Sovereign, which has allowed them to retain their place in the royal palace for many years. You’re concerned about their peculiar attention to you because there’s no reason for it—you two have never met before. Or… is there a reason after all?

They have pale skin, long white hair, and black eyes with narrow silver pupils. A tattoo of a snake with flowers curves around their neck. Az is tall and lean.

[firewasabeast]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[goldfades]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "helloooo! can you write something about reader suspecting paige and azzi’s friendship to be more than a friendship (r and paige are a situationship or sum like that) and just paige reassuring her and saying that she has eyes only for her etc… (paige is literally obsessed with r)? thank you so much 💖💖💖💖💖"

─ word count | 1.3k

─ warnings | hurt to comfort, paige being sassy, reassurance and so much cute fluffy, a singular kiss

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @boiliatfu and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

YOU AND PAIGE had been friends for a while now, but it was just recently you'd been friends... and a little more.

It was something new, something fun and something secret. The only person who knows was KK only because she'd walked in on the two of you kissing, and now she swears she's "traumatized."

The secret relationship (of some sorts) between you and Paige added an exhilarating edge to your friendship. It was a thrill, the stolen glances, the secretive rendezvous, the whispered conversations laden with double meanings. You found yourselves drawn to each other in a way that went beyond friendship, yet you both reveled in the secretive nature of your relationship.

KK's discovery of your secret sent a ripple of panic through both of you at first. But unsurprisingly, she was more supportive than expected, despite her initial shock. After the initial awkwardness wore off, she became your confidante, the one person you could trust with your affair. She teased you both mercilessly, of course, but it was all in good fun.

But beneath the excitement, there was also a hint of panic. Keeping your newfound romance a secret added an element of danger, a thrill that was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. The fear of being discovered lurked in the background, heightening every stolen moment and making each encounter feel all all the more precious.

Yet despite the risks, the connection between you and Paige only seemed to grow stronger. The shared laughter, the stolen kisses, the quiet moments of intimacy — they all served to deepen the bond between you, creating a private world that was uniquely yours.

But of course, it wasn't all smooth sailing.

──

"What do you mean?" Paige's tone had an annoyed edge to it as she sent you a glance. She pulled off a side of her headphones as she kept her eyes glued on the computer screen.

You sighed exasperatedly, sitting up on her bed as you sent her a glare. "What do you think I mean?"

Paige hated when you spoke like that, so secretive and cryptic, like you wanted her to say the wrong thing. She liked things laid out plain and simple, while you preferred to dance around topics, especially ones that felt too vulnerable.

"I don't know, that's why I asked." Paige's voice didn't soften as she spoke, her eyes glancing at you every once in a while. She just had the most tiring practices and the last thing she wanted to do was argue with you.

You huffed, feeling frustrated. "I feel like Azzi has a crush on you or something. I see the way she looks at you, it's like when I look at you — all heart eyes, and shit."

Paige's lips curved into a smirk. "Aww, are you saying you have heart eyes for me?"

"I'm being serious, P." You were frustrated. You hated when you felt insecure, especially in relationships. While Paige never gave you any reason to doubt her, she was just naturally enticing and that's what pulled you to her in the first place.

But that's also why others were so captivated by her. The looks she gets, the way people spoke about her and now the whole TikTok obsession wasn't helping. You hated it — you wanted everyone to know that she was yours, and vice versa.

"Okay, okay." Paige's expression was still very much amused as she glanced toward you. "You know me and Azzi are just friends, we're just really close. I promise you, I'd know if she had a crush on me."

"I have eyes, Paige." You shot back, frustration bubbling in your voice.

You couldn't shake the feeling of insecurity gnawing at you, no matter how much you trusted Paige. The thought of someone else vying for her attention filled you with a sense of unease that you couldn't shake. You also knew that there was still that boundary, you weren't her girlfriend and had no valid reason for you to be jealous.

Paige's eyes widened at your tone. You never called her just by her name, it was some kind of nickname or pet name. She sighed as she pulled her headset off and set it down, turning to face you.

"Hey," Paige began gently, reaching out to take your hand in hers. "You have to believe me when I say there's nothing going on between me and Azzi. She's just a really good friend and she's not into me, and even if she is,"

She paused as she shook her head in amusement at the mere thought. "I don't want her, I want you."

You sighed, still feeling frustrated. "I want to believe you, P. I really do. But it's hard, you know? Seeing how close you two are, and... and knowing that I don't have any claim over you."

She squeezed your hand reassuringly, offering you a small smile. "I know it's not easy, especially when we haven't defined what we are yet. But that doesn't change how I feel about you."

You looked up, meeting her gaze, searching for any sign of deceit. But all you found was sincerity in her eyes.

"I care about you, more than I can put into words," Paige continued softly. "And I want you to feel secure in what we have, even if it's not official. You mean a lot to me."

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at Paige's words. Despite your doubts, her sincerity shone through, washing away some of your insecurities. Her hand in yours felt warm and comforting, grounding you in the present as you allowed yourself to bask in the affection she offered.

"I trust you, Paige," you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. "And I care about you too, a lot."

"Besides," Paige continued, her tone playful as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Who needs Azzi when I've got you? You're the one I can't stop thinking about, the one who drives me crazy in the best possible way."

You couldn't help but chuckle at her words, feeling a rush of affection for the girl sitting beside you. As you leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek, Paige's expression shifted, a teasing glint entering her eyes.

"And uh, speaking of claims," she began, her tone teasing as she traced a finger along your jawline. "You know, I've been thinking about you a lot lately. Can't seem to get you out of my head."

Your breath caught in your throat as you felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, really? And what exactly have you been thinking about?"

Paige leaned in closer, her lips brushing against yours as she whispered, "Just how lucky I am to have you in my life. And how much I want to make you mine, officially."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, warmth spreading through you at the intensity of her gaze. In that moment, any lingering doubts melted away, leaving only the affection you'd felt for Paige.

"But not right now 'cus this isn't as romantic as I want," she continued as you scoffed playfully. You leaned away slightly only to be pulled back by the blonde.

Paige's playful smirk widened as she pulled you back towards her. "Hey, don't pout. I promise when the time comes, it'll be unforgettable."

"So, you're really going to make me wait?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face as you leaned into her touch.

Paige smirked, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "I want it to be perfect, baby. But for now," she added, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, "just know that I'm all yours."

The warmth of her lips against yours sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of desire within you. "I'll hold you to that," you murmured against her lips, feeling a surge of affection for the woman in front of you.

Paige smiled against your lips, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[zhelin-thames]

Translated ver of this post by @doby-mans

Translated by google

Another idea I had for a DC x DP crossover, remembering canonically that Danielle went off on her own to different parts of the world.

This time, Young Justice. Danielle becomes part of the team, and everyone assumes she's a Martian, given that she focuses more on her magical abilities and skills like camouflage and phasing through walls.

But one day, Miss Martian falls ill and can’t use her telepathic powers to keep the team connected during a mission. They all turn to Danielle. Despite the setback, the mission goes well—they recover a dangerous magical artifact, a box with strange inscriptions. Finally, someone speaks up:

Superboy: “Why didn’t you establish a psychic link during the mission?”

Danielle: “Because I don’t have telepathic powers?”

Superboy: “We all know you’re a Martian like Miss Martian, so…”

Danielle: “I’m not! None of you understand the true nature of my powers, and maybe you never will! You don’t know what it’s like to be me!”

Robin: “What is it we don’t understand? Being different? Having powers no one fully comprehends? Being a teenager with raging hormones?”

Danielle: “No! Being an artificially created clone made in a secret lab!”

Impulse: “Let’s see, Superboy, Red Arrow, Robin… and now Danielle. Am I forgetting anyone?”

Danielle: “Wait, what?”

Superboy: “You’re not the first in that situation here. So, Martian DNA?”

Danielle: “Worse… The true nature of my powers… ghost DNA.”

Zatanna: “If that’s true, then you’re exactly what we need. According to the box’s inscription, only a halfa can open it.”

Danielle: Attempts to open the box but her hand starts melting. “Ah! I can’t… My ghost powers aren’t stable. This hasn’t happened in years.”

Robin: “Too bad there’s no other halfa to open the box.”

Danielle: “Well… that’s not entirely true. Besides me, there are two others. One is a dangerous villain—my creator—who disappeared years ago. And the other…”

Zatanna: “What about the other?”

Danielle: “The other… well, he’s…”

The entire Justice League, Young Justice, and Batfamily, who were either present or on the comms: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GHOST KING?!”

Danielle: “He’s the only other halfa left in this world, and he’s much stronger and more stable than I am. Do you want to open the box or not?”

Batman: “This could be important. Call him.”

Danielle: “I already did. I asked him to meet us here at the Gotham base.”

Nightwing: “We might have a problem. We were in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack when what looks like a flying boy froze her in seconds.”

Batman: “Froze her?”

Red Robin: “That’s not all. Joker, Penguin, and Two-Face were attacking on the same street, and the same boy let out some kind of super scream that knocked all of them unconscious, including their henchmen.”

Danielle: “Oh no… He’s mad.”

Robin: “Uh… The same boy just duplicated himself and locked every villain and criminal in the city inside what looks like a box made of his own energy.”

Danielle: “Oh no, he’s really mad.”

Danny: Appearing directly behind her. “Of course, I’m mad! I told you to call me the moment you became unstable! You know what could’ve happened!”

Danielle: “I know, I know, but you don’t have to worry. I haven’t needed an ectoplasm injection in years. Meditation usually works.”

Danny: “Have you been melting before?!”

Danielle: “Don’t be so overprotective. I called you for a different reason.”

Danny: “Don’t change the subject. Don’t make me ask Clockwork to keep an eye on you.”

Red Hood: “Clockwork?”

Danny: “The Ghost of Time.”

Batman: “We need help with this box.”

Danny: “And who’s this furry?”

Danielle: “That’s Batman, the hero of this city.”

Danny: “Well, terrible job. I’ve been here for two seconds, and I already had to clean up the mess. That box… it looks a bit like Pandora’s Box. Where did you get it?”

Wonder Woman: “But Pandora’s Box should be protected by…”

Danny: “Pandora herself. In my realm. Exactly.”

Danielle: “We recovered it during a team mission. Apparently, only a halfa can open it, but I couldn’t, and it destabilized me.”

Nightwing: “I don’t know what confuses me more: the box thing or how many powers this guy has.”

Danny: “That’s easy. I have classic ghost powers, including the ones I used around the city. But as King, I have access to ancient magical artifacts, like the Crown of Fire, which greatly amplifies ghost power. Along with the Ring of Rage, the power would be infinite, but I made a deal with the former king. He keeps the ring and his freedom as long as he doesn’t cause chaos. Then there’s Aragon’s Amulet, which basically gives dragon powers. There’s also the Ghost Key, which can literally open any door, whether in my world or this one…”

Danielle: “Is the list of magical objects really that long?”

Danny: “I was just missing the Reality Gems, which could change reality itself as we know it. But, of course, I already destroyed those…”

Batman: “The box is the priority.”

Danny: “Right. We shouldn’t open it. If it’s like Pandora’s Box, then whatever’s inside is very dangerous. But fine, if that’s what you want…” Opens the box and immediately both he and Danielle feel overwhelming discomfort. “I know this feeling. It’s… a Blood Blossom.”