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onlyswan · 5 months

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summary: in which leaving the past behind is not as easy as forgetting, and you want to be everything jungkook wants to know.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / angst, fluff / wc: 7.9k

playlist: strange by celeste / sinking by clairo / manta rays by chloe moriondo / ceilings by beabadoobee / iris (cover) by phoebe bridgers & maggie rogers

content/warnings: [deep breath] no one will know the violence it took to become this gentle / it’s their first winter as a couple / oc’s ex bf slaps oc / jk beats up the ex / blood and bruises / crying :( / mention of cheating (not in our main’s rs we don’t tolerate that in this household :]) / mention of s*x / jimin as both their older brother and friend :(

in which masterlist!

note: greeting 2024 with angst woopsie… i literally ugly sobbed writing a particular scene T_T… anwww i hope it’s a good read <3 as always reblogs and feedback are appreciated! i’d love to hear your thoughtsss 🥺

—

the word VICTORY flashes across the screen.

with a proud smirk adorning his lips, jungkook pushes down his headphones to hang around his neck.

he rises from his seat, resting his crossed arms over the partition dividing the computer that you’re renting from his.

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

he chuckles to himself when he realizes that you didn’t hear him, not with the music blasting from your headphones. you direct your attention upwards when endless song by no reply is abruptly put on pause; the cushions of the headphones are pressed up against your cheek by your boyfriend’s doing.

“what?”

“hi, baby. are you almost done?”

“oh, yes…” your focus returns to the screen, fast fingers dancing along the keyboard without an ounce of hesitation weighing on them. “i just… need to… send the file to my email.”

jungkook blinks at the long rows of words you’re masterfully curating, thinking to himself — how the hell do you think and type that fast at the same time?

it was his suggestion to stay at a pc bang tonight so you could be together while you each do your own thing. he spent his half of his day-off playing games, and during that time, you worked on your research paper and finished an essay that isn’t even due for another week. you took a break every hour, munched on some snacks, and cheered him on while he was diligently playing. perhaps he could’ve done something more productive today, but it couldn’t have made him happier.

he holds out the last slice of gimbap in between chopsticks, lightly poking your lips, and his heart flutters when you offer him a sweet smile after welcoming the big bite with some difficulty, cheeks full and nose scrunched.

“is there anything else you want to eat?”

you shake your head, and unable to speak while chewing, you gesture for water as if you’re playing charades.

a kiss is granted to your forehead.

when he comes back with a bottled water, all your tabs have been closed and you’re wearing your white beret again, re-organizing your belongings in your backpack.

“ready to leave?” he inquires as he hands your order.

you hum as a reply, standing from your seat as you swing the backpack over your head to wear it with little to no effort.

jungkook thinks you’re so cool.

you visit the restroom as he settles the bill. when you come out, he’s already pulling out a credit card from his wallet. you decide to head straight for the door then, wait for him outside as the air inside the room has started to feel a little too stuffy after you stepped away from the computer.

you’ve always thought about it— how time stands still when you experience something traumatic, how that moment feels stretched for eternity… how utterly barbaric that is. you’re forced to memorize frames of the origin of your scars, relive it over and over again, eyes closed and open. moments of happiness, on the other hand, are fleeting. they are sand slipping through the gaps of your fingers. getting out of bed is scooping them in your hands and praying that they will hold on to you in the following rotations and revolutions of the earth. they never do.

there he stood at the bottom of the stairs, just as horrified as you.

his face is the last thing you want to see on a winter night.

because you still recall the amalgamation of emotions in his eyes two winters ago. his skin was flushed from the cold, but he turned redder with anger and your stomach coiled in shame.

“juwon?”

the name felt odd in your mouth. it’s like when you eat a food you haven’t had in a long time, and it doesn’t quite taste like you remember it.

and to be honest, you didn’t know what you expected to happen when he carried on to climb the remaining steps that led to you. but it definitely wasn’t… this.

the first hand to carress your bare body, as if it was in disbelief of its existence, and the rings you used to blindly adore— they collide with your cheek with a sound that resonates in your eardrums.

the slap thins out into a ringing noise.

“are you insane?!”

it continues to assault your hearing even as you scream and hit him back.

it ends when someone bumps against your shoulder in a haste, and the next thing you register is juwon lying on the ground with jungkook sitting on top him, balled fist throwing unforgiving punches at your ex-boyfriend’s face. juwon is held hostage by the shock and is unable to reciprocate jungkook’s aggression. he attempts to fight back but your boyfriend dodges easily.

“jungkook! stop, stop, stop!”

you run down the stairs with panic thundering in your chest, nearly in tears as you forcefully grasp at the back of jungkook’s coat to pull him away, but with his strength and the adrenaline flowing through his veins, your efforts prove to be fruitless.

“you fucking bastard! i’m gonna kill you!”

“that’s enough-” you cry out. “please!”

“how dare you lay a hand on my girlfriend like that, huh?!”

he is furious, gripping the collar of juwon’s sweater and slamming him to the ground.

“your girl?” coughing, juwon faces the side to spit out the blood in his mouth, which then shapes into an arrogant smirk. “didn’t you know? ____ was mine first. i was the first!”

the next punch he receives cuts his lower lip open, and a stronger metallic taste assaults his tongue.

“jungkook!”

before jungkook could inflinct more permanent damage, you resort to holding back his arm with both of your hands.

your gazes connect, and your heart drops to your stomach. he is seething with anger. your blood runs cold and a thick haze clouds your thinking. you can’t move your limbs. what do you do? what do you do? what do you do?

“____, let go. i’m not fucking finished with him.”

“please,” you beg, ignorant of the tears that have begun to slide down your cheeks. “that’s enough. look at him!”

“and why should i care?” he spits out as he shrugs you off.

“ah, jungkook! i said that’s enough! why won’t you listen to me?!”

your desperate tantrum falls on deaf ears. you squeeze your eyes shut when he re-assumes his stance, tucks his thumb over his folded fingers, exactly what he taught you about making a proper fist to avoid injuring one’s self when boxing.

“stop it! you’re scaring me!”

that throws a bucket of ice over jungkook’s head. the anger in his eyes is replaced by vacancy, and with that, juwon seizes the opportunity to finally strike him with a jab and escape from underneath him. jungkook finds himself pushed aside on the ground with a throbbing cheek, mostly likely to be noticeably bruised in the next hours.

“love-” you gasp, and you rush over to him but your path gets rudely obstructed by your ex.

“is this the guy you cheated on me with?”

he is extremely near that you can feel him panting on your face. two years later, your stomach coils in disgust. your glare is venomous, and if only looks could kill, if only looks could kill…

“just leave, won’t you? what’s the point of all this?” you roughly push him away with your remaining shred of energy, driven by exhaustion and frustration. “it was so long ago! get a fucking grip!”

he huffs in disbelief as he wipes the blood from the corner of his mouth. it also drips from his nose and eyebrow. strange enough, you do not feel guilt nor compassion for this man. not anymore.

“are you seriously crying just because he got punched one time…? isn’t that a little unfair? you loved me too. once.” he snickers, but he is visibly pissed off. he can no longer look at you in the eye. “shit, is he that much of a better fuck than me?”

your skin crawls. bile creeps up your throat. technically speaking, this is the consequence of your own actions, but you can’t help but to be resentful.

“you are…” your voice trembles, but your glare remains unwavering. “still as despicable and shallow as ever… and i don’t regret what i did.”

and it may have been a long time ago, but you still know how to hit him where it hurts the most— his ego.

you purposely bump against his shoulder as you make your way to jungkook, leaving him speechless as he stares at the ground. the night the two of you broke up, you were crying and begging him for forgiveness… what the fuck happened?

“let’s go home.” you demand quietly while refusing to meet jungkook’s stare— a mix of confusion, offense, and rage.

but the thing about juwon? he always needs to have the last word.

“you better keep a close eye. you might think you know ____, but whores never change. especially those who became one so young.”

“dude, how are you still speaking?!”

it’s too late when you realize that jungkook has left your side. he swings at juwon’s face with a force that sends the man stumbling backwards. he completely loses balance then collapses on the ground with a curse that almost misses your ears.

“don’t ever go near ____ again! don’t even think of it! if you show your face to me again, i might really end up fucking killing you. you hear me?!”

—

jungkook doesn’t recall a time when he felt a rage this intense and consuming. witnessing you get slapped, his vision went dark and he was shaking with fury. everything was a blur after that, but he knew one thing: this man violated the most precious person to him, and he won’t allow him to get away with that unscathed.

and that must be why he feels restless until now. neither one of you has dared to utter a word for the past couple of minutes. he can’t see your face as you’re walking ahead of him, leading the way with his wrist in your cold hand. however, he can hear your sniffles, and he can see you wiping your tears dry with the back of your hand. he thought he has experienced heartbreak, but this pain cuts deeper than anything he has ever felt.

“baby, let’s go back.”

he breaks the silence, standing infront of you to stop you on your tracks. he almost reeks of desperation as he intertwines your fingers together.

“please? there should be a cctv camera infront. we can sue him.”

“are you even hearing yourself? you’ll also get into trouble!”

his insistence only fuels the urge to cry and scream and break things. it’s an understatement to say that you’re ashamed. it was foolish of you, really, to assume that leaving the past behind would be as easy as forgetting. it may be out of sight but it is everywhere, and it sneaks up on you without tell and mercy.

“you attacked him out of nowhere! he can sue you for that too!”

“out of nowhere?” he repeats your words slowly, hurt flashing across his face. “i was protecting you, ____! who knows what else he could’ve done? and the shit he was talking about you? was i just supposed to stand there and do nothing?”

“and i’m protecting you too! why did you even have to punch him again?! he was obviously just trying to provoke you! god, i-” you release the air in your lungs you didn’t realize you’ve been holding. “thank god he didn’t see your face.”

that struck a nerve for some reason. he harshly rips off the mask that has been concealing half of his face all along.

“he hit you! look- fuck, you’re bleeding-”

oh, his rings must’ve grazed you.

jungkook brings out a clean white handkerchief from the backpocket of his pants, pressing it softly against your cheek. the sharp sting forces you to grit your teeth. it’s not only the wound… your skin is still warm and tender from the assault. you’re terrified to look at the mirror. you don’t want to feel sorry for yourself.

“and that’s what you’re really worried about right now?”

“okay, then i’m sorry for caring about my boyfriend and his career! i’m sorry, okay?!“

he dies a little inside when you harshly push his hand aside.

so this is what it feels like to be at the other end of your anger… shitty. it feels really shitty. after what happened, there is no sadness or fear. the twinkle in your eyes have been replaced with sharp daggers and it is gutwrenching to watch. it clicks for him then: you weren’t scared of him. you were scared for him.

he doesn’t allow you to go further than ten feet away. he seizes your arm before sneaking his hand on your waist to tug you closer to his body.

“you think i’m letting you out of my sight again? it’s not happening!”

you click your tongue in exasperation, left with no choice but to admit defeat as he hails the approaching taxi. you cover your face to hide from the blinding headlights.

ever the gentleman, jungkook opens the door for you.

“get in, ____.”

and the first thought that enters your mind: the air freshener is nauseating. it has to be something mixed with lemon.

you roll the window down as your boyfriend dictates the address of your destination to the taxi driver. not yours, but his. you send him an unimpressed scowl, but he only looks back at you challengingly under the warm dim light. the soft cloth is placed over your wound again, rudely snatched as you turn away from him. you hold it on your own as you watch the world outside the window, streetlamps with blurry light streaks and homes you will never set foot into. in the midst of your musing, you register the weight on your head, or its lack thereof. your beret landed on the ground in the aftermath of the first strike. what is there left to lose?

you thought you could be happy at last, but beside you is another soul you’ve stained with your bloody hands.

juwon was right, you never change.

—

“i still don’t think it’s right that i know the password.” you whisper as you push the door open.

“but i have a key to your house. what’s the difference?”

“i don’t know…” you begin removing your boots, carefully placing each one in the middle level of the shoe rack. “you live with six other people.”

“namjoon-hyung and yoongi-hyung are in their studios. the others went home.”

you enter the living room with jungkook hugging you from behind. his cheek rests on top of your shoulder, and he doesn’t want to let you go. the ride here was suffocating. he thought you wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the night anymore.

you blink at jimin who is sprawled out on the sofa, a gray blanket that matches his sweatpants is covering his naked torso.

“why does he sleep here? doesn’t he have a bed?”

“the sofa is more comfortable.” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear as he opens his eyes halfway, but then he gives up and closes them again, curling in on himself to resume his slumber.

“okay… now i know what to get you for your birthday.”

for a brief second jungkook assumes that you’re joking, but you sounded way too nonchalant.

“a sofa?”

“a new mattress,” you blankly stare back at him, before proceeding to break free from his embrace to search for the bathroom.

he follows you like a lost puppy, whining. “why does he already have a birthday gift and i don’t?!”

“quiet!”

he winces. “sorry, hyung!”

—

you’re perched in the space between jungkook’s thighs, legs swung over one of them as he tenderly presses a cold compress against your left cheek. you’ve changed into the pair of pink cooky pajamas he wore a few times and has kept in his closet specially for you. sinking into his mattress, drowsiness has also begun to seep into the depths of your bones. it’s been an arduous week, and you’re exhausted of fighting in every sense of the word.

“he deserves more than what he got away with.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

“jungkook, enough.” you chide at him with a sigh. “let’s just forget about this.”

“your face is going to be bruised for atleast a week! how am i supposed to ‘just forget’? are you hearing yourself?”

your rhetoric question from earlier comes back to gnaw at your thread-like sanity. you feel backed into a corner. you can’t think of a solution that will put this issue at rest, much less make either one of you feel better.

“he’s not worth it.”

“you are to me.” he declares.

it’s impossible to argue with that. you want it to stay true. you want him to keep believing in you.

“i’m tired.” you whisper, removing yourself from his lap. “let’s go to sleep.”

he gazes at you with longing.

you are lying on his bed but you have never felt so far away.

“are we really not going to talk about this?”

“not now. i’m tired, jungkook.”

“baby…”

“juwon is a terrible person, but i had it coming…” you mumble. “that’s all there is to it.”

foreboding silence falls upon the bedroom. you can’t bring yourself to look at jungkook, so you close your eyes and pray that when the sun rises, this night will simply turn out to be a nightmare orchestrated by your wicked mind.

“whatever that is, it doesn’t warrant what he did.” he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart into a thousand shards. “and i’m sorry that i couldn’t stop it from happening.”

—

jungkook returns after his shower, not yet done with drying his dripping hair with a towel. you’ve drifted off to sleep in the time that he was gone, lips slightly parted open as you breathe out puffs of air in a steady rhythm. your hair is a halo and you’re an angel snoozing on a cloud.

he heard it loud and clear, and you haven’t denied it either, but there’s not a part of him that believes it. is he blindly in love with you? is this what he was warning him about? are you not an angel, but a siren?

wary of waking you up, he attaches a bandaid to your cheek. he flicks the lightswitch but he turns on the night lamp so you won’t have to manuever the dark incase you wake up in the middle of the night in need of the bathroom.

shit, shit, shit. he curses in his head when you begin shuffling as soon as he settles himself on the bed, but it’s just you unknowingly seeking for warmth in your sleep. he gathers you in his arms and your pillow is abandoned in favor of his naked chest. it always feels fitting, like his heart is the stuffed toy that you can’t go without at night.

he swallows the lump in his throat, brushing your hair away from your face to gently caress your soft skin. you look so serene. but your ex’s fingers can be traced on the red bruise that has tainted your cheek and his jaw clenches, hand momentarily balling into a fist to release the leftover anger still boiling in his blood. everyday, you feel the need to act tough because of people like him, and you are… but deep down, he knows, that you just crave to be loved.

“you loved me too. once.”

however, that has lost its meaning when juwon didn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.

and jungkook admits it’s not as easy for him to do in a whole different dimension. he leads a kind of life not everyone survives, but that never stopped him for trying his damn hardest.

—

you’re awoken in the middle of the night by jungkook’s forehead accidentally knocking against yours. his snoring doesn’t cease, however, and you had to remind yourself that this is the same boy who continued sleeping despite rolling off his inflated sleeping bag on camera.

you slowly sit up as you rub the sleep from your eyes. you spend an unknown amount of time spaced out, barely blinking. afterwards, you force yourself to leave the comfort of the bed, taking the cold compress along with you. you drain the melted ice over the kitchen sink before opening the refrigerator to refill it with ice cubes. you can’t help but to allow your eyes to wander around, which then leads you to contemplate on whether to cook ramen or not… but then again, it’s already 3am and most likely, you won’t be able to sleep again if you do.

“yah! why are doing just standing there?”

the deep voice echoes throughout the kitchen. you yelp in shock, nearly dropping the ice bag as you tap on your pounding chest.

“i told you to stop doing that!”

jimin bursts into a fit of too delighted giggles, hunched over the kitchen counter as he places a hand over his belly. he’s fully clothed this time, fresh from the shower, judging from his hair.

“it’s not funny!” you whine. “one of these days i might be holding a knife when you do that!”

“ey, what would you be holding a knife for? jungkook never lets you lift a finger while you’re here.”

that’s just because he knows you’re not very talented in the kitchen.

the wide smile on his face then fades, expression morphing into one of concern as he studies your face bathed by the refrigerator light.

“what happened to your face?”

fuck, you’ve completely forgotten about that.

“it’s a long story.” you sigh, closing the refrigerator.

“it’s alright. i have all the time in the world to listen.”

“you know that i really appreciate that and i’m grateful but…” your smile borders on a wince. “no, you don’t. get some more sleep, please.”

your unexpected response causes jimin to scratch his head shyly. the two of you stare at each other for a few seconds before laughing at the same time.

“oh, that’s right!” you pause on your tracks when an essential item pops in your mind. “do you have healing ointment? for cuts and bruises and stuff?”

“it’s for jungkook,” you add.

“doesn’t he have that?”

“it’s not here,”

your sweet smile tells jimin everything he needs to know.

“ah, that kid really comes home to different houses now. he’s all grown up.”

“…and how many exactly?” you arch an eyebrow.

he purses his lips together, jokingly pretending to think hard. “the dorm… and then his family… then there’s you?”

“anywhere else?”

“nope!”

“sooo, do you have it or not?”

“i’ll go downstairs and buy it right now.”

he offers you a kind smile and pats on the head. a protest dies down in your throat as he goes straight for the front door.

“thank you!”

“you’re welcome!”

—

despite your active efforts to avoid making any sort of noise, the door produces a small ‘click’ as you cautiously close it behind you. you discover that jungkook has flipped over to face your side, his arm outstretched as if he was reaching out for you. you almost feel bad for leaving him alone in bed, so you sit next to him, positioned on the lower half of the bed since he took up your space.

a short snore escapes him, one that rises then falls so abruptly, like a note on the piano pressed on accident. you cover your mouth to muffle your giggle.

how adorable. you have grown to tolerate, and even adore, his snoring.

stolen kisses on his bruised knuckles, tiny and featherlight, apologetic most of all. their bad condition brought upon by boxing worsened when he used his dominant hand bare, knuckles of his two longest fingers ripped. it seems that he did the bare minimum by putting a stop to the bleeding then washing them clean, then nothing else. he didn’t even tell you, didn’t complain or show any sign that he was in pain.

you hold the cold compress over his bruises, switching between his cheek and knuckles, mindful of not touching the wounds as to not aggravate him in his sleep.

you’ve been stripped down bare— your pride and dignity dismantled into pieces that create a picture of you that you do not like… but could be the love and sincerity in your heart be enough to live by? even if no one is awake to witness it?

you’re saved from drowning in your thoughts by the front door being unlocked. for the second time, you tiptoe your way out of jungkook’s bedroom.

“this is for wounds, and then…” jimin returns the tube inside the paper bag to grab the other. “this one, for bruises.”

“thank you. i’ll pay you back.”

“yah!” jimin expands his eyes threateningly, which you mimic in challenge as you hug the paper bag to your chest. “i’m also your older brother, okay? i should do these things for you.”

you scrunch your nose, to express disagreement at first, but later on it only makes your smile appear brighter.

“doesn’t it hurt you to smile? please use them well too, ____. do you understand? that’s why i bought the biggest ones!”

it does hurt.

“thank you…” you reply shyly.

you’ve forgotten how it feels like to be taken care of by family.

—

“baby, where did you go?”

jungkook’s raspy voice is music to your ears.

he woke up a mere minute ago, caught in the middle of sitting up on the bed once it caught up to his sleep-muddled brain that you’re no longer beside him.

“nowhere,”

you sit at the edge of the bed without another word, putting his hands over your lap to apply the healing cream to his afflictions.

his eyelids flutter in sleepiness as he watches your every movement.

a small dollop at the pad of your finger, transferred over his torn knuckle and smeared with the lightest of touch. occasionally your finger pauses, unsure, calculating— the last thing it wants is to hurt him.

he kisses your lips— he feels suspended in time—hasn’t quite reconnected with reality and with his body. wide-eyed, you seem taken aback by the display of affection. his mouth then softly curves with fondness.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.” you whisper timidly.

your actions have become hurried, but jungkook is far too drowsy to notice your discomfort.

for the final part, you rub the cream on the bruise on his cheek. you press a kiss on the corner of his lips. “all done. go back to sleep.”

“let’s go,”

he hooks his arm under your knees, eager to carry you over to your side of the bed, but he gets interrupted by your protest.

“wait, wait, wait- i need to pee first.”

“wha- hurry!” he complains with a peeved frown, which you fail to catch a glimpse of because he has squeezed you taut against his body. “i won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

—

eternally cursed with the ability to feel too much of everything.

you push your back against the bathroom door, breathing heavy and labored as you blindly pat around for its lock. the click serves as the cue for your salty tears to drip from the edges of your eyelashes, cascading down, down, down your chin. some of them crash on the collar of your pajama top, the rest on the white tiled floor. this room is a stranger to your shipwreck, but old habits die hard.

the intense pressure of the water collides with the porcelain sink. rain and thunder and the gusts of wind being your gasps for air. an isolated storm undetected in the city of seoul you’re forced to brave alone, on the floor, tucked into yourself to protect the beating sacredness inside your ribcage. the sobs claw their way up your throat rather than soaring like exhales do.

no one has ever raised their hand at you. not even your parents. not even when you broke your grandmother’s precious china, or lost their big paper bills to the wind, or cursed at them for embarrassing you infront of your friends.

you want to be mad and say that juwon deserved what he got. you want to say that you hope his nose is broken. but you don’t know how one is supposed to react when something like that happens. you don’t know if it justifies everything after that. if the roles were reversed and you slapped him, won’t no one bat an eye?

…and you know jungkook has questions you still haven’t figured out how to answer. you know he now has reasons to doubt you. you know in his eyes, you may now be a hypocrite and not the advocate he adored. these days, you don’t really want to be seen as anything less or more than who you are, but you so desperately wish to be someone he is proud to love.

you feel mocked for even daring to dream of it.

“i’m tired, i’m tired, i’m tired.”

incoherent mumbles further stirs the unbridled chaos.

“i’m so sick of this. why… why do bad things keep happening to me?”

you don’t expect an answer but you yearn for some sort of meaning. you don’t mind suffering but you wish it could only be to an extent where you don’t have to fear.

echoes of rumbles and thunder. you’re nearer the sky but farther from heaven.

—

it’s been more than a week. you’ve been waking up with a gaping hole in the middle of your torso. you climb out of bed, cover up your cheek with make-up, good as new, and go about your day as if nothing happened. life on its own is already too much of a burden for you.

jungkook checks up on you everyday, though, despite his busy schedule. mostly through the phone, and whenever he can, he goes straight to where you are after work to dote on you no matter the time. he kisses you on the cheek, claims himself to have healing properties, and says i love you. and during those periods of time you were together, he hasn’t said another word about the incident. and it has been driving you absolutely insane.

you glance down at him, sat on the floor with an ipad balanced on top of his propped up knees, wearing one of your anti-radiation glasses as he finds himself absorbed in drawing the view a foot away from him. you.

“why do you keep looking at me?” he scolds you lightheartedly. “go back to studying so we can go to sleep.”

“can’t help it,” you mumble as you reposition your pen over the paper. you’ve been reorganizing your notes the whole night for your upcoming tests, but your mind keeps flying everywhere else. “my boyfriend’s too pretty.”

“ah, it can’t be helped then. sorry about that.” he smirks cockily, pulling the dramatics by switching his eyes between you and his back. “should… should i turn around then?”

“did you box again?”

the accusation is spat out before you can think twice.

“oh, you did. your knuckles are all messed up again.”

he pouts, crossing his legs. “but baby, i have to train... i wrapped my hands properly!”

“still,” you sigh. “can’t you just let them heal for a little while?”

you turn to the cabinet on your other side to bring out the pouch of healing ointments you’re now suspecting he brought and didn’t accidentally leave behind.

you lay out your hand, and jungkook puts his on top of yours, dragging himself close.

you both smile when you see that he has laid his hands over your thighs like he’s getting a manicure. silly boy. you pull them closer by his fingers so you can reach his red knuckles.

“why are you trying so hard?”

your finger is stained with his blood. your voice is as gentle as your touches, and that’s why it hurts.

jungkook doesn’t know either. he’s been trying to extinguish his leftover anger and bitterness through work and boxing— suppressing the onslaught of negative thoughts threatening to poison what the two of you have. jungkook doesn’t want to know. he doesn’t want anything to change. right now, he can’t afford them to.

“there’s no one to fight.”

“turns out there is,” he argues.

he regrets it as soon as your hand trembles.

“it’s okay… to ask. we’re in a relationship. you’re entitled to know things like that.” your eyes are unafraid again, and it scares him, like you’re always prepared to let him go. “i won’t get offended, or anything like that. if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“i trust you,” he says simply. “so i don’t need to know. especially if talking about it makes you uncomfortable. it’s okay… we’re okay, baby.”

stillness washes over the room like a tide that swallows everything up, and for a moment jungkook is convinced that the two of you will never bring it up again.

but the words you utter next are a punch to the gut.

they almost sound like a plead.

“but i can’t live my life that way, jungkook.”

strands of your hair descend to your face, framing it perfectly, but your eyes become hidden from view. you rip a bandaid open and blanket it over his two knuckles, still wounded as before, if not worse.

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know…” because there will be things i’d want to tell you, but wouldn’t feel the need to.

“then tell me,” he replies, prompted by a renewed determination. “i don’t just intend to be with you for a long time. i want way more than that.”

—

jungkook fiddles with the hello kitty bandaid using his thumb, mind reeling and grappling to process the overload of information told by your storytelling voice. all of a sudden, he’s grateful that you decided to lie down on the bed for this conversation.

“juwon was your boyfriend before me, no?”

“no, no, no. he was…” your lips part as if you have something more left to say, but you eventually give up. “yup, no.”

“so you found out that he’s been cheating on you for-for two mo-”

“three-”

“three months, and you…” he blinks. “slept with a stranger and let him catch you?”

“i was really petty. i was seventeen after all… my pride couldn’t take it. my friends- they tried to stop me but… but all i could think of was how to make him feel the way i was feeling.” your voice sounds small, smaller as you squeeze yourself into his side and curl up to hide your face. “so i let him think i was the bad guy.”

he understands that you were vengeful, but he doesn’t know if you comprehend the scale of what you have done.

“he looked so sad and hurt that i started to feel guilty. i don’t know if i was still acting when i was apologizing to him.” you scoff with eyebrows knitted together. “i felt so dirty… i still feel like a bad person, you know?”

you took the face of juwon’s demons and he didn’t like what he saw.

“i had it coming,” — he now has a grasp of what you meant before.

“so how has he been doing this to me for such a long time? how does he stomach it? knowing what i was going through? that’s what i thought… it makes me so upset…”

jungkook doesn’t try to assess you as you speak. he only listens, until your voice cracks. his heart is split into two as tears flood your eyes, escaping past the corners and slipping down to soak the fabric of his t-shirt.

you sniffle. “and the sex wasn’t even that great. i regret it even more.”

he flinches, abruptly squeezing his eyes shut. not that great? okay… okay. the mental image of you being physically intimate with someone that isn’t him definitely doesn’t sicken him to his core. at all. nope, nope, nope.

“fuck, baby, please,” he groans as if he is in pain, putting an arm over his eyes. “hearing about you have sex with other guys is making me want to punch something again. fuck.”

“that’s what you took away from the story?”

“yes!” he exclaims with conviction. “we should’ve met a year earlier. i would’ve let you use me!”

you gasp, scandalized. “oh my god! jungkook!”

“argh-” he animatedly clutches at his chest that caught your fist.

“you’re crazy!”

“uhuh, about you.” he proudly replies, pulling you closer to his side, as if that was still possible.

the subtle upwards of the corners of your lips gives him a sense of relief. he tenderly cups your cheek, his thumb ghosting over the bruise that has turned a darker shade of blue and purple.

“listen to me, i- i’m not here to tell you what’s right or wrong. i’m not that type of person. but what i can do tell you is that this…” he briefly shakes his head. “didn’t change the way i see you at all. he hurt you. he cheated and you were hurt, ____.”

your eyes gleam with uncertainty, a fresh wave of tears threatening to escape. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. why wouldn’t i be sure?”

“because you’re crazy about me.”

the sweet innocence of your eyelashes fluttering elicits a chuckle from him. you’re so fucking cute.

“that’s the reason i’m sure.” he tilts up your chin to plant a kiss to your lips, mumbling. “i’ve never been wrong about anything i’m crazy about.”

“thank you,” you say quietly, melting into his embrace. you nuzzle your face against his chest, and at last, you grant your eyes rest. “i can finally sleep peacefully again.”

fuck, it’s been weighing on you this whole time and he didn’t know.

“i’m sorry i only dated assholes before you.”

“aish, why would you be sorry about such a thing?” he kisses the top of your head, gentleness contradicting his following sentence. “i’d crush each one of those assholes for you.”

and he’d beat himself up the worst if he ever becomes one of them.

you yawn, sniffling right after. “mhm, i bet you will.”

he carefully rolls over to the side so he can wrap both arms around you, and you keen in contentment.

“jungkook?”

“yes, baby?” he coos.

“i… really… love you so, so, so much. you are… the one person i’d die for before i hurt.”

goddammit, it’s an angel sleeping in his arms.

“that’s a relief to hear. you’re very smart and scary when you’re mad.”

“eh, jungkook! i swear i’ve grown up! i’m not like that anymore!”

“okay, okay!” he laughs at your childish whining and squirming as he ushers you back in his embrace. “i believe you! i trust you! i love you too!”

—

although you spend more nights together in your apartment for your safety and convenience, in all honesty, you like staying over at jungkook’s more. his smell evokes the sentiment of home, and when you stay long enough, it becomes a temporary part of you. you’re gradually more well-versed in the organized and unorganized corners of his room. you like that you know where he keeps the safety pins and you know to be careful when walking so you won’t trip over his dumbbells he leaves lying around. and it’s a little ridiculous but… you like that his mattress is on the floor and you don’t really know why.

your boyfriend is still blissfully asleep as you climb over him, landing on the floor without a sound like a veteran spy. however, you rush to step out of the room before the rumbling of your empty stomach could wake him up.

“yah, thief! what do you think you’re doing?!”

“fuck!” the pack of ramen hits the floor when your hands fly to your chest to clutch at your painfully pounding heart. “i swear to god, you’re going to kill me one day!”

and unsurprisingly, your chagrin is countered yet again with jimin’s all too pleased laughter.

“____, you look so suspicious! why are you using a flashlight? we have electricity! we can pay for it!”

“i don’t like it too bright, okay?” you grumble as you pick up your supposed midnight meal.

“let’s just turn on this one then.”

“uh-” the objection dies down in your throat when the light over the dining table was switched on.

“i’m hungry, too. grab two more packs of ramyeon, please.”

“who’s the other one for?”

jimin fills the pot with water from the sink while you pick up two more of the same pack from the pantry.

“just us. don’t you agree that one pack is too small for one person?”

“it’s just enough for me though?” you rip open the packs one by one to retrieve the packets of seasonings. “with your job, though, i’d definitely have a bigger appetite.”

“alright,” he pouts, pretending to be upset. “let’s have just two then.”

“no, no, no-” you chase his hand, tightly gripping the last pack that he stole. “let’s have three! let’s have three! i didn’t eat dinner!”

—

“my mom brought a lot of kimchi yesterday. there’s an entire box in the fridge. i’ll pack you some before you leave later.”

“put some more in,” you say cutely as you peer down at the pot of ramen beside jimin. “please?”

he chuckles, adhering to your request before handing the container to you.

“thank you!”

you hop on the counter infront of the stove, chewing on a mouthful of kimchi with a joy akin to a child receiving a sweet treat. leaving the ramen to cook for the next five minutes, jimin sits a few feet away.

“aigoo, are you that hungry?”

“this is so delicious!” you praise his mother’s cooking instead of answering the question. “i can really eat this on its own.”

“ey, don’t fill yourself up yet! we have a lot of ramyeon to eat!”

“sorry, sorry!”

your giggles fill the apartment with warmth during this freezing winter. jimin didn’t doubt it when jungkook said that you light up every room you enter, he just didn’t expect that he would also gain a friend.

“how’s your cheek?”

“as you can see,” you motion at your face. “yellow. soooo… uglier.”

“that means it’s healing well.”

“i know,” the apples of your cheek become plump as your lips curve. “it no longer hurts to smile.”

“that’s a relief to hear,” he returns your kind smile. “jungkook has been worried about you.”

that’s the end of what he can tell you. jungkook won’t be pleased if you learn that he cried when he talked about the horrible thing that happened to you.

“thank you,”

“huh? for what?”

“being jungkook’s happiness.”

from his peripheral vision, he perceives your surprise. however, he is too flustered to meet your eyes while he is speaking from the bottom of his heart.

“the past year was physically and mentally draining for the team. as you know, we… we were considering giving up and disbanding. and of course it’s hard on all of us, but i’m really, really worried about jungkook. but!”

he chuckles at the dramatic rise of his own voice.

“i’m less worried now that you’re in his life. and i’m not saying this to put pressure on you or anything! but you see, when he’s tired, he bounces back quickly because of you. he’s smiling more because of you. and i know it goes it also goes the other way around. mhmm… i-i guess what i’m saying is that i hope you can continue being each other’s strength? be each other’s cheerleader?”

you have begun to feel emotional as you listened to his sincere and heartwarming words, but you can’t help but to cackle at the fact that you just witnessed the park jimin say the word ‘cheerleader’ while daintily waving his hands around as they were holding pompoms. how awfully endearing.

“…or something like that.”

uncontrollable giggles vibrate his body, dramatically slipping down the counter and onto the tiled floor to enshroud himself in extreme sheepishness.

“ah, ____! this is driving me crazy! don’t laugh!”

“what are you doing lying on the floor?” you playfully scold him, recording with your phone in secret. “why do i suddenly feel like the older one?”

“what’s with the noise?”

you whip your head around, wide curious eyes greeted with a shirtless jungkook who is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“is that ramyeon…? i want some too.”

jimin groans when he feels your foot poke him lightly.

“mister, can we add more? my googie is hungry too.”

—

“hyung, ____ told me something recently that really put a lot of things into perspective.”

and with that, jimin pours another bottle of beer in his and jungkook’s ice-filled mugs. “let me hear it.”

“if you intend to be with me for a long time, then i need you to need to know. at first i didn’t understand what it meant? then after we talked, something clicked for me. ahhh, i see it now. ____ didn’t want us to trust each other blindly… because that… that isn’t a good… foundation? for something that i want to last for a very long time. you, me, the members… don’t we all trust each other because we know that we’re good people to our core and we’re good at what we do? isn’t that why we have come this far, and why we keep going? besides army, of course!”

jimin blinks lazily, glossy eyes from the alcohol underneath it all. “that’s right. we wouldn’t have started this anyway… without that kind of trust. i don’t think it’s a connection you can just build with anyone too.”

“oh, that’s it. that’s right!”

“living together for a long time doesn’t guarantee it.”

“exactly.” jungkook nods repeatedly, probably too passionately, a guaranteed ticket for a hangover later on. “we talked about that last time too.”

“right? so we should protect it… maintain it… never lose sight of our purpose…”

the lack of words that follow does not equate to silence. glasses clink against each other and teeth rip bags of chips open and noodles are slurped. they’re overseas and they can’t go to a korean restaurant and grill their own meat. the hotel steak would take forever to arrive and quite frankly, they had it yesterday and it was not good. this is not exactly ideal, but it has its own charm.

jungkook takes another swig of the bittersweet alcohol, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand afterwards.

“____ has become an important part of my life that i would do anything to protect too. how do i say it…?” he exhales to relieve the heavy weight on his chest. “i feel like i gained more purpose in life, hyung… to be honest, i might have a harder time because of that. i know it but… i’m happy. seriously, i’m happy.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook one shot #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook smut

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mopopshop · 2 months

Text

Ur Best Friend

Inspired by the song “Ur Best Friend” - Kehlani and Kiana Ledé (such a good song oml 🙏🏾)

Paige x fem!OC (cause ion do that y/n stuff, no hate but I don’t🧍🏾‍♀️)

Featuring: Jalen Suggs

Words: 2k

Themes:

-drinking

-cheating (sorry fam)

-slight sexual content

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over the backyard, the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. It was my boyfriend Jalen's twenty-third birthday, and I had spared no effort in planning the perfect party. A few weeks earlier, we’d just celebrated our five months, so I had to have a party to top the last. The decorations were up, the music playlist carefully curated (tons of Rod Wave and Bryson Tiller), and the scent of food filled the air.

Among the guests was Paige, Jalen's best friend since eighth grade. I've always been cordial with her, exchanging polite smiles and casual conversation whenever she was around. But something had shifted in the past few weeks. A subtle tension lingered between us, sparking whenever our eyes met, igniting something unfamiliar yet exhilarating.

She'd gotten more touchy with me as well, a hand on the lower back and a hushed "excuse me" to get past, a casual arm over the shoulder during group hangouts, a hug or two, but up until a few weeks ago, I'd seen these as nothing less than innocent.

She's a friend, you know? Jalen's friend at that, so no way in hell I'd ever try anything with her. Not to say she's not, you know... good-looking. She'd 100% be my type if it wasn't for Jalen. Paige's tall, she's blonde, she's funny, has a nice smile—did I mention tall? Sometimes she wears these glasses which make her look—

"Aniyah!!"

I'm pulled from my thoughts as my friend Gigi waves me over to her.

"Come on, we're about to sing happy birthday," she smiles and rushes over to me, grabbing my arm and dragging me into the kitchen.

As I followed Gigi into the kitchen, my heart skipped with something unfamiliar upon seeing her. Paige was already there, chatting with a few other guests and standing next to Jalen. She was wearing a grey Nike tech sweatsuit under the jacket, a white tee, her classic braided ponytail, and topped off the look with white Jordan 4’s.

As I moved through the crowd, I couldn't help but steal glances at her. At times, we made eye contact which deepened the flush in my cheeks.

I’d told Jalen earlier that week that I wanted to toast to him before we sang for the cake, and I’d prepared something ahead of time, but now as the moment approached, something about it just hadn’t felt right. In the midst of my thinking, I don’t notice Jalen coming up to me with open arms.

“Hey baby, you good?” He says with a look of worry.

I’m startled by the sound of his voice and am quickly ripped from my thoughts.

“Hey! Yeah yeah I’m fine… just hoping you like my toast,” I breathe out, praying he doesn’t press the issue.

He smiles and says nothing, placing his hand on the small of my back and directing me towards the front of the crowd… towards Paige.

I lock eyes with Paige again and I rush to look away, but as I go to look back, I notice she’s still staring.

What was this tension between us? And why was it becoming harder to ignore?

Gigi nudged me playfully, breaking me out of my thoughts. "Girl what is going on with you today, you gonna do this toast or what?”

With a deep breath, I grab my shot glass and get everyone’s attention.

“Hey y’all, before we sing happy birthday, I just wanted to make a toast to my man. Tonight, let's raise our glasses to celebrate Jalen's 23rd birthday. Jalen, you're more than just a boyfriend; you're my rock.”

Even as I say these words and the more I go on, I don’t feel as though they’re genuine. All I can do is think of Paige…

“Your kindness, strength, and passion inspire me every day. Your laughter lights up any room, and your presence warms my heart. Here's to another year of smiles, laughter, and adventures together. Happy birthday, Jalen! Cheers!”

I tip my head back and down the shot, feeling the lukewarm liquid burn its way through my throat. Bringing my head up, I catch Paige’s gaze once again, and this time I don’t look away.

Suddenly my view of her is obscured as a group of Jalen’s friends come from the hallway with his birthday cake. Everyone gathers around Jalen, me on his right side and Paige on his left while Jalen holds the cake in the middle. We quickly sing happy birthday, and he blows out his candles. He turns to me to go in for a kiss, but I catch sight of Paige behind him and end up swerving his kiss.

“Yo.. seriously you good babe?” Jalen spews sort of irritated.

“Fine! I’m fine,” I squeak out, “Just…”

My gaze falls over to Paige, seeing her fight back a smile or maybe a chuckle at the sight of me rejecting Jalen’s kiss.

“… distracted.”

“Uh.. cool, okay,” I see him look to his friend group.

“I’m just gonna go and talk with the boys for a minute,” and he presses a brief kiss to my cheek.

“Have fun!” I turn around and try to yell over the music, but I can tell he’s already forgotten about me.

When I look back, I see Paige again. She makes prolonged eye contact then trails her eyes to the porch outside. Cocking her head towards the door as if to say “let’s talk out here” and promptly turns around and heads out the back doors.

I wait a few minutes before heading out to follow her because as much as I long to talk with her, I’m not trying to look desperate. Slowly but surely, I make my way over to the doors, pushing them open to see Paige leaning with her forearms on the railing.

“What are you following me out here for?” Paige teases turning her head with a smirk. I laugh quietly, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

She stands up straight, turning around to face me, leaning her back on the railing, crossing her feet and arms.

“You're trying to be shy so bad, get your ass over here,” She laughs.

I throw my hands up defensively, my voice pitching up a little bit, “I’m not being shy! I just don’t know what to say right now.”

Paige reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me entirely too close to her. “You don’t have to be so weird, it’s just me,” she says softly while caressing my fingers.

“I just- I.. I don’t know! Everything’s just so complicated right now,” I confess.

“Well talk to me about it,” she continues caressing my fingers, which makes it increasingly hard to think straight.

“I can’t.”

“Why not, mamas?”

That god damn nickname.

“I can’t because it’s about you.”

“What about me?”

“I can’t say! I just- it’s like- If I say how I really feel about.. you know everything, It’s gonna be real, and I’m not sure if I want it to be real.”

“Ma, you’re not making any sense right now.”

“I know!” I throw my hands up in frustration, I feel hot and flustered, and Paige being less than two feet from me isn’t making it any better.

Paige grabs my chin, bringing me closer and forcing eye contact.

“Hey, hey, look at me. Seriously breathe through it, you’re okay,” She says calming me down. “Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

I take a deep breath and back away from Paige slightly, letting the word vomit take its course.

“Every time I see you, my heart races, and my palms get all sweaty. I try to play it cool, you know. But let's be real, I am desperate. Desperate to talk to you, to be near you, to just be in your presence. And when I finally gather the courage to make my way over to you, my knees feel like jelly, and my words get all jumbled up. But you! You just stand there with that smirk on your face, teasing me, and you know you have this effect on me, you love it. I know you do.

And then you show up to Jalen’s party, making all the faces and giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes, and it’s just- it’s a lot to deal with! So I come out here to shut it down, but you make it so fucking hard by pulling me closer, rubbing my fingers and shit, making it impossible for me to think straight. And then by asking me what's on my mind, what's bothering me, you’ve become a better partner to me in ten minutes than Jalen ever has in these past five months.

And I know I should just spill my heart out to you, which I quite literally am doing right now, and tell you how I feel and hope for the best. But it's not that simple. I am scared, scared of losing you, of ruining our friendship, of making things awkward between us. But I can't help the way I feel, Paige. I just feel like the biggest asshole for doing this to Jalen because even though he’s not the best boyfriend, he’s still a good guy. I don’t know…”

I take a deep breath after that, looking at Paige’s face for any sign of disgust.

“Aniyah, I…” she starts.

“See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I told you it was stupid! I knew you didn’t feel the same, and I opened my mouth anyways,” I quickly backtrack.

“Paige, I’m sorry, I’m just acting all crazy because Gigi’s birthday dinner's in a few days, and I have an early exam tomorrow, just super busy with things! Again, so sorry I-“

I’m quickly cut off by the feeling of Paige’s lips crashing onto mine and her arms wrapping around my waist.

“Don’t apologize for anything,” she breathes out in between kisses.

After a good minute or two of deep kisses, we break apart with our foreheads touching. I bring my arms around her neck while hers stay around my waist, rubbing the material of my black mini dress.

The air around us feels charged with electricity as we stand there, our breaths mingling in the warm night air. Paige's touch sends shivers down my spine, and I find myself lost in the moment, forgetting everything else except her and the connection between us.

"Aniyah," Paige whispers, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of music and chatter from the party.

"Yeah?" I respond softly, my heart still racing from the intensity of our kiss.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she admits, her blue eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation or regret.

“Same,” I smile, and we both laugh.

“This… this is not a good idea,” I sigh out.

“Probably,” she jokes. “But I really wanna kiss you again, so maybe let’s have this conversation in the morning,” Paige tilts her head back down to kiss me again.

I squeal, “Paige! Hold on, Jalen’s still here. So is literally everyone else.”

“C’monnn.. Jalen’s probably blacked out or cross-faded by now. Let’s just sneak past everybody…” She leans down, kissing up my neck.

“I… Paige..” I breathe out.

“Hm?”

“Seriously.. hold on two seconds. Just let me check on him.”

She rolls her eyes sassily, gripping my waist again, “Fine.”

I pull her hands off my waist, interlocking our fingers and dragging her with me back into the house full of drunken young adults. We continue to weave our way through the house finally getting to the room packed full of loud frat guys, including Jalen.

As Paige predicted, Jalen’s 6’3 self passed out on the couch surrounded by his friends in equal states.

“I fuckin’ told you dude,” Paige nudges me with her elbow.

“Shut up!” I laugh turning around and pushing her back slightly.

She grips my wrist, pulling me into her body. “Now can we…? You know..” she says smirking.

I burst out laughing, “Yes! Jesus, you—horndog.”

“The fuck is a horndog, bruh?” She replies chuckling.

“Girl I don’t know! And by the way, don’t call me ‘bruh’ when you’re trying to shove your fingers ins-“

Slapping a hand over my mouth, “Okay okay!”

We both laugh to ourselves as we stumble up the stairs with our mouths attached, bumping into walls and pictures along the way. Finally reaching my room and falling through the doorway.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #women’s basketball #wlw smut #paige bueckers #jalen suggs #black reader #oc #kehlani #kiana lede

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stormhearty · 4 months

Text

Thank U, Next

Pairings: Modern!Azriel x Reader, Modern!Azriel x OC, Modern!Eris x Reader

Word Count: 5k+

Triggers: mentions cheating, mentions of bullying, insecurities, cursing, name calling (bitch, asshole, whore, etc.)

Summary: (Y/N), part of the new nouveau riche, grew up with a golden spoon in her mouth, the typical popular girl but with a heart of gold, the art curator. Azriel, part of the famous billionaire boys club, the popular silent, stoic member who gets the girls’ hearts, is the model. You and Azriel have been together for over two years, a couple known throughout the city. However, your relationship with Azriel starts to become distant, and you notice the lingering gazes and touches of a person you believe to be your friend, things start to become heated and you lose yourself in heated words. You think that romance will never find your way again, only to find it in someone you never thought you’d have one with.

Note: From this request! Thank you anon for this amazing suggestion! I do hope this does your request justice! I am so sorry this has taken so long! It was kind of difficult to write this, mostly because you had such a specific vision that I tried to follow it. And as I was writing this, I don’t know if it is as angsty as it should be… and Azriel is an asshole in this one, I’m sorry. But also, sorry this got really long...

“Where are they?!” Mor snarled out as she stepped into the foyer of your condo, brown eyes darting around the place before focusing on you and Feyre who sat on the couch — your head tucked into her neck as you cried.

Feyre looked at the blonde, the two of them communicating wordlessly before Mor simmered down, walking over to where the two of you sat. Mor rounded the couch before kneeling in front of the two of you, a hand coming up to rub your arm.

“Hey, baby girl…” Mor whispered as if talking to a small child.

You let out a sniff as you lifted your head from Feyre’s shoulder and locked eyes with brown and you couldn’t help but pout, “…Mor…” you whimpered, the heartbreak evident in your voice.

The female gave you a small smile as she reached up to run a hand through your disheveled locks, “I did tell you that Lilianne girl was bad news…” Mor tried to sound lighthearted, and all you did was give out a chuckle — one so broken that it tugged on both Feyre’s and Mor’s heartstrings.

You nodded your head, “…Yeah… you were right, Mor… I should have listened…” you mumbled as you straightened up, hands unwrapping themselves from Feyre’s waist, flopping them onto your lap as you picked at your nails — a habit you never seem to have grown out of.

Mor shook her head and peered up to you, catching your eye, “You had very good intentions, (Y/N)… You wanted nothing more than a friend to meet your boyfriend. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that. It was their fault that they galivanted behind your back… And that Lilianne girl…” There was a growl in the blonde’s tone mentioning that name, “Planned it ever since she set eyes on Azriel… You are not at fault for this, okay? She’s a bitch and he’s an asshole, end of story.”

You felt your lower lip wobble as more tears cascaded down your cheeks and you felt Mor wipe them away, and Feyre gently rubbing your back.

You felt like your whole world was breaking, that you didn’t know what was real or not, what was truth and what was fake — it was a whole whirlwind of different emotions running through you.

You didn’t understand why.

You couldn’t understand why Azriel had decided to cheat on you with Lilianne and you couldn’t understand why Lilianne decided to betray your trust by going after your boyfriend. And you couldn’t understand why Azriel thought you were the one bullying Lilianne. She was your friend (well you thought she was your friend), you were the one who befriended her and reached out to her when no one wouldn’t. And yet she decided to break that friendship.

What you couldn’t wrap your mind around was the bullying accusation. You were never mean to anyone, never hurt anyone — especially not Lilianne. But yet Azriel indicated that you out of all people, would be bullying Lilianne.

You didn’t pay a second thought about any bullying accusation — because you knew it wasn’t true. What had hurt the most was the fact that Azriel believed it without a second thought. Didn’t even ask you if the rumors were true — he regarded the rumors as accurate with conviction. And the fact that Lilianne didn’t say anything to refute those rumors was even more astounding.

The memory caused you to sob more, pressing the heels of your palm into your eyes, trying to stop the tears from overflowing.

“What did I do wrong?” you whispered, a rhetorical question you weren’t expecting your friends to answer, “I never bullied anyone… I would never do that. And yet…

“Azriel believed that. Why would he think I, out of all people, would bully someone whom I consider my friend?”

You felt gentle hands come to hold your wrist and you were turned; you looked up to see bright blue gentle hues staring down at you.

“We wouldn’t know, (Y/N)… And I don’t want to speculate that Lilianne had to do something with it —-”

“That bitch probably made herself the victim, those bruises on her arms looked fucking fake, to begin with. All she wanted was to play into Azriel’s fucking hero complex and it fucking worked, acting like the innocent dumb bitch she is and — -”

“— - Mor…” Feyre chided lightly, eyes glancing at the blonde while Mor huffed before she shrugged, making herself comfortable on the floor, hands gently soothingly rubbing your knees. Feyre focused back on you as she held your wrist in her hands, thumb circling your pulse points, “(Y/N), I would suggest not thinking about it… Like Mor said, you are not at fault for their actions against you. We know those bullying accusations are false, Mor and I know you would never hurt anyone. And you know you didn’t do those things… that’s all that matters. And if Azriel decides those are true without evidence then it’s his fault.”

“Just leave him, (Y/N)…” Mor suggested, “Better yourself… for yourself. Don’t rely on him to make your person happy. Show him… Show him that you are the better person, make him fucking regret choosing that bitch over you…”

You looked between the two of them, the Cheshire grin on Mor’s features making you laugh. Your laughter made the air more light and Mor and Feyre felt their shoulder relax, glad that you were laughing again.

You nodded your head, “I want to do that… I want to be better… for myself, not for anyone else.”

Feyre ran her fingers through your hair, “Then do that… We’ll be right beside you the whole way…”

It had been a year after that breakup, that confrontation between you, Lilianne, and Azriel. You had moved on to better yourself — for you.

You started to get more artist deals to work with you and showcase their talents underneath you. (Y/N), the famous art curator. Your galleries were top-notch, high quality, and showcased your artist’s works. It was to the point people had booked you months in advance to even try to talk to you to work with them.

You traveled more out of the city, meeting new people, and seeing new places that you never would have if you were still with Azriel.

It was freeing — your new life finally settling down at your feet. One that was filled with happiness and love from your friends and family. You were more confident and self-reliant than ever.

It was rare for you to run into Lilianne and Azriel, you made sure that you wouldn’t run into them. But it was inevitable, all three of you were in the same social circles.

Galleries, balls — any high-class social events you always saw them. You had stuck with Mor, Feyre, and her boyfriend, Rhysand. And the three of them shielded and protected you from the two.

It was Lilianne who seemed to want to flaunt her relationship with Azriel in front of your face, clinging onto his arm and pressing kisses on his cheeks.

“All I want to do is pound her face to the ground…” Mor had grunted out into your ear one night when you all were at the Starlight Ball, a large high elite gathering on the longest night of the year.

You couldn’t help but giggle, shaking your head at your friend, “It’s been a year already, Mor… It doesn’t bother me anymore. And besides, that would land you right into jail… I don’t think I have enough bail to get you out…”

Mor grinned, “I know, but it still irks me. Also, I have ways to stay out, (Y/N). Don’t worry you’re pretty head about it.”

The two of you were at a corner of the grand room, watching bodies weave in and out of the room, twirling in the center of the grand ballroom. You paid little attention to the two love birds that seemed to be under the spotlight, pressing the rim of the champagne to your rouge lips.

Eyes wandered the room, recognizing familiar and unfamiliar faces in the dim room. However, when you saw a familiar redhead, you couldn’t help but smile. Placing the champagne glass down on the table, you slipped away from the trio, weaving your body through the crowd before you stood behind the male.

“When did you arrive?”

You watched as the male straightened up before turning around, Eris gave you his signature smile — disregarding his conversation with the people behind him.

“(Y/N), starshine!”

You gave a bright smile as he stepped closer to you and wrapped you in his arms, as your own wrapped around his neck. Eris always seemed to have a habit of picking you up and spinning you whenever you greeted him.

A princess is what you are, and a princess is how you will be greeted, he always reminded you when you had asked him the first few times.

A giggle escaped your lips as he did the twirl before setting you back on your feet, ensuring you wouldn’t trip over your heels. Your hands slid from his neck down his chest, fixing the silk lapels of his ebony suit as his own hands remained on your waist.

“It’s so good to see you, starshine…” Eris mused as he gently guided you away from the group of CEOs he was conversing with to the side of the grand ballroom, away from prying eyes. Where he could be alone with you, despite being in a large room with hundreds of people.

It was no secret that Eris held affection for you. The two of you started as friends when Rhysand and Feyre introduced the two of you all those months ago when you started to travel the world. It was hard to see him, being the CEO-to-be of his company, the eldest son of the Vanserra clan. But it was always enjoyable whenever you did get to see him, like tonight.

“I just came in this morning… So I’m a bit tired, but seeing you always wipes that exhaustion away…” he hummed out with a smile, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, Eris…” your cheeks heated up, and you hoped that the dim lighting didn’t give them away to the heir, “And you still came to the ball? You could have skipped it.”

“Why would I? When I get to see you, (Y/N).” he pointed out, his hand coming up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears.

You felt your cheeks glow hotter as you averted your eyes from the male, your heart pounding against your chest.

And it was no secret that you held affection for the redhead. His charming self seemed to have wormed his way into your heart, filling the void that was ripped away from you. You had opted to say away from relationships after Azriel’s betrayal, the wound still fresh to be in any sort of commitment. But Eris was someone who started to fill in that gap, slowly but surely throughout the year.

The song then changed to a waltz and you felt Eris’s hand slide down from the side of your face, down your neck, and your arms before gently grasping your hands, tugging you from your spot. Eyes locked on his, he led you to the dance floor, gently handling you to the proper position — his hand on your waist while the other grasping onto your hand.

Eris started to move, your feet following his step as all you could focus on was on him. The world slowed, the two of you lost in each other — a fleeting but eternal moment. As if the room around you started to blur together, leaving the two of you to bask in your moment together. However, that moment was ripped away from you when you felt hands grasp your shoulder, pulling you away from the male.

Wide-eyed, you looked at the person — -

“Azriel — - what the fuck — -”

He didn’t know what had overcome him. Azriel was spending the night with his lovely Lilianne, the girl that he had fallen in love with, despite being with you.

However, when he had watched you step away from Mor and Feyre, hazel eyes watched as you went into the arms of the redhead and all Azriel saw, from that point forward, was red. He had no idea why he felt like that — as if his chest was caving in on him, the ache raw and fresh.

He shouldn’t feel like that, his subconscious chided him, not when he had left you for someone else. Not when he had accused you of hurting someone else.

But all Azriel could think that it should have been him that was sweeping you away in this grand hall, having you in his arms, his body pressing against your own as you two danced the night away.

You were always his girl.

The girl who had broken him out of his shell; the girl that he’d send flowers to every day, without fail; the girl who would surprise him during his long photoshoot days with his favorite takeout; the girl who would hold him when his mother’s death anniversary came around each year; the girl who would be by his side when these long parties happened; the girl that he would press kisses to when you laid in bed with him after a long day; the girl he didn’t mind listening to all day long when you told him how your day was or even just talked about anything and everything.

You were his.

That part of him that had loved and cared for you started to crawl out from his subconscious and caused him to act on those actions — though this action seemed more possessive than an act of romance.

He felt his feet drag him away from Lilianne towards the two of you in the middle of that dance floor. He felt his hand grab your shoulder and rip you away from the redhead, from the corner of his eye, seeing the flash of surprise on your features.

All Azriel wanted to do was hurt Eris Vanserra… all because he got too close to you.

“Stay the fuck away from her, Vanserra…” Azriel growled out, stepping in front of you and pressing a finger against Eris’s chest.

The music abruptly stopped, chords becoming dissonant; all eyes set on the three of you. Parting way into a circle to keep away from the drama.

You couldn’t help but stare wide-eyed at Azriel, momentarily stunned as he continued to step boundaries with the Vanserra heir.

“You keep your hands away from (Y/N), you hear me? Don’t you fucking touch her, don’t go fucking near her…”

Eris, calm and poised as ever, raised a brow and looked at the model, “And why, Azriel, do you care if I am with (Y/N)? Shouldn’t you be with your little girlfriend over there? She seems stunned about your actions right now…” he waved a hand towards Lilianne, who stood at the edge of that very circle, a surprised look on her features

Azriel barely acknowledged the girl as all his focus was on Eris, “I care because I…” the words seemed to die out in his throat and Eris couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“You care because of what, Azriel?” he mocked the male, “Oh, you shouldn’t because (Y/N) is not in a relationship with you anymore. Not after what you had done to her last year…”

Eris stepped in front of Azriel, leaving little room between the two of them. Hazel and amber hues stared each other down, “You can’t tell me not to stay away from (Y/N), you have no fucking right to say what is best for her… Not anymore.”

The Vanserra heir stepped to the side, brushing Azriel before moving towards you and gently grasping your shoulders, asking if you were alright.

Azriel felt his body shake in so much rage.

How dare Eris just ignore him like that.

How dare Eris gently hold you in his arms.

That fury made him whip around and face the two of you, hazel eyes glimmering with fury, “I told you to fucking stay away from her…” he snarled.

Eris sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, partially shielding you from Azriel’s temper, “Like I said, Azriel, you had no right after last year’s little bullying accusation. Not when you had sided with Lilianne over (Y/N).”

“That is none of your business, Eris —-” the male started.

The Vanserra heir laughed before glaring at the other, “Oh yes, it is my business, Azriel. Not when (Y/N) was hurting so much because of it.”

“Eris… it’s okay,” you murmured, stopping him from going any further. You glanced at Azriel, though his gaze was focused on Eris. You placed a hand against his chest, “I’m fine now… Can we go, please?”

The male looked down at you as you looked up at him, a tiny smile on your features as he leaned down and pressed a kiss on the crown of your head. Turning your body so that the two of you can leave Azriel in his simmering anger.

However, Azriel had a different plan — his temper blinding him, “You don’t get to walk away, Vanserra…” he hissed, “Take your hands off of her and leave.”

You paused mid-step, feeling your anger starting to rise in your stomach.

Enough was enough.

“What’s your problem, Azriel?” you couldn’t help but ask, turning once more to face your ex, “You have no right to talk to Eris like that. You have no right to try to say what is good for me… We are not together anymore and so you lost all that right.”

Azriel’s gaze went from pure anger to puzzlement, brows scrunched together as he looked at you, “(Y/N), I just don’t want him to hurt you…”

A bewildered laugh escaped your lips, your brows raising, “Like how you hurt me? Eris has done nothing in the year I’ve known him to possibly hurt me. And you can’t hurt me anymore, Azriel, I’ve gotten over you, gotten over the hurt you’ve inflicted on me. You have no say in what I do, on who I see, on who I fall in love with.”

“If this is you holding a grudge over me because I chose Lilianne over you, you are one petty person, (Y/N).”

You stepped up, about to counter when Eris swiftly moved from your side to grab Azriel’s collar in pure rage.

“Look here you little piece of shit…” Eris hissed, “(Y/N) has every right to hold a grudge over you over that. You chose another girl over your girlfriend. You chose to believe the fucking lies that that girl had told to you — without any fucking evidence besides made-up bruises. I have seen the photos, I have seen the ‘evidence’ that Lilianne decided to post to try to bring (Y/N) down, and for your fucking information, Azriel, they looked fake. Do you think that (Y/N) would have bullied that girl? I’ve known (Y/N) for a little over a year, and there is no fucking indication that she would ever bully or hurt anyone.

“Did you ever think after all the years you’ve known (Y/N), that she would hurt anyone? No. You know that, in your fucking subconscious, she would never lay a finger against someone — especially if she thought of that someone as a friend.”

Eris pushed Azriel down, causing the other to land on the ground with a thump. The heir looked down at him, his fury simmering down, “You are a coward, Azriel. You can’t be up here and try to do what is best for (Y/N) when you have thrown everything away when it comes to her. Now I suggest going back to your little girlfriend and leaving (Y/N) alone. You’ve done it before, so do it again.”

With one last glare, Eris turned on his heels, stepping next to you.

You stood next to Eris, feeling the male wrap an arm around your waist. You stared at Azriel one more time, “… I hope you can be happy, Azriel. My last wish to you is that…”

And with that, you turned your heels and let Eris guide you out of the room, leaving Azriel in that grand room.

Eris had led you to the balcony, the fresh, crisp, cool air greeting you.

Stepping out of his hold, you went to the railing and placed your hands on the cooling concrete, leaning over slightly, your head tilted up to look at the twinkling lights.

The silence between you and the CEO-to-be was nice, as your ears were still thrumming after that encounter with Azriel. Closing your eyes, you calmed your heart and allowed the air to let the adrenaline slip from your body.

“… Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

A hum escaped your throat as you opened your eyes, turning over your shoulder to look at Eris. He looked hesitant to approach you, standing a few steps back from you. You gave him a nod, a smile tugging on your lips, “Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fine… I’m done crying over him. Like I said, I moved on and it’s the happiest I’ve been.”

You heard his footsteps moving closer to you before feeling his frame next to yours. You turned your head, looking at his profile that seemed to illuminate in the moon’s light — he was handsome in this lighting, you had thought.

Feeling your gaze upon him, he turned to look at you, amber hues assessing your features before fully turning to you, a hand coming up to place on your cheek. You couldn’t help but lean into the warmth from his palm, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist so you could press closer to it. You let out a shaky breath, calming your nerves — calming your heart — to savor this moment with him.

“You know… I can’t help but wonder…” he uttered as he brought you close to him, again, wrapping his arm around your waist, “When you said to fall in love with… Who were you referring to?”

You had just calmed your heart down, only to have it start to pound against your chest at his question. You attempted to divert your gaze, only to have him shift his hand to gently grasp your chin to keep your eyes at him, “Eyes on me, starshine…”

Scrunching your nose up at him, a habit you developed when you were around Eris, you stared up at him, getting lost in those amber hues.

You were hesitant, of course.

How could you not be? When Eris was looking at you as if you were the entire world at his fingertips.

Your other hand met your own, both of your hands now locked around his wrist as you peered up at him, “… Are you expecting something, Eris?” you couldn’t help but lightly tease him, trying to move around your beating heart.

Feeling his chuckle against his chest, he brought you close to the point where there was no more space between the two of you, the skirt of your gown shifting against his ankles, “I would like to think so, (Y/N)…” he whispered, his forehead pressing against your own, feeling his breath mingling with yours, “You wouldn’t say those words to that jerk if it wasn’t true, right?”

Despite the chilled wind that blew, you felt warm against Eris. His large form blocked any of the wind that would blow your way. You had felt safe with him.

Your hands slid up his arms and chest before you gently cupped his cheeks, your thumb grazing over the skin just underneath his eyes. You took in his features and committed them to memory — as if he might disappear before your very eyes if you were to utter the next words that threatened to slip your lips.

“— - Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true…” you agreed with him.

“So…? Who’s the lucky, devilishly handsome guy that you had fallen in love with?”

There it was, the confidence that oozed out of Eris always seemed to sweep you off your feet, throwing you off balance. It was one of the many qualities that had attracted you to him in the first place.

He knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t afraid of getting it.

You tip-toed up slightly, so your lips hovered over his own. You glanced at those lips before staring back up into amber eyes, watching his own eyes graze your lips before locking back into your eyes.

“… I think you already know, Eris Vanserra…” you uttered, pressing your lips against his for a split second before pulling away, “It’s you…”

Eris didn’t have to say anything else and grasped the back of your neck to pull your lips back onto his, sealing your confession with a kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, as you felt him lift you by the waist and gently placed you on that concrete railing, never once breaking that kiss.

When your lungs screamed for air, you pulled away, panting as you felt Eris stare up at you.

He looked up into your eyes, seeing the sparkles of stardust in them as if they were a reflection of the stars above both of you. Eris watched as that magnificent smile tugged at your lips, one that was mimicked on his own, “… And I have fallen in love with you as well, (Y/N). Over this year, my heart couldn’t help but reach out to yours. I knew you were healing, I wanted to give you time… Truly I did. But I couldn’t help it, you are as glorious as the stars above us… The world needed you before I could grasp you in my hands. And you blossomed, into this confident woman, like a phoenix that rose from its ashes.”

He watched as tears streaked your beautiful face, and he cooed, wiping them away with his thumb as you leaned over to press your forehead against his own.

“I wanted you, so badly… But I needed you to want me back, (Y/N). So I could see that you had moved on, that you could move on without regret… So that you can love me with that whole heart of yours.”

You sniffed, gripping onto his shoulders, “And I do love you with all my heart, Eris… You have filled in that void that was empty inside of me for so long… I don’t regret falling in love with you… I regret not knowing and falling in love with you sooner.”

Eris smiled at you, pressing a kiss on your tear-stained cheek, “Well, we have the rest of our lives to make up for that…”

You nodded your head, as you felt him lean closer to you and press another kiss onto your lips, the stars above you twinkling.

It had been a month after that fateful night at the Starlight Ball, after your confession to Eris. You had become more busy than ever — more galleries to plan, more artists to meet, and more venues to scout.

Eris seemed to be busy too, his father had deteriorated much quicker than anticipated and so his CEO duties have gone through the roof — more meetings with board members and dealing with his cumbersome brothers.

Both of you also were dealing with the repercussions of that Starlight Ball fiasco with Azriel. The news outlet seemed to have caught wind and investigated the matter that happened a year ago.

The truth was eventually uncovered — Lilianne confessed that she had planned everything, that she wanted to take everything that you had, especially when it came to Azriel. She had been jealous of the fact that your life was perfect, and wanted to see it burn to the ground.

You and Eris stayed far away from that — Eris especially became quite overprotective, worrying that you might spiral back down into a depressive state. However, you had gotten stronger, and more confident, the news barely grazed you and you continued with your life, head held high.

Waving goodbye to Feyre and Rhysand, the couple stepped out of the empty building leaving you alone in its echoing walls. The three of you were looking for a venue to showcase Feyre’s newest art pieces and it seemed that the couple settled on this one in particular. You had always loved working with Feyre, she was one of your first clients when you had become an art curator. And so when she asked you to help her find the perfect place for a new art gallery, you were excited.

Letting out a sigh, you took your phone out of your bag and walked out of the building, ready to text Eris to pick you up when you crashed into a body, your feet stumbling underneath you.

Familiar hands grasped your upper arms and you looked up to see Azriel — a more disheveled Azriel from the looks of it.

“Azriel… what the—-”

“Please listen to me, (Y/N)…” Azriel all but begged.

You closed your mouth, a brow raised as you crossed your arms across your chest, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I… I was so stupid to believe Lilianne and the bullying accusation.”

It seemed that the truth finally reached Azriel’s ears.

“I should have known that you wouldn’t have done it. I was so… blinded about someone getting hurt that I didn’t think rationally. That I didn’t think in general. That my stupid actions caused me to lose you and your love entirely.”

He looked at you, pain shown through his hazel eyes, and yet he was taken aback when you looked at him with such indifference.

“Why are you here Azriel?” you asked, your tone straightforward, “If you’re here just to apologize then you’re late for it.”

You attempted to step around him, only to have Azriel step in front of you once more, his features begging you to continue to listen.

A sigh escaped your lips, “I swear to Mother, Azriel, if you don’t leave me alone, I will be calling Eris to deal with you…”

“No! No… Please just hear me out, (Y/N). Just for a few more moments…” he pleaded.

You looked at him with brows scrunched before you stepped back, waving a hand for him to continue.

“I regret it… I regret choosing her over you. Like I said, I was blind. This past month…” he shook his head, “No, this past year I realized how stupid I was for choosing her. She was nothing but a clingy person who was self-absorbed and worried about herself. You are nothing like her — you are self-reliant, kind-hearted, confident — the total opposite of her. It was no wonder why she tried to bring you down…” He looked at you before he dropped down onto his knees and you were taken aback, “I’m so sorry… if there’s any way you could forgive me… take me back, I’d do anything for you…”

It was a sight — Azriel groveling onto the ground at your feet. A frown tugged at the edge of your lips, “Get up Azriel… You’re making yourself a fool.”

He nodded his head, slowly getting back up to his feet.

You stared at him before a sigh escaped your lips, “… Like I said, you’re too late to apologize, Azriel… A year too late to be groveling like this. And you think I’d take you back? After everything you’ve done? After I’m happy with Eris? Why would I give that up to go back to you, and worry if you’d betray me like that again?”

He nodded again, though he didn’t say another word.

“… Look at me Azriel…”

With hesitation, he lifted his head to look at you.

“You can regret all you want, you can try to win me back as much as you want… but I will never take you back… I can never trust you again…” You looked at him dead in the eye, “… Like I said at the Starlight Ball… I hope you can be happy, Azriel. Please don’t seek me out again, don’t come near me again… That’s all I ask of you…”

When Azriel didn’t say anything anymore, you sidestepped him and noticed Eris a few meters behind him. You noticed on how held back he was when he saw Azriel, noticed amber eyes glaring into the back of the other male’s head before his gaze turned to yours, those eyes softening.

You have him a bright smile, your feet speeding up to hug him, comforting him in silence. You felt him press a kiss on the crown of your head before moving so he could gently escort you into the car, leaving Azriel standing on the crosswalk.

The car roared to life when Eris moved to the driver side, and you looked at him and he looked at you, a smile on his features as he reached over to hold your hand, pressing a kiss on the back of it before he drove away.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel angst #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris fluff #eris angst #eris acotar #azriel acotar #( .inbox request : thank u next )#( .inbox request )

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queenofbaws · 5 days

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! Pride Month Challenge 2024 !

Well hi there, everyone! With May winding down to a close and June just around the corner, it's about that time again...the time where @jadedsunshine, @unicornaffair, and I host our yearly create-a-thon! 🥳

What's the Pride Month Challenge, you might find yourself asking? Well, this year it's a little bingo game we've put together, featuring some classic tropes. The aim of this particular game? Make something!!! Anything! Just get those creative juices a-flowin' and see if you can snag a B-I-N-G-O along the way!

This challenge is open to everyone and anyone who wants to take part, whether you know the three of us or not! We're going to be using the tag #pridemonthchallenge2024 for the stuff we create, so if you decide to join in on the fun and games, feel free to stick that tag on whatever you make, too! If you're interested in more details, you can check below the cut or reach out and ask ;)c

Either way, happy almost-pride, and happy creating!!!

I don't write fic - can I still participate?

Ab. So. Lutely!!! We've done this challenge for a few years now (we've missed a year or two for weddings and other life stuff, whoops!), but in the past we've had people doodle, sketch, draw, make edits, create props or other physical art, and even curate playlists! The three of us are writers, so you're very likely to see fic or ficlets from us...but you? Oh. Oh, you can do whatever your heart desires!!!

Are there word limits/expectations for a finished product?

NO!!! :D Zero. Literally zero expectations. We aren't putting together an exchange, we aren't holding a competition, we're just trying to get the spirit of creation in the air. That's it! So whether you're writing 50 words or 5,000, whether you've made a rough sketch on a notebook page or fully lined/colored a scene, you're good! You're so good. As long as you've made something, you've earned a stamp on that bingo card, baby!!!

What if I don't want to do something fandom-y? Can it be OCs/original work?

OF COURSE!!! 100%. You don't even have to ask!!! Show the world your OCs! Tell the world about your story's worldbuilding! It's all fair game :)

What if I don't want to post what I made?

Don't sweat it! Again, this is...the farthest thing from official. This is for fun, and this is for the sake of making something. Sharing your work can be nerve-wracking - don't feel like you have to! We'd love to see you playing along with us, of course, but as long as you've made something that you're proud of, you've earned that stamp! No ifs, ands, or buts!

Is it cool if my creations aren't necessarily pride-themed?

Totally! We host this challenge during pride month because (1) it traditionally works better for the three of us than NaNoWriMo because of our schedules, and (2) we're queer creators ourselves! But if you're feeling a prompt and can't find a way to make it relevant to pride, PLEASE don't sweat it! As I've been known to say (and then get laughed at for saying), this challenge is no rules, just right, Outback Steakhouse :P

Let's say I get a bingo...what do I win?

:) Nothing. <3

Wait, really?

:) Really <3 Hehehe, in all seriousness, this challenge has been a fun way for us to sit down, take our minds off of life and our bigger projects and just...make some fun stuff! In our humble opinion(s), being able to point at a finished piece and say "I did that! I made that!" is its own kind of reward. The bingo board itself is really more for bragging rights ;)c Which, of course, we encourage wholeheartedly. Nothing wrong with a little bragging!!!

We hope to have you along for our month-long adventure! Again, we're going to be using the tag #pridemonthchallenge2024 for our own stuff, so if you'd like to use that tag - or tag any of us!!! - in whatever you end up creating, feel free!!! We love seeing what everyone comes up with, and this challenge is always so much more fun, knowing other people are taking part! <3 Hope to see you along for the ride!

*The bingo board was made by the lovely @jadedsunshine 🥰

#pridemonthchallenge2024 #queenie writes challenge stuff #<- i'll also be sticking that tag onto the things /i/ make personally in case anyone wants to blacklist or keep an eye out!#PLEASE feel free to reblog and PLEASE feel even freer to play along at home!!!#we love doing this challenge so so much and we're so excited to get back into it!!!

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visionofvoid · 1 year

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Limelight - LS18

Summary: “you’ll get your flowers my dear.”

Warnings: some shameless flirting, a cocky oc

Pairings: lance stroll x oc

Word Count: 1311

She recalled the first time she ever encountered the Stroll family.

It was at a joint gala to raise money for children with terminal illnesses and her parents, who were incredibly notable in the car collection and curating community, wished to donate a 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429 in a cherry red colour. It was one of the most expensive items up for grabs and had all its original interior in pristine condition. It gained quite a number of public attention, for a good reason, and all donations were given to the foundation they were sponsoring. It was that night that a young Piper Broadstone had encountered a young Lance Stroll, the boy in his late teens and too cool to speak to girls.

It wasn’t until years later that the two families attended yet another high profile event, this time with Piper placing a bet and winning a one-on-one date and drive with Lance Stroll himself. She wasn’t too sure on how she would organise this one-on-one date as she found herself drinking too much champagne and dancing with her mother and friends. She honestly could have approached Lance but instead chose to admire from a distance, sneaking a look whenever she could.

Piper had honestly forgotten about the auction until she received a message request in her private messages on her Instagram.

lance_ stroll: you know, if you really wanted to come for a cruise or a date you could have just messaged me on this

and its free too

Piper admired his cheeky flirting and it seemed that he was also somewhat eager to see what the date had to offer. Of course it was all up to Lance to provide the date and to showcase his driving skills, all Piper had to do was dress the part and just show up.

itspiperbroadstone: i did it for the kids, mr stroll, don’t let it get to your head

kind of silly that you had to ask for an auction to get me to go on a date with you. you could have messaged me on this

lance_stroll: bold of you to assume i want a date with you

itspiperbroadstone: why else would you message me at nine at night out of nowhere?

lance_stroll: touche

tomorrow at 11am, casual, braided hair may be best (car purposes only)

do you prefer lunch or dinner for the date?

itspiperbroadstone: we love a dominant king

lets do food after the drive tomorrow, you know, make sure it’s all in one day otherwise you might fall in love with me

lance_stroll: im certain you’ll be falling for me

our parents will love the combined fortune

itspiperbroadstone: old money nepo babies

pick me up in the vantage xoxo

i want flowers too

i paid 50k i should at least get some flowers

lance_stroll: you’ll get your flowers my dear

Casual to someone like Piper was a lot different to someone that didn’t live in an expensive penthouse in Canada. Of course Piper understood that casual was just a term to dress a lot more relaxed but she still needed to dress to impress. She followed the latest trends and embarrassingly fed into fast fashion so she was dressed all in just a pair of jeans with a baggy graphic shirt to pair. It was a nice sunny day so she neglected to bring a jacket as she walked out of her apartment complex, bidding her doorman a farewell and towards the Aston Martin Vantage she could only guess was Lance’s.

He was leaning against his car, also in a rather casual outfit in a pair of jeans, brown boots and an all grey shirt. In his hands he held a bouquet of flowers, a mix of daisies, babies breath, camellias and a few other variations. He wore a large smile on his face as Piper approached, embracing the girl in a quick and gentle hug, a kiss to the cheek and then pulled away gracefully.

“I wasn’t too sure what flowers you liked so I got a bit of everything.” Lance confessed, though he had secretly looked through all of her social media to find some sort of hint. It was in her highlights.

“Thank you, Lance. They’re beautiful.” Piper hated to admit that she was blushing and instead hid her face in the flowers, disguising the action by sniffing the flowers. They smelled incredibly fresh. There was nothing like the smell of fresh flowers. “So, what have you got planned for us today?” Lance opened her door like a gentleman and held her flowers as she strapped herself in before closing the door when she was settled. He ran to the other side, climbing into the passenger seat and started his car, one of his prized possessions.

“Well, I have a couple of cars for me to drive you around in at the track and then I’ll see how you go-”

“Driving one? You're letting me drive a Formula One car?” Lance chuckled in response, pulling into the lane and heading towards the Montreal track.

“No, you can’t operate one of those. I’ve got a couple of other cars, much safer cars to take you in and for you to drive.” Lance’s eyes remained on the road for the most part as they drove through town. His car was enough to get some stairs and rightfully so; it was a beautiful car, anyone could appreciate that, and it was the biggest flex of all. Not many people owned a car such as the vantage, not even Piper of her family, though they did own a few Aston Martins. She looked out at the window, admiring the city she was born and raised in. The two settled into a peaceful silence as they continued to the track. It was not awkward, at least from Piper’s perspective.

The 'Date’ was great PR for not only Piper and Lance but for their families, for the charity in which the money from the bid was going to and for Formula One itself. There were film crews at the ready, organised photographers to capture the two in and out of the cars, cameras and microphones set up inside the cars to capture the reactions of the two.

Piper was genuinely enjoying herself, even though her braided hair was becoming a mess and she laughed rather obnoxiously in front of Lance.

Lance was also having a great time. He never really got to show off his skills in older modelled cars let alone with a pretty girl beside him. He liked to glance over as he drifted around a corner, watching her absolutely lose herself into the atmosphere. It was something he found himself wanting to see more, yearning to see more. So, he hated it when their drive had ended and it was Piper’s turn to drive.

She got into the first car, the pair strapping themselves in. She quickly posed for a camera pointing towards them and then turned on the ignition.

“You can drive stick?” Lance questioned, Piper only nodding in response before taking off. She had devised a plan, starting off slow to get Lance to think she was nervous. She took it easy around the corners before she found herself approaching the hairpin after turn nine. She started accelerating, going faster and faster by the second before drifting the car almost expertly around the hairpin and turn ten. She couldn’t wait to see the footage once it was released of Lance's reaction. She finished the circuit, stopping at the pit in front of the cameras and getting out, throwing her hands in the air almost as if she was a racer herself.

“Where did you learn to drive like that?” Lance questioned once the two of them were finally helmet free.

“My parents are car collectors and curators, you learn a thing or two.”

#f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 #lance stroll x reader #lance stroll #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll x oc #formula one smut #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #formula one #formula 1

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thetiniestfangirl · 3 months

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i’m sleepless and delirious so i thought fuck it. i’m finally gonna share my aftg oc i’ve been sitting on for nearly three years now with y’all. why now? because i’m really proud of her.

warning, this runs the risk of portraying some characters as ooc so i’d love to hear what parts stood out to you as such so i can amend it. second warning, this is batshit. but that’s why we love aftg, right?

anyhoo. our story begins back in the days where wymack was hooking up with kayleigh. now we know man’s was a slut way back when, so what was to stop him from unintentionally siring another baby with a toxic french women?

this introduces us to darcy, wymack’s daughter and kevin’s half sister that neither know exists. she’s raised by her alcoholic mother, who carries a disdain for both her child and exy. this leads darcy to start playing it as a way to escape her mother’s house and it soon becomes her favourite thing in the world.

this is where her backstory takes a bit of inspiration from fezco’s on euphoria. darcy’s mother drinks herself to death and the little girl is taken in by her mother’s sister, a drug dealer. darcy starts off as a mule in her aunt’s ring but slowly rises in the ranks; she’s as skilled in her science and maths as well as she is with a shotgun. she aiming to succeed her aunt’s role when she steps down but when celine (her aunt) sees how good a striker she is, she applies darcy for the fox scholarship at palmetto.

the foxes are not at all what she’s expecting. they’re a shit team and going nowhere fast. not about to throw away the fresh start she’s been handed, darcy throws herself into curating a new image for herself. college athletics is all about branding, right? and the girl knows a thing or two about marketing. she becomes an easy fan favourite overnight, adored for her charm in interviews, her skill and sass on the court and her #relatabilty on social media. she’s a performer and a good one at that.

but the girl isn’t perfect. she’s smiling at cameras and sneering back at her teammates. she’s angry, violently so. it’s the kind of anger that bubbles under the skin until it explodes. though she completely renounces her dealing, she still hangs on to her pistols (she’s liscensed and registered). just in case.

while her exy personality gains her the ire of riko, her real one catches the eye of andrew minyard and his monsters. after a series of torment and trials (leading to a physical altercation that leaves the lot of them bloodied and bruised as well as the columbia house trashed), darcy is inducted into the monsters. while andrew has no reason to trust her past, he knows that good dealers never sample their goods. he also knows that darcy’s reputation means more to her than anything at palmetto. this is what leads him to appoint darcy as somewhat of aaron’s keeper of sobriety in exchange for his protection of her. btw this all occurs the year before neil arrives.

okay. i’m sleepy so that’s enough chaos for now. lemme know if you wanna hear more or if you have any questions. this lore goes fucking deep.

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #kevin day #nicky hemmick #david wymack #riko moriyama #the foxes

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the-dye-stained-socialite · 5 months

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bat-sinnet.

puzzles has one and is carried around in that.

stamps and plushies have an extra- wide pram that they can be put in together (probably with the rest of their siblings too, but their siblings won't be in this fic much, these two need special attention because they're the sick/ weak ones of the litter)

bells i maaay have be old enough to be walked around

#pup care fic #baby curator ocs #queue the music

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plasticfangtastic · 7 months

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American Royalty. Ch. 10

A Homelander X F! Reader/Dadlander fanfic.

A/N: sorry for the delay, I wrote another fic and that ate my time, hope y'all like the chapter, there's only 3 chapters left and the epilogue and now that kinktober its done I should be able to post the remaining chapters on time, if ya like to be on the taglist plz leave a comment with a request. prev. chapter here:

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, oc characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance, some spicy and murder.

Chapter Ten

Reconsidering

A lavish prison.

More rooms than ideas to fill them with– mere latrines for kisch.

Floors that screamed ugly opulence, the kind that made you yearn for the simplicity of owning nothing, of forced minimalism... or tasteful decor.

When you cracked your neck to witness the enormity of the seven story mansion (not counting the cellar basement and the terrace) the price tag had frightened you to the core more than the height, making you feel more than inadequate in visitation, as you had come in jeans and an ironic t-shirt to accompany him (not that you had a choice)-- as Homelander pulled you around from floor to floor, forcing you to walk alongside him from beige rooms to white rooms, past rich dark wood doors. So heavy they hurt your wrist, you worried for your future.

These were the things you could only witness in pictures.

“I hate the carpet.” He said coyly, trying to stand close to you without frightening you.

Looking down at the rug you’ve taken your shoes off for-- it was luxurious, it was nice for the somewhat dark library, the smell of curated cedar and walnut genuinely intoxicating. From a second glance it matched his taste in your mind, but you guess he was a lot more finicky than he already was– perhaps it wasn’t soft enough for him, you thought.

“I'd rather we just have the floors bare– it’ll be easier to clean.”

“Concerned about the maids already?”

“Maids?”

“Honey, you don’t think I expect you to clean this thing by yourself?” He gave you a playful pat in the back– even with superspeed you’ll wear yourself out…”

The real estate agent who kept rubbernecking at your direction, raised his eyebrow as he saw how stiff you were next to your fiance.

Pressing yourself against the aged stone of the terrace fence, the city seemed so far away as you looked down from so high up, wondering if you could fall quick enough, if he would catch you right on time or make it easy for himself and play the tragic broken hearted hero. The cold breeze kissed your temples as you processed the jarring passage of time.

Kaleem, his wife Alessia and your co-worker Chrissie dropped what they were doing when you broke the news that you’ve gotten engaged, they’ve already gotten it from the breaking news report and online but actually hearing it out of your mouth cemented it, it wasn’t a lookalike sharing your name marrying Homelander! But you! Their hardworking and worn out cook.

Who never once mentioned him before, who never described your baby daddy, who gave no hints… yet to them who thought were your friends–if not confidants, felt betrayed.

They were friends of yours but the fear of Homelander’s and Vought had been so great you never wanted to disclose who’s Helena’s father was to anybody, they had formed very strong opinions over the time they’ve known you but at the sight of half a dozen black suits entering their pizza shop– you probably would have never been able to tell them on your terms, anyways.

You had no choice now but to divulge.

After having been made to lose a day’s work and being informed they would have to agree to some sketchy stuff regarding selling your situation to the public, you owed them an explanation– at least the financial compensation for their cooperation was generous.

Right now you were a stranger.

You told a version of your story, adding to what they already knew, like everybody else their image of Homelander was firmly cemented after 20 years of exposure to the bastard, it was hard to view ‘The Nation’s Favorite Dad’ was the one who threw you on the streets, nobody spoke much while you melted into the booth, your sight so far away, as the light’s buzz drilled into your brain.

“Is the dick at least good?” Chrissie slurped loudly on her coke– I mean go get your bag bitch, just don’t let him make you sign a prenup and when you get divorce take half his shit.”

“Slightly above mid… his mouth tho…” You did smile there.

“Is it little?”

“I wish… shit hurts. Can’t sit straight afterwards... he's just so quick! Thank god his mouth isn't just good at speeches” You chuckle dryly.

Chrissie began spacing her fingers until you rolled your eyes in embarrassment, poor Kaleem sat in his corner pretending to be blind.

You both shared an ugly snorting laugh, cackling from the absurdity of the situation.

“You wouldn’t be the first woman to marry for benefits– trust me I seen a lot of ‘90 day fiance’ and my aunt Lucia’s been married to my uncle for 32 years– she met him a month before the wedding and only for the green card.”

“32 years?” That was dreadful.

Alessia was quite relaxed about the whole ordeal, if anything it was the most stimulating thing that had happened in recent years and seeing a six-year- old tutor her teenage son was exhilarating.

“She said he has a big dick and uncle works the night shift… works great for her– pretty sure 2 of their 7 kids are his”

“Is this the aunt Lucia that came and did our light fixtures? I feel sorry for your uncle.” Chrissie said.

“Yes– she's happy, and don’t be… Uncle Frank may have a whole other family in Mexico, but that’s a whole other business.” She said loudly– look you had it rought, and fuck him. I thought killing the dude at that rally was a bit much, but dumping you in the streets– way worse than murder! Look, we got three kids and if this dumbass died on me– I don’t know how I would cope and if some hot rich asshole asked me to marry him… I might ‘cuz college ain't cheap.” You could laugh, watching Kaleem agreeing he would do the same if she died– Homelander is cute and has money. You said it yourself– you don’t have to love him. He’ll meet somebody else and end it, but Helena it’s your main priority here not him, and I mean after everything you’ve been thru you deserve to cruise thru life.``

“I don’t think John is going to let me fuck around…” You groaned, resting your head on your forearm as you sunk deeper– I don’t have to be happy, right?”

“It’s overrated.” Chrissie said– Helena would probably finish college by 12, and that if she takes her time.”

“Thank you guys for encouraging me in my new ‘Sugar Baby’ journey– I always knew I had it in me to be an amazing hoe.”

It wasn’t what you wanted to hear… to them who just like you had to break their backs to keep the roof over their heads, it was an enviable golden opportunity and in this economy one couldn’t really afford to miss out on such opportunities…

“Just pretend you like him if he’s ever around, I guess.” you mention.

“It’s gonna be hard ‘cuz I like Noir more.” Chrissie says leaning across the table to pat your shoulders.

So here you were admiring the Upper East Side, in the nicest street, in a coveted building that he had every desire in the world to make you ‘Lady of the House’, it was beyond extravagant it even had an elevator… so there was some appeal.

Ashley followed him like a lap dog as he listed a billion much needed remodeling decisions to bring back the home into the office spaces by force, in case he decided to purchase the edifice.

“So you like it? This is the fifth house we’ve seen… you said you wanted a yard and space.”

“Needs more plants… is a great location…” you said softly, still looking down, pretending to not notice Ashley was writing that down too.

“But do you love it?” he pressed rubbing your shoulders– we can still get the penthouse… even if it's only four bedrooms but great open concept! Or the condo right in front of Central park– but that one is only 3 bedrooms which might tamper with our plans… although the one in 63 street, classy and it has a cinema.”

He kissed your forehead, after speaking quickly.

“Do you love it?” You asked, fixing his hair once he got too close to you– this will be your home too.”

“Is pre-war” He whines playfully– is so pretty… the brownstone… the history…” He gives you the most pathetic attempt of ‘puppy eyes’ you’ve ever seen, a smile creeps onto your face without permission which he takes graciously– I can see us here.”

“You’re not hanging a giant american flag anywhere in this house!”

“A small one?” He pouts.

“In your office… and it better be small, John.” You rested your head on his chest– The kitchen… is awful.”

He was touchy, your skin numb to his touch at this point, he wanted to kiss you and hold you until you cherished him, but he wouldn’t force it.

You just had to keep smiling and thwart most of his approaches, but you know if you gave him just enough affection he would be unable to notice the wicked game you were playing– forcing him to move at your dictated pace, to keep him on his toes yearning that you would turn and pamper him, never knowing if his affections were welcomed or not, but knowing you gave yours to him and he welcomed it.

You could see Ryan and Helena growing up happy, and safe.

You and those two children sitting by the fireplace, enjoying hot chocolate and opening Christmas presents.

You would in fact not choose this house just to spite the man, who had fallen in love with his grand vision– not that the chosen house was worse, just one floor shorter, just as massive as the other and still in a great location… so Homelander didn’t complain too much… just a little.

The boxes increased but there was still so much to fill up, even with his stuff it wasn’t enough to fill the gaps… he would not spare you from the American flags, tragically as it sounds.

At least it was framed and matched the decor of the gallery and dining room. As you unpacked and watched the movers bring the beds while the kids argued about who kept which floor– Helena demanded the fourth floor already making executive decision to turn the empty rooms into labs and offices for her future endeavors, while Ryan wanted to be normal child and stay in the same floor as his sibling, ultimately pushed to the fifth floor after multiple rounds of rock-paper-scissors, and a paternal mediator who said they had to settled it with another round of games which sadly Ryan lost.

After a laborious day, you two just sheepishly laughed as you stared at your bedroom, both leaning against each other as you laughed, staring at the wooden cross dividing the two beds and matching nightstands– all so very circa 50’s catholic chic.

You two just laughed about how absurd this was in execution, a part of you wished to just put the beds together instead of making your great-grandmother proud.

“Y’know we could’ve fit two kings in here…” He said while staring at the space.

“I thought you wanted me close-by.”

“Double’s were the perfect choice.” He replied quickly.

It took weeks before you reached a boiling point with your live-in situation, to see him walk around your home in that stupid suit, his mind longing for the familiarity of his abandoned penthouse was frustrating, he himself didn't expect to miss it either– He felt like a guest that refused to leave instead of your fake fiancee, this wasn’t him staying overnight at your previous domicile levels of awkward, that had been a challenge on its own, even if now you skipped the pillow walls and sleeping on the floor… God knows how many times he picked your unconscious self up from the ground and laid you to bed, while he sat next to you reading a book in the dark– this was an alien living in your house calling himself the owner.

Before you knew it your heart stung as you dragged the two kids to the nearest Target to bulk buy the man some loungewear, both from exasperation and as request from his son who mentioned he didn’t really own much clothes, and what little he did own he didn't feel like washing every 2 days just to chill around the house... and as his future wife you gave yourself automatic permission to buy him clothes… just anything that would get him out of that suit.

Ryan had never been to many stores before, much less a Target, it hurt a tad to see him fascinated by the colorful aisles and the abundance of people…knowing he had grown in a compound, the mother in you just wanted to squeeze him and apologies for it all, but you instead just squeezed the handle bars and let him pick snacks that caught his fancy.

It was hilarious that you would find yourself doing this again– back then buying for him had been difficult, he wore very little but he liked your input, he simply wore what you told him, but after so long you had no idea what he liked anymore– this wasn’t food… this wasn’t easy… so the plainest sets were your best bet.

There was something fresh about this, as you perused the aisles with the kids in tow, thinking of buying him some jeans and clean button ups, Ryan picking up colorful socks while Helena opted to pick him a shirt just to fit in.

You had fun, you looked forward to sprousing his wardrobe, watching this scene play out made you feel as if you were normal, until somebody took your photo at the checkout in your least flattering angle.

It took another week before he opened up to being undressed and exposed in cheap pajama pants and white t-shirts, it would take three weeks for him to do so without being told to– plus enough complaints about people trying to photograph them after seeing the Homelander lounge in the terrace, served as added motivation.

You told yourself it wasn’t too bad to cohabitate, as you saw him slowly get more and more comfortable in his new environment, as you watched him become softer with your kids, as you found yourself having pleasant breakfasts, found yourself being welcomed home and conversed over coffee about your day or his day– not even bringing up his concerns about you still choosing to work in Lucci when you could do so much better too often, giving up on teasing you with buying you a restaurant, or upcoming publicity stunts when you weren’t in the mood to listen to the drivel.

Staring down from the roof garden looking at the brownstone buildings around and the pale light, pleased by the subtle fragrance of flowers behind you, he seemed so normal as you watched him from across the coffee table.

He kept sipping on his latte looking miffed before turning around and asked about why Elmo had been staying over for the last 3 days, to which you reminded him he sent his dads to sort some business in Singapore.

“Does he have no other family?” He thought of Singapore– it was quite urgent… they decided to fuck us up.”

“You and them booked them for acting classes plus they have their first suit fittings tomorrow… easier for them to leave Elmo here and have us take care of that– they’re a team-up. They should be close.”

“I know! But why does he have to sleep here? He’s a boy.” He seemed concerned.

“‘Cuz we got the space…?”

“It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

“Oh you freak.”

He was still stiff around the edges but you could bear with it, as you saw him and Helena bond you knew your daughter was handling him well– your target was Ryan now.

You asked him to help you around the kitchen more, taking your time to teach him without pressure, scolding his father when he acted like it was undignified of him to help around the kitchen and forced him to eat whatever he'd made, making him feel proud when he took charge of dinner even if it was slightly too salty at times and his impenetrable skin resulted in chipped knives…

You helped him make those cute films and took him out to the cinema, buying him books on the subject, encouraging him to join art clubs, to try as many extracurriculars he was interested in and to ignore his father as he pushed Ryan to join sport related clubs, when all he wanted was to make dioramas with his new found friends, instead.

Homelander didn’t have any issues with Helena for her selections were sparse, just the chess club, and some science club she was quickly losing interest in… if anything he was being pushy about piano– and god knows how he managed to bring that piano to the fifth floor without breaking anything.

Is not as if she was already taking too much in-between physics, science and math classes… and working casually at Vought, but he didn’t seem to care. Helena assured you she could handle it, telling you to focus on your tasks without worry and you listened.

Ryan liked your support, it helped you get closer as you allowed his friends to enter the house for his little projects, he liked when you twisted his father’s ear to let him be just in case he began to disapprove, he began to trust you.

Helena wasted her afternoons in the office between daycare, superhero training and shadowing her father or Ashley, reading his meeting notes, writing them for him, or as he called it assisting him, learning about the company and the labs from her privileged position– the whispers of curious passerby wondered why Homerlander would keep his daughter so close, it had taken the building by surprise to learn that this little girl had been his child all along even if rumors had spread prior… but the once cute anomaly began to gain a insidious reputation in the underbelly of this company, something that made them more uneasy than just her strange demeanor from before.

“What’s that on your dress?” You noticed a brown stain on the hem of her dress.

“Iodine.” She said while taking her clothes off, Homelander said nothing as he picked after her.

Homelander gave you a stiff smile as he scrunched the clothes into a ball before your kid ran up towards the bathroom, mentioning she’s a tad clumsy with the equipment as he walked past you.

You didn’t need to know that the duet had some quality father-daughter time to the misfortune of some lab rat.

He stared at the chunky bloodstain sliding down the wall.

“I can explain.” She panted, staring at her work as her eyes spun around the room.

“It’s pretty obvious what happened, no?” He said stepping on top of the unidentified– "I'll have somebody come clean it up, darling.”

“You’re not mad?” She asked, genuinely nervous, fidgeting with her fingers as her head throbbed.

“Why did you kill him?” He stared at the smashed patty with curiosity.

“He resisted termination… forcing me to defend myself… he took my assistant.”

Homelander looked at the other corpse and its mangled remains, spilling around her boots.

“Why?” He spoke with a boor.

“Self-defense.”

“You took your time doing it… you could have cut his oxygen supply and killed him in a few minutes, instead you” He kicked a shattered bone– made it agonizing.”

“Tch… if he attacked me I would’ve lost control of the bubble…” She gasped lightly trying to kill the headache inside her– the math… the math makes sense. My formulas make sense. But it's them… these samples aren’t fit, they aren’t meant to be like us. They are worthless!”

She leans towards the wall, smacking her forehead against the wall full force, Homelander jumps on his heel but doesn’t reach her as she mutters incoherent curses under her breath, his hand stop just inches from her.

“This one wasn’t too bad… I thought I cracked it but then I noticed…” Helena was pensive looking at images he wasn’t privy to, as she spoke with a light airy voice as her lungs emptied for her to speak once more— I cull it.”

She squatted picking up a loose tooth from the ground, examining the perfectly structured canine, for the first time Homelander felt uneasy about her.

“Is not often that I feel…”

Homelander raised a curious eyebrow, taking a step closer towards her, Helena tilted her neck to look at him, her sight so detached it didn’t seem possible for a child to make such an expression.

“Excited. The simulations always succeed but the human variant poses an interesting angle I hadn’t previously considered… truly successful adult specimens… V24 almost recreated the perfected serum but with nasty side-effects… programming the serum is obtainable but adult humans continue to reject it or somehow create variants as if the host alters the code live” She flicks the tooth– Is like Frederick left me a puzzle.”

“So are these just pieces” He waved his fingers nonchalantly at the messy remains.

She scoffed standing up and patting her knees clean.

“You know why I play piano?”

He shook his head.

“Because in order to be good at it… you have to foster talent… but no amount of practice can’t beat those blessed with a gift… supposedly. So I have to solve his puzzle because I cannot believe that that coward was blessed more than me.”

“You think Vought has beef with you? So what will you do with all your failures? Murder them?”

“Is it murder to cull a deformed goldfish? No… that’s just mercy.” She stands up fixing her hair– It’s not beef. Is a challenge he left us with.”

His smile is so wide his skin creaks as it stretches.

He picked her up to plant a kiss on her chubby cheek.

“You’re such a messy child.” He kissed her again– you got your pretty dress dirty.”

“Sorry.” She moped– sorry about all of it… you must think I'm a hack.”

“Is okay princess… daddy will just buy you a new one… and a new dress.”

You didn’t question the stains on her dress, god knew what sort of chemicals and stuff she had to play with, and how much of it wasn’t built for the size of her hands.

The more you saw him return to that man you once loved, you felt down the spiral of considering giving him a second chance– Helena was happy, she was smiling, she was playful, your quiet daughter had blossomed under your mutual care, seeing him domesticated, seeing him interact with genuine joy with her had began to melt your heart. It didn’t help that he look so delectable in compression shirts, as he came back with the kids without a sweat on his brow, Ryan just as dry with nothing more than messy hair and then your daughter dropping to the ground half-dead from the walk… what you had stared at mostly had been his ass in those black tights.

“Honey it was only 20 miles.” He sounded a bit frustrated– gotta get her fit otherwise she will get outperformed.” He turned to you sounding a tad aggressive– she’s my daughter she should be able to handle it just like me and Ryan.”

“Mommy!” she cried.

“Most humans can’t even do twenty!”

You picked her up, not caring she was covered in sticky sweat but as you draped your child over your shoulder kissing her head as she whined, you caught an improper glimpse at him, no doubt he caught a couple looks from passersby on his way here– even by this city standards he was wearing too little.

“Go change…” You said with a light blush on your neck– don’t be a dick to her, she wasn’t born a copy of you.”

He pestered Helena for the rest of the evening, giving up once she barricaded herself in her bedroom.

“Spending all her time inside books is not gonna do her any good… she needs exercise.”

“I think you got the kids mixed up, dear.”

He moped in the living room pursing his lips, one sentence away from crossing his arms and whining like a child.

“Look I think it’s great that you want to train her but… she’s not like you. I would love for her to have inherited some of your physical skills– it's just not gonna happen.”

“I know. I don’t know why she’s so different from me… yet she has to get better…” His sight lingered on the roof– You think she’ll move her dresser out the way.”

“She’ll move it when she wants to– and don’t think about getting in there thru her window!” He almost complains but chooses to stay quiet scooting closer to you on the couch– What?”

“You seem mad…”

“You harassed our kid all day and made her upset… but I was mad before it...I made the mistake of googling myself after somebody at work made mention– have you seen the shit that people are saying ‘bout me online ‘cuz of you.”

Homelander shook his head lightly.

“I only google myself.”

“People are saying nasty shit. Hurtful shit… saw my mom getting interviewed… that was nice… she certainly made me feel like shit.”

“Want me to kill her?” Homelander spoke in such a bored tone, his head finding his way on your lap with the smoothness of a cat, unconsciously your hand took to his hair– Or something else?”

You stared at him and considered it, your mom sort of had it coming if she was going to paint herself a saint for her 15 minutes of fame.

“Don’t kill my mom, John. I just don’t want people saying I’m a bad mother because my kid went to a “shit public school” in the projects.” you said annoyed.

“I’ll see if Vought can write you a fluff piece.”

You believed him, choosing to put your anxieties away as he nuzzled into your stomach and let you watch TV without care as long as your hands kept pampering him making little commentary as you watched true crime videos.

Rolling in your bed you turned to see his back on the bed beside you, you signed readying to play dirty, your body awoken to something sickening.

“I know you ain’t asleep, John.”

His ears perked, he turned to see your silhouette in the dark.

“I can’t sleep.” You whispered– mmm…so” you signed lightly– can you get your dick up?”

His ears perked up, lifting himself by his elbows as he adjusted to face your darkened silhouette, your cheeks reddened, mildly embarrassed, your mind wandered back to the sight of his clothes, to the tussling of his hair and the glint in his eyes as of late… and of that last sudden night of intimacy.

“Oh. O-okay… might need some stimulation is not like I got a crank down there.” he faked being annoyed by your request.

“I stopped taking the pill…” His piercing eyes illuminated the room for a brief second just to catch a sly smile ‘bout to fade away off your face– so you wanna put the mommy in MILF or not?”

He tripped out of the bed to jump into yours, clawing his way back towards you, as the little voice in his head blared sirens.

Latching on your neck, ripping your clothes open as you tried not to chuckle at his messy desperation to fuck you, you closed your eyes and thought of nothing but the hundred different pleasurable sensations prickling you– it had been so long… your body sensitive, writhing over his hungry touch, wherever his hands and his lips got to taste you felt it twice as strong.

Whatever he was imagining in his head was happening none of it was relevant– this was simply a mutually beneficial exchange. Nothing but lust, it had to be lust because you didn’t see Homelander underneath you, as you rode him, as he let you fucked him just as hard as he wanted to fuck you– you saw the John that he had killed so many years ago... but somehow you didn't hate the sight.

He wanted to devour you, he was needy and pent-up and you took it all graciously, for one night you two used each other equally.

Finding himself delighted and more aroused at the squeals and mewls coming from your delicious lips just as much as you enjoyed the moans and guttural grunts that came from him as he cried against your chest, crying for your kisses and directions, liking the way he craved your scent once again.

You were better than his molasses drenched memories.

Homelander teeth gilded over your neck, the thought of him ripping and gnawing on your flesh lingered as he brought you to an orgasm.

To be so close to death as you touched heaven… you heaved, melting into the mattress letting him lumber atop of you, too delighted with the end result to complain… looking down to find him kissing your chest, whispering sweet grunts as your hand pampered his hair, you tried not to smile at that satiated goofy expression on his face, at the flickering light illuminating your skin as he purred around your touch.

He was so easy to win over… it scared you.

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